Dead reckoning, p.12
Dead Reckoning, page 12
As for me, I still hadn’t learned how to fight worth a damn, though not for lack of trying. Rindge, my first teacher, had quickly written me off as a lost cause after a few sessions. Belga declared I was never allowed to touch a crossbow again after I almost put a bolt through my foot. A couple of older northerners spent a fortnight trying to teach me to hold a sword, mostly for their own amusement, but their half-hearted lessons didn’t get me anywhere.
Finally, Elenwe volunteered to assist. “The weapon must match the warrior,” she said sagely as she pressed something into my grasp.
“It’s a stick,” I said, looking down at the length of black, gnarled wood the length of my forearm. One tip ended in a wicked knurl that looked like a fist.
“It is a lu’aku—a cudgel, hardened with sap and flame. A blunt force instrument of last resort—not unlike you, Kensey Vardallian,” she said, her eyes glittering.
I couldn’t argue with her logic. “How do I use it?”
She stared at me a moment, clearly trying to determine if I was broken. “You swing it at whatever’s trying to hurt you—hopefully without hitting yourself in the face while you do so.”
I thought back to my lessons with Ognar, and how I’d inherited Grandfather’s tough skull. “Works for me!”
And so, that club was the only weapon I carried with me to the Dalam’s mysterious island, tucked into one of the sheathes normally used to carry the crew’s iconic cutlasses. I wore the boots and navy-blue cloak Nyomi had given me—which Nicolette had finally deigned to return, but still borrowed on occasion—both of which were slightly uncomfortable in the heat but which I knew would be useful against the rigors of the jungle. A satchel slung crosswise across my torso carried a water skin, a few small foodstuffs, and my ancestor’s journal. I’d been hesitant to take it ashore, lest it get lost, but Lagash had insisted I take it in case it was necessary for this first trial.
I rowed. Blue pretended to help, which meant the longboat drifted a bit to starboard. Ulysses stood in the bow, adjusting his coat and hat to make sure he’d appear as dashing as possible. In the stern, Nicolette busied herself organizing her own satchel. I can’t say it was the grandest or most dramatic of entrances, Your Highness, and I’d certainly never imagined that the journey to recover my ancestor’s riches would involve so much mindless drudge work, but we crossed that little stretch of ocean safely and soundly.
As he had for Rindge and Belga, the Dalam man waded out into the tide to pull our vessel up onto shore. Up close, I could see that he’d lived a long, hard life. His olive skin was creased with wrinkles, his close-cropped hair and beard gray and wiry. A nasty scar traced down from his left shoulder to the tip of his elbow. He carried a machete on his back, which I assumed saw more use as a tool for getting through the thick jungle than as an actual weapon. He’d slathered himself with something that made him look rather sticky. Though his smile was yellow and missing a few teeth, it wasn’t lacking in warmth.
“Welcome!” he said in our own tongue as he took hold of the prow, shocking us all. “Welcome to Penina!”
“I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to speak at all,” Blue muttered.
The boat slid easily up onto the white sand. Rindge tied it off to a stake he’d driven into the beach. As we clambered out, I kept an eye on the jungle. Grandfather had taught me to be very careful near such dark, seemingly impenetrable clusters of foliage, as the dangers lurking within were often very well-equipped for bursting through the vegetation. Old habits died hard.
Ulysses, meanwhile, worked his charm on the Dalam. “Greetings and salutations, friend! We appreciate the warm welcome. What may we call you, sir?”
The man pressed a fist to his chest and smiled even wider. “I am Timah of the Elei’i clan. It is a pleasure to meet you and your friends. May I have your names, please?”
As we introduced ourselves, I noticed a rather peculiar scent—and judging from the look on Blue’s face, the marii had too. It came from Timah, but it wasn’t like any body odor I’d ever encountered. It smelled herbal, and perhaps as if it had been fermented, like some of the tinctures Grandfather had taught me to make back home.
“It is wonderful to meet you all!” Timah declared. “We do not get many visitors. I am out of practice, and I hope my words are correct!”
“Your words are perfect, sir,” Ulysses replied. “I am to take it that this island belongs to your clan?”
Timah considered this for a moment, tapping his chin with his fingers one at a time. “Penina does not belong to us, no! It is our friend, our companion, our…provider! We live with it, and it with us.”
“Definitely lives in a tree,” Blue growled under his breath.
“Ah!” Ulysses said dramatically, as if the solution to some great mystery had just materialized in his head. “Well, you still sound like just the sort of people we need to talk to! We seek something rather important, and whereas you and the rest of the Elei’i know this land best…I believe there is a mutually beneficial arrangement to be found!”
Timah nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes! We all must work together, for the betterment of all! My pangiru will speak with you. I will take you to him.” He paused and raised an open palm. “But first…”
He stepped to the edge of the jungle, approaching a thick tree trimmed with spiked leaves that reminded me of an aloe plant. Reaching down into its tangle of bulbous roots, he withdrew a little clay pot.
“We call this k’lama. It is a salve made of many local ingredients. Keeps the makane away.” He unscrewed the pot’s lid so we could see the brownish goo inside. “And it smells like heaven!”
It smelled like whatever was covering Timah. As the rest of us exchanged anxious looks, Blue lost the ability to contain himself. “I don’t know what rutting heaven you believe in, pal, but you will keep that garbage away from me.”
This left Timah perplexed, but not—to my relief—insulted. “You will want it. There are many makane in the jungle.”
“I want it as much as I want a fork in my eye,” the marii huffed.
“What’s a makane?” Nicolette asked politely.
Timah thought about this for a few moments, then shrugged. “I don’t have a strong enough word.” He spread his fingers out in front of his face and wriggled them while chomping his teeth together toward Tehenessey Blue.
“Stop that,” the marii huffed. “It reminds me too much of someone Ulysses used to date.”
“Blue’s fur is tougher than it looks,” the first mate said.
“But the rest of us would be honored to take some,” Nicolette added. She rolled up her sleeves and then dipped a hand into the pot to scoop out a gob of k’lama. “We appreciate your help, Timah.”
Though her smile didn’t fade, her nostrils certainly flared as she rubbed the strange concoction on her arms. It worked itself into her skin quickly, leaving behind just enough of a sticky residue to make clear she’d applied something.
Timah raised the pot toward her again. “Don’t forget your face! The makane like face meat!”
“Of course they do,” Blue muttered, stomping away to kick at the sand closer to the tide.
Nicolette, always the bravest of us, rubbed the k’lama onto her neck and face, carefully avoiding her eyes. And then she insisted the rest of us follow suit. Belga and Blue were spared—she because her next task would be returning the longboats to the Black Yonnix, and the marii because agreeing he could go without the k’lama shut him up.
I worked the stuff into my exposed skin, even the parts covered by my cloak. It didn’t feel terrible; it was slightly warm to the touch, and it spread easily despite how sticky it looked. The smell initially hit me like a slap to the face. It faded quickly, but not entirely, as my nose got used to it.
Davanon was the last to apply the salve. No one had told me the mah’saiid engineer would be coming with us. “There are things I need for the ship that I could use some assistance locating,” he explained in response to my questioning look.
Timah returned the pot to its hiding spot among the tree roots. “There is k’lama under many of the maliko trees,” he said, carefully stroking one of the tree’s spiky leaves. “For the good of all who might need it.”
“Thank you, Timah,” Nicolette said. “We appreciate the lesson.”
By the water, Blue hissed in annoyance.
“Follow me, then,” Timah said, turning toward the jungle. “I will take you to my clan’s home, and to our pangiru. All will be glad to see you!”
“I’ll bring up the rear,” Blue declared. “Don’t mind me. You all smell like Brennik’s Reach.”
I ignored my friend’s jibe and fell into step with the others behind Timah, who slipped around a man-sized frond and into the jungle. Ulysses and Davanon entered next, then Nicolette and I followed, then Rindge. We were a good twenty paces into the jungle before I heard Blue curse his way around that first plant.
Our guide had led us straight to a game trail wide enough for us to walk two abreast. The vegetation on either side showed signs of having been hacked away with a heavy blade like the one strapped to Timah’s back. The trees here were much taller and thinner than those I’d known back home, and the leaves at the top of the canopy were speckled with holes that allowed more than enough light to filter down to the forest floor. The smell of damp earth filled my nostrils, and beads of sweat soon covered my skin in the blanket-like humidity. I slipped out of my cloak and tossed it over my shoulder, glad I’d thought to slather my arms with k’lama.
Ahead, Ulysses regaled Timah with some likely made-up tale of a prior battle with the shuen. Davanon hovered beside the first mate, carefully considering the surrounding flora. I recognized a few species, but most of it was foreign to me. That jungle was very beautiful; once we’d penetrated its thick shell, the plant-life inside was delicate and colorful. The creaks and chirps of what must have been billions of insects provided a musical accompaniment to our steps.
“Thanks for smoothing the way back there,” I said to Nicolette.
She nodded. “Uncle Antoine was obsessed about opening a trade route to the Kleas, so I’ve heard a little about the people that live here. They are helpful and polite to a fault, and they appreciate the same in return.”
“I can see where that might prove troublesome for your uncle,” I replied.
She laughed heartily, briefly drawing Davanon’s attention before he was once again distracted by a purple vine with bright pink blossoms. “He is a man with many big dreams—too many, perhaps, and frustrated that he lacked the resources to accomplish them all.”
I thought of Rocher, the pig who had murdered my grandfather in Count L’Vaillee’s name. “Some men can have it all and still want more.”
She looked down at the trail, her face tight. “I hope such things cannot be said of us at the end of our journey.”
I felt like I should have had something more profound to say, but I didn’t. “Me t—”
An ear-splitting shriek from back the way we came cut off my poor attempt to match Nicolette’s philosophy. We stopped and spun around, the crossbow appearing in Nicolette’s hand as if it had teleported there. Rindge knelt before us, blades drawn. And beyond him…
“Get it off! Get it off!”
The ugliest insect I’d ever seen was perched on Tehenessey Blue’s shoulder, gripping his flesh with what looked like dozens of pincer-like pairs of legs. Its body was built like a dragonfly’s, except its long abdomen wriggled like a prehensile tail. It lacked wings, so it must have pounced on its target from somewhere high up in the canopy—which, I decided later, was rather impressive targeting. Four bulbous red eyes surrounded a square maw from which it jabbed a toothy proboscis toward the marii’s face. The whole insect was about as long as Blue was tall, and its dark blue skin rippled with pinkish, gill-like organs that seemed to sample the air.
“Rindge, stay down,” Nicolette said as she sighted down her crossbow. “Blue, don’t move.”
The marii shrieked again as the insect’s horrible mouth tried to take a chunk out of his cheek. “Easy for you to say!”
Nicolette took a breath, held it, and pulled the trigger. Her bolt flew true, striking the insect right in the thorax and knocking it from Blue’s shoulder. The marii rounded on the thing and stomped on it violently, cursing up a storm.
“Makane!” Timah said, laughing. “I told you!”
— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN —
Timah cackled gleefully all the way to the next maliko tree a few hundred paces down the game trail. The rest of us couldn’t help joining in from time to time, despite Tehenessey Blue’s growls of displeasure.
“Like any of you lot would’ve reacted any differently,” he snarled from underneath my cloak, which he’d insisted on wrapping himself in. “Do you understand now why I hate the wilderness?”
“Oh, I understood it the moment we met,” I joked.
“Clearly the wilderness thinks you are very tasty,” Ulysses added.
“And an easy target,” Nicolette continued.
“You’re all just jealous that I am naturally very attractive,” the marii snapped, flinching away from a winged bug that flitted too close to his snout.
“It is true that many predators hunt the marii,” Davanon said thoughtfully. “What is it like to be a prey species?”
Blue grunted in a way that sounded like a bark. “What is it like to be the most insufferably arrogant species on the continent?”
Timah bent double and slapped his knee, hooting in amusement. “Oh, you all are so wonderful!” he crowed.
Working the k’lama through Blue’s fur and onto his skin was borderline impossible. I understood why he’d turned his nose up at the stuff—it left him looking like he’d been pulled out of another quickmoss pit.
“Don’t,” Blue snapped when he saw Ulysses begin to open his mouth to tell a joke. “If you say one word about this, I will gut you in your sleep.”
We decided we’d had enough fun with the poor guy, who was clearly miserable underneath all that cloying insect repellant. I wasn’t thrilled that he’d chosen to put my cloak over his sticky fur, but I knew that was a battle I would never win.
Not much farther in, the game trail took a sharp right turn, wrapping around a ledge of dark gray rock speckled with crimson moss and a bright blue vine. The colors here were unbelievable, and I hoped I’d get to see them all during Diuntyne, when the huge moon’s silver light makes everything all the more beautiful and ethereal. I’d always enjoyed walking the jungles by my home during that time of day. Yes, Your Highness, I suppose that little trek did make me a bit homesick.
Timah noticed Davanon studying those blue vines. “Do not touch. You will itch. Forever.” We all kept our distance from that ledge, walking single file to give those plants the space they clearly desired.
The trail led us up a slight incline, keeping the rock to our left. Eventually it met the top of the ledge and doubled back along the small cliff. I wondered briefly why the Elei’i people hadn’t carved a staircase or built a ladder to make the journey quicker. The amount I didn’t know about the people living right on top of Lucifus’s first trial started to feel concerning. I thought back to what I’d read, both in the regular text and the magical, desperately searching for some clue or reference that might help. None came to mind.
Soon we passed the point where the game trail met the cliff face, continuing onward. Timah pointed down at the section of jungle below us. Here, the trunks of the familiar trees were choked by a tangle of vines covered with thick black spikes the size of a shark tooth.
“Do not fall,” Timah said. “This land does not welcome visitors.”
Blue muttered something unintelligible, then barged forward between Nicolette and me. “So, Timah, why exactly do your people live here? You’ve got plants with teeth. Walls that make you itch to death. Bugs the size of small dogs that fall from the sky unless you cover yourself with nasty tar that reeks like spoiled vegetables. It’s humid, it’s hot, and I’m pretty sure there’s a fungus trying to grow in between my toes. You know there are easier places to set up shop, right?”
The old man turned, clearly sizing up the marii and thinking carefully about his question. “We like it here,” he finally said.
I thought Blue’s head was going to explode. “What, exactly, is there to like?”
At this, Timah didn’t hesitate. “Penina is good to us because we have been good to it.”
The pair watched each other, but it’s not fair to describe that moment as “sharing a look” or with any other phrase that suggests some sort of understanding. Rather, it was more like they misunderstood what the other was attempting to communicate so thoroughly that they may as well have been speaking unrelated languages from different corners of the world. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Blue has yet to meet a land that agrees with him,” Ulysses said, taking Timah lightly by the elbow to turn him back toward our destination. “Someday, perhaps, he will find such a place.”
Timah led us forward again, though he clearly continued to think about this. “So the marii has no home?” he asked a few steps later. “That is sad.”
“Do not worry, friend,” Ulysses replied, patting the man on the back. “We will find him one. Someday.”
If Blue responded to either statement, he didn’t do so in a way I could see or hear.
Our path continued upward, wrapping gently around what I soon realized was a gentle hill. At the top, a pair of young boys in hide kilts like Timah’s spotted us, waved, and then rushed on ahead, out of sight over the rise.
“They will tell the others!” Timah said happily. “You will meet so many new friends on this day!”
Blue stumbled but did not say anything rude that I could make out.
We crested the rise, and there was the village. Built at the very top of the hill, Timah’s home consisted of a little more than a dozen yurts built around a tall wooden idol at the center. The view was amazing; the island’s jungle spread out all around us, and the mainland looked so close that swimming to it seemed reasonable. We all looked back toward the Black Yonnix, which we could clearly spot anchored right where we’d left her. It was reassuring to know that we’d still be able to see the ship from that vantage point even after she rounded the island.
