City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1) (31 page)

“I’m in no danger of that,” she said.  He looked dubious.  “I’m not placating you, Kath…it’s true.  I’m not like other Bloodspeakers.  I’m different.”

“How?” he asked. 

The crowd in the Harpy’s String started to thin out.  A clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the rain poured down outside.  A few early drinkers still lingered at the bar, telling loud tales and laughing heartily.

“I won’t run out of Veil energy,” she said.  “Not ever.  I’m very powerful, Kath.  And there’s something very important I’m supposed to
do
with my power.  There aren’t many like me – only three of us, actually – and that’s why so many people want to get their hands on us.  The Black Guild, the Phage, even the White Dragon Crown – they want to sell me.”

“Sell you?” Kath growled.  “I’ll lose my head before you’re sold to anyone…sell you to who?”

“I don’t know.  Someone who wants me because of what I can do.  Or who wants to stop me from doing it.” 
I don’t want to tell you this,
she thought
.  Any of this.  But you deserve to know. 
And she’d desperately wanted someone to talk to for so long.  Bordrec would only hear so much – his loyalty to her was born through a blood-debt, and they’d never had the kind of relationship where she felt like she could open up to him personally.  Of course, she’d never really been good with people.  Most of her life had been spent in the company of mystics and warriors who treated her like a dangerous animal.  She had very little knowledge or memory of her parents, and the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend was the man she’d killed.

The only people you can open up to are the ones who have no choice.

“What do you have to do?” Kath asked hesitantly.

“I have to go to Chul Gaerog,” Ijanna said.

Kath turned pale.  “The Black Tower.”  This soldier – this strong and powerful young man – looked more the boy than ever. 

He
is
a boy
, Ijanna reminded herself.  But he was with her now, locked into her insane mission.  Young as he was, he needed to grow up fast. 

“Why would you go there?” he asked.  “It’s the heart of evil.”

“Not everything is what it seems, Kath,” Ijanna said.  “The Rift War was almost thirty years ago.  Few understand what actually happened, or who Carastena Vlagoth really was.”

“People died,” he said.  “That’s all I know.  The Blood Queen rose and tried to conquer everything, and the Empires united.”

“Yes,” she said.  “The world still hasn’t healed.  And it won’t, until I do what I’m supposed to do.  I have to die, Kath.  Only my sacrifice will save us.” 

Kath clearly didn’t know what to say.  He would have questioned her, but their bond was enough to impart on him the truth of her words. 

They sat silent for a long time after that.  Kath picked at his plate.  The air turned colder. 

“We’re not going to Chul Gaerog just yet,” she said at last.

“What?”

“Like I said, Kath…there are others like me. I have to find them…well, one of them.”  She took a deep and shuddering breath.  All of the fear she thought she’d put aside came rushing back at her.  “I’m scared, Kath,” she said quietly.  “Ever since I was old enough to speak I was told by Allaji mystics the only way to heal our wounded world was for me to die.  I don’t think I really understood it then…I didn’t comprehend death.”  She felt herself shaking.  “But I do now.  What I saw…”

“In the camps,” Kath said, and he looked up from the table like he’d just seen a ghost.  He hadn’t meant to say it.  Memories flooded back to her, the fires, the blood, the screams.  Torture and cries for mercy.  Children beaten to death, slow rapes, jagged blades.  Pits filled with people who had just enough time to cry out in terror before they were set aflame.

“You know?” she rasped.

“Everyone knows,” Kath stammered.  “I know more than some.”  He looked weak.  “My mother fell in love with a man, and she left us for him.  I don’t know if he was a Bloodspeaker or not, but he was taken to the camps by those knights…the knights they exiled.”  His voice was brittle.  “They took
her
, too…”

Ijanna’s hand found Kath’s on the table.  His grip was like ice.  “Kath…I’m sorry.  I am so, so sorry.”

“I saw the mark on your back,” Kath said dully.  “I…I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”

“No,” Ijanna said.  “No, you can’t.  Nor do you want me to explain it.”  She felt tears running down her face, but she tried to ignore them.  “Whenever I think of what I lost there…I’m empty inside, Kath.  What I lost…” 
What I lost can never be replaced.
She shook herself and clenched Kath’s fingers tight.  “I’m tired of running,” she said with as much strength as she could muster.  “When I’m not running from the Empress I’m running from the Phage, and now the Black Guild, and the Chul…”

“The Chul?”

“A nihilist cult.  Hellish people who worship Chul Gaerog, and what they think is still trapped inside.  They all want me, and most of them want me
dead
.  Everyone I meet is trying to kill me or capture me, and here I’m trying to fulfill a promise made
for
me before I was even born.”  She let go of Kath’s hand.  “The only choices I have left are to stay in one place and get killed or go face my fate and die.”  Her anger returned.  It gave her strength.  “But I won’t do that.  I need to know
why
those are the only choices, why I’ve been chosen to martyr myself for people who’d rather hunt me down and kill me as soon as look at me.  Why is this the only way? 
Is
it the only way?  I have to find the others…the
other
…and now I have the means to do so.”  She patted the
thar’koon
blades, wrapped in heavy cloth and resting against her chair.  “These were created to lead the owner to me, and to those like me.  Now
I
can use them.”

“Ijanna,” Kath said.  “I’ll help you.  You know I will.  I’m sorry…you must be lonely.”  He didn’t wait for her to reply.  “I would help you even if this magic hadn’t bonded us.  So you let me know exactly what it is we need to do.”

“Thank you,” she said, but it seemed a foolish thing to say. 
You’ll help me because the Veil will force you to.  I have no friends, and never will, save those bound to me by a power that consumes my soul. 
“There’s a man in the city who will help us get to Chul Gaerog,” she said.  “He has influence and connections.  I’d like to find him and tell him I’m not going to the Black Tower.  Not yet.”

“So where
are
we going, once we find your friend?” Kath asked.  He seemed to have perked up a bit.  Ijanna knew she was about to ruin his mood again.

“We head north – into the Bonelands.  That’s where the blades tell me I’ll find the other woman like me.  We’ll try to find her and…and then we’ll go from there.  I just hope I have time.  I can feel something happening.  Whatever threat it is I’m supposed to quell is gaining momentum.  And it’s getting stronger.”  Ijanna shook her head.  She felt that old fear returning, that old doubt. 
I’m being selfish.  I’m putting everyone else in danger because I feel like I deserve a chance to live. 
It went against everything she’d ever been taught, everything the Allaji mystics had tried to instill in her mind from the time she was a young child. 
They never saw the death camps.  They never had to watch everything they’d ever wanted ripped away. 
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she said, half to herself.  “I hope this won’t cost any more lives.” 
I have to try,
she told herself. 
I have to.  The weight of this burden is crushing me.

“Are you all right?” Kath asked.

“No,” she said.  “Not really.  But I’ll do my best.”

She straightened herself. 
Enough of this.  You’ve made your decision.  There’s nothing to do now but move forward.

The Harpy’s String was nearly empty.  A few rugged-looking men amiably discussed the failings of various pieces of farming equipment while they enjoyed what looked to be their third or fourth round of ale, and an elderly woman with silver hair sat in the corner and talked to herself while she drank tea and knit a pair of long socks. 

“I’ll help you,” Kath said again, “but there’s one more thing I need to know.”

“Of course,” Ijanna said.  She felt like she could sleep for a month. 
Not yet.  There’s much to do before you sleep.

“When you get to Chul Gaerog,” he said pensively, “what will your sacrifice do?  I mean, what how would your dying save us?”

A lump came to her throat, but she didn’t hesitate.  She’d promised herself she’d tell him the whole truth.

“My death,” she said, “will bring the Blood Queen back to life.”

Fifty

Kol tasted the rain.  Large puddles covered the street, and small waterfalls ran from the rooftops.  Lightning turned the sky the color of cleaned bones.  He kept the hood of his cloak drawn so as to not draw attention from the human sheep out on the road, and it took some effort to combat his urge to open his arms and howl.  Like a wolf, he had to be patient, even if his patience wore thin.

It was taking far too long for them to find the Dream Witch, and he knew the Witch Mother was angry.  Failure for Kol would mean his death, but worse, he’d be dishonored in the eyes of the Chul.  His wives would be given to the leader of another pack, and his hunters, should any of them survive the Witch Mother’s wrath, would become a feast for the Skull Masters.

Kol would not fail.

He watched people pass in the rain.  They were silent and stupid lambs giving off sweet and tender smells his keen nose pinpointed even through the deluge.  Kol and his pack hadn’t enjoyed a proper feast for over three days, for the power instilled by the Skull of the Moon forbade them to eat.  That same power burned through his mind and blood – it heightened his senses, lent him strength, and made it so he could utterly ignore pain.  He and his pack still had nearly a month before the Skull would consume them if they failed to destroy their chosen target. 

And that was what maddened him.  His increased ability to sniff out prey should have afforded them the means to track down the Dream Witch with ease, but somehow she’d figured out a way to cloak her scent with magic.  The trail hadn’t vanished entirely, but it was difficult to follow. 

Kol and his pack had finally found the place where she’d been that morning.  It had taken precious time, for even with their remarkable senses it was difficult to track in a place so polluted with smells as a city, and the relentless rainfall had turned the roads to muck.  But they weren’t far behind her now. 

They stood between a low building and a shed in an alley filled with shadows.  The Dream Witch’s scent had led them to the military compound outside of Ebonmark’s walls, which had taken diligence and caution to investigate.  Kaerog and the others had badly wanted to kill soldiers and take their heads as trophies, but Kol had been forced to dissuade them, even though he hadn’t wanted to. 

Now they watched a house through the rain.  It seemed an unlikely place for one as dangerous as the Dream Witch to hide, but Searak, his pack’s finest tracker, had followed her scent to the house from the military camp.  The trail had been old even when they’d found it.  Now Searak had picked up a new trail left by the bitch, one which led to yet another district of the accursed city. 

People had come and gone from the shop all afternoon.  Kol smiled.  His mind went back to a time when he’d owned his own store, when he’d flashed fake smiles and took people’s money and told them how pleased he was to see them, even though he never was.  The Witch Mother had saved him from that unenlightened life. 

Kol felt no pity for the lambs, and never would.  They were weak.  If they were lucky they’d be chosen by the Witch Mother to serve in the ranks of the Chul, but Kol doubted many of Ebonmark’s flock could survive the tests.  Those people were ignorant and soft and reeked of fear.

He and three of his pack waited across the road from the shop.  Their faces were invisible under their hoods and the rain burned into mist around them, as if unable to bear the touch of their dark cloaks.  The air was cold, but the Skull of the Moon flushed his skin with heat. 

“She’s gone,” Searak whispered.  His voice was raspy and hoarse from a throat wound he’d suffered years ago.  “But I can follow the trail.”

“What of this place?”  Kol nodded at the house, where the Dream Witch’s scent indicated she’d lingered for almost three days.  His razorine nails anxiously clacked on the hilt of the short blade he kept hidden under his cloak.

“A man and two girls live there,” Ruggarna said.  “One of the girls is ripe.”  Ruggarna was taller than any of the men in the pack by several inches.  Kol could just make out her lean and pierced face under the folds of her hood.  “They may know where the Dream Witch has gone.”

“I can track her,” Searak snarled.  “We don’t need to waste time.”

“But what if you
can’t
track her?” Kol asked.

“Then we come back for them,” Searak whispered.  Kol watched as a customer left the shop.  “I tell you, I have her scent now, and it’s stronger than it was before.”

“We should do it now,” Kaerog smiled.  His teeth were as sharp as a cat’s.  “They’ll tell us what we want to know.”

“Searak and I will track,” Kol decided.  Once his word was given the pack never questioned him.  “Kaerog and Ruggarna will stay here.  Wait until it’s dark.”

The four cloaked figures parted ways.  It wasn’t quite dusk, and Ebonmark was noisy that night, not from fights or singing or idiot people arguing but from the force of the hammering rain and the angry peels of thunder.  The air dripped with fear.  The explosion which had destroyed the fighting arena had sent a wave of terror throughout the city, a sense of paranoia and despair which hung like a cloud.

Searak led Kol away.  They moved silently through the shadows.  Even in that very different type of wasteland they were one with the environment, and they cloaked themselves with the terrifying ease nature afforded only her truest predators.