Lakhoni (4 page)

Lakhoni
blinked, trying to make out the speaker in the jittering shadows of the
now-blazing bonfire. He saw nobody, only the swelling darkness under the trees
at the edge of the village. “Who said that? Who’s there?”

No,
the voice had been too close for it to have come from the trees. Lakhoni turned
a slow circle, beginning to wonder if he had imagined the question and the
speaker.

“You
know that does no good, don’t you?” The voice came from behind him again.

Lakhoni
spun again. Nothing . . . again.

“Who
are you? Where are you?” A chill oozed up Lakhoni’s neck. Was this a spirit
come to rebuke him for his slowness?

“Right
here, cub.”

A
deep shadow on the side of one of the huts writhed. Then part of the shadow detached
itself from the rest of the darkness.

Lakhoni’s
breath caught in his throat. Fear made his muscles weak and his legs feel as if
they were the branches of a young sapling. Was this one of the vengeful spirits
Salno had often spoken of and that Lamorun had scoffed at?

The
person—or creature—stepped into the firelight. The figure stood at least two
hand-lengths taller than Lakhoni, and Lakhoni had already reached his father’s
height. The man wore a deep red loin cloth that looked to have been made from a
bear pelt. His left shoulder was covered by some kind of shining material—it
looked to be bronze or something similar—and bracers of the same material
stretched from his upper arm to his shoulder.

A
wicked-looking obsidian dagger was strapped to the belt of the man’s loincloth.
A quiver of dark-fletched arrows peeked over his right shoulder. But it was the
man’s face and torso that injected the fear into Lakhoni. The man’s head was
shaved, bald and shiny. Black tattoos swirled all over his scalp, face, and
neck. The intricate patterns gave way to what looked like a snarling image of a
panther on the man’s chest. The panther’s long white teeth seemed to glint in
the light of the funeral pyre, its lips almost appearing to quiver with life.
Countless scars covered the man’s chest, stomach, and arms.

This
was worse than a vengeful spirit. This was a demon in flesh, one of the Living
Dead that mothers warned would steal misbehaving children from their sleeping
pads if they continued to disobey.

As
the man approached, his movements tight like a drawn bowstring, but graceful
like the panther on his chest, Lakhoni instinctively stepped backward. The heat
of the roaring fire just behind him brought him back to himself, the pain
awakening him from his fear.

“It
does no good, cub, to try to help your dead in their journey,” the man said.
“There is no journey.” He stopped a hand-span in front of Lakhoni. “Death is
the end. So a good death, and a good life, is what matters.”

Lakhoni
realized he was looking the man directly in the eyes and he tore his gaze away.
He had no idea what to say. Why would a Living Dead have come here? Was it true
that they ate the flesh of the dead?

Lakhoni
would be able to do nothing to stop this man if he wanted to feast on Lakhoni’s
friends and family.

“Don’t
worry, cub. I’m not going to eat your people. I respect the clay that is left
behind at death.”

Lakhoni
glanced up, meeting the man’s gaze once more.
Can he hear my thoughts?
He looked away quickly, turning to face the bonfire. He cast his eyes over the
inferno and took a small step backwards.
Maybe if I run quickly, he’ll be
taken by surprise. I might be able to make it to the river and hide in the
water.

A
heavy hand dropped on his shoulder. “And don’t run. I have no intention of
hurting you.”

The
hand on his shoulder felt like a burning coal. The touch made his skin crawl.
He wanted to pull away, but he might anger the man if he drew back.

“I
know you can speak, cub. I heard you saying their names in that silly ritual.”
The tall man wore a glinting grin. “I won’t hurt you. Be at ease.”

Lakhoni
had to get away. The Living Dead never left anybody alive. Stories said that
they would even slit the throats of their own wounded if the injured warrior
couldn’t move on by himself. They left nobody behind to tell tales.

“What’s
your name?”

Lakhoni
clamped his mouth shut, terrified of speaking.

“I
am Gimno.”

The
heavy hand left Lakhoni’s shoulder and Lakhoni burst into motion, flinging
himself away from the fire and the specter of the devil in flesh. His head
throbbed every time his feet pounded on the hard-packed dirt of the village
center. Within seconds, he was gasping for breath. His heart slapped the inside
of his chest. Air burned in and out of his throat. Blood drummed loudly in his
head. He reached for the tree line, seeking a trunk to help him take a sharp
turn toward the river.

Something
slammed into his right side, flinging him to the ground. The tattooed man stood
over him, his teeth flickering pale white from the bonfire. “I told you I
wouldn’t hurt you. Now I’ve had to break my word.”

Lakhoni
sucked in air, the throbbing in his head making him feel suddenly drowsy. He
found he was more angry than afraid. This loosed his tongue. “Why are you here?
Who are you?”

“I
told you,” the man said, offering a hand to help Lakhoni to his feet. “I am
Gimno.”

Lakhoni
ignored the offered hand, pushing himself to his feet. He gripped his side as a
sharp pang tore through him. His hand came away warm and wet. “Why are you
here?”

“To
pillage.”

The
man’s brutal honesty felt like a slap. Lakhoni blinked, taken aback. His anger
flared. “Only two days dead? You came to steal my people’s things, the only
thing left of them, and they are only two days gone?”

The
fearsome man grinned again. “Eloquent, aren’t you?” He walked back toward the
fire. “It’s not stealing if they’re dead. They don’t care anymore.”

Lakhoni
stalked after the man. He knew his anger could do nothing but harm. He knew
also that he would not try to fight this man. This . . . Gimno.
“I care. I’m not dead. Not yet.”

“And
so we will not claim right to this village and all in it. You survive so it is
all yours now.” Gimno stopped near the lowering fire.

Lakhoni
stepped next to him. “Who are you to say that it’s mine? You have no right to
―
”

“I
don’t need to say it’s yours, cub,” Gimno snapped. “Natural law says it. The
law of the forest dictates it. Just because you are too dense to understand
this does not mean I will tolerate disrespect.”

The
man’s anger radiated from him in a heat almost comparable to the now-dying
funeral pyre.

Lakhoni
stood silently, unsure of what he should say. Should he beg forgiveness? Would
this man strike him down if he didn’t?

“I
like you, cub.”

The
sudden change in the man’s voice made Lakhoni glance up. A fierce smile adorned
the man’s tattooed face, his eyes glinting. “You’ve got a spine. Most people
would have turned to limp grass just at the sight of me.”

Once
again, Lakhoni had no idea what he could say to this.

“But
you’ve got to learn to speak when spoken to. This silence is insulting.”

The
man’s sudden glare stabbed into Lakhoni. How could a human go from smiling to
angry then back to smiling—then back again so fast? “We will start with your
name.” The man stared intently at Lakhoni.

If
I give him my name, will he have power over me?
Of course, if Lakhoni didn’t
give his name, perhaps the man would use his obsidian dagger to cut him down at
that very moment.

“Lakhoni.”
He tried hard to keep his voice steady and clear.

“He
has a tongue!” The man slapped Lakhoni on the shoulder. “Good to see that
Zyron’s dogs didn’t cut that out of you when they cut everybody down.”

Then
the rumors were true. The Living Dead had no loyalty to the king.

“No,”
Lakhoni said. “They left me for dead.”

“Then
you are truly one of the Living Dead. Welcome.”

 “But . . .”
Lakhoni glanced at the waning funeral pyre. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“A
spine and honest. You’re a rare one. With a name like ‘Formidable Servant,’
it’s no surprise,” the man said.

“How—how’d
you know that?” His mother had made a point of telling her children what their
names meant in the old language.

“‘Lak’
means servant. ‘Honi’ means formidable.” The man glanced down at Lakhoni, then
turned to face the mountains. “Not difficult if you get some learning in you.”
He began to walk toward the eastern edge of the village. “Now come. Your
village will be fine for now.”

“Come
where?” Lakhoni asked.

“To
your new people. We will return soon to collect your things, but for now, you
need a healer.”

“I
can’t leave here. This is my home.” Lakhoni cast his eyes about, the dark
shapes of the huts dancing with shadows thrown by the dying pyre.

“No,
this is a burial ground. Your home is elsewhere now.” The man threw a glance
over his shoulder. “You must trust the Separated. You are Living Dead now,
Lakhoni cub.”

They
left the light behind. As they walked, Lakhoni felt as if he were fading away
into the trees, his soul dissipating into the deepening shadows under the wild boughs.
He glanced over his shoulder, glimpsing the glowing embers interspersed with
dark shapes that were all that remained of his family.

No,
there is still Alronna.
Lakhoni
focused on moving his near-dead body forward, the distance between him and Gimno
lengthening steadily.
I’ll find her.

An
idea flashed through his mind. Maybe he could slowly let Gimno get farther
ahead of him and then he could just duck into the trees. The king’s raiders
must have come from Zyronilxa, the capital city. He could follow them there and
find Alronna. Lamorun had often talked about going to live in Zyronilxa or some
other big city, going on about how different life was there. Of course, Lamorun
would never go to a city now. Lakhoni wondered if things would have been different
if Lamorun and the other older boys had been around to fight.

Bitterness
filled Lakhoni.
That’s the real thieving. Forcing every man and boy of
fighting age to wage war on the Usurpers to try to get the Abundance back.

“Keep
up, cub!” Gimno’s voice sliced through Lakhoni’s thoughts. “If you make me miss
my evening meal, or even be late for it, perhaps I shall spit you and roast you
as a tender appetizer!” A rich, rolling laugh filled the forest, echoing
amongst the trees.

Lakhoni
automatically lengthened his stride for a few steps, but then remembered that
he was trying to get far enough behind to escape. But the fierce man had caught
him so fast the last time! True, Gimno was a terrifying-looking person. But the
warrior’s laugh sounded so much like Salno’s, and he had seemed sincere when
welcoming Lakhoni into the ranks of the Living Dead.

The
decision made, Lakhoni stretched to catch up to Gimno.
For now. But when my
wounds are healed, I’ll go find Alronna.
In another few minutes, he was
able to walk abreast of the tall man. Lakhoni glanced at Gimno. People said the
Living Dead lived in dark spaces, emerging like demons from shadows to murder
and steal. But Gimno was a man. Or was he a demon in the flesh of a man?

Pain
throbbed with each step. He couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer, but
complaining to Gimno didn’t seem like a good idea. He hesitated for a moment,
unsure of how to begin.

“Whatever
it is, by the First Fathers just say it!” Gimno’s loud voice challenged the now
fully dark night.

Lakhoni
forced himself to be calm. He couldn’t live in fear. “When will we get to your
people?”

“We
will arrive at our settlement in another hour.” Gimno threw a quick glance down
at Lakhoni. “But my
people
?” The man snorted.

Lakhoni
bristled. It was obvious the tall man was mocking him. “What?”

“You
have much to learn, cub.”

“I’m
not a child!” Lakhoni said. “Why do you call me cub?”

“There’s
that spine!” Gimno slapped Lakhoni on his injured shoulder. Lakhoni tried not
to hiss in pain, but couldn’t stop the sudden intake of breath.

“What?”
Gimno stopped walking, placing a gentle hand on Lakhoni’s other shoulder and
pressing down to make him stop too.

“Nothing.”
Lakhoni tore his eyes away from Gimno’s fierce gaze.

“You
are injured more than I thought.”

Fingers
probed his shoulders, chest, sides, and back. Gimno muttered as he conducted
his examination. When he was finished, Gimno trapped Lakhoni’s eyes again. “You
must not hide serious injury. You weaken yourself and you weaken your cohort
when you do this.”

Lakhoni
had no idea what Gimno was talking about. What was a cohort?

 “I’ll
be fine.”

“Yes,
you’ll be fine. But in the meantime, you will be weak and that could make
things very much ‘not fine.’”

 “Is
there anything else?”

Lakhoni
met Gimno’s eyes again. He searched for a reason to say there was nothing, but
he surprised himself by being honest with the man. “My head. That’s why they
thought I was dead, I think.”

Gimno’s
hands, again strangely gentle, brushed over Lakhoni’s head. After a moment,
Lakhoni felt the weight of Gimno’s stare again.

“You
should be dead.”

“What
do you mean?” Lakhoni asked.

Gimno
turned and began walking, his left hand on the back of Lakhoni’s neck, firmly
pulling the young man along. “That blow should have killed you. Your brains
should be giving an unfortunate vulture gas right about now.”

“I
have a thick head.”

That
rich, rolling laugh that sounded like it came from a fat man echoed through the
forest again. “Or perhaps you’re too stupid to know when to die.”

“Maybe
my brains hid in my feet,” Lakhoni said. He was surprised to feel a smile
beginning to stretch his lips. He fought it away—this was not a time for jokes.

“I
think it more likely that you simply don’t have any brains at all.”

Lakhoni
glanced up at the man. Gimno’s teeth glowed in a wide smile. Lakhoni had to
fight his own smile away again.

“Back
to your question,” Gimno said after many minutes had passed.

“What
question?”

“About
my people and when we would get to them.”

“You
said an hour.”

“No,
I said we would be at the settlement in an hour.”

Lakhoni
bit his tongue to control his retort.

Gimno
spread his arms wide to both sides. “But my people have been with us this
entire time. Open your eyes.”

Lakhoni’s
heart skipped as shadows suddenly slinked closer to him. As the shapes got
closer, he realized that he and Gimno were surrounded by the Living Dead. Shiny
heads and torsos glinted in the pale light of the rising moon. Somehow, a horde
of Gimno’s people had been with them the entire journey, stalking through the
forest completely undetected. This was more than the Dance with the Forest;
this was unearthly ability.

At
that moment, desire overcame his fear. Gimno had said Lakhoni was one of them
now. That had to mean he could be trained. Watching the dangerous stealth in
each movement of the people around him, Lakhoni decided he would learn to move
like the Living Dead, how to fight like them. Then, when he could beat any man
in combat and he knew he could not fail, he would go and find his sister.