2
Blend
HARNOCK SENT TALEN to fill the waterskins while he and River filled three packs with food and supplies. As Talen pulled the water up from the well, he tried repeatedly to reach his Fire, but it still wouldn’t respond. By the time he returned to the front of the house with the waterskins, he was worried the collar had done some real damage.
Inside the house, Harnock slipped a small dark wooden box into his pack. The box was carved on the outside and weathered, but from the care with which Harnock handled it, Talen suspected it held weaves. Maybe even the Book itself.
“Don’t just stand there and gawp,” Harnock said. “Get in here and arm yourself.”
Talen walked under the bones hanging from the eaves into a room that was as tidy as any he’s seen in any Koramite dwelling. There was a hearth and table and a bit of lace on top of it. The floor was made of planks of wood, and every square foot of it was clean. Tools hung on neat pegs on one wall. A cloth embroidered with an intricate design and cluster of red flowers hung on another. Off the main room lay a bedroom with a normal rope and tick bed that was all made up. A bearskin blanket was rolled up at the foot of it. For some reason, he’d expected a hovel, something to go along with the bones hanging about outside.
Harnock pointed at the wall behind Talen where a number of fine bowstaves lay across wooden pegs. “I’m assuming your father taught you how to shoot?” Harnock asked.
“Yes,” said Talen.
“I’m sure he also taught you how to follow orders. We’re going into dangerous territory, and I don’t want to waste one arrow. And I don’t want you provoking the inhabitants. So you won’t think about shooting until I tell you.”
“I’ll wait for your command.”
“Take a bow and as many arrows as you can carry.”
The bows all had fine profiles, excellent tillering. Two were made of maple. One hickory. Another was backed with sinew. One was slender and white with silver filigree, something for a woman to hunt small game. Talen turned to the bigger bows. The maples were tempting, but Talen decided on the dark hickory bowstave. Hanging by the bows were small sacks of oiled skin which kept the bow strings. He took three of those and two quivers that held twenty arrows each with fine hunting points.
Meanwhile Harnock shuttered up the two windows. When he was done, he picked up a couple of long-knives, then buckled on a sword of fine steel with gold worked into the hilt and pommel. It was a lord’s sword.
Harnock looked around his tidy house one last time, glared at Talen, then walked to the door and motioned Talen out. Talen exited, hurrying past the big man-beast into the sun. Harnock followed and shut the door behind him.
River held a pack out to Talen. She was sweating, looking a bit haggard.
He took the pack and slipped it over his shoulders. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
“She’s going to have to be okay,” said Harnock. “Now let’s move.”
“I’m a little dizzy,” said River. “But I’ll be fine.”
Harnock pointed toward one end of the vale. “I want you two to follow the path at that end. Just follow it straight.”
“Where are you going?” asked River.
“I’m going to circle back, find out exactly where they are.”
“Those crows will see you,” said Talen. “They’ll lead the Divine to you. Let me do it.”
Harnock looked at him. “What, you think you have better woodcraft here in the Wilds? Maybe you’re planning on walking into a wurm field again?”
“No,” said Talen. “It’s not like that.”
Harnock turned to River. “You’re brother’s an idiot.”
“Most of the time,” River said, trying to diffuse the situation with a bit of humor.
Harnock shook his head and turned to leave. “Keep on the trail,” he said to River. “I’ll catch up.”
“I can travel in the yellow world,” Talen said.
Harnock ignored him, made sure his knife was strapped tight.
Talen raised his voice. “I said I can travel in the skir world.”
Harnock stopped and looked over at him.
“At least that’s what I think it is. There are these parts of me—I can send them out. It’s how I found River in the pitch black of night.” He turned to her. “It’s what I attacked you with in the barn.”
“Parts?” Harnock asked.
“Well”—he didn’t know how to describe them—“eel-like things. I call them roamlings.”
Both River and Harnock stood there trying to process what he’d just said. The silence stretched long, and then Harnock asked, “They come out of you?”
“Yes,” said Talen.
He shook his head in disgust. “No wonder you reek.”
“What is it?” River asked.
“He’s a blend,” Harnock said. “With what, I don’t know. But a blend all the same, made to be their dog.”
“You’re a blend,” River pointed out to Harnock.
“And?” Harnock demanded.
“You can show him the way.”
“There is no way,” Harnock said.
Talen looked at the crows above. “So I’ll just go and see where our friends are, okay?”
Harnock said to River. “If he shows any sign of turning, we’ll need to be quick. They might have him on a leash at this very moment. In fact, I’ll bet on it.” He put his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Let me do it now, put him out of his misery. Put him out of mine.” He turned back to Talen. “What do you say?”
“Well,” Talen said. “I’d say you’re an extremely generous fellow, but I’m kind of hoping to avoid the death thing for a while. It’s a little overrated.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Actually,” said Talen, “I do.”
Harnock shook his head. “It’s a mercy I’m promising. In fact, if you want my help, you’ll promise a mercy in return.”
“You need only ask,” River said.
“If I’m taken, you’re going to kill me. And you’re going to do it quick. I will not be their thrall again. Swear to me by your ancestors you will do it.”
“I swear,” River said.
Harnock leveled his gaze at Talen. “Swear.”
If a Divine took Harnock, then Talen would have to fight Harnock. How could he—
“Swear!” Harnock commanded.
Talen jumped. “I’ll murder you straight out,” he said. “I swear it.”
“Good,” Harnock said, satisfied. “Send your eel things forth, but know I’m watching you.”
“That term,” Talen said. “‘Eel things’ makes me feel like some sort of squid. Why don’t we call them roamlings?”
Harnock looked at him like he was a bug. Like he might squish him.
“Right,” Talen said. “Eel things, I’ll just send them out.” But the two of them staring at him made him uncomfortable, so he turned around. He loosened his shoulders, took a breath, and felt after his parts. A moment later, two of the roamlings emerged from his wrists. Except they weren’t separate from him. They were him. Just like an arm or leg.
The yellow world mixed with the blue in his multiple vision. He closed the eyes of his flesh to concentrate better and soared up past the roof on Harnock’s house and into the lavender-tinged sky to see at a distance, to see what others could not.
Above him the crows started to caw, then something spooked them, and they fled. Talen continued to rise until Harnock, River, and the houses below all looked like small carved figurines. He scanned the hills and woods about him with both roamlings. In the distance, he saw some pale orange creatures, skir probably. From the sun, he knew which way was East and West. Nashrud and his dreadmen would probably be coming from the East, the direction of the clan lands. So he flew that way, above the hill on that side of the vale, and scanned the trees, rills, and slopes below him. A minute or so later, he found the dreadmen.
“They’re about two miles back, east southeast,” he said with his body. “They’re working their way up a slope.”
“You’re sure it’s them and not some troop of woodikin?”
“Positive. They’re mounted. I can see Scruff.”
“Our horse,” River clarified.
“Fine,” Harnock said. “Keep an eye on them. I think it’s time they get introduced to the Wilds properly.”
Talen opened his eyes. While the triple vision didn’t overwhelm him as he thought it might, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to run looking multiple ways. So he pulled one roamling back.
He expected Harnock to move out, but he walked over to the stone shrine instead and knelt next to the grave there. He clasped the bone that hung from his necklace and began to murmur something under his breath.
“Whose grave is that?” Talen asked.
“Moon’s, she was his wife.”
“He had a wife?”
“Moon was not your average woman,” she said. “She was a beautiful copper-skinned beauty that could gut you as easily as she could look at you. A smuggler from a rough family.”
“She was married to him? In his blended form?”
“It’s a long story,” said River.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s his to tell,” she said.
Talen thought of the lace in Harnock’s house and the tidy rooms.
Harnock spoke some final words, then rose and came back to them. “We’re going to set a fast pace,” he said.
“I’ll go as fast as I can, but you should know they took my weaves,” Talen said.
“You don’t know how to multiply?”
He reached for his Fire again, but it was sluggish. “I think the collar did something to me.”
“Oh, that’s just grand,” Harnock said.
“It’s probably just a lingering effect,” said River. “I’m sure it will fade with time.”
Harnock pointed at Talen. “Don’t fall behind.”
“What’s the plan?” River asked.
“We’re going to chum the waters, and see what rises.”
That did not sound auspicious, but Talen wasn’t about to press Harnock with questions.
“And you,” Harnock said to Talen. “One false move, and I feed you to the wurms.”
“Likewise,” Talen said, remembering his earlier promise, and immediately felt like an imbecile for saying it.
Harnock narrowed his eyes at him, shook his head at River, then turned and set off at a jog.
“Did we not promise him a mercy?” Talen asked.
“We did.”
“I think he’s going to kill me.”
“Probably,” said River.
“Maybe we should go it alone,” Talen suggested.
“Get moving,” she said and gave him a shove.
* * *
They had to run to keep up with Harnock, and it was tricky watching both the trail ahead and keeping an eye on Nashrud, but he soon realized that problem was also a blessing because focusing on it kept his mind off his hunger and the smell of River’s and Harnock’s souls.
They sped through the woods. However, their pace was evidently too slow, for after a few miles, Nashrud began to gain on them. Talen reported this to Harnock who only growled and lengthened his stride. Talen tried to reach for his Fire again, and this time was able to nudge it, but only just a little. However, he wasn’t the one to hold them back. River was the first to flag. Even though she could multiply, she was still weak from her poisonous brush with death, and she called for a stop. She bent over panting, resting her hands on her knees. Talen wiped his brow and put his hands on his hips, happy for the breather.
Harnock doubled back. “We can’t rest,” he said.
“She’s doing the best she can,” Talen said.
“It’s not good enough,” Harnock said. He turned to River. “Give him your pack.”
When she didn’t comply quickly enough, he pulled it from her and handed it to Talen.
“Raise one arm,” he said to her.
River raised her arm. Harnock grabbed her wrist and leg, then picked her up and laid her across his broad shoulders like she was a beam. He sniffed. “You’re in heat,” he said.
“I . . .” River said, a bit taken aback. “I don’t know. I guess it could be that time.”
“It’s that time,” he said and growled, then set off at a lope.
In heat? Talen thought. Lords. Then he realized Harnock was disappearing fast. Talen reached out for his Fire, despairing that he was truly damaged, but this time his Fire responded. It didn’t leap to his command, but something was much better than nothing at all. Vigor slowly began to trickle into his limbs. He shouldered River’s pack and struck out after the two of them.
Up to this point, he had trusted weaves to keep him safe. To limit him. But Nashrud had all of them now, so Talen was going to have to watch himself. He let his Fire slowly build and increased his pace to keep up with Harnock.
All the while, he watched behind them with his roamling. It was so strange, and yet it felt natural. He experimented with this new part of himself—swimming, flying high and then diving back down. He moved through the tops of the trees, watched Nashrud and his men, and observed that the small flock of pale orange skir in the distance had moved closer.
He ran up hill and down dale, the two packs bouncing on his shoulders, crossed a number of streams. And as he ran, his physical thirst grew. He told himself he’d drink at the next stream, but they didn’t come to a stream. They came to a valley with a large meadow instead. One that stretched for hundreds of yards in all directions. This was another wurm field, a massive one, crisscrossed with worn trails.
Talen immediately stopped. Harnock continued with River on his shoulders.
“Hey,” Talen hissed.
“Keep up,” Harnock growled.
Talen followed him down to the edge of the meadow, then pitched his voice low. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re losing our tail,” Harnock replied. Then he set River down and sniffed the air.
“Och,” River said, putting her hands to the small of her back. “That’s a rough way to travel.”
Harnock said, “If we’re quick, there’s a way through.”
Talen thought back on his narrow escape from the previous wurm field. He thought of the creatures tearing into the dreadmen and their horses. He thought of their terrible speed. “I’m sure that’s what all the animals think.”
“Where are our visitors?” Harnock asked.
Talen had been resting his roamling in the crook of a tree. He sent it higher and looked down. A moment later, he saw Nashrud. “About a mile back.” The sickly orange skir were also closer, striking at something in another tree a few hundred yards away.
“Perfect,” Harnock said.
“You’re really sure we want to go in there?” Talen asked.
Harnock said, “Sometimes I come out here to steal their eggs. Moon was very good at it. The woodikin think they’re a delicacy. Maybe later I can show you how. Take you wurm hunting myself.”
Feed him to the wurms was more like it. “Actually,” Talen said, “I’m happy with chickens, potatoes—things that don’t try to drag you down and devour you in their holes.”
Harnock just grinned. “You’re going to go to the other side and up that slope. When you get to the top, you’ll see a white ridge a short distance to the southwest. That’s the border of the Orange Slayer woodikin tribe. I’ll meet you there. Now follow me exactly.” He turned and moved into the tall grass.
River grabbed a bowstave and one of the packs from Talen and followed Harnock into the grass.
Talen imagined the wurms below, but knew he didn’t have a choice and walked into the meadow after her. After a bit of winding, they came to a fork in the wurm trail and found a hole big enough for a horse. Harnock motioned for them to wait while he walked a bit farther down the trail.
All Talen could do was stare into the dark depths of the huge hole. He swore he saw something move down there and knew some beast was going to shoot forth at any second and grab them in its maw.
Harnock listened, sniffed the air. Then he motioned them forward. Talen was more than happy to move away from that hole until he saw that Harnock had brought them to a nest of three more holes just as large. His heart began pumping. They were deep into the meadow now.
Harnock leaned in close. “When I say run, you sprint with all the speed you can muster for the far side.”
Talen and River nodded, and then Harnock moved forward, silent as a cat, and led them down a narrow path. A short distance later, he followed a branch to the left. And then they crisscrossed over another. How Harnock knew which forks and paths to take, Talen could not guess. About them the wind hissed through the belly-high grass. A wurm sounded down in one of the holes.
Harnock led them past a disgusting mass of half-decomposed bones and fur. At first, Talen couldn’t figure out what it was, then realized it must be wurm excrement. Mixed in with the fur were teeth that looked like they came from a bear. He was still thinking on that when they came up on a hole that was making a popping sound.
Harnock raised his hand for them to stop and motioned them to step back. They waited for a moment, and then Harnock led them in another direction. Not long after that, some distance down the meadow, a thin wurm shot up into the air, trying to catch a bird that had landed in a tree. The bird fled in a storm of flapping wings, but it was too slow, and the wurm caught it midair and fell back to the ground.
The trail led them through a spot of chest-high grass. Then Talen took a step and felt the ground give way a little underneath him. He let out a small yelp of surprise and jumped to the side, rustling the dry grass loudly.
A beat passed, and then a moaning wind rose from their left, but it was not wind making the sound. Talen’s heart beat faster in his chest. Then the moaning stopped, and Talen breathed out in relief.
“Run!” Harnock shouted and pointed to the far side. “That way!”
Talen jolted with alarm, and he and River shot out along a wurm trail. Harnock bounded off along another path, yelling like a madman.
Talen glanced to see where Harnock was going and almost fell into a wurm hole, but he caught himself at the last moment and focused on keeping up with River who was running for all she was worth.
They sprinted for a hundred yards, following a winding trail. The edge of the field drew closer. And then they were out of the grass. But Talen knew they weren’t out of danger, and he urged River to keep running until they were well up the slope in front of them.
Behind them, the moaning in the field grew louder. Talen glanced back to see what was happening. Harnock ran with incredible speed at an angle away from the course they’d taken, drawing the wurms after him. He was all grace and muscle, his fur shining in the sun. A wurm chased through the grass toward him, but Harnock moved faster.
Another wurm rose up in front of him. Harnock drew his sword. The steel flashed, and the wurm fell into two pieces. Another wurm rose. Harnock whooped and flew straight into it, his lord’s sword glinting in the sun.
“By the Goat King’s hairy hind,” Talen said. “He truly is mad.”
River pulled on Talen. “Come on,” she said.
When they reached the top, they paused. Talen looked down with his roamling. The whole meadow hissed and moaned and roiled with wurms. Harnock was at one end shouting down a hole. He was like someone poking a wasp nest with a stick. “Should we wait for him?” Talen asked.
“He said to keep moving. And from that cacophony below, I don’t think we’ll be safe until we’re miles away from here. Let’s get to that ridge.” Then she began to jog down a well-worn animal trail.
Talen was about to follow her when an orange skir broke from its pack and swooped low over his roamling. Talen startled, darted his roamling away. But the orange skir just flew past. It was as long as a horse, and undulated, moving like a leech. Talen looked for the other skir and found them in a group a short distance off.
That had been a bit of a scare. He determined to keep his eye on the skir, blew out a breath, and headed after River. In the blue world, he kept his eyes on the trail. In the yellow world, he watched the the orange skir. It danced in the air, swooped in circles, and made a hideous odd clacking. Talen wondered if it was trying to communicate, like dolphins sometimes did with sailors. He tentatively moved his roamling toward it.
Suddenly, he felt another presence behind his roamling. He turned. Two other sickly orange skir dove at him. He thought of hawks diving at pigeons. Fear shot through him, and he turned and tried to flee, but they were moving too fast.
One of the orange skir caught him. Bit into the roamling.
Pain tore through him, and Talen gasped.
River turned. “What’s wrong?”
Talen desperately tried to break free, to escape, but the second skir fell upon him. Then the third. It felt like they were stabbing him with a dozen knives!
He cried out, and instinctively sent his other roamlings to help, to fight back. But his roamling was too far back on the trail.
He fought, yanked. The skir bit and slashed and tore. And then there was an unimaginable burning, and the whole roamling was torn away from him.
He cried out and stumbled to his knees. The pale orange skir fought over the pieces of his roamling. Then he realized his other roamlings were exposed, and he didn’t know where the other skir were. His panic swelled, and he swam his parts back down the trail for the safety of his flesh. He knew at any moment another one of the skir would rip into him, but he made it back to his body and slipped in.
Behind him, one of the large orange skir flew after his roamlings, but he was safe. He took one last look at the creature, then closed his doors and shut the yellow world out. His multiple visions focused into one view of the dirt before him. He was on his hands and knees, panting.
“Talen,” River said.
“A moment,” he said. It felt like someone had carved a huge piece out of him, leaving nothing but a screaming wound. He took a few breaths, then pushed himself up on his haunches. “We need to get away from this place.”