The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way (17 page)

The king and queen looked very pale. “They said they wanted to devour you. They said they were awaiting the day of devouring.”
 

“They make to say that often,” Kinz said.
 

“They do. Princess Vilavivianna had a hard time believing it, but the serpents hate you. They really, really hate you. What we have figured out after listening to them for days is that, before the Alliance, they were nearly wiped out completely. They joined the Alliance so they’d have a chance to build up their numbers again. But they’re planning an attack that will take back their lands--they’re very territorial--and it sounds like it will be soon.”
 

The king and queen looked at each other in astonishment. “This is…”
 

“You have the stones, so you’ll have plenty of chances to listen to them. It’s weird, isn’t it?”
 

They sighed. “It is. Very much so.”
 

“This is what I’m offering in exchange for the cart,” Cazia said. “Those two stones and the knowledge that you have a traitor in your Alliance. And obviously, the serpents are not large enough to swallow people whole--”
 

“But they could kidnap them,” Alisimbo said. “They could capture men and bring them into their lands to build structures…chicken coops or goat pens, and then raise the animals themselves. Who knows how many of their kind are living inside the border of their own lands?”
 

“The Straim will protect you from The Blessing for a while,” Cazia said, “but not forever. No matter how valiant your warriors, you can’t fight the grunts and the serpents both. Give me the cart. Kinz and I will go into the west, where my cousin is searching for a spell that will turn the war against them.”
 

“And you would swear to bring this spell to us?” Silvisbemuntu asked.
 

“For Ivy’s family? Her people? I absolutely would. I swear it.”
 

They didn’t seem to mind the use of her nickname now. “But not with our daughter,” Alisimbo said. “You can not take Vilavivianna with you when you go. One of her older brothers, perhaps…”
 

Cazia glanced at Kinz, who wrinkled her nose. “It is not the good idea to give us the brother. He would make more use here with you.”

“Agreed. She should remain here with her family. Not because she’s too young to face danger, but because her people need her.”
 

Kinz kept her voice low. “She will not make to like this arrangement.”
 

The queen adjusted her fine robes. “She will learn to live with it. To make this easier for her and for you, we will arrange for you to leave before dawn. When she wakes, you will already be gone.”
 

“Fine,” Cazia said, feeling that it was a bad decision, but she could not take the princess away from her parents again. “Which leads us to our next bargain.”
 

Ivy’s parents stared at her in shock. “You wish to make another bargain?”
 

“I do. Tonight, after we eat, I will make three more of these translation stones for you, one for the Toal, one for the Winsoll, and one for…Great Way, I’ve forgotten.”

“The Peshkoll,” Alisimbo said. “Do not fret about forgetting them. They are quite forgettable.”
 

Well. “One each, and you two will be the ones handing them out when you tell your allies about the serpents.”
 

“A great boon,” the queen said. “What will you ask in return?”

“First, a small thing, but you’ll have to provide the crystal quartz for the stones.”

“That will be no hardship,” the queen said. “What is the large thing?”

“Tonight, the three of us will tell you what we did, where we went, and what we saw. We’re going to be completely honest with you. All I ask is that you swear to believe it. For your daughter’s sake, because I know how hard it will be for her if you don’t.”

Chapter 10

It was after midday when Tejohn came to the next village. Before he saw any signs of habitation, the wind blowing in his face brought him the sounds of wailing. He crouched low and crept forward on his belly. At the first tall cluster of standing stones, Tejohn removed his helm and peered ahead.
 

There were more mud houses--so dark, they were practically black--strung along another long slope that had been mostly cleared of rocks. The villagers were also in full view. They sat together in an open space at the center of the little settlement. The way they were clustered, they might have been huddling against icy weather. Every few moments, one of them would moan; to Tejohn’s ears, they weren’t cries of the injured. They were cries of grief. Scrutinizing them more carefully, he saw that each of them had been bloodied.
 

Great Way, he knew what that meant. They’d received The Blessing and awaited their transformation. Grunts must have been patrolling nearby, probably behind the rocks where Tejohn could not see.

He was downwind of them, so the grunts were unlikely to pick up his scent, and he would have to make quite a loud noise to be heard over the wind. Still, he stayed low in the crevice, watching the villagers in their goatskin clothes and seashell decorations, and he waited for a patrolling grunt to move into his line of sight.
 

Tejohn lay unmoving among the rocks for most of the afternoon without satisfaction. At the farmhouse in Finstel lands, the grunts had walked circuits around their victims to protect them. Was Tejohn’s vantage point too high, allowing a blue grunt to pass beneath his view? Or perhaps there was a purple grunt that guarded its victims from a stationary spot.

Whichever creature it was, he could not fight it. He didn’t dare. Even if there was only one grunt and he managed to win the fight again, the injuries he’d suffer would mean the end of his mission.
 

How to get around them, though? There were no trails leading higher into the mountain, and Tejohn did not have the skills or the gear to climb cliffs, let alone climb them without being seen. It would be easier to move downslope, but that would put him closer to the alligaunts. The only plan he could come up with was one he absolutely did not want to risk: to lie in hiding, wait for the villagers to transform, then hope they missed him when they dispersed in search of prey.
 

But as much as Tejohn hated that plan, it seemed to be the only one available to him. He retreated out of sight.

Finally, just before the sun dipped behind the mountains, he heard a loud squawk. It sounded like a bird’s cry echoing out of a barrel. He quietly slipped out of his hiding place and peered up the hill.
 

Something moved. He had to blink and squint to make sense of what he was seeing: the movement--that
thing
--was a bird, he realized. A bird with black and silver stripes on its feathers, massive legs and feet, and stubby, useless little wings. After a moment of disbelief, he realized it stood a full head taller than him.
 

But it was the huge, curved beak that really caught his attention. That was the weapon that had done so much damage to the corpses he’d seen yesterday. The curving talons on the creature’s feet were long enough to gut an okshim, but that beak was broader than the biggest axe Tejohn had ever seen, and it looked extremely sharp. The young man with the broken maul had not had his head lopped off; it had been bitten off.
 

A chill ran down Tejohn’s back. That was a ruhgrit out there. That was what the ruhgrit turned into when they received The Blessing.
 

He lowered himself out of sight and retreated to a narrow crevice deep enough for him to lower the butt of his spear without the point showing. Tejohn crouched on his pack and set his shield over top of him.
Fire, pass me by
.
 

Just as darkness settled around him, he began to hear the sounds of screaming and tearing flesh.
 

He hid through the night, listening to the sounds of transformation and retreating grunts. Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep. When he woke, daylight shone around the edges of the shield above him. Slowly, he extricated himself and crept toward the village.
 

The grunts and the…what were the names of those new creatures? Tejohn did not want to think about it. He wanted them as far away as possible, physically and mentally. In any event, the village was empty, and by the muddy tracks, he could see that The Blessing had all gone upslope, into the mountains. Were they simply hunting for more humans, or were they afraid of the water? He looked out over the black, choppy waters of Lake Windmark; anything could be out there, not just dumb, delicious alligaunts. And of course, the grunts could not swim. Tejohn did not linger there.
 

So, he traveled around the western end of the Sweeps, making plodding northward progress among the rocks. After that second day, every Durdric village and hovel he came across was deserted, and the only sign of The Blessing, in all their forms, were the shrieks and roars that echoed from the rocks above.
 

Clean, fresh water became scarce and he became even stingier with his dwindling supplies. He ate only once each day at his brief midday rest. He knew he was slowly starving himself, but no matter how many stones he threw at birds or how many times he stabbed at snakes, he could not catch them.
 

Then, one morning as he was just waking up, he saw a mound of dirt beside him rise out of the path, mold itself into a human face, and speak his name.
 

With no weapon in hand, he punched it as hard as he could, spraying the wet soil among the rocks. As he hurriedly gathered up his things, he kept glancing back at the gouge in the mud. A dream. It had to have been a dream. Still, at the first opportunity, he moved to a higher path where the way was rockier and less muddy.
 

Finally, on a rainy day when the tower was only two days’ journey, he lost his patience with sleeping in hiding places among the rocks. When he came upon three abandoned houses on a narrow plateau, he searched them, confirmed that they were empty, and settled into one for the night.
 

In the morning, he noticed piles of stones in the doorway. Fire take him. He knew it was safer to sleep in hiding, but he just couldn’t take another windy, rainy night. Now the alligaunts had left their mark, and the next time he tried to sleep, they would come for him.
 

He found jerky hanging in the rafters beside a basket of dried onions. There was a basin outside and a stand of firewood, too. Great Way, if he was going to make the mistake of taking shelter, he would going to make the most of it.
 

He stepped over the piles of stones, then refilled his skins and a little wooden bucket. The house had a fire pit with a stone basin over it. Tejohn dropped half the jerky, the best-looking onion, and a fair bit of water into it before he began building the fire. It took some time, but the bow and string fire-starter he found hanging on the wall was sturdily built, and soon the blaze was growing.
 

He took a short bow and a handful of flint arrows outside. There was no one to judge his performance, so he tried his hand at archery while waiting for the water to boil. He found he could hit the side of a building from fifteen paces, but that was it. Even putting an arrow through a gaping window--wider by a human body by half--was a difficult trick. The bow was not his friend. He tossed the weapon back inside.
 

And had to step over the stones again. Almost against his will, he took another look at them. The largest pile held thirteen smooth black stones. The smallest was a single stone alone at the end of the row. Why did they leave these beside the people they hunted? A few years back, a tavern know-it-all had insisted that they swallowed the stones to help grind up their meals. It seemed as good an explanation as any, but why make these piles, and why delay their attack to show them to him? Were they taunting him?

The water still had not boiled, so he settled down to look at the piles again. Maybe the significance was in the piles they did not make. They had skipped piles of four, six, eight, nine, ten, and twelve. They were every other number except for the nine, but what did it mean?
 

The question was absurd, obviously, because it did not mean anything. How could it? Still, Tejohn went to the edge of their little clearing and collected a handful of stones to make piles of his own.
 

It occurred to him that the alligaunts might be leaving these piles as a test. If he still had the translation stone Cazia Freewell had made for him, would their low hisses have sounded like words? He’d seen stranger things, he supposed, but he had no idea why they would want to test him before they attacked.
 

Unless this was a test of his wit and the beasts would not harm him if he passed.
 

It was a disturbing thought, not least of which because the meat in his meatbread and the jerky he was cooking looked like alligaunt tail. Tejohn went back into the house, aimlessly searching for something to throw into the pot of bubbling stew. There were a few leaves hanging beside a window; he didn’t recognize them, but he added them anyway.