The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (123 page)

There was silence in the camp
and he studied her for a moment.

“You are a clever girl. And
dangerous.”

“You are the one choosing to
laugh in the face of an Oracle.”

“Feline pelts are remarkable
things, are they not?” And he moved in closer, his eyes roaming over her face,
her lithe young body. “His back had rings on it, with a spot in the center of
each. They made perfect bullseyes for my archers.”

“Your wife died calling your
name.”

“So you say.”

“It is true.”

“Then…” He raised a hand to
stroke her throat, ran his fingers down to her chest. “I suppose I need a new
one.”

“Fire!” came a shout from the
camp.

“Riders!” came a shout from the
bridge and the Legion snapped to attention, including Temujiin Altan. He looked
away for only a heartbeat, when Setse drove the heel of her palm up and under
his chin. He staggered and like a dancer, she dropped her head down and swung
her leg behind her, high over her back to crack his forehead with her foot. She
whirled, struck him again with her fist and he dropped into the snow.

“Just like monkeys,” she said,
grabbing his dagger and bolting into the crowd.

***

The fires in the camp had roared
to life, catching on anything and everything that would catch. Blankets,
cedars, scraps of clothing and the villagers of Lon’Gaar tried in vain to put
them out, scooping handfuls of snow and hard earth over the flames. The bridge
was clattering with the sound of hooves but the Legion had been out of position
and now they scrambled for any sort of cover. The bridge itself could not be
seen as a wall of flame rippled and danced at its mouth, making targeting
impossible. Arrows loosed either caught fire before they flew or were snatched
out of the sky by an owl and dropped back over the camp.

Three Imperial horses leapt
through the wall of flame, running down and stomping any dog foolish enough or
sluggish enough to stay in their path. They were followed by warriors moving so
swiftly that they were difficult to see. A lion in armour the colour of blood,
swinging the fabled double swords and lashing a tail that could take down
trees. A woman wrapped in smoke and shadow, leaping and striking and leaving a
trail of soldiers in her wake. And finally, a dog sending arrow after arrow
into legs, shoulders, arms and feet, wounding many, killing none.

It was over in a very short time
as villagers and soldiers were corralled in the heart of the camp, circled by
walls of crackling fire. Children wailed and women moaned while tending the
wounded. Outside, the horses snorted and pawed at the rocky ground and the dog
perched high on a rock, arrows leveled, making sure no one would leave the
protective circle of the flames.

Kirin stood, hands on hips, both
Blood and Jade Fang sheathed at the moment and he surveyed the people inside
the circle of flame.

“Who is your Alpha?” he asked.
The Alchemist translated and many heads turned to a small, slim man with a scar
on his chin. “What is your name,
sidi?”

The man spit on the ground.
Kirin ignored it.

“We are here on a mission of
peace but we will kill all of you if you do not cooperate. Do you understand?”

Again, the Alchemist translated
and again, the Alpha spat.

“Ancestors are rising in the
west. We must present a united front against them or all our Kingdoms will
fall.”

Like an echo, Sherah translated
every word and at the word for Ancestors, there was a murmur from the group.

The Alpha growled.

“He says there are no
Ancestors,” said Sherah.

“But there are. Surely you saw
their star last year.”

Anther translation, another
murmur.

“This is a trick of war,” said
the Alpha through the Alchemist. “You are invading our land to take more for
yourselves. Your Wall is not enough for you.”

“If we were trying to take your
land, we would not be having this conversation.”

There was nothing said for
several long moments.

“Two of our team are missing. A
yellow cat and a blue-eyed wolf. Where are they?”

Sherah translated once more but
the Alpha said nothing.

There was a rush of wings and an
owl dropped from the dark sky to settle onto the snow.

Kirin looked at the Alchemist
before stepping over to the bird.

“Where is your Seer?” he asked.

The bird blinked one eye.

“Take us to Yahn Nevye.”

The bird blinked the next.

He sighed, remembering that it
was not words the falcons of
Sha’Hadin
understood and responded to. It
stood to reason that it was the same with owls.

He closed his eyes and formed a
picture of the jaguar in his mind.

The bird spread its wings and
left the snow, disappearing into the blackness of the winter trees. Kirin
looked at the Alchemist and followed.

***

They found the jaguar suspended
by arms and legs between two twisted trees. He was high in the air and stripped
to the waist. He had been used for target practice, as many arrows stuck out of
the rosettes on his back like the spines of some great dragon. Blood ran down
his sides, dark stripes along his spotted pelt.

Setse sat on her knees beneath
him, blood dripping onto her head and freezing as it matted on her face. She was
a terrifying sight.

“Shar Ma’uul dead,” she said in
a hollow voice.

Kirin moved forward, sliding the
Blood Fang from its sheath. He sliced first the bindings at the ankles, then
the wrists, taking the body as it slumped across his shoulders. He laid it,
face down, onto the snowy rocks and Sherah knelt to examine the wounds. There
were more than a dozen arrows embedded within the rings of his pelt and she
removed them swiftly, dropping them into a pile by her knees. She studied the
punctures, the pelt and the skin, the depth of the entries and the organs they
had pierced.

“This one first,” she said
softly. “To the kidney. Then here liver, here lung and here spine. He felt them
all until the last arrow to the heart here.”

Kirin watched with detachment as
she rolled the body over. The arrows were shallow and did not go through. Like
most patterned cats, his chest and belly were white and as he lay like this on
the rocks, he looked like he was sleeping if one did not look at the blood at
his mouth. If one did not look at his eyes. The Alchemist quietly closed them.

He glanced over at the Oracle
covered in blood. She had not moved.

He sighed, knelt down next to
the Alchemist.

“Is there nothing you can do?”

She turned her great golden eyes
on him.
“Sidi?”

“I know what you did for the
Seer back in the forest of
Turakhee
. Can you do the same for this man?”

“Necromancy is a dark art,
sidi.
It requires the bartering of souls. As you can see, I no longer carry a soul
purse…”

He nodded. He remembered it
well, the strange, unearthly, red pouch that had floated on spider silk and
haunted her every step.

“But,” she said. “There might be
a way…”

She bit her lip and he felt
himself being pulled into her once again, back into her world of riddles and
mystery and wonder.

“Tell me.”

“It is dangerous. And costly.”

“I owe them,” he said. “It was
my pride that chased both of them into this trap. Tell me what I need do and I
will pay it.”

“Just say you wish it,
sidi,
and it will be done.”

He could have sworn there were
tears gathering behind her lashes. His clawless hands ached to brush them away.

“I wish it,
sidala.”

She nodded, dropped her eyes to
the body at her knees and suddenly, there were candles where there were none
before.

“Return the girl to her brother
.
I will do what I can.”

“Thank you. I am in your debt.”

“Of course.”

But she did not look up, and for
that he was grateful.

He lingered a moment longer
before rising to his feet and gathering the Oracle in his arms.

***

Kerris sat against the metal
wall, arms draped across his knees, the tip of his tail tapping in time with
his breathing. Another creature had tried its luck, charging him from the
shadows but again, this attack was met with claws and the smell of blood was
heavy on the sand. Everyone in the cell was giving him a wide berth but the
silhouettes of Ancestors had completely blocked out the sun.

He was very tired but he
didn’t dare sleep. Not with the level of frustration and anger in this cell.
The metal was whispering to him. It was very old and rather strong but there
were places where the air had rendered it fragile and thin. It was good to
know, for he was a-wanting out of this place. He needed to wait until the
Ancestors grew bored and stopped peering down on him from above. It was like
living in a cage.

He looked around. His eyes
had adjusted to the darkness and he could see eight others in this particular
cell. Three were simian but of races he did not recognize from his time spent
in the Eastern Kingdom. Four were rat-like but again, unlike any type of rat he
had ever seen and the last was simply like an Ancestor, only small and very
hairy. He wondered why they were all in here and what they had done with his
wife.

There was a scraping sound,
and then voices. He did not rise to his feet.

Three Ancestors entered the
cell, dressed in dark green fabric and face masks, carrying sticks and shields
for protection. One Ancestor made his way to him, pointed something that looked
like a bronze bo or staff.

“Where’s my wife?” Kerris
snarled. He was far too tired for diplomacy.

They locked eyes for a brief
moment before the man turned, spoke to his companions. They nodded.

“Where is my wife?” Kerris
repeated.

The stick coughed and there
was a stinging in the pelt of his chest. He looked down, pulled out what appeared
to be a tiny needle, much smaller than those used by his mother for the beading
of cushions. He rose to his feet, but his legs had become the roots of gum
trees and he staggered to his knees. The cell erupted in hollering and he knew
the prisoners had rushed but everything began to spin as the masked face of the
Ancestor bent down over him with a strip of metal, growing wider and wider
until there was nothing else in the whole world.

***

The dog abandoned his post the
moment he saw his sister. It was expected, Kirin thought. The boy wasn’t a cat,
wasn’t even a soldier and Kirin forgave him the breach of protocol as he handed
the girl over. From the corner of his eye, he could see movement within the
circle and he turned, drawing both Fangs and snarling. The Legion backed down,
wary but waiting.

Kirin removed the saddle from
Shenan, freed him and aSiffh to hunt. There was a flurry of wings and a rabbit
dropped to the snow near the fire circle. He looked up to see the owl, staring
at him from a rock.

“Thank you,” he said, not
knowing if owls could understand normal speech or if their communications were
restricted to the thoughts of their Seers. With Nevye dead, there would be
little for the creature to do and he wondered if it would remain with the company.
The rabbits were a pleasant provision and he remembered the falcon Path. She
had been a fierce hunter. They would have starved on many occasions had it not
been for her skill.

“En yu wei?”
growled the
brother. He was dabbing the girl’s face with a rag. For her part, Setse merely
sat, arms folded around her knees, seeing nothing.
The dog looked up at him
.
“Shar
haan baidag
wei?”

Kirin shook his head. “I don’t
understand.”

“Shar?”

“Dead.” He resisted the urge to
add, ‘murdered by your people.’ He was quite certain it would not have helped.

The dog looked at his sister,
stroked the bloody pelt on her cheek.

“Can dog cat love?”

Kirin stared at him a moment. It
was a good question, as good as whether a lion and a sacred could love. Or a
lion and a cheetah.

“I don’t know anything anymore,
sidi.”
He sighed. “I suppose it is possible.”

The owl stretched its wings,
left the rock and disappeared into the darkness.

It was a long, cold night as
they waited, the dog and his sister on the ground, Kirin and the Alchemist’s
horse standing guard by the fire. There was no wind and Kirin was grateful. He
wasn’t convinced that neither the Legion nor the villagers would remain
imprisoned if not for the flames.

At some point, Setse took a long
shuddering breath, whispered to herself.

“Setse, yu?”
asked the
dog.

“Eye of the Needle,” she said.

Kirin turned around to look at
her.

“Eye of the Needle, Eye of the
Storm.”

Slowly, as if in a dream, she
rose to her feet.
 

“Eye of the Needle, Eye of the
Storm.”

Her brother seemed quite undone,
for he merely watched her from his place on the ground.

“Eye of the Needle, Eye of the
Storm, Eye of the Needle, Eye of the Storm.”

She moved to stand beside Kirin
at the circle of flame, stared through to the remnants of the Legion within.
They stood and the Alpha approached on the opposite side. He raised his arms as
if shooting an arrow and grinned wickedly.

She stared at him, her lips
moving but no sound coming, and finally after a very long moment, she stepped
through the flames.

In a movement as fluid and
graceful as a dance, Setse pulled a dagger from her boot and plunged it into
the man’s throat.