Songreaver (6 page)

Serepheni knelt beside the boy on the ground
and wrapped her arms around him.

They held each other and wept.

Chapter Six

One hundred zombies labored throughout the
following day, building a cairn of white stones high above Jedda's
grave. Built atop the tallest hill in the area, it would be seen
for miles in every direction.

Jedda had been buried in her Peacebringer's
habit with a shroud of plain white linen. Her brother, his white
robe now mended and cleaned, stood beside Serepheni, one hand in
hers, the other supporting Jedda's white metal staff. Her only
possession in life, it now belonged to him.

As an undead soldier lay the final stone upon
the cairn, the necromancers and ghouls of the camp gathered round
to pay their respects to the stranger.

After a long silence, Serepheni spoke, "I'm
afraid that I don't know any Peacebringer rituals."

They all turned in surprise when Chunnley
stepped forward. "I know a little," the ghoul said, "What my Ma
taught me."

Max nodded at him, and Chunnley loped forward
to lay his great shaggy paws against the white stones of Jedda's
cairn.

"Oh, Maker of Lights and Weaver of the First
Song, hear us now," Chunnley cried out, his head bowed and eyes
clenched tightly shut. His voice sounded different, as though he
was trying to remember the words of another, "One... One who loved
you seeks passage to your hall... Show her the way... Show her the
path and welcome her, that she may join her light to the many...
that she... that she may light the way for us in shadow."

Banden sniffled and then sobbed, breaking
down as Chunnley spoke the death-rites over his sister's grave.
Jedda's staff slipped from his hand and fell. The boy tried to
catch it, but it dropped between him and Garrett, ringing against
the rough stones of the hilltop.

Garrett jumped to catch it before it rolled
away, grabbing the staff with his right hand. A jolt of power shot
through his arm when he touched it, staggering him backwards as he
released his grasp on the thing. For a moment, he felt a great
weight on his chest, as though he had just learned some ancient
secret, too terrible to bear alone. Then, the tingling in his arm
faded, and the dreadful sense of duty fell away.

Banden scooped up the staff with both hands
and clutched it to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
Serepheni stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"As we remember those who have gone before,"
Chunnley said, opening his eyes to look back at the boy, "Remember
us."

A cool wind blew across the hilltop,
whistling through the loosely packed stones above the grave, and
all bowed their heads. The wind carried the scent of growing things
from the forest below, and Garrett felt a sudden swell of emotion,
like homesickness for a place he had never been.

"Thank you," Serepheni said to Chunnley.

The brown ghoul nodded and stepped away from
the grave.

All watched as Banden slowly approached the
cairn and knelt on the grass beside it. He lay his sister's staff
across his knees and reached out to put a shaking hand on a white
stone. His lips moved in a silent
Goodbye
.

Serepheni came and took Banden's hand,
leading him off down the hill and speaking softly to him. Most of
the ghouls gamboled off, discussing the peculiarities of human
death rituals, as the necromancers who had survived the war
dispersed to tend their own duties.

Cenick and Garrett walked with Chunnley as
the big brown ghoul descended the hill, looking a bit wistful.

"I didn't know you were religious," Cenick
said.

"Me?" Chunnley said, raising his bristly
eyebrows, "Oh, no more than any other ghoul, I mean the dead are
our livin', so to speak, so we're all bound to be a little spooky.
Just my Ma was... well, it was important to her, and I remember her
fondly 's'all."

"It was really nice," Garrett said, rubbing
his arm, "what you said for her."

Chunnley smiled. "Never hurts to show some
gratitude for the dead... after all they done for us."

"What's wrong with your arm?" Cenick
asked.

"Oh, nothing," Garrett said, "It's just that
staff kinda stung me when I tried to pick it up."

Cenick frowned. "Let me see your arm," he
said. They stopped walking as Cenick and Chunnley stared at
Garrett.

Garrett hesitated, but Cenick's stern look
overcame that. He pulled up the sleeve of his robe to reveal his
bare arm. The old dragonfire scars stretched from wrist to shoulder
along the outside of his arm, but the staff had left no visible
mark of its effect on him.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Chunnley said,
"Peacebringer magic's not for harmin'. I don't reckon it would hurt
the boy."

"Hmm," Cenick said, and he nodded at Garrett
to roll down his sleeve again.

As they made their way to the bottom of the
hill, Garrett asked, "Who are the Peacebringers?"

"An order from the North," Cenick said, "I
believe they came from Chadiria, but were driven out by the priests
of Malleatus long ago."

"Nah," Chunnley said, "They're older than
that. The old religion's been around as long as time. The
Peacebringers was just one group of 'em. Maybe all that's left now
though."

"
If
that," Cenick said, "I haven't
seen a Peacebringer in years. I thought they were all killed when
the Chadiri took the Free Cities."

"What were they doing here?" Garrett
asked.

"Perhaps they were traveling to Wythr, just
as we are," Cenick said, "With Astorra under the Chadirian banner,
Wythr is the last haven west of the mountains."

"What's on the other side of the mountains?"
Garrett asked, suddenly curious.

Cenick raised an eyebrow. "The rest of the
world, Garrett," he said, "wilds and deserts and jungles, towns and
cities and places yet unmapped."

"Oh," Garrett said, looking thoughtful.

"What is it?" Cenick asked.

Garrett shrugged. "I just thought the Chadiri
owned everything else, and we were the last ones left fighting
them."

Cenick smiled. "The Empire is big," he said,
"but the world is bigger. There are people in lands far away that
have never even heard of a Chadiri... or a necromancer."

Garrett pondered this as they neared the
bottom of the hill. "So why don't we just go over the mountains?"
he asked.

"And let Wythr fall and our homes be burned
to ash by the enemy?" Cenick said.

Garrett blushed. "I mean... I don't
know."

Chunnley spoke up, "I know what you mean,
boy. Sometimes it's just easier to run and find a new place to
hide. Problem is, when you've run away from too many lions, you
start runnin' from mice. Sooner or later, you gotta turn and show
your teeth, else you'll just run yourself to nothin'."

"Someone has to fight the Chadiri," Cenick
said, "It was just our fortune to be next in line. If we fall, then
the forests of the Fae will feel the red axe. After that, the
Chadiri would own the West, all the way to the eternal ice. The
mountains would become their bulwark, and then they would turn
their eyes to the east. People that now sleep in peace would, one
day, wake to the beat of Chadiri drums. At the very least, we may
buy them a few more happy days, unstained by the hate of
Malleatus."

"I'm sorry," Garrett said.

"None of us wished for this, Garrett," Cenick
said, "It isn't wrong to want peace. That's what makes us different
from them... and every one of us thinks about running away
sometimes."

"Not Max," Garrett laughed.

Cenick shook his head. "You've never shared a
tent with him," he said.

"Huh?"

"If you'd ever had to hold him down and shake
him awake from one of his nightmares," Cenick said, "You would know
what he hides behind that silver mask."

Garrett said nothing.

"Max was only seventeen when he was called
home from school," Cenick said, "He arrived at his father's estate
the day after the Inquisitor had visited to test the
purity
of Lord Zara and his family's allegiance to their new masters."

"Prex?" Garrett asked, feeling sick to his
stomach.

Cenick nodded. "Max had stayed an extra day
in Weslae to say his goodbyes before heading home. It saved his
life, though he will never forgive himself for it... He found the
ashes of his family scattered in the courtyard.

"He searched the house just long enough to
find his father's sword and then burned the estate to the ground
rather than leave it for the Chadiri. After that, he started
walking north with no other intention than to kill every Chadiri
that he could find. Fortunately, Uncle Tinjin was riding the road
that night, and Max was too weak to fight well."

"He attacked Uncle Tinjin?" Garrett
asked.

Cenick nodded. "Sometimes, you can be so full
of hate that everyone looks like the enemy. Lucky for us that
Tinjin is good with that staff. He shattered Max's sword with one
blow, and the boy broke down, crying in the road. Uncle saw him for
what he was then, and Fate picked up another bright thread to weave
into her dark tapestry."

Loose stones clattered beneath the heavy
hooves of Max's undead charger as he rode up beside them. "Why so
glum, ye merry keepers of the dead?" he hailed them. He had his
helmet on, but his visor was up, and a bit of the weariness was
gone from his eyes.

"Hi, Max," Garrett said. Cenick and Chunnley
nodded their greetings.

"I need every necromancer in the command tent
in half an hour," Max said.

"What is it?" Cenick asked.

Max's lips thinned, and his eyes went to
where Serepheni now walked, quietly talking with the boy Banden,
some distance away. Max lowered his voice. "We'll be arriving back
at Wythr in three days," he said, "and we may meet with...
resistance. I want to be ready."

Cenick's face darkened, and he nodded.

Max looked at Chunnley. "You're senior ghoul
now, with Bargas gone," he said, "You and your people may not want
to be a part of this. The sisterhood, as far as we know, has made
no move against the ghouls of Marrowvyn. That might change, if you
took part in an assault."

Chunnley looked suddenly afraid, but, after a
moment, he answered, "I don't like to speak for the ghouls in a
town I've never even visited, but Bargas left me in his place, and
I know him well enough now to know that he would never leave a
friend in a fight alone, if he could help him... so, yeah, we're
with you."

"Where will the priestess stand, if it comes
to that?" Cenick asked.

Max looked troubled for a moment. "She'll be
standing by me, no matter what happens," he said with a smile.

"And if she turns on us?" Cenick asked.

Max shook his head and grinned. "All lovers
fight from time to time," he laughed, "Sere will be fine. We just
have to handle things with a certain...
diplomatic
aggression
."

"I'm serious, Max," Cenick said, "You need to
be ready... in case."

Max reached up and snapped his visor down.
The grim silver skull stared down at them. "I'm always ready," Max
said, "Be certain that you are as well."

They watched him ride away, his mummified
stallion bearing down on Jitlowe and a few others as they hastened
to avoid his notice.

Fear fluttered in Garrett's chest. "Do you
think we'll have to fight our way back into the city?" he
asked.

Cenick shook his head. "I don't think they
would dare to deny us reentry," he said, "but the ownership of this
army is likely to be a point of contention, and Max may wish to rub
the sisterhood's nose in their failure to support us... especially
after they declared us all dead and seized our assets. One side is
going to have to back down, and... well, you know Max."

Garrett's eyes fell.

Cenick clapped him on the back and chuckled.
"Cheer up, Garrett," he said, "It is the doom of every necromancer
to be murdered by a zealot. Does it really matter what color that
zealot is wearing?"

Garrett frowned. "That doesn't cheer me up at
all."

Chapter Seven

Long columns of dead soldiers tramped flat
the dry scrub brush of the foothills beneath Mount Padras. The
winter wind snatched the dried mud from the clothing and armor in
which they had died, whipping up a somber gray cloud above the
silent army. Above the treeless wastes, the dark city of Wythr
looked down like a disapproving father upon the return of his
wayward son.

Max and Serepheni rode together at the head
of the army with Garrett, astride Ghausse's back, a short distance
behind. Serepheni bantered with Max, her cheerful words like bright
waves, lapping against the black stone of Max's gloom. Max rode
with his visor up and a thin smile on his grim face. He nodded and
grunted from time to time at something Serepheni would say, but
Garrett could tell that his mind was already miles ahead, at the
gates of the twilight city, preparing for the confrontation that
might be waiting there.

Garrett wished Cenick was with them, but the
tattooed necromancer was riding at the head of his own column of
undead soldiers, ready to lead them into action to reclaim his
home.

"Max," Serepheni said, "I told you it will be
fine. I wish you would have let the boy ride with us. He shouldn't
be left alone right now."

Garrett's mind snapped to attention, but then
he realized that he wasn't
the boy
anymore. He smiled to
himself with a swell of pride to realize that he was an officer in
the Gloaran army now.
And a Templar in training
, another
voice in his head reminded him, and his moment of pride sucked in a
mouthful of foreboding and swiftly drowned.

"It is neither seemly nor safe to have a
vagabond orphan riding at the head of the mightiest army afield,"
Max snapped.