Black Spice (Book 3) (10 page)

The
sun shone directly overhead by the time they got a good look at the island. 
Mostly treeless, it rose steeply, with grey-green meadows lying between sharp
rocky peaks.

“I
see a hillside dotted with color,” Uncle Ellec said, peering through the
spyglass.  “Is that a spice field?  No, wait.  They look like painted
haystacks, huts maybe.”  He turned to Ubtarune.  “Are those the houses of the
Gavdi?”

Ubtarune
nodded solemnly.  “Those are the Gavdi.”

It
wasn’t long before they approached the shore and Ubtarune pointed at the
entrance to a deep cove.  Uncle Ellec told Pallan to steer that way and have
the fore and mizzen sails furled.  At that moment, Lerica watched as one of the
so-called huts, one splashed in red, yellow, and blue, spread its wings and
leaped from a stony hillside, taking flight over the ocean.

“They’re
birds!” Lerica said, the shock making her backpedal a few steps.  “They’re big
damn monster birds.”

The
creature wheeled on the breeze, and Lerica felt her shadow-self move in its
recesses.  The great bird’s wingspan was wider than the length of the ship.

She
ran to Ubtarune saying, “Hey, what the hell?”

He
looked at her blankly.

Another
giant avian took flight, this one striped green and black.  It circled high
over the ocean, then dived, leveling out just above the waves, dipping its
massive head into the water and coming up with a flailing seal clamped tightly
in its beak.  The Gavdi bird flew straight to shore, throwing the seal down
onto the rocks, settling next to the carcass and examining it with an insane
eye.  Then it snapped up the seal and swallowed it whole.

“These
prehistoric birds,” Ellec said to Ubtarune, “they’re the Gavdi?  Why did you
never tell me this?”

“Everyone
knows of the Gavdi.  How do you not know?”

“You
knew I wanted to trade for spice.”

“Have
no fear.  You will be allowed the purple spice, but you must come ashore and
pick it with your own hand.”

Ellec
pulled at his moustache.  “Are you sure these things won’t attack us?”

“It
will be safe.  I will cleanse the way.”

He
went to stand at the bow of the ship.  He breathed on the headpiece of his
wand, and the spice mixture within burst into flame.  Thick, scented smoke
drifted across the deck.

They
entered the cove on a dying wind, the water nearly flat and reflecting a blurry
image of the rocky shore.  Ubtarune waved his wand slowly from side to side,
the smoke hanging in clouds as
Calico
drifted to a halt.  Dozens and
dozens of the great birds sat in repose on rocky perches, their heads tucked
under their wings.  The hillside lay crossed with streaks of bright blue — some
kind of flowering plant.

Ellec
and Lerica rowed Ubtarune to a gravelly beach in the ship’s jolly boat.  He
repeated sternly that the others must stay aboard
Calico
no matter what
happened ashore.  They followed Ubtarune up the hill, each carrying a clay jar. 
As they climbed, the Gavdi birds began to stir on the heights to either side,
and within Lerica, the shadow-cat began to stir as well.

She
locked eyes with her uncle.  She could see it happening in him too.

“Go
easy,” he said, perhaps to himself.  “We are fearless.”

The
spice lay before them in a meadow, sky-blue flowers with purple eyes, growing
at the end of waist-high stalks.  Ubtarune raised his arms and sang a long,
continuous verse that was as much a bird cry as a song.  Above them, one of the
great birds raised its head.  It was blue and green with splashes of deep
purple, and clearly the largest of the flock.

“You
may take the spice now,” Ubtarune said.  “But take only the correct amount.”

“And
how much is that?” Lerica said.

“You
will know.  Oh, and don’t pick the flowers.”

“So
the flowers are not part of the spice?” Ellec said.

He
and Lerica looked more closely.  A cluster of purple string-like fibers grew
from the center of each flower.  Ellec picked a string and crumbled it into his
hand.  He held it out to Lerica and she sniffed it cautiously.  It smelled like
all the colors of the rainbow.

“This
is it,” Ellec said, almost beaming.  “Let’s go about this calmly, but waste no
time.”

Lerica
could see at once that it would take hours to fill her jar.  But according to
her uncle, one jar of this would be worth a ton of cardamom.  She picked the
little fibers quickly and didn’t look up.  The feeling that the Gavdi birds
were waking got stronger, almost overwhelming, and still she focused only on
picking the spice from one flower and moving on to the next.

She
didn’t know how long it had been, but her jar was only a third full when
Ubtarune said, “I am ready now.”

“I
was wondering,” Uncle Ellec said to her as he continued to pick relentlessly. 
“Didn’t he say something about making an alliance with the Gavdi?  That’s what
made me think they were people.”

“Be
still!”

They
looked up.  Ubtarune glared at them.  All around them, the Gavdi birds were
awake.  Perched on feet like dragon claws, they hopped from side to side,
spreading their wings for balance, pressing closer together as more of them
moved down from the heights.  Lerica and Ellec stopped picking and capped their
jars.

“It
is my time,” Ubtarune said.  “Witness now my greatest act of power.”

He
climbed to the spine of a low ridge and followed it to the outcropping where
the great purple-splashed creature stood, the eldest of its flock perhaps.  He
walked closer and closer, right up to it, and opened his mouth and screamed
like an eagle.  He began a ritual dance, the movements like a bird in flight,
Lerica thought.  But when he began to sing, it was a human song.  He was speaking
to the Gavdi bird.

‘
He’s
casting some kind of spell over it
,’ Ellec signed.

Even
perched, the creature loomed over him like he was a toy figure.  It watched him
and didn’t move.  Ubtarune came to the end of his dance and his song.  The
Gavdi bird cocked its head at him, then let loose a cry.

It
was a scream that shattered the very air.  Lerica winced in pain as the cry
echoed in her head.  It had been louder than a canon blast.  But it seemed to
have no effect on Ubtarune.  He placed his wand against his chest and crossed
his arms over it.  He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and stood still.

In
the blink of an eye, the creature took him in its beak and swallowed him
whole.  It raised its head skyward in triumph.

Ellec
gasped.  “Oh my Goddess.”

Lerica
felt the shadow-cat spring from its lair.  She drew her sabre.  “We have to cut
him out!”

She
started forward but Ellec seized her wrist.  All the Gavdi birds were slowly
pressing forward, staring at them with their mad, mad eyes.  More of them were
flying in from other parts of the island.  Lerica didn’t know why she was
worried about that — any one of them could kill her and Uncle Ellec with ease. 
She was afraid that with so many, one of them would be pressured into
attacking.

“No,
Lerica.  It will kill you,” Ellec said.  “We cannot help him.  We have to get
out of here before they cut us off from the boat.”

They
backed quickly down the hillside, Lerica brandishing her sabre while Ellec got
his pistol out and cocked it, but the creatures only watched them as they
stumbled to the shore, getting into the jolly boat and pushing off.  By the
time they reached
Calico
some of the Gavdi birds had come down to perch at
the edge of the cove.  A few more circled high overhead.

“Load
the swivel guns,” Ellec called to Pallan as he climbed aboard.  “Break out the
muskets.”  He licked a finger and held it up to the lazy breeze.  “Raise all
sails — spritsail too.”

Lerica
leaned over the side.  Her guts churned.  She wanted to throw up, but the
shadow-cat wouldn’t let her.

“It
was like he knew what would happen, like he
wanted
it to eat him.”

“Why
would he want that?” Ellec said.  “No, his spell simply wasn’t strong enough. 
His alliance with the Gavdi has failed.”

They
sailed away from Gavdi Island as the sun sank toward the sea.  Uncle Ellec kept
the guns and muskets at the ready, but none of the monstrous birds came after
them.  As the ocean turned dark and the first stars peeped out, Lerica stood at
the taffrail, looking back.  For a moment, she thought she saw something high
in the sky and far behind.

Kyric
watched the sunrise through a veil of clouds.  The sea was grey and choppy, and
the wind blew strangely cool from the south, racing just ahead of a storm line. 
Everyone sat still, waiting for the squall to hit.

“Timarru
comes with the rain,” Dinala said to Jascenda.  Meithu grinned.  He was ready
to sing, but Jascenda had another plan.

She
gave a nod to Chasha, who had the sail shortened at once, then she twirled her
storm lure and screamed at the sky.  The wind rose quickly, shifting a little,
and suddenly the boat picked up speed, shooting through the waves, spray
flying, the mast and lines and outriggers all creaking sharply.  And still Jascenda
twirled.

“Everyone
tie yourself to the boat,” Chasha called, throwing her full weight onto the
steering oar.  Kyric lashed himself to the same thwart where he had tied
Caleem.  The mast complained loudly, and it took all three sail handlers to
trim the sheet.  The boat cut sharply through the ocean and pulled away from
the storm.

They
sailed at a breakneck pace for more than an hour before Jascenda collapsed and
lay sprawled in the bottom of the canoe gasping for breath.  But she had
conjured enough wind to carry them into the afternoon.  The squall fell behind
and sank beneath the horizon.  They never saw the monster whale.

“Can
we continue to evade it the whole way?” Kyric asked her.

Jascenda
answered softly so that no one else could hear.  “No.  But Dinala needed more
time.  She must find her center once again before she can sing.”

The
wind beat at the waves throughout the long afternoon.  It began to drop as the
sun set, and early twilight found them on a calm sea in the lightest of
breezes.  The evening turned sultry as warm air pushed down from the north. 
Some scattered clouds, high in the sky, cast a strange glow over the ocean.

Kyric
felt the weird touch him as a sudden tension in the air.  He went forward to
stand on a box and search the horizon.  Everyone sat still, listening.

“There,”
said Chasha, pointing to starboard.

In
the distance a pale shape rode low in the water, throwing up a bow wave with
its blunt prow.  It surged ahead of them, and trailed a long wake as it swam
furiously.

“It
is Timarru,” Jascenda said, not moving from where she sat.  Whatever was going
to happen, she was going to let it be.

Dinala
and Meithu went to stand amidships, wrapping their shoulders in the blue shawls
of the whale singers.  Timarru swung around to charge straight at them, sending
a fountain of water skyward through its blowhole.

It
had the head of a sperm whale, dirty white and crimped, but it became green and
scaly toward the tail, which was long and sleek and had the upright fin of a
great fish.  Dinala began to sing a high but distorted melody, like music heard
underwater, and Meithu joined in with the harmony.  Kyric was surprised at the
depth of the kid’s voice.  His part was the echo from the ocean floor.

Everyone
held their breath as the two of them sang, the whale serpent getting closer. 
They could see its open jaws.  It could easily bite the boat in half.  Kyric
fetched his longbow and quickly strung it, feeling in his quiver for an arrow
that was heavier than the others.  He didn’t know where he would shoot the
creature if it came to that — he couldn’t get a bead on its eyes, and hitting
it in the jaw probably wouldn’t hurt it.

The
singing hadn’t slowed the creature.  Dinala closed her eyes and let the full
timbre of her voice ring out.  Timarru opened his huge jaws wider and Kyric
could see down his throat.  A weird cue told him that the monster would be
vulnerable there.  He took aim.

Brui
and Leil held hands and lowered their heads — they knew they were going to
die.  Dinala sustained a long note, and Meithu sang its third an octave lower. 
Timarru was upon them.  Kyric could see the barnacles on its head.

The
singers fell silent.  The moment had come.

Kyric
lowered his bow.

“He
has heard us,” Dinala said.

The
creature’s jaws snapped closed and it dived.  The boat shuddered as it passed
underneath.  It didn’t come up again.

Meithu
jumped up and down, bursting with relieved laughter.  He turned a full circle
and shot everyone a silly grin.  Dinala sat down with her face in her hands and
cried quietly.

Later,
when Jascenda came forward to look at Caleem, she asked Kyric, “Why didn’t you
loose your arrow?”

“I
figured if you and the rest of the crew could trust Dinala, then I could as
well.  Besides, there wasn’t much chance that I could kill a creature like that
with one shot.”

Jascenda looked at him with a sharp
eye.  “That’s not what I heard in the whisper of the wind.”

The
town of Mantua was in the midst of a storm of noise.  Every Manutu fighter
hooted or whistled or made a loud trilling cry.  It was a frightening sound.

Aiyan
climbed the spiral ladder to the lower platform of the central tree, pushing
through the line of Manutu archers waiting there and continuing on to the upper
platform.  He stepped onto the walkway leading east and moved along quickly,
sidestepping men with blowguns, taking one branching walkway and then another,
following it all the way to where it ended, high on the trunk of some forest
giant.  This was the place.

A
skirmish had already begun along the southeast edge of the town.  As the
vanguard of Soth Garo’s army pushed through the tree line and into Mantua
proper, they found the ragged lines of Manutu hunters giving ground, throwing
spears as they retreated.  Arrows and darts rained sporadically from platforms
in the trees and the connecting walkways.

Aiyan
had wondered what purpose they served.  These catwalks ran like a maze through
the treetops from one end of the town to the other.  The Manutu called them
skywalks, and seemed to use them only as a place to take a stroll and catch
some cool air.  Perhaps defense was the true purpose; it certainly suited the
Manutu style of fighting.

Witaan
and Mahai had convinced the Manutu leaders to do as the Silasese had done and
abandon Mantua in favor of joining the others in Tiah.  Reports that Soth Garo’s
army had been spotted only a day’s march away made the argument easy.  But most
of the Manutu nation had gathered here, and getting them organized and moving
down the narrow forest road had been difficult.  Mahai had led a force of bowmen
to harass the advancing troops and was able to slow them a little.  Most of the
women and children had gotten away, but it was in a long, slow-moving column.  The
enemy had to be delayed to give them more time.

Aiyan
had spent the day wandering Mantua, looking for the place where he could ambush
Soth Garo.  He couldn’t find a spot that felt right.  He had assumed it would
be a place that would get him within sword’s reach.  It wasn’t until he tried
the roofs of the houses that he thought about going higher, and at the very end
of the skywalk he found it.

Mahai
waved at him from the upper platform of the central tree.  It turned out that
he was quite an archer once they gave him a bow.  He was, in fact, remarkable
in many ways.  Aiyan figured that Mahai had almost all the gifts required to be
a candidate for the flaming blade: skilled in combat and scouting, excellent
intuition, a sense of the weird, and a resilient spirit.  More resilient than
Kyric’s spirit, Aiyan thought, and yet perhaps not as strong.  But both of them
stood on a common ground with all who were drawn to Esaiya: they had been
broken in some way, and still they went on.

The
whistles and cries rose to a deafening height as a flood of Hariji spearmen
poured through the gaps between the houses, their shields held over their
heads.  It was more than intimidation, Aiyan realized.  It was a tactic.  No
one could hear a shouted command more than a few steps away.

Blow-darts
began to appear in the backs of the Hariji, and in their necks, dropping them
by the handful as their bodies went numb.  Blowgun men had hidden in the thatch
of the rooftops, waiting for them to go past.  But ultimately it was a bad
idea.  There were too many hunters and the ambushers found themselves
surrounded.  A few of them made it into nearby trees, only to be shot down by
Silasese archers.  The rest of them died by the spear.

A
battle line was forming at the foot of the central tree.  The Manutu would make
one sharp stand before going into full retreat.  Mahai came running along the
catwalk, a coil of rope over one shoulder.  Aiyan signaled him to crouch low.

“I
brought you this,” Mahai said, “in case you can’t get down any other way.”  He
dropped the rope at Aiyan’s feet.  “They’re about to push past the big tree. 
All of us on the skywalk are falling back to a ladder on the north side.”

Aiyan
went to his knees and peered over the edge of the walkway.  “Stay here with
me.  Stay low and keep out of sight.”

Best
not to tell him that they might get a shot at killing Soth Garo.  The very
thought could betray them.  Now Aiyan had to see to himself.  He stepped onto
the plane of power, seeking concealment for his spirit.

The
battle at the central tree ended as soon as it started, the Manutu retreating behind
a skirmish line.  Then Aiyan saw him — Soth Garo — standing in the open ground
next to a lone house that lay below, only a few of his death guards around
him.  They no longer wore their skull headpieces; they had Baskillian pot helms
and carried shiny flintlock muskets.

A
dozen captured Manutu squatted in an animal pen, a handful of Hariji on guard. 
Soth Garo had a pair of his Baskillians each bring a prisoner over to him.  He
went into the house, and the guards followed, shoving the two men ahead of
them.

Aiyan
could guess what would happen.  Soth Garo wanted to slip a spy into the ranks
of the Manutu hunters before they could get away.  He would kill the first man
to convince the second one to take his blood.

The
thatch on the rooftop lay torn by the ambushers who had sprung from there
earlier.  Aiyan could almost see through a hole in it.  Then it came to him. 
If he could know the place and the moment
exactly
. . .

“Mahai,
use the rope and climb down.  Stay behind this tree so they don’t see you.  As
soon as you hit the ground, run into that house swinging.”

Mahai
gave him a look.  “What are
you
going to do?”

“Don’t
worry.  I’ll be there ahead of you.”

Mahai
eyes widened as he guessed Aiyan’s plan, but he said nothing and started down
the rope.  Aiyan rose to his feet.  To take his enemy unawares, he would have
to do it
at this very moment
.

He
leapt off the walkway, drawing Ivestris across the flame even as he jumped.

The
thatch hardly slowed him as he slammed boot-first into something hard and solid
— it was Soth Garo himself.  They went down together in a pile, Aiyan
immediately rolling to his feet, a little surprised that he hadn’t broken a
leg.  Soth Garo kipped to his feet at once, none the worse for having Aiyan
land on him.  As he drew a two-handed sword over his shoulder, Aiyan cut him
across the chest with the flaming blade.

His
skin was made of ice.  The blow cracked the surface, sending a spray of icy splinters
across the room.  Aiyan cut again in an arc of blue fire, sidestepping to place
Soth Garo between himself and a guard who was cocking his musket.  Chunks of
ice fell from the wound, but no black blood, and Aiyan had to throw himself to
the side to avoid an overhand slash that would have chopped him in half.

One
of the death guards had dropped his musket and drawn his sabre, but the other
guard blocked his way.  There was a sickening thud, and he fell to the floor
with a broken head.  Mahai stood over him with his war club.

The
guard with the musket panicked, firing from the hip as he spun toward Mahai.  It
was a wild shot, but it cut a bloody crease across Mahai’s forehead, stunning
him and knocking him back through the doorway.  The musket man pursued him,
turning the weapon around so he could strike with the butt.

Soth
Garo wielded his huge sword in one hand, point flicking from side to side in
tiny semicircles like it was nothing more than a foil.  He feinted and thrust,
and thrust again.  Aiyan moved in as he parried, raking the flaming blade
against Soth Garo’s ribs as he tried to slide behind him.

Fast
as a snake, Soth Garo punched him in the chest with his free hand, knocking
half the wind out of him and driving him into the corner.  It quickly became a
fight of survival for Aiyan as he realized he couldn’t win, and might not even
get away.  While he parried and dodged Soth Garo, he ran his sword through the
thatch and set the roof on fire.  Soth Garo doubled his attacks, ignoring any
counter-strikes, and Aiyan found himself pressed against the wall.  The roof slats
began to hiss as they burst into flame, and bits of fiery thatch rained down.  Soth
Garo would cut him down if he disengaged even for a moment, so Aiyan decided to
stand his ground and see who melted first.

One
of the Manutu prisoners lay sprawled at the far side of the room, his neck
broken, but the other man was still alive.  He crawled to the unfired musket
that the first guard had dropped.  Surprisingly, he knew how to use it.  He
pulled the hammer back to full cock and shouldered the weapon.  Soth Garo must
have felt some sort of threat at the last moment, because he pulled away and glanced
back at him.  The man fired at once, the ball catching Soth Garo square on the
jaw.  He wavered for a second, and then the roof collapsed in a shower of
sparks and flaming embers.