Path of Bones (41 page)

Drazzek directed the group to the wide steps of a squat and troglodytic manor on the north end of the square.  The building was largely intact save for its shattered windows and cracked support columns. 

Ijanna felt an icy presence somewhere within, a deep and cloying chill which made her hesitate to move any closer.  She shivered in spite of the oppressive heat, and the longer she watched the entrance the colder she became.

“What is it?” Kath asked her quietly.  Drazzek Ma’al marched up the steps to the battered doors, where a pair of pikemen in Jlantrian uniforms stood at attention.

“
I don’t know,” Ijanna said.  The Bloodspeakers of the Red Hand remained utterly silent, but there was enough noise from the workers and the hammering of metal on stone that the two of them could speak without fear of being overheard.  Ijanna looked at the black discs.  “I think those are what Kala is here for…there’s something about them, something familiar…”

The Veilcrafted stones were saturated with power, easily dwarfing the energies in the
thar’koon,
which up to that point had been the most potent artifacts Ijanna had ever encountered.  Worse, the magic emanating from the discs was
wrong
somehow, tainted.  Being in their presence made Ijanna’s very soul feel dirty. 

Drazzek Ma’al approached the open doorway to the manor, his cape dragging across the sandstone.  The interior of the building was thick with gloom and shadow, barely lit by red sunbeams slicing through cracks in the walls.  Gilder followed the Allaji, but halberds crossed and stopped him in his tracks, so he raised a hand and brought the rest of the Red Hand to a halt there on the steps.  They stood in the shadow of the ancient building, waiting. 

Ijanna took Kath by the arm and quietly moved them closer to the middle of the group.  Gilder saw them and stepped down to speak with her.

“
What do you think?” he asked quietly, his words muffled by the cowl he wore across his scarred face. 

“
Impressive,” Ijanna said.  “I wish I had some idea what it was she was doing here…what are those stones they’ve been digging up?”

Gilder’s pale eyes stayed focused on her. 

“Something to do with Chul Gaerog,” he said.  “Why do you ask?”

Before either she or Kath could respond the sentries at the door pulled their halberds away and a trio of strange individuals emerged from the building and stood at the top of the steps.

An air of menace surrounded them.  Drazzek Ma’al was among them, his pale Allaji skin and stark white hair like moonlight against his inky armor and cape, and viciously curved blades were slung across his back.  A short and stocky Drage with a thick beard and crimson workman’s clothes stood next to him, his bald pate covered with swirling runes and arcane tattoos.  Ijanna saw a Jlantrian priest, or at least a man dressed as one – he was tall, scruffy and lean, with long brown hair and bloody slashes cut across the front of his priestly raiment and stained armor.  The three men were surrounded by steely-eyed mercenaries wearing mismatched leather and chain armor and armed with Jlantrian weapons. 

The air was eerily silent.  Ijanna glanced up and saw two gargoyles staring down on them from on high, their hollow eyes seeming to mock the foolish Bloodspeakers as they stood there on the steps.  Ijanna smelled the taint of the Veil as the combat-seasoned Red Hand mages drew breath and readied for battle.  Ijanna flexed her hands and breathed deep, and Kath’s fingers ran along the haft of his axe.

A beautiful woman stepped out of the darkness of the building and into the bloody light.  Her pale skin was like sun-stained milk, and her long hair was as dark as a midnight sky.  Deep red lips shone like silvered blood.  She wore no cloak, just dark green leather armor, iron bracers and tall leather boots.  She was short of stature and slim of build yet exuded an unmistakable aura of power, radiant Veil energies Ijanna immediately felt a familiarity with, as if they were kin.  To Ijanna, looking at this darkly alluring Bloodspeaker felt like coming home.

“
Greetings, Gilder,” Kala Azaean said, her voice resonant and strong.  She moved with a serpent’s grace, and her dark eyes glittered like black diamonds. 

“
I am your humble servant,” Gilder said with a bow.  The rest of the Red Hand followed suit, as did Ijanna and Kath so they wouldn’t stand out.  “Malath Zayne sends his deepest regards, and regrets he could not come personally to pay his respects.”

“
I assume important business keeps him away from me,” Kala said with just a hint of malevolent sarcasm.  “It doesn’t matter.  Please, Gilder, tell your Bloodspeakers to relax.  There is food and water, and they are welcome to wait here in the shadows of this structure.  You and I have much to discuss.”

Gilder bowed deeply.  Ijanna realized that Kala was looking right at her.  It was no surprise – she’d learned when she’d met the Witch Mother that the Skullborn couldn’t mask their presence from one another once they were in close proximity.  Ijanna and Kala’s eyes locked, ever so briefly, but after a moment the Princess merely turned away, and Gilder followed her into the building.  One by the one the Red Hand rose and dispersed to rest in the shade or retrieve water and food from the tents.  The mercenaries scattered, and Drazzek Ma’al and his strange cohorts – Ijanna was fairly certain the Drage was none other than Crogas the Red – followed Kala and Gilder inside. 

Kath led Ijanna away from the building and into an alleyway.  They found a quiet place between a low wall and the remains of what appeared to have once been some sort of storehouse, now cracked and open and filled with shattered stone and debris.  They had a clear view of the square and the main road and enough cover to stay out of plain sight.  Ijanna found some crates for them to sit on, and they had enough room just inside the ruined structure to lay out the sleeping bags.  Ijanna had a feeling they could be waiting for some time. 

She seated herself on a crate and stared at the
thar’koon
, which she laid out across her lap, the glistening black and green steel darkly beautiful in the crimson light.  The blades were covered with thousands of intricate runes and glyphs which only a few could understand, among them Ijanna, who’d been taught to decipher dozens of arcane tongues by the mystics of Allaj Mohrter.  They’d taught her much, those men: how to fight, how to identify poisonous plants, how to hunt and hide and read and build a fire and interpret Vossian code and the history of every known race and monster every encountered. 

They’d taught her that saving humankind from the Veil would require a great sacrifice, and that in order for the One Goddess to be freed the source of all magic would have to be uncovered.  That meant finding the Janus Tree, which in turn meant breaching Chul Gaerog.

Ijanna fought off tears.  It was all too much to bear.  There had to be another way.  It should have been easy for her to go and speak with Kala – the woman obviously sensed the kinship between them.  But how much did Kala know?  Would she actually have any information that would be useful to Ijanna?  Even if she did, would she be willing to part with it?  For months Ijanna had driven herself towards this place, this day, in the hopes that the answers would become clear, that meeting with the last Skullborn would somehow mark the end of her journey. 

But now that she was here she was filled with more doubt and fear than ever.  Kala obviously knew
something
, and Gilder’s answer to Ijanna’s question about the dark stone discs only confirmed her suspicions that the Princess’s purpose in Corinth already had something to do with Chul Gaerog.

Maybe she’s trying to fulfill the prophecy
, Ijanna thought. 
Maybe she intends to make herself the sacrifice. 
But if that was true, what was this excavation all about?  The call to the Black Tower was direct, a pulling force Ijanna had felt in the back of her mind for years, always tugging at her consciousness, making her look south, forcing her to take routes that would bring her closer to the Heartfang Wastes.  Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night standing in some strange place with no knowledge of how she got there, watching the southern sky, feeling a need to march towards the Blood Queen’s redoubt. 
No.  Whatever Kala is up to might be related to Chul Gaerog, but she has no intention of freeing Corvinia, at least not by sacrificing herself.

Ijanna’s heart froze.  Could Kala have known she was coming? 

“Ijanna,” Kath said.  Thunder pealed through the cloud-filled sky.  The world seemed frozen in perpetual dusk.  “What are we going to do?  I don’t like this.  Kala has a small army here, and if those stones are from the Black Tower…”

“
She may be attempting the same thing I am,” Ijanna said, looking out at the stones, feeling their tainted pull even from a distance.  Mercenaries gave the artifacts a wide berth but were ever vigilant about them, patrolling back and forth as if they feared someone would actually try to make off with the onyx slabs.  “I came here to ask for help, but maybe she’s already beat me to the task at hand.”

Kath watched the stones and the manor. 

“Well…that’s good, isn’t it?” he asked.  “Maybe that means you don’t have to die after all.”  Ijanna didn’t answer.  Fear roiled inside her, a sense of loss and desperation.  Everything she’d done had driven her to this place, and now she feared she’d made a terrible mistake.  Kath knelt down and took her hand.  “You don’t have to die,” he said again.  “Maybe this is the answer you’ve been searching for.”

“
I’d like that,” she said. “More than anything.  I’d do anything to have my life back.  But I have to be sure, Kath.  I have to find out what she’s doing here...
exactly
what she’s doing here.  Until I know that, I still have a job to do.”  She looked him in the eyes.  “If I can’t find another way, then I’ll have to go through with my mission and find a way to enter Chul Gaerog.  I’ll sacrifice myself, just like the mystics of Allaj Mohrter foretold.”  Kath moved to say something, but Ijanna held up a hand.  “I have to believe my death will have meaning,” she said.  “Ever since I lost everything in the death camps I’ve been avoiding my fate, searching for some other way, but if I can’t find one I’ll do what I was meant to do.”

Which means your family will have died for nothing. 
A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared back into Corinth.  The taint in the stones unsettled her.  She wondered if it scared Kala, too.

“
I won’t leave you alone,” Kath said.  “You know that.  But there’s no point in getting ourselves killed trying to figure out what’s going on.”  He stood and looked back at the shattered streets.  The air was full with the ringing of hammers on stone.  “So what do we do?” he asked.

“
We’ll meet with her,” Ijanna said.  “She knows I’m here, but she may not entirely understand who or what I am.  We’ll see if we can find out what she’s doing without revealing too much about ourselves.”

“
What about Gilder?” Kath asked.  “He’s with her now…maybe he’ll learn what’s happening here.  We can talk to him before we figure out what to do next.  If we don’t think she’s going to help us then we can just... leave.”

The notion of crossing back across the Bonelands and heading south to Chul Gaerog sent frost down her spine.  Ijanna recalled the tower from her dreams, tall and dark and surrounded by webs of black lightning and hollow children.  It would be her last journey: succumbing to her fate, marching to her own death.  There would be no turning back.

There never has been.

She wiped cold tears from her eyes. 

“We’ll need to find Gilder as soon as he’s available,” she said.  “We still have those Jlantrians on our trail.”

Kath took watch.  Ijanna closed her eyes, wishing herself somewhere else, knowing that when she opened them again she’d still be there, in a blasted ruin at the end of the world, shivering with fear beneath the quaking skies.  Doing whatever it took to avoid her fate.

Fifty-Three

Kath watched for the pale Bloodspeaker while Ijanna slept.  The day faded, but the sun refused to fully set even as the toxic moon rose over the horizon. 

The slaves and servants never stopped working and the songs of labor rang long into the night as wagons and barrels were filled with soil.  Workers struggled to pull yet another of the black stone discs out of the ground, and it looked to be arduous work.  The slaves were covered with dirt and sweat, their muscles tense and faces stern as they painstakingly hauled earth and broken rocks and pulled on lines to lift the artifact from its dusty grave. 

Kath watched the soldiers carefully.  They, like the workers, were constantly on the move, walking patrol or rotating watch.  As night fell they lit bonfires and torches; they seemed less concerned with maintaining a low profile than alerting would-be attackers to their superior defensive numbers. 

The majority of the men were mercenaries, save for a handful who kept close to the manor and were likely the remnants of Princess Azaean’s honor guard, and the slavers, who seemed to answer to the man in the defaced priestly raiment.  Kath hadn’t wanted to say anything to Ijanna, but he was certain that man was none other than Gallaean Stohrmshrike, a renegade priest who’d started his own crusade against those he considered “unholy” – Bloodspeakers, whores, the poor, foreigners, and whoever else he decided needed to be punished for supposed crimes against the One Goddess.  Gallaean had been arrested and tried for murder for starting a small rebellion near Tallon, but even though most of his followers were sent to Hellstone Deep he somehow eluded capture. 

This is just getting worse by the minute
, Kath thought.

Whatever issues Gallaean had with whores didn’t seem to spill over to the rest of the mercenary soldiers, for a good number of dark-skinned and scantily clad figures could be seen among the men, and Kath heard shrieks of pleasure and rings of applause from the tents and in the shadows of the flame-lit building shells. 

The excavation was enormous, and Kala’s resources seemed vast.  Crogas, Gallaean and Drazzek Ma’al, the mercenaries and slaves and unholy priests, the whores, the monsters, the siege weapons…it all had the feel of an invading force, like they were preparing to launch a small-scale war. 

What in the One Goddess’s name do those stone discs
do
? he wondered. 

Kath’s eyes followed Gilder as he left the manor.  The Bloodspeaker’s rapid pace made clear that he was in a hurry.

“Ijanna,” he said gently.  She’d fallen asleep on some blankets in the empty building the two of them were camped in.  A small blaze provided light.  She’d tossed and turned all through her short rest, but at the sound of his voice her eyes shot open and she sat straight up.  “Gilder,” he said. 

She grabbed her cloak and secured the
thar’koon
, which she’d broken down to its individual components so she carried two short blades instead of one long one. 

Kath and Ijanna moved into the street.  The air was thick with sweat and smoke and the sky was quickly growing dark; only a raiment of crimson sunlight clung to the eastern sky.  They closed in on the Red Hand, who’d camped a few hundred yards in front of the manor, in the shadow of a crumbled statue of some hammer-yielding Dragian hero.  Several of the Bloodspeakers had already gathered around Gilder.

Kath felt Ijanna’s tension.  Her eyes kept going to the stones.  

He still had trouble believing her story about the One Goddess.  According to her, Kath and thousands of others paid worship to a deity who’d been imprisoned.  Part of him thrilled at the notion of what the world might be like if she actually returned, but for the most part the idea terrified him.  Mortals didn’t often survive the affairs of the divine.

Even with fear in his heart Kath knew Ijanna had nothing but noble intentions.  He couldn’t blame her for trying to escape her own sacrifice.  Even the most noted of martyrs – Saint Marklahain of the Mask came to mind, the man who’d been forced to sell his family into slavery so he could journey to the Salt Lands and sacrifice himself to free Corvinia from the Stone of Pain – doubted their faith before doing what needed to be done, and he expected no less from Ijanna.  As hard as it was for him to understand or even believe that resurrecting a beast like Carastena Vlagoth would ultimately be the best thing for Malzaria he knew she was doing everything in her power to make the right decision.

He was less certain of Kala’s intentions, especially considering the criminal company she kept.  Even the supposedly idealistic Red Hand, who seemed bound and determined to forge an alliance with the deposed Imperial Princess, came across as little more than a bunch of glorified Veil-flinging ruffians. 

They were almost to the Red Hand’s camp when Ijanna pulled away from him, as if drawn.  Kath cursed under his breath and followed as she pushed through the throng of slaves and made her way to the pit, where the workers toiled to draw forth the stone, which was still half-buried in the soil at the bottom of the pit, a steep grade of loose gravel, dirt and scattered rocks.  Workers sank up to their knees in the silt, hauling on ropes as they fought to unearth the artifact.  They seemed to be fighting a losing battle, for the earth moved almost like quicksand, and even with the winches and ropes secured around the item it wouldn’t budge.

Ijanna stood and looked down at the stone with fear in her eyes.  Kath put a hand on her shoulder, and he was surprised at how icy she felt.

“Ijanna?”

Her eyes glowed with ice-white light, and subtle crimson vapors curled from her mouth.  Kath moved around and stood in front of her, but her gaze didn’t break. 

“They take us there...” she said.

“
What?”

“
These stones…these Scars…they take you to Chul Gaerog, take you
inside
Chul Gaerog.  Just like they took my father…”  The glow faded, and she looked at Kath.  “She’s going to Chul Gaerog.”

“
That’s good though, right?” he asked, but clearly Ijanna didn’t think so based on how shaken she was.  “It’ll be all right,” he said, not with nearly as much confidence as he would have liked.  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“
You can’t stop it,” she said.  “Nobody can.”

Kath wasn’t sure what to say, so he held her shoulders in his hands. 

“It’ll be all right,” he said.  “You have to believe that.  You
have
to.”  She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.  “Let’s go talk to Gilder, and see what he found out.”

There was no need to seek Gilder out, as he came searching for Ijanna and Kath with the same two Bloodspeakers who’d accompanied him in the Bonelands. 

“
We need to talk,” he said.  “And not here.”

Kath eyed him suspiciously, but Ijanna nodded.

“All right,” Kath said.  “This way.”

Kath led them back across the square, past throngs of slaves and mercenaries who by all accounts seemed prepared to work through the night.  Fuel was added to the bonfires, and a number of blazing torches were handed out to several of the slave masters so the workers could see while they continued dragging the black stone from the ruined pit.

The small group returned to the gutted building where Kath and Ijanna rested.  Only Gilder came with them the whole way, leaving his cohorts to stand watch outside – whatever it was he had to say, he clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear it.  The campfire had died down, but Ijanna breathed Veilfire and set it floating in the air, a pulsing crystal orb of orange-yellow flame which cast shadows across their faces as they huddled in the corner of the ruined building.

“
How did your talks go?” Ijanna asked.

Gilder waited what felt like an eternity before answering.  His cowl was pulled tight across his face, and his scars and burns looked even more ghastly in the half-light. 

“I have no reason to trust you,” he said at last.  “I know little about you aside from what Malath told me…but based on what you did for him, you’re someone I
want
to trust.  Malath seemed convinced you helped him escape those camps not because of who he was but because he was simply a fellow Bloodspeaker in need.”

“
And that’s true,” Ijanna said. 

Kath chewed his lip. 
And where was Malath while my mother was being beheaded? 
he wanted to ask.  He looked at Ijanna. 
Where were you? 
But this wasn’t the time.  Maybe someday he’d ask Ijanna if she’d met his mother, if she knew anything about Malath’s lover who’d been taken and executed by the Dawn Knights, and if that was all they’d done to her. 
I have to believe you would have saved her if you had the chance
. 
I have to.

“
I need your help,” Gilder said. 

Kath watched him carefully.  The Bloodspeaker’s words seemed genuine, but he hated not being able to read the man’s face.  Ijanna looked to Kath for affirmation, and he nodded. 

“You don’t trust Kala,” Ijanna said to Gilder.  “Even after meeting with her, there’s something about her or this situation you don’t like.”

Gilder’s cowl twisted into a knowing smile. 

“You’re very astute, Ijanna,” he said.  “No, I don’t trust her.  I never did, to be quite honest, but we could use her as an ally.  Now, after meeting her, I trust her even less.”

“
Why?” Kath asked, but Gilder ignored him.

“
Will you help me?” he asked Ijanna.  Ijanna gave him a hard stare, but nodded.

“
How?” she asked.

“
You have abilities that will prove useful,” Gilder said.  “You can see into the dreams of others.  Malath desperately wants this alliance with Kala Azaean, as her name will lend credence to our cause.  The only thing holding this union back is
me
, because I question Kala’s motives.”  Gilder hesitated.  “Moreso, I question her sanity.  I won’t let this partnership take shape if I think it will put the Red Hand in jeopardy.  I also need to know about these men with her: the Drage Veilwarden, the human priest, the Allaji warrior.  She’s been very elusive about them.”

This time it was Ijanna who waited.  Kath watched her, watched Gilder, watched the shadows all around them. 

“The power to enter other’s dreams,” she said, “is called
dae’vone
.  It’s difficult, but I can try.  I’ll have to wait until she’s asleep, and even then it will only be effective if she hasn’t taken measures to safeguard her mind.  Thankfully that’s seldom done, unless she has the gift herself.”  Ijanna paced back and forth.  Her hood was down, and she’d pulled back her wheat-blonde hair.  Even pasted with sweat and grime she was still so beautiful.  Kath couldn’t help but lose himself in the sight of her, and he had to shake himself back to the moment. 

Focus, you idiot.  We have a long way to go.

“What will you do for me in return?” she asked Gilder.

“
What do you want?” he asked.

“
I want to know about the Scarstones,” she said.  “Those artifacts she’s ripping out of this city.  I have some inkling of what they can do, but I want to know what she wants with them.”  She squared up Gilder.  “Because I also need Kala’s help…or at least I thought I did.  There’s something I need to do, and for all I know she’s doing it for me.  But I have to be sure.”  She looked pointedly at Gilder.  “Do you have the information I need?”

“
Yes,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

“
Good,” Ijanna said.  “If I can use
dae’vone
to access her dreams, I may be able to find out what I want to know on my own.  If not, I’ll need you to tell me.  That’s
one
thing.”

One thing?
Kath thought.  Ijanna was growing bold. 
Good.  That’s the only way we’re going to get through this.  I’d do best to follow her example.

Gilder was taken aback. 

“And the second?” he asked dryly.

“
If I’m wrong about Kala, and she isn’t planning to do what I hope she is, then I’ll have to do it myself.  I’ll need help.”

Gilder might have been made of stone, but Kath saw something in those milky eyes.

“You know what she’s talking about,” Kath said to him.  “Don’t you?  You know what Ijanna’s mission is.”

“
I do,” Gilder said.

“
Well?” Ijanna said coldly. 

“
If you’ll use
dae’vone
to probe Kala’s dreams for us,” Gilder said, “and if you decide you still need to go and sacrifice yourself in the Black Tower …then yes.”

“
Yes
what?” Ijanna asked.

“
Yes, we’ll help you enter Chul Gaerog,” Gilder said.

Fifty-Four

A blind man could have followed the trail.  Ijanna might have been trying to hide her path at some point, but that was certainly no longer the case.  Slayne feared they were being led astray, that the trail had been intentionally left to throw them off the real path, but Razel confirmed their route. 

It had been several days of hard travel.  Slayne was happy to have the Black Eagles along – without them to hold him in check he felt certain he’d have killed at least one of Argus’ team.  Razel was so self-confident and arrogant she bordered on egomaniacal, and Jar’rod’s mysterious bouts of silence were infuriating, especially since they sometimes lasted as long as a day. 

At least the woman Fon hadn’t done anything to earn Slayne’s ire, at least not yet – he actually appreciated her blunt speech and candor, and he also found her simple manner of dress and lack of a lady’s grooming quite attractive in its own fashion.  Truth be told, he wanted to fuck her so badly he could hardly see straight, and more than once he’d considered sneaking over to her tent after they’d bedded down for the night to take care of that urge once and for all.  He hadn’t, and as a result his blood boiled and his nerves were on edge.