by Peter Newman
‘The Opal and Peridot lands have always been peaceful. There has never been need for them to hunt as hard as we do.’
‘It was like last time, Anuja. The demons waited for your people to land and then went for them exclusively. If they hadn’t, I suspect the losses would have been much higher in the other flights.’
‘There can be no doubt now.’ Her fists clenched in frustration. ‘But why us? What has brought such rage upon my house?’
‘I don’t know, but I intend to find out.’ He started to turn and then remembered his manners. ‘My apologies, Lady Anuja. I said I would stay to hunt for you as long as you needed me, however I must return to my own lands.’
She half rose out of the throne, then sat back heavily with a wince as her injuries complained. ‘But you can’t! By your own admission, you are the only one here that can manage a hunt. It will be a long time before I can fly again. House Ruby needs you.’
‘That is why I have to go. I fear we haven’t seen the worst of this yet, and the key to understanding it isn’t here. I will return, I promise.’
‘As you promised to fight with us?’
He bowed his head in apology. ‘I know what this must look like. All I can say is that it’s clear we’re not hunting mindless demons any more. They’ve changed, and if we’re to survive, we have to change too.’ He’d been edging towards the door as he spoke but a thought made his stop. ‘Actually, I have an idea about that. Now we know that they target your people, you can use Ruby hunters as bait to draw the demons into traps of your devising. You can plan ways to keep them safe at the same time as turning the Wild’s new obsession to your advantage.’
‘Yes, I like the sound of this.’ Anuja looked at him, allowing a little of her fatigue and worry to slip free from her painted mask. ‘I ask you a second time, as my friend: stay. At least long enough to eat. We can talk more of these plans and what you experienced out there.’
‘I dearly wish I could, but as your friend I have to go.’
He got one last glimpse of her face as he left, and it was as hard and impenetrable as the walls. ‘So be it.’
Pari kept a wary eye on the suns as they travelled, mindful of the need to get back to Varg, and then Arkav, before her absence was noticed. Despite many lifecycles of dire warnings from the Story-singers and her own personal experience, the forest seemed peaceful, almost pleasant. As far as she could tell, Nidra was the only dangerous thing moving between the trees.
‘Have you had any trouble with demons?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘None at all?’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps you might elaborate a bit?’
‘There’s not much to say. The demons don’t come to Sorn. Maybe it’s because the Corpseman marked it, maybe it’s because they don’t think I’m worth eating.’ She shrugged. ‘All I know is that it’s been forgotten by them just as easily as it has by the Sapphire.’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’
Nidra’s face cracked for a moment, like a dam threatening to burst, and while Pari thought a good cry would do her the world of good, she also knew that the Sapphire were rather funny about such things, so she added: ‘It really is impressive how you’ve managed to live out here all this time. Even accepting Sorn is safe you still had to find food for two. However did you manage it, my dear?’
‘Vasin arranges food drops, and when that isn’t enough, I venture into the Wild and take what I need.’
She makes it sound so simple but the new lines in her face say otherwise.
Nidra’s vulnerability was shocking to Pari. Last they’d met, the woman had been unshakable, a force of nature. Now she seemed to be barely clinging on.
They arrived at a large grassy hill, with steep sides and a crown of silver birch. When she was here before Samarku Un-Sapphire had been growing out of one of those trees, as if somehow the tree had infected him, become a part of him. The thought of his tortured form made her shiver.
Almost guiltily, her gaze turned upwards. The angle was too sharp to see what, if anything, Nidra had left of the man, but she knew that before they left, she would have to see for herself. Perhaps that way she could banish the image of him from her thoughts and dreams.
Nidra picked her way up the hillside with an almost painful amount of care, and Pari had a sudden insight into what her life must have been like. She’s alone out here and on constant guard against the Wild and herself. Seeing the hill with new eyes, Pari was suddenly aware of all the places one could trip or slip, her imagination conjuring up a hundred different ways to sprain an ankle or break a bone, or open a cut.
That insight gave her a great deal of patience, even though she could feel time slipping away. It made her think of her brother and how fragile he was. Please let his mood hold until I get back. Please.
‘Here,’ said Nidra, drawing Pari’s attention to a small mound about halfway up the hillside. She began digging at it, scraping back the mud until a curve of smooth amber was revealed. Preserved within was the shadowy shape of a body.
‘They’re still here,’ said Pari sadly. ‘I wonder why the Corpseman did this. Do you think it’s a burial rite?’
‘No. Look closer.’
Pari did so. The shadow within the amber slowly resolved itself, only becoming clear when her face was an inch away. Something had eaten the flesh from the body and dissolved the clothes. Hard bony plates had grown to replace them, bulky and angular around the chest and shoulders, and stick thin where the lower spine met the hips. In places the original skeleton could be seen, a nodule of collarbone peeking from the black, finger bones and their yellowing tendons, oddly preserved. The top half of the skull remained, held within a carapace hood, the teeth jutting out like a ledge.
‘Delightful,’ said Pari.
Nidra gestured to the hill with her sapphire dagger. ‘They’re all like this, more or less.’
‘More or less?’
‘Some are more … covered than others.’
‘I think House Sapphire needs to come here and purge this place.’
‘Good luck convincing Yadavendra of that.’
‘Surely even he would want to do something about this?’
‘He might, but my brother never does anything suggested by anyone other than Rochant, and especially not someone from another house.’
‘I’ll just have to convince him it was his idea then.’
Nidra snorted and began to move further up the hill. ‘Easier to be rid of him and have another take charge. Quicker too.’
They made the rest of the climb in silence. At the top, she saw the forked tree where Samarku had once been but there was no sign of him now. Though one of the branches bore an unsettling resemblance to a human arm. With Samarku gone, the trees were no longer the strangest thing at the top of the hill. A ridged oval of amber now stood in the middle of it. As she approached, she realized that the lower half of the structure was buried beneath the ground. It was thicker than the one she’d just seen and it was harder to discern what lay within. Her instincts more than made up for her eyes however.
‘The Corpseman is in there, isn’t it?’
Nidra nodded.
‘You seem awfully calm about that, my dear.’
‘Better it be in there than out here. I’ve thought about trying to kill it, but it’s awake. It’s probably aware of us.’
Pari saw the truth of this and stopped. She didn’t feel under threat but she did feel … unwelcome. She considered trying to attack the Coprseman while it was in this state but dismissed the idea. Somehow she didn’t think that it was helpless, and with just the two of them, without armour, she didn’t fancy their chances.
‘I think we should go.’
Nidra didn’t need telling twice and immediately began the climb down. Pari was about to follow when she caught a flash of red and green in the air, of something flying towards them. She took cover behind the forked tree and waited. The creature was small, a Lizardkin of some sort. Its wi
ngs beat heavily, and it fell as much as flew the final few feet to land on the amber containing the Corpseman. It sat there for a while, panting, then there was a subtle movement within and the Lizardkin shifted to match it, poking out its tongue to touch the surface, like two people pressing their hands on either side of a window.
Pari had spent many years honing her intuitions, trying to find ways to read the faces and bodies of her enemies. She was much better at it with humans than monsters, but she knew something was being passed between the two. That Lizardkin is talking to the Corpseman. I’m sure of it.
The moment only lasted for a few seconds, at which point the Lizardkin jerked straight, blinking at its surroundings in surprise.
Perplexed, Pari went after Nidra, catching up the other woman partway down the hill. Neither of them spoke. They’d nearly reached the bottom when she heard the trees begin to whisper as if stirred by a distant wind. A sound was carried from one leaf to another, a sharp unnatural sound. ‘If I didn’t know better,’ said Pari, ‘I’d say that was a bell.’
‘No!’ hissed Nidra.
‘No?’
But the other woman didn’t deign to explain, setting off in the direction of Sorn at speed, leaving Pari with little choice but to follow.
Over the course of his life, Sa-at had been given cause to flee many times. He was adept at navigating the Wild at speed, at knowing when to run and when to hide, and knew the shifting movements of the safe places, and where the nearest one would be.
Alone, it would be a simple matter for him to vanish, trackless. He looked across at Tal, his heavy-footed friend, and at Lord Rochant slung between them, and despaired.
He did not know the trees around Sorn, and the price for their protection would be high. Everything here hated the Deathless and it occurred to him that if he were to give Rochant to one of the greater demons, like Murderkind, he could ask for anything he wanted, he could even ask it to kill the Red Brothers for him.
Then I will be safe again.
As fast as he’d thought that, his heart replied: But I promised to keep him safe and safe from his enemies. Deathless are enemies of the Wild. Deathless are enemies of Murderkind. Does that mean they are my enemies too?
Either way, he knew he could not betray Rochant. He would have to find another way to deal with the Red Brothers. At least Rochant could help him learn about the Corpseman. He will tell me and then I will tell Murderkind and then I will have kept my promise.
Murderkind will be pleased and I will get to keep Tal as my friend.
This thought gave Sa-at comfort as they struggled their way down Sorn’s main street.
Rochant’s breath was laboured by his ear. ‘What is your plan?’
He exchanged a glance with Tal. ‘I don’t have one.’
‘My lord,’ Tal added, with no small amount of fear.
‘You,’ gasped Rochant, ‘are going to need one. My enemies will come for me.’
‘How many?’ asked Sa-at.
‘One, maybe two.’
‘Women?’
‘You saw them?’
‘Yes.’
Sa-at could still picture them in his mind now. So unlike anyone he’d seen before that he hungered to see them again. Tal had said that one of them was Deathless too. Did the Deathless fight each other then, like the princes of the Wild? Sa-at would have to ask. Somewhere beneath his fear, a little excitement bubbled at the idea of all the new knowledge he could get. New things are the best things.
They were reaching the edge of Sorn now and the time was coming to make a decision about what to do.
‘When you saw them,’ continued Rochant, ‘which way were they going?’
Sa-at pointed.
‘Then we have a head start. They’ll be coming faster than us though, and they are skilled hunters. We can’t outrun them, our only chance is to outthink them.’
‘Out … think them, my lord?’ asked Tal. ‘But how?’
‘That is the question. Our enemy is quick, experienced and thorough. They will know the immediate surroundings well, and they know me and the kind of tricks I am likely to try.’
Sa-at frowned. Even though the man was describing a terrible situation, his face had become more animated, his eyes lively. He is backwards. He says good things like they’re bad things, and bad things like they’re good things.
‘They might expect me to try for the Godroad,’ Rochant mused. ‘It isn’t far from here and offers protection from the Wild. However, it would be easy for them to spot me and catch me on it.
‘They might expect me to use the cover of the forest near the Godroad. Following it home but keeping out of sight. That’s actually not a bad plan. If a traveller came by, I could get a ride with them to the nearest settlement and then get an escort back to my castle. However, it would still be a gamble. There’s always a chance that my enemies have their own people on the Godroad. If we met one of them, it would not go well for us.’
He used so many words so quickly, it was hard for Sa-at to keep up. ‘But you said there were two.’
‘In the forest, yes,’ said Rochant, ‘but my enemies have many, many servants.’
‘Do you have servants, too?’
A strange expression crossed Rochant’s face, one Sa-at couldn’t name. It wasn’t really one thing nor the other, like a movement just beneath the water, a hint of an action rather than the action itself. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Some of the greatest women and men of the land are loyal to me. Perhaps one day, you will meet them.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘I’m sure they would too.’
The conviction with which Rochant spoke lifted his heart. He had been so lonely for so long that the thought of meeting the greatest people in the land – and them liking him! – made him feel warm inside. Filled with new purpose, he started turning left, guiding the others with his arm so that they all faced the same direction. ‘This way.’
‘Listen,’ said Rochant. ‘If they catch us, then, if you are to keep your promise, you need to do something for me.’
‘What?’
‘Kill me. Preferably swiftly.’
Sa-at frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because that will keep me safe from them. Do you understand?’
‘No.’
Rochant gave a little smile. ‘Will you do it anyway?’
‘Yes.’
He closed his eyes, though Sa-at couldn’t tell if it was from relief or fatigue. ‘Good.’
They completed the turn and left Sorn, crossing the unkempt grasses and moving into the trees, heading away from the Godroad.
Travelling quickly with the extra weight between them was hard work. Conversation soon became impossible, the two young men reduced to gasps and puffs. Crowflies kept its distance, flying above them or waiting in the higher branches. Sa-at could feel its eyes on him though, and knew it was troubled.
At last they came to an old oak tree. Despite the fact he’d been keeping an eye out for one like this, he had the odd sense that it had put itself in their path, finding them rather than being found. It towered over them like some moss bearded giant. Parts of its root network were exposed, as if it had recently moved, disturbing the surrounding earth. After lowering Rochant to the ground, Sa-at approached the tree. He took an instant dislike to the arrogant lean of its trunk but he knew they were running out of time and so tried his best to look friendly.
‘Hello,’ he said.
The tree gave no indication that it had heard but he was sure it was listening. ‘I ask that you shelter my two friends. In return, I will give you two locks of my hair.’ He took a handful of its sleek, black length and pressed it against the bark. ‘I will hang them from your mighty branches.’
The tree did not move.
‘And … three feathers from my coat.’ He drew his sleeve across the side of the tree, letting the feathers brush against it.
There was an indifferent rustle.
‘And I will touch your roots with my own blood …’ He
glanced up at the tree for a sign. When it gave none, he sighed. ‘And when I return I will do so thrice more, to show my gratitude.’
There was another rustle, not exactly happy, but when Sa-at looked at the roots again, he saw they had parted slightly to reveal a small hollow. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He had to call Crowflies down to help cut his hair.
‘Sa-aat,’ it said, looking at the tree and then back at him, disapproving. The tree was getting far too good a deal and the Birdkin was not happy about it.
‘I know,’ he murmured, ‘but we’re in a hurry.’
Despite those words, he did not rush tying the hair, choosing the branches where they could be displayed to greatest effect. He examined his coat, and when his eyes alighted on a feather he didn’t want to lose, he swallowed the sadness down and plucked it, repeating the process three times. These he tucked into the branches of the tree. Lastly, he pricked his finger on his Birdkin’s beak, and touched it to the roots, before holding it out to Crowflies again.
He felt the nip, painful, as it resealed the wound, and gave a nod of thanks.
That done, he turned back to his friends and pointed at the hollow. ‘In you get.’
Tal regarded him with an expression of horror. ‘In there?’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
Sa-at nodded encouragingly. ‘Yes. You first.’
As he approached it, the Gatherer got slower and slower. ‘We’ll never all get in there.’
‘Just you and Rochant.’
‘Lord Rochant,’ amended Tal.
‘Yes.’
‘But what about you?’
‘I have a –’ he looked at Rochant ‘– plan.’
Rochant’s eyes were shut but it didn’t surprise Sa-at that he was still awake and listening to them. ‘Tell me.’
He tore a strip from the rags Rochant was wearing and held it up. ‘I’ll make a new trail for your enemies and lead them far away.’
‘It might work. You’ll need his boots.’