The Brightest Shadow, page 38
"Well, fuck me. You're not wasting my time." Herakin stared at them all as if surprised, though his face still had a reflexive smirk.
"What is it?" Rhilanor asked. "Something we were looking for?"
"No, not exactly. But this was made from one of the minerals that we're looking for. If someone created voidlinks from it long ago, they must have gotten the materials from somewhere." His smirk slid off his face, replaced with a skeptical expression. "Though given how void materials work, this might not mean anything. What the fuck were they thinking, sending me here?"
Since no one knew what was going on, they just stayed there, clustered around the table and its mysterious contents. After a while, Herakin sighed and sat back in his chair.
"Not sure what this means, but it's better than fucking nothing. All of you get the rest of the day off as a reward, I guess. But if we might find things like this, we can't just have brutes smashing their way through the rock. Dammit, but I don't think I can get a proper crew here..."
Herakin chewed on one finger as he stared at the rubble on his desk. Whatever the issue was, Melal was tired and didn't really care. He'd been given a day off, that was good enough for him. The only reason he stayed was that the others hadn't moved away either and it would have felt strange to be the first to go.
Eraes leaned over to look and her eyes widened slightly. "Is that a box? As in, crafted by human hands?"
"Or mansthein hands, thank you very much." Herakin shook his head. "Old ruins are nothing special, though. Lots of dead civilizations around the world, you practically trip over them. What I'm trying to figure out is if this is an accident, or if we started digging here in order to find things like this."
"Are they valuable?"
"Not like anyone will pay for them. But maybe the materials could be reforged..."
Before they could talk further, Safakiv came up to the group, demanding to know what was going on. Eraes made an expression of distaste and moved out of the door on the other side, which seemed to signal for the others to scatter as well.
Melal finally slouched away from the group, getting to his bunk as soon as possible. He relaxed back on it, hands behind his head. The numbness throughout his arms was a bit unpleasant, but it was better than the ache after a full day of work. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Whatever they'd found, he had a feeling it wouldn't matter in the end. It wasn't like anyone paid them. No, it was just some stupid game played among the Deathspawn. When the Hero came, all of that would be swept aside in cleansing fire.
Until then, the Legend would simply wait. Melal was good at waiting.
Chapter 26
-
"All populations in central Breilin eat a substance known as 'bread' - a simple starchy compound largely without flavor. For them, food is considered solely a source of energy, not culture or pleasure. Soldiers stationed in the region are recommended to eat this substance so as to be accepted, but creation of other foods will likely be necessary for the sake of morale."
- mansthein field manual on central Breilin
-
Veron fumbled one of her tiles, sending it skittering across the table. She gave a belching apology and grabbed for it, palming another tile from the stack in the meantime. The other patrons laughed and at least one noticed that she was cheating, but everyone was too drunk to care.
Once she got her tile in place, Veron sat back and took a long drink from the gourd beside her. It'd take forever before it was her turn again. Jabble was a fucking stupid game, only a little better when completely wasted. She didn't know what all the rest were squinting about at the tiles, as if they were going to find genius rattling around in their heads.
The geezer to her left took his sweet time ogling all his tiles, even though he was just going to create another stack like always. He'd said his name and Veron had immediately forgotten it. Since he was a boring geezer except for his eyepatch, he was Eyepatch to her.
Across the table from her was Shifty, who was only pretending to drink and cheating his ass off. Most of her coins were heading over to him. She'd have been okay with it if the bastard wasn't so goddamn smug about each hand he won. Veron took another drink and eyed his pile of winnings. Like a dozen Westerns, twenty Easterns, a couple Southerns, and a shitload of random smaller coins. An okay amount for one night, but he kept cheating.
To her right was Fuckface, who had been blubbering over everyone since he got drunk. Had pawed at her a few times, also pawed at Shifty. Several of his tiles were facing the wrong way, letting everyone see them. She wasn't sure he'd even bet the last few rounds, not that it mattered.
"I'll make Castle this round." Eyepatch put a tile in place on the left, because of course he did. Veron rolled her eyes.
"Have you even seen a Castle?"
He snorted and scratched at his remaining eye. "I'll have you know I visit East Corah every few years. Plenty of castles there."
"She meant in the game." Shifty smirked and placed his own tile, capturing the set. "You're terrible at this."
"This... how did you...?" Eyepatch stared down at the tiles, shocked. The answer to the question he asked was that Shifty had been swapping his tiles with the discard pile since they'd gotten drunk. The answer to the question he should have asked was that he was a fucking idiot.
How stupid did you have to be to play Jabble badly? Veron was shit at games and knew it, which was why she'd always refused to play Yenith against that Teralanthan bitch. When it came to actual strategy, Veron wasn't so good. But playing Jabble was just about not being a complete fucking moron and then hoping you got lucky.
Or cheating.
Now it was Fuckface's turn, and he didn't do shit. When Shifty elbowed him, he lurched backward, nearly falling off his chair. "Do ya... do ya remember when tha whole fort..." Fuckface made a rude sound and waved his hand, roughly approximating an explosion. Veron took a drink to avoid showing any interest, while Eyepatch glared at him.
"The fuck are you talking about?" Veron asked. Eyepatch glared at him, but Fuckface was beyond noticing.
"Ya know... new weapon, everybody said... Kor... Koray... Korayny... that Aryabaus guy..." He made another vague gesture, confirming what she had suspected.
"I heard about that. But if Aryabaus really has some brand new weapon, why isn't he using it more? What's the point of attacking just once?"
Eyepatch and Shifty glanced at each other, which wasn't suspicious at all. Eyepatch eventually answered slowly. "It's just rumors, but they say the Coran resistance is always on top of him. He tries to do anything, they hit hard. They have him pinned in his keep."
"Huh. How about that." Veron realized that Fuckface had finally made an attempt at a move, so she slid a tile of her own into place, capturing the pyramid in front of her. "But they're not confident enough to take him on directly?"
"You'd have to be a fool." Shifty was still eyeing her suspiciously. "Do you have some kind of stake in this conflict?"
"Me? Nah. Just worried about more bandits on the roads. Dangerous enough for a woman going alone, much less if both armies get broken up."
That got a snort from Eyepatch. "Please, the resistance is all local boys. They're not going to bother an upstanding Coran woman."
Veron raised both eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything. After Eyepatch made another awful attempt at a Castle, Shifty seized the entire round. As he raked in his winnings, Veron idly considered whether they were working together, Eyepatch setting up Shifty to win. Didn't quite add up, though.
As they kept playing, Veron kept losing her money and gaining information. They clearly had some sort of connection to the resistance, but it was a secondary thing. A little better than rumors, just not much better. Still, she'd take it, and it wasn't a problem to lend them her money.
When she'd started out trying to gather information about the resistance, all she'd wanted was to be sure it was safe to go back to being a bandit. She'd visited the hideout of some old friends and found the place smashed to pieces and everything looted. Thought it might have been an internal fight, if not for the bandit hung up by his balls as a warning to others.
Asking around, she'd discovered that the locals thought it was the Coran resistance, helping to defend them. Obviously a lie. Most likely she thought this resistance was close to banditry itself, it just knew it was smarter to prey on other bandits first. But given that they didn't seem weak, she didn't want to risk the chance that they were true believers. So for now, she burned money drinking with fools.
As the night wore on, Veron got tired of Jabble, tired of the cheap booze, and especially tired of Fuckface taking forever to place every fucking tile. She realized that it was time to bet again, her vision blurring. How much had she drunk? Veron thought pretty well when she was drunk, but this was near her limit. Besides, she doubted she'd get any more information out of them.
"Just... just a second..." Veron slumped down, obviously fumbling around in her left boot. After a time she came out with a single copper bit. She had five Western Crowns in her right boot, of course, but she was saving those for when she actually needed money. "Uh... boys... I think I might be out..."
Shifty gave her an oily smile. "You can't play Jabble with three, though. We'd let you keep playing... you want to wager your shirt next?"
Veron half-faked a drunken laugh. "You little shit... I'd have to be way drunker than this for you to have a shot at me..."
"Maybe we should go," Eyepatch said. He tried to stand and slumped back down into his seat. "Yeah... it's really late..."
Waving her gourd of cheap beer, Veron staggered to her feet and slouched out of the tavern, leaving most of her money on the table. She'd spent the entire night getting increasingly drunk, lost all the money she'd wagered, and gained only a little information.
Good enough for one evening.
Lurching into an alleyway, Veron pulled herself up against the wall and focused. She brought her hands together, drawing all the sein in her body in a difficult pattern and then sending it flooding downward. Veron closed her eyes to meditate, gave a loud belch, and began the technique.
Though she'd grown practiced with the skill over the years, it had never become routine. Every time, she always remembered. Fighting over scraps in the streets of Noraltan, stepping over shit running in the gutters, chasing after her friends. They were mostly dead now. It all rushed back to her and for a moment, she was a child again.
A very drunken child. Veron took all the fleeting innocence and heavy memory and squeezed it into a little ball. Once she finished, it was a simple matter to let it float outward. As it left her stomach, all her drunkenness vanished.
She was still going to vomit soon to finish purging the alcohol, and she'd have a hell of a hangover in the morning, but Veron was no longer even slightly drunk. After retrieving her sword from where she'd stashed it, she headed back to the tavern and waited for her three friends to emerge.
They eventually came, supporting each other. Fuckface made a pathetic attempt at some kind of drinking song before collapsing, forcing Eyepatch to half-carry him. Frustratingly slowly, they made their way down the street. It was a dark night with clouds blocking most of the stars, so she just needed to wait until they got further away from the lights of the tavern.
Veron tracked them carefully to see if they'd say anything important, but nothing useful emerged from their stupid mouths. Irritating to the end. She waited until they reached an area of the street with no open windows nearby, then fell on them.
In a flash, she grabbed Shifty's sword and tossed it behind her. They turned on her in surprise, with varying degrees of slowness. Veron broke her gourd over Eyepatch's head, dropping him to the ground. Shifty pulled a knife and she disarmed him with a quick flick of her sword before putting the edge to his neck. Perfectly executed.
She then kicked Fuckface in the balls, which wasn't necessary, but he deserved it.
"I've decided I want to play one more round." She tapped her sword against Shifty's neck and smiled. "And I think my hand is a lot better than yours."
"Who the hell are you working for?" Shifty asked.
"Right now, I'm working for the money on your belt. Though I can work for your guts, if you really want."
Shifty seethed, but when he met her gaze he started untying his money pouch. Smart move, considering that she would have been willing to kill them if it was easier. "That's everything. Why are you doing this?"
"Now, unless I have it wrong, at least one of you three is working for this resistance. Am I wrong?"
No answers, just sullen looks. Well, one sullen look, one half-conscious glazed stare, one wince of pain.
"You're lucky I don't actually care all that much. Fine, just one more question. What's the resistance's opinion on the Hero and the Legend?"
"What?" Shifty seemed surprised at that and she didn't think he was faking. "There can't be much to those stories. Something obviously happened in Bundlin, and they - I heard the resistance discussed trying to gather warriors from there, but nothing came of it."
"No point. Most everybody left there is seinshocked." Veron considered asking more, but her sein flow was starting to fluctuate and she was feeling queasy again. "I'll let you live, if you give me the money you have hidden in your boots."
Grumbling, Shifty took off his boots and tossed the remaining coins at her. Veron flipped them up to her hand with the tip of her sword, not taking her eyes from the three men.
"Alright, now give me your pants."
"What? I'm not hiding anything else, honestly."
"Gimme yer pants."
Eyeing her nervously, Shifty took off his pants, leaving him in nothing but a tied loincloth. "Just what are you doing?"
"Your pants are a very important part of the plan." Veron held them open and then vomited out half the contents of her stomach into the pant legs. Now that her body was in balance, her sein started to flow more freely. She wiped her mouth off on a clean part of the pants and then dropped them onto the ground. "Alright, boys. Anybody asks what happened to you, tell them you were ravished by the Elegant Lady Thief of the Chorhan Expanse."
With that, she leapt backward, clearing the nearest buildings and disappearing from their line of sight. Veron hefted the coins in the pouch and smiled. There was enough here to buy some proper booze and drink herself into a stupor for quite a while. Once, that would have been good enough.
But that wouldn't do, not anymore. It had all been a fucking joke, but following the Hero had felt... substantial. Like she was a part of a greater cause that gave her life meaning. Even if all three of them died, she couldn't shrug off the remnants so easily. Maybe it would be better to stab the next Hero in the face and see if that helped.
Because there was going to be another one, Veron was sure of that. Until then, there was no way she could go back to the life she wanted.
Now she really needed a drink.
Chapter 27
-
"The human population in central Breilin is divided into four primary subspecies. Estronese are the most developed with well-known healers, Corans are the most numerous and primarily fight with sword and shield, Rhen are known for uncontrollable libidos, and Oken are merchants who deal primarily in textiles."
- mansthein field manual on central Breilin
-
At the end of the day, everything hurt. Slaten eased down into a tolerable position on the grass, giving up on finding a comfortable one. His entire body ached from the exercise. Though his sein had been overdrawn, he forced it to flow naturally to begin recovering despite the burning. Even his eyes hurt from straining to see in the poor light of the tunnels.
All the pain was worth it because it took him forward. Their work in the mines seemed mostly pointless, breaking useless rocks and occasionally finding some sort of artifact, but the act of doing the work was what he needed. Bit by bit, he was building the strength he would need if he ever left Ith Ire.
"Slaten!" Teren jumped onto his stomach, and that did not feel good at all.
Swallowing a cry of pain, Slaten managed to smile at the girl. "Good evening, Teren."
"Today I had to carry lots of things. They let me play with the cats but not for very long. Herakin made us sort a bunch of rocks. I think he's a useless waste of space. Do you think he's a useless waste of space?"
"What?" He stared at her a moment, trying to figure out why a child would say something like that. Then it hit him: Eraes. Teren must be copying something she'd heard Eraes say. He wasn't sure whether or not the woman would be a bad influence.
"I think he's kind of mean, but he's not a bad Deathspawn. Not as nice as Ulviab, Ulviab is nice even when I can't play with the cats. But he's not like the bad ones."
Not sure what to say to that, Slaten just patted Teren on the back. She settled down against him, mumbling about her day in a softer voice as she drifted toward sleep. It seemed her work did tire her out, even if Eraes assured him they didn't make her do anything too difficult.
In some ways, Ith Ire wasn't too different from a normal isolated village - albeit one that the population couldn't choose to leave. Since supplies were limited, some had begun farming as well. Given the distance to larger towns, they needed to become self-sufficient. Their population wasn't large enough to have separate tailors, cobblers, and blacksmiths for humans and mansthein. Despite the reasons they'd been brought here, the daily interactions wore down the tension between them.
It wouldn't last. As Teren fell asleep, Slaten contemplated what he feared was inevitable.
Though his mind had been hazy on it for a time, now he was certain that he never wanted another Hero to appear. Yet he was equally certain that one would, eventually. Part of him hoped that one would appear far away from them, but that just forced the problem on someone else. He couldn't see any solution, so all he could do was train and hope he would be strong enough next time.
"I didn't understand a word, yet I feel like I know what she was saying." The voice was soft enough not to wake Teren. Slaten shifted carefully to look up and found Rhilanor standing nearby, smiling fondly. Melal stood not far behind him.
