Path of Honor (4 page)

By the time she returned to the fire, Sodur was stirring a porridge. Reisil checked the horses, pleased that the wound on the neck of Sodur’s gelding was cool to the touch. Indigo shoved his head into her belly and pushed her playfully. Reisil staggered.

“Itchy? All right, come on, then.” She scratched his forehead and behind his ears. He groaned, stretching and tilting his head. Sodur’s horse looked on enviously, and Reisil obliged him with a chuckle.

Sodur and Reisil ate their breakfast in silence. Reisil couldn’t help twitching every time something scurried through the underbrush or the wind rattled the trees.

“They’re gone. They won’t be back,” Sodur said, scraping his bowl.

Reisil cast him a dubious look. “Met a lot of them, have you? Or maybe they whispered it in your ear?”

He flushed. “They’re gone. That’s all.” He rose and strode off to rinse his dishes in the rill.

When he returned, he began packing up their camp, and Reisil quickly finished her porridge and joined him. Most of the last two weeks had been a meandering journey, a chance for her to see Kodu Riik, meet more of its people and, perhaps most important, relax after months of winter confinement in Koduteel. But now she felt all the tension come flooding back. They were here for a purpose. Her stomach tightened, the porridge balling thickly in her stomach. She thought about the previous day, her inability to call up even a trickle of power. They were here to find plague victims. But what she was going to do with them, she didn’t know.

 

The morning quickly warmed, though high clouds made wearing a hat unnecessary. They ranged higher into the foothills, Sodur pushing their pace as fast as the exhausted horses would go. Lume trotted close beside him while Saljane flittered and twisted through the trees.

As they crowned a high ridge, Reisil couldn’t resist twisting in her saddle to gaze behind at the Karnane Valley stretching out below them. Far across the vast valley she could see a purple smudge where the Melyhir Mountains hemmed in the eastern expanse of the Karnane. They had traveled through the southern end of the valley after leaving Koduteel, taking a wide, circuitous route from the city. Drought continued to hound the valley dwellers, with the rivers providing the only source of water. Even deep wells had run dry. Fields were stunted and withered, except in those small green patches where farmers had devised ways to draw water from the rivers.

Reisil sighed and turned back around. The irony of the mountain greenness did not escape her. But with the
nokula
packs, who from the valley would brave the mountains to hunt or forage? She glanced at Sodur. She ought to tell him about her failure to draw her power yesterday. The words withered on her tongue. He stared ahead, his gaze distant and brooding. She’d never seen him like this. Not even after Upsakes’s betrayal. Until now he’d always shown infinite patience and unshakable tranquillity.

Reisil turned away, touching her bond with Saljane for reassurance. The isolation was creeping up again: the feeling that she was always on her own, even in a crowd. Sodur didn’t mean to do it. He had no idea how much she had come to rely on him. And it wasn’t fair to burden him. But the sudden wall between them was like a slap in the face, and she felt lost.

Reisil’s lips quirked. Juhrnus’s
ahalad-kaaslane
was a sisalik. The enormous lizard hated anything resembling cold and would revolt against another winter riding circuit. As completely besotted with Esper as Juhrnus was, she didn’t doubt that the two wanderers
would
be back before winter took hold. She smiled. As much as he’d bullied her through her childhood, she never would have imagined Juhrnus could care about anything as much as he cared for Esper. But nearly losing his
ahalad-kaaslane
when Upsakes had tried to murder them had made Juhrnus grow up.

“Nearly there. Over that ridge.” Sodur pointed to a heavily wooded slope. The sun broke through clouds, spangling the trees with light.

Reisil yawned, her jaws cracking. “Hope they have kohv on the fire. And hot bread.”

“Best not dawdle, then. Don’t want to be late for lunch or there won’t be anything left. Not in a town this small.”

Veneston was situated in a rich valley, the drought having had little impact on the thriving town. It perched on the edge of a narrow, quick-running river that sparkled in the sun, reminding Reisil uncomfortably of the
nokulas
.

At the top end of the valley was a mine shaft where the villagers quarried copper and silver. A waterwheel poured water into pipes that ran down to the fields and filled cisterns in the town. The air smelled of blue spruce, hemlock and birch. It was an idyllic spot, with tidy, half-timbered houses, green meadows dotted with black sheep and spotted goats.

There was no stockade to discourage visitors, and Reisil wondered if the town had been troubled by
nokulas
. But she saw no signs of violence. They rode down the main street, eager to break their midday fast, charmed by the quaint tidiness of the town.

But as they passed between the boat shed, cartwright and smithy, the wind turned, and the stench of death rose about them in an invisible fog. Reisil covered her mouth and pinched her nose, gorge rising in her throat. Down on the ground, Lume whined, his hackles rising. The two horses snorted and shifted uneasily.

Now Reisil noticed that the town was eerily quiet, except for the low musical sound of wooden pipe chimes ringing from the gable of the nearby tavern, the swishing rush of river, and the sough of the wind through the trees.

“I guess we found what we were looking for,” Sodur said grimly, pulling his gelding up and dismounting. He tied the animal to the hitching post. As Reisil swung to the ground, she called Saljane. The goshawk arrowed from the trees and landed on Reisil’s gauntleted fist, her slate wings making a popping sound as she spread them to halt her descent. Reisil lifted Saljane to her shoulder, glad of the goshawk’s fierce strength in her mind.

“Where is everybody? They can’t all be dead—can they?” Her voice quivered. The reports spoke of entire villages killed, but she hadn’t believed that. She couldn’t even conceive of such death.

“Not all, not yet,” came a harsh voice from within the tavern. Sodur and Reisil jerked in surprise. “Soon enough. Best get back on those beasts and ride like demons was chasing you.”

“We came to help.” Sodur stepped up onto the wide, skirting porch.

“Nothing you can do,
ahalad-kaaslane
. Nothing anyone can do. Justice from the Lady, I reckon. Built our fires, made our prayers, did our rites. No answers but for more dying. Maybe that was the Lady’s answer.”

“Maybe we’re the answer.” Reisil sent a silent prayer to the Lady that this was true.

“Likely not,” came the unimpressed reply. “But if you’re so eager to die, go down to the shearing sheds at the end of the street. Go on, then, and don’t come back here after.”

Sodur and Reisil looked at one another and proceeded down the street, leading their horses. On all sides, the houses turned grim faces on the
ahalad-kaaslane
. One had been burnt to the ground, leaving a gaping hole filled with ash and charred timbers. Several others had been sealed shut from the outside and archaic symbols painted on the shutters and doors. Reisil gasped and angled toward the closest of those boarded up. Sodur caught her arm, his face harsh.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “Whoever’s inside is probably long since dead, from thirst or hunger, if not the plague. Better to see what we can do for the people in the sheds. They might still be alive.”

Reisil nodded jerkily. Saljane dipped her head and rubbed Reisil’s cheek.

Trust. Faith. Solace.

Reisil returned the caress, stroking Saljane’s black-and-white breast, savoring her
ahalad-kaaslane
’s confidence.

~As the Lady wills it,
came Saljane’s impassive reply.

Reisil’s lips pinched together. Everything she had been taught said that the Lady protected Kodu Riik from ill, and would do so as long as its people remained faithful. But then why permit the war with Patverseme? Why send a drought? And what about the plague and the
nokulas
? Kodu Riik and its people were dying, which pointed to an obvious conclusion. The Lady no longer cared. Or worse, were all these horrors punishment? Was Saljane right? Did the Lady
will
this?

A chill ran down Reisil’s spine, and her toes curled inside her boots. “I hope not,” she muttered.

As they walked by the boarded-up houses, Sodur swore, eyeing the symbols painted garishly on the walls.

“What?” Reisil asked.

“You don’t recognize them? No, of course not. You shouldn’t. These villagers shouldn’t either. These are ancient hexmarks and curses, wards against evil. They have no business here.” His voice was clipped, his chin jutting like a hatchet blade.

Reisil glanced at the crude, stark symbols. They had been drawn with charcoal and a paint that looked unnervingly like dried blood. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Stupidity,” Sodur spat. “They look for salvation and ask for worse than what they’ve got. These symbols belong to the old gods and those evil times before the Lady saved us.” He shook his head again, lip curling. “The price was faith in Her. Absolute faith. All the old gods were to be left behind forever. And we wonder why She does not answer our prayers. The people have proved themselves faithless.”

“Did the people lose faith and the Blessed Lady stop answering? Or did She stop answering and so the people lost faith?”

Sodur jerked to a halt, rounding on Reisil and grasping her arms in a bruising grip. “Don’t
you
question the Lady!
You
, of all people!”

Startled, Reisil couldn’t find the words to defend herself.

He dragged her forward, his lips pulled thin and pinched face flushed. “Look there, that first one. The mouth in the circle with the eye inside? That one represents Betinue. God of secrets and lies, of seeming and tales. He’s an eater of souls. They say that those unfortunate enough to grace his palate scream their torment forever in the black depths of his stomach. You curse your neighbor with that one and hope Betinue doesn’t turn on you.

“And there, the hand with the waves below and the lightning above? That one is Elwaak. She swims silent beneath the water, yanking the unsuspecting under like a hungry crocodile. She is blind, righteous vengeance, and
chodha
anyone who gets in her way. And there’s another. Suthmanya , the spoiler. A spider’s body, hands like talons, the long tongue. Do its bidding, and you will reap blood and power. But the spoiler is fickle and not even its disciples are safe from it.”

Sodur faced Reisil again, his eyes glittering, flecks of spit speckling his lips and chin. His expression was so twisted that Reisil hardly recognized him.

“Can you imagine what would happen to Kodu Riik if we went back to following them or the dozen other gods we put aside when we embraced the Lady? There’s not one that doesn’t revel in blood and carnage and suffering. There would be war again, like nothing we saw with Patverseme. And blood sacrifice. These gods must be fed, never forget. And I imagine they would want a bit of revenge for our faithlessness. Their power has faded in the years since the Lady’s held us in Her hands, but feed them, and they would ravage this land. Kodu Riik would dissolve into a horror of rape and pillage and brutality. Believe me, this plague is nothing,
nothing
, compared with what these monsters would visit on us if we turned from the Lady.”

Sodur stopped, breathing hard, glancing back along the streets at the symbols repeated across so many of the houses. He held up his hands, looking up at the sky. “How can they even remember? We have worked so hard for so many years to erase such knowledge.”

Reisil rubbed her fingers over her arm, wincing, frowning as his words sank in. “I didn’t know that.
Why didn’t I know that?
”

Sodur turned a look of aggravated impatience on her, sliding his fingers roughly through his hair. “Demonballs, Reisil! Because you don’t look. You don’t pay attention to what’s right in front of you. Sometimes I wonder if you can really be that naïïve. One wonders how you’ve survived this long.”

Reisil stiffened at the contempt in his voice. He was looking at her like she was something smelly he’d stepped in. Her teeth clamped together and she faced him, her expression tight. “
Am
I naïïve, then?”

“Like a child hiding in her mother’s skirts.”

Reisil recoiled. She’d been abandoned as a child, raised by charity. There had never in her life been anyone to protect her. She’d never had the choice to hide in her mother’s skirts or anywhere else.

“Maybe you should educate me,” she said, biting off each word as she folded her arms across her stomach.

“Would that you could see it for yourself,” he returned. “Open your eyes! You are never going to survive if you can’t see what there is to be seen. Being
ahalad-kaaslane
means standing on your own, making your own decisions.”

At Reisil’s continued look of hostility, Sodur flung out a hand and explained grudgingly.

“The Iisand has been a supporter of the
ahalad-kaaslane
all his reign, but he’s unusual. Many Iisands have rebelled against our authority. The
ahalad-kaaslane
have the power to gainsay the nobility. The Iisand and the Arkeinik rule Kodu Riik, but only so far as we allow them. It sticks in their craw. Since the founding of Kodu Riik, there has been a constant push to limit the influence of the
ahalad-kaaslane
.” He snorted and shook his head. “All they needed was an excuse. Upsakes gave them one. Now our heads are truly on the block. Our warnings fall on deaf ears; our protests are dismissed as self-serving, greedy or treasonous. The nobles begin to move openly against us. Even to murder. They no longer believe the Lady watches and judges.”