A Triumph of Souls (16 page)

A plentitude of roads and wagon tracks led off in all directions from Doroune. By far the greatest number led north or south
to the other trading towns and farming
communities of the fertile coastal plain. A lesser selection offered access to the western horizon. Choosing the most direct,
the travelers soon found themselves clear of the city and its suburbs and among tillage of grain and vegetable. People working
in the fields would look up and wave, at least until they caught sight of Hunkapa Aub or the black litah. Unlike the worldly
citizens of sophisticated metropolises such as Hamacassar or Lybondai, the peoples living on this side of the Semordria were
of a far more insular nature.

So while they were cordial, they tended to keep their distance whenever the wagon pulled up outside an inn or tavern. Though
less openly friendly than the inhabitants of distant Netherbrae, they were at the same time more accepting of the ways of
others. Soon enough Ehomba and his companions began to receive warnings similar to those that had been voiced by the aged
guide in Doroune.

“You might as well turn back now.” The blacksmith who had agreed to perform a final check on their wagon spoke meaningfully
as he rose and knelt, rose and knelt while moving from one wheel to another.

“Why?” Ehomba shielded his eyes as he gazed westward, to where the track they were following vanished into looming hills densely
forested with ancient beech and oak, sycamore and elm. “My companions and I have crossed many high ranges, and this that lies
before us does not look either very high or very difficult to scale.”

“The Hexens?” The affable blacksmith moved to another wheel. “They’re not. Takes a while to get through them, but the road
goes all the way across. At least it did last I heard tell of it. Even a child could make the walk.”
The herdsman was openly puzzled. “Then what is the danger from these mountains?”

Taking a hammer and chisellike tool from his heavy work apron, their host began to bend back and tighten a bolt that was threatening
to work its way loose.

“From the mountains, none.” Looking up, he stared hard at the lean and curious visitor. “It’s what lives in the Hexens that
you have to watch out for. Deep in the inner valleys, where the fog lingers most all the day long and people never go.” He
shrugged and turned away. “Leastwise, those people that go in and come out again. What happens to the ones who go in and don’t
come out, well, a man can only guess.”

“Hoy, we’re not easily frightened,” Simna informed him. Nearby, Ahlitah was playing with the blacksmith’s brace of brown-and-white
kittens, having promised Ehomba not to eat any of them. They assaulted the big cat’s mane and tail while he batted gently
at them with paws that could bring down a full-grown buffalo with a single blow. “Go ahead and guess.”

The blacksmith paused in his work. “You really mean to do this, don’t you?”

Simna made a perfunctory gesture in the herdsman’s direction. “My friend has a fetish for the west. So that’s the way we go.
Would it be safer to head north or south and then turn inland toward our destination?”

The blacksmith considered. “I’m no voyager like you.” He indicated the sturdy house and shop set just back off the road. “Family
man. But settled here, at the foot of the Hexens, I meet many travelers. Go north and you’re liable to run into bad weather.
But south—head south and then turn west, and you’ll skirt the base of the mountains.” He
turned back to his work. “Of course, there are other dangers to be encountered when traveling in the south.”

“How long must we move south before we could turn west again and miss these mountains?” Ehomba was willing to consider reasonable
alternatives.

“A month, maybe two, depending on the condition of the roads and the weather. This time of year, traveling weather’s best
between Oos and Nine Harbors. That’s where you are right now, more or less.”

The herdsman nodded tersely. “Then we go west from here.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Simna’s sigh was muted. He knew his tall friend well enough by now to have put money on his response.
“You were going to tell us about the dangers we might run into in these Hexens.”

“It’s not a certain thing,” the pensive blacksmith replied. “Many people make the crossing and return safely to the coast.
For traders who do so, the rewards are considerable.”

“I can imagine, if so many folks are too scared to even attempt it. What happens to those who don’t make it back? Bandits?”
The swordsman was extrapolating from similar situations that existed on the borders of his own homeland.

The blacksmith was shaking his head. “Bandits people can deal with. Tolls can be met, bribes paid, ransoms raised. Highwaymen
would not discourage more people from traveling to the west. It is the Brotherhood of the Bone that terrifies would-be travelers
and keeps them at home.” Hitherto ringing, his voice had dropped to an edgy whisper.

“Do we have to ask what that might be?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The blacksmith’s tone remained subdued. “I can’t talk about it. Not openly, in front of others. You’re determined
to push on, so I’ll just wish you good luck.” He indicated the front of his shop, where Ahlitah was toying with the delighted
kittens and Hunkapa Aub lay half asleep, sitting up against one side of the entrance, his mouth open wide enough to reveal
a gap sufficiently commodious to accommodate both nest- and abode-hunting birds. “You are obviously knowledgeable wayfarers,
and you have powerful nonhuman friends of your own. With luck, you’ll make it. You might not have any trouble at all.” He
spread his hands wide and smiled regretfully. “Iron and steel I can forge for you, but not luck.”

“You said ‘nonhuman,’” Ehomba remarked. “Are the members of this Brotherhood of the Bone not human?”

“Some are, some ain’t. I hope you don’t have occasion to find out.” Rising, he replaced his tools in his apron and wiped his
hands. “Come inside for a cold drink and we’ll settle your bill.” His expression darkened ever so slightly. “You have money?”

Simna smirked knowingly. “Money enough. Before we left Doroune we took the time to cash a pebble.”

In the depths of the mountains it was difficult to remember the admonitions of blacksmith and guide, so congenial were the
surroundings. Though the splendid forest crowded the wagon track on both sides, it was not oppressive. Heavy broad-leaf litter
covered the ground, making a carpet for deer and elk, broad-shouldered sivatherium, and droopy-horned pelorovis. Squirrels
of many species foraged among the ground cover, methodically conveying found foods from the surface to their homes high up
in the
accommodating trees. Ehomba was particularly taken with one short-tailed gray-and-brown variety that built endless tiny ladders
to assist them in reaching the highest branches. Communities of these enterprising rodents traveled safely back and forth
between boles by means of tiny carts suspended from thin but strong ropes.

Rabbits scurried about in profusion, providing effortless hunting for Ahlitah and a welcome supplement to their purchased
provisions. Since no one had been able to tell them exactly how far it was to Ehl-Larimar, they availed themselves of every
opportunity to feast off the land. Stowed food was to be conserved, since it might prove vital to their well-being should
they encounter less-productive country.

Acorns and chestnuts could be easily gathered from beneath heavily laden boughs, and small rushing streams were everywhere.
Morning and evening mist kept the temperature on the chilly side, but to travelers who had successfully crossed the great
Hrugar Range hard by the base of Mount Scathe itself, the occasional discomfort was minor at most.

Birds in their colorful profusion nested in the forks of branches. Their darting songs echoed through the woods. One persistent
archeopteryx in particular kept attacking their provisions in hopes of stealing one of the smaller brightly wrapped packages
of food. When their attention was diverted it would dive-bomb the wagon, attacking with teeth and claws, until one of the
travelers shooed it away. Cawing huffily, it paralleled them for quite a ways, flapping awkwardly from tree to tree until
the next opportunity for avian larceny presented itself. Eventually it
gave up and fell behind. As poor a flyer as a hoatzin, it could not trail them forever.

After a number of days of easy, relatively comfortable travel interrupted only by the occasional need to get out and pull
or push the wagon where there was an absence of wind, Simna had begun to relax. It was a state of being that Hunkapa Aub never
exited and Ahlitah pursued with feline determination. Of the four travelers, only Ehomba remained on perpetual alert. This
situation the swordsman was content to live with.

Lying against the back of the wagon, hands behind his head, he looked up contentedly as his lanky friend adjusted the single
sail. Today’s breeze was not strong, but it blew steadily from the east, driving them through the narrow canyon they were
currently traversing.

“The people of this coast are really missing something by restricting their settlements to the flatlands east of these mountains.”
He waved a casual hand at the enclosing forested slopes. “This is wonderful country. Clean, bracing air, lots of small game,
no dangerous predators that we’ve encountered, fertile soil, and some of the best timber I’ve ever seen. There are trees in
here old and strong and big enough to supply lumber for a hundred thousand homes and ten thousand ships the size of the
Grömsketter
.”

Intent as ever, Ehomba was watching the forest slide past on either side of the track. Tugging on a line, he trimmed the wagon’s
single sail slightly. “It may be that this Brotherhood would object. Certainly if they harry individual travelers they would
rise up against any organized settlement. Perhaps that is why none exists.”

Simna waved diffidently. “Gwouroud knows that’s not it, bruther. They’re just fearful folk hereabouts. They
feed off the tall tales and spook stories of their neighbors. I’ve been through provinces like that, where everyone is so
credulous they’re scared to set foot beyond their own village.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply of the brisk, unpolluted
air, its innate refreshingness enhanced by the extra oxygen being pumped out by the forest.

The wagon hit a rut and bounced, jarring Ahlitah momentarily awake. “Pick your trail with care, man,” he rumbled.

“There is only one.” Ehomba’s response was curt. “And while we have the wind with us, this is no flying machine to soar smoothly
over what water has cut.” Moments after Ehomba composed his terse rejoinder, the wagon began to slow.

Opening his eyes again, Simna ibn Sind saw that the wind still blew in gusts sufficient to drive the vehicle. It was Ehomba
who was bringing them to a gradual halt as he turned the sail sideways to the breeze. Frowning, the swordsman sat up.

“Hoy, bruther, why are we stopping?” A glance at the sky showed that it was too early for the midday meal. It was time for
them to be covering as much ground as possible, not pausing to rest or engage in casual contemplation of their surroundings.
“This wind is meant to be used.”

“So are your eyes.” Standing near the rear of the wagon, the herdsman held his long, slim arm out straight, parallel to the
ground and pointing to his right, off into the woods.

Blinking, Simna glanced in the indicated direction. So did an insouciant Hunkapa Aub. Curled up near the back of the wagon,
the black litah ignored the delay in favor of sleep.

“I don’t see anything, bruther.” The swordsman’s confusion showed itself in his face. “What are you pointing at? What am I
supposed to be looking for?”

“In that big elm. A bird.” Ehomba sighted along his arm. “I understand your difficulty. It is not very big. About the size
of a sparrow.”

Simna made a face. “You stopped so we could look at a sparrow?”

“There!” Ehomba’s identifying finger shifted slightly to the right. “It just flew into the tree next to it. It is a little
closer now. See?” He gestured impatiently with his arm. “Near the outer end of the lowermost large branch, among the leaves.”

Realizing that to resume headway meant humoring the herdsman, Simna muttered under his breath. As he adjusted his position
slightly in the wagon, he was nearly knocked over by the abrupt shifting of the hairy mass next to him.

“Hunkapa see, Hunkapa see!” Their oversized companion was pointing excitedly, bouncing up and down in the wagon. The stalwart
wooden bed creaked dangerously. “Bird without!”

“Without?” Time to put an end to whatever nonsense had afflicted his friends, Simna decided. “Without what?” Straining, he
followed the pair of pointing arms and used them to fix his gaze on a particular branch in a certain tree.

He located the bird, and as he did so the small hairs on the back of his neck erected. That was more than the bird could do.
It had no hair to stiffen, or feathers either. Nor skin, nor muscle or insides.

Sitting on the branch and preening itself with its naked white beak, the small flying creature ignored all the attention
its presence had prompted. Satisfied, it spread proportionate, compact wings and rose from its perch, flying off into the
forest, a small white specter comprised of nothing but naked, fleshless bones.

Ehomba had watched many birds in flight, and dragonets, and even certain specialized lizards and frogs, but this was the first
time he had ever seen a skeleton fly.

T
he skeletal sparrow was but the first of many they encountered as they drove deeper into the heart of the Hexens. There were
more birds: crows and robins, jays and grosbeaks, neocaths and nuthatches. But they were not alone. It was not long before
they found themselves traveling through a dense and dismal section of forest where flesh was scarce and scoured bone dominant.

Skeletal hares hopped among the roots of sheltering trees. Four-footed white skeletons scampered through the branches trailing
furless vertebrae like the whiptails of scorpions. Once, a cluster of capybara peered up at the travelers from the shelter
of their stream, staring at the wagon from the mindless depths of dark, voided eye sockets. For the travelers, it was unsettling
enough to encounter such sights. To see them staring vacantly back was more unnerving still.