Scarred Man (10 page)

And Maida.

TULUGMA TAUGHT YOU WELL, SWORDMASTER KESHIK. KIELEVINENROHKIMAINEN WILL NOT FEED FROM YOU. I HAVE OTHERS WHO NEED MY ATTENTION.

And the other consciousness was gone, leaving Keshik alone in the utter black of night, staring into the wind, breathing in the scent of the Sixth Waste.

It was a good patch of mangase and the Kuvnos harvested for six days. Slave was given the first piece he found in a simple ritual on the second morning. Vasilis had kept it aside from the sorting, drilled a hole in it and threaded a leather thong through. That it was worth a great deal of money as well as signifying his membership of the Kuvnos gave Slave a lot to think about. He put it from his mind as he worked at harvesting the little pieces of rock that would bring him closer to Leserlang.

‘Slave,' a voice grunted.

‘Tynos,' Slave replied.

‘You harvest well,' the older man observed.

Slave said nothing.

‘We are close to having enough to sell in Leserlang.'

Slave continued to wait for this man to say something that might need a response.

‘Vasilis told you we run first out here, not stand and fight?'

‘Yar.'

‘You see the sunlight in Lac'u?' Tynos asked, surprise in his voice.

‘Probably.'

‘You're either from Lac'u or not. It's not something to guess at.'

‘Perhaps.' Slave wondered again at this need people had to know where you were from, and who your ancestors were.
Ancestors are dead, what do they have to do with anything?

‘We run because Vasilis is a coward.'

‘A coward, or prudent?'

‘A coward,' Tynos assured him. ‘What do you know about mangase?' he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

‘It's a hard metal. When you mix it with steel in the right proportions, it makes the steel harder and stronger. It holds a better edge for longer, and rusts slower.'

‘Can you make this “steel” with it?'

Slave shook his head. ‘But I have read about the process. It doesn't seem that difficult.'

‘What else do you know about it?'

‘It's very valuable.'

Tynos squinted, exaggerating the peculiar half-hooded look all the Kuvnos had, presumably from Crossings of staring into the screaming winds. ‘How valuable?'

Slave pulled his own piece from where it lay, nestled beneath his borrowed yok. ‘This is worth about a month's wages for a skilled worker, maybe two, depending on its purity.'

Tynos whistled. ‘That's a lot more than we get
for it. We would get maybe that much for our whole harvest.'

‘You need to bargain harder.'

‘Vasilis can't even do that.'

When Slave did not respond, Tynos grunted and walked away. Slave watched him go, wondering what the conversation had meant. He had no doubt the conversation was significant, but he knew he did not understand people well yet.

Every day from then on, the older man, sometimes with other men, just happened to walk past Slave as he harvested. They always talked quietly about Vasilis, mangase, the prosperity of the Kuvnos and innocently — it seemed — they managed to steer the conversation around to Slave's skills. Slave knew he did not understand people, and the subtleties of this kind of interaction escaped him, but he was not stupid. The men, especially Tynos, were up to something and he was central to it. He didn't like it, but he also didn't know what to do about it.

By the end of the sixth day, no more mangase had been found and the area around the natona had been dug for many paces out in every direction. Even under the natona's shelter, the ground had been explored by those who did not go out to dig during the day. The talk around the Kuvnos as he stood in line for his evening meal was that Vasilis would be calling to shift their shadow in the morning.

Since the first night, Slave had found Kirri confusing. At some times she was friendly and close, at others she was abrupt and distant. After a day of this, Slave gave up trying to work it out and just focused on his harvest. He found ten promising pieces
after his first, six of which were mangase. A total, he discovered, that was regarded as a good harvest, earning him a level of respect within the Kuvnos.

‘Slave.'

The voice jarred, jolting him out of his normal reverie. He looked around to see Amatios standing beside him.

‘Vasilis wants to see you after you've eaten.'

‘Where?'

Amatios jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Vasilis stood in deep conversation with two other men. As if he sensed Slave's gaze upon him, the solpon of the Kuvnos looked up and stared back. His expression was sombre but he nodded a greeting as he gestured for Slave to approach.

The other men fell silent as Slave drew near. He recognised them as Tynos and Hue, both men whose words were listened to. Their expressions did not change when Slave stood in front of them.

‘You wanted to speak with me?'

Vasilis scratched at his stubbled chin as he regarded Slave intently. ‘You have harvested with us, rested in our shadow and walked with us, sharing our warmth,' he said with the intonations of ritual. ‘But you are not trusted.'

Slave said nothing, wondering where this was heading. The silence persisted as Vasilis waited for Slave's response. Finally, he sighed.

‘I forget, you don't know our traditions. You don't know what to say next, do you?'

Slave shook his head slowly.

Vasilis looked about to say more when Hue placed his hand on his solpon's arm, silencing him.

‘We do not have time for this,' Hue hissed.

Vasilis grunted and shook Hue's hand off. ‘We move our shadow today,' he growled. ‘I say what we have time for.'

Hue stepped back and lowered his head in acceptance of Vasilis's words. Slave watched him, noting the hardness in his eye, the set of his mouth.

You are dangerous
, he realised. He had seen looks like that on the hard fighters Sondelle had sent against him during the long darkness of his training.

‘Slave,' Vasilis spoke, making Slave look sharply away from Hue. ‘We are moving our shadow today, but I am still not sure about you.'

Slave said nothing, preferring to wait for Vasilis to continue.

‘It is our tradition that only members of the tribe can travel with us beyond one shift of our shadow. We have already shifted once, and it is time to decide whether we accept you into the tribe or cast you out.' Vasilis shot the glowering Hue a hard stare before going on. ‘Hue believes you are a dangerous man who does not belong with us. He would have you cast out here and now, but I am not so sure.'

When Slave continued to stare impassively without speaking, Vasilis sighed again and went on.

‘What do you want, Slave?' he asked.

Slave simply shook his head. He did not know what to say even though he was sure this was important.

‘Stay with us, or leave?' Vasilis pressed.

‘Stay, I think.'

‘You think?'

‘I … am not sure. My path leads to Leserlang, where I need to learn about something dangerous. Our paths seem to both be heading there. It would be better for me to travel with you.'

‘Dangerous? How?'

‘Something happened at the Place of the Acolytes. I think the answer is in Leserlang.'

‘The Place? What do you know about that?'

‘What did I say, Vasilis?' Hue burst out. ‘He is dangerous and this proves it.'

Vasilis rounded on the man with eyes blazing. ‘Do not interfere with this! I will decide.' He returned his gaze to Slave. ‘Tell me about what happened at the Place.'

‘It was attacked and destroyed by an army of Duregs.'

‘Duregs?'

‘I think so.'

‘I'd heard about the Place being attacked, but not about the Duregs.'

Slave shrugged. What Vasilis did or didn't know was not of interest to him. In fact the whole conversation had become less interesting. He was becoming impatient, bored with Vasilis's ignorance, and started to look around at the rest of the tribe as they went about the business of preparing to leave. Obviously, despite the fact that Vasilis had not yet called for the move, everyone knew about it. He allowed his gaze to roam over the milling tribe, watching them go about their tasks.

‘Don't ignore me when I am speaking to you!' Vasilis snapped.

Slave sensed the swing of Vasilis's arm a moment before the blow would have landed. His reaction was instinctive and fast. He moved his head back to avoid the swinging hand, grabbing the wrist as it went past. He jerked hard downwards, forcing Vasilis to overbalance completely. As he dropped to his knees, Slave wrenched the arm back. The combination of Vasilis's own momentum and Slave's savage force ripped the elbow apart. The crack of bone and ligament was drowned by Vasilis's sudden scream of agony.

‘Ice and wind!' Slave gasped. He released the ruin that was Vasilis's right arm and backed away. ‘I didn't mean to do that, I just reacted when you swung at me.'

‘He didn't hit you,' Hue said.

‘He was going to.'

‘Fast. I've never seen anyone move that fast,' said Tynos, apparently unconcerned by the shrieking man at his feet. He stared almost dreamily at Slave. ‘I think we've found a new solpon,' he muttered.

‘What?' asked Slave.

Tynos gestured down to where Vasilis screamed on the ground, clutching at his destroyed arm. The rest of the tribe had stopped to stare, most of them apparently unsure what to do. A number of younger men were fingering weapons, but no one was moving, no one seemed ready to act, as if waiting for a command.

‘Our solpon has always been chosen on strength and the ability to lead us. Vasilis obviously has neither now.' He drew his harvesting pick and struck down hard on Vasilis's head, cutting off the
screams instantly. ‘Solpon,' he said as he rose, addressing Slave. ‘Shall we move our shadow now?'

Stunned, Slave could not respond, staring down at Vasilis's dead body. His own responsibility for this senseless death weighed down on him already.

‘Solpon?' Tynos repeated. ‘Do we move our shadow?'

Slave snapped his gaze up to regard Tynos. ‘I don't care what you do,' he said. ‘I will not give any orders. You do not follow me.' The idea of leading these people made him remember Korbinian and his little tribe, all slaughtered because they chose to follow him.

‘You said you were heading to Leserlang.'

‘I am.'

‘Then the Kuvnos will follow.'

‘No!' Slave shouted. ‘I will not lead you.' He started to back away from Tynos and the other men who were approaching. There was no fear in their eyes, just excitement, anticipation. All Slave could see, all he could hear, was the battle when Korbinian's tribe were slaughtered. It was his fault they died, and he would not, could not, face that again.

Tynos glared at him, as if challenging him, but Slave shook his head and walked away from the natona. Behind him, he heard Tynos bellow the order to shift their shadow and make for Leserlang. Slave pulled his yok tighter around his chest, tucked his chin down and kept walking.

A hand grabbed his arm and pulled. Slave was about to strike, but even through the layers of heavy clothing, he could tell the grip was not strong. As he restrained himself, Slave realised it
was a woman's hand. He stopped walking and turned to face Kirri. She snatched her hand back and rested both of her fists on her hips. Her eyes blazed and her mouth was set in a tight line.

‘Where do you think you are going?' she snapped.

Slave gestured towards the south. ‘Leserlang.'

A small twitch changed the shape of Kirri's mouth. ‘It's over there,' she corrected, pointing in a more easterly direction.

‘How can you possibly know?' Slave said with exasperation as he looked out at the featureless plain.

‘I've lived all my life out here, I know which direction is which.'

‘I don't.'

‘You don't know much, do you?'

‘I certainly don't know what you're doing here.'

‘Stay with us,' Kirri said. ‘Stay with us until we get to Leserlang, at least.'

Slave shook his head. ‘I will not lead you. I will not tell anyone what to do.'

‘You don't have to. We don't really need a leader. Just stay with us.'

‘Why? I am dangerous to anyone near me.'

‘No. You are surrounded by peace.'

Slave snorted. ‘You don't know anything about me. You don't want me anywhere near you.'

Kirri lowered her eyes and gripped the edge of her yok. ‘I do,' she said softly.

A sudden insight came to Slave. ‘You said you want me near you; is that Kirri, or the Kuvnos?'

Kirri raised her head and held Slave's eye proudly. ‘Kirri,' she said.

They met up with the other Agents under Huitzilin's command a few days out from Leserlang. Huitzilin and the other two Agents moved out of the wagon to ride, leaving her alone with the taciturn wagon driver. The wagon rumbled on through the woodland, the shade bringing welcome relief from the heat. Maida lay on her back on the floor, being rocked and bounced with every jolting movement as they headed relentlessly south-east. She was fed regularly and given water whenever she asked, but apart from that no one spoke to her, and she was watched intently the whole time. Huitzilin was clearly taking no further chances with her.

Each night, she was let out of the wagon and left to sleep on the ground beneath its shelter, chained to one of the wheels. She lay alone, listening to the idle chatter of her captors.

‘Long time out,' one said.

‘Too long.'

‘At last we're heading home with something.'

‘Like how many others?'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘Think about it, man. The Queen sent out how many xuauhtlis? Two hundred? Three hundred? Nearly five thousand Agents, all of us with the same orders — find and bring back the female companion of the Scarred Man. Seriously, how many women like that are there?'

‘Careful, the Queen is watching.'

‘Watching, yes, but listening? I doubt it.'

‘How many of us will ever get home?' came a different voice, one Maida had not heard before. It was a harsh, low voice, sounding like it had been damaged, possibly from a throat wound.

His quiet question stilled the conversation for a while. Maida found herself wondering how many Agents there were in a xuauhtli. She counted the men around the fire; including Huitzilin, there were eight.

‘We're lucky we weren't sent too far west,' Opochtli said softly.

‘Some of us were,' the damaged voice said.

‘I've heard it's bad,' Opochtli said.

‘You've heard nothing.'

‘Tell us the truth, then, Atl.'

Atl grunted. ‘Not much to tell. There's more scarred men out there than unscarred ones. But very few are travelling — they are either fleeing or insane.' He hesitated. ‘Or more likely both.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘The army over there, it's like nothing I've ever heard of. They're all insane, and I mean
insane
. They scream all the time, drooling and biting their own tongues. They kill anything that moves, animals, people, trees that wave in the wind.'

‘Ha! Now I know you're joking, Atl.'

‘I'm not.'

There was something dark, something utterly emotionless in Atl's tone that sent a chill through Maida. She remembered the mob who had chased them out of Vogel, the men and women who had slashed their own faces with expressions of agonised ecstasy, the thing that had risen from the ground before them. She remembered how it had looked at them but held off when it saw the marks on Keshik's face.

‘They destroy everything, burning and tearing down anything in their way,' Atl went on.

‘But where do they sleep? What about logistics and supplies? They are still human, they have to eat.'

‘You don't want to know what they eat,' Atl said. ‘And they are not a conquering army, not an organised force like a real army. Anyone who is hurt or falls behind is left to die. They just drive on without thought to the niceties of camps or supplies. They sleep where they fall and eat whatever they grab. There are no logistics; the thing leading them is not human and it cares nothing for its followers.'

‘What is it?'

Atl shrugged. ‘As far as I know, no one knows.'

‘I know,' Maida said. ‘I was there when it first erupted out of the ground.'

Every face turned towards her, every eye intense.

‘What did you say?' Huitzilin asked.

‘I was there. I've seen it.'

‘What is it?'

‘It is the evil that was buried beneath Vogel.'

‘That's just a myth.'

Maida pointed at Atl. ‘Ask him how much of a myth it is.'

From her position on the ground, chained by the ankle to the wheel of the wagon, Maida could not see the expressions on their faces, but Atl was the first to look away. In the inconstant orange light of the fire, the tears streaming down his face were clear.

What did you do, Keshik, when you made that bargain to bring me back? What have we unleashed on the world?

Slowly they looked away from her, to stare silently into the fire. There was no more conversation that night as the Agents lost themselves in their own thoughts. Maida's thoughts led her inexorably back to the dark and horrible time between the moment the Warrior's Claw had smashed into her head and when Keshik cradled her, naked and freezing, against his bloodied chest.

She tried every day to put the experience behind her, but here, alone, under the wagon remembering the sight of that black, gnarled thing erupting from the ground, it all flooded back to her. She could see again the lightning-fast blade flying past her guard, feel that moment of unspeakable agony as it shattered her skull. The utter black, the insufferable cold of nothing where she hung motionless, the growing terror as those things came towards her, emerging from the dark.

It took all of her strength to keep from screaming in horror as she recalled the things they did to her, their slavering jaws, their huge rending talons. And
always, hovering just beyond them, silently smiling at her, was that figure. It was almost human, but so clearly not. Somehow she knew it was controlling the things, urging them on, holding them back, keeping her helpless while they ripped and tore at her non-corporeal form which could feel, but neither move nor be destroyed.

Was it death she had experienced, or something else?

She must not sleep, not now that they were back in her mind. If she slept, she would lose control over her memories and she would awake before dawn, screaming, drenched in sweat and filthy with her own mess. It had happened before. Keshik had been there and comforted her, but she had never told him what had so tormented her.

He had saved her from it. He had brought her back. He must never know. She had to escape these grim Agents and return to Leserlang, to save Keshik as he had saved her. Maida lay back on the hard ground and stared up at the underside of the wagon that had become her prison cell. She reminded herself of her life since Keshik had ridden out of the snow like some avenging fiend to save her life from the Tulugma attackers. Above her, the Sisters moved towards each other, inexorably bringing in a new Crossing.

 

Dawn found her still awake, still staring up at the wagon's underside, still thinking about Keshik. Her tears had dried and the fears had subsided, but she was exhausted and angry. Angry that these Agents had taken her, angry that Keshik was somewhere
back in Leserlang alone, and angry that she had once again succumbed to weakness. When Atl came to unchain her she was just tired and angry enough to try something.

She watched as he squatted by her ankle and reached for the lock. It gave a heavy clunk as he turned the key and she lashed at his face with her other foot. It connected hard with his jaw and sent him toppling backwards, momentarily stunned. Maida sprang forward and grabbed his sword and dagger before he could recover, then sprinted across the camp. She made it to a horse before anyone raised the alarm.

The horse was well trained and would not move, no matter how much she urged it on. She kicked at its flanks with her heels, whipped at it with her hands, but it simply stood awaiting its rider's instructions.

‘Ice and wind,' Maida shouted. She swung her leg over the horse and jumped off. Men were running at her from all directions. Maida looked around quickly — the only way out was back into the bushes again. There was no choice; she turned and ran headlong into the hedge.

The branches tore at her, ripping her clothes and leaving a fine tracery of bloody scratches over every part of exposed skin. She pushed herself hard into the dense bushes as the Agents shouted at her. When she was far enough in, she dropped to the ground, to the more open area underneath. Once down on the ground, she changed direction and scurried as fast as she could diagonally away from the camp.

The shouts of the Agents died at a bellowed order from Huitzilin. In the sudden silence, Maida felt a chill. Something was happening, something unnatural. A low hum came to her ears, really more of a buzz. It was annoying, like an insect. She tried to bat it away, but it was insistent. Maida put her head down and continued her flight. No sounds of pursuit came after her as she drove herself along the ground.

The heat built up as she scrambled along. She was sweating heavily under her northern clothes and the dust was filling her nostrils. The blood from a multitude of cuts trickled down her face and arms, eventually slowing as the dust clogged its flow. Insects landed on her, adding to the buzzing in her ears as well as biting her. Finally, she saw the hedge coming to an end ahead of her. She quickened her pace slightly and broke out into the sun.

‘Look what the spurre dragged in,' a voice said. Maida looked up to see the booted feet of four Agents.

‘How did you …' she started.

‘Didn't I tell you I studied at Leserlang as a Reader?' Huitzilin interrupted.

Maida rolled over and sat up, crossing her legs as she stared at the Agent. ‘No, you didn't,' she said.

‘Would you stop trying to run away?' Huitzilin asked. ‘You know I will always find you.'

‘No,' Maida said.

‘The Queen will get what she wants — you should accept this. I will take you to her, if I have to take you in chains the whole way.'

‘Might as well chain me now, because I will not go willingly.'

‘As you wish,' Huitzilin said. He gave a nod to one of the Agents who lifted a chain that ended at either end with shackles. ‘You know what to do,' Huitzilin told him.

Maida spat at the Agent as he approached, but he ignored her and snapped the locks on her ankles. He wiped the spittle from his face as he rose and gave her a smile.

‘Enjoy,' he said.

She spat again, but missed.

‘Your choice, Red,' Huitzilin told her. He began to walk away, but paused and gave her a strange half-smile. ‘And while we are talking, you might want to finally tell me your name.'

Maida shook her head.

Huitzilin shrugged. ‘Fine, have it your way, Red.' He looked up at the sky. ‘Time to head south,' he ordered.