Chasers of the Wind (34 page)

“Where to now?” I asked.

“Quiet. Let me think.”

The sky was already getting light. Thin threads of mist glistened like silver in between the vacant wooden rows of the market stalls. The horses snorted and stepped from foot to foot.

“The river is close,” whispered Shen.

“So is the cemetery,” spat Gis. “We didn’t come out where I expected.”

“There’s no point in worrying. All the inhabitants of the cemetery are in the town now. And leaving by the river would give us a real chance of getting out of this pit.”

“Let’s try to avoid swimming. There’s a way through a field not far from here.” The courier urged his horse forward. “Follow me!”

I could have argued and risked going on alone, but I didn’t. The courier clearly knew where he was going. Not to mention that it was more likely we’d survive if we stuck together.

Back to the streets, back to the crowds of the undead. We raced on, paying no attention to anything. I followed immediately after the courier, and Shen was behind me. Sometimes we had to cut our way through. In these instances the might of the horses and Shen’s skeem helped. Fate took care of me; I did not fall, and no one pulled me off my horse or even grabbed at me.
I don’t know who owned Stallion before, but he was a fine steed. If I survive, I’ll buy him a whole bag of oats. And I won’t begrudge him.

We zigzagged, swerved, doubled back, trying to shake the dead, who now and again pursued us, from our tail. At some point I realized that something had been bothering me for the last few minutes. I could no longer hear hoofbeats behind me. My blood went cold. I turned around in the saddle and saw nothing but a line of three of the undead straggling behind us.

Shen was lost. Whether he was delayed and missed a turn we’d taken, or something happened to his horse, or he was knocked out of his saddle, I didn’t know. In any case, he was no longer with us.

“Gis!” I shouted. “Shen fell behind!”

The courier nodded, indicating that he had heard, but he didn’t stop. He realized that it was useless to go looking for the lad in the dark streets teeming with the dead. We wouldn’t find him and we’d be lost ourselves. He’d either get out on his own or die; we no longer had any control over his destiny. My companion knew this just as well as I did, and so he did not even look back.

Was I sorry that the kid was gone? Yes, I dare say. Despite all his impudence and his nasty disposition, he wasn’t really all that bad. All in all, the Healer had saved Layen and me twice, so I hoped he had the luck to survive the night.

A short while later we broke out of the town and, driving our horses hard, we rushed away along a dusty road that led into hilly fields. Well, I was not mistaken about Gis. He really was capable of leading me out alive and unharmed. After galloping a bit more, we pulled in our reins and, standing up in the stirrups, looked back at Bald Hollow, which was wrapped up in the morning fog. If it weren’t for the fires, nothing would indicate the tragedy that had befallen the town.

“We can’t linger, man.” Gis’s face was glistening with sweat.

“Can we go around the town and get to the Al’sgara road?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My companion shook his head. “Your friends are already far away. We’d need to catch up to them, and our horses are very tired. And I won’t risk going closer to Bald Hollow. We’ll make our way through the fields. I know the way. We’ll be in Al’sgara in five days. We’ll meet them there.”

“Do you think the lad managed to escape?”

“I really hope so.”

By his eyes I could tell that he simply didn’t want to upset me. Casting a final glance at Dabb’s Bald Hollow, I nodded at the courier, indicating that we should be on our way.

14

Tal’ki had not lied. The weave really was quite simple. The Damned had enough strength to pour herself into the hanged guardsman on the first try. As soon as she did this, her dormant spark, sensing the support of an uninhabited body, flared up and shone brightly, and Tia gasped in delight. She screamed so triumphantly that Captain Nai, who was green with terror, recoiled from the revived corpse, tripped over a swine trough lying on the ground, and fell into the manure.

However, Typhoid’s rapture was premature. After a few tests, the Damned found that the capabilities of her temporary body were no match for those she had previously. Too much had been lost with the death of her true vessel. The feeling of ease vanished. Her delight plunged into a roaring, defiant deluge of destructive power. In a single moment, Tia had become the weakest of the Sextet. Even the despicable Mitifa could overpower her without any trouble.

The insult made her gnash her teeth.

Not even the knowledge that any of the Walkers would rend the clothes from their bodies just to enjoy the Damned’s current abilities comforted her. Power like this would be a gift from the gods to the upstarts of the Rainbow Valley. But Typhoid felt cheated. All she could do was hope that in time it would all return.

Her primary objective was to catch that boy Healer. Tia had no doubt that she would catch the fugitives. In killing her body, the archer had placed a “mark” on himself without even knowing it. Right now it was pointing to the west and with each day she journeyed it burned all the brighter.

After Typhoid tightened her control, her issues with Pork lessened. She had never inflicted pain on others just for her own pleasure. Rovan loved to torture, and the Damned hated him for this. But in this situation, the murderer of Sorita found that this tool was not without its uses because as soon as her spirit flowed into the body of Gry, the half-wit discovered his will again. She had to resort to causing him pain.

That same day she took a horse and, together with the half-wit, rushed off in pursuit. Of course, she could have brought a pair of clods with her so that she could use their bodies when her current one became worthless, but the Damned would prefer a woman’s form. She was already starting to feel nauseous from all these men.

As Typhoid had assumed, the idiot kept his saddle worse than a straw scarecrow. She always had to keep an eye on her ward. Despite the fact that she now had her own vessel, she needed rest and sleep. The first night, as soon as Typhoid fell asleep and relaxed her grip, the cowherd decided to run away. At the very moment when he got twenty yards away from her, Tia felt the full meaning of Tal’ki’s words about being pulled out “like a dog on a leash.” However, Leprosy could have just as easily compared it to the sensations of a salmon that has been hooked and pulled from the water. The bonds that connected her to the half-wit strained and Typhoid flew out of Gry’s body like a cork from a bottle of sparkling Morassian wine.

It was not the most pleasant way to wake up. She was so angry that she almost crippled the imbecile. Pork didn’t try to escape anymore. The half-wit’s spirit gave up the fight over his body, stopped popping out like a Mort from a dark doorway, sat quietly, and became one less headache.

After three days Gry’s body became unfit for her, and Tia once again had to hang over the shoulder of the moron. It truly irritated her. Suppressing his will, she took control over the other’s body.

Sensing that she would catch up to the people who had caused her so much trouble, she drove both horses, hardly slept, and stopped only to let the animals graze and to feed the cowherd. The last thing she needed was for the fool to die.

On the fourth day, Tia broke free from the Forest Region.

She had the grim thought that in the populated areas she would get the chance to find a new body and once again touch her Gift. There had to be dead people in this backwater!

There turned out to be far more dead people in the area than she had expected. The land was simply swarming with them. When four animated corpses jumped out onto the road in front of her, Tia acted without hesitation, regardless of her surprise. Because she was inside Pork she couldn’t direct the kukses, let alone get rid of them. She needed a couple of seconds to create the weave that would put her in the body of a woman whose throat was torn. The Damned made contact with her Gift and, with a sharp slap of her hands, broke the ties of the summoning that was forcing the dead to live. The eyes of the three who were approaching the terrified horses extinguished, and the creatures fell like logs to the ground.

“Khsssand khup.” Because of its torn larynx, this body had difficulty emitting the necessary sounds and was wheezing like a snake dying of apoplexy.

Pork had fallen from the saddle and was now crawling around in the dust, wringing his hands imploringly and sobbing. The sight of the half-eaten, living corpses had sent him into paroxysms of fear. He even wet his pants. Typhoid shuddered in disgust. Would her torment never end? Being with such a pathetic nitwit was trying her patience.

“Mistress,” he babbled, wiping away snot. “Mistress, they … they…”

“Khsssand khup now.”

It worked.

“Ffffollowkh khe khorsssesss khand kheep khlossse.”

He obeyed. Typhoid was finally able to address more pressing problems. She wondered where all the kukses had come from. As far as she knew, none of the Elect were supposed to be in this area. The battles were being waged far to the north and the sorcerers had been strictly forbidden from coming near Al’sgara until Tal’ki gave the order. Had someone disobeyed the prohibition? Or was it…?

She cursed herself for her own stupidity and quickly checked the amount of power gathered over the town.

“Khe Kkabysssss takhe me!” she gasped sharply, astonished.

The power around her was so great that it made her roar in ecstasy. She could swim in it, scoop up handfuls of it, waste it without a twinge of conscience. Without begrudging the expense. The most amazing thing was that there was no doubt who this outburst of power belonged to. Even a clumsy fool from the First Sphere could identify his own spark. All the power hovering around had once belonged to her.

It reminded her of fish flakes spilled from an enormous container. And now Tia swallowed the power like a hungry fish; she inhaled it, and with each passing second she became stronger and stronger.

She felt like exulting and singing.

This was why even in the bodies of the dead she felt so worthless. How could she forget about this? Indeed, in the ancient books such phenomena were mentioned! And this is exactly what happened after the deaths of Ginora and Retar—an enormous release of uncontrolled power into the world and unrestrained kukses arising from their graves in the hundreds.

Only now did Typhoid understand why Tal’ki had taken the time to visit such places then. The cunning creature had told them that she was going to get the kukses under control, but really the old snake had been gathering the others’ power! That was the key to the growth of her power! She had fed off what remained of the two who had departed for the Abyss.

The sly, dangerous witch! She had fooled them all. She had stolen so much power, and they, idiots that they were, only rejoiced that Leprosy had taken on the onerous task of pacifying the kukses.

The old crone!

Not to worry! Tal’ki wasn’t here, and Tia’s spirit could absorb at least part of what it had lost through the death of her body. It rightfully belonged to her and would make her spark burn more fiercely.

The Damned rejoiced.

*   *   *

She was wandering through the deserted city streets, illuminated by the bright sunshine, collecting the scattered bits of her Gift. They did not just hover in the air, but also rested in the throngs of zombies. She had no problem drawing them out. The kukses sensed Pork and the horses and ran toward them in an attempt to assuage their hunger, but in obedience to Tia’s commands, they died a second time, releasing her priceless strength.

There were far more of the dead than she had expected. Those who had surged up from the local cemetery had added those who had been alive the previous evening to their number. Typhoid only stopped and took a rest late at night, when she was as full to bursting with power as a wineskin.

She had done it. She had reaped a rich harvest. Her spark was rekindled almost to its previous level and she had freed the unfortunate town from the living dead. However, the latter was not part of her plan. That’s just what happened, and she was far from considering it a good thing. As the Damned had assumed, nothing living remained in Bald Hollow. So there was no one to thank her. However, she needed this gratitude much less than Pork needed new pants.

Typhoid snorted irritably, and the cowherd standing in front of her cringed, fearing the wrath of Mistress.

What a great comparison! It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get new pants for the fool. The ones he had on were rather off-putting.

“Ffffollowkh me,” she croaked, and the cowherd, still shaking from the terrifying day he’d lived through, dragged himself after her.

During her wanderings around the town, Tia had seen a shop that sold ready-made clothes. She thought it was high time to dress the blessed fool in clean clothes.

The Damned entered the shop and looked around. It did not take her long to find the right clothes for Pork. Clean underwear, new pants, a shirt, and a good jacket transformed the fool. Typhoid studied him with a critical eye and, finding herself satisfied with the result, took control of his body, simultaneously leaving the corpse of the woman with the slashed throat. Now it was not quite so disgusting to stand behind the left shoulder of her servant.

As she expected, the spark faded after the transition, but the gathered strength remained. Typhoid may have lost an entire day, but her Gift was far more important than her enemies. With it, she had a chance to regain her former might. And the insects wouldn’t escape her. Typhoid could sense them even now and she would have no problem catching them, even though they had decided to confuse their tracks and flee across the fields instead of along the decent road.

Tia-Pork leapt into the saddle and continued the chase.

*   *   *

“We’ll get to the road in about an hour.”

I nodded and buttoned my jacket. The early morning was overcast; the air was cold, not yet heated by the rising sun, but the earth was warm. Fog hung over the fields and covered the short grass. It had already filled the ravines and gullies to the brim, and was now flowing around them, threatening to rise up off the ground to its full height and plunge the world into a milky shroud.