The Cult of Sutek (26 page)

Rondel’s voice droned out the words in a low tone.

“What was that?” she asked.

He gave her a look. “You mean you’re interested?”

“Considering the subject matter, yes.”

“It’s part of an old song. It’s well known among my people,” said Jahi with a shiver. “One used to scare little children from venturing off on their own.”

Rondel snorted. “I’ve scared more than little children with that tale. Before my unfortunate imprisonment I made more than one noble woman faint and several men wet themselves in fright.” He sighed. “Speaking the words just doesn’t hold the same weight as a lute-accompanied voice.”

“How long is this song?” asked Andrasta.

“Pretty long. It tells of a journey through The Blood Forest,” said Jahi.

“Fifty-nine verses,” added Rondel. “Pretty challenging melody now that I think of it.” Rondel’s eyes had glazed over, his lips moving without a sound as if he sang the song to himself.

“Unbelievable,” she cursed.

He blinked. “What?”

“The song. You basically have a guide on what we’re likely to run into and you’ve only brought it up now. That’s not like you.”

“Well, it’s just a song. A story. Who’s to say that any of it is true?”

“Considering how little we know, it’d be safe to assume it is.”

Rondel nodded. “Good point.”

“All right then,” said Jahi. “Are we going to leave while we still have a few hours of daylight left?”

“No,” said Andrasta. “If we’re going to assume there’s truth to the song’s lyrics, then we shouldn’t start now. The last thing I want to do is get caught facing something we’ve had no warning about.”

Rondel closed his eyes, head slowly bobbing with each word his mouth formed.

“Two days ride through the forest you go,
    
No sign of friend, only foe.
    
Beware those who are afraid of night.
    
Inside the forest you’ll find no light.
    
Though the trees are alive,
    
None will help you survive.”

Rondel opened his eyes when he finished.

“So two days through The Blood Forest,” said Jahi. “Then we should definitely leave now then. The sooner we get through the other side, the better.”

Andrasta shook her head, having understood the gist of the lines. “No. We set up camp here and get to sleep early.”

“Why?” demanded Jahi.

“Try to set one of the trees on fire.”

Jahi gave Rondel a look.

“Humor her.”

Jahi formed a ball of fire in his hand. It shot toward the edge of the forest into the tree closest to them. Smoke hung in the air, but the fire dissipated immediately.

Quicker than I thought.

“That’s impossible,” he whispered.

“Yet it happened,” said Rondel. “And with that simple exercise, you’ve proven that at least part of the song is true. The trees are alive but they will not help us fend off the darkness. Therefore, we should rest now because I doubt we’ll get much sleep once inside.”

“A two day journey with no way to build a fire,” muttered Jahi. “I hate this place already.”

“With a name like The Blood Forest, I don’t think it was ever meant to be a pleasant destination spot,” said Rondel.

Always with the jokes.

Andrasta sighed. “Start reciting that song. I want to hear it through as many times as possible before you get to sleep.”

Rondel cleared his throat and began.

* * *

Early the next morning, Jahi followed Andrasta into the forest. It wasn’t an easy task with their mounts fighting them. Jahi made sure to keep a hand tight on the reins in case his horse tried to throw him.

One moment, the yellow light of a rising sun shone down on him, the next he was blanketed in a shroud of gray. Somehow the crimson leaves of the forest’s trees forbade even the smallest ray from peeking through its dense canopy. He squinted into the gloom, an uneasy feeling creeping over him. The feeling worsened with each breath.

Just a few feet behind him, insects chirped and swallows sang while seeking their breakfasts. Inside The Blood Forest, he heard none of those sounds. In fact, he heard nothing except the echoing clomp of hooves on the tightly packed earth.

A ball of fire took shape in the palm of his hand. The comfort the glow brought eased the tension in his shoulders he hadn’t realized was there before.

Who needs a torch anyway?
he thought, recalling from yesterday that the trees would not burn.

Andrasta spun as the fire in his hand brightened. “What are you doing?”

“Giving us more light.”

“Does that weaken you?”

Jahi frowned. “A little.”

“Then stop.”

“But it’s hard to see anything.”

“Hard, but not impossible. Our eyes will adjust. You heard the lyrics to the song. Wouldn’t you rather have your full strength if we have to face any of the things mentioned?”

A cold sweat washed over him. The fire in his hand dissipated, sending a small wisp of smoke into the air.

She turned back around and edged her mount forward.

The tension in Jahi’s shoulders returned, and with it, a growing knot in his stomach. It moaned with a low gurgle.

Andrasta kept a steady pace, following the left most of several clearly defined paths visible. According to the song, “a traveler wanting to choose the right path must always make the wrong choice.” Jahi was proud of himself for figuring out that line.

The forest held little in the way of shrubbery. A few sickly plants, mostly bare, sat near the edge of their path. On the rare occasion, scraggly vines wrapped themselves around dense trees of white bark bordering the road. Trampled, black earth and thick, protruding roots rising up like bones from the ground made up most of the forest’s floor.

Is that where the line about bones comes from?
He swallowed.
I can only hope.

The forest produced odd, out of place scents—a slight odor of copper like freshly spilled blood, rot from a gangrenous wound, and puss from a bursting blister.

But still no sound.

Despite the underlying sense of dread that they would find death around the next bend, one of the worst parts of their journey related to what felt like an absence of time. He estimated they had been traveling for most of the day, yet the dim gray light hadn’t brightened in the slightest.

Does that mean it won’t darken at night? Not likely.

“Gods, I hate this place,” he muttered from behind a tree while tying his trousers after relieving himself. It was the third time they had stopped since morning.

“Who wouldn’t?” snorted Rondel over by the horses.

Jahi looked up, not realizing he had spoken loud enough to be heard. “You’d think that someone would have destroyed this place by now.”

“We saw yesterday it can’t be burned.”

Jahi shrugged. “Maybe the flames need to be stronger. Hire a sorcerer with enough power, and I’m sure they could figure it out.” He paused. “Really, you don’t have to burn it. Just chop it all down.”

A faint scratching sound tickled Jahi’s ears. He looked to Andrasta who stood by another tree, dagger in hand. The sharp edge of her blade left a small gouge in the bark. Black sap oozed out of the wound, covering the hole. Within a couple breaths, there was no sign of damage.

“Amazing,” whispered Rondel. “The tree healed itself faster than it took you to make the mark.”

Andrasta grunted. “Maybe someone tried to chop this place down before, but realized it was pointless.”

“Well, I wish someone would think of something. This place serves no good purpose,” said Jahi.

“Not entirely true,” Rondel said. “Without The Blood Forest,
Laughter in Death
would have never been written. And that would be our loss.”

“I disagree. The song is only meant to scare the listener, not entertain them.”

“Sometimes people want to be frightened. Didn’t you ever ask your sister to tell you a scary story?”

Jahi scowled. “All right. But you have to at least admit that the name of the song is dumb. I mean what’s so funny about dying? Where did the title even come from?”

A faint cackle sounded to their right, a single voice piercing the quiet of the forest. They all whipped their heads in that direction. A screeching peel of amusement ripped through the air to their left. Hoots of delight permeated from behind them. More voices joined the others until the entire forest resonated with glee.

The horses panicked, and despite their best efforts to hold the reins and even mount the creatures, all three were thrown back as the animals ran back down the path they had come.

The mocking laughter stopped.

“Their merriment will pierce you down to your bones.
    
In the silence that follows, never has a man felt so alone.”

Rondel’s whispered voice sent a shiver up Jahi’s spine. “
Laughter in Death
seems pretty fitting to me.”

Jahi swallowed, swiveling his head, looking for the first sign of whatever had created the awful noise. “What do we do?”

“Fire would be good,” came Andrasta’s calm voice.

A ball of flame formed in each of Jahi’s hands.

A small, green blur the size of a cat flew past Jahi’s face on its way to Andrasta. Before he could shout a warning, the woman pivoted. Two small thumps followed. The remains of the blur lay on the forest floor, half at Andrasta’s feet, half at Rondel’s while black ichor poured from the wounds.

Gods, I barely saw her sword come up.

Rondel kicked at the top half of the creature by his foot. “Rackals. Ugly little suckers.”

Jahi agreed. The creature had the skin and color of a tree frog, but the size and shape of a hairless monkey without the tail. With another nudge of the boot, Rondel rolled it over.

The former minstrel cursed. “Does something that small really need a mouth that big? And look at the teeth. . . .”

Andrasta spat. “There’ll be more.”

A sound that reminded Jahi of little feet pounding the earth began. With it came high-pitched snarls, chattering teeth, and renewed laughter.

Jahi realized he still had a ball of fire in his hand. He threw it into the darkness where he heard the loudest of the noises. It struck the earth, burning little of the underbrush, but providing enough light to see the hundreds of pea-green figures closing fast on them. Quickly he sent balls of fire in every direction, looking for a way out. However, he was met with similar results.

Panic washed over him as he struggled to find air.

“Jahi,” yelled Andrasta. He turned to her, expecting some form of berating. “Remember. Think of Dendera.”

As soon as he heard his sister’s name, Jahi’s breathing calmed. Fire reformed in his hands.

Rondel touched his arms. “No. Earth. Bury the things.”

Jahi nodded, the flames dissipated. He focused on the ground just in front of the creatures closing in on them. Down he drove invisible hands, quickly pulling apart the earth before withdrawing and repeating the process over and over.

Dozens of creatures fell headlong into the parting dirt, their maniacal laughter turning into fearful screams. The creatures behind the first wave had enough time to clear the gaping holes with giant leaps. Some chose not to chance the ground any longer and continued toward them through the trees, swinging limb to limb.

A yank of his arm jerked him to the side. “Good. Now, we fight back to back,” said Andrasta.

If time had gone slow to Jahi before, it felt like it lost all meaning with flashes of his young life flying across his vision. An image of Dendera’s kind face rested at the front of his mind. He clenched his jaw and focused.

In one hand Jahi created a ball of flame, in the other his invisible fingers lifted rocks from the ground. He flung both fire and rock forward, immediately readying the next spell. A satisfied smile formed on his face as rocks knocked the creatures backward or zipped right through their small bodies, black ichor gushing out in fountains. Unlike the trees, his fire spells worked on the creatures and their skin crackled from the heat.

The stench of the burning rackals caused him to gag.

Behind him, grunts, curses, and wet hacks mixed with the continuing laughter and snarls of the creatures. He wanted to turn to see how Rondel and Andrasta fared, but he knew the second he did, it would be a mistake.

I’ll know they failed when I feel the teeth anyway.

Another wave of the creatures approached. Jahi decided to hold off on another attack in order to draw them in, canting the spell he used against Andrasta when creating a barrier of fire.

Before he finished the spell, the rackals came to a stumbling halt, wheeled, and ran, eyes wide with terror.

Jahi blinked and surveyed the area behind him. He sighed in relief as Andrasta and Rondel stood among dozens of mutilated green bodies, covered in black gore.

I guess it pays to attack from a distance in more than one way.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They looked scared,” said Andrasta, confused.

“Of course,” said Rondel, huffing. “They realized they were no match for us. You know, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Andrasta gestured. “You’re bleeding.”

Rondel swore, turning his arm and exposing a line of red near his elbow. “Little freaks. I don’t think it’s too bad.”

A low, faint rumble sounded, like a distant thunder that reverberated through the air.

“Crap,” said Rondel, face going slack.

“What?” asked Andrasta.

“I just remembered the next line of the song. I don’t think we scared the rackals.” He repeated the verse.

“After the rackals have their fun,
    
Ammit will see that all is done.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Andrasta.

“Probably that we were wrong last night when we thought about that verse,” said Jahi. “Ammit is symbolic of death so we assumed that line meant the rackals would have their fun and then kill their prey. But he is also called “the destroyer.” What if it really meant the rackals will have their turn with whatever they’re hunting and then something will come afterward to destroy anything left over.”