Furies of Calderon (52 page)

Another Marat, a herd-bane, rose and snarled, “He speaks the words of an Aleran. The words of a coward.”

“I speak the truth,” Fidelias said. “If you are wise, young man, you will listen to the older.”

Atsurak stared at him for several moments in silence. Then he exhaled and said, “The Alerans fight as cowards. Let us force them to the trial of blood before they can prepare their spirits to hide behind. We will attack at dawn.”

Then he broke her neck, the sound sharp in the silence of the hilltop. Her eyes looked up at him in shock for a few seconds. Then went slowly out of focus and empty.

He let the dead girl’s head fall limply back onto the stone and said, to Atsurak, “Now it is over. Be in position when the sun rises.” He walked back across the circle to Aldrick, working to hide the limp.

Fidelias nodded. “Just be ready in the morning.” Without looking back, he walked, with Aldrick, back down the hill and toward the litter. Aldrick paced beside him, silent, scowling. Halfway down the hill, Fidelias’s belly rolled violently, out of nowhere, and he had to stop and squat down, weight on his injured feet, his head bowed.

Fidelias took a breath. Then another. He forced his belly back under control and said, “She was dead already, Aldrick. Chances are, she’d just seen her family or friends eaten alive. Right there in front of her. She was next. Even if we had taken her out of there in one piece, she’d seen too much. We just would have had to remove her ourselves.”

“But
you
killed her.”

“I’m ready,” Fidelias said. They started back down the hill together. “At least we got the Marat moving.” His feet still hurt horribly, but going back down the hill was easier than going up. “Get the men ready. We’ll hit the Knights at Garrison just as we planned on the way here.”

“We’re down to the fighting, then,” Aldrick said.

Fidelias nodded. “I don’t think there are any major obstacles to the mission now.”

Chapter 32

Tavi’s teeth chattered together, and he hugged himself beneath his cloak, as he and Fade were shown out of the tent they had been kept in. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold that made him shake, or the sense of raw excitement that filled him, made him eager to move and burn away the chill of the winter in motion.

“M-m-more snow,” Tavi noted, as he crunched along behind the silent form of Doroga. Great white flakes drifted down in a calm, heavy curtain. Already, the snow had gone from a thin coating of ice on the ground, the night before, to a soft, heavy carpet as deep as Tavi’s ankles. He slipped on a thin patch where the ice was barely covered, but Fade reached forward and caught his shoulder until he could regain his balance. “Great.”

Doroga turned back toward them without stopping. “It is,” he said. “The snow and the darkness may help more of the Keepers to sleep.”

“You will see,” Doroga said. He kept pacing through the snow, until he reached an enormous old bull gargant, placidly chewing its cud. Doroga went to the beast and gave no visible signal, but it knelt in any case and let him use the back of its leg to take a step up and seize the braided cord dangling from the saddle. Doroga swarmed up it easily, and then reached down to help Tavi and Fade up behind him.

Once they were mounted, the gargant hauled itself lazily to its feet, made a ponderous turn, and started rolling forward through the snow. For a time, they rode through the night in silence, and though the warmth of the beast and the riders on either side of him had chased the chill away, Tavi still shook. Excitement then. He felt his mouth stretch into a smile.

Doroga shook his head. “You do not understand the meaning of the word in this,” he said. “Fever. Poison. Injury. Pain. Even age. It has power over them all. To our people, there is nothing of greater value.”

“This is the trial of my people before The One, valley-boy. It is newly night. You will go into the Valley of Silence and return before dawn.”

Tavi strained to look over Doroga’s broad shoulders, finally resorting to planting a foot on the broad back of the gargant bull and half-standing, with Fade steadying him by his belt.

Down a long slope of land, dappled in patches of shadow next to round, ice-covered boulders, the land fell off and down as abruptly as if some enormous hand had gouged out an inverted dome from the earth. A low ridge rose all around the precipice, which was a circle that stretched so wide in the falling snow that Tavi could not see the majority of its curve or the circle’s far side. A dull, greenish light licked up at the edges of the pit from below, and as the Gargant plodded closer, Tavi could see its source.

The bottom of the pit, a great bowl gouged into the earth, was covered with a valley of trees—trees the likes of which Tavi had never seen before. They rose up, their trunks twisted and gnarled, stretching many branches each high into the air, like the reaching hands of a drowning man.

Covering the trees was the source of the light. Tavi squinted and peered, and it took his eyes a moment to sort out what he was seeing. Covering the trees was some kind of growth that gave off the faint, menacing luminescence. It seemed to cover the trees as might some kind of fungus, but rather than simply existing as a light coating of some other plant, it had grown over them in a thick, gelatinous-looking mass. As the gargant drew closer to the edge of the precipice, Tavi could see that the growth had runnels and areas that looked as though bubbles of air had been trapped beneath it, and for all the world looked like melted wax had been dripped over the surfaces of the trees, but for the desperately reaching branches high up in them, layer upon layer, until the whole resembled some fantastic, bizarre work of art. As far as he could see, in the faint light of the glowing wax, those odd trees writhed and twisted, their branches and trunks hung in festoons and swirls of the waxy growth.

At the heart of the scene stood a single, ancient tree, barren trunk lifting high, dead branches mostly worn away by time. Though there was nothing to hold to scale, Tavi thought that the spire of ancient, dead wood had to be huge.