Teren gasped rapidly as he bent over to catch his breath. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry, having drunk all his water early into the hike.
"You need to work on your breathing," remarked Ronic. He and Baltry sat on the side of the trail in front of a solitary building, playing cards with each other. It was the first time Teren had seen them since they had started out, as they and Hokdul had quickly outpaced him.
Still trying to get air, he didn't bother answering. At least he had beaten his master, if not by much. "Where's… Where's Hokdul?"
"Trying to get us rooms. He says we'll have to stop for today." Baltry nodded to the building. It was nearly identical to the ones in the village, aside from not being built on a terraced slope. There was a walled-in area off to the side, where a mother ox and calf were resting. The calf had gotten its head stuck in the water pail and was trotting about blindly.
"Last house for a while," added Ronic. "And he says it's not safe sleeping outdoors."
Rotwood appeared. He had found himself a walking stick, and despite his late arrival he looked to be doing better than Teren felt. His master groaned as he took a deep knee bend.
Farstride was right beside him with his pack slung over her shoulder. She smirked as she saw the state of Teren compared to her apprentices. "I was starting to worry you deathcrafters were going to outshine us every step of the trip."
His Master's laugh turned into a hacking cough. "You wanna shine? Use some of that lifebreathing on us."
"No problem." Farstride placed a hand on his head, and Rotwood groaned with pleasure.
She did Teren next. A warmth spread throughout his body as her fingers massaged his temple. The pain in his legs and lungs faded away. But as soon as the hand came away much of the aching returned.
Ronic noticed his expression. "It's your body," he explained. "Lifebreathing and deathcrafting don't mix, our magic isn't gonna stick around."
Teren sighed. "You grass chewers could have sprinted here the whole way, couldn't you?"
Baltry shook his head. "I've barely started breath control. I don't get as tired as you might, but I won't be running anywhere in this mountain air."
Ronic shrugged. "Maybe I could. But the more I run ahead the more I'll have to wait for you all."
Their guide poked his head out of the door. "Good, you all are here. I have found you two rooms. Sharing is no problem, yes?" Hokdul disappeared back inside before any of them could answer.
Rotwood wiggled his eyebrows at Farstride. "Keep me warm?"
She rolled her eyes and walked inside.
…
Teren flopped down onto his cot with a sigh of relief. He yelped as Ronic threw his bag onto his stomach.
"Too early to sleep," said Ronic. "C'mon, I want to go check out that river."
Teren groaned. "The one that's now two hundred spans below us? No way."
"It's scenic, it'll cheer you up." Ronic grabbed him by the legs. "Balt! Get in here and help me."
He protested helplessly as the two lifebreathers pulled him by his ankles out of their bedroom. The masters and Hokdul gathered in the main room stared at him as he was dragged on by screaming, before going back to whatever they were discussing.
Admittedly, there was a hint of a smile on his face. But he still landed a few blows on the both of them when they let him up. He looked down at the steep cliff of pale rocks and dirt below him. "We just spent all afternoon hiking upwards, you know."
Ronic flew down the slope like a madman, trusting in his body in a way only a lifebreather could. Baltry wasn't far behind, but at least he had the decency to stumble a few times.
Teren cursed. He followed them down by skidding on his ass, grabbing onto roots and stones to help slow his descent.
At the bottom the river roared on by, that same clear and icy blue as before. It was separated from the pines on both sides by a field of grey boulders. It was such a mess of rocks that even Wavy Brand might have had a hard time navigating through the rapids here.
Ronic erupted from the water laughing. He had thrown his clothes on the shore, wasting no time in washing off the city's stench in the slack water behind a boulder. He whooped. "Tell me you aren't glad we came down here!"
"We rode up this exact same river just today."
Ronic splashed him. "And it's just as amazing as it was earlier. You just didn't notice because you were in your dark place."
Baltry pointed upstream. "See how the cliff's dropoff gets steeper? I'd bet this river isn't running half as hot as it could be." He whistled. "We don't have them like this in the Islands."
"What is it like in West Cicada anyway?" asked Teren. He knelt down, fishing for interesting rocks on the riverbed.
"Hmm." Baltry thought about it as he laid back on one of the larger boulders. "Well, we get a lot of storms. And the ocean's filled with all sorts of eerie things. If you wander into the wrong part of the water you'll have the Reefborn, or something even worse trying to eat you alive. But it's not all bad. Food's good, and our women don't wear much."
Teren perked up. "Really!"
"Ha! You'd never know, because us Islanders tend to dress all formal when traveling to places like Decidual for trade. But in Shereo most of them stick with sashes and loincloths. Oh, and a lot of mahdo.
"Mahdo?"
"It's black skinpaint. Dries fast, doesn't wash off easy. Pretty convenient for skinswitchers." Baltry smiled. "And it doesn't hide much."
"Hey, I heard a rumor about Reefborn women." Ronic began climbing out. "Is it true they try to lure you out to sea so they can–?"
A horned eagle the larger than a cow swooped down, plunging its claws into Ronic and carrying the screaming apprentice into the sky.
Baltry's jaw dropped. "What the hell was that!?"
Teren looked on helplessly as the hybrid carried a thrashing Ronic high up into the sky. He tried to draw in power, but nothing was coming. He looked at Baltry. "Get the masters."
"But–"
"Now, Baltry!"
The lifebreather started scrambling up the slope. He paused and turned back, pulling something out from underneath his coat, the rakji blade he had bought in Merdz. He tossed it to Teren, whose hands were shaking so badly that he barely held onto it.
The horned eagle's ascent began to level out. Then it let go of Ronic.
Ronic plummeted to the ground, smashing into rocks at breakneck speed with a sickening crunch. Teren screamed, sprinting to reach his friend. Fear coursed through his body, surging through him with a primal truth– they were being hunted.
Ronic's body was sprawled out at an unnatural angle, facedown on the rocks. His leg was bending the wrong way and there was blood pouring out of his face. Guttural noises were coming from his mouth.
"No, no, no," he muttered. "Come on Ronic, stay with me!" Teren grabbed a rock, throwing it desperately at the creature circling above. The bird must have dropped him on purpose. Let the fall take care of incapacitating the meal and swoop back in for what was left. If Teren ran now, they'd never find Ronic's body. He screamed in frustration.
The horned eagle didn't wait long. It shot right at Teren, who barely dodged out of the way. Its talon caught on his cloak, tearing it off him and carrying it into the air. The hybrid squawked, fighting to untangle itself from the fabric.
He gritted his teeth. It had grazed his shoulder and blood was seeping down his arm. Yet the pain cleared his head in a way he couldn't explain. He gripped the rakji blade tight, keeping his eyes on his flying death.
Ronic grabbed him by the ankle. His body, a well of lifebreathing, was already knitting itself back together. "Ter," he croaked.
"Don't talk. Baltry is getting help."
"It won't stay in… In your body. Gotta hold on or..." He gripped him tighter, and pure strength seemed to flow into Teren. "You'll get one shot, Ter."
His shoulder stopped bleeding, his body stopped aching, and it wasn't just that. He felt like he could fly, move mountains. Kill anything. This was lifebreathing at its fundamental level. Strength. Stamina. Instinct. Ferocity. "Don't worry, Ronic. I'm right here with you."
The horned hybrid had dropped his cloak in a tree and was already circling back. Teren threw another rock. This one went noticeably faster and farther, although still wasn't even close to hitting his mark.
Ronic groaned. "You unathletic… Grass chewing…"
"Spare me, you ass-"
The eagle made its move, heading right for him. But with the lifebreathing boosting every sense, it was trackable. His eyes followed as it rushed in, and right as it was about to grab him Teren slashed at the neck. It drew blood but wasn't enough to take it down. The creature sunk its talons into Teren's chest and carried him off the ground.
It didn't get far. A roaring Ronic, still covered in blood and bruises, was hanging on to Teren's ankle. His added weight kept the eagle from getting any real altitude, and the bird mooed as it desperately flapped its wings to stay airborne. Yak-Eagle, then. Probably had stronger bones than a bird should.
Life energy surged in his heart, so much so that he couldn't even feel the hybrid's claws inside him. He hacked and swung at the bird repeatedly, but it didn't let go of him.
Ronic screamed in defiance, climbing his way up and over Teren to get his hands around the eagle's neck. He couldn't get his grip around it entirely, but that didn't stop him from squeezing. Teren kept stabbing as well, but his strength was fading away without his friend's focus on him.
The bird went down, sending the three of them careening into the rocky cliffside. They hit hard, knocking the wind out of Teren. He gasped for air as Ronic leg locked the bird and began to pummel it. Every hit let out a series of moos, each growing fainter and fainter. Eventually it was silent as Ronic beat it mercilessly.
Teren coughed out blood. "Ronic… Hey, Ronic! It's dead."
The apprentice looked up. His body was still covered in blood, but from the looks of it he had already healed entirely. "Yeah, I think so. Damn! I thought I was gone for sure when it dropped me."
The masters, Baltry, and Hokdul appeared at the top of the cliff. They were shouting at them to stay put as Farstride and Baltry rushed down to heal them.
Teren's chest was killing him. Must have cracked a rib. "Stupid animal took my cloak."
Ronic rolled off the eagle's carcass. He stared up at the evening sky. "Bummer. Think they got beer at that house?"
…
They did not have beer at the house, but they did have tea. It was laced with ginger and honey, and it soothed Teren's throat. Farstride had carried him back, where she had finished healing his breaks and bruises. Funny how that sort of thing stuck, but she couldn't get his throat and lungs to feel better. He sighed, slumping in his seat. "You think Spellhaunt sent that hybrid?"
"Unlikely," said Rotwood. He sniffed and frowned. Everyone was gathered around the stove in the middle of the main room. And whatever was burning in it smelled suspiciously like shit. "Even if that girl was a mixmaker, there'd be no way for Spellhaunt to access that gift. Beastly Arts don't stick around after death." He rubbed his bald head. "Well, unless, you know…"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Maybe she has someone helping her."
Hokdul shook his head. He still had that floppy hat on indoors. "You all overthink. You are in the wild now. And the wild belongs to beasts. Hybrids run away or kill their mixmakers, this has always been such. There is a great forest in Fendal, is this not the same there?"
Farstride grimaced. "It's not as bad as it gets in Swampreach, but point taken."
"You were fortunate. That hybrid was yak mixed with eagle, maybe the reverse. But these animals are some of the mountain's strongest, and I have seen such hybrids many times the size of that one."
Ronic laughed nervously. "Larger? That beast must have had a wingspan of twenty span!"
The old man chuckled. "On my honor, I have seen them come as wide as forty."
"Can't believe I just ran away," muttered Baltry.
Farstride rustled his hair. "You did good, coming and getting us. And you were the only one who thought to bring a weapon with you."
Rotwood raised his hand. "I brought a weapon."
"Wasn't talking about you. Besides, I meant a weapon that doesn't use the twelve paths."
Teren sipped his tea. The honey and ginger mixed well with the black tea's undertones. "I mean in all fairness, the odds of my deathcrafting being limited like this are pretty small. I've never had need to carry a knife before."
"Evidently not small enough," replied Farstride. "Seeing as how it ended up happening."
He flushed. "Fair."
Rotwood turned to Hokdul. "You wouldn't have anything that we could borrow, would you?"
Hokdul shook his head. "Tools like that are too valuable here. But I have my own rakji, and I am no stranger to the feel of a blade in my grip. You stay close to me, you stay on trail, you stay inside at night, and there will be no danger."
Rotwood glanced at the wooden door, which was now bolted shut. "Stay inside at night because of Spellhaunt, or because of something else?"
"We of the Quia Boralz celebrate the Nine Nights in our own way. Just… Stay inside." He chuckled. "Besides, it gets very cold after dark! Saintlanders from the jungle would not understand."
The sun had to have set already, not that it was easy to tell inside the windowless room. Most of the light came from the stove that warmed them, but there was also a candle flickering in the corner, where the lady of the house smoked her pipe. She was an elderly woman, and she watched them from the shadows with suspicion and distrust written across her wrinkled face.
"She doesn't seem fond of us," whispered Teren.
"Ignore her. I gave her the news of little Yavi's passing, and of what has transpired in Merdz. She is just being cautious."
Rotwood grunted. "Well good on her, letting us stay under her roof anyways. I know plenty who wouldn't extend us the same courtesy."
"Long ago our people came here as outsiders, and now we take care to give others the hospitality Southrangers once gave us." Hokdul smiled. "Not that we get many outsiders. You are first guests to stay in Malay's home since Full Autumn. Which is why no food has been prepared. Much apologies for that."
"None needed!" said Rotwood. "Those, uh, dough balls were quite good." He nudged Teren with his foot, who immediately nodded in agreement.
Hokdul looked happy. "Gezhur. Barley flour and butter, very nutritious! But it is a hiking meal, not a proper dinner. Fear not, word will spread fast of four Saintlanders journeying to Karache Henuat. There will be better fare tomorrow, once we reach Sky's Bazaar."
"You have a bazaar up here?" asked Baltry. "I thought you didn't get many visitors."
"Long ago it was a halfway point between most villages, but over generations it has grown. Now it is the largest village of the Quia Boralz."
Farstride cocked her head. "Don't some of you live in Merdz?"
"When winters become harsh, many of us migrate to the Crater City. But it is not our true home, and those who reside there permanently are only Quia Boralz by blood." He shook his head sadly. "Many are our youth, who choose to exchange this peaceful life for luxuries of the city. In the Rim District they live easy as guards and soldiers, and it is hard to fault them for this choice. But our numbers have always been few, and I fear it will not be long before none remain here, at the top of the world."
"We've got the opposite problem back home," grunted Farstride. "Decidual went from a backwater town to the trading capital of the entire Greenreach and Cicada Islands, thanks to our leygate."
He perked up at the mention of that. "Do Saintlanders know what caused them?"
"Everyone has theories," mused Rotwood. "But no one believable has claimed responsibility."
"It had to have been Guragull," said Ronic as he leaned closer to the oven, setting his clay mug down on top. "From what leys and leygates we've found across the Sainted Lands, it looks like it's some kind of pattern. An eight-pointed star spanning the entire continent. And the center is somewhere in Guragull."
"You don't know that," argued Teren. "There's no reason to assume that the northern leys are the same pattern as the southern ones."
Ronic groaned. "This again? The five leygates in the Sainted Lands, the one in the Goldreach, the three in Merdz, and the one in Tantrov form half a pattern. And the leygates we aren't allowed into are, from what we can decipher, in areas that stick to that pattern. Explain to me why it would make sense that the northern half would be any different?"
Teren threw up his hands. "Because your so-called pattern is made up of eight leys when there should be twelve!"
"Now that's also an assumption," said Rotwood. "We have no reason to believe the ley system correlates exactly to the twelve paths. Despite individual leys being accessed by different paths, the entire system clearly is running off some sort of worldshifting curse."
"There's not enough information," agreed Farstride. "Sorry to disappoint, Hokdul."
Hokdul stroked his beard. "Hmm. I too have heard that the center of the leys lies in Guragull. That is of little surprise if they truly do span all of Kirith. But there is something that troubles me. What reason would Guragull have to make such a system? The only leygates they have lie on the very cusps of their borders."
Baltry frowned. "All the trade between the north and south used to go through Guragull. But now it goes around them."
"Yes," said Hokdul. "The leys have stripped them of much power."
"It is possible they're the victims," said Rotwood. "But a spell like that needs to be maintained, and if it really was coming from the center of their nation then I'm sure they'd have found a way to shut it down by now." He yawned. "Maybe the leys go far, far out into the ocean, and sea people are the ones maintaining it all." He stood up and stretched. "Either way, we have more pressing curses to worry about. I'm off to bed now. You coming, Stride?"
"Go to sleep," growled Farstride. "If you're still up when I come in there, you're gonna get it."
He smirked. "I'm trying to get it."
"Walk away before I find something to throw at you."
"You should all rest," remarked Hokdul. "We must leave at dawn if we would reach Sky's Bazaar before nightfall."
Teren smiled at the elderly woman, who was still watching silently from the shadows. There was an odd weasel-like creature on her lap, with bright yellow fur on its throat. She stopped petting for a moment to wave softly at Teren, and it playfully nipped at her hand. He wondered what sort of life she had lived in the mountains, away from the going one of the wide world around her. Was it a lonely path? A peaceful one?
The apprentices piled into their bedroom. It was cramped, merely three cots side to side with several blankets thrown over them. And it was getting cold, much colder than the nights they had spent in Merdz.
"Guess we'll be sleeping with our clothes on," remarked Ronic. "Hey Baltry, do me a favor and try not to wank off when you're right next to me."
Baltry elbowed him. "Shut up."
"You shut up!" Ronic elbowed him back and they began to scuffle.
Teren sighed, laying down on his cot. "Both of you shut up."
They responded by pummeling him with pillows.