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Chapter 28: The Sorcerer

The immortal spread beneath the waves like a spilled blot of ink, Rheuhl stretching out and out and out... In between the isles of the Strait the inky darkness flowed, through the channel of Himmel, into the sea off the coasts of Brand. And always its two eyes looked up, shining from the great below.

Above, a towering mass of flesh was bearing forward through the sea. The bones of the dead split the waves like a prow, and the spray flew up to frame the grim black face of the sorcerer. He raced onwards, borne on the backs of the dead.

"You've remembered," said the immortal. "Haven't you?"

Vacka was caught off guard by the disembodied voice, as he often was. He looked around, seeing nothing but the waves.

"I don't know what you mean," he hissed.

"You didn't run into her for nothing," Rheuhl said. "Remember?"

His mind filled with memory, a vision of somebeast from before... The girl, tall and red, sword strapped to her waist. The green robes of Gryning's guards, the silver plate armor on her shoulders. Yes -- yes, he remembered, but why?

"The girl from Gryning," he said.

"Now you remember," Rheuhl responded. The waves bubbled when the words rose.

"Yes, I remember her. But why should I? You've given me no reason to care about her."

"I told you, you didn't run into her for nothing. I meant for you to see her."

"You have not told me why, nor given me any reason to guess."

"She's a reward. A gift, to you, for helping me. You are seeking the killer, aren't you?"

That's right. But how do you know who I'm looking for? And she's not the one who killed my mom. She couldn't be... She was far too young looking for that.

"Poor mortal," Rheuhl spoke. "Your memories are such fragile things."

"Ashes, I'm sure you remember everything you've ever seen. Is that it? Millenia and you've forgotten nothing?"

"Quiet, mortal. I won't tolerate insolence."

"Then teach me, so I won't be insolent."

"I will show you, if that is your wish. If you really need reminding! But do not question me again."

A spout of dark water began to rise, swirling, to his right. It rose higher and higher, even as he sped past it on his corpse throne. Then it was behind him, but the waters were churning, being sucked backwards into its spiral. He saw it rise higher than even the tallest mountains in the Rim of the World. Rheuhl's bright glowing eyes appeared in its swirls, and he heard a sound like the air splitting open. All at once the bodies beneath him went stiff, and collapsed into the sea. He felt his power momentarily seep from his body; and once more he was no god, but a small wolf, scared and cold in the sea. Vacka was lost in the mass of bodies, limbs everywhere, catching him and dragging him down. The water began churning. The weight of waves crushed him the jab of limbs hurt him, and he could hear nothing but the rush of the water's roar. It grew louder, and louder, and louder --

Rheuhl's eyes flashed underwater, then shut.

Vacka had been whisked away into his own memory. He opened his eyes. The world before him was soft, fuzzy, a grainy grey color. The pale light was suffused with a blue glow. Rheuhl, tall, faceless, was standing in front of him.

"How quickly you have forgotten. Watch, and remember! Then know what I've offered you."

Rheuhl drew back the shadows, recreating an image that had been buried in the back of Vacka's mind. No, not this! Vacka thought. Anything but this one! He hadn't wanted to relive this scene, yet he'd already relived it in his head hundreds of times. After a while he'd had to bury the memory, had to forget it completely. It was too painful to remember. The faces took form in front of him, appearing out of the mist. They were remarkably lifelike, like true, living beasts. He saw faces that he knew. Molokhn. The old tyrant. Behind him he saw a wolf he didn't recognize, but who looked like a smaller duplicate of the king. The prince? Vacka knew little about the current life of the royals in Gryning; his attentions had been focused elsewhere the past several years. But as he watched he became increasingly sure the face behind Molokhn was Besegrare, the prince. I never realized you were there. How much of this did you see? How many atrocities did you stand back and just let happen? He felt rage well up within him anew. Besegrare -- this isn't finished. Then two new faces appeared, a few feet to the side. They were the faces he'd dreaded seeing most.

"Mother..."

He saw her quiet, strong features. Her high cheekbones and her long muzzle, her silken hair. Rheuhl had recreated the scene perfectly, and that meant even the dirt in her fur was accurate. The cuts on her face, on her hands. The blood pattern as it dried on her arms.

And, standing in front of her, he saw the face of her executioner. The beast with the red fur, the hulking wolf with the sword in its hands. The wolf whose name he still did not know.

All four faces were unmoving, like still paintings. Though Rheuhl had immaculately rendered the beasts, much of the landscape had been left out. Little details made it through, the burnt frames of some buildings, patches of blackened grass. Mostly it was just the grey-blue light of that empty space between memories. Something else was wrong with the image, though. He didn't realize it at first. Then he looked closer and realized that the eyes of all the faces were the glowing empty eyes of Rheuhl. He could only see the glow in whichever face he looked at. When he looked away it would shift to whichever beast he was facing, and in his periphery he saw it vanish out of the eyes of the others.

"Are you beginning to remember?"

Rheuhl's voice spoke from the mouth of Molokhn. Then it was the nameless executioner who spoke:

"You haven't really forgotten. No matter how deeply you try to bury a memory, it never completely goes away."

"What are you doing to me?" Vacka said, finally. He stumbled backwards. "I don't want this!"

"You cannot bring her back," Rheuhl, from the mouth of Besegrare.

"But you can avenge her," Molokhn said, nodding.

The copy of his mother was silent. Then Rheuhl let time slip forward, and the executioner swung his blade. He watched, not for the first time, as the cords of her throat were severed; she gagged, the skin flapping apart, the blood spilling to the floor, her body collapsing. He heard her choking and saw her shaking.

"No!" he screamed. Emotion got the better of him. It didn't matter that this was all in his head; it felt like it had the very first time. He saw the king, the prince, his mother, and they all vanished, leaving him alone with the bloodied executioner. It loomed over him.

Then he saw it was no longer even male. A young red she-wolf had taken its place, wearing the green guard's robes, holding the bloodied sword. He remembered the girl from the hills. The girl who was going to Brand.

"Now you see," said Rheuhl.

"I shouldn't... I shouldn't have doubted you," Vacka said. His head swam, his heart heavy. He felt confused. His memory was warped, his perception shifting. The girl...? But, it can't be...

"The daughter," Rheuhl crooned. "The daughter of the one who killed your mother."

Darkness swallowed him again, and he felt rushing on every side. When he finally could hear and see again he was no longer in the memory space. Nor was he floating in the sea, where he was when he'd been taken. He was in a small wooden dinghy, and he was floating on an idle wave. His face was wet with saltwater and with his own tears. Vacka sat up in the dinghy and looked around.

There, just a few leagues ahead of him, on the coast.

Brand.

Valdigt was making a name for herself. Slowly, perhaps, but she had already won a handful of duels. The day would soon be coming when a duel with Valdigt would be enough to rouse the whole town, to have them show up to the Arena in droves. She'd set the bar quite high, defeating Ghiryion in her first duel, besting the unbeatable champ. With three more victories under her belt, she'd become the new undefeated champion. Quite a few beasts showed up to her bouts, but a few more victories would make her the talk of the town.

She wondered to herself if she was ever going to go home.

It wasn't just Valdigt who was concerned. Thess had been adapting quite slowly to life with one hand. It was difficult for her, and though she tried to be supportive from the sidelines, she had her own future on her mind.

"How can I keep sailin'?" Thess had asked. "I can't even tie a rope!"

Valdigt had assured her that she was not the first sailor to be handicapped in some way, but Thess was still concerned. Worse, the lanesh she'd been chewing for the pain looked like it was starting to become a habit. Valdigt caught the girl lying like a hazy lump in her bunk, mind blissed out and cotton-padded.

Right now, she was lying with Thess in a hammock that spanned the tips of the two main masts. It was a high resting spot, and a fall from this high would quite likely be lethal. Neither of them were concerned. The hammock was big, and tightly knotted together, and a mesh of safety nets below them would catch them even if they rolled out.

Above them, the sky was like a glistening lake, deep and azure, not a cloud in sight. Valdigt imagined the world melting away, and how it would feel to rush up into the vast space. She felt her soul lifting. Thess reached out with her good hand and placed it on the she-wolf's belly; Valdigt felt it rise and fall with each motion of her breath. Here, with the otter, she felt grounded. She felt safe. Nothing could bother her; not the heat or the homesickness, or even the odd ache that her father's appearance had awoken in her.

No, not my father. A new beast now. Dhaka.

It was hard to imagine that that beast could ever have been her father, once. He was so humble, so helpful.

He'd been working hard around the ship to get things in order, for they would be launching out of Brand soon. The work didn't seem to bother him, and he often smiled and gave a small wolf's bow when he caught her eye.

For her part, Valdigt had been helping Thess restock the ship, and was using her duel winnings to help pay for repairs. Shah had spent his days in the shipyards and harbors recruiting new hands for the Conqueror. Thess had extended an invitation for Valdigt to permanently join her crew, and she'd accepted readily. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, if there were any more realistic options.

And why should this be unrealistic?

"It's too quiet," Thess said, rolling to face her.

"Hmm?"

"You, me, everythin'. Too quiet."

"It's nothing. I'm just thinking."

"Still, I'm thinkin' you're too quiet. Let's getcha mind off it, whatever it is."

"I just need to go down to the street, walk around a bit."

"I think you'll be happier up here," Thess reached out, took the girl's face with her hand, her injured arm curled up behind the she-wolf's back. They began to kiss, Valdigt's heart quickening. She tasted the sea in Thess' kiss, the warm and salty embrace of waves, of the deep. The otter was light-bodied as she eased herself up onto the other girl, and the big hammock swung, the net beneath them rippling, the time of the day passing in pieces.

Shylla looked out to the horizon. She hated these shifts, assigned to the patrol ships. The doe clutched her stomach with both hands, then brought one of her hands up to her mouth.

Eyes on the horizon! Keep it down, and keep your eyes on the... !!!

She doubled over the rail, released the contents of her stomach, loudly, then turned and sank against the rail with her head between her knees. Deshu picked that moment to come sauntering up, and he wore a stupid grin like a little fawn.

Oh, Moon take me... Not Deshu...

"You look happy to see me!" he said, loudly, to which Shylla made a rude hand gesture.

"Ouch," he held one hand to his chest, "Aren't we friends? What's with all the hate?"

"I'm nobeast's friend right now."

"Blessed Moon, you don't mean that. You're everybeast's friend."

"The only thing I am right now is a victim of the sea."

"You never were much good at sailing," Deshu said, resting his elbows on the rail beside Shylla.

"Does weren't meant to ride the waves," she mumbled.

"Neither are bucks, but you don't see me complaining! Oh, come on, why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're insufferable, Desh. I'd give anything for even a hair of that optimism."

"You can start by standing up -- Here, let me lend a hand."

Even with his help, standing was a tribulation for the young doe. She rose and her head began to swim again. She leaned over the rail, retched once more, even though her belly was empty. Deshu patted her back and then held her shoulders to support her.

"Blessed Moon, that's vile," he quipped. She looked up with eyes like vipers.

"Feel better?" he said. There's that stupid grin again.

"Not really..."

Shylla's gaze wandered over to the horizon again. Focusing on its fixed location helped her feel steady, even while the boat beneath her pitched and shuddered. Technically speaking, she was supposed to be watching the horizon even if she hadn't been feeling sick. As patrol guards, it was their duty to vet any strange ships that came through, to alert Silva's fleet if any storms or pirates showed up in the distance. Shylla never could focus on the boats that came through, always too preoccupied with trying not keel over. Though she'd applied for transfers, or permanent residence along the watch-wall that surrounded the city, she'd yet to hear back. Those Blessed shift heads were incapable of getting anything accomplished. She'd be lucky if she ever managed to get out of these duties.

"Hey, that's funny," Deshu said, pointing outwards. "Do you see that, out there?"

You're always seeing things, she thought, but then she followed the line of his point to a small shape in the waves.

"You're right, for once. There's something out there."

"Is it a boat?" he asked.

"Good question. If it is, it's very small..."

"Keep an eye on it," Deshu said, then patted her between the shoulder blades. "And try to keep it all in, okay? I'll be back with Captain Kuthil to check it out."

"I'll be here," Shylla said. She tried to focus on the shape, but her stomach kept heaving. Blessed Moon, be quick about it! I can't stand here all day.

The fleet, of course, had been alerted, but by then it was too late. The patrol ship had come sailing back in hours before its shift was up, and the things that had leapt off its deck were not deer. The bodies had been ruined--throats cut, chests stabbed, the eyes glassy and hollow--but they walked, suspended by some mysterious force.

Just before pulling in to the harbor, the ship had gone up in flames. The beasts on board had not bothered to drop anchor either, simply sailing straight into the dock, boards splintering and cracking. Innocent dockworkers in dinghies had been crushed by its weight, blood spilling and bones snapping, and other unlucky beasts had been pinned underwater and drowned. The devastation was quick, ferocious, unexpected.

But it didn't stop there.

A black wolf garbed in long robes stepped out amidst the wreckage, surrounded by the reanimated corpses. His yellow eyes swirled with spirals of black power; the same black shadow seemed to rise off his hands like steam, and the shadow he cast behind him was long and shapeless.

"Find her," the wolf said, spreading his arms out. "Find the she-wolf, and bring her to me."

"Oh, this is bad, this is bad," Rethah muttered, hastening through the hallways. The counselor turned a corner right, then left, then right again. She didn't have time to check where she was going. Thank the Moon I know my way around, she thought, then made a gesture of supplication.

Silva was not going to be pleased.

Rethah opened the side door, dusted off her feet on the little mat outside, then entered into the throne room from a back hallway. When she entered she realized that she wasn't the first one to get her. Garruk had beaten her to the throne room by what looked like several minutes. Rethah realized for perhaps the first time just how quickly word traveled here. There was no need to jump to conclusions--maybe Garruk was here for another reason.

"I hope it's good news," Silva said, watching Retha fall to her knees before the throne. She made a quick circle around her head with both hands--a religious gesture, meant to deign respect towards a god or spirit. Silva was neither, but her people had a long tradition of regarding royalty with the same reverence they afforded the higher beings in the realm of the unseen.

Silva saw the gesture and nodded, briefly. Garruk snorted. He was an unbeliever; Silva clung firmly to the idea of the royals as deities, but she wouldn't enforce it with Garruk. The general was something of a favorite of hers. Rethah rolled her eyes at him. Your spirit is weak, she thought, glancing at the huge general. Will you be captured, in the other realm? Or perhaps devoured by a spirit greater than yourself?

Then she remembered Silva's eyes on her. No time to get lost in thought.

"If this is about the mess in the harbor," Garruk said, "Then you're late. I've already informed her highness."

"And I will deal with it accordingly," Silva said, then exhaled loudly. "Moon take me, how did this happen in the first place?"

"We're still figuring that out," Garruk said.

"Not exactly," Rethah said. "I've got information about what might be happening. Something that even Garruk might not know yet."

She saw the general glaring at her from above, but kept her eyes focused on the Queen. She was still on her knees.

"The beasts of the trade quarter have reported strange monsters attacking. Like... Like deer, but dead. Dead and still walking."

"I thought you said you had new information," Garruk growled. "This is old news."

Silva raised a hand and shut all the fingers, silencing Garruk, then nodded for Rethah to continue:

"Garruk is correct, we already know about these strange creatures. Is there anything else?"

"We think we know how it's happened," Rethah said. "It looks like something we've seen before."

Silva said nothing, and Garruk held his tongue. The queen looked between the two subjects of hers, and raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something I'm missing?" she asked. When Rethah didn't respond, Garruk finally opened up.

"Sorcery," he grumbled. "The people are saying it's sorcery. Granted, we haven't seen a sorcerer in these kingdoms or any kingdom in generations. They're supposed to be gone from the world..."

"Supposed to be gone," Rethah said, "But no one said they couldn't come back."

"A sorcerer, in Brand?" Silva asked. She looked thoughtful up on her throne, head in her hands. "That can't be possible, can it? Why didn't you say anything about this, Garruk?"

He fell silent, grumbling. Didn't want to admit to that possibility, did you? She saw him draw himself up tight and drop his gaze. She turned back to Silva.

"The people are pretty worked up," Rethah admitted. "There's a lot of chaos, a lot of innocent dead. The guards have their hands full fighting to keep the monsters out of the Royal Quarter. The Trade Quarter is pretty wrecked as it is, and they've got their hands full containing the damage. That being said, there are plenty of people who've seen the beast they say is responsible. They say that power leaks from his hands, from his body, that he's controlling the monsters, making their dead bodies move."

"It doesn't make sense," Garruk said. "A sorcerer? And a wolf, at that. What cause would he have to attack Brand?"

"A wolf?" Silva bolted upright in her seat. "What do you mean, a wolf?"

"That's just it," Rethah said. "The sorcerer appears to be a wolf, not a deer. But Garruk's right. There haven't been any real tensions between any of the kingdoms in a while, particularly not a kingdom so far North. What could the wolves possibly want with us?"

"Are there others?" Silva asked.

"Just the one," Garruk growled. "He appears to be acting alone, though we can't even guess what his end goal is."

"Go gather the the rest of the guard, and call up any soldiers in reserve. We'll put up a front around the palace, and we'll send the rest to quell the sorcerer," Silva stood now, taking charge of the situation. Rethah had never seen her acting so deliberately before, or speak as commandingly. "Call whoever you need. If you've got extra guards in the Shoals, pull them as well. We'll need as many beasts as possible covering the situation in the Trade Quarter; everybeast else should be focusing on capturing or killing this wolf."

"Your highness," Garruk raised both hands and crossed them at his shoulders, saluting the queen, then departed from the room.

"Oh, Rethah," Silva said, sitting again. "What are we to do?"

That's your job to figure out, isn't it? Rethah rose from her knees and repeated the circular gesture around her head. She knew Silva well enough to know her question was rhetorical. Then she turned and exited, from the same side door she'd entered. As she left she looked back once to see that Silva had risen from her throne and was pacing up and down the stairs, the rings on her ears and body rattling with each step.