Chains of Fate (The Fate Circle Saga Book 1) Page 20

  Lecern had tacked the horse before going to get Jalcina.

  “I don’t know about that. I know for now, we are safe and we are going to somewhere we will be safe for a time. That’s all that matters now. We’re together and everything will be all right.”

  Jalcina shook her head and mounted up behind Lecern. She didn’t say she could feel his presence on the wind and knew he was nearby or that part of her wanted to go to him and curl up against his heart.

  The horse trotted out of the courtyard and into a rough country covered by Winter headed due West toward the city of Backaran and its secrets. Marcen watched them go. He shook his head and started about his day. Either the Maker would smile on them or he wouldn’t. It was none of his concern either way.

  28

  “Hail the gate.”

  The midday sun hung high but provided little warmth to the men in armor clustered before the gate of the small encampment.

  “Who are you and from where do you come?”

  “We are survivors of Kerlan seeking shelter and safety. Please.”

  “Kerlan?” The gate was opened just enough to allow one man to exit. Marcen looked at the armored group and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a long way from home then.”

  “So we are, but we fought at the very gates, only to have to slink away in the night. We only seek a place of shelter. We have food we can barter. The hunting was good last night.”

  Tarlick spoke for the group as Vad’Alvarn kept his face largely hidden further back.

  “Give up your weapons and you’ll be allowed in long enough to barter for supplies and to have a dry place to sleep at least one night,” Marcen said.

  As the group entered, Marcen watched each of them closely, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. They rode past him, most of them touching fingers to their foreheads in deference to his position.

  Except one toward the center who kept his head lowered with his hood pulled up.

  “Stay, rider.”

  The group was gathered in the courtyard, two already dismounting.

  “What of your friend?”

  “His face is badly scarred and only one of his eyes works in dim light. He escaped with his life but not his looks.” Tarlick stepped between Marcen and Vad’Alvarn.

  “Will he not show some pride in his work? To know he survived against such an opponent, he ought to wear his scars proudly.”

  “I have no pride in surviving where others died. Nobler to lie a corpse on the battlefield protecting all that was our own than to slink away a survivor.” He slumped further in his saddle but made no attempt to dismount.

  “Hush with that crazy talk, Nads, old man. You survive to fight another day and perhaps even see the Usurper fail.”

  “I have to insist. He will have to show his face to be known as a friend of us, or he will wait outside the gate until you’ve done your business and you’ll go.”

  A dozen men had come from within the fort while the riders were speaking.

  “Tarlick,” Vad’Alvarn said. His mouth was quite nearly at the man’s ear.

  “Yes, Nads?”

  “Slaughter them but leave the old man and my woman alive.”

  “Of course.”

  It was quick work. Trained lifetime soldiers versus those who had gone soft as bandits raiding against the unsuspecting. Soon Marcen knelt in the courtyard staring up into the face of Vad’Alvarn where he sat on his horse.

  “She was here. Where is she?”

  “She was right; you didn’t leave with the army.”

  “Answer me.”

  “She’s gone beyond your reach.”

  “She is not dead; so she remains within my reach, old man. Where is she?”

  “Gone from here. Find her yourself.” Marcen’s wounds bleed onto the trampled gray snow. He spit more blood directly into the snow before the king, his final gesture of defiance. The men gathered nearby did nothing, faces like stone. Faces like the king’s.

  When Vad’Alvarn turned Kahn, Tarlick notched an arrow in his bow. The monarch waved him to a stop.

  “Leave him alive. Let him carry his tale for as long as the world lets him live.”

  “I’ll live longer than you.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Mount.”

  To a man, they obeyed, leaving Marcen injured where he knelt. They rode away leaving behind a house of ghosts and a single man who would soon join those already gone.

  29

  Staring down into the grand gorge raising around and above Backaran, Jaclina shuddered. The three days of deprivation: frozen scant food, windburned skin, parched tongue suddenly seemed nothing before the shadows of that place. Backaran stared up from its place seemingly half buried at the bottom of the gorge. The rock of the gorge was deep brown, but the city itself was black. It seemed to claw its way up out of the ground and grope at the sky above it with spindly fingers. A thousand burning eyes, lamps no doubt in windows, glared at those who dared to come near. Yet worst was the sound. It was a murmur where she stood, but there, the sound of something half-moaning and half-gibbering as if it cannot decide on how its panic should be displayed. She wanted to cover her ears against it. Shaking her head, she turned back to Lecern where he stood with the rearing horse.

  As soon as they stepped into the gorge itself, the horse had reared up, nearly throwing them both to the ground. Jalcina had slipped off and only narrowly missed being kicked when the creature gave way to its own fright. Now Lecern had it firmly by the bridle, but its eyes rolled hard in its head. It would have nothing to do with this place.

  Nor would any other creature. Jalcina made herself listen for something, anything, beyond that strange panic sound. Nothing. As if all the world were paralyzed by that horrid noise. Or driven to repeat it.

  “We should let it go.”

  “Something will eat it,” Lecern countered. He stroked the animal in attempt to soothe it. It nipped at his hand.

  “We can’t take it with us. So we either release it or accept it has better sense than we do and give up this mad plan.”

  “You were the one who said we should come here in hopes it might have a way to kill him.”

  “That was before I was here. Before I realized this place is horrible. The stories—“

  Her voice slipped away as the noise drilled deeper into her ears. Now she clapped her hands over them. Then shut her eyes as if they were another way for the sound to get in.

  “We need to leave here.”

  She stiffened at the sudden feeling of arms around her when Lecern moved to cradle her against his chest. The horse ran, no longer held from its wanted escape.

  “We need to leave here,” she repeated.

  “There isn’t anywhere else we can go now. Maybe it isn’t as bad once we’re in the city.”

  He guided her movements and they walked. Over moments, she uncurled and opened her eyes. Miles away, crouched like a spider in a hole, Backaran waited screaming and clawing at the sky. Jalcina shuddered. The stories said the city was mad, and so were all its inhabitants. Would they be mad before they could escape? The keening exclaimed: yes.

  The city of Backaran had nothing remotely resembling a wall. There was no need. No one came close who did not seek entry for their own reasons and those within; well, they never had any reason to leave. The portal of entry however was a tall place, nearly oval, the peak at the top set with a skull gem the size of a man’s torso. The skull gaped at them with its empty eyes somehow amused at the pair, its jaw opened.

  Jalcina imagined it was from that mouth alone came the wordless shriek she had been hearing since they entered the gorge.

  They stepped into the shadow of the arch and kept going. Now the world was quiet, the keening gone, erased. In the true shadows of the city, there were the sounds of people, though she saw none of them yet. However, there were people. It was not wholly populated by ghosts as the story told.

  Beyond the arch, the city began in earnest, buildings springing up ma
de of the same dully glittering black rock. Through a doorway, or maybe a window, light slipped into the street, a pale yellow streak betraying life.

  “We need to find a place to sleep for the night.”

  Jalcina glanced sharply at Lecern. He had stopped a few feet behind her and seemed to be enthralled by the strip of light in the street. He hung his head to stare at it.

  “Are you all right?”

  He brought his face up and grinned.

  “Of course, but we still need to find a place to sleep and more food. What we have won’t keep us both much longer.”

  His eyes were wrong. His face said amusement, his eyes did not. Jalcina watched as he shifted the pack on his shoulders and then started walking again. Once they were close, he slipped an arm around her.

  “We’ll be safe here.”

  Uneasy, she once again let him lead her.

  The dark streets of Backaran crowded close as they moved deeper in, leaving behind the gorge and its wail for the silent but living streets of the mad city where they would, hopefully, find true safety at least for a time.

  It was hours before Jalcina realized there was no sun. Of course, it should have already set, but there also was no night. When she gazed up into the sky, there were no stars to comfort. No moon to count the time by. Nothing. It was as if the city had grown an unseen shell to block it all away. They had found a market, or at least what would be a market during what was day there. For now it was nearly deserted, stalls locked up, tiny worlds onto themselves. That was when they saw the dog.

  What lumbered into the square was a dog. Or so her eyes labeled it. It limped along, three of its legs dragging the fourth. Even across the square, she knew it was large, perhaps large enough to stand face to face with the horse they’d lost at the gorge mouth. Its snout was short but she could see one of its teeth protruding, carved and wicked. Frozen, they watched it.

  Another trotted into the space after it, brushed close to the first, then when it nipped, danced away. The second was slightly smaller and it barked at its companion before turning to regard the two of them with intelligent eyes. Then it charged.

  Jalcina and Lecern twirled, clumsy dancers, and ran. The dog behind them howled and the sounds of running came from other directions as well. The close streets only seemed closer as they went one way then another, seemingly only a step ahead of snapping jaws. At one turn, another set of jaws snapped at them, they skirted away down another street.

  Jalcina felt her legs as they started to give. Her lungs burned as they worked like bellows. With a stumble, she fell forward onto the stones, Lecern yanking her up before she could even truly feel the pain of landing. The dogs were close. What had been one had become a pack.

  The pair burst from a narrow street, smelling of cooking something, and into a plaza. Across the plaza was space to disappear back into the city, at the head a grand building, the largest they had seen yet. Neither of them cared to see it. Only glancing back to see where their pursuit was. It was everywhere. They were ringed in by the dog creatures who now circled without coming any closer, a ring of death made of fur and teeth.

  A whistle sliced the air followed by a great boom to shake the foundations of the world. The sounds hurt. Lecern fell to his knees and without thinking, Jalcina moved to protect him from the creatures just out of arm’s reach. In her pained chest, another fire began to burn as she stared down those who dared to menace them.

  One hand balled into a fist.

  A man glided into view. He wore a scarlet robe which burst in the vision after all the black. On his head was a hair so white it made him appear ghostly. He stopped at the edge of the circle and the dogs parted for him, sitting obediently like the kennel trained ones back in Sartol.

  “My Queen would see you.” His voice was pitched low and with him so close, she could see his eyes were closed. No, not closed, sewn shut. The tiny stitches black x’s at the edges of his eyelids.

  “What if we wish to decline the invitation?”

  “The dogs will eat you. She’s the only reason they haven’t.”

  He moved to go. The circle closed again. Each animal standing to the ready. Even the lame one from the market place was there, his jaws dripping in anticipation.

  “Wait. We will come.”

  “A wise choice. Follow me.”

  He continued forward. The dogs sat without a word of command, letting the pair pass. Jalcina passed close enough to feel the breath of one of them on her shoulder. It was hot like consuming fire. She didn’t think about it anymore as they headed toward the Queen’s palace.

  The walls within the first hall swam with colors. Greens, blues, reds, all shades competing for space along the narrow walkway. The stone gave of its own light in places, adding to the confusion. The blind man strode forward, his walk confident and easy. As they walked, a great shadow passed like a cloud through the colors. It paused, peeking at them before continuing on.

  “You intrigue him,” the man said.

  “Him?”

  “Backaran. You intrigue him, returning now. Your paramour at your heels.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And it is not my place to explain it.”

  How far they had gone or where they walked, Jalcina didn’t know. She held to Lecern and kept her eyes on the man ahead of them. The walls were hard to watch and the shadow circled back a number of times. Enough times she wondered what would happen when it was no longer merely ‘intrigued’.

  The throne room was black shot through with bands of silver. The throne at one end unoccupied though it sat high enough to see the entire room. The throne was scarlet, like the man’s robe. The floor was covered with a fog. The fog curled and gripped the skin, driving a chill up the spine. It swept upward around the man, engulfing him, and he chuckled.

  “She comes.”

  There was no door beyond the one they entered from, but she appeared all the same, stepping out from a wall first a darkness then a woman. Her skin was as if she were carved from the same stone of Backaran itself, her hair the color of copper flame. It cascaded down her back and pooled on the floor, trailing her in streams and rivers of metal. The fog greeted her in rising waves and she soothed it back with hands too long for human. Calm eyes, silver like the bands around the throne room, regarded them. Wordless she moved across the room and settled herself on the throne. The stones of the room, the fog, the world sighed with her there, her hands resting on its arms.

  “Leave us.”

  Barely hinted but carried and echoed until the command came from the stone.

  The man bowed, stepped past the pair, and left the room. Jalcina’s last sight of him was him closing the door. The rattle of a key echoed in the room.

  “Welcome, once again, Leviana of the Burning Island.”

  “Who are you addressing?” Lecern found his voice and his strength before Jalcina. He strode toward the center of the room, ignoring the hiss coming from all directions. “There is no one of the Burning Island here.”

  The Queen stroked the throne with her long fingers, the sound like moving velvet overlying the hiss until it stopped. Then she spoke again.

  “Fools are best silent. Else they find themselves without voices.”

  “Why have you brought us here?” Lecern straightened to his full height as he addressed her again.

  “Why have you come here?” The Queen countered. Her voice was still no more than a light scraping. “You,” she pointed at Lecern with one long finger. “Seek shelter. But she, what does she seek?” When the Queen flicked her eyes to Jalcina, they were no longer silver but glimmering red.

  Jalcina shivered; a chill rising in her body as the fog curled around her again as if to cradle her. Behind the throne was the shadow, now outlined in silver, settled like a great bird. The wings wrapped around the throne and the woman upon it, sheltering her.

  When Lecern moved to put his arms around her again, Jalcina put up one hand to ward him off.

  “I want to kno
w how to destroy him.” The words spilled from her mouth over a thundering heart.

  The Queen laughed.

  “Destroy him?”

  Her laughter grew and echoed, multiple voices joining in as if an invisible court shared in her amusement. Jalcina could almost see their faces in the mist, the faithful retainers of this woman who was more a living statue than any woman.

  “He was once a man and can die, but you can no more destroy him than you can escape him.”

  She leaned back on her throne and waved her fingers in the air. A long stick appeared in her right hand and a bowl on the right arm of the throne. When she brought the stick to her lips the end flared, deepening the shadows of her face for an instant. Then a new smoke mingled with the fog of the throne room bringing with it a sweet smell liked cooked sugar and cinnamon.

  “Even now, no doubt, he seeks you. Aware your breath continues.”

  She tapped out her smoke, ashes making stars in the air before they landed in the bowl.

  “But you know this even now. You dream of the dragon.”

  “No.”

  “Lying does not become you.” The room magnified the Queen’s distaste until Jalcina was shivering once again. “Or perhaps you are simply afraid to admit it before this one who has given you his heart and will give you his life though you no longer truly want either.”

  Jalcina’s eyes moved to Lecern, her ears prepared for him to renounce such a claim. Silence. Blinking she touched him. His skin still moved like flesh but his open eyes stared at nothing.

  “He is a fool. And of no interest to me. A statue he remains until I wish it otherwise.”

  “Turn him back, please.”

  “When it pleases me. You will remain here. The one who seeks you comes apace and my beloved would speak with him.”

  The doors opened and the blind man stood in the gaping mouth of the doorway, his head bowed as though in prayer.

  “She has journeyed far. Give her a place to rest.”

  “But Lecern?” Jalcina had taken her eyes off him when the doors opened and turning back, he was gone. “Lecern!”