Chasers of the Wind (31 page)

“So it looks like we’re losing?”

“Not yet. They have a hold on the eastern part of the country, but the Nabatorians have progressed no farther than the Isthmuses, even with the aid of the necromancers and the creatures of the Great Waste. Our boys are standing firm. Elite troops and reinforcements are coming closer through the Katugian Mountains. The Mineral Plains have been taken, Gash-Shaku is surrounded. Until it falls, the enemy is unlikely to strike the Steps. It’s too dangerous. Plus, in the west we are resisting them. But the battles are hard fought. If not for the fortified citadels and stockades that constantly delay the enemy forces, who knows how it would all play out. And the land is also on our side. There are more than enough geographical hindrances for the Nabatorians. So maybe we’ll be victorious.”

“It’s hard to believe there’s a war going on. It’s so quiet here,” said Shen.

“A hundred leagues to the north would make you believe, lad. If you strike through the forests and swamps toward the Six Towers, you’ll see it with your own eyes before the week is out.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on in Al’sgara?”

“I’m just now headed there. But it seems like many in that city regard what’s happening as something very far away. They think it doesn’t concern them. And there are fools who don’t believe the rumors at all.”

“And there’s no army to defend it.”

“They’ve left Al’sgara to the dogs. You know what will happen if our forces are defeated. It’s true there was a whisper that the Viceroy may be putting together a force to replace the Second Army, and it may even carry the same name, but it will essentially be a militia of irregulars, retreating troops, and mercenaries. It’s just not enough. If the regular army couldn’t do it, then how will they?”

“What about the Walkers?”

“They are fighting. They are battling with the Sdisian sorcerers and their creations. In some places successfully. But they won’t succeed in burning out the entire infection. At times you meet evil where you least expect it. Four days ago I nearly lost my head.”

“Nabatorians?”

“No. They haven’t drawn so close yet. This was worse. Corpses were climbing out of their graves.”

“A lot?”

“The entire village. There was no one living. If not for my horse, I wouldn’t have escaped.”

“And by a whole village, how many do you mean, sir? Ten? Twenty?” asked Layen.

“Two hundred.”

My sun pursed her lips but said nothing. However, I did not keep my doubts to myself.

“It’s strange that the necromancers have some sort of task in our villages when their strength is needed in the north.”

“I agree.” Gis was not put off by my skepticism. “But I’ve heard about no less than three such cases. Villages and townships where there are no survivors, but which are full of hungry corpses. And this in the very heart of the unconquered territories.”

“The Sdisians are trying to add to our troubles,” Shen said a second before I could.

“And to sow panic,” I backed him up.

“Courier.” The innkeeper walked over. “Your room is ready.”

“Already? Well then, I suppose it’s time for me to go. I need to rest. I’ll be on the road again early tomorrow morning. Thank you for inviting me, friends.”

“Thank you for telling us the latest news.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He smiled mirthlessly. “It’s not the kind of news that causes joy. Good night.”

Gis bowed and then quickly ascended the staircase.

“What will we do?” asked Luk, after clearing his throat for emphasis.

“You want to go to Al’sgara.” I wanted to eat.

“Well, yes. But what then?”

“Then our paths diverge. Layen and I have our own problems, as do you.”

Shen peered at me furtively, but I chose to ignore it. The redhead nodded in agreement, not disputing our right to look after our own affairs.

I knew how I was going to proceed even before the conversation with the courier. Gis only strengthened my confidence in the decision I’d made. Right now we had one vital goal—we would go to Al’sgara and explain to Joch how wicked it was to offer money for Gray and Weasel. That would spare Layen and me from headaches in the future. When no one is chasing after your head, life becomes so much more tranquil. And then only one road will be left—to the Golden Mark. The ships should still be in the harbor while the war is still far off. They’d overcharge us terribly, of course, but thank Melot we had the money. We’d make it.

“Did you notice what he didn’t talk about?” Layen asked us.

All eyes turned to her.

“Not a word about the Damned. Not one. The finest rumors, guesses, and theories, but nothing about the Sextet. As if they don’t exist.”

“Perhaps they’re in no rush to show their strength,” suggested Luk.

“Wasn’t it you who told me that Rubeola tore apart the Six Towers? And her friend was not exactly subtle in Dog Green. I think that, for the time being, the Walkers don’t want to frighten the common folk. For as long as they can attribute all the displays of magic to the Sdisian sorcerers, they will continue to do so. The Whites may be dreadful, but they are nothing compared to the Sextet. Why spread premature panic not only in the population but also among the soldiers? I don’t think the soldiers would fight as well as before if they found out that the old legends had come to life.”

“That may very well be. I think our lads have more than enough on their plates if they have to contend with twenty thousand corpses,” said Luk.

“There can’t be more than a thousand,” she corrected him perfunctorily. “However you calculate it.”

“And why is that?” The soldier clearly didn’t believe her words. “If there were no less than two hundred in that village the courier raced through, then there’d have to be just as many in other places, right? Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.”

“And something about that courier doesn’t sit right with me. I think he’s lying. It requires considerable power to raise a single kuks. Not all of the sorcerers can even manage such a feat. It’s quite a difficult task to transfer a portion of your own spark into a dead body, to constantly keep it under control, to always be expecting your creature to attack you. It’s not worth the waste of power. There are far easier and more efficient means of spreading terror or of creating obedient servants for oneself. A veteran necromancer can raise no more than ten bodies. The sorcerers of the Eighth Sphere can control perhaps thirty or forty zombies. But they’d use up all their power doing it. So, they rarely engage in such nonsense. They raise the dead when they have nothing better to do. Thus, thousands are out of the question. But to hear Gis tell it, there are two hundred living dead in one pitiful little village. For that you’d need five necromancers of the highest order! If not six. And there simply aren’t that many in the world. And they’d be doing nothing more than sitting around a useless village, wrangling corpses while waiting for a chance passerby.”

“Also, the courier said that this was not the first instance,” I supported Layen.

“Exactly. If you count how many sorcerers you would need to fill three or four villages with the dead … I doubt Sdis would send so many Elects for such an insignificant matter.”

During this discussion, Shen had been sitting with his fists clenched and his gaze lowered.

“So then how do you explain the existence of those dead men that attacked me at the old silver mine?” Luk insisted.

“I don’t know. Perhaps there was a necromancer nearby, or perhaps he simply sent them away from the Gates, or maybe they killed their sorcerer. The spell of summoning doesn’t usually vanish with the death of the conjurer. A particle of the spark remains in the puppets and they live on after their master has died. It’s possible that you had the luck to run into just such wretches.”

“I’m going out for a walk.” Ga-Nor stood up from the table and, walking round the numerous customers, headed for the inn’s exit.

“And I, if you don’t mind, am going to bed.” Luk yawned widely and, taking a full mug of shaf with himself for company, he went upstairs, satisfied and full.

The three of us remained. Shen was just sitting there, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. I enjoyed his behavior recently less and less. If earlier he behaved like a callow youth who flung insults around indiscriminately, now he spent a large portion of his time in contemplation. It always seemed to me that the lad was planning some kind of nasty trick.

“Why so gloomy?” I asked him.

He tore his gaze away from his hands and smirked.

“I’m confused about a few things.”

“What, if it’s not a secret?”

The Healer leaned toward us so that none of those sitting at the nearby tables could hear and asked quietly, “How many of the dead can Layen raise?”

“What are you driving at, Healer?” she responded coldly.

“You know what I’m talking about. Not everyone can merge with a khilss, and you controlled Death easily. Why wouldn’t you possess the other skills as well?”

Layen’s face expressed nothing. “You’re raving, boy.”

“No. I just have a knack for drawing the right conclusions, that is all. I’d still be interested to know, who taught you?”

“Oh,” I said, chuckling, having followed the discussion as it unfolded, “I see you’ve decided to turn back to that old subject.”

“But surely someone taught you, right?” Shen paid me no attention. “Someone told you what the sorcerers call zombies. Kuks is a rare word. You also know what the necromancers are called in Sdis. No Walker would ever call them what you did. Elect.”

“But you yourself know these words and you’ll notice that I do not ask you how. Why shouldn’t I know them as well?” Layen turned the accusation around on the Healer.

“And so I shouldn’t ask either?”

“I would appreciate it. To tell you the truth, I don’t even remember where I heard them. They came in handy today. There’s nothing more to it.”

“I see,” he drawled. “Then allow me to ask that with which I began—how many of the dead can you raise?”

“None,” she snapped.

For some time they stared at each other. Finally Shen took a breath and leaned backward.

“I believe you’re lying,” he said in a colorless voice. “And I also have an idea about what you would have done with that woman in the village if she hadn’t caught you unawares.”

“You can have an idea about whatever you like. As for the Damned, my power wouldn’t have been enough to even cause her the slightest injury.”

“Sure, sure. You already told me something to that effect about the necromancer who came to your house. I’m going to sleep.” And the Healer left.

“So how many?” I couldn’t help myself.

She wasn’t expecting such a question from me and she flinched.

“Don’t start.”

“Why not? I’m really curious to finally find out what you’re capable of.”

Now she was avoiding looking into my eyes.

“Like I told Shen…”

“None. And you weren’t even lying. Until your spark flares up again, you can’t do anything. But how many could you raise before?”

This conversation clearly displeased Layen. I was already expecting to hear that it was none of my business. It was all the more strange then that she answered, “Four.”

Iron fingers encircled my throat; it became hard to breathe and a line of cold chills crawled up my spine. A completely childish terror of a person who could control the dead surged up in me. But I battled it down.

I loved her. And I knew that she was not like the necromancers are usually depicted. Many years of life spent side by side had taught us to trust each other. Well … or almost taught us. Layen was looking at me in dismay. She was already regretting her excessive candor and was awaiting what I would say to her now.

“Four.” I savored the word. “That’s not bad for someone who taught herself. Turns out, you’d give a few of the Whites a run for their money. Thank you for finally deciding to tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to for a while, but I didn’t know how you’d take it,” she answered hurriedly.

“I understand you completely.” The specter of the living dead still dangled before my eyes. Truth be told, it wasn’t a very pleasant sight. “Is there anything else I should know, my love?”

“Did they leave?” Ga-Nor returned at a completely inopportune moment.

“Yes. They went to their rooms.” Layen was happy that this unpleasant conversation had been put on hold for a while.

“We should soon, too. Another round of shaf, Gray?”

“If you like.”

The northerner waved his hand, and the girl set down three mugs from her tray.

“I wanted to ask what your game is, but I never got the chance.” The redhead dipped his mustache into the dark beverage.

“I don’t really know what you mean.”

“How do you earn your keep? Are you a Shot?”

“No. I’m a carpenter.”

The middle-aged war dog grinned. “I guess you must be the best carpenter in the world, to be carrying so much money on you.”

“And you have sharp eyes.” My smile came out crooked.

“No. I have keen ears. I heard how it jingled in Layen’s pack. And it’s quite a lot. I wouldn’t mistake the sound a mass of sorens gives out for anything else.”

“It’s her inheritance.”

“So I thought.” He smiled openly. “An inheritance, of course. A carpenter couldn’t amass that much in his whole life.”

It was obvious that he didn’t believe us, but it didn’t matter to him who we were. This is why I love northerners—they never meddle in other people’s business.

“I’m pleased that we could…”

“Ness.” Layen called to me.

“… clarify it for you.”

“NESS!”

I cut short my blather and looked at her petulantly.

“An odd man.” A hint of alarm had slipped into her voice.

I personally didn’t see anything odd about the stranger she pointed out. He was a man like any other man. True, he was wrapped from head to toe in a cloak and he was looking around. He was clearly not from around here. He’d just walked into the inn and was now standing in the center of the room, between the tables, apparently wondering what to do next. I couldn’t make out his face, as it was hidden by his hood, but when the man turned around a bit, his cloak fell open and I saw the dull flash of armor.