Glyphbinder (13 page)

“How close are we to Garn?” Jair called from the wagon.

Kara closed her eyes and drew upon the map Elder Gell had burned into her head. Garn was a small trading post built by an offshoot of the Layn, and its residents were primarily trappers and foresters. They would reach it before sundown.

“Less than a half day,” Kara called back. “Keep moving.” As they rode Trell caught up, and she smiled at him. “How did you sleep?”

“About the same as you, I think.”

“Bad dreams?”

“Frustrating dreams. Everyone was a shadow, just like what I saw on the Crystal Flats.”

Kara felt a flush and was suddenly very glad for her veil. She was hiding the truth from Trell, after all. About mages wiping memories. That made her feel like a terrible person.

“I’m sorry it’s been so difficult for you.” That sounded lame, even to her, but what else could she say?

“It’s not just difficult. The things that are missing ... no, the way they are missing ... it doesn’t seem natural.”

So he had figured it out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s missing seems so oddly specific. I can’t remember the names of the shadows or see their faces, but I know exactly how I feel about them. I can’t see where I’m walking or remember where I am, but I can feel the warm sun on my skin and taste sand in the air. Can mages alter memories? Do you think one altered mine?”

“It is possible.” Kara refused to lie to him any more than already necessary. “To change memories or erase them. I just wish I knew more about what happened to you.”

“A mage did this. I see no other possibility. My question now is, why? Why erase my memories? Did I come here looking to find you? Why, when my purpose seemed to be taking Layn Keep?”

Kara remembered the caution Halde had given her, the trust he had placed in her hands. Yet when she looked into Trell’s wide blue eyes, none of that mattered. Halde wasn’t here, and Trell was.

“Trell, I think you’re right. I didn’t say anything before because I have no bloody idea why someone would take your memories, or even how they would do it. There are no signs of tampering inside your head. Landra looked everywhere.”

Trell furrowed his brow. “Everywhere?”

“Yes. Bloodmenders can search for tampering, especially those as talented as Landra. They can enhance forgotten memories and change existing ones, but they cannot erase them. There’s always a trace. A memory is like a charcoal sketch on parchment. You can change the lines, blur them, and scrub them until they’re nothing but a stain, but you’ll never bring back that blank white page.”

Trell’s eyes narrowed above his veil. “There were no scrub marks inside my head.”

“That’s why it’s so damnably difficult to say if your memories were taken or not. So far as we know, there’s no one alive in the Five Provinces who could do such a thing.”

Kara had not mentioned the graybacks, the Thinking Trees, or the way he walked on a broken leg, but she had said far more than Halde would have liked. Halde was right about one thing — until she understood what glyphs had been scribed on Trell, there was no point in speculating. Doing so would only worry or confuse him.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Trell said quietly. “When I asked you in the recovery room why you trusted me, you told me it was because you were a good judge of people. You are not alone in that. I trust you with my life.”

Kara looked at him with eyes wide. “Trell, I—”

He stiffened. “Stop!”

Kara jerked in her saddle. She twisted forward just in time to see what had alarmed him. Her breakfast rose in her throat.

A wooden signpost stood at a fork in the distance, but it was the things hanging from it that turned her stomach. A man and a woman, stripped naked and pale as sheets on a line. Their blackened fingers were clenched and crusted with dried blood. Their eyes were missing, plucked out by hungry crows or something far worse. Their mouths hung open wider than any mouth should.

Kara did not know who they were, but she knew they had died recently. She knew they had died in horrific pain. The dozens of lacerations on their naked bodies made that chillingly clear. She tried to breathe and found she couldn’t.

Jair leapt from the wagon and marched forward.

“Drown me in burning oil,” Byn whispered as he halted his horse beside theirs. “Are those—”

“The woman’s name was Starra Meifang.” Jair walked past the line of horses, on foot. “That was her husband, Murren. Ten years married. They lived in Taven’s Hamlet with two children, Ranna and Cho. Ranna watched something drag her parents into the night.”

“Are they still here?” Kara heard her voice shaking and didn’t care. “Can they tell you who did this to them?”

“Only Ranna.” Jair’s voice had that distant, flat tone again. “She and Cho came to find their parents, but Cho fell into a ravine. Ranna couldn’t get him out. She came here looking for help and safety. Instead, she found the monster that tortured her parents to death.”

Jair’s hand went to his forehead. He fell to one knee. Kara dropped off Charger in a moment and Trell and Byn dropped off their geldings as well. Kara reached Jair first and helped him stand up. He turned to them, eyes wet.

“What happened to her, Jair?” Byn demanded. “What happened to Ranna?”

“The monster murdered her. She died with only a moment of pain. She saw nothing but a flash of yellow teeth.”

Byn breathed deep. “Thank the Five.”

“The Five had nothing to do with this. The horrors Ranna witnessed are tormenting her spirit, making it impossible for her to find where she needs to be. I’m going to help her find Cho and send them both to their parents. It will take some time.”

Sera and Aryn had both joined them while Jair spoke. Sera refused to look at the bodies, wet eyes focused on the earth. Kara decided right then to hug her. Aryn walked for the signpost.

Kara glanced at him and frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To cut them down.” Aryn pulled a small glittering blade from beneath his cloak. “We’re going to bury them.”

After Aryn cut down the two murdered villagers, it took Kara only a little while to find Ranna’s body. A dead little girl buried in leaves. They could not find Cho.

Trell and Byn dug the graves while Sera helped Kara wrap all three bodies in the sheets they had slept in the night before. As they worked, Jair knelt in silence and Aryn paced with his quarterstaff ready, watching both ends of the road for trouble.

Aryn joined them once Byn tamped the last of the dirt on Ranna’s grave. Kara had found only one shovel in the wagon and Byn and Trell had passed it between them, working constantly. Sera placed rocks on each grave, forming simple, unnamed cairns.

“Ranna and Cho have joined their parents.” Jair rose and looked at Kara. “Where do we go now?”

Kara had been dreading the question. “Taven’s Hamlet.”

Byn grimaced. “You think whoever murdered them is there?”

“Perhaps. If they lived there for ten years, someone will know them. Someone should be told.”

“It’s out of our way,” Aryn said. “It’ll put us a day behind, if we even get there before nightfall. It also takes us close to Tellvan.”

Kara frowned at him and Aryn raised his hands.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t go. That’s your decision. I just want you to remember that a Tellvan mage is still out there, hunting you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Byn said. “If it were me up there, I’d want someone to tell my friends and family.”

Kara hated this decision. Aryn’s concerns made a great deal of sense, even if she didn’t like it. Yet she couldn’t stop imagining Sera, naked and savaged up on that post. Or her mother.

“Trell?” She glanced at him. “What do you think we should do?”

Trell shrugged. “Aryn is right. We’ve given them a proper burial and Jair has set their souls to rights. Whoever hunts you has proven they are clever, dangerous, and far too inventive for my liking. Every moment we delay is another chance they will discover us.”

“We’re going to Taven’s Hamlet,” Sera said. Loudly.

Kara looked at her. So did everyone else.

“These people were a family, and someone murdered them and hung their bodies from a signpost. That cannot stand.” Sera looked at each of them in turn. “When we came to Solyr, we swore to defend the Five Provinces and its people.”

Once she saw she had their attention, Sera turned her gaze to Trell. “You and Aryn may be right about the danger. That doesn’t mean we can just ignore what happened here.”

“I didn’t say we should,” Trell replied softly.

“I know, but Kara’s instinct is right. More importantly, whoever did this is still out there. Taven’s Hamlet is home to dozens of families like this one. All of them could be in danger.”

“We’re agreed.” Byn clapped Kara on the back. “Taven’s Hamlet.”

“All right,” Kara said. As she made a decision she hoped wouldn’t get them murdered. Soon they were on their way.

The wheels of Jair’s wagon rumbled over loose cobblestones and crunched chunks of dried mud. They rode as they had the night before, Byn, Kara, and Trell ahead, with Aryn trailing behind.

Kara glanced often at her friends, the people whose lives were now in her hands. Tarna offered safety, and she was leading them away from it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Halde had told her in Solyr’s Memorial Garden.

Their world was once more turning toward the Underside. It had been doing so for the last ten years. After they reached Taven’s Hamlet, Kara would contact Elder Halde through the echo stone.

Robbery was inevitable on Mynt’s many roads and people were sometimes murdered, but no one stripped them naked and hung their bodies from signposts.

Not since the days of the Demonkin.

KARA AND HER DYN ENCOUNTERED the first wagon shortly after they left the fork. It held baskets of apples, still fresh. A man with a pocked face and brown hair sat against it, blood crusted around his throat. It did not take long to bury him.

They passed another wreck soon after. A fine carriage had been turned on its side. The axle beneath it had snapped, and two of its ironbound wheels were broken. There was nothing inside but blood.

The final wreck they passed was little more than a wheelbarrow with a harness lying in the mud. They saw no sign of the owner or of the animal that had pulled it. There were no footprints or blood anywhere in evidence. Just threadbare clothes and boots.

“Jair!” Kara yelled up to him as they rode. “Anything?”

“I see no one!” Jair had to shout over the team, the wagon, and the distance. “These souls have moved on!”

The sun was setting when they crested the small hill overlooking Taven’s Hamlet. The town sprawled out below them all at once, and it was everything Kara had feared. Smoke still rose from the ruins.

Even from the hill Kara could see that the homes had once been oak and brick, with fitted roofs of wooden tile. Those that still stood were charred and smoking. Others had been demolished, as if some giant palm had slammed down on them from above.

Worse yet were the bodies, hundreds of them, filling the wet dirt roads between houses. They looked like pale needles drowning in mud, people and animals cut down like wheat. The crows were a sea of tiny black bodies pecking, tearing, swallowing. Feasting.

Someone had planted a banner inside the open archway of the wall. It bore a pair of snakes coiled around each other, their opened mouths revealing fang-like swords. Kara knew who it represented.

“Tellvan bastards!” Byn glared down at the devastated hamlet. “They killed them. They killed everyone!”

“No,” Trell said.

“What do you mean, no? These were your soldiers, Trell! Your bastards!”

“Tellvan soldiers would not do this.” Trell clenched his hands around his mare’s reins. Leather crackled.

“How can you know that?” Byn slid off his horse and stormed toward Trell. “Were you with the army that did this? Would you even remember if you were?”

“Stop it.” Aryn dropped off his horse and stepped between them. “Trell’s right. All Tellvan who take up arms for the Seven Sheiks swear an oath by the Five. It’s called the Cairn Teyn, and it forbids them from killing civilians in time of war. It’s been their law since Warchief Tannerman slaughtered the people of Jahara.”

“That’s right.” Kara remembered Warchief Tannerman from tomes devoted to Tellvan history, a ruthless man who had threatened the Tellvan in Torn’s time. “Byn, he’s right. Calm down.”

The Cairn Teyn was but a fraction of the knowledge she had been expected to master as the royal apprentice. The sight of so many dead people had temporarily robbed her of her ability to think. How in the Six Seas did Aryn keep it all straight?

“Well,” Byn said, “there’s a lot of dead people down there who would disagree with you.” His round face remained flushed. “You think their murderers left that banner there to boast?”

“That’s exactly what I think,” Trell said. “Kara, I need to look at these bodies. We need to determine who killed whom and when.”

Kara breathed out and stared at the carnage. “All right.”

Trell adjusted his veil. “If you’re coming with me, pull your veils close. The smell can be debilitating, and the flies can carry disease.”

Kara swallowed against the fear in her throat and slid off her horse. Every fiber in her body urged her to ride away, to lead her friends to safety, but Elder Halde would never have done that. “I’ll go with you. There could be survivors.”

“We’ll all go,” Byn said, slamming the butt of his quarterstaff into the ground.

“No.” Kara squeezed his arm. “We can’t leave our wagon or the horses unprotected. You and Sera should stay here with Jair. We’ll keep in touch on our dyn disc.”

All five of them had formed the disc just before they left Solyr. Each of them had touched a bloody finger to a ring of bone powder. The enchantment allowed them to talk, in their minds, across short distances, sometimes as great as half a league. Mages called this mindspeak, and Sera was better at it than everyone else.

“I’m sorry.” Sera walked to the edge of the rise and sat down, retching quietly. “I’m supposed to be stronger. Bloodmenders are stronger.”

“Hey.” Byn rushed to her side. “Listen. What’s down there is horrible, more horrible than anyone should ever have to see.” He knelt and touched her shoulder. “You’re not failing anyone.”

Aryn’s hand clenched when Byn touched Sera, and Kara almost punched him. She forced herself to calm down. This place sickened everyone, and they were all dealing however they could.

“Aryn,” Kara said, “you’re coming with us.”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “What? Of course.”

“You’ll be okay down there? Among the bodies?” It felt so callous to call them that. They had been people, families.

“I’ll be fine.” Aryn pulled his veil tight across his face. “I’ll go wherever you need me.”

Kara turned to the wagon. “Jair, see if you can discover anything from the souls of this place. See if they can tell us who killed them.”

Jair just nodded, eyes looking far past the devastated hamlet. Kara looked at Trell. His torasel cloak hung open and the hilt of his broadsword shone inside, obvious to anyone. There would be no more hiding his sword. They were beyond that now.

The descent to the village, on foot, seemed to take no time at all, but only because Kara wanted it to take so much longer. Hordes of crows moved from body to body as they approached, like wake spreading from a boat. Flies were everywhere, and Kara was grateful for her thick cloak. Her eyes burned and her stomach churned.

Most of the people in Taven’s Hamlet had died fleeing or on their knees. One man’s head was missing. Another woman sheltered two dead children, her skull caved in by a mace. Two men in leather armor marking them as constables had died back to back, all but cut in half by a single massive blade.

So many dead men, women, and children were at Kara’s feet that she had trouble seeing them as people. People didn’t die like this. She did not allow herself to focus on any one body or face. She could imagine her mother among these bodies, sightless eyes staring.

Trell knelt by one body among dozens, waving off the flies, and peered down. “This one’s Tellvan.”

“Can you…” Kara gagged. “Can you tell how he died?”

“His wounds suggest a pitchfork.”

Kara now saw the wounds of which Trell spoke; three round, pus-filled craters in the Tellvan man’s chest. Trell put two fingers into them and twisted them around. A sucking sound emerged.

Aryn pulled away his veil and vomited, falling to his knees and shaking. Kara almost did as well, but she had learned to master her stomach while on tiny vessels rolling in a choppy sea. She felt so sick she wondered if Aryn’s way was better.

“These wounds came after he died.” Trell rose and brushed at the gunk on his fingers. “No pitchfork killed him. He was already dead when whoever did this drove the fork into his body.”

Kara measured her breathing inside her veil. Even through the thick cloth, the air smelled horrible. A miasma of rot. “You’re saying someone left his body here after they did this?”

“It is the only explanation. Tellvan soldiers would not leave a fallen comrade behind. These murderers were not Tellvan.”

Aryn stood and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his torasel cloak. “Then we were right.” He wrapped his veil tightly across his face. “So who killed them?”

“Does it even matter?” Trell’s blue eyes narrowed. “How many wars have started over an atrocity one side attributed to the other?
This
is the reason Tellvan and Mynt are at war.”

Trell’s theory made perfect sense. Someone wanted to start a war between Mynt and Tellvan, and if they had not succeeded yet, news of Taven’s Hamlet would certainly aid their cause. Kara pulled out the small green stone Halde had given her.

“That’s an echo stone.” Aryn blinked. “Where did you get it?”

“Elder Halde gave it to me. In case of an emergency.”

Trell nodded. “This is certainly the time.”

Kara sliced her index finger and touched it to the stone. It glowed green. “Elder Halde?”

Kara held the stone before her face, not certain whether it should be at mouth or eye level. It felt very awkward, talking to a stone. The strangeness of it helped take her mind off the terrible sights around them. The slaughter. The dead people.

“This is Kara. I must speak with you. Can you hear me?”

Halde offered no response. The sun had vanished below the horizon as they descended. It left the sky and village tinted as red as the blood that had run through its streets. Kara put no stock in omens, but if she did, that would have been a very bad one.

Kara, Trell, and Aryn stared at the glowing stone until it grew fully dark. Clouds blew in while they waited, obscuring the stars, and soon the light from the stone was all they had. No reply came. Finally, Byn’s voice spoke inside her mind.

“Where are you? What’s happening down there?”

“Trell found a Tellvan,”
Kara thought back,
“but he’s certain the man was dead before he arrived. We think whoever killed these people killed the soldier, then made it look like they killed each other.”

“Trell’s not exactly the most unbiased source.”

Kara felt a rush of frustration.
“He wouldn’t lie to us.”

“Kara, he wouldn’t even remember if he was lying.”

“Enough of that,”
Sera thought to them. Of all their mindspeak, hers was the loudest and cleanest.
“You need to come back up here right now. Jair hasn’t moved since you left, and we can’t seem to snap him out of his trance.”

Aryn’s eyes met hers. “That never happens. I’ve known Jair since he scribed his first Soulmage glyph. Others sometimes got lost when they projected during training, but never Jair. Not once. If he’s not back, something is very wrong.”

“There’s nothing else to discover here.” Trell looked toward the distant rise. “We can go when you’re ready.”

“All right. Just let me take one last look around.” Kara took the dream world and drew the glyph of Theotrix, the great falcon. Beastrulers used it to enhance their sight, and it would allow her to view the village as a whole. If people still lived, she would find them.

White pain flashed inside Kara’s eyes just before she collapsed. She vomited all over the ground. The world spun around her, as did cries she didn’t recognize. Hands were on her, but they felt cold and clammy. Finally, retching in agony, she remembered who she was.

“Kara!” Trell shouted. “Speak to me!”

Kara’s guts were twisting in upon themselves, her throat burning. She suffered from a sickness that infested her blood, a sickness that should not be possible. “Carrow root,” she croaked.

“What?” Trell did not understand, but Aryn did. He cursed.

“Carrow root is a rare plant that grows in the highest peaks of the Ranarok mountain range. The juice pollutes the blood, imbibed in drink or lathered on food.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Trell demanded.

“We use it to control mages who violate the Tassau Treaties or use their power to threaten the Five Provinces. Once ingested, any attempt to scribe glyphs sickens and weakens the caster.”

Kara pushed herself up, still trembling. She smacked her lips against the raw taste of orange peels. She could ill afford to be without glyphs at the moment.

“The root’s effects are temporary,” Kara said. “It can’t hurt you as long as you don’t keep trying to glyph. Where did I ingest it?”

“One way to find out.” Aryn cut his finger and scribed the Hand of Heat on his quarterstaff. He cried out and collapsed, writhing, as his finger healed over on its own.

Kara blinked at him. Since when did Aryn risk himself to help others? She dismissed that thought as petty. What was important was he was sick as well. They all were.

“Byn, Sera, Jair, listen to me very carefully. I think our morning’s meat was tainted with carrow root.”

Horror filled Sera’s next thought.
“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.”
Kara did know that Solyr’s elders controlled access to the root. They stored it in a warded vault in the Solyr Council Chamber that only they could access. The elders had prepared their provisions. An elder at Solyr had betrayed them.

“Help Aryn up,” Kara ordered. “Whoever’s after me knows we’re not in Solyr. If they aren’t already coming for us, they will be soon.”

Betrayed. They had been betrayed. Everything — the bodies at the signpost, their detour to Taven’s Hamlet, the slaughter drawing them in — it could all have been a trap. A trap set by her mysterious pursuer. The man who wanted to feed her to the Mavoureen.

Trell threw Aryn’s arm over his shoulder. Together, the three of them headed back to Sera, Byn, and Jair. Aryn stumbled and retched, but he walked on bravely. Kara respected his strength.