Breakfast was honey ginger tea and potato pancakes filled with cheese. Teren took a small bite of one and his eyes widened. "What the…"
"Something wrong?" asked Hokdul.
Teren shook his head as he took a bigger bite and swallowed. "Whatever cheese you have in here is spectacular. I don't think I've ever had cheese this good in my life."
Hokdul laughed. "Surely this cannot be. It is not even mixmade, just simple yak milkbutter. Boiled, hung, then fermented. Sometimes we dry it out farther and make a terribly hard cheese, for dogs to chew on."
"Well if I was an animal I'd definitely want to chew on something like this." He finished his off quickly. "So you do have dogs here. Think I heard some last night."
"Lots of wild ones around here. But they are harmless."
Rotwood tried one. "Tastes normal to me. Not that it isn't good."
Everyone was gathered around in the main room aside from Farstride, who was still in her room taking care of lady stuff.
Hokdul sipped his tea. It was milky white, not the same as the honey ginger they were having. He had said the ginger would help them adjust to the mountain air, along with something else in the tea he called roseroot. "I've been communing with my familiar in Merdz. The Crater City is… Not doing well."
Ronic grunted. "I thought maybe something might have changed once Teren left the area."
"It does not seem so. The dead celebrated all night long. Worse, some of them have started to inhabit corpses."
Rotwood glared at Teren.
Teren shrank in his seat. "Oops."
"At least it gives the Queen an enemy to fight though," said Baltry. "Maybe it makes it feel like they're making progress, rather than waving weapons at spirits they can't actually touch."
Ronic scoffed. "But taking care of the bodies wouldn't do much, as the spirits just find new ones. So you're basically just desecrating corpses for no reason."
Baltry sipped his tea. "Just trying to find an upside."
Farstride barged in, her face pale. She walked right past the men and went outside.
Ronic and Baltry glanced at each other.
Rotwood cleared his throat. "Outhouse. Your master caught a bit of a bug, it seems. She was in and out all night as well. Hasn't figured out a way to lifebreathe it away yet."
"Today will be a long hike," said Hokdul. "But we should arrive before dark. Maybe I can find something to help her in the Bazaar."
Ronic smiled. "Knowing her she'll have figured out a cure for it herself by lunch."
…
The path followed the river and stayed relatively flat, at some points even descending. It was a sunny day and there wasn't much wind that got past the pines, leaving him feeling warm enough to not mind having lost his cloak yesterday. And although they didn't see any more farms or houses, the trail was busier than Teren would have imagined. Barely an hour into the hike locals started to pass them. Not coming downtrail from the bazaar, but from behind.
Teren tried to quiet his gasping as an elderly man leading a dozen pack animals passed him. He pretended to stop and adjust his sandals as a young girl ran past laughing, chased by a squawking rooster. He shook his head ruefully as he waited for his heart to stop pounding. These mountain folk were strong. Ridiculously so.
His guide waited for him up ahead. "You are not doing so bad, for one who lives in flatlands."
Teren squatted down, breathing deep. "Fendal isn't flatland. It's pretty hilly in the middle of the Greenreach."
Hokdul smiled. "Flatter lands."
He looked at the churning river far below and the mountain peaks far away. "I can't argue with that."
"I can carry your pack. It is of no trouble."
"I can carry my own weight!" he said quickly, "Rotwood's behind me anyways, maybe you should take his." And without another word he pushed forward, refusing to be the weakest link. He had already caused far too much trouble to bear that shame as well.
Ronic and Baltry waited at a bridge. They didn't look happy, and Teren understood why. It was a suspension bridge, made of thick ropes and wooden planks, with its rope guardrails woven like nets on each side. It was very long, and very high up in the air.
"Please tell me we took a wrong turn somewhere," grumbled Rotwood from behind him. He must have been using Scavenger's Delight to keep a good pace, but the quality was always hit or miss out in the woods, away from a large population. Back in Merdz he might have been able to use it to keep up with the lifebreathers, even if they chose to kick up the pace.
"What do you mean?" asked Hokdul.
Farstride walked out of the woods looking sick. "He means that bridge looks like an accident waiting to happen."
Hokdul threw back his head and laughed. "This bridge has weathered many animals heavier than you, woman. Just do not all go at once, and there will be no problem."
They crossed one at a time, Teren going last. Admittedly the view was great in the middle, with the river crashing through the boulder-filled gorge separating two sides of endless pines. Far out ahead he could spot several other suspension bridges dotted with traffic, people leading yaks and small horses covered in baggage. Well if it could hold them then it couldn't be that much of a problem. He hurried on.
Eventually their little group spread out significantly, with the other apprentices in the front, Rotwood and Farstride in the middle, and Teren not too far behind. Hokdul would wait for Teren and make sure he was doing alright before heading up to check on everyone else. Then he'd slow his pace significantly or stop altogether for a smoke while waiting for Teren.
The path got steeper and had them cross several more bridges. He didn't get why the trail couldn't stay on one side, and maybe a bell or two after high noon they had crossed four altogether, ending up back on the original western side of the river. Now the river was hundreds of spans below them, and the trail shot into the woods to take its own direction.
Hokdul stopped them there for lunch, where they sat down to gezhur balls and a few leftover potato pancakes. Teren's waterskin was doing much better than yesterday, a little under half full. The group chatted with each other here and there, but mostly they caught their breath and watched the Quia Boralz pass on by. They didn't speak to them, but they did smile and stare. Especially at Farstride, who made a point of leering back at all the men.
"Sorry for that," said Rotwood. "They're probably just blown away by the maturity of Fendali beauty."
"Whatever. I'm sure the women are looking at your bald head too. We're just more subtle about it."
"Not bald," corrected Rotwood. "Shaven. Shaving is a choice, and ladies love it."
"The easy part of the day is over," said Hokdul. He sat cross-legged on a rock, smoking his long pipe. "Now the path gets steep and narrow. Sky's Bazaar is at the top of this hill. Take it slow, we are making okay speed. And watch out for the animals coming down."
When he had said it got steep, he meant it. The trail twisted and turned as it led up the hill and into the dark of the woods. Teren thanked the Saints that the traffic had picked up, as the sheer amount of pack animals coming down that they had to stop and wait for was the only thing that kept air in his lungs.
His legs hurt. His chest ached. His mouth was dry. Teren gritted his teeth. Rotwood was now outpacing him thanks to Scavenger's Delight. This damn lock in his deathcrafting was too much! He adjusted his pack and kept on climbing.
Hokdul's checkups got fewer and fewer. The pines obscured the sun, and Teren could only guess what time it was. Surely it must have been nearly sunset, surely that meant they were almost done! But at the top of every crest the path kept on going higher. "Didn't he call this a hill?" he muttered to himself.
There was a girl coming up from behind him. She was around his age, despite looking half wild. Her long black hair was a mess that went down to her waist, barely held in check by a ponytail. Her fashion was similar to the rest of the people here, yak wool and tattered red cloth wrapped around her waist like some sort of barbarian's skirt and shawl. Yet the dress wasn't long enough to impede her hiking, and Teren caught more than one flash of a pale thigh peaking through as she went on by. He did his best not to stare.
But at the next turn in the trail he found her waiting. Teren quieted his breathing as he passed, flashing a smile at her awkwardly.
Her blue eyes met his. She said something in the slow drawl that was borales. When Teren didn't answer she pursed her lips, pointing to herself and then to him.
Did she..? No, couldn't be. Teren shrugged and pointed up the trail. "Uh, Sky's Bazaar? Karache Henuat Monastery?"
She nodded in understanding. "Karache Henuat." She pointed in the same direction, snapping her fingers.
"I have no idea what that means, but I'm going to keep walking now."
The girl wouldn't leave him alone. She walked by his side, and usually Teren wouldn't have minded that one bit. Yet he was panting and exhausted while she was doing just fine. What sort of man couldn't outpace a woman in a skirt? Maybe she was a skinswitcher. Unnatural stamina, that had to be it.
Not much later he had to take another break. He sat on a fallen tree panting and threw his pack to the ground. He grabbed his waterskin and finished it off right there. It was a bad idea, but he just couldn't help himself.
The girl sat down next to him, staring intently.
Teren stared back. "Hi."
She pointed at him. "Malahaz."
He pointed at himself, jabbing the finger repeatedly into his chest. "Teren."
The girl patted her chest. "Belhein."
"Belhein," Teren repeated. "Ah, do you know Hokdul?"
Her eyes widened in recognition. "Hokdul!" Belhein pointed up the trail again and said something in borales.
Teren shrugged and nodded, pointing uptrail. "Hokdul."
Belhein grabbed Teren's pack and slung it over her own. When Teren protested and made a grab for it she shook her head and started on up the path.
Teren cursed, running after her. He tried getting the pack back, but whenever he tried she would just laugh and quicken her pace. Eventually he got the point and begrudgingly allowed her to carry it.
Hokdul was waiting up ahead. When he saw the girl a smile lit up his face, and when she saw him she laughed and ran to give him a big hug. Father and daughter, maybe? She had that same pale skin, but his hair was that greying red compared to her messy black.
They talked to each other while Teren panted and caught his breath. Belhein's expression darkened as the conversation continued.
Hokdul turned to Teren. "Teren, this is Belhein. She's agreed to accompany us to the monastery."
"Oh, wow. Erm, what for?"
"If she carries your pack and I carry your Master's, we will make better speed."
He looked at the sky. "As it stands, you are going a bit too slow."
Teren groaned "Seriously? How far ahead is everyone else?"
"Not that far. Even so, you are getting tired out. Besides, your associate Kanibrir in Merdz will compensate her well for her service." He yelled something at Belhein and she rubbed three fingers together smugly at Teren in response.
"It is what it is, I guess. Can you tell her I'm sorry she has to carry my things?"
Hokdul translated. "She says you'll have to make it up to her by telling her about the Sainted Lands." He smiled. "She'd always been a curious girl."
Teren started walking. "She your daughter?"
"Niece."
Belhein followed him, looking quite happy to be there.
…
A few bells later they came to a wooden post on the trail where the trail split. The rest of the group was waiting for them. Ronic had actually stepped off trail and was dozing off under a pine tree.
Farstride threw a pinecone at his head. "Up and at 'em." She glanced at Belhein and smiled. "Made a friend, Teren?"
"This is Belhein, Hokdul's niece. She's gonna help us out to the top, carry my stuff."
Ronic eyed her over. "Lucky you." He stood up and bowed gracefully.
Belhein waved at all of them, a big grin plastered on her face. She said something in borales, and then her expression got serious.
"She's delighted to meet all of you," said Hokdul. "And she swears to help find the person responsible for the murder of Yavi."
"Charmed," said Rotwood. He looked almost as tired as Teren felt. "Now which trail do we take?"
They hiked the rest of the way as a group, since Hokdul said it wasn't terribly far now. The hill began to level off, and soon they left the forest for more terraced farmland along with a scattering of small houses. The sun was getting very low in the sky by the time they turned around the last bend and saw it.
Sky's Bazaar was a town built right on the side of a cliff. It was an arc shape that radiated out in terraced layers going up the hill, like a massive amphitheater. The bottom and center of the amphitheater-town was the plaza where the group had now found themselves, and it was teaming with carts and cattle.
There were more people here than they had seen all day, and even this late in the evening the Bazaar was lively. Children ran amok wearing masks to celebrate the nine nights as adults watched them closely from the porches of tea shops. A goat-faced skinswitcher was in the middle of the plaza building a large bonfire with the help of a few other men. He stopped what he was doing and stared when he saw the Saintlanders.
Baltry whistled. "This place is bigger than most towns in the islands. Didn't expect that all the way up here."
"Will sainted pieces work?" asked Teren. "Might want to get myself some supplies."
Farstride raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Teren shivered. "I need a new cloak. And maybe a beer."
"No beer!" said Hokdul sharply. "Mountain sickness is like being drunk. You get drunk for real, we might not spot symptoms in time. Besides, we are not done."
"Not done?" asked Rotwood.
Hokdul nodded up to the outskirts of the Bazaar. "Our lodging is near the top. Half a bell more, if we make good time."
Teren groaned. He was genuinely annoyed now, thinking that they were done for the day just to have to get back up and keep on going. And it looked steep too.
Belhein smiled and offered him some of her water. Teren shook his head and stood up.
"What's the matter?" asked Rotwood. "Thought you already drank all yours."
"That's my problem. I didn't pace myself, so why should I get to take someone else's?"
"How about because we're on a schedule, she's used to the mountains, and you're slowing us down?" suggested Farstride.
Teren bit back a response. It wasn't a very mature one anyways.
The buildings here were close together, similar in style to the houses along the trail, but with more luxury, some even being two stories. Many also seemed to double as storefronts, and as the sun was getting low men and women were packing their goods up. While it wasn't anything like the market in Merdz, it was still impressive enough for such an isolated spot. There was tea and barley and a smattering of vegetables for sale, along with toys and tools carved from bone. Teren eyed some of the clothing that he passed. He spotted a sheepskin longcoat with the wool on the inside. "Hey Hokdul, I'll be a moment."
Hokdul glanced at the setting sun. "I will translate. We need to hurry, Teren."
The storekeeper was closing up her shop. She was a skinswitcher and the definition of a fish out of water. Her skinswitch was some sort of tropical fish, with gorgeous blue and orange scales running up her neck and cheeks.
Teren smiled at her and pointed at the dark-colored sheepskin longcoat. "Very nice. How much?"
Hokdul listened to her. "She would take a piece and five slivers, but she is saying such only because she is flattered an outsider appreciates her handiwork. It is worth more than that, maybe a piece and seven."
Teren fished three pieces out of his pocket and set them down on the table as he picked up the cloak. "Tell her I couldn't possibly pay any less for such fine stitching."
The woman stared at the pieces in shock.
Hokdul smiled as he translated. "That was a nice thing to do. Now hurry."
Teren pulled his arms through the sleeves. Bit tight around the shoulders, but not bad. Not bad at all. "I didn't do it to be nice. Just can't have people thinking I'd pay for a cheap product, is all."
The shorter man snorted. "Come on. Can't be outside after dark."
"Even in the middle of town?"
"Especially in the middle of town." A shadow of emotion flickered across his bearded face. Concern? Hesitation? Fear?
Whatever it was, it was enough to get Teren moving.
It was easy to see where Sky's Bazaar got the name from, looking behind him. There were clouds below the cliffside the town was built on. And far out beyond the dropoff, massive mountain peaks that had been obscured when hiking along the river. Trees gave way halfway up them, replaced by grey stone and glacial ice fields, a jagged contrast with the golden sunset beyond.
As daylight grew scarce the town came alive. Lanterns were lit by people wearing deathmasks. They loitered about outside their houses, as if waiting for dusk to fall. One man lounging on the steps of the main street had his wooden mask off. He stared out into space, with one hand trembling noticeably. His eyes widened as he saw the Saintlanders, and without a word he stood up and disappeared around a corner.
Belhein called after him, sounding worried. She glanced at Hokdul, worried.
"Almost there," Hokdul muttered.
The sun was disappearing below the mountains. Drums began to beat down below in the plaza. Teren looked back and saw the center of the Bazaar dotted with torchlight.
An old woman dressed in nothing but a mask was standing in a doorway watching them silently.
"What the hell?" said Ronic.
Hokdul cursed. "Sun is almost gone. We must run for it." And then he took off.
The Saintlanders ran after him, with Farstride and Ronic hanging on the shoulder of each of the deathcrafters, charging them with enough stamina to keep on running.
An inhuman howl ripped through the twilight, a cross between a shriek and a hiss. And it sounded close. Incredibly close.
Hokdul reached a house that looked no different than any other aside from one simple difference– there was a string of dried chile peppers hanging on the door. He began to bang on it, speaking urgently in borales.
"They going to let us in?" growled Farstride.
He kept on banging. "I hope so. If not, we're going to have to fight."
It sounded like half the village was closing in on them. Torches bobbed in the distance, getting closer. Rotwood pulled his wand out of his coat. Baltry gripped his Rakji blade. Farstride and Ronic took their stances. Teren tried to mimic theirs, and when Belhein saw his pitiful attempt she put herself in front of him. Dammit!
There was a man approaching, in the center of an oncoming crowd. He towered over the rest of them, with that brownish-red skin common in the Greenreach. His deathmask was carved out of bone, a simplistic facemask with two round holes for eyes and three at the mouth. Large yak horns were turned downwards like tusks sprouting out of his head. There was a large rattlesnake curled around his neck and shoulders, still alive from the looks of it. And he carried with him a wicked-looking halberd, with a curved axeblade and a pronged speartip.
And if that wasn't bad enough, every masked villager with him had a torch in hand as well.
Suddenly the door unlatched and they spilled inside. Hokdul slammed the door shut behind them, thanking the fellow who had let them in– a weathered-looking man with a nasty scar across his face.
"One door isn't going to hold that crowd," muttered Ronic.
"It's alright," assured Hokdul. "Tradition protects us. We are inside, with the fruit of the merur on the door. They cannot force an entry." But his voice wavered a bit.
Teren began to wonder if the windowless designs on all the buildings served a purpose. Something was very wrong with this place.
Torchlight shone under the bottom of the door. And then there came a gentle knock on the wood.
Everyone went dead silent.
A pause, and then another knock. "Fendali," a voice said softly. "I can smell you."
Rotwood and Farstride looked at each other. Then Rotwood stepped close to the door. "Evening. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
The man on the other side of the door sighed. "Evening it is, although just barely. Almost had you, you know. But you've been accepted under the roof of a Quia Boralz, and as such you will live to see the morning. I hold a lot of sway in these mountains, especially during these holiest of nights. But they're still so obtuse about their hospitality practices."
"Hmm. Well, it sort of seems like those practices just stopped me from having to summon a horde of the dead to beat you and everyone else in that mob to death. Maybe they exist for good reason?"
"Aahhh, a Gravecaller. Lovely. You are responsible for the dead thing wearing a girl's skin, then?"
Teren's eyes widened.
"Not me. But I am tracking that corpse, if you know where it went."
The voice laughed softly. "The girl was spotted earlier today, heading up the road leading west. Word travels fast in the mountains, but alas! Not fast enough. We did not know what it was until it had already departed our esteemed Bazaar."
Hokdul stepped forward. "Snakebiter."
"Old Redblade! You haven't been to the Bazaar in quite some time. Not fond of what I've done with the place?"
"That dead girl is headed for Karache Henuat, she must have taken a wrong turn. Send your people out. Watch for her when she comes back, for all our sakes. She is a danger to all of us."
"I'll say, seeing what she's done to Merdz. Or do you plan on telling me the dead girl isn't connected to the dead city?"
"Watch for her, Snakebiter. Please."
"I see no reason not to. Maybe I find her before you, get her to show me some nasty deathcrafting tricks."
"Or you could give her to me," Rotwood suggested. "Rest assured that I'll find a way to compensate you."
"Ha! The only compensation I'll take from you is your Fendali head on top of my stormsplitter."
"Stormsplitter…" murmured Rotwood softly. "I thought that weapon looked familiar." He raised his voice. "Tell me, what's a Swampreacher doing in the middle of the Southrange?"
"Mountain air agrees with me. And I always wanted a little part of Kirith to call my own."
Farstride took a turn. "Snakebiter, was it? Do you plan on trying to kill us as soon as we step outside?"
"My my, is that a fendali whore I hear? It's been too long. Well, no. Rules during the nine nights change around here, but even these fine folk aren't civilized enough to allow me to tear your head from your body. In broad daylight, at least."
"But if we come out at night it's a different story."
"Nothing gets past you, does it?"
"Well we aren't planning on stepping outside. So you gonna stand out there all night with your dick in your hands, or are you going to jog off and let me get some sleep?"
Snakebiter was silent for a moment. "I'm going to enjoy having you, woman. Goodnight, Fendali. Goodnight, old Redblade." And then there was the sound of many footsteps walking away. Torchlight faded from underneath the door.
"Damn," said Baltry.
…
They sat around the stove eating dinner in silence. The scarred man hadn't said much, but he had prepared an excellent meal for them. Boralz Stew, Hokdul called it. Carrots, radishes, and potatoes in a broth along with thick, hand-pulled dough strips. The broth was thickened with something and had a strong garlic taste to it. It was precisely what Teren needed, and he sighed contently.
Nobody else seemed to share his good mood, aside from the new girl. She sat next to him, looking quite smug as Teren cleaned his bowl. Belhein winked at him and rubbed her stomach. He nodded back and smiled.
Farstride had hardly touched her bowl. She seemed to have gotten over whatever bug she had before but probably didn't want to risk it. Especially with the outhouse outside. "A mob led by a Swampreacher just tried to tear us apart. Feels like context is required."
Hokdul cleared his throat. "Even in small communities such as this, there are problems. Many summers ago, a terrible hybrid plagued our land. Nothing could stand against it. Snakebiter was a part of a mercenary group we hired. After they killed the beast, he decided to stay around and take on the role of protector."
Ronic frowned. "How does hired muscle make his way to the front of a mob?"
"That javelin of his, stormsplitter. It is soulforged. This is a powerful omen to my people."
Rotwood pursed her lips. "You said you recognized it, Rot?"
"Yeah. I told you all before about how I got my title fighting the Talenon clans in Swampreach? Well the Gravemask who worked with my master carried that thing around. It's powerful, even for something soulforged. Didn't get a good look at the abilities, but I think it had two gifts. Some kind of insect skinswitching. Carapace, strength, you know the drill. And also mixmaking."
Hokdul set his bowl down. "It is a horned beetle. And his natural gift is beastbonding, with his familiar being that snake. If he has to, he will sever the beastbond with it and then use the javelin to mixmake it.
"All three common gifts," Farstride grumbled. "Bothersome."
"It doesn't help that he is an annoying mix of cunning, bold, and crazy. Many have fallen sway to his influence, and during the Nine Nights of the Lost it gets worse. He has brought foul Swampreacher customs with him."
Rotwood sighed. "They're not all like him. Swampreachers are a misunderstood people."
"No they aren't," said Farstride. "They have sex with alligators."
"Myth. They just wrestle with them."
"Think that he'll help us find Spellhaunt?" asked Baltry.
"Hard to say," said Hokdul, stroking his beard. "But I think we should go to the village she went to, see if she's there. Maybe even catch her on the way back. Also, it would be good for you to acclimate."
"Acclimate to what?" asked Ronic.
"The mountain air. If you hike up then hike down, you will adjust easier to the journey to the monastery the day after. It will be very short to the village, less than half a day there and back."
Rotwood nodded. "Sounds good."
"Agreed," said Farstride. "Besides, I'd rather spend all day hiking than cooped up in this psychotic little town waiting for that corpse to come crawling back."
The thought of hiking up and back down seemed like a waste to Teren. "Maybe I'll stay here in town, in case you all happen to miss her."
Rotwood considered that. "Splitting up and having someone watch the road to the monastery might not be a bad idea. But no, Teren. If a small hike will keep us healthy then you and I are doing it. Although maybe Farstride and Baltry should stay here and keep an eye out. We can take Ronic in case we need lifebreathing."
"Good plan," said Hokdul. He began relaying all that had been said to Belhein, who seemed a bit miffed to have been left out.
"I suppose," sighed Farstride. But if that Swampshitter tries anything I'm gonna rip his tongue off.
"I really think it would be smart to keep a deathcrafter in town," said Teren desperately.
"What for?" laughed Ronic. "With that curse draining you, you can't do much anyways."
He sighed, grabbing himself another helping of stew from off the stove.