Songreaver (5 page)

"Good book," Garrett panted, trying to regain
his composure, "Just need a real fairy to translate it for you." He
grinned.

Cenick laughed. "I'd like to arrange some
lessons then, when we make it back."

Garrett slipped down from Ghausse's back and
retrieved his Chadiri sword from the dirt. The metal felt cold to
the touch and a glistening layer of slime clung to the blade where
the thing had touched it. He started to speak again, but a sudden
movement at the end of the gulley drew his attention. The woman in
white had collapsed.

"Help us, please!" the boy in the tattered
white robes cried out.

Cenick rushed to their side and Garrett
followed. The boy looked up at them, the fear in his eyes only a
little diminished.

"Don't worry," Cenick said, lifting the
woman's face with his hand as he supported her body with his other
arm, "We're friends."

"Save the boy," the woman gasped, "My
brother... save him."

"We'll save you both," Cenick said, "Your
wounds are not grave. Who are you?"

"Peacebringers," she whispered, her eyes
fluttering, "We see... we seek... sanctuary."

The woman's eyes closed, and her body slumped
in Cenick's arms. The boy in white looked up at Garrett, his dirty
cheeks streaked with tears, and Garrett forced a hopeful smile in
response.

Chapter Five

"You are a disciple of... Mauravant," the
woman in white murmured, her eyes half-opening as Serepheni brushed
a soft, wet rag across her forehead.

"My name is Serepheni," she answered, "The
Goddess allows me some small measure of service in her cause. Does
that offend you?"

The Peacebringer lifted her head from the
palette that Cenick had made for her and gave a weak smile. "No...
it does not."

"I will admit that I know very little about
your order," Serepheni said. She lifted the blanket to survey the
wounds on the woman's arms and winced.

"My brother?" the woman asked.

"The boy is all right," Cenick said. He and
Garrett knelt, holding open the tent flap to let in the fading gray
light of day, "He is having supper now."

"He hasn't eaten in two days," the woman
whispered, her voice rasping and weak, "Thank you."

"I'll bring you something to eat as well,"
Cenick said.

"No," Serepheni said, "Not yet." She tugged
open a slash in the woman's sleeve, revealing the burned mark on
her skin beneath. Her eyes widened.

"What's wrong?" Garrett asked.

Serepheni looked at Garrett with a trembling
smile and then at Cenick. "I think the two of you had better
leave," she said, "I'll call for you when... just leave us alone
for a while."

Garrett glanced at Cenick. The tattooed
necromancer's face looked grim. He looked at the woman in white
then at Garrett. "Come on, Garrett," he said, "Let's tend to her
brother."

Garrett looked at the woman in white. The
auburn-haired woman looked up at Serepheni and chuckled softly.
Serepheni looked down at her with a tense smile that did nothing to
conceal the fear in her eyes.

Cenick pulled Garrett away, and the tent flap
fell.

"She'll be all right, won't she?" Garrett
asked, keeping his voice low.

Cenick did not answer. The two of them walked
together toward the large tent where Chunnley prepared the camp's
meals. The sky loomed above, the color of charcoal ash.

Garrett's stomach twisted inside him, and
with it a little flutter of fear. "One of those things touched
Ghausse's leg," he said, "You don't think he might be sick
too?"

"I'll look at him," Cenick said, "but my
wound was greater than his, and I have almost completely
recovered."

"Why is that woman so hurt then?"

"Those creatures weren't natural," Cenick
said, "When it touched me... it was like the first time I felt the
slaver's lash. Not just the pain, suddenly realizing that your body
could hurt more than you thought it ever could... also the
helplessness. When it touched me, I was seven years old again, and
nothing I had ever done in all the years since mattered at all. The
burn on my leg is already healing. What it did to my soul... that
still hurts. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have
endured what that woman did."

"Do you think Miss Serepheni's magic can help
her?" Garrett asked.

"Healing isn't always magic, Garrett," Cenick
said, "and some wounds even magic cannot heal. In any case, the
Life aspect of Mauravant is far weaker than her Death aspect."

"Huh?" Garrett said.

Cenick gave him a weary look. "When Malleatus
slew Mauravant, her aspect was changed, perhaps eternally. Where
once she represented life and rebirth, now she is the goddess of
unlife."

"But, if she's dead, how does she do anything
at all?" Garrett asked.

Cenick shrugged. "I don't know, Garrett," he
said, "I'm not even sure that Mauravant and Malleatus were ever
really gods to begin with. For all we know, they could just be
metaphors for two competing philosophies, or perhaps they were
mortal leaders who found a sort of godlike immortality in the
religions of their followers after their deaths... I don't know,
but Uncle seems to think they were real, and I respect his opinion
more than any other man's. Then, of course, I am rather biased by
the fact that he saved my life."

Garrett smiled. "So, what were those
creatures out there in the forest?" he asked.

"I don't know," Cenick said, "I really wish
Uncle was around to ask."

"I miss him," Garrett said.

"We all do," Cenick said, "I think Max could
use his help too."

"What do you mean?" Garrett asked.

Cenick exhaled slowly. "When Uncle isn't
around to channel him in the right direction... Max can be a little
dangerous."

Garrett laughed, but Cenick wasn't
smiling.

Cenick cast a long glance across the grassy
field to where Max was having another argument with Jitlowe. Though
indistinct, the tone of their words made their meaning clear. Max
was enforcing his will on his brother necromancers once again.

"You think he'll go back to normal once we
get back to Wythr?" Garrett asked.

"I hope so," Cenick said, "for all of our
sakes."

They had reached the mess tent, and the smell
of Chunnley's cooking drifted out through the open flap of the
tent's main door. The high-pitched hooting of ghoulish laughter
rang out as Garrett and Cenick stepped inside.

A trio of ghouls sat at a makeshift table.
Two of them pounded their fists and howled with laughter as the
third struggled to swallow the contents of a large stew pot into
which he had thrust his entire head. Loud gulping noises echoed
from inside the stew pot as the ghoul upended it, spilling gobbets
of soup down his scraggly haired chest.

The boy with the tattered white robe huddled
behind a table at the far corner of the tent, watching the ghouls
with wide eyes. His eyes lifted to the hulking form of Chunnley as
the great, brown-furred ghoul approached him with a plate full of
tiny pies.

"Made you somethin' special," Chunnley said,
plucking one of the little pies from the platter and offering it to
the boy in the palm of his clawed hand.

The boy shrank back, looking at the pie, then
at Chunnley. Finally, his hand reached out and snatched the pie
from the ghoul's grasp, and he clutched it to his chest, trembling
in fear of the monstrous dog creature in the stained white
apron.

"Hi," Garrett said as he and Cenick
approached the boy's table, "Chunnley's cooking is really good. You
should try it."

Chunnley turned and grinned at Garrett. "He's
already had two plates of leftovers, but I thought he should have
something fresh for dessert. Baked some apple tarts for him."

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" Cenick
asked.

The boy looked up at the necromancer. His
lips moved, but no sound came out. Garrett had known Cenick for so
long that he had forgotten how intimidating he could be. The black
runic tattoos that covered the big man's face gave him a devilish
appearance.

"Our friend is taking care of your sister,"
Garrett said, "She wanted us to look after you until she got
better."

The boy's eyes went to Garrett, and a little
of the fear in them dissipated. Garrett was glad that he was
wearing the hood. His own scars might have been every bit as
unsettling as Cenick's tattoos.

A furious boiling noise sounded from beyond
the rear flap of the tent. Chunnley muttered something about
the
caramel
and quickly set the plate of tarts down on the table in
front of the boy. He loped away and disappeared through the back of
the tent.

"Those pies look good," Garrett said, "Can I
have one?"

The boy looked down at the platter. After a
moment, he reached out with his free hand and pushed the plate
roughly toward Garrett before snatching his hand back to his
chest.

The battered wooden plank, stretched between
two crates creaked as Garrett sat down on the crude bench. He took
a pie and bit into it. Hot chunks of apple in a rich, buttery
cinnamon sauce bubbled out through the crumbling brown crust.
Garrett wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and said, "You
have got to try this!"

The boy lifted his own tart to his mouth and
took a little bite. He chewed it for a moment, then took a bigger
bite. Halfway through the pie, the boy smiled, bits of pie stuck to
his dirty face.

Cenick sat down at the end of the bench,
positioning his rump directly over one of the crates to ease the
strain of the ghoulish furniture. The boy eyed him warily and
finished his pie in silence.

"My name is Garrett, and this is Cenick,"
Garrett said, "I know we look a little scary, but we really are
good guys."

The boy's eyes darted toward the three ghouls
who were now singing the second verse of
Marrow in the
Barrow
and scratching their long claws across the tabletop in
time with the song.

"Oh," Garrett said, "Yeah... those are
ghouls. They can be kinda scary too, but they only eat dead people.
Otherwise, they're pretty friendly."

The boy's face paled, and he looked down in
horror at the plate of pies.

"No!" Garrett said, "Those are just apple
pies! Chunnley doesn't put any meat in the stuff he makes for
us."

The boy looked slightly sick but nodded his
understanding. He flinched when the bench creaked as Cenick shifted
his weight. Cenick froze and smiled back at him.

"Wh... who are you?" the boy asked, his voice
barely a whisper.

"We're necromancers, from Wythr," Garrett
said, "We're on our way back home from fighting the Chadiri."

The boy looked confused.

"Necromancers are people who use magic to
animate the dead," Cenick explained.

The boy looked just as confused.

"So, if there's a dead guy," Garrett said,
"and you want to make him get up again and walk around... I mean
not like make him alive again. We can't do that, but we can make
him walk around like he was alive and have him do stuff."

The boy stared at Garrett as if he were
juggling snakes.

Garrett stopped trying to explain and smiled
again. "We're really nice people," he said.

At that moment, Max Zara strode into the tent
in his black deathlord armor with his polished silver skull visor
concealing his face.

The boy tumbled off his bench in fear.

"Max!" Cenick growled.

"What?" Max said, lifting his visor.

Garrett ran around the table to help the boy
to his feet.

"Who's this?" Max asked with a wave of his
black steel gauntlet.

"A refugee," Cenick said, rising to interpose
himself between Max and the boy.

"Oh," Max said, "Have you seen
Serepheni?"

"She is tending to the boy's sister," Cenick
answered, "They were attacked in the forest by demons."

"Demons?" Max laughed.

"I've never seen their like before," Cenick
said, "but it seems they are vulnerable to wild magic."

"Wild magic?" Max asked, "Since when do
you
use wild magic?"

"I don't," Cenick said, "Garrett did. He
saved us all."

A bewildered smile brightened Max's haggard
face. He looked at Garrett with pride. "Well done, Garrett! Well
done!"

"Thanks!" Garrett said.

"I shall have to make it part of the
curriculum at my war academy," Max said, "Would you consider a
teaching position, Garrett?"

Garrett laughed and Cenick sighed, shaking
his head.

"They're called
Volgrem
," the boy in
tattered robes whispered.

The necromancers turned to look at him.

"What was that?" Cenick asked.

"
Volgrem
," the boy said again, his
voice a bit louder now, "Jedda says they come from the dark between
the lights."

"Is
Jedda
your sister's name?" Cenick
asked.

The boy nodded.

"What's
your
name?" Garrett asked.

The boy's large brown eyes looked from one of
them to another. At last he answered, "Banden."

"Nice to meet you, Banden," Garrett said.

"Always good to meet a new recruit!" Max
said.

Cenick gave Max a hard look.

Max shrugged and raised his palms. "Only if
he doesn't have any other plans..."

Serepheni cleared her throat, silencing
whatever Cenick was about to say. They looked to see her standing
at the front of the tent. Even the chattering ghouls fell silent at
the look on her face.

An icy fear twisted in Garrett's stomach as
he watched the priestess cross the floor toward the boy. She had
been crying, and was trying not to now. Cenick and Max gave way,
and Garrett got to his feet and shuffled back from the table.

Banden looked up at Serepheni, his eyes
hollow and his lips strained and trembling.