The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 71
He fell back, slapping hands over his ears as the horse screamed on.
Dust everywhere.
Ain fled, stumbling over rocks and ridges, heading toward where he’d last seen Schan. The paths were drowned beneath him, only a thudding echo – and yet, if he slowed...yes, there. A way forward. Only, a strange path, nothing he’d ever felt. An opposite force, a path that didn’t exist in the thump of feet passing, but in peace, one pulling him along, away from the strange creature.
Half-blinded by the swirling dust, he drew his cloak over his mouth and surrendered to the strange path.
And no longer did he stumble. No rocks caught his feet, no dips or welts in the earth to catch him, just every step firm and true. Even the wind and dust, even in the dim light, even with the ache in his hip, he travelled swiftly. A dark mass appeared ahead – safety. The path drew him closer.
The new path led away from the menace but the creature pursued him still. Was it truly a darkling? There was no way to know without getting too close.
Ain ran. Still he did not trip, even when the earth sloped down, his every step was sure until he came to a large cave mouth and ducked inside, coughing as he collapsed on cold sand, scrambling back into the dark.
The mysterious creature followed. The unease it created ranged before it like invisible vines, crawling up the path. Ain squeezed his eyes shut. “Sands protect me.” If he could ride out the storm in safety, there’d be a chance. He thrust his hands into the sand and imagined the path closing, disappearing in the grey of the waste.
And it changed!
No more hiss of animal feet across the sand, no more vines crawling over the path, not even the hint of peace, just a sense of closing. As if the path itself had disintegrated into sand and was scattered by the wind.
The coloured wisps of death faltered, slowing. Its frustration ran along the path, a violent ripple, but he held firm. Keep the path closed, Ain. Keep it closed. Pressure built. It was trying to break down his defence.
He began to tremble. It pushed harder and his image of the empty, pathless waste wavered.
Ain dug deeper into the sand, clenching his teeth.
“No.”
And then it was gone.
He fell back, chest heaving. It was gone and he was safe.
Chapter 54
When had he screamed last? As a boy? Or a young man, hurtling toward white waves and black rock?
Seto gasped for breath, hands gripping the tiny desk that floated in a black void. The deep thunder of silence surrounded him, pressed against his skin. The pain had gone, but he hadn’t woken. A regular click echoed in the hush. Very precise but faint. Bone on bone?
A woman appeared before him and he flinched. She wore a simple hooded gown of green that brushed her toes, but her face was blank. Only skin covered the front of her head, with grooves for eyes and mouth – and a slight protuberance in place of a nose.
Little Oseto.
He blinked at the force of her voice, though it was beautiful too. Who did it remind him of? “Chelona?”
I remember your uncertain clasp. The flutter of your heart.
“Lady, you truly remember me? I have been trying to reach you.”
The blank face leant closer. A barely adequate search, Oseto. How long did you leave me at the bottom of the restless ocean? After promising so much.
Seto gasped. Her displeasure poured forth in waves that twisted his very insides. He shuddered, knuckles white where he gripped the desk. “I was injured, most severely.” He managed. “It took time to grow in strength and power, before I was able to hire ships in secret.”
All this I know. But you should never have stopped, Oseto. Not until I was found.
“I apologise for failing you. Forgive me.”
That I haven’t decided. She drifted closer, seating herself opposite him and placing smooth hands on the table. Right down to the curved nails, they were perfect. You were to free me from your grasping family.
“Yes.”
And yet your actions are so similar.
“Lady?”
Like all of your kind, you wish to use me for small ends.
The turmoil in his stomach eased. He wiped his brow. “Forgive me again, but is there no agreement between you and my line – like the other Houses? I thought any assistance you offered was willing.”
Willing, yes, but all agreements are individual. Do you not even know the details of your own House’s servitude?
Servitude? “It has been over five hundred years, My Lady and my family has been lax with its records it seems. Or perhaps my father simply wanted me ignorant.” He frowned. “Of what servitude do we speak?”
Five hundred years is not a long span, Oseto. Disapproval. Your line serves me as I served you.
“Then can we not help each other?”
Once, I believed we could. Now I am not sure. When you took me, Little Oseto, I wondered. Was your line finally living up to its promise?
“What promise, My Lady?”
The Sacrifice.
A chill. “Which would involve?”
Do not fear. You are fulfilling your end of the bargain.
“I am?”
By joining me here while the transformation occurs. Has so little of our agreement truly been documented? Passed down?
“Again, I fear it has been hidden from me, by design.”
Her voice softened. That is unfortunate – I had assumed you knew, which is why you took me.
“I took you because...” He hesitated. Did she care? Would she want to hear something else? He almost snorted. As if he could hide anything from her. “I wanted to prove myself to my father. A pointless endeavour in more ways than one, My Lady. What is the Sacrifice I must commit so that we may work together again? I did not know my line had failed you so.”
It is not a failure, so much as a delay, now that you are here. She reached out to take his hands and he screamed as his vision darkened. It will pass, little one.
When he could see again the pain receded, though it remained, and Chelona had not released him. “Have I angered you, My Lady?”
No. The pain will not last, but it is necessary. Your kind are fragile, I will admit. But I will ease you during the Sacrifice.
“Thank you,” he managed. Things were getting out of hand. “But I still do not understand the Sacrifice.”
A sigh of patience wavering. Very well. I will show you.
Her face and body dissolved and in its place appeared a huge carcass, on a windswept beach. Seto gasped from where he observed the scene. A sea beast lay on its side, half-submerged in foamy water. Its scales shimmered gold and the giant eye was open, sightless.
Two figures approached, their dress antiquated and the swords at their belts had the look of bronze. The elder man’s head was shaven and his face deeply lined around the mouth and beneath the eyes.
“The Old Land?” he guessed.
Only to you, Little Oseto. You witness a discovery by Lucisan and his son that will lead to the first arrangement between humans and my own predecessors.
Bones clicked before he could ask another question, changing the scene. A younger man, with similar creased features, sat in a cave furnished with benches, tools and braziers. Behind his workbench, a large rib bone lay mounted to the wall.
Twice the man cocked his head while he worked on something Seto couldn’t see, then resumed his labours. Finally, after a third pause, a slight furrow to his brow, he stood and faced the rib bone. Slowly his expression changed from confusion to rapture, and he nodded at the bone.
Then he lifted it to his bench and raised a chisel, again, titling his head again, now as if listening, and then began to carve.
Bones clicked.
The same man stood beneath a bright moon overlooking a still lake. In his hands he held a mask of bone, which he stared at for a long moment before placing upon his face. A Greatmask – but like no other. Heavy brows and deep sockets, long fangs and a row of horns along the forehead, it had a dark aspect.
Seto whispered. “Is that the first Greatmask?”
After a fashion.
“But it looks nothing like ours, nothing like Vitahu.”
Vitahu was not the first. And of more relevance, know that Cianal entered into a different understanding than ours.
Bones clicked.
Sunset over a battle and Cianal charged a line, twin swords severing limbs and heads, blows flinging men across a chaotic but silent battlefield. Silent for Seto at least. The carver fought on, untouchable – Greatmask free of blood or mud.
Bones clicked.
Cianal stood on a hill overlooking a port city, a horde of soldiers at his back. He raised his hand and the sea churned, rising to swallow the city.
Bones clicked.
Cianals’ screaming face, hands outstretched. Flames shot forth and Seto’s vantage point widened to encompass a line of men in a great hall, each wearing gold crowns, and each burned to cinders.
Bones clicked.
Cianal lying on a bed in a white robe, his face a map of wrinkles, hair thin and grey, attended by a single man – his son, by the distinctive creases around his mouth. Cianal placed the Greatmask on and beckoned his son closer.
When the boy pulled back, Cianal’s chest no longer rose and fell.
Bones clicked.
Cianal’s son stood in a large cave, torch held high. Bones lined the walls.
And so down through his line and the lines of his children was the first Greatmask passed, along with the others he had made.
A scene of other beaches, other beasts and other men carving, flashed before Seto’s eyes. Time passed and the men aged, some passing the masks down on deathbeds, some losing them, some dying, clawing over them with bloody hands until –
Bones clicked.
Another young man, now in heavy plate armour, sat beside yet another dying father in a quiet room, cold sunlight pouring in from a high window. He and the older man shared a sad smile, both knew his time was upon them.
And then, in the time it took Seto to blink, the man passed and the son closed his father’s eyes, drew up a white sheet and knelt in prayer or grief. When done, he took up a Greatmask from his father’s side and placed it on his face, shoulders heavy.
The mask was the first horned Greatmask.
And then he threw his head back and screamed – in what seemed to be joy. He thrust his fists into the air and laughed and laughed.
“What is this?” Seto asked.
That is Cianal taking possession of one of his descendants, as per the arrangement he struck with his great-grandson. The first Sacrifice.
The image faded and Chelona reappeared, surrounded by the darkness once more.
“But how?”
Cianal discovered that the bones of the ‘Gods’ as you might term them, could be quite porous – even that a small piece of them, such as a mask, might come to absorb and house the memory, the spirit, of a human.
Seto narrowed his eyes. “Then on his deathbed...”
Yes. He passed into the Mask. And from that point on, directed and helped his children, if in a much less formal fashion than ours. Yet the desire for life was too strong. He was soon unhappy.
“So he made a deal with his great-grandson – he would only continue to act as a tool of power if he could one day take a body for his own.”
Chelona nodded. And now ten generations of Casa Swordfish have passed and it is your turn. I have served your line faithfully. In accordance with the true order of the world, I have not meddled in the affairs of death, I have observed other great laws that are not important now. All other tasks I have performed.
The true order? When Father tried to resurrect Fiora? Seto flinched as bolt of pain shot up his arms. She was continuing the Sacrifice!
“Is there no other way?”
No. It is time for the Sacrifice to begin. Your body will be mine to shape and to use, and your mind absorbed into the Mask, where you will serve with each of the others, contributing to the lineage of power and knowledge, preserving and sustaining. Be at ease, be proud. You will live forever.
Seto’s chest constricted.
Chapter 55
Sofia stood on her toes and prodded the sap-window with her shoe. It was safer to touch, more set than sap in the grove. She pushed harder and golden light passed through as the sap stretched, coating her boot. And then it stopped. She pulled back, fighting the amber until her shoe burst free.
There was no way out.
Her room was guarded day and night and Efran refused to let her see either her friends or her father. She had to find a way. Either that or kill him. Only all she had was Osani. And he wasn’t answering, nor would he.
She rested her head in a basin of water, the coolness of the water easing her headache. Pushing her dripping hair back, Sofia returned to her table. Now that teaching Catrin was underway, Efran afforded her furniture. A proper cot and table and chair, even a change of clothes. Aside from her red robes, she now possessed a simple tunic and pants in forest green.
The door opened and a Sap-Born placed a tray on her table and left without a word. She ate the fruit and nuts, drinking down the milk that came with it and sighed. Someone would be along to escort her to Catrin’s rooms shortly.
While waiting, Sofia probed Osani. He was a mountain side, sealed off. No hand holds to scale, there was only the sense of his distance and age. No calls were answered, not even a flicker. How could she even begin to find a way in?
The door opened again. It was Catrin herself. Sofia smothered a groan. Damn the girl, she was too cheerful. Her father had obviously raised his daughter to be a mindless parrot of his views. Was the girl’s mother any better?
“Are you ready, Lady Sofia?”
“I am.” She followed Catrin to the room by the stairs and took her chair, silent. Portraits of the Bloodwood lined the walls and a small pot of sap sat on a bench beneath a window. It seemed to comfort the girl, who checked on it regularly.
Catrin readied her notes. “I think we’ve covered the palace quite well. Tell me more about the city itself. The tiers. How would I move about as a noblewoman?”
Sofia met Catrin’s eyes. “What does your mother think of this?”
The girl’s expression grew dismissive. “The woman who birthed me hardly matters. She’s no more important than the others.”
“Others?”
She laughed. “Isn’t it obvious by looking at me? We have Anaskari women here, Lady. They assist Father.”
Sofia’s stomach churned. ‘Assist.’ Poor women, what kind of hell were their lives? She would help them – once she found Father. And Notch. Sofia sneered at the girl’s placid expression. “So you truly want me to help you die?”
“What do you mean?”
“You will die. When you reach Anaskar, you will fail.”
“Everyone dies.” She smiled, raising an arm, whose veins pulsed once. “And besides. I’m confident I can achieve the goal of freedom for my people.”
“You are young. Do you really think assassinating King Oseto is going to magically achieve that?”
“Hardly. It’s a first step.”
“It’s a false step. Anyone you murder will be replaced. And if Anaskar learns who sent the assassin, your forest will be razed.”
“But that won’t be easy.” She waved a hand. “Anaskar has no Greatmasks –they’re here with you. Or, more accurately, with Father. And the Sap has made us strong.”
“Someone will see through your act.”
“Would you, if you didn’t know who I really was?” Catrin didn’t wait for an answer. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Back to the tiers.”
Sofia folded her arms. “No.”
“No?”
“Tell Efran that I’ve waited long enough. I will see my father and my friends before I sit through one more of these lessons.”
Catrin regarded her a long moment before leaving the room. Sofia snorted. Who did the girl think she was?
Efran appeared quickly. “What is this?”
She stood. “My compliance relies on my acceptance of the fact that both my friends and father live. Demonstrate your side of the bargain.”
Efran narrowed his eyes. “You are quite demanding today.”
“Father, let her see them.” Catrin took his hand.
He glanced at her, then back to Sofia. “Fine. Catrin will take you to see them – but you will make up the lost time this evening.”
“Very well.” Sofia said.
“It wasn’t a request.” He grunted as he left, face lined with a new weariness. Good, there was something she could exploit there. Or at least, there would be if she could figure it out. Patience.
“Come on.” Catrin took a cloak from the back of her chair. “I’ll take you now. Get it done with.”
She followed her captor out and down the stairs. “Your father seems agitated.”
“He’s working and doesn’t like interruptions.”
“On what?”
“Safer ways to use the sap.”
Sofia paused at the bottom of the stair. Sap-Born and Braonn crowded a wide room. Most sat and talked, mugs in hand, but a good deal gathered around small tables with pools of amber in the centre. Holding their hands over the pools, they took turns swirling or raising the sap with their palms – each without actually touching it. Their veins pulsed as they worked, brows furrowed.
But Catrin did not linger, instead exiting the building into air cold enough to pink Sofia’s cheeks. Trees grew close around the building and Sofia finally caught her bearings. The grove was not too distant, and it appeared her prison was tucked in at the edge of a small clearing, its roof covered in generations of decaying leaves.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Catrin strode along a dirt trail leading between the trunks. “It’s not far.”
She was right.
The trail turned and another building appeared. It too, was snug against trees and low-lying branches. A pair of sappers stood guarding a heavy wooden door. There were no windows. Catrin motioned to them and they stood aside, one opening the door.
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