by Peter Newman
Glider barked back, making it clear she was not happy about the situation.
‘Let her out,’ said Chandni. ‘We won’t be coming back and she should be allowed to make her own choices too.’
He nodded and unstrapped the Dogkin. ‘There. You’re free now.’
Glider watched them with her mismatched eyes as they climbed down the side of the Godroad. She barked at them several times as they walked away, then jumped off to pad alongside.
Chandni stroked her muzzle. ‘Thank you.’
Varg had taken her right hand. Though she couldn’t feel the contact, she forced her fingers to curl around his.
‘Can I borrow your knife? I didn’t have time to pack one of my own.’
‘Uh, yeah. Sure.’ He passed it over and she took it in her left hand. There were fresh tears glistening in his beard.
The suns hadn’t fully set, but it was dark inside the forest. Any self-respecting Gatherer would be well on their way home, for in the depths of the Wild, things were already stirring.
With the tip of the knife, Chandni drew back the sleeve on her right arm and made two shallow cuts. Then, because there had been a third deal that she’d forgotten to tell Lord Rochant about, she made another. It was small consolation, but there was no pain, and she had to rely on her eyes to be sure she’d broken the skin enough to bring her blood to the surface.
Together, they walked into the Wild. They hadn’t gone far when Glider began to growl softly. ‘Here we go,’ said Varg. ‘Can I have my knife back.’
She passed it to him without comment. He knew as well as she did that a knife wasn’t going to make any difference here.
A Birdkin settled in the trees above. It had the same black feathers as the one in her hair, and multifaceted eyes, that it took turns to study them with, jerking its head from left to right in sudden movements. Another Birdkin came, of the same breed as the first. Then another, then another. They lined up on either side of Chandni, marking out a path through the shadowy trees.
She took it. Sooner or later something would be lured by her blood. She might as well not draw out the agony.
More Birdkin came. The ones further back hopping from tree to tree, gliding after her as new ones appeared ahead. Every so often, one would drop down to peck at the blood that had dripped from her arm into the dirt. They were eerily quiet, and Chandni was reminded of the time she’d called out to the powers of the Wild, and they had stopped to listen.
They’re listening now, she thought, and shivered.
She heard barking from somewhere far away, and recognized Glider’s voice. Whirling round, she found the Dogkin was nowhere to be seen, and that Varg had gone too, her fingers curled around empty air.
‘Varg?’ she called. ‘Glider?’
There was more barking, and perhaps the faintest sound of Varg’s voice, shouting her name, but it was being rolled between distant trees, making it impossible to discern where they were.
Perhaps this is a good thing. They don’t need to die for me. Please, Glider, keep him safe.
It was getting harder to see, but she thought she could make out a larger shape, some confection of feathers and darkness that stood tall and majestic. She fancied that its arms were open, and that is was waiting for her.
Chandni raised her head and the Birdkin watched, intense and silent, as she walked towards it.
They’d put it off for as long as they could, but eventually they had to get Rochant onto the Godroad. Tal scrambled up first, using Sa-at’s shoulder as a stepping stone, and then between them, they lifted Rochant up the ten feet of sheer crystal.
‘Your turn,’ said Tal, holding out a hand.
Sa-at backed off so that he could get a good run at it. He was good at jumping and climbing, and was pleased that Tal would get to see. With practised ease, he sprinted forward, then sprung into the air. Tal caught his hands and pulled, adding to his momentum, and the two of them stumbled into the middle of the Godroad, both immensely pleased with themselves.
By the time Sa-at had realized that his right palm was itching, the sensation had already escalated to a searing hot pain. He called out, clutching his wrist so that he could hold his hand steady and look at it. The pain intensified, and within the darkness of the oval pit in the centre of his palm, he saw a light. Not blue nor silver like that of the Godroad itself, but yellow and red, flickering.
It is fire.
It is fire!
I am on fire!
He fell to his knees, unable to scream, unable to do anything but watch the skin hiss and the smoke belch from his palm, a prisoner to his pain.
Tal picked him up under the shoulders.
‘No,’ said Rochant.
‘But, my lord, look at him! I have to get him off the Godroad.’
‘Leave him be. He needs to be purged if he is to come with us.’
Tal let go and stepped back. ‘I’m sorry.’
Sa-at didn’t react, couldn’t react. The fire brightened but did not spread, building until his eyes hurt with the sight of it. Worst of all was the smell, seeping into him.
In the end it was too much. His eyes blurred with tears, the light fragmenting into a dozen spots of burning brightness, and then he was falling sideways.
It felt as though he fell for a long time, and it was some surprise to find that when he came to, much, much later, that he was still on the Godroad. His hand ached and when he looked at it, there was an oval of skin, puffy, featureless and white, where the nostril in his palm had been.
‘It’s gone,’ he said. And though it stung every time the air brushed against it, he felt better somehow, lighter.
‘Can you walk?’ asked Rochant.
‘I think so.’
‘Shouldn’t we wait, my lord?’ asked Tal. ‘Let him rest a bit.’
‘Do you think my enemy will rest?’
Tal lowered his head. ‘No, my lord.’
‘Do you think they will take pity on us if they find us in this state?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Then help him up and save your breath for the climb ahead. Trust me, you’ll need it.’
Sa-at shared a sympathetic look with his friend. What Rochant had said was true …
But I don’t like it. It feels wrong.
He couldn’t say why, and the thought soon floated away, replaced by the demands of travel.
They trudged along the Godroad, using its light to guide them. Rochant kept driving them on, determined to make the most of the darkness. Sa-at was more concerned about Crowflies however. The Birdkin refused to join them, flying about fifty metres parallel, and calling his name again and again, clearly distressed.
Eventually it landed, crowing but refusing to come any further.
‘We must keep going,’ said Rochant.
‘But Crowflies!’
‘Cannot go where we are going. It cannot use the Godroad.’
‘But I saw that big Dogkin use it.’
‘That’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘A Dogkin’s soul is part human, but Crowflies is as much demon as it is bird or fly. The energies of the Godroad would destroy it as surely as they purged your hand.’
‘But Crowflies is always with me.’
‘Not here,’ said Rochant. ‘You need to choose: stay with your demon or help me get back to my castle.’
Sa-at looked up. The castle looked even more beautiful up close. Gemslight glowed blue in the night from the battlements and windows. It softened the hard edges of the building, making it seem warm and magical. There would be people up there, all waiting to meet him as Rochant had promised. More than he could count. More than he could even imagine. Tal can’t manage on his own. Rochant’s need is greater than Crowflies.
‘I’ll come back soon!’ he shouted.
‘Sa-aat!’ protested the Birdkin.
‘I promise!’
‘Sa-aaaaat!’
He’d never heard Crowflies sound so sad before, and wiped a tear as h
e went away. He thought about the Birdkin many times as the road got steeper and steeper. Of course, it had left him to forage, but this felt different. Now there was a barrier between them, one only he could cross.
He also thought about the woman he’d seen.
I felt like I knew her.
I felt like I liked her.
I felt like she knew me!
If it hadn’t been for Tal, he would have said hello. He knew it wasn’t Tal’s fault but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.
After a while Crowflies was too far away to hear, which made Sa-at feel really bad. He had this horrible feeling he would not be back soon. It felt like they were not just travelling in miles, they were going into a different world. He was still excited by that, but also sad to be leaving his friend so far behind.
When they came level with the rocky base of the castle, Rochant told them where to find a side path.
‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ said Tal. ‘There’s not much path left.’
‘That’s as it should be. It’s a secret path. The going will be hard from here on, so rest if you need to.’
They did, but Sa-at had hardly closed his eyes when Rochant was ordering them up again. It seemed that the higher they got, the more he seemed to tell rather than suggest. It made Sa-at uncomfortable.
Slowly, they scrambled around the side of the castle until they came to some loose bricks. Under Rochant’s supervision, they removed them, revealing a small gap in the wall. Sa-at was able to squeeze through easily enough, but Tal and Rochant had to strip off their outer layers of padding to get through, and both were shivering by the time they’d got to the other side.
They were in a walled courtyard full of tents. Though the corner they’d arrived in was dark, there were lots of lit areas, and the sounds of people’s voices. Sa-at could hear talking and laughter, and something that sounded like talking but was more melodic. There were smells too, of food and fragrances that he had no name for. It took all of his self-control not to go and investigate further.
They hurriedly dressed Rochant again and carried him towards the side of the keep where a couple of steps led to a small door. ‘Keep your heads down and my hood up,’ Rochant instructed. ‘If anyone speaks to us, ignore them. If they insist, let me answer.’
‘Why are we hiding? Isn’t all this yours?’ asked Sa-at.
‘Not now,’ replied Rochant.
He bid them wait on the edge of the darkness. It seemed to Sa-at as if he were listening to something, and then, seemingly at random, told them to continue. They crossed the patch of light to get to the door and as they reached it, there was a loud roar from the tents, followed by lots of clapping.
Sa-at flinched from the sound but managed to stop from calling out. He’d learned long ago that staying small and quiet was the best way to survive. Suddenly, meeting all of those people seemed less appealing. They dragged Rochant up the stairs, but the door was locked.
‘Should I knock, my lord?’
‘Yes. Three short knocks, three slow ones, then one more.’
Tal did as instructed. After a while they heard slow footsteps on the other side of the door, and a heavy key being turned in a lock. The door opened to reveal a large kitchen that promised both delicious things to eat and a place to rest their tired limbs. Between them and it however, was a stern-looking woman, the oldest Sa-at had ever seen. Her teeth were yellow and her eyes sunk deep in a lined face. ‘Go away,’ she said.
‘Are you the cook?’ asked Rochant.
‘Aye.’
‘I was hoping for something to eat. Food fit for a lord.’
She scratched the side of her cheek thoughtfully. ‘I’ve a castle full of hungry lords to feed and I’ve only some scraps left to spare. What you after?’
‘A snack for the ages.’
Her body went rigid and she gripped the side of the door for support. ‘Might be I have what you want. But I warn you, it’s bitter.’
‘As it should be. All things that do not die …’
‘All things that do not die …’ she repeated in a whisper.
‘Are bitter,’ they finished together.
With a creak, the old woman dropped to her knees. ‘It’s you! Good Lord Rochant, back from the dead. I knew that other one wasn’t you. Knew it soon as I looked at him. He didn’t even know the proper words.’
She ushered them inside and they put Rochant into a comfortable chair while the old cook fussed about with all kinds of tools Sa-at had never seen before. He wanted to know what every one of them was called. And why everything was shaped the way it was. And how did they capture the stars and put them in their windows? He had so many questions!
He was also incredibly tired. He and Tal squeezed onto another chair together. It was hot in the room, a large shelf of sapphire casting blue light onto the ceiling and warmth to the walls.
‘To answer your earlier question,’ said Rochant. ‘This is all mine, but my enemies think they have taken it from me.’
‘Nasty people, they are, my lord,’ added the cook.
‘Now I’m here,’ continued Rochant, ‘I intend to take it back, and I’d like your help. What say you?’
Tal agreed instantly but Sa-at hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Your enemies aren’t my enemies. They might even be my friends.’
‘Trust me, they’re not. It’s not just my life they’ve taken away, Sa-at. It’s yours too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oooo!’ said the cook. ‘I see it now. He’s got his father’s eyes and his mother’s face.’
He looked at the old woman. ‘Do you know me?’
‘Saw you born, I did. Pretty little thing you were, we all said so.’
‘Help me,’ said Rochant, ‘and you’ll be reclaiming your own life too. They took you from your home and left you to die in the Wild.’
‘They did?’
The cook nodded sadly. ‘Killed your cousins and your father, would have killed you as well if old Roh hadn’t stopped them.’
It struck him then: this place should have been his home. He should have grown up surrounded by lovely smells and warm places to sit. He should have had a father and a mother, cousins, friends, people to watch out for him, people to hold him in the dark.
Sa-at didn’t often feel angry, but he felt angry now. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll help you.’
Rochant met his eyes, approving, and all of his tiredness fell away in a rush of pride.
The cook clapped her hands together. ‘I’ll go dig out some biscuits and a little of your favourite cheese, my lord. I can see it’s going to be a long night.’
Pari and Arkav bounded beneath the bulk of Lord Rochant’s floating castle, their armour glowing in the night. In great loping strides they came to the crest of rock at the edge of the great chasm. Waiting there were the Bringers of Endless Order, seven robed silhouettes. One of them broke away from the others to approach, the one who had agreed to help them, Pari was sure of it. In her armour, she felt sharper, more confident in her intuitions.
‘Good evening,’ said Pari.
‘Are you ready to begin?’
‘Not quite. Those lanterns you made for High Lord Tanzanite, the ones she gave to Lord Arkav. You designed them to work against the armour, didn’t you?’
‘We made what was asked of us.’
‘She knew Yadavendra wouldn’t go without a fight and so did you.’ She looked at Arkav. ‘But how did you know to use them as a weapon?’
‘High Lord Priyamvada told me before we left,’ Arkav replied. ‘She said they were a last resort.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? No, let me guess, she told you not to.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘She said I could be trusted to show proper restraint in their use.’ He shrugged, his wings glinting in the dark. ‘I agreed with her.’
‘After all this, you didn’t trust me?’
‘I trust you with my life, Pari.’ A hint of humour showed
in his eyes behind the helmet. ‘I just don’t trust you to show restraint.’
‘Believe me when I tell you I’m showing a lot of restraint right now.’
A lone howl sounded in the dark. The first of the predators setting out from the Wild. She turned back to the lead Bringer. ‘Was it really necessary to do this at night?’
‘Yes. The place you are going to is closer now than in the day.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘No,’ agreed the Bringer. ‘You will need this.’ She pointed to a large chunk of stone that had been wrapped several times in chain. There was a loop of links that formed a handle on the top.
‘Why?’
‘For its weight. You will be flying down, the currents will be pushing up. Let yourself be dragged deep. Lord Arkav’s presence will draw out the demons. When you have retrieved the lost piece of his soul, release the weight, and come back to us. We will light the way for you.’
Pari put on her best sarcasm. ‘Sounds simple enough.’
‘How do we find my … the … piece of me?’ asked Arkav.
‘It will find you but the demons will come with it. Separate them and we believe the rest will take care of itself.’
‘Believe?’ asked Pari.
‘It has been a thousand years since the last attempt.’
Attempt. They failed last time. ‘Do you mean demons like those in the Wild?’
The Bringer shook her head in a way Pari did not find encouraging.
‘Can you elaborate?’
The Bringer looked at her but said nothing.
‘Then I suppose we should get on with it.’
As she went to take the chain, Arkav took her arm. ‘You don’t have to do this. I could go alone.’
‘What and miss the chance to see what’s down there? I think not. Besides, you won’t last ten minutes without me.’
There was more she could say but she didn’t need to. Arkav could see it in her eyes. He nodded, and they picked up the chain. Between them it presented little challenge, though Pari wondered how the Bringers managed to drag it here. Maybe they too were stronger than they looked.
‘Watch for our lights,’ said the lead Bringer. ‘There will be seven, no more, no less. Only they will guide you home.’
In her last lifecycle, when Pari had leapt from Lord Rochant’s castle, she had done everything she could to avoid falling down this chasm. And now look at me.