fate's pawn 25

 

Chapter 25

 

“Hey, Kaz! Your boyfriend has only gone and cleared out a lot of the earth!” called Lelyn.

Kaz, waking up alone, and burying the regret at that, went to see.

The earth between the two circles had vanished. So had the tree in the commandant’s quarters. It was planted outside, guarding the rubble pile which was the secret way in.

The central court was cleared as well, but the front gate appeared to be well buried. Which was, thought Kaz, just as well for now.

She started tidying up, and Lelyn, Svargia, and Rynn helped out, Lelyn chuckling over Kaz’s obsession with neat and tidy.

“Right is right,” said Kaz. “How can we serve truth is you can’t see it for crud?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, before,” said Lelyn. “I suppose getting all dead souls properly aligned is a kind of tidying up, too.”

“And the undead are untidy and interfere with Death’s accounting,” said Kaz.

“It’s like keeping the numbers straight in your accounts book, I guess,” said Evgon. “I thought I’d come and help. Protasion is deep in his engineering treatise, and Kuros is doing things to walls that can be shored up a bit, and Harkon is checking out the rest of the basement.”

“Are we hoping to re-occupy the whole city?” asked Lelyn.

“I don’t see why not,” said Kaz. “Eventually. I need to carve a grave marker for Zon and place his body under it; he wants to be buried at the top of the cliff overlooking things because it’s pretty, and also, he can find his grave marker to be a lookout here for us, if we inscribe it with prayers and ritual.”

“I’m glad his spirit is with you,” said Rynn.

Evgon made a face.

“Graveyards are gloomy,” he said.

“How can you say so? They are places of joy,” said Kaz.

“What?” Evgon stared.

“They are places for people who are cared about enough by other people that they want to set up a memorial; how much more joyful is it than to think someone loves you enough to want to do so?” said Kaz. “How sad to be someone whose death is not mourned by someone.”

“I hadn’t looked at it like that,” said Evgon. “Oh, Kaz, I don’t fear dying any more, because now we’ve met Alethos we can love him as a person not just in an abstract way as a god,” said Evgon. “Protasion, Kuros, and I discussed it.”

“And Protasion was long-winded about it,” sniggered Kaz.

“When is he not?” said Evgon. “But he was sincere.”

“He – like all of you – is a good man,” said Kaz. “It should not make a difference, but it does, doesn’t it?  We do not, in death, go to a god who barely knows of our existence, but to someone who is a member of our close-knit family.”

“You can’t…,” began Lelyn, and frowned. “Actually, you can, because he is your family.”

“And yours; because you are all my sisters and brothers,” said Kaz.

 

 

They buried Zon by the stream at the top of the cliff, with some help from Protasion making a sling to add to Kuros’s rope work.

Alethos joined them as they sang a song of blessing, to ensure that, even as a lay member, nobody could use Zon’s body as a zombie or skeleton.

He held out his arms for them all. They were all young people and had done well to go through a time of some shock and trauma. Gladly they accepted his affectionate embrace.

“I love you all well,” he said. “My Kaz; Harkon, my spokesman; Lelyn, Svargia, Rynn, Protasion, Kuros, Evgon.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are deeply honoured to have had a more personal relationship with you than is usual, which has inured us from the natural fear of dying with which one grows up,” said Protasion.

Alethos ruffled his hair.

“My pompous one,” he said, affectionately.

Protasion blushed, but grinned.

“Do you want us to stay here and man the temple?” asked Harkon.

“No, there are plenty of people who are ready to travel and be staff who are adequate defenders but who could not cope with adventuring the way you do,” said Alethos. “I suggest you visit regularly and explore, but I want you able to go off and do things... like rescuing trógling.... and making yourselves as good as you can be.” He looked around. “The seasons turn; summer is coming to an end, and it will be as well to be back in the city before the autumnal gales and rains. You have plenty of time, but at this altitude, there will be the first fungi as Mycota is released from the durance of Tor for her brief time above ground.”

“Perhaps, one day, we can rescue her,” said Kaz.

“Perhaps, now the desire to deny her to the surface is the only thing that motivates Tor, not the love, or lust, that made him seize her in the first place,” said Alethos, soberly.

“Did he seize her, or did she go willingly?” asked Kaz, a little timidly. “He is a god, and his presence must be overwhelming if he wills it.”

“But she is a goddess, albeit minor, and used to such. I have always believed that he seized her. If she was with him willingly, surely she could also come and go willingly?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” said Kaz, nodding. “He sets watchers, too; for Toróg, gathering fungi is almost a ritual, and a treat, for the fungi from fungus caverns are never as tasty as those that grow under the sky. And the fungus gatherers are watched by warriors of Tor. But I fancy they are also there in case Mycota tries to use concentrations of fungi to aid her retreat.”

“Did you learn which fungi are edible?” asked Protasion. “Because, if so, if we may return in a leisurely fashion, we could pick some to dry for use in winter stews.”

“What a good idea,” said Kaz. “You don’t know what you have let yourself in for; for trógling, fungi hunting is the opportunity for extra food, and I know how to cook them, too... at least, to the tastes of the Toróg.”

 

Harkon smiled on the way back at the happy young people collecting fungi, with Kaz and Rynn telling them which were edible. He almost made a comment about being in charge of a trógling walking party, until he recalled with a sudden pang that he had almost made such a jocular comment over the cheeky and insouciant Zon. The boy’s spirit still made cheeky comments, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Harkon was beginning to share Kaz’s views on adventurers.

The Temple of the Sun was willing to sell some eggs; they kept chickens in magically-lit barns in the winter, which meant their chickens laid eggs all year round. It fuelled the jokes about Solos’ Imperial Chicken, since the sacred beast of the cult was the majestic mountain golden eagle, large enough to carry a man.

Nobody made jokes, however, and Kaz produced mushroom omelettes which had the boys groaning with sheer happiness.

It was noticeable that summer was passing, it was distinctly chilly at night, and the party were glad to huddle up together in the shelters they built; and those on watch laid turfs on top of the camp fire, so as not to destroy their night sight with the flames, but to keep a source of warmth which could be uncovered and brought readily to flame again.

The Blood Moon had waxed, and everyone was very much aware that Lycoids were more active and more dangerous with the full power of the chaotic goddess. A few wolf howls in the distance were all that the travellers had to worry about, on the way back to Sideropolis.

“There’s something unnatural about a city where there aren’t brawls and hue and cry,” complained Kuros.

“I call it nicely ordered,” said Kaz. “You’re only sore that it’s not under the aegis of Alethos doing the law and order.”

“I hadn’t thought it through, but you’re right,” said Kuros. “I’m used to the Spears of Pollonis expecting us to be backup to them, as martial branch of the Solosian Pantheon. Where everyone is trained, I feel left out.”

“Superfluous to requirement in not being a designated protector,” said Kaz.

“Yes, but with shorter words,” said Kuros.

“Which would you rather be, a city protector, or ready to take initiation vows?” asked Kaz.

“Oh, good point, actually,” said Kuros.

They took barge down river, which was a lot faster than going upriver, and no need to stop for traffic going upriver, as the tow paths were on opposite sides, and the tow-horses no more than brakes and guidance for the heavy barges filled with metals and cut stones.

 

oOoOo

 

 

“Report!” barked Pythas.

“We went there, giving the ghosts of the ghostlands to Alethos and incidentally marking out and setting up a temple where we did so, went to find the temple, killed the undead, came away, were attacked by adventurers, killed them, came home,” said Kaz.

Pythas glared.

“Harkon, I have, in the past, complained about your bald reports. They are works of literature in comparison to the Chosen of Alethos,” he said.

“It’s essentially what happened,” said Harkon. “Kaz came up with an idea to offer the ghosts a place to belong, Alethos opened a pathway for them, and most of them filed through, happy as the day is long to have somewhere to go at long last. We enjoyed a pretty walk, through late summer... is that too literary?”

“Yes,” said Pythas.

“We collected pine resin to make torches on the way, as extra defences against undead, and when we got there, the Trógling went up the cliffs at the side of the valley to use their abilities to hear stone to map out the whole city. There’s a lot there to explore, and I thought you might want to keep the master map as a cult secret for now.”

“Yes, good work, and good thinking,” said Pythas.

“Kaz,” shrugged Harkon. “Anyway, there was a bloodsucker as well as skeletons and zombies, with living minions, whom he sent out to attack us. We put them down, and made sure they stayed put down by staking them and cutting their heads off. Then we went into the temple, and Kaz discommoded the bloodsucker by the use of laundry spells. You never saw anything so funny when his cloak was neatly folding up with him in it,” he added. “I dealt with him; Kaz wrestled with the spirit he had replaced our own guardian spirit with, and broke apart the glyphs and runework, rendering it no longer inimical, and the others fought sundry skeletons and zombies. We re-consecrated the temple, cleaned it up a bit, hid the way in, and Alethos took a hand in shifting a heap of dirt. Then the adventurers arrived with intent of looting, and with removing anything we had taken too. They attacked. We lost Zon, as you know.”

“He was protecting me,” said Kaz. “Now, at least, I can protect his spirit by keeping it by me.”

“He is honoured on the rolls,” said Pythas.

“We brought scrolls,” said Harkon. “One of them appears to be prophesies, as I recognise one, though it is put differently. All I remember is, ‘When the night-born chooses the light of truth and death, look ye for the portents. It will begin with the Healing of the Wound of Shame, and will tie the Beloved to Death. Look for those who were bound to be freed, those who suffer to be liberated, those despised to be loved, and look then for the terrible vengeance of the Wronged on those who will bring disaster on us all. Those of the gods who are able will gain power when the judge of the three fools brings wisdom, and she who embraces his wisdom will gain in many ways. She who weeps in the dark will find freedom forever if the brave can break the curse that holds her.’ I am sure there are those who can read it and make more sense of it.”

“Clear as mud, like most prophesies,” said Pythas. “I’ll have it translated, anyway. You lot are owed some leave. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Sir!” said Protasion, sounding injured.

“We won’t do anything you would not have done at the same age,” said Koros.

“We all grew up quite a lot,” said Lelyn, softly. “But we now know that we can face down horrors like the undead.”