Chapter 35: The Change Grows

Chapter 35: The Change Grows

I forgive you, the traveler said, for it is not me you set your hearts against.

The villagers scorned him and bade him be silent, but he shook his head.

There is a man you spurn, but he is not me. You have never met me. You do not know my home, my mother and father. You do not know the secret thoughts that pass behind my eyes as I lay awaiting sleep. The man you hate is of your own creation, a vision you see atop the form of other men. He is spun from your own thoughts and woven of your fears. The traveler looked at the villagers and shed a tear. Again, I forgive you. This man is hateful. Be rid of him and content yourself with his absence. When another comes to your village, look at him with fresh eyes and see the truth of his heart.

The village headman did not respond save to light the pyre under the travelers feet.

- The Book of Eight Verses, the Verse of Blood. (New Kheman Edition, 542 PD)

The forest whispered apart around the cart as the horses drew it forward. The animals moved with a slow, deliberate walk, their heads tossing nervously; Emil was watchful and tense, and Michael could sense the horses dim awareness of his mood. There was no need to take any particular care when moving, of course - Sobriquets veil lay around them, and Michael hid the traces of their passage under a blanket of creeping roots and vines.

Yet even Michael caught himself speaking quietly, darting glances at the forest around them. They had traveled thus far with the knowledge that they were being watched, pursued, but it had been a far-off thing. Now there were Ardan soldiers along the road, not five minutes walk distant. Even if they were blind to their presence, even if they would doubtlessly fail to catch them in the woods - there was an inevitable tension lent by walking so close to men that would kill them given the chance.

Michael shook his head and returned his attention to the forest. They had descended somewhat as they approached the road, moving into broad lowland valleys that touched the mountain pine forests with scrub oak and elm. The high cold of the hills had brought autumns first touch early, and there were patches of gold amid the green slopes. For a moment Michael forgot the discomfiting pressure of their pursuit and saw only the forest, the simple beauty of its growth.

A whiff of smoke from the Ardans camp pulled him back to the present, cutting through the clean mountain air and setting the horses to nervous whickering. Emil made soft clucking noises with his tongue, and Sobriquet materialized over the cart.

This is our closest approach, she said. Michael noted with some satisfaction that her voice was quieter than normal as well; even she was not immune to the soft paranoia of proximity. After this the road is clear, though we shouldnt risk walking it for some time.

Emil grunted. Well have to at some point, he said. There are only three passes north from this valley. He extended his arm, pointing to either side of a tall, snowcapped mountain that loomed ahead of them. The easternmost is the road to Estu, and the Mendiko holdings south of the strait - not an option, needless to say. The western two lead to old Rul, and the northern front. Neither should be well-used, the Ardans prefer to bring their supplies the long way around and avoid the mountains entirely.

Michael looked up at the eastern pass, his sight sharpening on it. Even at this distance he could pick out the hard, grey lines of concrete amid the rocks. Bear with me while I ask an apparently needless question, he said, but were trying to get to Mendian, right? Why not just-

There is only one open crossing to Mendian, Sobriquet said. The Goitxea locks, bordering Esrou. Anywhere else, approaching the Mendiko border is swift and certain death. She pivoted, her form floating down to hover next to Michael. And before you ask, we will not be approaching under cover of stealth. History is rife with accounts of dead men who thought themselves cleverer than the Mendiko.

The glint of metal twinkled from above the distant fortifications, and Michael narrowed his eyes. They could close the pass, if they wanted to block it off, he muttered. Why leave it open?

Because Mendian does not believe in defending borders. Sobriquet floated up to look across the valley. Its why they have land on this side of the strait to begin with - their doctrine has ever been retaliatory conquest rather than simple defense. The pass is not where they plan to defend Mendian if attacked, it is from there that they will strike forward to destroy their enemies. It is how they have dealt with aggressors ever since the days of the first Gharic emperors.

Emil snorted. And here I had heard Ardan schools were well-regarded, he said. What do they teach you, if not that?

I learned of Mendian, Michael said defensively. My tutors focused on-

Tutors? Emil laughed. Ghars blood. Of course, my lord, forgive me for implying that you mingled with the common folk.

Michael sighed and said nothing; it wasnt as if he could deny Emils mockery, his upbringing had carried every advantage one could hope for. That his knowledge was so lacking in areas was embarrassing - and concerning; his education was typical for the Ardan elite. If his time in Daressa had taught him anything, it was that Assemblymen lived in an appreciably different world than most people.

It seems unlikely that any would test them here, regardless, Sobriquet said, mercifully interceding on Michaels behalf. And so we will likewise leave them to their solitary watch, because there are no good outcomes from provoking Mendian. They ensure that there is no profit in it, and a guaranteed loss - every time.

A bit more thoroughly-answered than I had planned, but I did ask, Michael sighed. I suppose that we have little option but to continue north. Of the remaining passes, which will we use?

Sobriquet hovered close, amusement in her voice. Same as ever, she said. Well pick the one that seems least likely to get us all killed.

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They did not relax until they passed the small creek at the low point of the valley and Sobriquet pronounced that the Ardans had shown no sign of movement. The way was slower now that they moved uphill, but Michael felt himself stepping lighter now that it was just them and the woods once more.

Not everyone shared his sentiments; the horses, for one, were noticeably irritated at the extra work. He smiled and scratched the nearer horse on the shoulder.

Stop that, Emil grunted. Dont distract them or this cart will be on its side.

Theyre just- Michael bit back his response, as telling Emil that his horses were tired, cranky and not a little resentful of his grip on the reins would raise more problems than it would solve. Sobriquet had made her peace with Sparks presence, but she had the perspective afforded by her own soul.

Michael had little doubt that some of the others would react less-amicably to that revelation. Emil, for certain. Charles and Vernon, perhaps. Luc? He already knew, but he was under the impression Michael had it locked away.

He shook his head and stepped away, feeling Emils eyes on his back. The trees began to thin around them as they moved up the slope, stunted and bowed sideways from the wind which now freely buffeted the cart. Past a low ridge the undergrowth faded into hardy, flower-speckled tundra that clung tenaciously between the rocks.

It was a relief for Michael, as he did not have to shape the path anymore; it was likewise a problem for the cart that he could not. The horses stepped gingerly along the incline, with Emil craning his neck sideways worriedly every time a rocky spill of debris came along. Once or twice a rock shifted under a hoof, and Michael could feel the intense spike of adrenaline from both horse and driver ripple through him like a far-off concussion.

On a flatter stretch Luc hopped out of the cart once more to stretch his legs. Michael could feel his immediate relief at being distant from the others, though, a lessening of the constant worry his soul caused him. Without the constraint of fatigue, he likely would have chosen to walk outside the carriage the whole trip.

A difficult trail, Luc remarked, his breath coming quicker in the thin mountain air. Easy to see why this range forms a border. Its a shame that the way is so hard, its quite- He paused, taking a few deep breaths and shaking his head. Quite beautiful.

Michael smiled. I rather like it. Ive seen the mountains in Ardalt, when I was younger. Theyre shorter, smoother - softer, if that makes any sense. Everything here is bare and sharp, cold and clear.

A grunt from Emil made them turn their heads. Best hope were off the mountain before the day wears on too much, he said. Itll only stay clear a bit past mid-day. When the rain sweeps in well want to be down among the trees once more, or well have more than rocks and wind to contend with.

There was a loud report, and the monolith in his focus shattered into a thousand wisps of shining light, the edges reforming around four large chunks of flowing-edged rock that had split from the whole. He felt the tension within him snap like a cable to send him shuddering to the ground. Blood dripped freely from his nose; his vision blurred.

Michael! Sobriquet called out. Clair, help me get him away from the rock-

He let their voices blend into indistinct nonsense, his focus sliding sideways and away for a time. When he regained it, he was inside the cart looking up at the others. Soft vibrations rumbled up from the carts wheels.

Mmh, he muttered, trying to work some saliva into his parched mouth. Clair looked down, then reached to pass him a canteen. Michael raised himself up gingerly, wincing at the spike of pain in his head before taking a few swallows of the water.

Welcome back to the land of the living, milord, Charles said. Youre a shit artifex, in my professional opinion, but Ill make an exception in this circumstance and say - well done.

Michael blinked. Thanks, he croaked. But Im not sure what I did, if anything. I may have - um. Overreached.

You lost a mugful of blood through your nose, is what you did, Clair scowled, handing him half a sausage. Here, eat something. We didnt put up with you for this long so you could kill yourself fighting a damn rock.

He took the food, nodding gratefully; when Clairs stern glare did not waver he took a tentative bite from the end. She nodded in approval, crossing her arms.

Michael levered himself back into a more normal sitting position atop a crate of supplies, taking another drink of water and letting his eyes drift closed. His thoughts wandered back to his struggle against the boulder, its inhuman solidity. A fragment of what he had seen in the mirror-light flickered through his mind, fogged by memory and pain; he tried to concentrate on it.

He gave up. His head was pounding, and the small bite of sausage had reminded his stomach that it was indeed rather hungry. Its demands were reasonable ones; Michael acquiesced and took another bite, opening his eyes to look around the cart.

It was cramped, with everyone riding in the interior. Despite that he felt none of the awkward strain that had driven him to walk outside in past days. The destruction of the boulder had lifted everyones mood, save for a few spikes of acute concern. Reasonable, given the delay - they would have to hurry to get down the mountain in time. He took another swig of water, feeling the emotion modulate suddenly into satisfaction-

Michael prided himself on showing no reaction to surprise, something that had no doubt saved his life while living with his father. Even so, he struggled for a moment to keep his breathing steady when he realized that the concern he felt radiating from the others was not for the Ardans, nor for their chances with the weather.

Are you all right? Luc asked, looking up at the hitch in his breath. Michael still felt a tiny thread of fear from him, and perhaps that would never go away - but it was drowned by other, warmer things now. Perhaps it had done him some good to see Michael laid low by his own soul and pull through relatively unscathed.

He smiled and nodded back. I am, thanks, he said. Although I really dont know what I did back there besides give myself a headache.

Going to put me out of work, Sobriquet muttered. You managed to cut it down into chunks that we mere mortals could shift out of the way.

We? Clair asked. I dont recall you doing much of the shifting.

Its unwise to engage in a struggle when not properly armed for it, Sobriquet replied, waggling her fingers.

Clair snorted. Stop it.

Sobriquet leaned in, smiling. Luckily you werent left shorthanded.

An empty sack flew across the cart to strike her in the face. The least useful of the Eight, I swear, Clair grumbled.

Michael suppressed a grin. How are we doing on time? he asked. Was I out for long?

Not long, Vernon replied. Not even an hour, Id say.

And weve been making good time since then, Sobriquet said. In fact- Her eyes defocused, and a few seconds later Emil stopped the cart.

Now? he called out. Were in the most dangerous part of the pass if the weather comes in!

Well just be a moment, Sobriquet said, crouching to open the door and jumping lightly down to the ground. The view is worth a few minutes pause.

Curious, Michael sent his sight out of the cart. The light struck clear and cold from the sun high overhead, and all around him the land stretched away in hazy majesty. They had stopped at the highest point of the pass, a dull ridge of stone that slouched between two adjacent peaks. To the south lay the valley they had just traversed, all forest and mountain with a few clearings dotting the gold-on-green forest.

To the north, though, lay a vast open highland. He could see the path forward snaking away down the spine of a ridge, and past that a sea of greenery that had yet to feel autumns early touch. Lakes glinted against the vista, and the sunlit snakes of rivers winding their way through the trees.

Yet there were bare, grey patches as he looked further north, stretches denuded of trees and ground to dead, churned mud. He let his gaze linger on it for a moment, then stood to join the others outside.

The chill wind struck him in the face, banishing the last of his lightheadedness from before. He blinked against the sudden breeze, then walked to look north with the others.

The front, Charles said. Its slid back and forth across that plain for years, in this stretch. Right now theyre farther north than theyve been in decades, but still not to the far side of it. In fact-

He broke off as an odd pulse swept over the landscape, clouds and haze vanishing from view in a heartbeat. The world flexed, shimmered - and in the distance, a perfectly spherical blot of darkness appeared over the land.

Michael stared. Even this far away, the black void was huge - enough to lose Calmharbor in its midst. For a long moment nobody spoke, only watching the unnatural darkness and the clouds it sent spiraling away on the updraft.

I had been wondering where the Safid were keeping him, if not opposing Sever in the south. Sobriquet said. I guess now we know.

Michael licked his lips, feeling the slow fear creeping back into the others. Smoke? he asked.

Sobriquet nodded. Smoke, she confirmed wryly. As luck would have it.