A Season of Rendings Page 8

  Lyseira pulled her brother's shirt open and inspected his side.

  "It's a'fin," Seth said. "It's not deep." Lyseira ignored him and prayed, her words like fire in the dimness, and the wound closed.

  Beard gasped, his eyes widening. "Cleric," he wheezed. His hands fumbled at the spear still jutting from his stomach. At the sight of him, Lyseira blanched and covered her mouth.

  "What happened?" Angbar said. "Who are these people?" He looked back up the passage, trying to make sense of the scene. "They attacked us?"

  "Bandits," Seth said. "And rapists."

  Lyseira started toward Beard, a look of torn horror on her face. But if she healed him, what would they do with him? Let him go? They couldn't risk bringing him to the guards—there would be too many questions, and they were fugitives already. We can't just let him bleed out, Iggy thought.

  Can we?

  "Please." Beard locked his gaze on Lyseira. Blood bubbled at his lips as he nodded toward the roan's saddlebags. "I can . . . pay."

  Lyseira's eyes shot to the bags. She halted.

  "Please."

  "How much do you have?" she said.

  "Take it all," he sputtered. A thin whistling noise snaked through the words.

  "Tell me," she insisted. "How much do you have?"

  "I don't know. Everyone . . ." He gasped. Wheezed. "Everyone paid. Fifty shells?"

  "No," Lyseira said. "How much is yours? How much actually belongs to you? Do you have anything you didn't steal?"

  "I―" He coughed; the agony of it made him howl. "I don't . . ."

  "If Akir brings you back to your feet, how many more people will you rob? Or rape, or murder?"

  Iggy knew what she was thinking. It was plain in her eyes. She had risked her life—all their lives—to save Marlin, a sorcerer who had nearly been burned to death in Keldale, and he had betrayed them with mere thievery. If she now saved this man, and he hurt someone else . . .

  "None," he swore. "Never." Bewilderment danced like fever in his eyes. "I can pay."

  Lyseira watched him, quivering. A tear slid down her cheek. She stalked to the saddlebags, found the one with the coin, and cut it loose.

  Then she turned away.

  "What―?" Beard's voice was barely a whisper now. "Where . . . ?"

  "I'm going to return the money you stole."

  "Lyseira." Helix was aghast. He had pulled his sword during the fight, but had never gotten to use it; now it hung limp from his hands as if he'd forgotten it was there. "You can't just let him die."

  "There may be others he hurt on the way here. Maybe they're dying right now, too. Let him wait."

  I could do it, Iggy realized. I could save him. He had healed a bear hurt by a trap, six months and a thousand years ago, in the woods outside of Southlight. He could probably do it again.

  And risk discovery, the endless questions, becoming just as hunted as everyone else, for the chance that this raping piece of sehk has a change of heart?

  "Hang on," he called after Lyseira. "I'll come with you."

  iii. Angbar

  A memory of the man slowly bleeding to death, his wheezing cries echoing behind them as they moved deeper into the pass, haunted Angbar's dreams that night and crouched in every shadow the next day. Yes, he had seen murder since they'd left Southlight—much of it in Keldale, when Harth had killed more than one soldier to clear the way for their escape. But that had been in the heat of battle, against hopeless odds, and they had always moved on before Angbar could watch anyone bleed out. This was different. He believed Seth when he said that the man was a bandit, that he would have kidnapped or killed them if Seth hadn't gotten to him first, but these facts were irrelevant in his nightmares.

  There, only the dying man's pleas mattered; there, complicity made them all as bad as Bishop Marcus.

  "Don't be an idiot," Seth said the next night as Helix whispered a similar concern around the campfire. "Matthew was innocent—of rape or theft, anyway. That man was a killer. I saved your life."

  "I'm not saying you didn't," Helix whispered back. "I just . . . is that what we are now? Is that how . . . is it our first resort?"

  "I evaluate threats," Seth returned flatly, "then do what I need to do. You can do the same."

  "Yeah. Well, maybe I don't think murder should be the first choice."

  "You were asleep," Iggy put in. "All of you were. We were the only two up, and we were outnumbered―" He glanced at Seth. "What? Eight to one?"

  "I don't need to justify my decisions to you," Seth said, "but I didn't just 'choose murder.' If the man had been alone, I would've disarmed him, maybe broken his leg. He wasn't. He had fifteen friends. They needed their ranks broken."

  His words made sense, but the matter-of-fact way he delivered them—as if he were talking about the best method for picking apples—left Angbar chilled.

  "And even then," Seth went on, "if their mounts hadn't spooked out of the blue, we still would've probably died."

  "That was lucky," Iggy agreed, "but it worked out." After the fight he had calmed the horses and—in that way he had—transitioned easily into being the seven animals' new owner. One for each of us, Angbar thought, plus an extra to carry the packs. On top of that, a number of travelers had paid Lyseira a handful of heels in gratitude for returning their money. Some had even given her a full shell. Iggy had insisted on using part of the reward money on oats for the animals.

  "That's what I mean," Helix pressed. "If they hadn't―"

  Seth cut in. "If they hadn't we'd be dead. That's exactly what I said. That still doesn't make the spear the wrong opening."

  Helix glanced around the fire at each of them, searching for support. Syntal sat outside the group, her face buried in her books. She'd been even more withdrawn than usual all day. If she even heard the conversation, she gave no sign. By contrast, Lyseira stared at the ground, her hair a shroud around her face. She was clearly troubled, but wouldn't meet Helix's eyes.

  Angbar decided he would. I hear you, he thought, willing his friend to understand. I swear. But what can we do?

  Lyseira surprised him by echoing his thoughts aloud. "I understand, Helix," she said. "I do. I―" She shook her head. "I could have healed him, if I'd wanted to. But is that what Akir wanted? Is that why He gave me this power? I just . . ." She trailed off, staring into the campfire. "That man hadn't hurt anyone else who actually needed my help, but what if he had? What if they had died, while I wasted time tending to him? Or what if I had helped him, and he had turned around and―" She snapped the words off, killing the thought before she could utter it.

  "That's not the same, Lyseira," Helix said, not ungently. "You didn't―"

  "But it is the same. Seth might've stabbed him, but Seth himself got stuck in the ribs, and didn't die. You"—she pointed at Iggy—"would've died in Keldale. The only violent deaths that happen around me now are the ones I approve." She swallowed, looking sick. "And I approved."

  Angbar realized he had been holding his breath, and slowly let it out. Lyseira's argument was compelling. What if she'd healed their attacker, only to have him follow them and get revenge later? But her words didn't disturb him the same way Seth's did. Why? Was it Seth's nonchalance about the whole thing, his unwillingness to recognize another point of view? Or was it that the act of intervention—whether it was stabbing or healing—had a higher moral bar to clear, simply because doing nothing should always be the baseline test?

  His mind did something it hadn't done in months: it began shuffling these ideas into a story, overlaying them on fictional characters and a fictional scenario that he could later write into a book. He had done the same thing automatically several times last year, while they'd been on the run, until the process had begun to horrify and nauseate him.

  This isn't a story! he wanted to scream at himself. This is real! A man is dead!

  They weren't even out of the Valley yet, and he already felt like he was suffocating.

  6

  i. Angbar

&
nbsp; They finally emerged from the Black Pass at midday, to a clear sky and a blazing sun. Angbar felt the weight of the place drop away like a ten-ton pack. Nearly two full days in darkness, he reflected. Next time, I think I'd rather get caught by the Tribunal.

  He sighed, trying to put the memory of the ghastly place behind him. At least I finally get to see the other side of the Tears. Like his friends, he'd spent his entire life in Southlight, or at least as much of it as he could remember. He hadn't actually been born there—his parents had left Bahir when he was three, though they'd never told him why—but still, Southlight was the only home he'd ever known. More than once, he'd felt a pang of wanderlust, a longing to see the world beyond the Valley.

  It didn't make a great first impression.

  The road out of the pass dribbled down the hillside like an afterthought, falling quickly to gravel. The city it led to, Feldra, had none of the pomp or grandeur of Shientel. Along the short descent, a slightly crooked inn seemed to be running a brisk business; beyond, the city was mostly flat, the houses squat and drab.

  Well. There had to be more beyond the Tears than just Feldra. And honestly, he found the inn alone an exciting prospect.

  Let's stay a night, he thought to say. We can spend a bit of that reward money. Surely it'd be worth it. He let himself imagine cotton-stuffed pillows and feather beds, a hot meal and a hotter bath.

  One look at the others' faces told him the effort would be hopeless. Helix again had the look of a hunted dog, mingled now with the familiar disquiet that had been there since Lyseira had refused healing to the dying bandit. The others were equally grim. Silence had been the norm since their campfire conversation, hanging in the air like a miasma.

  "Hey, there," Iggy called as they passed the inn's stable. An older man, midway through tacking up his horse, glanced back. "Can you tell me how far to Tal'aden?"

  The man turned to face them. "Pilgrims already?" Angbar felt a flash of recognition. Pilgrims? It was the same thing the guard at the gates of Keldale had said, last autumn. "You do know the blesséd book won't even be there 'til Summermorn?"

  "Better early than late," Lyseira jumped in.

  The man shook his head. "You really plan to camp the square for months? The snow's barely melted!"

  "We have some other business to attend to on the way," Lyseira said, "but we've just never been north of the Tears, and it'll take time to get there."

  "Well, you're playing it safe enough, that's for certain." The man tightened the belt on his saddle. "Few hundred miles northwest as the crow flies, but the road wanders a bit. Head north out of town toward Dyrton, that'll be your shortest route."

  "There a lot of travelers on that road?" Helix asked.

  "Well, sure, most of the traffic for Shientel takes that way. You could cut west, I suppose, through Shepherd's Hill—they don't do a lot of trade that way, so there's fewer people. On horseback you'd get to the town before highsun tomorrow, but it'll be longer to Tal'aden overall." He shrugged. "I suppose it depends on where your business is."

  Lyseira looked confused, as if she didn't remember the lie she'd told twenty seconds ago. Kirith a'jhul, she's bad at this, Angbar thought. "Thanks!" he said, steering the others away before the man became suspicious.

  "Second Joshua!" Lyseira exclaimed as they left the inn behind, then lowered her voice when Angbar shushed her. "I'd forgotten all about it! 200 nights of purification at Basica Tenuor in Keldale, then it goes to Tal'aden to join the Holy Library! The Fatherlord holds—oh." Her face fell, suddenly turning serious.

  "What?" Angbar asked.

  "The Fatherlord holds a public audience as part of the ceremony. That's why he mentioned the pilgrims—people come from all over Darnoth for it. The Abbot used to tell me stories about it. The Fatherlord's been known to grant requests at the audience, even heal without a donation." She looked at Helix, then Syntal. "That could be my chance."

  "There'll be thousands of people there," Seth said. "A Dedication only happens once or twice in a lifetime. The whole city will be packed full. There's no guarantee―"

  "There's no guarantee either way," Lyseira interrupted. "He doesn't usually speak to commoners. You can't just walk in to Basica Sanctaria and ask to talk to Him!"

  Wasn't that your original plan? Angbar kept the thought to himself.

  "This is good news. Excellent news. I hadn't even thought of it." She glanced to the heavens and circled her heart. "He's looking out for us. We're on the right path."

  "We're barely into Shimmerfall," Seth said. "Summermorn is still two months away. We'll need supplies, a place to stay." He looked at Iggy. "We could sell half these horses and still have enough to carry us two to a mount. The money―"

  "No," Iggy said.

  "We won't survive two months in Tal'aden without―"

  "Not the horses," Iggy repeated. "They can . . . die," he continued vaguely, "on the road. There are thefts, attacks. Accidents happen. Better to keep backups with us."

  Seth looked at him like he'd gone mad. "Iggy, one of these animals would fetch enough coin to see us fed for . . ."

  He trailed off as Iggy pressed past him. The animals followed.

  They found the road to Shepherd's Hill nearly deserted, just as the man had said. The first sign of other travelers came only after hours of travel, shortly before sundown: the smoldering remains of a wagon.

  "Bandits?" Helix asked as Seth returned from investigating. He had dismounted and signaled the others to wait; now he waved them forward, though the scent of fire had their mounts spooked. The animals stayed back.

  "I don't know," Seth admitted. "Maybe, but why would they use fire if they wanted the travelers' things? And why burn everyone alive?" The wagon's wreckage was strewn all over the road, an explosion of blackened posts and wheel axles dotted with the grotesque remains of its drivers. The air stunk of burned flesh. Unbidden, Angbar thought of smoked lamb, and his stomach threatened to revolt.

  Iggy pressed his cloak over his nose and mouth. Angbar followed suit. Even Syntal seemed to finally be anchored in the here-and-now—her eyes shifted through the ruins with a look of panic, like she had woken to a living nightmare.

  "They ripped them apart," Lyseira managed, her voice thick with horror. "They—ah, mercy―" The smell overcame her. She turned and vomited into the scrub.

  Suddenly, Angbar wanted nothing more than to move past. He started walking. If he didn't, he knew he'd join Lyseira.

  As he rounded the ruin of the wagon, he saw the horse that had been leading it. Its broad neck had been torn most of the way from its body. Smoke still drifted from the ruined stump.

  Nausea slammed into him again, strong as a tidal wave. He looked away, fighting his gorge down until he finally trusted himself to speak. "Not bandits," he managed. "Look." Seth rounded the wagon and froze, his eyes unreadable as they locked on to the mangled horse corpse.

  "What in Hel did this?" Helix breathed as he joined them. "Bandits can't rip a horse's neck open!"

  "Are there mountain lions this far from the Tears?" Angbar knew the question was asinine, but his tongue asked it anyway.

  "Mountain lions?" Iggy threw back, incredulous.

  "Well you tell us, Iggy!" Angbar could hear the hysteria in his voice, curling upward like the first line of smoke from a forest fire, and it only made his heart pound harder. "Because, look! Look!"

  "I see it."

  Syntal took his shoulder, turned him away. "Don't look at it," she whispered. "It's a'fin."

  "It's not a'fin! Are you mad? Kirith a'jhul!" Helix's question echoed out of Angbar's mouth, tinged with panic. "What in Hel did this?" It was too much: first the man Seth butchered in the pass, and now a road full of scorched corpses, killed by—

  By—?

  He fought the rising frenzy in his chest, forced it back with gulping breaths as he tried to focus his eyes on a distant boulder.

  Calm down. You've seen worse than this. What is wrong with you?

  It's just a story. The h
eroes are traveling west, and they come across the leftovers of a dragon's meal. The dragon is sated. It's gone. It's a way to set the scene, to ratchet the tension. Nothing more.

  Calm down.

  "Wait." Iggy crossed to the horse's body, his eyes searching the dirt. "Tracks."

  "What?" Helix snapped his head up. "What are they?"

  "Where?" Seth joined Iggy. "Those?"

  "I don't know." Iggy knelt to get a closer look. "I've never seen . . . Sehk, they're huge."

  "Two claws in front, one in back?" Seth said.

  "Three in front. And they're more like talons." Iggy regained his feet, the color draining from his face. "I have no idea. I've never seen anything like this."

  "We should go back," Angbar said. "There was another route, yes? We should take that."

  "We need to warn Feldra." Lyseira looked ashen and shaky as she rejoined them. "Whatever did this―"

  Iggy was shaking his head. "Not Feldra. I think it went west.

  It's headed to Shepherd's Hill."

  ii. Iggy

  "Iggy." Seth's hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. "Third watch."

  He sat up, getting his bearings, his nose a knob of ice jammed onto the front of his face. The sky was cold and clear, and without a campfire, their only light came from a quarter moon and the starlight. Better to be cold, though, than to draw any attention.

  "I need to sleep tonight." Seth sounded like he was admitting to a lifelong ale addiction.

  "M'sai." Iggy gained his feet. "You're entitled."

  "If you hear anything—anything—wake me."

  Iggy knew from experience that Seth was as likely to wake on his own. "Sure."

  The younger man lay down on the rocky earth at the side of the road, eschewing pillow and blankets. Within seconds, his breathing evened into sleep.

  As he often had before, Iggy wondered what sort of training Seth must've received as a boy to become so disciplined. It's like they burned the humanity out of him. Especially considering how wild he was when he left.