Chapter One
The Day They Met
Fire pooled like water in his hands and leaked between his fingers, trickling down into the smoldering lake upon which he stood. It was warm, but not scalding. The flames did not burn him.
A smile touched his lips, and he stepped farther into the lake, feet light as embers. Flames licked his bare toes, like a gentle, tickling breeze. At his silent command, the flames grew, and as they rose, they lifted him into the amber sky. He raised his arms, and flames reached up like tiny hands to touch his outstretched fingers. Another silent command, and the burning lake shot forth arcs and sprays of brilliant fire, all to dance about him in symmetrical patterns.
He laughed with delight. A single tongue of flame flitted up and lightly kissed his cheek, and he caught, for a moment, the tiny form of a fire spirit. Then it was flame again, and it fell down, down, down into the lake of fire.
As he watched its descent, he beckoned, and the fire slowly lowered him toward the lake. He knelt upon its surface and gathered an armful of fire, embracing it, basking in its comforting warmth. More fire spirits lifted their heads from the lake and crept forth to rest tiny, flickering hands upon him. He beamed down at them all, and laughed again.
#
Choking, Lekore woke to the overwhelming scent of smoke. He stared blearily at the flame he had conjured in his sleep, then smiled and patted the ground to put it out. The flame danced between his outstretched fingers, then curled around his hand like an affectionate pet. Finally it gave up and hissed away with a last, tender stroke.
"You will need to gain better control of that before you consume the entire cave," Skye said from where he sat at the cave’s morning-lit entrance. He turned to offer a gentle smile, red eyes bright against the dim enclosure.
Lekore laughed. "I dreamt of fire again. It is only then I struggle to keep the spirits from awakening."
Skye shifted and a ray of light flashed through his transparent body. "You ought to speak with them again. Asking never hurts."
"Asking fire spirits sometimes does," said Lekore, rubbing a painful memory on his fingertips. Fire usually did not burn him, but elementals can be fickle, especially the aspect of fire.
"Be very polite," Skye said, though he knew as well as Lekore that sometimes saying please only made the spirits more mischievous. He stood, refracting the light with his translucent armor. Prisms danced along the walls and ceiling of the cave.
Lekore also stood, grabbed up his worn boots, and hopped on each foot in turn while he slipped them onto his callused feet. Next, he brushed through his long hair, red eyes sweeping over the cave, taking in his stores of food and gear, calculating what he needed to stock. A tangle caught the brush on one lock of lavender hair mixed in with his blue tresses. Lekore worked through it, then caught up the hair and braided it. He tied it off with a leather cord and flipped the long plait behind him. It settled against his back, ending at his thighs.
Skye stood at the cave entrance, peering out in silence.
Lekore glanced at him. "What is it?"
"I am uncertain." Skye turned to him with a frown. "Perhaps a change in the wind. Perhaps emockye."
Lekore approached his friend, slipping a black vest over his ragged brown apparel. He searched the dead valley below, taking in the scents and sounds and tastes caught on the wind. It also brought a story.
"Not emockye," Lekore said after a moment. "They still hunt in the west. From the south-east comes something else." He cocked his head to one side. "Someone."
“Is it Ter?”
Lekore shook his head. “He is not due to return for a few months yet.”
"Shall I discover who comes this way?"
"Yes, please."
Skye disappeared. While he waited, Lekore ate a light breakfast of herb soup and dried strips of meat. Skye reappeared as he polished the meal off with a drink of water. Lekore lowered the water skin.
"Come," said Skye. "This someone is hurt."
Together they left the cave. Lekore descended the rocky slope leading into the valley, pebbles rolling and bouncing ahead of him. Skye floated just behind until they reached the bottom of the slope, where he took the lead.
Wending his way through the bleached bones littering the barren ground, Lekore ignored the grinning skulls staring up at him from under rusted helmets. He halted once, consulting the ground where a fresh set of tracks circled a skeleton. Not an emockye. Something smaller. Not a threat.
He moved on, following his guide across the valley. It was a wide, flat stretch of ground, but heaps of the long-dead posed as small hills. Skye stopped after a while and pointed to something beyond the next mound. "Past these fallen."
Lekore crept forth, a hand hovering above the dagger he had long ago claimed from the dead. Rounding the mound, he gazed upon the stranger. It was human, just as he; but something was different. Lekore cocked his head to one side, examining the collapsed figure. Skye came to hover beside him.
"She’s a female," Skye said, a smile in his voice. "I have told you of the opposite sex. Now you understand what I described. Beautiful, isn’t she?"
Lekore nodded, awed by the slim frame, the angular features.
“She is also wounded," Skye prompted.
"So she is." Lekore stepped forward. The female was smudged with dirt and blood from open cuts; some shallow, some deep. She looked so helpless, so delicate. He hesitated to touch her, for fear she might break.
"Gently, and all shall be well."
Lekore nodded and slipped his hands gingerly round her shoulders to haul her up. Her eyes snapped open. She cried out, ripped free of his grasp, and staggered back. Whipping out a dagger from a sheath at her thigh, she lunged toward him. Lekore merely stepped out of the way. The girl swayed, face pale and wet with sweat. She stared through her tangles of dark blue hair, red eyes confused.
"You’re Kel," she whispered hoarsely, brows drawing together. "How did you find me?"
Lekore was uncertain how to answer. Instead he said, "Take care. Your injuries need tending. You have lost blood."
She grimaced and nodded gingerly. "Yes. I...only just got away before..." She winced, biting her lip. "I need to reach Inpizal." She staggered. "I have to tell the Lord Captain what happened."
"Not yet," Lekore said. "You would not make it in your present state. Allow me to tend to your wounds. Inpizal is yet far away."
She swallowed, shook her head, then sank to her knees. Lekore hurried forward and knelt before her.
"Whether you like it or not, you cannot travel as you are. I shall bring you to my home."
She tried to push away, murmuring a protest. There was a flush to her face, and when Lekore braved to touch her cheek, he felt the fire of fever.
"You are very ill."
She moaned, slouching forward.
"Lekore," Skye said, and held his arms out before him. "Carry her as you would firewood."
"I understand."
"And remember that she cannot see me. Do not reply to me with words."
Lekore nodded. Turning back to the girl, following Skye’s directives, he lifted her. She was light at first, but as he headed toward his cave, the weight became awkward. Still he trudged on, the path familiar enough that he hardly looked ahead. Instead he studied her face. It was beautiful. Her features were softer than Skye’s, perhaps softer than his own--though he could not know for certain. He only ever saw himself in the distorted reflections of water or metal.
She came in and out of wakefulness. Twice she panicked and tried to escape his arms, but he held her firm, afraid all the while that he might bruise her.
Up the slope he was forced to carry her on his back, dangling lengthwise. Cresting the rise, he took her into the cool darkness and rested her on his bed of ferns and furs. She was shivering, despite the heat of the day, and he covered her with more furs.
She slept deeply as he boiled water and cut up meadowsweet, then steeped it, adding honey. He forced the herb concoction down her throat, then began to examine her wounds.
He felt for broken ribs first and was relieved to find none. Her worst wound was an ugly gash on her calf, and he flinched with sympathy as he cleaned it. He dabbed the wound with marigold, then bound it tight, and tended to her other cuts and bruises carefully.
"From where does she come?" he asked as he sat back on his heels, finished with his work.
Skye came to hover beside him. "A village in the south-east, no doubt. One now the worse for wear, if I do not miss my guess."
"Do you believe it was attacked?"
"There has been an unsettled wind from the south-east, has there not?"
Lekore recalled the distant drums a week back which had been caught on a whistling breeze. Since then, the west wind had been restless, and the scent of blood had wafted up from the south only a few days afterward. "Is it that thing called war?"
"Perhaps something less pleasant, which often leads to war. I believe this was a massacre."
Lekore wrinkled his brow. "Why is it that people kill one another?" His eyes flitted to the cave entrance, thinking of the dead of ages past.
"Ah, that is not a simple question. Why indeed?" Skye heaved a sigh. "Every man may have his reason. Perhaps good, perhaps not."
Lekore cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Suppose the emockye had come to visit our new friend at the same time we did. Do you think they would have aided her or eaten her?"
"Eaten, but emockye are beasts, not men."
"Ah, but some men are as beasts."
Lekore drew back. "Some men would eat her?"
Skye smiled. "Not precisely, but some men are as a beast consumed by want. Want of power, want of money, want of pleasure. Men can be greedier, by far, than a hungry beast, and wilder in the taking."
"But not all men," Lekore said.
"Correct. Just as some would hurt her, like a hungry beast, some men would kill for another reason. A better one. If the emockye had arrived at the same time as we did, would you not have fought them off, surely to the death of some?"
Lekore’s eyes widened. "I see. Some men kill to protect."
"Yes. Because there are greedy men who would take all they can, other men must stand in defense of that which the other would take."
"I understand." Lekore turned back to the girl. "But it is very sad."
"Yes. Death is never something to enjoy or to seek." Skye cocked his head. "I suppose that is the difference between the two types of men. The greedy man fights to bring death, while the good man fights to protect life."
"But did the greedy man consider what his avarice would cause?" Lekore asked.
"If he did, more is the pity."
The girl stirred. Lekore shifted closer to her, watching, curious. Her eyes fluttered, then flew open. She gasped, sat up, and cried out in pain.
"Take care," Lekore said softly.
Her eyes darted round the cave, then her brows came together. Finally she looked to Lekore, who smiled.
"Who are you?" she whispered, voice still hoarse, but beautiful all the same: like flowing water or wind in the grass.
Lekore took up a water skin and offered it to her. "I am Lekore." He unstopped the lid and took a quick swallow. "It is only water, and you are parched. Please drink." When she nodded, eyes narrowed, he helped her to sit up. She took first a sip, then a deeper draught. He pulled it away before she choked and helped her lay down again. Her eyes never left his face.
"Your name is Lekore, you said?"
"Yes."
"And your surname?"
Lekore glanced at Skye.
"She means the second name. What comes after. The name shared by one’s family."
"Ah. I have none of which I know." Lekore shrugged. "I am simply Lekore."
Her eyebrows drew together again. "But you have a name. Who gave it to you?"
"A friend."
"Not your mother?"
"I have no mother."
The girl’s eyes brightened with pain as deep as pools of water. "Neither do I, anymore..."
Lekore felt her grief as his own, and he caught up her hand, squeezing gently. "I am very sorry."
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she bit her lip and pulled away. There was a long silence, then her eyes flitted round the cave. "You live here?"
"I do."
"For how long?"
"For nearly always," Lekore said. "I was young when I was brought to this place."
"Brought?"
"Yes. By Ank."
"Who is he?"
"I do not know."
She shifted, fingers tracing the fur covering her legs. "Where did you live before that?"
"I do not know."
"That makes no sense."
Lekore offered a simple shrug. "Must it?"
"But surely there’s some reason why somebody left you here in the middle of nowhere."
"I am certain that there is, though I know not the reason myself."
She tried to sit up, but only slumped back down again with a gasp. "How have you survived on your own?"
Lekore did not glance toward Skye, but a smile lit on his lips. "I do not feel so much alone."
Her eyes hardened. "You’re an outlaw, aren’t you? Only a criminal would live near the Graveyard. What do you intend with me?" The fur rippled, and Lekore guessed that her hand had gone for her dagger.
"I am no criminal. I only intend to help you to recover. I administered herbs to reduce the fever, but your wounds will take time to heal, all the same. Please rest. No harm will befall you."
Her mouth pulled down. "I have to go. The fortress was attacked. I need to get word to Lord Captain Nerenoth that the Tawloomez breached the border. They..." She winced as she struggled to sit up.
Lekore shook his head. "You are in no condition to travel." He glanced to Skye, who also shook his head.
"You cannot leave her alone. Emockye might smell the blood or her fever could worsen. Stay and care for her. I shall see to the fortress, and return with news as soon as I can."
Lekore gave a vague nod and turned back to the girl as Skye vanished. She was lying down again, her breathing pained.
"You have traveled far on a wounded leg," he said. "The longest stretch of your journey is behind you, and you cannot continue until you have taken some rest. A few days will make little difference, especially since you would never make it to the city as you are now."
"Then you take my message. Please."
"I cannot. You need me here." He pulled the fur up to her shoulders. "Emockye live close by, and in your condition you would make an easy meal. I am surprised they did not catch you already."
"My life doesn’t matter now!" She tried to wriggle free of the heavy fur, but could not. Her eyes locked onto his and she set her jaw. "Go, warn them. That’s more important."
He gave her an encouraging smile. "I promise I shall do all that I can to aid you. Sleep."
She studied him for a long moment, eyes weighing him. Finally she relaxed. "I have no choice but to trust you." Her eyes closed, and soon she was sleeping.
Skye appeared beside Lekore. "How is she?"
Lekore studied her face. "Wounded. Inside." He reached up to touch his heart. "I feel her pain as though it were my own. And she is scared, very scared."
"I do not doubt it."
Lekore looked up.
Skye sighed. "The fortress city of Erokes was attacked by a tribe of Tawloomez some days ago and nearly all its citizens were killed. This girl’s family may all be dead. The highway leading from Erokes to Inpizal was blocked, so it is not a wonder she cut through the Graveyard. What is a wonder is how she made it out of Erokes alive. Tawloomez do not show mercy to Kel."
"But what provoked them?" Lekore asked. He stood and walked to the cave mouth to eye the distant horizon. The sun was reaching its peak, and the day promised to grow hotter still. Waves of heat shimmered through the air. "Do not the Tawloomez keep to their own lands?"
Skye came to stand beside him. "They might, did not their Voice stir them up from time to time."
Lekore looked at him sideways. "Their voice?"
"Voice, like a title. I believe in the Tawloomez tongue she is called Teokaka. It means the same thing. She is their religious icon, the mouthpiece of the Jok Seepa or snake gods. The Voice, Teokaka, is a bloodthirsty, spiteful woman. In one sense, she cannot be blamed. The Kel have not been kind to her people. Tawloomez prisoners are either killed or made slaves. But then, Tawloomez do not take prisoners at all."
"Do the Tawloomez move farther into Kel lands?"
"No, they raided Erokes, killed everyone, and went back to their own lands. I do not know much of their traditions, but I think they are giving a warning. It comes in threes, if memory serves."
"Then this is the first warning."
"It would seem so. I searched other fortress cities and found nothing amiss. It is my guess that they will strike again only after Inpizal has had sufficient time to receive word of this attack."
"Will that not make the Kel strike back?"
"It will, but that is no doubt what the Teokaka wants. Bring the Kel into their own lands, full of pitfalls and snares. Still, only one tribe attacked Erokes. The Kel will want to know which one, so they do not declare open war with all the Tawloomez at once."
"But is not the Teokaka at the head of all, and did she not order this attack?"
"There is no proof," Skye said. "While King Netehye will want to bring his wrath down upon all the Tawloomez at once, I do not believe the Lord Captain is foolish enough to sanction the act. He will wish to collect information first; and, if he is very smart, he will fortify the Kel defenses and not let the same tragedy happen twice. Then, on his own terms, he will plot his reply."
Lekore shook his head. "I do not understand men. Cannot the Kel and Tawloomez leave one another alone?"
"A poet once said, ’All men share but one common trait; that of deep and heartfelt hate.’"
"I do not believe that is true, or there would be no human life left upon the world," Lekore answered, moving back into the cave’s coolness. He took up a flask. The water was pleasant going down his throat. Finally he said, "Who was the poet?"
"My brother, King Erokel the Second." Skye’s smile was rueful. "He was something of a cynic."
"And wrong, besides."
Skye cast Lekore a smile he knew well. It was one of playful indignation. "Well then, my young pupil. What say you? What is the common trait shared between all men?"
Lekore met Skye’s eyes. "You would ask when I have yet met no man?"
"What am I?"
"A ghost."
Skye laughed: a clear, ringing sound. The embers of the cooking fire burned brighter for a moment, then dulled as he ceased. "What is the difference?"
"Men live. You are dead. Our objectives are vastly different; and therefore, our perspectives."
Skye nodded. "True. Very well." He swept a hand before him, as though to encompass the world. "I shall wait to hear your answer to my brother’s poem. After you have encountered men, I am curious to know what you will say."
"As am I," Lekore said, and gazed upward. "Though it scares me a little."