Ashok looked into Ilvani’s eyes and for the first time saw the void that
He didn’t know how to comfort her. He wasn’t made for gestures like that. Even if he was, he didn’t think she would accept them. If he tried to take her hand now, she would retreat.
He felt along the ground until he found a flat piece of obsidian half-buried in the dirt and snow. He dug it out and held it up so she could see.
“This stone is real,” he said. “But it came from the funeral cairn, so it belongs to the living and the dead.” He held it out to her, and when she reached out her hand, he pressed the stone between their two palms. The cold, sharp edges dug into their skin, but their hands didn’t touch. He looked toward the valley where the gathered Tuigan ghosts had prepared to ride out to glory. “When you remember this night, remember that those shadows couldn’t touch you. The stone is this moment, here, between us. We are what’s real.”
“Real,” she echoed. She pressed against the obsidian, and Ashok pressed back, until thin trickles of blood ran down their palms. When he let go, Ilvani kept the stone, holding it in her two hands as if to make it and the blood a part of her. “We walk the darker road,” she said. “There will be more spirits after this night.”
“You mean because we’re getting closer to Rashemen?” Ashok said. “What will happen to you in that land?”
“They’re waiting for me,” Ilvani said. She sounded afraid. “The telthors and the storm are waiting to claim their pieces of me.” She closed her eyes and clutched the stone. “I wish we could live in the breath in between. Out of the shadows, away from all the spirits-right here.”
“Is that what you want, Ilvani?” Ashok said seriously. “Do you still want to go to Rashemen? If you do, I’ll take you there and back home again, but if you don’t, we can turn and walk in the opposite direction tomorrow. You only need to choose the road, and we’ll follow it.”
She searched his face. Did she doubt his word? He wanted to tell her that he was not afraid of the darker road. In the end, she said only, “I’m cold.”
“Let’s go back to camp,” Ashok said. “You don’t have to make the choice tonight. The mountains still lie between the caravan and Rashemen. We have time.”
They got back into camp well before dawn. Ashok knew he had missed his watch shift, but Skagi and Cree didn’t question him until Ilvani was asleep in the back of the wagon. Then Ashok led them out of camp and into the trees for sparring. Skagi had scouted a clearing that would serve them. On the way, Ashok told them what he and Ilvani had seen.
When he’d finished, Cree looked agitated. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. This place …” He drew his katars. The sound of steel leaving its sheath echoed loudly in the stillness. The snow-covered trees made a windbreak, though it was still bitterly cold. “On our watch shifts, sometimes I hear things, or I feel as if one of you is coming up behind me on my blind side, but then I turn and there’s nothing.” He hesitated. “There’s nothing, and yet I feel a presence so strongly, I can almost smell it.”
“I won’t pretend this place sits well with me, either,” Skagi said, “but we can talk ghosts while we train.” He spat and watched the spittle freeze in the snow. “This cold’s starting to make me feel like one of those poor dead bastards you described.”
They fanned out in a circle. Ashok drew his chain. “You two come at me first-”
“No,” said Cree, “this time I want both of you to come at me.”
Ashok and Skagi shared a glance. “Are you sure?” Ashok said.
“I can make up for the vision loss,” Cree said. Ashok saw it cost him to say the words. “But it’s not just my speed that suffers. My balance is off, and I can’t compensate in a fight. I have to relearn.”
Ashok nodded. “We’ll start slow, then. Skagi, exploit his blind side and-”
Cree slapped Ashok’s chain with the flat of his blade. “If you plan the attack in front of me, there’s no purpose to this,” he growled. “Either we do this as if we stood in the training yard at Athanon or not at all.”
Before Ashok could speak, he heard movement in the trees. They turned to see Kaibeth and three of the other sellswords step into the clearing.
“I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Kaibeth said. “We saw you leave camp and thought something was amiss. Now that we see you’re planning some sport”-she glanced at Cree-“I’ll fight you in earnest, Guardian, with pleasure.” She drew her weapon, a single katar, and held it loosely in front of her. “You know your friends’ movements, but with me you can pretend I’m really the enemy.” She smiled. Ashok didn’t like the expression.
Her companions carried daggers and scimitars. Ashok remembered they’d fought well on horseback against the brigands. He’d watched Kaibeth ride by an enemy’s horse and slice its rider’s hand off with her blade.
Cree held up his own weapons. “I’ll fight you,” he said.
Standing beside Ashok, Skagi made a restless movement, as if he meant to argue, but Cree shot him a look that kept him quiet. Ashok moved back to give the combatants room, and after a breath Skagi joined him. Grinning, the other sellswords came to stand with them to watch the match. One of the men moved with deceptive casualness to stand behind Ashok. Ashok pivoted and looped his chain behind the man’s head. He pulled the spikes taut and let them nip the back of the warrior’s neck.
“You’ll want to find another place to stand,” Ashok said, rattling the spikes. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt by these.”
The sellsword glared at Ashok. “If you think those little needles scare me-”
“Arveck!” Kaibeth snapped. “You’ll have your turn. Be patient.”
The sellsword didn’t take his gaze from Ashok. “I have been patient,” he said softly. “Tempus’s emissary-I’ve been waiting a long time to see if you’re as special as everyone claims. What do you think? Do you think you’re special?”
Ashok let one end of the chain fall. He flicked his wrist, and the spikes hissed past Arveck’s head just inches from his ear. Ashok caught the chain. The sellsword flinched in spite of himself. The look he gave Ashok when he realized his slip was one of hatred. It reminded Ashok very much of the expression he’d once seen in Vedoran’s eyes.
“I’m not special,” Ashok said, “and you know I have no allegiance to Tempus. If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. I don’t need a reason.”
He met Arveck’s stare. Unexpectedly, the sellsword smiled. “Good, emissary. In that case, I can wait a little longer. Go ahead, Kaibeth, play with the crippled one.”
Ashok glanced at Cree, but the warrior ignored the taunt. He and Kaibeth circled each other, their katars testing the air. Arveck and his two companions backed away from Ashok and turned their attentions to the fight.
Skagi leaned in and whispered to Ashok. “Are you going to kill him?”
Ashok shook his head. “Much as I hate to admit it, we need him-all the caravan guards. You know we haven’t seen the last of the brigands.”
“Can
Ashok smiled. “Not today.”
Cree and Kaibeth came together in a skittering clash of steel. The short reach of the katars brought the warriors into an intimate stance, their breaths mingling as they fought. The blades whirled so close to the skin that Ashok soon found his hands quivering from the tension. Then Cree nicked Kaibeth in the arm-the sellsword turned aside from the blow, but a thin stream of blood ran down her arm and stained the katar hilt.
“You get the first sting,” she said, taking a moment to catch her breath. “You’re faster than I thought.”
“You should have seen me a month ago,” Cree said. He darted in again, but she was ready for him this time. She flicked aside his blades and brought her knee up into Cree’s stomach. The warrior coughed and gagged but kept his blades ready to punch against a follow-up attack. He teleported back a few feet, and Kaibeth broke off the attack to wipe her hands on her breeches.
She hasn’t tried to exploit Cree’s missing eye yet, Ashok thought. If he were in Kaibeth’s place, he would try to take advantage of Cree’s slowed reaction time to wear him down. Maybe she was trying to lull the warrior into a false confidence before she advanced on him from that side. Ashok didn’t think Cree would fall into that trap, unless Arveck’s words had affected him more than he’d thought.
When his form solidified, Cree came in again, low this time, and Ashok saw the warrior was trying to make up for his loss of speed with finesse. He worked his blades steadily and conserved energy, a discipline he hadn’t shown
