* * *
For the next few days while they skirted the Jacuruku north coast, Traveller lay at the bow gripped in a fever of sweats and shuddering chills. Ereko guided the Kite while Kyle and the Lost brothers slept in turns. The third night Traveller suddenly cried out, weeping in-consolably, his body wrenched with the violence of his convulsions. Kyle went to the Thel Akai's side. ‘What did they do to him, those mages?’
Ereko was surprised. Under their broad bone ridge, his argent eyes flicked to Kyle, smiled their reassurance, then returned to scanning the shore. ‘They? Nothing. He carries his illness with him. It has been whispering to him all these months. I have seen it growing upon him day by day. Those fools with their interference have weakened him and now he feels its pull keenly.’
‘You cannot cure it?’
A shake of his shaggy head. ‘You have not guessed, Kyle? It is the sword he carries. That is not a blade meant for any human, no matter who. It brings with it the memories of terrible things. Bloodshed, yes. But much worse – acts of cruelty and of soul-corroding anguish. It was forged ages ago by the one known as the Son of Darkness, Anomandaris. Know you of him?’
‘Yes. We have legends of him. Stories of the Moon itself floating overhead and dragons soaring.’ Those fireside tales no longer sounded so incredible to Kyle.
‘It has held many names over the ages. Anger. Rage. Vengeance. Of them all, he chose for himself vengeance. A choice we should perhaps be grateful for. Now that choice eats at him like acid. I pray it will not taint his spirit.’
Kyle watched the man, curled up under a cloak, hands clenched in his sweat-slick hair, his face hidden behind his forearms. ‘Then we should take it from him.’
The giant grasped Kyle's upper arm in his massive grip. ‘No. You mustn't. He would strike without thought. Would you add yet another burden to his conscience?’
‘Then what can we do?’
Without turning his head, Ereko slid his bright gaze to Kyle in a strange sort of sideways regard. He bared his tusk-like teeth in a one-sided grin. ‘You can pray, Kyle.’
Kyle flinched away. Pray? Is there so little hope? He moved off to lie down next to the Lost brothers wrapped in cloaks and blankets. Pray? To who? He thought of the bewildering array of Gods, spirits and heroes he'd heard mentioned since leaving Bael lands. None appealed to him. That left his old guardian and tribal ancestral spirits going back all the way to their legendary progenitor, Father Wind. Perhaps that very entity taken from him by the very company he joined? Yet, as time has passed, it all seemed so unreal to him.
The gentle night waves rocked the Kite, and the susurration of the nearby surf whispered rhythmically. Kyle eventually did slip into an uneasy sleep. He repeated his people's ancient invocation:
Great All Father,
Whose breath cleanses, brings life,
Guide me. Show me my path.
Kyle awoke, spluttering and coughing on a mouthful of smoke. He lay in a tent made of roughly sewn hides. But not a tent like the one he'd recently slept in; this one was cramped and dark, its ceiling low. A hunched figure, a man or a woman, occupied half the sagging quarters. A brazier next to the occupant sent out gouts of smoke that made Kyle's eyes water and his breath catch in his throat. Outside, a strong wind blew, gusting at the sides of the frail construction. The figure waved a hand wrapped in tatters of cloth. Its shape was unnervingly strange and distorted. ‘Apologies for the poor domestic arrangements. Recent setbacks have reduced my circumstances.’
‘Where am I? Where is everyone?’
‘You are not so far away from your ship and your friends, Kyle.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Who am I?’ The shape rocked back and forth, cackling. ‘A friend, of course. One who has, how shall I put it – intervened – to help.’
‘Help?’
‘Yes. Help you. Whereas those you erroneously pray to ignore your pleas, I, however, am always responsive.’
Kyle attempted to wave the choking fumes from his face. ‘How did I get here?’
A great gust of wind kicked the frail tent and the figure hissed indistinct mouthings under its breath. ‘Never mind that, Kyle. Time is pressing. Your friend is ill. It lies within my power to ease his sufferings. What say you? For a small price I will sooth his misery, calm his nightmares. Do you not wish to see him revive?’
‘Yes, of course – but what price?’
‘Oh, nothing awful, I assure you. Nothing like your blood or your spirit or anything absurd like that. No. However, I am interested in that sword you carry. It has unusual characteristics. You could say I have an interest in uncommon weapons.’ The arms opened in a shrug. ‘There you have it. Nothing unreasonable. Surely you do not value this blade above your friend's health and recovery?’
Kyle blinked to clear his blurring vision, coughed into a fist. ‘No, of course not. But why—’
A wind slammed the tent with a thundering boom, completely flattening one side. The figure pressed both hands against the bulging hides, snarling, ‘No! I am master here! Be gone!’
A woman's voice came cutting through the howling wind then. It rose and fell as if calling from a great distance. Kyle cocked his head, straining to listen. ‘You are not the master here. Chained One,’ the voice seemed to scold. ‘Come, Kyle. Come away.’
Unable to stand, Kyle crawled on his hands and knees towards the entry. ‘You!’ the figure roared. ‘How dare you! There will be retribution! I will remember this!’ Kyle reached the flap, scrabbled under it. ‘Wait! I can tell you what you carry – don't you want to know? Aren't you curious? How you've been betrayed? Used?’
‘Speak not of using others, great deceiver,’ the voice answered.
On his elbows, Kyle pulled himself out from under the hide into the night to find himself before the bare feet of a woman. She stood above him, her pale slim body wrapped in loose gossamer scarves the colour of darkest night that whipped sinuous in the wind. The long veil over her face flicked like a banner and her black hair lashed about her face. She turned and walked away.
‘And you! Speak not of deception^ was the last thing Kyle heard spat from within the tent.
Stumbling, crawling, he followed the woman. Broken wood and tatters of cloth littered the beach; it looked as though a shipwreck had crashed ashore. None of it seemed to obstruct the woman yet Kyle had to pick his way carefully. At one point the wind brought a long-drawn-out mournful howling like that of a hound. The woman's head snapped aside, to the north, and she raised a pale languid hand as if waving something away, then continued on. Kyle joined her far down the strand, the surf licking his sandals. ‘Where am I?’ he gasped.
Back to him, scanning the sea's starry horizon, she said, ‘It is a dream, Kyle. Only a dream. Nothing more.’ She turned her oval, achingly beautiful, veiled face to him. ‘And you are haunted.’
‘By you?’
A teasing smile; a cool hand at his brow. ‘Among others,’ and she gestured down the beach. Kyle squinted – there, through the curtains of blowing sand, a figure, shouting, a hand at his mouth. An old man, one-handed …
‘Stoop! Yes, I see you! What? What is it?’
‘He was banished to Hood's most distant Paths,’ the woman explained. ‘Yet not utterly, for the Vow holds him still in bindings that cannot be broken. And so he is caught between Realms. Cast away yet linked to you.’
‘To me?’
‘Yes. He chose you to speak to – as is the custom among the fallen Avowed. Their “Brethren” I believe they are named.’
Brethren. So, that is who they are.
She extended a naked arm, pointed a long finger out to the expanse of water. ‘And there you are.’
Kyle squinted out to the dark sea. Far out, past the phosphor glow of breakers at a reef, was the pale patch of a sail passing east to west. ‘What? Is that me?’
His vision blurred and he fell to his knees. ‘Sleep now, soldier,’ the Goddess whispered, and he pitched forward into the surf. Water splashed his face.
‘Kyle? Kyle!’ He opened his eyes: Ereko's anxious face loomed above him, his long stringy hair hanging down. The giant shook water from his hand. ‘How are you now, lad?’
Kyle wiped his wet cold face, blinking. ‘Fine, fine. What is it? What happened?’
‘What happened?’ Pain clenched Ereko's brow and looked away. ‘What happened was my fault. I am sorry. It was … more perilous … than I imagined. But it turned out well in the end. My Lady won't thank me for it, though.’
‘Who was that thing?’
‘That was the poison corrupting the Warrens, Kyle, and more. The Outsider. Some call him the Chained God, others the Crippled God, for he, or it, is broken, shattered. His presence here has infected this land.’
‘He seemed … sick.’
‘We are no doubt a sickness to him – for he is from elsewhere. He was brought here unwillingly, and now suffers eternally. Myself, I pity his plight.‘ Ereko took Kyle's arm in his huge hand, his eyes searching. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle. I did not expect such a strong reaction from all involved. But it forced her to act and now all is well. It is Traveller. He's awake, and he's asking for you.’ Ereko handed him a skin of water. Kyle gulped it down then crab-walked hunched to the bow. Traveller sat with the Lost brothers, propped up against the bow, a blanket at his shoulders. His long dark hair was plastered across his brow, hung lank about the blanket. He appeared exhausted but his eyes were sharp and clear. Kyle squatted in front of him.
‘How are you?’ the man asked.
‘How am J? Fine. What about you?’
Traveller looked past him to the stern where Ereko watched. ‘I am fine now as well,‘ he said, his eyes on the Thel Akai. ‘They were just dreams. Bad dreams. I see that now.’ He offered Kyle a hand; Kyle took it and he squeezed. ‘My thanks.’
‘Thanks? For what?’
‘For your patience. Your faith.’
Confused, Kyle shrugged. He moved to leave but Traveller held his hand. ‘We are close now. Very close. Whatever happens do not interfere. This is between Ereko and me. Yes?’
Kyle shrugged again. ‘Certainly.’
‘Thank you.’ He released Kyle's hand.
Still confused, Kyle headed back to his blanket. Stalker had moved to lie there, an arm over his face. ‘Maybe we can all get back to sleep now,’ the man grumbled. Kyle looked to Ereko who winked.
The next morning saw a coast of ruins. Sun-bleached pillars of cyclopean stones stood canted amid dunes. Jetties of stone lay submerged just visible beneath the clear cerulean surface, overgrown by coral and seaweed. Inland, the remains of an immense dome of blindingly white stone hung half collapsed at an angle. Next to Ereko, Kyle peeled one of the local fruits. He looked to the giant who nodded. The Dolmans of Tien. We are close. Close to many things.’
After the ruins of the ancient city they came to where a smooth plain of hard wind-scoured sands met the coast. Here all remains of occupation ended and menhirs, or stone pillars, stood, isolated and distinct. Coming around the headland of a bay Kyle saw that the menhirs continued on in even more numbers, like a forest of stone, for as far as he could see inland. The Dolmans,’ Ereko said. He swung the tiller for the shore.
‘And K'azz?’
‘From what you have told me I imagine he must be imprisoned within one of these.’
Kyle stared. Imprisoned within one of these? ‘But there's thousands of them!’
‘Yes.’
‘How will we even know where to begin?’
Ereko tapped Kyle as lightly as he could on the back, rocking him. ‘Do not despair, lad, we'll know.’
A collection of ramshackle huts occupied the beach whose ragged inhabitants stood staring, too beaten down or famished even to run. Jumping ashore, Traveller adjusted his hauberk beneath his salt-stained leathers, drew the mottled magenta blade a hand's breadth from its black wooden sheath and slammed it home. Before the man turned away Kyle glimpsed a clenched ache on his features that made him wince. Having secured the Kite, Ereko tried speaking with a few of the cringing fisher-folk but quickly abandoned the effort.
‘They know nothing,’ he told them. The interior, the Dolmans, are just sources of terror for them. They have turned their backs upon them.’
‘What do we do then?’ Kyle asked, unable to keep an edge of irritation from his voice.
His back to them, Traveller said, ‘We will follow Ereko.’
Stalker, at Kyle's side, nodded silent assent. He signed to the brothers, who checked their blades then jogged off to the right and left. ‘I'll bring up the rear.’
Kyle was surprised. ‘Shouldn't you—’
‘Walk with me, Kyle,’ Traveller invited.
Smiling his reassurance to Kyle, Ereko set off ahead. Traveller handed Kyle a strip of smoked fish taken from the bundles supplied by Jhest. He took a bite and handed it back as they walked.
The pillars were built of stones carved to sit one atop the other, diminishing smoothly on six facets to a blunt tip just taller than Ereko himself. They stood some five paces apart in immensely long rows running east-west and north-south. Looking carefully Kyle could discern a curve to the east-west rows, as if they described a series of nested arcs, or vast circles. ‘What is this?’ he asked of Traveller.
Ereko answered, ‘A cemetery, mainly. However, it served many other functions for those who built it. Ritual centre, timepiece, observatory, calendar, temple and prison.’
‘Did your people build it?’
‘Goddess, no, Kyle. We were not builders. No, this was raised ages ago by a people long gone. Humans, like yourself, of a close lineage.’
‘You have been here before?’
The Thel Akai glanced back, a smile of amusement at his lips. ‘No.’
‘Then where are you leading us?’
A shrug of the massive shoulders. ‘To the centre. I find that the centre is often a good place to start.’
‘Do not worry,’ Traveller said, also smiling at Kyle's discomfort. ‘Ereko knows what he is doing. Can you say the same?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I gather you intend to try to rescue or release this Prince K'azz D'Avore, commander of the Crimson Guard. Do you think that wise?’
‘Wise?’
The man's dark-blue eyes watched him sideways, gauging. His beard of silver and black bristles gave him a grave, priestly look. ‘Yes.’
‘The Guard's become a band of murderers. Skinner has—’
‘Skinner? Traveller interrupted, then mastered himself with an effort.
‘Yes … He killed one of their own right before my eyes. Only K'azz can restore the Guard to what it should be.’
Traveller's gaze was averted, but in it, and in his tight down-turned mouth, Kyle read sadness coupled with a strange amusement, as if at some grim joke known only to himself. ‘Indeed. To what it should be. And what might that be, I wonder?’
‘I – I don't know, but it would have to be an improvement. Only the Duke can bring Skinner to heel.’
‘Can he? I wonder …’
Ahead, Ereko stopped, raising a hand. Coming abreast of him Kyle saw that they had reached the innermost ring of pillars. Before them lay a flat circular plaza the size of a city centre floored entirely by pale, off-white, wind-scoured gravel. The gathering shadows of the afternoon revealed that the pavement was not smooth, but that the stones were intricately set in lines. Some lines bisected the expanse, some curved, some were straight, each was marked out only in shadow by the arrangement of the stones. Indeed, from where Kyle stood, it appeared as if a forest of lines, some gently curving arcs or tight curls, others straight as sword blades, crawled about the gravelled floor of the plaza like, well, an infinity of paths. But all were marked only in shadow. The stones were all identical, all the same shade of creamy off-white. One could not tell which stone was part of which line. And even as they all stood staring in fascination, Coots and Badlands coming to stand with them, the sun moved a fraction and all the lines writhed with it like shadows jumping to new tracery.
‘Incredible,’ Ereko breathed. ‘Would that I had known its makers. A construct worthy of the great artificer Icarium.’
‘Do we cross?’ Stalker asked.
‘Our goal is across the way.’
‘We go around,’ Traveller said.
Kyle felt unaccountable relief at that pronouncement. But he also felt a deeper unease, for here was a man who surely must have no need to fear anything, yet even he was wary of this place. They slowly traced their way around half the circumference. All the while, Kyle watched the plaza: no bird landed, no leaf blew, no twig or dry weed tumbled across the expanse. All was still. It was as if the space were somehow sealed off from the normal littered, overgrown expanse of sand surrounding it.
Eventually, Ereko stopped at a pillar that, as far as Kyle could see, was no different from any other. He knelt to study its base for a time. ‘This is where we must dig, I believe.’
‘Dig?’ Kyle asked in disbelief.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘But, is he … dead … ?’
The giant frowned. ‘From what you have told me of these Avowed, I presume not.’
‘Then …’ Words failed Kyle. Father Wind! To be buried alive for so long, unable to die. His mind must be gone …
The brothers set to without question. They fell to their knees, began dragging armfuls of sand aside. Seeing Kyle watch, Coots commented aside, ‘The sooner we're outta here the better …’ Kyle got to his knees to help. An arm's length down they met harder ground, firm tough dirt, a deeper hue of yellow, damp and cold. Out came boot-knives and short blunt eating blades. The fighting blades stayed sheathed. It came to look to Kyle as if the Thel Akai must have been right in selecting this one particular pillar out of the countless thousands, for the ground was broken, the lower matrix mixed with the sands from above. Someone had dug here before them.
They reached a flat stone barrier, roughly hewn. Feeling about the edges Badlands revealed a paving stone or lid, roughly square, about an arm's length in each direction. He pushed his fingers under one edge and, straining, lifted. The stone grated, rose and fell leaning. Badlands edged aside to reveal a small dark cavity, like a large urn. Within, arms wrapped tightly around knees tucked to its chest, was a desiccated corpse.
Badlands gestured. ‘This the guy?’
‘How should I know? I've never seen him!’
‘He don't look so good,’ Coots said, brushing sand from his beard.
‘Oh, you think so? Ereko?’ But the Thel Akai had turned away and was scanning the grounds. ‘Ereko?’
The giant glanced down, his amber eyes churning with heavy sadness. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle. I'd hoped you'd be successful. It would make … well, I'm sorry.’
Puzzled, Kyle peered about the surrounding dunes, his eyes narrowing. ‘What's going on?’
Traveller had stepped down and crouched over the corpse. He lifted its skull to examine its ravaged face, wrenched its right hand free to examine it, then straightened.
‘Well?’ Kyle asked.
Traveller too was looking aside. ‘It might be him,’ he said, distractedly. ‘Hard to say.’
‘What's going on, Lady take it!’
Stalker's head snapped up and he leapt aside, facing east, a hand at his sword. The brothers crouched behind the cover of the piled sand. Traveller straight-armed Kyle to fall backwards into the pit. ‘Hey!’
Peering up over the lip, Kyle saw that a wind had arisen, a twisting dust-devil that kicked up clouds of sand. Within, darkness gathered, a ragged gap that Kyle recognized as the opening of a Warren. Greyness moiled behind the fissure. Then, with a clap, it was gone and the sands settled. An armoured man now occupied the space between two pillars. He was tall, gaunt, looking exceptionally old. His face was dark and lined, ravaged by age, and his long grey hair hung lank. His mail shirt hung to his ankles, a plain bastard sword was at his side. He approached, scanning everyone briefly. The open scorn of his gaze set Kyle's teeth on edge. The eyes fixed upon Ereko and a hungry smile twisted the old man's mouth. He called something in a language unknown to Kyle.
‘Talian is a common tongue here,’ Ereko answered.
The man paused, inclined his head fractionally. ‘Very well … I had lost hope, Ereko. Yet here you are. Seems we've played the longest waiting game in history, you and I.’
‘I play no games, Kallor.’
‘Coy to the end, then. Come,’ he gestured Ereko forward impatiently, ‘let me complete my last remaining vow.’
‘Let me take him,’ Stalker said, straightening.
Ereko shot out a hand. ‘No! No one must interfere. This is between him and me.’
‘You aren't armed, Ereko,’ Kyle called.
The giant turned a wistful smile to Kyle. ‘It is all right. Don't worry, Kyle. This is what I have chosen.’ He took a long ragged breath. ‘I'll not meet you with a weapon in my hand, Kallor. That would dishonour the memory of why I am here.’
The man shrugged. ‘As you will. It would make no difference, in any case.’
‘Traveller, do something!’ Kyle begged.
The swordsman did not answer. Kyle was shaken to see tears staining the man's face. He gripped and regripped the hilts of his sword. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle,’ he ground out, almost gasping. ‘This was our agreement.’
‘Well, I made no such Hood-damned agreement…’ Kyle climbed from the pit, went for his tulwar. Traveller grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him. Pain flamed in his shoulder. ‘Damn you!’ he gasped.
‘I sometimes think that is so,’ the man answered in a voice almost broken in emotion.
Ereko stepped forward, arms open. ‘Come then yourself, High King. I know no fear.’
Despite facing an unarmed opponent, the one named Kallor retreated. Perhaps he wondered if this were some sort of elaborate trap. Or was incapable of understanding what was unfolding. After a few steps back he scowled anew, drew his sword. ‘Do not think that I will be moved by such a display.’
‘Be assured that in your case I am under no such misapprehension.’
Badlands and Coots jumped atop the piled sands, weapons out. ‘Hold!’ Traveller barked.
‘He's gonna get killed!’ Badlands called.
‘It is his decision.’
‘No,’ Kallor snarled, shifting forward. ‘It is mine!’
For all his apparent age, this ‘High King’ moved with stunning speed. The bastard sword's long blade thrust high then was quickly withdrawn to slash down Ereko's front. The giant clenched his arms around himself and fell to his knees. Kallor thrust a second time. The blade pierced the back of Ereko's shirt then withdrew. Silent, Ereko toppled to his side.
Kyle covered his face, horrified. Yet he knew he should bear witness and so he forced himself to look up again, his eyes searing.
Kallor drew his blade across the fallen giant's clothes to clean it. He looked down for a time, musingly. ‘Too easy by far. Though oddly satisfying all the same. But—’ he leant forward. ‘What's this – breathing still?’ He shifted to stand closer to Ereko's shoulders. ‘I think I will take the head.’
‘No, you will not,’ Traveller announced.
The High King straightened, blade rising. ‘A little late for your friend, don't you think? Pangs of delayed guilt? Then again,’ and the man struck a ready stance, ‘please do. I came for a fight. Perhaps you can provide me one.’
Traveller edged forward carefully. ‘I speak now because the terms of my agreement with my friend have been observed.’
‘And now you wish revenge. Yes, yes. It's all so drearily predictable.’
Traveller flinched as if stabbed. He raised a hand, pointing. ‘Speak not to me of vengeance, Kallor.’ Kyle was shaken, hearing in Traveller's words echoes of the night before. ‘The one who lies before you made me swear off any vengeance in his name and I respect his wishes. And so I say to you – go now! You have struck mortal blows. Ereko will die of them soon enough.’
Kallor drew himself up tall. His mouth curled his contempt and disbelief. ‘You dare dismiss me! Had you the least idea of who and what I am you would run now and not stop until beneath the waves!’
Traveller eased his blade in its scabbard. ‘There are those who would say the same of me …’
A smile broke through the man's glower and he stepped free of Ereko, sweeping his blade wide in an invitation. ‘Then by all means, come. I will take both your heads.’
‘Flee now, High King, or I will act.’
The man made a show of peering first to the right and then the left. ‘I appear not to have fled.’
Traveller drew his blade. ‘That is good enough for me.’
The two closed, feet shuffling slowly and carefully, blades extended. Kyle was worried, for the High King had just demonstrated amazing speed and his bastard sword was a much heavier blade than Traveller's. Not to mention that the man was more heavily armoured.
The blades touched, scraping. Both held two-handed grips. They clashed once, iron snarling. They clashed again, parrying, then Traveller was somehow before Kallor, his fists at the man's chest, blade thrust completely through to the hilt. Kyle gaped and Kallor stared as well, just as astonished. One of his mailed hands went to Traveller's grip while the other swung his weapon. Traveller snapped up a hand to clasp the man's forearm. They held like that for a time, circling and straining, Kallor's blade held high while Traveller's slim dark blade thrust straight from Kallor's back. Kyle was chilled to see no blood upon that blade.
Fury changed to consternation to disbelief on the High King's lined face as his eyes widened and his lips peeled back from grey teeth. ‘Who … are … you?’ he ground out. Edging his head closer, Traveller spoke, his words lost beneath Kallor's gasped breaths. The High King blanched, flinching away. ‘No! Chained One, aid me!’
A wind gathered around the two. The High King glanced behind himself where darkness blossomed. He gave Traveller a mocking smile. ‘As you can see, apostate, though you have the better of me this time, I am just as difficult to overcome as you. And my Patron is very strong here. In this place, especially …’ He threw himself backwards, sliding off Traveller's blade into the darkness of a gap that cracked open that instant. Traveller appeared ready to throw himself in, but Stalker, leaping forward, pushed him aside.
The gateway disappeared with a sharp explosion of air. Traveller stood motionless for a time, staring at where the portal had been. Beside him, it was Stalker who was gasping for breath, his face sweaty. ‘I thought you weren't going to strike him,’ he said. Traveller sheathed his sword. ‘That was long overdue for another friend.’
Kyle ran to Ereko, threw himself down at his side. The Thel Akai was conscious, panting shallowly. Traveller knelt with Kyle. ‘He is gone,’ he told Ereko.
The giant gave a curt jerk of his head. ‘I go too,‘ he said, laboured, ‘to join my people. I have been a long time from them. I have missed them. Thank you, my friend.’ Glancing to Kyle, he offered a weak smile. ‘Do not mourn me. And do not give in to sorrow. I will always be with you, yes? This is necessary, here and now. Necessary …’
Traveller stood. ‘Farewell.’
Kyle remained on his knees, thinking, someone ought to do something. Why wasn't someone doing something? The Thel Akai's skin took on a grey pallor, roughening. Before Kyle's eyes the flesh transformed to gritty grey stone. The stone cracked, crumbled and flaked. Kyle could not help but pull away, unnerved. ‘What's happening?’
‘He's returning to the Earth. To his mother,’ Traveller said softly, reverently. ‘As it should be …’ and he scanned the horizons, hand on his sword grip.
Even as Traveller spoke Ereko's flesh crumbled to a dust that the wind pulled away. In moments nothing remained. Traveller whispered something that sounded to Kyle like a prayer.
Behind them, the brothers spoke with Stalker who then approached. ‘We'd best go,’ he said, his voice low.
Traveller nodded, ‘Yes.’ He moved to take Kyle's arm but Kyle flinched away.
‘How can you just leave him here!’
‘He's gone, Kyle. The wind has taken him and he will be of the earth once more. It is what he wished.’
The burning in Kyle's chest flared at those words. ‘And how could you have let this happen! You could have stopped it!’
The swordsman's dark-blue eyes widened in shock, then he lowered them and turned away. ‘We should go,’ he said, his voice thick.
Stalker took Kyle's arm. ‘Don't be angry with the man,’ he mumured. But Kyle pulled his arm free.
‘He might as well have killed Ereko himself!’
‘Kyle – that's not …’ but the scout could say no more. He shook his head and walked away, signalling something to his brothers.
Kyle fell to his knees next to where the giant had lain. He reached out to pass his hands over the sands. Gone. He felt as if his heart had been torn from his chest. He'd sworn never to feel this way again, yet somehow this affected him so much more than that day atop the Spur. Someone so kind and wise – how could this have happened? It was not right. Drops of tears wet the sands. His hands found a leather thong and a stone, the necklace he'd seen on Ereko. The stone had a hole through which the thong ran and was smooth and translucent, like amber. He clenched it in his fist and stood.
Feeling oddly as if he were sleepwalking, he headed back, retracing their steps. Distantly, he was aware of Coots and Badlands keeping an eye on him. Reaching the shore and the Kite pulled up on the strand only pained Kyle further. The Lost brothers worked together with Traveller to ready it. Kyle sat and watched them, the ocean and the steady surf. An old man came walking up the beach from the direction of the village. ‘Greetings,’ he called in Talian.
Kyle looked to Traveller who merely returned to his work. Shrugging, Kyle faced the man. ‘Yes? You speak Talian?’
‘Yes. I'm of Gris. Was shipwrecked here years ago.’ His long, straight, greying hair whipped in the off-shore wind. His beard and moustache were a startling white against his lean, sun-darkened features. He wore the ragged, bleached remains of a shirt, leather vest and trousers. His feet were bare and cracked.
‘And?’
The man's eyes narrowed to slits and he glanced away. ‘Was hoping you'd offer a berth – passage anywhere but here.’
‘I don't think so. We're not really—’
‘I know these waters well. I could guide you through them. Been fishing here for years. Where are you headed?’
Kyle was at a loss. Yes, where were they headed? He looked to Traveller; the man's back was turned as he was stowing the bundles and refilled water casks. ‘Quon Tali,’ the man finally said.
‘Quon! Then please, Lady's Mercy! You must take me.’
Kyle glanced sharply to the man – Lady's Mercy? But no, why read anything into that. No doubt it was a common enough Talian oath. ‘It's not really for me to say …’ he looked again, a little sullenly, to Traveller.
The man was coiling rope. His back to them, he hung his head then raised it as if entreating the sky. ‘It's your decision, Kyle.’
‘Then I suppose so. What's your name?’
‘Jan.’
Kyle made the introductions. The Lost brothers greeted the man but Traveller did not turn around. ‘We should catch the night tide,’ was all he said.
Jan gestured to the village. ‘I'll just get some supplies.’
‘Be quick about it,’ Traveller called after him.
They had the Kite out in the shallows when Jan returned burdened by skins of water, bundles of fruits and pale root tubers. Pushing his way out into the surf he tossed the goods over the side then climbed in. Stalker yielded the tiller. Kyle and the brothers handled the sail. Traveller sat at the bow, arms crossed over his knees. Jan turned them north.
After a time, as the stars came out, Kyle sat against the side and set his chin on the gunwale. He stared back at the dark line on the horizon that was the coast of Jacaruku. His suggestion to come to the Dolmans had been a disaster for them. K'azz dead or gone. Ereko slain. And, Kyle now worried, he may have insulted Traveller beyond forgiveness with his words back at the Dolmans. He saw that now. But he'd been so angry. He'd given no thought to the fact that the man had known Ereko far longer than he. And now Traveller was taking them to Quon – the very destination of the Guard. Perhaps he meant to hand Kyle over to them. It suddenly occurred to him that Traveller might actually blame him for his friend's death; if he hadn't suggested this destination of Jacuruku out of all possible headings then Ereko would still be alive. He glanced to the bow. The man was awake, brooding, it seemed to Kyle. His eyes were glittering in the dark, fixed on the seemingly oblivious Jan at the tiller, whose gaze held just as steady to the north-east horizon.