Dirge of the Dormant, page 5
part #5 of The Mindstream Chronicles Series
To his left, Ibsa Bervoets simpered. She, too, looked directly at Jora’s mystical eyes.
Jora fumed, the anger building and growing within her like a flood pressing against a weakened dam. She barely heard Nystrok as she swore to herself that Ibsa Bervoets would get what was coming to her. She imagined ways to bring about the elder woman’s demise, each one more satisfying than the last. Gerad’s voice pervaded her hate-filled thoughts and brought her back to the conversation.
Ibsa stepped forward holding a leather barring cuff, this one with laces he wouldn’t be able to easily remove.
“Jora, come find me,” Gerad said. “Don’t believe his threats.”
“Shut up this instant,” Nystrok yelled over him. “Do you want the Gatekeeper to witness your death?”
Gerad ignored him and kept talking. “Even if they kill me, take the godheart back. You must.”
The king struggled with his captor for a moment, the stream flickering as if the inscription on the barring cuff momentarily lost and regained contact with Gerad’s skin.
“They...me...ship...night,” Gerad shouted.
“Shut...”
Jora didn’t see Nystrok slap him, but Gerad’s head was suddenly turned, and a red mark appeared on his cheek.
“It has—”
“Damn,” Jora said, opening her eyes. “It’s over.” She backed up the stream and rewatched it, noting that Gerad had said their plan was to go to Hazred, as Elder Alton had said.
“Did he give you anything new to use?” Arc asked.
“Not particularly. Ibsa’s on his ship, though, so I’ll take great pleasure in killing her when I rescue Gerad.”
“How many new allies have you tamed?” he asked.
“Thirteen,” she said.
“‘Tis not enough to take on an entire ship o’soldiers.”
She gave him a flat look. “I know that. I’m going back this evening at dusk for more.”
“Will we have time?” Adriel asked as she neared.
“It’s about seven o’clock now, yes?” Jora asked. In reply, the clock tower at the First Godly Redeemer temple began to toll in the distance. “Sunset should be around five o’clock this afternoon, and dusk will last until five thirty or thereabouts.”
“You have the sunrise and sunset times memorized?” Adriel asked, smiling.
Jora didn’t want to admit she’d looked them up in the almanac Behrendt had given her. “These are things a Gatekeeper must know, since my ability to travel between realms depends on it.”
“By six-thirty this evening,” Arc said, “the ship will likely reach the river to Hazred—”
“Demon’s Drool,” Jora said, smiling.
“What?” Adriel asked.
“The river runs out of the mountains south of the Demon’s Maw canyon, right? Like drool from a mouth. Demon’s Drool. That’s what we’ll call the river from now on.”
Arc and Adriel shared a raised eyebrow. “Very well,” he said. “I estimate another two days travel up the river—”
“Demon’s Drool,” Jora said.
“Demon’s Drool,” Arc said, inclining his head in acquiescence, “which gives you another dawn in which to tame allies afore you must take your flight. Once the ship reaches Hazred, King Gerad will be much more difficult to rescue.”
Jora nodded. “I agree. Until then, I have an idea. I’ll send Kaw to deliver one of my new allies to keep Gerad company.”
“And give you someone to Observe in the meantime,” Adriel added eagerly.
“What ally do you have that will go unnoticed?” Arc asked.
“A mouse. Gerad might enjoy a talking mouse, and he can seek advice from Retar while he awaits our rescue.”
“That sounds too easy,” Elder Alton said. “What are we overlooking?”
Jora scowled at him. He hadn’t been involved in her discovery of her powers, nor the drama involving the king, the smuggling of godfruit, the razing of Kaild, or the attempts at bringing peace to Serocia and its enemies. And he had the gall to question her? She was the Gatekeeper, and he was just some pesky little—
“Jora,” Arc said, a warning in his voice.
“What?” she snapped.
“Your eyes,” Adriel said quietly. “They’re glowing gold again.”
Closing her eyes, Jora took a deep breath and let it out slowly, imagining her anger flowing out through her nose as she envisioned Sundancer exhaling through her blowhole. The thought of her dolphin friend never failed to bring her a sense of peace and joy. When she opened her eyes again, she felt more relaxed and even-tempered.
“‘Tis a good question,” Arc said, acknowledging the elder with a nod. “I shall think on the matter. For now, I beg your aid in freeing the two Colossi from their stone form. Now that you have your flute.”
She couldn’t send Kaw off to the ship and have him carry her to Renn at the same time, but she agreed that having the two remaining Colossus warriors would be helpful. “Let’s go to Renn, then. Kaw and Trounce can go to the ship after we get back.”
Chapter 4
Jora and Arc headed to the main dining hall where the other Colossus warriors and a large contingent of the Legion soldiers crowded around the tables. The room wasn’t large enough to accommodate more than fifty or sixty diners at a time, and so men sat on the floor along the outer walls, shoveling food into their mouths. The mood in the room was somber, and few people talked to one another. Once people were finished eating, they wiped their bowls and spoons and handed them to someone waiting in line on their way out.
She was about to leave and suggest they eat in the king’s dining room when someone called her name. Her gaze found the Legion commander with the war minister at the only table that had vacant seats. He waved them over.
“March Commander Rowwe,” she said. “Chief Kyear. While you’re here, you might as well make use of the king’s private dining room. He’s not using it.”
“I prefer to dine with my men,” Rowwe said, though he wasn’t so much dining with them as dining near them.
“When are you and your men returning to your post?” she asked as she took a seat on the bench next to Kyear. Arc sat across from her, to Rowwe’s right. “I’m not sure how long the palace can accommodate so many of you.”
“My campers have come with us,” Rowwe said. “The cooks and so forth. They’ll help cook and wash dishes. At least there’s food here. My men haven’t had a decent meal in a week.”
“Why not?”
“Rationing.”
“Why are you rationing food?”
“I think you know why,” Chief Kyear said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Pretend I don’t,” she said.
With his elbows on the table, he leaned toward her, cupping the sides of his mouth as if to guard his words. “The godfruit trade has stopped,” he said in a low voice. “When we lost that income stream, we lost our ability to pay the farmers who feed our soldiers. The farmers work as hard as our fighters do, but if they’re not getting paid, their incentive to break their backs dries up. Our soldiers are getting barely enough food to subsist, let alone fight.”
Jora felt the blood rush to her feet and pool there. Challenger’s bloody fists. They’d warned her this would happen, and she’d paid it no heed. She’d thought they were trying to guilt her into excusing their scheme to get rich off the lives of their soldiers.
Why hadn’t Quirza told her the coffers were empty? As the Minister of Finance, she should have known, or perhaps Dina Coers, the Bursar of War. Of course, it might not have mattered if they had. Jora had been busy trying to stay alive and take back their city.
“I hesitate to leave Jolver unguarded,” March Commander Rowwe said.
Jora worried the resources of Jolver would be stretched thin if it had to feed seven hundred more men for more than a few days. “The Mangendans would be stupid to turn around and come back after losing a large number of their fighters. The city’s safe, at least for now. You can return to your post.”
“Where we’ll eventually starve?” Rowwe shook his head. “We’re not leaving until I hear that order from my commander.”
Jora turned to Kyear. “Tell him to go back. And send word to the farmers that they’ll be reimbursed in full for everything the Legion owes them.”
“How are you going to do that?”
She smiled and wagged her eyebrows. “Perhaps I’ve got an ally who shits gold coins.”
Arc spewed a mouthful of water all over the table.
A half hour later, Arc and Jora headed downstairs. Jora pulled on a coat, knowing the flight to Renn would be cold, but Arc insisted he would be fine without one.
“How will you pay the farmers?” he asked.
“I told you. I have an ally—”
“Nay, you do not. Tell me truly.”
“I don’t exactly know yet, but I have an idea.” She hesitated to go into detail, because he would insist she find another way.
A few weeks earlier, she’d sent Sonnis to Mangend to deliver her peace proposal to the grand duke. Observing the ally, she’d been taken aback by the amount of gold everywhere. Now that she knew where it had come from, she thought to have Kaw fly over Hazred in the dark of the night and grab some of it, assuming he was strong enough to carry a gold statue or even two back to Jolver. Then, the Vice Minister of Currency could mint the gold into coins and use it to pay the farmers.
“You wish to melt down the gold body parts in the stronghold?” Arc asked.
She nodded. True, the families of those royal guards wouldn’t have bodies to cremate, but regardless whether the men had eaten godfruit before the Krykon engilded them, there was no surviving being decapitated and dismembered. “Those guards would be sacrificing their bodies to feed their fellow Serocians, in a manner of speaking.”
Arc pursed his lips. “Their family members should make that choice.”
She shrugged. A leader sometimes had to make hard decisions for the good of the country. This was one of them.
They reached the courtyard, and Jora summoned Kaw. While he circled above, growing larger, she and Arc lay face down on the ground and waited. The big bird landed, positioned himself over them, and wrapped each in a huge foot, careful his talons didn’t poke holes in their flesh.
“Where to?” the ally asked.
“Renn,” Jora said.
“All right. Off we go.”
“Do not drop us,” Arc said.
“Of course not.” Kaw leaped into the air with mighty beats of his wings.
Jora used to close her eyes at the beginning, for the up-and-down motion as Kaw ascended was somewhat daunting, but she didn’t feel the need anymore. If anything, she found the departure exhilarating. Arc, on the other hand, the big, tough, brave Colossus, had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Jora laughed and kicked her feet. “This is exciting. Arc, look down.”
His response was a firm shake of his head.
She enjoyed the first few minutes of the flight but quickly became appreciative of the coat she’d borrowed from Rivva. Her face and fronts of her legs were cold, but the rest of her body was warm enough to keep the shivers away. Arc eventually opened his eyes and offered her a smile, but she could tell he regretted not wearing something warm. It was only an hour. They would reach Renn before frigidity set in.
When they neared Renn, Arc shouted, “We should land outside the city and walk the rest o’ the way.”
“No,” Jora replied, raising her voice to be heard above the rushing wind. “The people are going to have to get used to seeing the Gatekeeper flying about. And we can’t spare the time. I want to be back in Jolver before sunset.” Of course, it wouldn’t take four hours to release the two Colossus statues and fly back, but she preferred to play it safe. Besides, she needed to stop by Gerad’s home and talk to his wife and children. It was time they packed up and moved to Jolver.
They flew low over the city so that Jora could get her bearings and locate the warehouse where Elder Brinion had found the statues. Below, people pointed at the giant bird, some gaping in amazement and others running for cover. Maybe she should have worn the red robe, even though only the bottom half would have been visible beneath her coat. No, she didn’t want to be encumbered by the robe all the time. People needed to get used to seeing her in regular clothes. Or perhaps she would start wearing red shirts and trousers. No reason she couldn’t be comfortable and wear the traditional color of the Gatekeeper.
“They are affrighted,” Arc said. “Let us land and assure them.”
“It’s all right. Nobody will—”
The bird dipped the left wing downward, turning sharply as he let out a shriek of surprise. An arrow flew past, narrowly missing Arc.
He shot her a look that said ‘see?’
“We’re almost there. Look.” Jora pointed at a building with a partially collapsed roof. “There, Kaw. Do you see it?”
“I see it. Hold on!” Kaw tucked his wings and dove in sharply. A scream rose in Jora’s throat, but before it ripped free, he flared his wings and angled them, setting down as gently as a feather. “And here we are.”
“Kaw,” Jora shot, “don’t ever do that again.”
“Sorry. Was that too steep a descent? I thought the landing was quite smooth, myself.”
Her heart was still racing. “Less dramatic would be lovely.”
The bird sighed. “You take all the fun out of it.”
Jora rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said to Arc as she started toward the building’s open door.
Sunlight shone though the broken roof, illuminating particles of dust in the air. Jora stepped over and around fallen and broken debris, much of which had mold growing on it. Parts of the floor were soggy with old rain and gave under her weight. The pattering of little feet rustled in every direction. Ahead, she made out the forms of the two statues amongst the old debris and headed toward them, careful not to stumble like she had last time. Of course, the moment she looked up to plot her course toward them, her foot snagged on something, and she lurched forward. The only reason she didn’t go sprawling onto her face was because Arc had caught her by the coat tail. She lingered a moment, suspended in the air at a steep angle toward the pile of rubble beneath her, before she got her foot untangled and set it down in front of her. She righted herself and tossed him a grin over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said in a voice thick with mirth.
“I don’t know whether your two friends would care to fly back in Kaw’s feet. Maybe we could borrow some horses from the governor.”
“I thought perchance to have them escort King Gerad’s family to Jolver.”
Jora snapped her fingers. “That’s a great idea. Assuming they have a wagon of their own to use. If not, we’ll have to send one. We do have those four horses we left in the farmer’s pasture outside Jolver.”
“Mayhap Kaw would retrieve them for us.”
Jora laughed as she stepped over what looked like an old, broken throne, her arms spread wide for balance. “That might terrify the poor things to death.”
“We wrap their heads to block their vision. They will be fine.”
It was worth considering.
When they reached the two statues, Jora put her hands on her hips as she looked them over. “Which one first?”
“Scipio,” Arc said. “He is the calmer o’ the two. Theophilus is likely to come alive swinging.”
Like the rest of the Colossi, Scipio was tall and thick with muscle, dressed in lightweight leather clothing and a thigh-length mail tunic with half sleeves.
With her flute, Jora opened the ‘twixt and whistled for Po Teng. When the ally appeared, she was taken aback at first, forgetting he’d adopted a new form—that of a transparent man. The wind. “Hello, my friend.”
“Where is he?” Arc asked, looking about.
“Hello, Jora. Archesilaus.” Po Teng’s voice was but a whisper, though his words were much easier to understand now.
Arc startled when he noticed the man-sized ripple in the air. “Whoa. Thou art no longer a tree.”
“No, I thought this form might be more useful to my master—to Jora.” He leaned in and gave Jora a hug. “Always a pleasure to see you.”
She embraced him, surprised to feel he had substance. He felt more like a stiff wind than a real man, but he was there. “Master? That’s how you think of me? As your master?”
He cocked his head and looked at her, his transparent face warping the shapes of the items behind him when he smiled. “I am at your command. You are my subduer, though I submitted freely and willingly.”
Jora didn’t like that, but what was she to do about it? She didn’t make the rules that governed the world or the creatures in it.
“I will always be ready and willing to be by your side, if you’ll have me,” Po Teng said.
“He sounds like a man smitten,” Arc said.
Jora gave him a half-smile but didn’t mention that when he was Boden Sayeg, he’d loved her. And she’d loved Boden’s father. “Let’s get to it, shall we? Po Teng, I need to borrow your release from stone ability. We’ll start with this one.” She looked at Arc. “Are you ready?”
Arc stood in front of the statue and slightly to its left. “Aye.”
Jora stepped up to the stone. She had to touch it and play the command phrase at the same time. Pressing her elbow against the cool stone, she raised the flute to her lips and played first the command to borrow the magic, “Trust into my own hands your power of ‘Free from stone, let blood flow through,’“ and then the magic itself, “Free from stone, let blood flow through.”
