The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 51
“Notch?” A whisper.
He tensed. The figure climbed into the room, no lamp, no torch. Was it a ruse?
“Notch, I’m getting you out of here.”
A familiar, older voice. Speaking Anaskar with a Braonn accent. “Gelehn?”
“Of course. Who else is going to haul you out of trouble? Hurry.” The old hunter crossed the floor, a knife in hand. Notch raised his bonds and Gelehn sliced them.
“Thank you.” Notch worked some feeling back into his hands. “Sofia too.”
Feet crossed stone. A pause. “Is she well? Her skin burns.”
Notch joined the hunter. “She’s running a fever. I have something in our bags that will help, unless Efran took them.”
Gelehn lifted Sofia and started up the steps. “Don’t worry about Efran and his men.”
At the top, Notch paused. Bodies lay across the floor and a stillness filled the room – but not the stillness of death. The nearest man wore an expression of peace and his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. “They’re all asleep?” he whispered.
Gelehn nodded and wove through the men. Near to twice as many Braonn as he’d noted during their capture, but none so much as stirred as Notch passed. Not even when Sofia groaned in her fever-sleep.
Outside, Swift and their belongings waited in the dark trees, trunks but pale smudges beneath the moon. Notch helped set Sofia on the horse and checked for the masks. Untouched. Fortune had blessed them. Generously.
“How did you put them to sleep?”
“A powder. But we should hurry, I wasted much time gathering your possessions. Efran had taken a liking to your saddlebags there. He was some distance away when we surprised him.”
“Where is he now?”
“The others are diverting him.” Gelehn led them along a trail barely visible. “Nonetheless, let’s put some distance between them, before he returns.”
“You saw him? And who is ‘we’?”
“We did. And his kind travel well.” Gelehn didn’t elaborate.
“So can you tell me what was in his veins?”
“Ah, you saw that? It’s sap from the Summer Groves. It grants him endurance, among other things.”
“I’ve never heard of this.”
Gelehn grunted. “They’re new to us too. What he’s done is unnatural.”
“Something’s happening in the Bloodwood, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.” He paused. “Exactly ‘what’ is the problem.”
Notch led the horse up a small slope. “How did you find us?”
“Passing through Avaon, all people could talk about was you and the girl. And then Efran. Didn’t take much to put it together.”
“Glad you did.”
Sofia groaned again and Notch cursed himself. He stopped the horse, which gave a snort, and rummaged through the bags. He found Osani – or so he thought – and placed it over her face.
Her laboured breathing eased.
Gelehn joined him. “She seems better already.”
“She does. They’re strange creatures.”
Gelehn chuckled. “Women?”
“Greatmasks.”
The hunter gave a shiver. “Well, we’d better keep moving. Let’s get you two out of range, then we can talk about your path.”
“We have to pass Avaon and find the rogue’s trail.”
“Leave that to this old hunter.”
The night passed slowly. At one point he found himself blinking, leaning on Swift as he walked. A few steps later, the forest came into focus again and he shook his head. Stay alert. Gelehn’s insistence on speed suggested that Efran might be able to catch them.
Light bloomed between trunks, as if a silver ball spread across the horizon. The path widened and the dawn grew until the red and orange of the leaves became vivid. Notch slowed. Autumn colours. He frowned at Gelehn’s back. “Gelehn, this is the Autumn Grove.”
The hunter stopped, facing ahead. “I know.”
“Gelehn?”
“You have to come with me, Notch. Both of you.” The hunter turned. Regret was plain on his face, but his mouth was firm. “I don’t have a choice.”
Notch rested a hand on his blade, but did not draw. He stopped closer to Sofia and the horse. “You always have a choice.”
“My people don’t think so.” Gelehn made no move to his own weapons, but a long knife was within reach.
“Which people?”
“The Oynbae. You’d call us Butterfly-Eaters.”
Magic-users. Stories he’d laughed over with Luik while travelling the forest. “That’s how you put them to sleep.”
“Not I, Notch, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you cooperate. It’s what’s best for everyone.”
His sword rang free. “I’m not convinced.”
“We only want to talk, and to protect you from the Sap-Born.”
“Then let us go. Point us in the right direction.”
“You have to see the Oyn-Dir first.”
“No.”
“I don’t want to fight you, Notch.”
He hefted his blade. “I agree. You don’t.”
Gelehn blew a piercing whistle and movement exploded. From several directions figures in autumn colours charged, springing up from the ground in fountains of loam, ducking around from behind broad trunks and swinging down from the leaves.
Notch raised his sword, but a ring of blades, bows and slingshots, bulging with bright yellow pods, surrounded him.
No-one spoke.
Gelehn called from beyond the circle. “Notch, put down your sword.”
“I don’t trust you, Gelehn, much less anyone pointing sharp things at me.”
“Would you trust me?” A woman’s voice spoke in Anaskari, her accent slight. The circle parted and one of the Oynbae approached, a small smile on her face. Her hair was tied up in a high tail and her skin was...beyond smooth. The look she gave him was predatory.
He did not lower his blade. Underestimating a beautiful woman – any woman – was idiocy. “Not at all.”
“Well,” she removed a pair of leather gloves and cupped her palms, raising them to her lips, “leave that up to me.” Then she blew. A puff of powder flew into his face and Notch coughed. Idiot. He should have known what was coming.
He coughed again. His sword point waivered and he dropped to his knees. The whole forest blurred and then it was gone. He couldn’t open his eyes.
There’d been nothing in her hands.
***
Notch opened his eyes to a wooden room, bare of furniture but remarkably, one which appeared to be without seam. No joins, no windows or doors, but all smooth walls. High above lay a circular opening. It let daylight in, but no hope of escape. The walls grew narrower the higher they went, like a funnel – and he lay in the bulb at the bottom.
Sofia.
He shot to his feet.
He’d been drugged by the Oynbae woman somehow – the Butterfly-Eater. He slammed his fist into the wall. Some guardian, Notch. No sword, no supplies. Nothing. And now they had Sofia and the Greatmasks too.
“Notch?”
The voice was faint. From beyond the wall. He pressed his ear against the cool wood.
“Sofia?”
“Thank Ana of the Sea. What’s happening? Are you stuck in a wooden cell too?”
“Yes,” he said. “It was Gelehn. He rescued us from Efran and led us into a trap.”
“The Hunter? But why? And where are we?”
“Back in the Autumn Grove. They want us for something.”
“A strange woman came, asking me questions. She seemed Braonn, only different. She wore gloves for one thing.”
That one. “They’re the Oynbae. Luik called them Butterfly-Eaters.” He laughed. “I never really believed him. But they have some strange magic, whoever they are. They used it to put me to sleep.”
A groan of pain.
“Sofia?”
“It’s fine, I’m just stiff. My muscles, it’s hard to move. I feel like I slept encased in stone.”
“How about your fever?”
“Gone. For now. Notch, what do we do?”
“Wait.”
“Great advice.”
“We can only hear what they have to say. What did the woman want to know?”
“She asked questions about Argeon and Osani. I couldn’t answer many, so she left.”
“Nothing else?”
“She said her name was Nia and that she’d return. I thought she was reasonable.”
“She didn’t put you to sleep with a strange powder.”
“Well she’s got the Greatmasks and all our possessions.”
A shadow fell across the floor. Notch moved from the wall, craning his neck. A silhouette waved down at him. “Here you go.”
Something dropped.
He reached to catch a water flask. Next came an orange. Then the figure left.
Notch uncorked, sniffed and shrugged. They’d already put him to sleep once. He drank deeply and put the flask aside, tearing into the orange and taking a bite, sucking the juice.
“What’s happening?”
“They’re feeding us,” he said between bites. It was the finest orange ever grown.
“No-one’s giving me any food. What have you got?”
“An orange.”
“You sound like you’re inhaling it.”
“I’m sure yours is coming.” He swallowed the last bite and sat against the wall. “Well?”
“Notch – wait. It’s a ladder.”
“Ladder?” Notch whipped his head back, smacking into the wall. “Gods be damned.”
A new voice, fainter than Sofia’s drifted through the wood. “Will you join us?”
Sofia, louder. “Where?”
“At a feast in the Centre. To discuss something of vital importance to both our peoples.”
“How can I trust you? You’ve imprisoned us.”
“Only temporarily.”
“Then you’ll let us go?”
“First, you must meet my father, the Oyn-Dir. He will decide your fate.”
“What about –”
“Your servant is being cared for.”
Notch thumped the wall. “One orange?”
Muffled laughter from the newcomer, then Sofia spoke again. “He should be with me.”
A pause. “Very well, I will ask.”
Notch paced until Sofia called his name. He returned to the wall, pressing his ear against the wood. “So they want to talk at least,” he said.
“But what about? Both our peoples?”
“They want something.” He took another drink. “So we’re stuck here a little longer.”
Sofia paused. “Can I ask you something...about brothers?”
“Of course.”
“Did yours ever let you down?”
“No.” He corked the bottle. “But I let him down.”
“Oh.”
“Raff was...” He clenched a fist. Each remembrance was like a new blade between his ribs. Maybe only the angle had changed, now that he’d consigned the King to a miserable wasting into death. Now Notch held the blade. Father’s voice echoed. You failed him. And maybe it was true. Easier to blame Otonos than to admit he’d let Raff down. “All Otonos cared about was winning. It didn’t matter how many of us – or the Medah – died. There wasn’t an honourable bone in his body.”
“You mean, the way he dishonoured the fallen?”
“Raff tried to stop him but the King was blind with rage. Otonos lashed out and I was too slow.”
She was quiet a moment. “Notch, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you think he’d forgive you if he could?”
Notch closed his eyes. The one question he’d never have an answer for. “I like to think he would. But I’ll never know.”
“So am I supposed to forgive Tantos?”
“I can’t tell you, Sofia.”
“I know. But, I feel him. Whenever I touch or even look at Argeon. Sometimes just a hint, but he’s there.”
He waited.
“Whenever I finally talk to Father, I might know. Who was telling the truth. But if I never see him again...”
He sighed, then shook his head. Come up with something better than sighs, Notch. “Even if that happens, I think you’ll know.”
“How?”
“Just decide if you’ll feel worse if you don’t forgive your brother.”
She was quiet a moment. “Have you forgiven yourself?”
“No.”
She was silent a moment.
“I’m not much help, I know,” he said.
“No, it’s just that I don’t know if I even want to forgive him.”
He kept his voice gentle. “Then don’t decide today.”
Something dropped into the room. A rope ladder, swaying slightly. “Sofia.”
“You too?”
Nia’s voice called down from above. “Climb, warrior.”
The rope was coarse beneath his fingers. He gave it a tug and put a boot in the first rung. Time to meet the Oyn-Dir.
Chapter 22
Sofia climbed free of the hole to stand on the clear floor of the Autumn Grove. The odd light, even at high noon, once again spread through the forest. She’d been underground, the hollow room dug into the earth. Impressive – but what did Nia and her people want?
Notch stood beside her as the woman wrapped a ladder around a stump. Beyond, a village wove its way between the trunks. As with the rest of the Bloodwood, small homes were spread without order, only with more statues similar to those she and Notch encountered. Large and small, sometimes in groups but just as often alone and towering as high as several men, none were broken here. Instead, each statue was free of grime and debris. A woman in a soft pink tunic rose on her tiptoes to brush at the folded wings of a male figure.
“Tira and Areth,” Nia said as she stood, joining her. “Our Gods and Guardians. Protectors.”
Sofia nodded. “Like you?”
“Perhaps. I am a warrior like your servant, only I also fight with means other than steel.” She said it, not as a dismissal, only a fact.
Notch joined them. “And what was that powder you used on me?”
She laughed. “Have you never touched a butterfly’s wings?”
More of the Oynbae appeared and Sofia noted that while Notch still had more questions for Nia, as she did herself, he left off and straightened, body taking on a stance of readiness. The newcomers lined up before her and Nia. One held her packs. Swift, who nickered upon seeing her, waited in the clearing, but the rest of their belongings were no-where in sight. “Before we take you to see the Oyn-Dir, would you do us the honour of dressing formally?”
Sofia glanced at Notch, who shrugged. She accepted the pack. “What do you mean?”
“Your robe and mask. You’re here as an envoy of the Anaskari.”
“Not as a prisoner?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
“I see.” She cast another glance at Notch. This time he gave a slight nod. An opportunity. If the Braonn let her wear Argeon she might be able to use it to escape.
Maybe.
Unless giving her the mask was meant to be a sign of trust?
Nia waved for Notch to turn around. He rolled his eyes but did so. The line of Oynbae closed around her, adding their bodies to a screen provided by Swift. The privacy wasn’t really necessary but it was a nice gesture. Sofia removed her plain cloak, replacing it with the heavy crimson robe of her order. Not that she’d ever truly joined. As before, it cut the chill in the air. She paused over the masks.
Osani was safer, perhaps, but Argeon she could use. Sometimes.
Yet, what if Tantos lurked within?
Nia glanced over her shoulder. “Is there a problem?”
“No.” She took the black mask and put it on, holding her breath.
Nothing.
Was it disappointment that squirmed in her chest?
First she would see if the Oynbae were sincere. There was no need to cause bloodshed with a botched escape attempt. “I’m ready.”
“Wonderful.” Nia led them through the trees. Sofia straightened her shoulders. If they wanted a Mascare, they would have one. The small party moved into a lane of pale statues alternating with broad tree trunks. People paused, lowering tools or bowls, to watch them pass. But this time, no slamming of doors, no scowls. Curiosity, and even some smiles. She would have smiled back if they’d been able to see it.
Bright lamps lined the trees ahead, containing a liquid that glowed without wick. Or was it more strange powder? There was a lavender tint to the woods here. More guards met them before a broad open area – the largest clearing she’d seen.
Wing-shaped tables, each with their own glowing pot, were occupied by murmuring men and women. Sitting in autumn colours, warriors had lain their bows and knives down, and were joined by a row of men and women with the look of hunters more typical to Braonn. Was Gelehn among them? His actions made some sense at least, yet where had he delivered them? From the danger of Efran to a newer danger?
The tables were arranged in a semi circle before an empty dais with its own two tables. Flanked by yet more statues of the Guardians, tables on the dais were only empty for moments. Figures in white filed from the trees, moving to take seats around the tables. All wore gloves of black, and did not move like simple attendants. Several chairs remained empty.
The entire clearing rose to its feet in silence.
A single man clad in a bright yellow robe, arms folded in large sleeves, walked onto the dais and took a seat. His white hair grew wild, swept back from his forehead in peaks. When he sat, he waved for those assembled to be seated.
He lifted his voice to cross the clearing, his Braonn having what she assumed was an old inflection, nothing she’d been taught at home. “Daughter, please show our guests to my table.”
Guests. That hopefully answered one question. At least a hundred eyes tracked her as she followed Nia to the dais. At the Oyn-Dir’s gesture, Sofia sat across from him. Nia hissed when Notch took a seat beside her. A collective gasp swept the clearing. Had he breeched protocol?
“I stay with you,” he said.
Nia flanked him.
The Oyn-Dir raised his hands. The crowd hushed and the old man turned back to them. “Welcome, friends.” He spoke now in Anaskari.
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