Blood and Bone (13 page)

Heavy steps announced Hanu’s arrival into the swirling storm of blue flame. Stooping, he scooped her into his arms.

‘
I told you to stay away
.’

‘
I guess your methods are just too subtle for me
.’

She almost laughed but sudden exhaustion settled her head against his chest instead. He carried her out into the rain, past the gaping captives struggling with their bonds, tramping on into the dark woods, pausing only to open the umbrella above her.

Dimly, as she rocked into sleep, she was aware that her brother was walking past and through the flickering pale flames that were the assembled restless ghosts and spirits of the land – none of which he seemed able to see.

* * *

During their voyage west Shimmer came to the opinion that K’azz was avoiding her. It took almost an entire day to finally catch the man leaning against the ship’s side. An achievement on his part, considering the restricted size of the vessel. She rested her weight on her forearms next to him while the blustery contrary winds of this stretch of frigid ocean lashed their hair and clothes. Among the rigging the sailors shouted back and forth in a constant panic to trim the canvas.

‘A stormy crossing,’ she offered her commander.

His gaze on the white-capped waves, the man nodded his assent. ‘I’m told it is the steep temperature change from the ice fields to the warm coastal waters.’

‘Jacuruku
is
warm then?’

‘Yes, just as all the stories say. Like Seven Cities, but with a long season of rains.’ The man raised his chin to the western sky. ‘Which we’re entering now.’

Shimmer glanced up past the foredeck. A front of dark clouds marred the horizon. ‘Dangerous?’

‘Just unrelenting.’

‘And these Dolmens? What of them?’

K’azz’s tanned leathery features clenched and his pale gaze returned to the waves. ‘Yes? What of them?’

‘What is there?’

Her commander brushed his hands on the cracked paint of the rail. Shimmer felt a chill as, for an instant, the slim hands appeared skeletal. ‘A wild power that mustn’t be disturbed. That is all anyone need know.’

‘How do we know Ardata isn’t lying about all this?’

‘She would not lie about that.’ He leaned more of his weight upon the rail. ‘Not that.’

But you are, my commander. Lies of omission. What more might this Ardata be lying about?
‘You were at these Dolmens, weren’t you?’

The memory of something that might have been pain furrowed the man’s brows and he lowered his gaze. ‘Yes.’

‘So … what did you learn?’

He laid a hand on her arm in a gentle touch. ‘That that is enough to know. Do not worry yourself, Shimmer.’ And he gave her what he must have imagined was an encouraging smile but struck her as a death’s head stretching of skin across his jaws. He walked away, leaving her at the ship’s side.

Rutana joined her where she stood peering after the man. ‘You and he,’ the witch began, tentatively, ‘you are lovers?’ Utterly taken aback, Shimmer slowly turned her head to meet the woman’s frank direct gaze. Her thick mane of kinked black hair blew about her face, the amulets and charms tinkling.

‘No.’

She nodded. ‘Ah.’

Shimmer could not help herself: into the long silence that followed she had to ask, ‘Why?’

‘My mistress is … interested in him.’

‘The way she was interested in Skinner?’

A savage scowl twisted the witch’s face and her eyes blazed almost amber. ‘Her offer was genuine! He betrayed her.’

‘And what was the offer?’

The scowl slid into dismissive scorn. ‘That would hardly be your business, would it?’

Shimmer stared, quite bemused by the vehemence of her reaction. Before she could frame a reply a panicked shout sounded from the lookout high on the main mast: ‘
Sea serpent!
’

Shimmer scanned the waves. Her brother Avowed boiled up from below, barefoot, yet readying crossbows and bows.

‘Where ’bout?’ the pilot called.

‘Off the larboard bow!’

Shimmer pushed her way closer to the bow. Searching among the tall waves she spotted a great ship-like girth, snowy pale and stunningly huge, mounting just beneath the surface. Calls went up as others saw it as well.

Cole lowered his cocked crossbow, taking aim.

A thick arm swatted the weapon up and it discharged into the straining shrouds.

Amatt and Turgal turned on the hulking Nagal, who described a slow arc, facing all in turn.

‘Hold!’ K’azz ordered. He pushed his way to Nagal. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘Isturé fools!’ Rutana called from the side. ‘Would you anger our sea-guardians?’

Shimmer exchanged wondering looks with Cole, Lor and Gwynn. ‘Guardians?’

‘Lower your weapons,’ K’azz ordered. Turgal and Amatt reluctantly lowered their bows. Rutana sounded a high cackling laugh into the silence. She was leaning over the side as if meaning to embrace the great beast, clapping her hands and gesturing to the water, perhaps inscribing something. Shimmer edged her way to her.

‘What is this?’ she demanded.

Straightening, Rutana laughed her savage glee, revealing her oddly needle-like sharp teeth. ‘Our sea-guardians. Servants of our mistress. Just as Nagal and I are so honoured.’

‘They serve Ardata?’

The witch peered up at her slyly. ‘They answer her call. They obey her commands. Is this service, or is it … worship? Who is to say?’ And she laughed again, brushing past.

Shimmer remained at the ship’s side, as did all the Avowed. Out among the waves immense girths broached the waves, humped and glistening and mottled and as broad as the flanks of whales.

Cole murmured, ‘In Seven Cities those are called dhenrabi. Any one of them could crush this ship.’

‘Then let’s be glad they’re on our side,’ Shimmer answered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

Cole’s answering look told her that he fully understood her message.

Three days later they sighted land. The shore, if it could be called that, lay invisible beneath a thick forest of tangled trees, the roots
of
which stood from the water like a crazy maze of spider’s legs.

‘This is Ardata’s land?’ Shimmer asked Rutana.

‘The border of it.’

‘Where do we put in? Is there a port?’

Again the witch gave the knowing superior smile that so annoyed Shimmer. ‘No port, Isturé. We travel upriver.’

‘I see. So, the settlement is inland.’

The woman turned away, smiling still. ‘Settlement? Yes, far inland.’

This half-admission troubled Shimmer like few other things on the voyage. While she scanned the swamp-edged jungle, the ship’s pilot pushed the stern-mounted tiller to swing the vessel aside and they struck a course following the coastline south. As the day waned it became obvious that they skirted an immense delta of twisting channels. Some coursed a mere few paces wide, while others passed as open and broad as rivers in themselves. All debouched a murky ochre water to churn and swirl with the darker iron-blue of the sea. Towards evening they came abreast of what Shimmer imagined must be the main channel. So wide was it that she could hardly see the opposite shore. The low tangled jungle edge stretched up the river’s length. Large dun-hued birds scudded over the muddy water; their harsh calls sounded a cacophony of noise. Shimmer saw no signs of settlement, or even of any human occupation.

The order went out to drop anchor. Lor came to Shimmer’s side. She gestured to the nearby swampy shore. ‘Look there. See those?’

Shimmer squinted, not sure what she was looking for. Already in the deepening light the tangled depths of the forest were impenetrable to her vision. ‘What?’

‘Standing from the water.’

‘Oh.’ What she took to be dead stumps resolved into carved wood signs, or totems. They stood at odd angles, rotting and grey with age. All were carved in fantastic shapes, half animal, half human. A snake-human, a half-leopard. Staring closer now, she noted tufted round objects hanging from them, and it took her a time to recognize them as human heads in various stages of decay.

Peering around she found Rutana and crossed to her side. ‘What are those?’ she asked, gesturing to the shore.

The woman glanced over, her gaze half-lidded, disinterested. ‘Hmm?’

‘Those carvings.’

‘Ah.’ The sharp-toothed smile returned. ‘Warnings against trespassers. Bandits and pirates.’

‘Pirates?’ Shimmer waved a hand to the shore. ‘There’s nothing here …’

‘They go upriver to raid for captives. And perhaps they are drawn by the old stories and legends.’

Shimmer nodded.
Ah yes. Legendary Jacuruku. The great city in the jungle. Jakal Viharn. City of gold. Paved in jewels. Immortality and inestimable magical powers to be won
. She leaned against the side. ‘Those are just stories.’

‘Yes, but as with all such legends there resides a kernel of truth in it. Jakal Viharn is real, and it is a very magical place. It is simply … very hard to find.’

‘But you can bring us to it.’

‘Yes. Nagal and I are your guides.’

‘And without you – we would never find it.’

The witch shrugged. ‘It would be most difficult. Yet you Isturé are perhaps resourceful enough …’

‘As Skinner was?’

Rutana’s face closed up once more, her mouth snapping tight. Walking away she said over her shoulder: ‘Tomorrow we start upriver. Prepare yourself for such a journey as you have never known. We enter the world of my mistress’s dreams.’

* * *

The assembled army of tribes that was the Adwami’s raid into Thaumaturg lands made very little headway. Oh, Prince Jatal could admit that the noble cavalry of each house made a pretty enough pageant charging back and forth along the order of march, their polished spearheads gleaming and the colourful tassels of their long caparisons kicking up and whipping as they flew past. But when the dust settled from all that patrician display, the main body of infantry with its carts and wagons of materiel trudged along in a disordered and rather neglected mess. Only the intervention of the Warleader and his officers kept the columns moving along: disentangling a crossing of columns here, or settling an order of march there.

And judging from the old man’s stinging rebukes and even saltier language, the outland general was rapidly loosing his patience with it all.

To Prince Jatal’s disgust the traditional scheming and internecine jockeying that was the curse of the clans of the Adwami began even as the army took its first steps into the maze of bone-dry canyons and buttes: the Saar would not ride alongside the Awamir; the Salil
refused
its posting and instead filed up next to the Vehajarwi; while he, it had to be admitted, nearly trampled several minor families as he manoeuvred his forces to claim the head of the main column. Of course, as the largest of the contingents present, such placement was his by right in any case.

The Warleader and his mercenary army, some two thousand strong, rode as well. Such was the first of the foreigner’s requirements, and fulfilled readily enough as the Adwami counted their wealth in horses – all held against restitution from his twentieth share, of course. The infantry column marked the main body of the army. The mounted noble Adwami contingents surrounded this, riding dispersed, scouting and screening.

Jatal and his fifty loyal retainer knights had the van. As they walked their mounts through the stony valleys and washes – sodden at night but bone dry by midday – representatives of the various families joined him under pretexts of social calls and honouring distant blood-ties. Ganell was of course the first, thundering up on his huge black stallion. The man was nursing a blistering headache which did his notorious temper no favours.

‘I cannot believe these Saar fools are with us!’ he announced, wincing, and holding up a fold of his robes to shade his head.

‘The Warleader welcomes all who would contribute.’

The man’s mouth worked behind his great full beard. ‘Well … I’d best not catch sight of them after the fighting is done, I swear to that by the Demon-King!’

True to the lessons of the many tutors his father had inflicted upon him, Jatal decided to remain the diplomat. ‘We shall see if they honour their commitments.’

‘Ha! That will be a first. Well … I’ll be there to urge them along with the flat of my blade. I swear to that as well!’ And he kicked his mount onward. ‘Fare thee well, O great Prince!’ he laughed as he rode off.

Representatives of Lesser families came and went, joining him at the van for a time. Families his had allied with during various vendettas and feuds of the past. All pledged their support against the certain treachery to come. Jatal thanked them and pledged his own of course, as honour required, but inwardly he could only sigh as he imagined the very same assurances being offered to Sher’ Tal, Horsemaster of the Saar, or Princess Andanii.

As the day waned he became impatient with the army’s slow progress – so contrary to their lofty aim of a lightning-quick raid. How typical of any concerted effort from the Adwami! When the
order
went out from the Warleader for a cease to the day’s ride, Jatal could contain himself no longer. He turned to Gorot, his grizzled veteran master-at-arms. ‘I will scout ahead,’ he said, and kicked his mount onward even as the first objections sounded from the man.