Symphony Of War

Early morning mists curled over the mountain. It was almost the end of Tain’s watch, and once again he’d drawn the short straw. No, that wasn’t strictly true. He’d actually been allotted the cushy indoor job of grooming the horses, but he’d lost it in a game of Bag The Boggit, damn the luck. So he was freezing his nethers off on a night watch in the middle of winter. He’d be good for nothing tomorrow, and Lysan would have another reason to consider him a pathetic waste of supplies and pass him over for promotion.

He leaned against the battlements, yawning. Nothing ever happened on these shifts. There had been talk of bandits a few months ago, but all they’d seen were a group of bedraggled-looking people, most likely a lost convoy of traders, making their way out of the mountains a few weeks ago. Nothing to worry about.

Lysan had been reluctant to even mention them, though the men had all kinds of wild theories about why they had appeared. Lysan had insisted on sending out extra patrols for a few days afterwards. Tain thought boredom gave rise to the stories, nothing more. He’d joined up hoping for some excitement, but he was wasting away learning how to stand stock still and how to polish armour. Atrophy was the real danger here.

In the distance he thought he saw a puff of smoke coming out of the mist. No, surely it was his imagination. His shift would soon be over. He squinted, wishing he hadn’t left the eyeglass in the storeroom. Yes, it was definitely smoke, and the plume was too large to be coming from a campfire, emerging from the direction of the old traders’ hut. There was quite a lot. Maybe they were burning damp vegetation.

Then he saw the figures moving steadily in single file along the mountain track. They seemed out of scale and unusually fat. The mist was still too thick to make them out, and so he waited. He didn’t really want to alert the garrison about two or three merchants coming down the road, when Lysan didn’t even know Tain was taking this watch. No need to let the chief know about Tain’s failure to keep hold of his assigned tasks.

As the mist cleared a little he saw it wasn’t two or three merchants, or even four or five. The line extended up the track as far as he could see, right to the pass in the mountains. These weren’t people. They could only be Vurecans. Tain turned on his heel and ran to wake the garrison.

***

Tain crouched behind a pile of rubble that had once been an armoury. The metal of fine shields and hefty swords was melted and fused together and ran into a pool underneath this tangle of scrap. If he hadn’t seen it happen he wouldn’t have believed it possible.

Chief Lysan and another soldier ducked low behind the bricks to his left. All around them the garrison was in ruins. The tower that Tain had kept watch on that morning was levelled to the ground. The horses slaughtered. Smoke rose from fires all around the town, its smell cloying. No-one was around to quench the flames. Every now and then he heard a scream, or the sound of frantic pleas which were abruptly cut short. The cries were getting fewer and further apart as the day wore on. Bodies lay everywhere.

Lysan handed Tain his water flask. Drink.

Tain took a swig and made to hand it back, but Lysan shook his head.

The chief was injured, the result of falling masonry rather than a direct attack. His right arm was broken in at least two places. Every time he moved he grimaced.

You’ll need that, lad, Lysan whispered.

What about— Tain said.

Never mind me. My mind’s made up. Go to Luporn, get word to the garrison.

Tain’s eyes widened. The chief was suggesting he leave in the middle of a battle. How could he, when he was needed here?

But—

Lysan shook his head. You’re the fastest. Don’t look at me like that, there’s nothing you can do here. Except die.

There are no horses, Tain said.

The stables had burned at the same time as the barracks. Men had escaped, but few beasts had. He could still hear their screams. The stench of smoke and evil magic was thick and acrid in the air.

There should be a couple at the outpost, if you’re lucky.

Tain clenched his fists. I want to stay with you. I want to fight.

He wasn’t a coward. Give him a sword and he’d prove to everyone he was more than just the garrison’s runt.

It’s an order, Tain. Lysan’s voice was gruff. There was something else in it, a rasping his normally powerful voice didn’t usually have. Lysan closed his eyes and screwed up his face.

But what about you? What about Norn?

Lysan looked across at the other soldier. The man drew his lips in a tight line, his face white. The soldier met Lysan’s eyes, and then looked away from them both.

Norn’s lost, Lysan said. It’s my job to make sure Northern Tazelinn isn’t lost with it. Now go!

Tain gave Lysan and the other man one last salute, then left. They moved in the opposite direction to him around the rubble. He realised they were preparing to make a diversion. They would fight on so that he might escape and bring help. But what help could he bring? By the time he gave the news, all in Norn would be dead.

Chapter 2

Gauce lowered himself through the upstairs window, careful to avoid banging his sword against the frame. His soft boots made no sound on the floorboards. It was good to keep in practice.

The room was unpainted. A bolt of curtaining fabric lay waiting to be hung, and thick woollen rugs dyed in bright colours adorned the floor. A smell of rose water and sweet elfberry juice filled the air.

The man lying on the bed was wearing enough bluefire to pay for another house in a better district. He had flung his bedding aside to reveal a long naked torso with more muscles than a man who had spent the last two tendays on his back had any claim to. His breathing was even and slow, and his eyes remained closed.

Duando, Gauce said.

The Golden Boy didn’t wake. All of the blessings that fell in his lap, and he didn’t have the decency to get up and appreciate them. Gauce pulled up a barbarian stool and sat down close to the bed. Perhaps sleeping through the coming storm was another one of Turoi’s gifts.

I guess you earned it, Gauce said. But don’t you think you’re taking things too far? It’s been days and days.

Gauce sighed and ran a hand through his loose curls. Duando remained motionless, and as vulnerable as a newborn. If this was what it meant to be blessed by a god he was happy to have no part of it. An involuntary shiver ran up his back.

I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. I have you to thank for saving Moreus. I know we’ve had our differences. I’d prefer to thank you in person, as it were. When I know you’ll be listening.

Duando remained unmoved. He breathed in and out with maddening calm. His lightly-stubbled jaw hung slack, betraying no intelligence. Perhaps Duando would never speak again. Gauce could not bear to look at him any longer, so he turned his head and stared out of the open window.

Thank you, Gauce said.

It didn’t seem enough.

Gauce cleared his throat. I was wrong about you, you know. I thought you were a tourist. I thought a member of the healing class wouldn’t fight hard enough for Kaddians. I thought you weren’t really one of us. But you never saw things that way. To you, we’re all one people, rich or poor, healer or soldier or peasant. White skinned or… not. You’re a better man than I am, Duando Mesolh. Only, don’t tell Nori I said so.

Uh, what was that?

Gauce jerked his head round at the groggy voice, then jumped to his feet. The stool clattered as it tipped over. Duando’s eyes were open, and he had lifted his head several inches from the pillow. Duando looked at Gauce with ice-blue eyes and a puzzled expression.

Gauce had the urge to embrace him. He stepped closer to the bedside, then stopped. Duando was flaunting more skin than a brothel. An unfamiliar heat rose to Gauce’s cheeks. He focused on Duando’s forehead.

Thank Turoi you’re awake, Gauce said. We thought you were gone for good.

Duando sat up on his elbows and looked around. How long have I been asleep?

Over two tendays.

Duando furrowed his brow. He sat up and turned his head, his gaze resting on new velvet drapes around the window, and then on several bunches of flowers that nobody had yet had the chance to put in a vase. Duando breathed in deeply through his nose.

You’ve got to be mocking me… You’re not mocking me. No wonder my head feels like porridge. What were you saying, er, don’t tell Nori something?

Gauce rubbed the back of his neck. Oh, nothing, nothing. What had seemed reasonable to say to a near-corpse no longer felt right to voice in front of a half-alert man. I was just saying, well, what I mean is… I came to thank you for saving my brother’s life.

Duando frowned and looked upwards. After a pause he spoke. Moreus? I saw him die.

Gauce shook his head. He lives.

I thought I dreamed that part.

Gauce smiled. The whole incident was taking on the quality of a sassakee dream. The magic of gods was incredible, distant, unknowable. He didn’t trust the bastards.

Feet thundered up the stairs. The bedroom door burst open.

How did you— Aivee had a fierce look on her face as she took in Gauce, which transformed to a gasp of joy when she noticed Duando. She launched herself across the room.

Duando, thank Turoi! I thought you’d never wake!

Aivee’s curls bobbed as she ran. She grabbed Duando in a tight embrace, which the healer accepted with a bemused expression. He patted Aivee’s shoulder, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with this woman. The man was clueless. They stayed locked for a moment whilst Gauce rose and stepped towards the door.

Duando gently prised Aivee off him. Aivee, be careful, I feel somewhat delicate.

Gauce’s lip curled up at the man’s turn of phrase.

Oh, sorry, Aivee said, blushing.

Aivee began babbling about everything that had happened since Duando’s incapacitation, practically crawling all over him to do it. Gauce left them to it. The healer would do just fine without him, and at some point he might even realise how lucky he was.

***

Aivee climbed the ladder to the quiet of the attic, a thick bundle of silks in one hand. A gift for Duando from a noble whose name she didn’t remember. The fine silk felt divine under her fingers, the brightly coloured fabric printed with birds and flowers in the Wellag style. They had nowhere to store it but this musty attic.

Aivee crouched to get under low rafters. An oil lamp she’d hung from one of them cast everything in a reddish haze. The oil had to be impure, because it was letting out curls of grey soot.

She moved slowly and gingerly over the beams, testing for rotten patches before shifting her weight. At last she reached the corner and stowed the bundle. The fabric flowed like water under her fingers as she ran a hand over it. A wife of Duando’s could wear such luxury every day. Aivee bit her lip and scrunched up her eyes. She was allowed to dream. Kneeling, she leaned over and rubbed her face into the silk. How good it would feel, with this against her skin and Duando’s firm embrace around her. This time as if he meant it, rather than earlier when he only seemed confused. Now he was awake anything was possible.

The light dimmed and flickered. She turned, expecting the lamp’s wick to have fallen. Instead a cloud of wisps surrounded the flame, strange bluish gas coalescing into distinct shapes. Aivee gasped. Magic was at work, but whose? The rhythm thundered through her, and she took a deep breath to suppress it. It would do no good to fall through the floorboards. It was hard to keep it down when her heart was knocking against her chest.

The cloud changed, joined, and twisted into the shape of a dragon about the size of a dog. It hovered in the air and turned to eye her. Turoi. Or an apparition in the exact image of the god.

Aivee Rapple. Turoi’s voice was the same deep one she’d heard in the ranch in Vureiss. You owe me.

Through him, the oil lamp’s flame flickered.

I… I owe… Her mouth was too dry to finish.

Did I not save your mission, revive your young friend, and keep your secret?

Aivee gulped and nodded slowly.

Turoi flicked his tail and undulated his body. You know I did, herry. And this is what you’re going to do to repay me.

Chapter 3

Aivee went inside, her head full of jumbled thoughts, her heart buzzing like she’d drunk too much wine. She grinned at Lendia who smiled back as though she knew the source of Aivee’s elation.

The Cross Keys was full and busier than ever now they’d reopened, thanks to the Keys’ popularity. Ibrienne and Moreus had recovered from their ordeal as Vurecan captives enough to help out, and they were certainly needed. The ale room was a crush.

Aivee slipped upstairs to think about what had just happened. In the new inn, provided by Lord Canteli, she had a room of her own, something she hadn’t enjoyed since her time in Inshee. That thought brought a pang of regret. She should write to her mother and let her know her daughter was still alive and safe and doing well. More than well: she had the attention of a god. It was a dizzying thought, so much the stuff of legends that it could hardly apply to her.

She sat down at the small writing desk in her room. She had no ink or sabal leaves. She could probably afford to get real paper, and that would tell everybody she’d arrived. The people she’d left behind would scarcely recognise who she’d become.

The thought of Jorale soured the whole idea. She couldn’t let him know where she was, or that she lived. In Kaddon she had friends and protection. Two of Canteli’s liveried guards stood outside the Cross Keys at all times, watching over them all. And best of all, Duando had awoken.

A warm glow pushed away all thoughts of Jorale. She was so relieved when Duando finally woke that she’d been quite demonstrative about it. The memory made her blush. At the time she hadn’t paused to think about how he felt about her, but he hadn’t really shown her a special kind of affection. He’d healed her, and the memory of it was a warm one, but it was no more than he did for everyone. If their roles were reversed would he be waiting at her bedside like the sun had gone out of the sky? Of course not.

Yet something special had happened which put her on a more equal footing with him. Something few in Kaddon shared, not even the priests as far as she knew. Turoi had spoken with her, given her a mission. Given them a mission. Together. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, feeling a sly smile play over her face as she imagined breaking the news to him.

A knock on the door broke her reverie. Only one person was polite enough to bother knocking. She jumped up and patted down her hair.

Aivee? Can I speak with you? Duando asked.

Er, sure, just a moment.

Her rhythm moved to a canter, and her heart quickened. She wiped her face, rubbed her teeth, and smoothed her dress. If only she had a mirror handy. It was too late for that anyway. He was waiting, and probably getting annoyed with her.

You can come in now, Aivee said.

Duando strode in looking like a prince. She’d become used to seeing him unconscious and semi-naked, but he was dressed in the most clothes she’d seen him in for a long time, thick and layered against the winter cold. He wore a deep green embroidered jacket with gold stars running down it, paired with thin calfskin gloves and a black silk scarf with gold detailing. His knee-high boots shone, his trousers fit neatly and were patterned in as much detail as the jacket, and above it all he wore a half-belted stole that fell to the floor in a single long tail, also embroidered.

Aivee’s face fell. Just when she was closing the gap between them, he found a way to widen it even more.

He noticed her staring. Oh, the clothes? Gauce bought me them. They’re not really my style.

Now he mentioned it, they did bear Gauce’s stamp, although it seemed uncharacteristically generous of the man. But then, Duando had saved Gauce’s brother at great cost to himself. Even rogues could have a change of heart.

It’s not really you, Aivee said.

I’m not meant to use my crystals for a while. It leaves me feeling the cold.

So, what did you want to talk about? Aivee asked.

Duando looked to the side and cleared his throat. I, er… This is kind of embarrassing. Could you tell me what happened? When I wasn’t here.

Aivee cocked her head. Since yesterday?

Did he have such a strong connection to Turoi that he sensed the god had spoken with her?

His voice was gentle. No, Aivee. Since we were in Vureiss, and Turoi appeared.

I already told you everything. Weren’t you listening?

Or, worse, didn’t he believe her? Didn’t he trust her to tell the truth?

I probably was. That’s why it’s embarrassing. I have gaps in my head. People keep asking me about things I have no recollection of, and looking at me as though I should know what they’re talking about. I was hoping you would help me. If it’s not too much trouble.

Aivee smiled. It wasn’t too much bother, not at all, and if she spun it out long enough she could keep him to herself for a while. But now wasn’t the time to go crowing about Turoi, or trying to get him to pack for an expedition. He’d been sick, and his head was still woozy.

She motioned for him to take the chair she’d vacated, and sat on her bed. The candles burned lower and the room was warm as she retold the story of the battle at the ranch, of the horrors they discovered, the starving adults and fattened children. She talked about how Nori found her sister Ibrienne, and her throat caught as she spoke of Gauce finding his brother Moreus only to lose him moments later and then regain him by the grace of Turoi. The tale of how they rescued the survivors and led them across the mountains was hard for Aivee to recount, because she didn’t like to remember the sadness of losing people and of Duando’s deathly sleep. By the time she got to Captain Pieth, Duando’s eyelids were drooping. Aivee wanted to ask him a question, but the moment never quite seemed right. It was too soon after his awakening, and it would be abrupt and presumptuous to ask something that far beyond the flow of their conversation. Maybe she’d finish this tale when they’d had longer to get to know each other. Run away with me to the Ruby Isles was going to have to wait.

***

That night Aivee dreamed of fire. She was in a landscape she thought she recognised, wandering through the streets of a town, where mountains rose up in the distance. Only it wasn’t Norn, it was somewhere more run down. Smoke billowed from all sides. She was able to walk through it and breathe it in, yet it didn’t choke her or even affect her very much.

She came to the body of a man lying prone in the middle of the street, a soldier. He had been young, and his short blond beard covered a firm jaw and handsome features. She knelt for a closer look. The cause of death was obvious. Half of his body was scorched, the clothing burnt and the exposed flesh blackened or cooked red at the edges. On the left side of his head a chunk of his skull was missing, and his brain spilled out and fused into a pulpy mess. Death must have been instant: a small mercy.

A shadow loomed over her, and she looked up to find several large figures. Ereiss. Tassoi stood next to her. But Ereiss was dead. It didn’t matter, this was only a nightmare, and anything could happen. Ereiss opened her mouth wide, baring ivory fangs in a mouth that went on and on like a cave. The Vurecans started to say something in a language she couldn’t understand. They were casting some kind of spell.

Their vast toad-like maws quivered with the obscene song. Aivee looked around for an exit, but they surrounded her with their broad, overlarge bodies and moved in. She cringed, and waited for a blast of heat. But instead of a missile she felt a powerful tugging, splitting her being into pieces. One of the Vurecans produced a box and opened it up, and she felt a moment of awful panic, far worse than her fear of death. She was going to be trapped by the creatures forever.

Aivee sat up and cast her bedcovers off.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was breathing heavily and shaking. Her rhythm was all over the place. She didn’t have time for this. She swung her feet over in one smooth movement, pondering going down to the kitchen for a warm drink. Then she caught sight of shadows in her room that didn’t belong there.

There was a presence, but she couldn’t make out a figure. A dark cloud of something filled the space in front of her. It reminded her of smoke. Was the inn on fire? But there was no smell. Nevertheless the presence terrified her.

Who’s there? she whispered.

The cloud eddied and swirled, and formed into shapes. She looked around for hidden hands, perhaps some magic user lurking in the shadows. Moonlight and the ambient glow of the city shone through her window, and she could not see anyone. Then the shape formed into a dragon, a small version of Turoi about the size of a chicken.

Why are you still here? the apparition said, its deep voice at odds with its size.

Aivee was too stunned to respond.

I gave you a task. You haven’t even begun it. If you fail, I won’t protect you. They’re coming for you.

She found her voice. Who’s coming?

But Turoi was already fading, his presence wafting away like so much candle smoke. She’d kept the god waiting. He’d given her just one task, one important task, and she couldn’t even get that right. Her tongue felt dry, and her insides rebelled. Her dream had not been a dream, but a warning vision sent by the god. The Vurecans were coming for her.

Aivee lit a candle with shaking hands, then ran across the hall to wake Duando.

***

He stared at her bleary-eyed in the shuttered bar room, the light of two candles between them. The steam from his cup of hot tea curled up past his face. She didn’t trust vapours of any kind any more. The drink smelled medicinal, but she didn’t know what was in it.

Let me get this straight, Duando said. Turoi told you to wake me up in the middle of the night, so you and I can get on a boat and go to meet the krin leaders? That’s the krin who, by the way, hate Tazelinnics. They’re more likely to kill us than help us. Those krin. Just so we can beg them to ally with us in a war that hasn’t happened yet, against Vureiss.

When he put it like that, it did seem absurd.

She shrugged and met his eye. That’s about the shape of it.

We are at peace with Vureiss.

His mouth was curled up in a slight smile. It would be no good if he thought this was a joke. She’d been given a task by a god, and she wasn’t about to let his mocking get in the way.

We won’t be for long. You know they won’t take kindly to what we did, they’ll meet it with force.

Duando curved one eyebrow. Oh, and what makes you so sure of that?

He was so painfully handsome, as perfect as a temple carving. Aivee could not lose him, even if he’d never be hers. She couldn’t let him get away. She had to say something. Her mouth felt dry and her rhythm thundered, forcing her to grip the edges of the heavy table, though it would do her no good if she fell.

Turoi showed me, in a vision.

Duando put both his hands flat on the table between them and gave Aivee his unwavering attention. Turoi.

That one word was venomous with doubt and disdain. Its tone said, Don’t you dare mock me, little girl. Aivee forced herself to meet his stare.

Yes, she said.

Ever since I’ve awoken Turoi is all I’ve heard about, Turoi and the great miracle. Let me tell you something — I don’t remember him. I remember something, I remember fighting for our lives and a cloud of something strange appearing, and I wanted to believe it was the god. But was it really? I could have taken a blow to the head. Anything could have caused that apparition. The Vurecans we met had very sophisticated magic. It could have been a Vurecan illusion, think about that.

Aivee’s voice came out a squeak. So you don’t believe me?

He shook his head, but his eyes softened. It’s not that I think you’re trying to deceive me. Maybe you think you’ve seen Turoi in a dream, and it’s vitally important you act on it. But you’ve been through terrible experiences. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you start to imagine things and hear voices in your head. It’s quite common. I’m not about to set off with you to one of the most dangerous regions on the strength of one of your nightmares.

I’m not godstruck! Aivee said.

Aivee was certain of what she’d seen. Her feelings warred between fury at his disbelief and terror of what would happen if she couldn’t change his mind. You don’t defy a god.

You have to believe me. The Vurecans are coming for us. We need Turoi’s protection, and we need the krin. How else are we going to stop them?

Duando shook his head gently. His mouth was set firm but his eyes were full of pity. She pressed her teeth together and gripped the table until her knuckles went white. A display of tears would do her no good; he would only think she was suffering from battle shock.

Duando reached for his drink. The answer’s no. No, and that’s an end to it. If you like I can get a healer to see you about your anxiety.

Chapter 4

You make it sound so sordid, Gauce said.

He sat in her room with his black riding boots up on the table. Her table, although the concept of ownership didn’t mean so much to Nori any more.

It’s not sordid, it’s disloyal.

Gauce curled his top lip as though the very word disgusted him. So we’re back to that again, huh? You still haven’t forgiven me, even after all we’ve done.

His dark eyes were hard. If her rejection of him hurt any, he wasn’t letting it show on his face. Gauce was an unusual-looking man, with his caramel skin and cascade of wet black curls, his nose a little too wide, his lips a little too full. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but there was something about him that drew the eye, something other than the rows of silver buttons on his silk coat and the plainly pilfered rack of gold rings on his begloved knuckles.

She sighed, and rubbed her forehead. It’s not that. You don’t get it, do you? What about Lendia and Rike? Fendo, Ilser, Aivee, everyone we worked with. If any of us leaves it puts all the others in danger.

Gauce gestured around the well-appointed room. Canteli has this place guarded. And Ilser and the Melody’s crew have already left the city more than once. They’ll be safe without us. I doubt the Neffar even know who all the Keys are, in any case.

Nori shook her head. What about Duando? Everyone knows who he is.

Because he fought off a powerful Vurecan mage single-handed. We watched him summon a god. If there’s anyone I’m worried about, it’s not Duando.

He leaned forward and took her hands. She felt a thrill of pleasure at the contact, but pushed the feeling aside. The Other stirred.

Gauce’s eyes shone and he smiled at her. Come with me.

The Neffar forbid it.

Gauce laughed, but it was an angry, humourless laugh. They can say what they like. If Leussan thinks she can tell me where I can go she’s mistaken. I won’t be trapped in Kaddon by her and her bully boys.

Nori felt her rage rising up to meet his. Her nails bit into his hands. He grimaced, but didn’t draw them back.

You feel it too, he said. You don’t want to be caged either. If the Neffar want us to be here, then that’s exactly where we shouldn’t be.

His logic was persuasive, but it still felt wrong. She didn’t want to uproot Ibrienne, nor leave her friends in Kaddon. He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. His curls brushed her cheek, tickling her softly.

It’s a beautiful house in the middle of a forest, he said. "No-one will know where we are. They