Fate's Pawn 18

 

Chapter 18

 

Outside the city, the dark earth was rich. Small farmsteads clung to the city walls like children to the skirts of their mother, taking advantage of the good farmland, but extending no further than a mile from the city walls, even if some fields straggled over the line. The farmers stopped work to stare at them, and some made the sign to ward off evil. Some spat in the soil. Some just turned away.

“What have they got against us?” asked Protasion.

“We’re going into dangerous places, so we must be dangerous people,” said Harkon.

“Hardly fair,” said Protasion.

“Since when has being fair been in any wise the province of the average person?” said Harkon, amused.

“Good point,” said Protasion.

“The ghosts come this close?” asked Kaz, frowning. “I thought you said they were further away.”

“No, but the farmers won’t tempt fate,” said Harkon. “Honestly, the line is closer to the mountains by a long way. There’s a ridge across the land, which is where the whole mountainside slipped down and flowed like water, by such accounts as I have read. It sounds incredible, but then, it was the coming of chaos, and for earth to behave like water, and air like fire sounds chaotic to me.” He shrugged. “The ghosts aren’t too bad. I’ve seen worse in these regions. There’s the site of a city; it sank below the earth, they say, and when you are on top of it, it’s as though thousands of voices cry out in fear, and are suddenly stilled. Over, and over, and over again. Not somewhere I’d like to spend a night, though the voices cannot harm you, and no spirits attack. It’s just uncanny.”

“Why haven’t the ghosts gone to their gods?” asked Lelyn. “Surely when they died, they would go to the place of waiting to be sorted by Death.”

“I don’t know,” said Harkon. “Too shocked to go when the death-urge should have dragged them to the place of waiting? It’s said that sometimes when a soul is severed from its body unexpectedly, the soul is disoriented, and fails to recognise death for a while. The spirits in the Ghostlands were fleeing danger, and all engulfed at once are still seeking a way to freedom, without taking the obvious choice of prayer to their own gods. But then, there is some suggestion that the reason the Wolf of Chaos was able to come and rape Luna in the first place was because the gods had weakened, because many people gave no more than lip service to them, pleased with their own efforts in making their wealth, and unwilling to give credit to the gods. If so, they had no god to whom to pray.”

“The easterners claim what they call ‘rationality’ and deny the gods,” said Protasion. “Their version of events is that a wandering body in the skies struck the Blue Moon, breaking it in two, to make a secondary, Red Moon.”

There were gasps of horror.

“They cannot have souls, to think like that!” gasped Lelyn.

“Oh, they have souls, but they don’t know how to use them,” said Protasion. “They consider magic to be a means of manipulating the energy of the universe, but of course, they will never have God Magic.”

“Just as well; such beliefs are dangerous,” said Harkon. “But it’s their loss.”

“Can’t we pray to Alethos to give them relief from their sufferings in taking them?” said Kaz.

“I don’t know,” said Harkon. “I suppose I never thought of it; and there are so many.”

“We should construct a huge death-rune in the middle of the region, and pray there,” said Kaz. “If we dig away the grass, it will reveal the earth beneath which can be seen from above; and if we pray, then Alethos will be with us to extend his invitation to them.”

“It is worth it, even if only some take the invitation for peace,” said Harkon.

They trudged on until Harkon called a halt.

“It is getting hot; we should rest,” he said. A spinney provided poles to set up the canvas under which to rest in shade, using such shade, too, as the spinney itself afforded. Harkon took first watch to let the younger members of his party sleep, then wakened Kaz and Protasion to take an hour’s sleep himself. The hour turned into two, but Harkon was much rested for it. Kaz and Protasion might sit to watch over their fellows, for the traffic on this road was but little. Any iron from the Anvil came down the upper Red River; this road was basically used only by those seeking to try themselves in the lost lands in the mountains.

“You should have wakened me before,” said Harkon.

“You were sleeping deeply and peacefully, and it was a judgement call to make sure you were fresh,” said Kaz.

Harkon conceded the point.

They ate before moving on, the greyish line marking the true edge of the ghostlands coming closer, and becoming clearer.

“I’d like to get into the ghostlands before we lose light from the sky,” said Harkon. “That way, we can get out again, if you cannot take it.”

“We worship a god of death; the dead are not to be feared,” said Kaz.

Harkon halted at the base of the cliff. The path they had taken rose up it, the way worn down to be easier by the feet of countless adventurers and explorers, treasure-hunters and the like.

“Let us pray,” said Harkon.

This they did, gladly, putting forward any secret fears in their own hearts, or pledging to aid the ghosts, with their god’s aid.

And then, Harkon went before them, over the rocky scramble, and Kaz’s eyes widened as they descended into what she could only describe as an insubstantial crowd, filled with cries and moans, sobs, and what were almost, but not quite, prayers.

“How far does this extend?” asked Kaz.

“Another twenty or thirty miles, into the foothills,” said Harkon.

“Were there so many people living here?” wondered Protasion.

“The road was packed with refugees. They were fleeing the heaving mountains,” said Harkon. “If you move away from the road, there are fewer.”

“Then we should move off the road to camp, if need be,” said Protasion.

“I was planning on so doing,” said Harkon.

“We need to be at the heart of the throng,” said Kaz.

“It will bring us into darkness,” warned Harkon. “And without much light from the moon.”

“So long as we can see to dig out a death glyph, we need no more,” said Kaz. “I know what to do. We make a death glyph on the ground, and we each bleed a drop of blood into each of its ends, and where the side pieces meet the main upright. Then you plant your iron sword there and pray to Alethos, and those ghosts who want peace can flow through the sword into the earth and directly to the underworld, where Alethos will open up a way.”

“How do you know this?” asked Harkon.

“I suppose Alethos told me,” said Kaz. “I just know.”

“I’ll not argue with the Daywalker, as the seeress named you,” said Harkon. “I heard the chime.”

“Me too,” said Kaz. “Fate is really very noisy.” She absently brushed away a ghost, gibbering at her. “So are these poor souls.”

“Four hours march should see us near the centre,” said Harkon. “Three if you can keep up a good pace.”

“Come with us, ye spirits, for we seek to give you rest,” called Kaz.

The spirits flickered; wavered; and started to fall in behind Kaz, following her. It made for a strange procession, and several of Kaz’s companions shivered. Indeed, the presence of the ghosts made the atmosphere distinctly chilly, and the shivering was not entirely in fear, but also from cold.

“As if going through them milling about aimlessly wasn’t bad enough, having them line up and follow us is not what I’d have asked for, given a choice,” muttered Svargia, pulling her cloak tightly about her. “I do not like this one bit.”

“They will not harm you, my friend,” said Kaz. “We bring them hope.”

There was, indeed, a strange atmosphere of, if not jollity, at least an air of cautious eagerness to those who followed. Kaz turned to smile into the vacant, filmy eyes of a small girl.

“Soon, little one,” she said. Alone of her companions she seemed not to notice the cold, but had a fey light in her eyes as if looking at their strange travelling companions from, as Protasion later described it, both far away, and yet inside and under their skins. Lelyn looked on her friend, and was glad of a hand that Kaz reached out to grasp hers; for she saw on Kaz’s face the instrument of Alethos. But Kaz was also still Kaz.

 

The light went slowly from the sky, the sun sinking before them, dragging all light and colour with him, save for the vivid hues of the skirts of Dysis, goddess of sunset, as she followed her father into the underworld for the night. And still the ghosts came on. Dysis herself was followed by Astros, the dusk, her own son, bringing the strange, blue-grey which is neither light nor darkness after sunset, adorned by the Evening Star, Hespa. And the ghosts came on. Polaros, the north star, stood above them to their right, and then as Astros crept almost unnoticed into darkest shadow, the faint red glow of the waning blood moon made the ghosts shiver in fear. But still they came on.

“She cannot take you if you are pledged to Death,” said Kaz. “He is god of Death before he is god of war, and though warriors sup at his own table, he has also peaceful lands for those who belong to nobody else. Pray to Alethos, and let him feel your supplication as we set up a means for him to aid you to freedom.”

There was a moan through the ranks of the ghosts, and as the pitiful sickle of the blue moon struggled into the sky, competing with the depleted blood moon, still they came on.

And Harkon called a halt; he and Protasion marked out a glyph using twine pegged to the ground with carven sticks, to show where to dig, and though they were tired, the travellers fell to using the spades with a will, taking turns to dig and to rest. Zon was shivering in terror, but he took his turn like anyone else. And then the Alethosi slit open their palms and dripped one drop of blood into each of the four ends of the glyph, and into the centre; and Harkon plunged his sword into the centre.

And the glyph lit up as if with blue fire.

The younger Alethosi knelt as Harkon, himself now knowing what to do, stood by his sword, Kaz kneeling the other side of it.

“The way to worship is thus,” said Harkon. “Place two fingers to your forehead, and then to your heart, and present your hand outstretched, saying, ‘Take my sacrifice of worship, Lord Alethos, Lord of Death and Truth.’ And when you have done so, you may pass down the way.”

Magic hung in the air; the sacrifice of worship heady in its intensity, such as Harkon had rarely felt. So many souls! And where his sword stood, now there was a pathway, a road directly to the underworld, which should be a pit, but somehow twisted to be a way to travel.

And past Kaz the streaming thong of spirits flowed down that pathway.

It took hours.

The light of dawn touched the sky before the last ghost had fled these cursed plains, the little girl Kaz had spoken to, who was joined now by parents. She looked up at Kaz, who stumbled to her feet, and started to follow.

A large, armoured figure blocked her way.

“It is not your time, yet, dear one; but I will permit you to use this path another time to quest, if you need to.”

“I am sorry, Alethos. I was caught up in emotion.”

“I know. But now, you have much to do.”

Kaz fell back to her knees, weeping; not even sure why she was weeping. And Harkon too collapsed, exhausted.

It was as well, perhaps, that the party lay in a most unconventional temple, hidden to the eyes of others, for they slept where they fell until the sun’s zenith woke them with its intensity.

Harkon woke, and sat up. He had the sort of headache which usually requires a day’s round of dedicated drinking to achieve; and his sword was back in its scabbard. A stone stood where once his sword had acted as a channel, with the glyphs of death and truth on it, and the death glyph cut into the earth was still limned with a flicker of blue light.

“We need to build a proper temple here,” said Kaz, knuckling her eyes.

“Yes,” said Harkon. “There is, at least, plenty of stone around, but we shall need a cart, which will need to be taken apart to get it over the barrier mound.”

“Leave it to Evgon, he’s good at that sort of thing,” said Kaz.

“Was that real, or was it a dream?” asked Svargia.

“What is a dream but a different perception of reality?” asked Kaz.

“Now that sounds like the sort of thing The Riddler would say,” grumbled Svargia, using a soubriquet which avoided naming Daze outright.

“Wash your mouth out,” said Kaz. “When I have dreams I can remember, they have usually had Alethos in them; I expect we can’t cope with his presence with fully aware souls.”

“We worshipped, and slipped into the fugue state of touching the god-plane which is usually the province of initates and above, but is experienced by the most devout lay members,” said Harkon. “In doing so, we aided Alethos to take those souls to him.”

“We have all been through the sort of profound experience it is rarely given to anyone to be a part of,” said Protasion, with deep reverence. “We have been blessed to be a part of this quest, and this is the start of the mending of the damage wrought by chaos.”

They all heard the chime of fate at these words.

“There will be no question but that you will all initiate on our return, I think,” said Harkon. “I felt the power of Alethos in me; and I know that I am now his priest as well as his lord, geased to fast on holy days to help me return to the holy state we reached, and be ready for his instructions. And I know I will also now be able to sense undead without difficulty, for I have been gifted.”

He lifted his vambrace and short sleeve, to see that next to the glyph of control that he had as a glyph-lord, there was also the glyph of magic, stamped into his skin in fine, silvery lines almost like a scar.

The others saluted him, in awe. And then Kaz hugged him, and so did the other girls, and the lads shook his hand.

“I don’t want to spoil the mood, but the ghosts haven’t all gone,” said Rynn.

“Those who were afraid to go are doomed to wander forever until they dare to ask,” said Harkon. He drank deeply from his water canteen, and felt better.

A spring bubbled up just to the west of the dug glyph, forming a bubbling pool, and flowing back down into the earth.

“That’s new,” said Svargia.

“Our lord has gifted us,” said Kaz, kneeling to scoop up fresh spring water to drink, and then to wash off the streaks of tears from her face.

“You’re supposed to be wary of water until tested,” said Svargia.

“Why? It’s from Alethos,” said Kaz.

Svargia could hardly argue with that.