A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 36
Even after so long, one piece of Slaten still regarded her with absolute skepticism. If she was more prone to self-deception, Natala could have believed that it had fallen away, in the times when he relaxed around her. Though he allowed himself to enjoy her company, that enjoyment was always held at a distance and scrutinized for ulterior motives.
That scrutiny would never end, because he analyzed nothing but her honest self. And yet she found herself speaking whatever easy lies came to mind, digging both of them deeper. When Natala sighed and leaned against him, nothing in her was feigned, yet it might as well have been everything.
~ ~ ~
Slaten had hoped that they would be interrupted before they reached their destination. He had argued as long as he dared that they should have waited for Tani and Veron before they ventured to the northern nations. Unfortunately, Melal's confidence was unshakable and he had the loyalty of all the Bloodskins with them.
As Slaten stared at the port ahead, he wondered if it would matter. Even if the others would somehow be drawn to them, they would still need to travel alone and finding one another could be difficult. The Legend might end well, but he had seen too many die to believe that was any comfort whatsoever.
His mind wandered yet again to the Sage of Mount Tmil and their strange quest into the north. In a rare show of good judgment, Melal had insisted that they not ask any sailors about the seal, since they would spread the information too far. That meant that they were about to enter Portant with absolutely no idea where they were going. Melal had a vision of a pit in the earth where the seal lay, but that was all they knew.
"Torgaadi lies to the east!" Melal stood at the front of the ship, in the sailors' way, pointing away from the dock. "At long last, our journey to the north is complete! From here, we find glory!"
Since he had avoided mentioning their real purpose, Slaten decided that was sufficient. He ignored Melal and continued staring outward, though his ruminations were soon interrupted by Natala walking up beside him.
"The sailors say it takes two days to reach the town," she said, "but if we run, we may be able to arrive in one."
"You've been inquiring?"
"There's been nothing else to do, with everyone preparing. Did you know that the ending of the name 'Torgaadi' means that it's only a town? If it was a great city, the name would be Torgaad. Apparently that rule applies to nearly every word in Reili, so a small sword would be a swordi."
Over the past several days, Slaten had done little but train and churn his thoughts. He felt a pang of disappointment in himself that he had never reached out or displayed any curiosity. Whatever her other qualities, Natala listened where he didn't. Pushing all of that aside, he found a milder answer. "Does that mean that the Reili language is a small Reil?"
"I asked that too." Natala gave him a quick smile that he wanted to believe was genuine. "One could not call the sailors scholars, but they insisted that it wasn't. I think that '-li' has another meaning."
"I see." Slaten subsided into silence, wondering if he had it in him to learn Reili.
Once he had thrown himself into becoming fluent in Coran, and he had a broken understanding of Futhik. But speaking the mansthein language had done him little good, and he had no idea if they would even be in the north for long before Melal dragged them away again. Trying to build something meaningful in any location felt pointless.
Though Natala left him alone with his thoughts for a time, as they came up beside the dock and the sailors began their work, she spoke again. "Did you wonder why Torgaadi is inland instead of here by the river?"
"This place does seem rather small." Though some buildings clustered around the docks, they could barely be called a village. It was a space for ships to dock, nothing more.
"They told me that hundreds of years ago, the border of Portant lay further to the west, past the river. Espalese warriors who wanted revenge against Portant would sail up the river and strike at the most convenient targets. So while many new towns lie along the river, the older locations remain some distance away."
Slaten murmured something about it being interesting, and it truly was, but he found it difficult to focus. After so long in the Sotunn Mountains, the Hero would again come into contact with a delicate political balance. He feared that over the past days he had been as idle as Melal when it came to what truly mattered.
He remained mired in his own thoughts while they separated from the sailors, made their payments, and left the cluster of buildings. Once they stood outside, however, he forced himself to focus. The desert had been giving way to brush and then trees for days, yet somehow he was still surprised to find the land was green around them. It was far less flat than the Chorhan Expanse, and the grass was shorter, yet he found some familiarity in the gently rolling hills.
"Everyone pay attention!"
Melal shouted mostly to the Bloodskin warriors, who had begun to scatter over the unfamiliar ground, but Slaten needed to shift his focus as well. There was nothing convenient for Melal to stand on, yet he still managed to draw all eyes as if he towered over them.
"Remember that we cause no trouble for now, not until we learn how many Deathspawn lurk in these parts. We reach Torgaadi, we enter quietly, then we begin to ask questions. We don't show our strength until we know the location of the seal with absolute certainty, or the Deathspawn may steal it away. Understood?"
The Bloodskin warriors yelled a wordless affirmation, then they began to march east. Laeri clutched her staff, worrying that she wouldn't be able to keep up, only for Melal to scoop her up in his arms and carry her in front of him. Slaten glanced over at Natala.
"It would be... difficult to carry you that way."
She sighed. "I'm the only one left who can't run, so we don't have a choice."
"Please excuse my hand." He shifted over to her, ready to carry her on his shoulder. Natala merely snorted as she cooperated.
"Given what everyone else thinks, you might as well take the opportunity. They'd think better of you for it."
Despite her words, as Slaten hefted her onto his shoulder, he was careful only to touch her leg. Even so, keeping her steady while he ran required gripping her thigh in a way that made the running much more uncomfortable. At least Natala knew better than to tease him, or at the very least estimated that teasing him would be disadvantageous.
As they ran, however, he was surprised at how easy it was. Before, he would have needed to steadily flow sein through his shoulders to prevent her weight from injuring his back. Now, however, his body barely seemed to notice that he carried a grown woman over one shoulder. It was not the confirmation of his training that he had wanted, but he would accept it.
The distance melted away as he fell into the rhythm of the run, though he found himself wishing that Tani was there to run alongside him. Natala at least spoke to him for a time, before the jolting pace wore her down. That left him running alongside savage raiders, following the Hero.
When they stopped to rest, Slaten was surprised to find that he felt as though he could have kept running. What would once have been a sprint had tired him out no more than a relaxed walk. Natala obviously needed the break, however, clutching her stomach where it had struck against his shoulder. He helped her to a sitting position and knelt down beside her.
"Are you alright?"
"If I didn't practice my own defensive arts, my stomach would be one solid bruise." She winced as she rubbed it. "If it will stop me from bouncing, please, grab my ass as hard as you can."
That awkward line of conversation was interrupted when Melal strode up to them. He barely looked at Natala, just gestured for Slaten to step away. Once they stood apart from the group, Melal spoke in a low voice.
"I have been thinking about what the Sage told us. In the final battle, I will lead an army of all the world against the Deathspawn. But before then, I require companions, not soldiers." Melal swept his gaze over the Bloodskin warriors with noble contempt. "These men... much as I have enjoyed their company, they are not destined companions. Whether they live or die, the Legend cares not."
Slaten said nothing.
"When we reach Torgaadi, I doubt the Bloodskins will be able to find those we need. But there must surely be allies for us there. Those who would be sympathetic to our cause and hate the Deathspawn as much as we do. I will focus on the seal, and you should listen for word of it as well, but I will trust you and Laeri to find those allies."
"I... will do what I can."
"Good man." Melal clapped him on the shoulder, then moved away. He didn't allow the group to rest for long before urging them to begin running again, leading Slaten to wonder if he had stopped for that reason alone.
Though the remainder of their run went smoothly enough, soon the roads became too dense for them to avoid. To avoid looking like the raiders they were, the group finally slowed down, allowing Natala and Laeri to walk. They moved past several groups of travelers, most moving without any fear of attack. The reason why became obvious not long after, when an armored group of errants marched down the road.
The only interruption was when they had to move to avoid a wagon pulled by a truly enormous beast. Most of the Bloodskins stared at it in astonishment, and Slaten stared as well. He knew that the stocky creature must be a behemoth, but he hadn't expected such a powerful creature.
In his mind, he had imagined a type of aurochs, but the behemoth's four legs were pillars of twisted muscle. It had a powerful tail as well, but it was bound to the front of the cart and the driver, an unassuming farmer, struck it with a switch to guide the beast.
Slaten intended to move on, but saw that Natala lingered, staring at a creature she had previously seen only in illustrations. Eventually the farmer turned his attention back to her, less curiosity than venom, so she followed Slaten. They caught up to the others without him carrying her and he realized that they had come within sight of Torgaadi.
Though clearly a smaller town than Bundlin, it was surrounded by an impressively fortified wall. It did not stretch high, but the upper battlements were covered in spikes that threatened in all directions. Even a warrior who could leap that high would struggle to land on the top of the wall and not be knocked into the spikes. He would have marveled at the huge quantity of metal, but he noticed that many travelers carried metal staffs and the town itself had a large iron gate. Metal appeared to be common in the northern nations... or the Maenhu, as he wasn't entirely sure about the name.
The gates stood open, but errants guarded either side of the entrance. They allowed most travelers to pass without any concern, until Melal's group approached. Then those suits of armor began to move, blocking their path and settling hands on weapons.
"What is your business in Torgaadi?" One of the errants stepped forward, and Slaten noted a bright metal band attached to his shoulder plate. He saw that every other guard had a band, but with different lengths and patterns. Presumably an insignia of rank.
"We," Melal said grandly, "are fleeing violence with the Deathspawn in the mountains. Will your community accept us?"
Several of the errants in back shifted uncomfortably, but the leader remained as still as if he truly was a suit of armor. "Normally, all travelers are free to pass through Torgaadi. You, however, appear to be traveling with a large number of warriors who have hidden their rank."
"Rank? I don't know what that is."
"Then step this way. We need to evaluate if you are a threat before you can be permitted into the town." The leader turned away, expecting to be followed. Though Melal looked incensed at first, he ground his teeth and gestured for the others to follow him. They moved away from the entrance, around the side of the first fortification.
There, the leader gestured to one of the other errants, who revealed a strange branch with several glass spheres embedded in it. "I suppose you've never seen a Wooden Judge before," the guard said. "It will judge your sein. Each of you must be evaluated."
Melal gestured for one of the Bloodskins to go first, as if he expected it to be a trap. The man grabbed the bottom of the branch... and nothing happened. After a pause, the leader of the guards sighed.
"You need to let your sein flow through the branch."
The Bloodskin growled back at him, then turned his growl on the branch. Several errants laughed, and a few of the Bloodskin men began to reach for weapons. Slaten thought that he should do something to forestall a fight, yet remained silent. To his surprise, Patule was the one to step forward, examining the branch and then speaking to the Bloodskin roughly.
"This little stick wants to know how hot your blood is. Grip it loosely, but let your blood flow down your arm."
Though his instruction was simple, it seemed to work: one of the spheres on the branch shone brightly. The lead errant nodded. "An Ironsquire, then. Take this and hand the Wooden Judge to the next of you."
As the branch was passed from person to person, those who finished were given small bands of metal that looked like cheap versions of those the errants wore. Slaten quickly gathered that Portant must be an extremely hierarchical culture, though they seemed to place everyone on a regimented scale instead of casting them into specific roles like the Oken.
Without touching the Wooden Judge, he couldn't be sure, but he suspected that it evaluated the quality of one's sein. Most of the weaker Bloodskins made one sphere light up and received the "Ironsquire" band. A few only made the sphere flicker weakly and received a lesser version of the same pin. Several achieved two and were instead declared Ironlords of one type or another. Ranks within ranks.
Except that Slaten was not sure that the Bloodskin warriors were being fairly judged. Yes, it was possible that Portant had developed sein technology that measured a warrior perfectly, but it was also likely that the raw physical strength of the Bloodskins could not be accurately measured. Many of the errants appeared to be Ironlords, judging by their metal bands, and Slaten did not think they were superior to the stronger raiders.
"Slaten, you next." Melal shoved him forward, so Slaten had no choice but to grasp the Wooden Judge. Remembering the principle of the sein spheres, he let his sein flow into it.
Three of the spheres lit up and he was declared a Greater Ironlord, which was higher than most of the Bloodskins. Slaten stared at the metal band they handed him and felt no particular pride. It was crudely made of a metal so weak he could easily bend it in his hands.
Only a few of the Bloodskins were given the rank of Lesser Ironlord, and only Patule surpassed Slaten as a "Peak Ironlord". Melal clearly intended to go last, which Slaten suspected was wise. When Laeri shuffled forward, some of the Bloodskins laughed, but none of the errants seemed to find it even slightly remarkable, so they handed her the Wooden Judge.
Four spheres kindled to light and a surprised Laeri was declared a Peak Ironlord. The Bloodskins were at first astonished, then the derision began. Whatever value they had placed on the test disappeared.
When Melal finally stepped forward, only the errants were still watching. The moment his fingers curled around the branch, the spheres began to glow... and then the wood itself. Both grew brighter and brighter until without warning, the branch snapped in half and fell to the ground. All the errants fixated on him and the leader pulled open his helm, revealing the astonished face of an older man.
"I have never seen a Wooden Judge respond so... just who are you?"
"I'm a simple traveler who wants to visit your town." Melal swelled with pride, though he managed to avoid declaring himself the Hero. "Will you permit us entry?"
After some discussion, the guards agreed to allow them in. They gave Melal a band of a strange white metal, clearly better crafted than all the others. Slaten pinned his band to the top of his mantle, while most of the Bloodskins shoved theirs into pouches or threw them on the ground. Laeri simply held hers as if it was inexplicable.
With the judgment complete, they were allowed to enter Torgaadi. Melal led most of the Bloodskins down the main street, but he looked over his shoulder at Slaten. The message was clear enough. Slaten advanced in a different direction to explore the town, though he noted Natala at his heels.
"You didn't try the Wooden Judge," he said. She only shook her head.
"I did not see how it could benefit me in any way. Do you think it judged the Bloodskins fairly?"
"I am... not sure. I would say that it judges the sein and not the body, but since sein is as important to the body as blood, how can that be? In my travels, I have met people who believed many different things about sein. This is another belief, but not one I understand."
After that answer, Natala seemed content to follow him and observe their surroundings. Though Slaten spent some time looking over the town as well, it seemed not so different from Bundlin to him. The buildings were made of stone and wood instead of mud bricks, and more of them rose to a second level, but the dirty streets were mostly the same. He saw fewer stalls but more carts. Trivial differences.
The people who walked the streets spoke Reili instead of Coran, and their appearances differed, but they struck him as fundamentally the same as people anywhere else. At first he had expected everyone to have a rank, but soon realized that only warriors wore a band. If so, the hierarchy was restricted to errants, which would be very different from the Oken.
"What exactly do you intend to do?" Natala asked.
"I'm not sure. Around the Hero, events seem to... fall into place. If Melal is convinced that we need to be here, then I might stumble across something important." Slaten glanced back at her. "He ignores you, but your observations might be useful. We could split up and meet back here at sunset."
"No." She stepped closer to him, eyes narrowing. "These errants might dress in armor, and the books might speak of their nobility, but they are still human. I would not trust myself alone to them."
"Ah." Slaten stared at her, realizing that he had been inconsiderate but unsure what to say. "You can come with me, but I'm not sure what I'm doing."
