Firesoul Read online

  "He's like that. Most adventurers are. Obsessed with their gear." Linaria sighed. "I used to worry that hanging around places like this, I would be forced to hear nothing but brag after brag about who had slain the most monsters, won the most treasure, or earned the most carnal gratitude from grateful princes or princesses. Instead, I get to listen to people argue for hours over what kind of grease waterproofs a boot best, or the proper way to strip and clean a crossbow."

  "Good equipment can mean the difference between life and death," Sera said. Despite the time she'd taken to get ready, the paladin seemed to have only swapped the white cape for her usual tabard.

  "So I've been told. Many times." Linaria shifted her own small pack. "Still, I think I'd really rather hear about the grateful princes."

  Morvius came striding back from his room, another spear in his hand. It was shorter than Scritch, and its point shone with the normal gray of steel, but its edges glittered wickedly in the candlelight. "Here. It's my second-best thrower, but it's not an embarrassment."

  "And what am I to do with my embarrassment?" Four years ago, Jiri had spent her entire share of the profits from Thirty Trees' mango harvest to buy her spear from a trader. It was more for hunting, yes, but...

  "Leave it. Maybe somebody can use it for a toothpick."

  Jiri bristled, but Morvius was handing her the new spear and she could feel its lightness, its balance, the way it felt in her hands. "Fine," she snapped, then paused, entirely certain in that moment just how Oza would be looking at her. "Thank you."

  "What are you lot up to? No good?" Near them, a Keleshite man in long robes leaned back in his chair, a wine glass dangling from his hand.

  "Just chasing smoke, Basan," Linaria answered.

  "Ah. Checking out the fire, eh?" The man finished his wine and set down the cup. "I don't know why you're bothering. Sounds like a classic goblin raid."

  Morvius swung his pack onto his back and grabbed Scritch. "There's no goblins living near the Ndele Gap Trail, Basan."

  "The Ndele Gap Trail?" The man cocked an eyebrow, puzzled. "I thought you were talking about that village that got burned out tonight. What happened on the trail?"

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "Pakala is a Tirakici village, a bit south of Kibwe. Not far from Thirty Trees." The spear in Jiri's hand glowed, its tip shining as if she had somehow pierced the dark canopy that spread over them and snagged a star down. In its light, she scanned the branches of the trees that grew beside the eastern trail, looking for the green flash of leopard eyes.

  "So, not close to the caravan site." Linaria looked like a wraith in the light that Jiri had gathered with her magic and hung on her spear tip. "These two burnings may only have bad luck linking them."

  Bad-luck magic, Jiri thought. "That thing could fly."

  "We'll check the caravan first," Sera said. "Then we'll go to the village that Basan heard about. It might have attacked both."

  "Or neither," Morvius said from behind them.

  No. Jiri kept the thought to herself, but she was sure of it. That thing that had been unleashed...Her last moments before the Pyre spun through Jiri's head—the stone wall burning, the ash gathering in the air into gray-white wings, and something glowing, like the sun burning through clouds...

  Then she had fallen, and everything had gone black until she woke again in Thirty Trees. Alive, spared for some reason by that thing. Why had it done that, let her live while it burned that northern archer, then Thirty Trees and Hadzi and the others who had waited with him? It had let her escape, and then come back when her anger had kindled once again to flame.

  No. Jiri wanted to shout the word, but she clenched it between her teeth. Hadzi's father and all the others were wrong. It's not me. I'm not bad-luck magic. I'm not.

  That woman is dangerous, I heard her whole village burned. Corrianne's mocking voice echoed in her head.

  No.

  I think evil has touched you. Sera's voice, Sera who was following her now, convinced that Jiri could lead her straight to this thing, this evil that Patima and her friends had unleashed.

  They did it. She did it. Not me. They freed this thing, this curse.

  Not me.

  Moving down the trail, Jiri shoved that fear down, away, and in the empty place it left behind the coals of her anger glowed bright.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  They reached the caravan camp just past midnight. The half-moon had risen and was shedding its pale light onto the low hill that rose from the surrounding swamp. It was light enough to confirm Jiri's fears.

  "It's the same as Thirty Trees."

  She stood in the center of the clearing and stared at the destruction. The packed dirt of the hilltop was charred black, and ash had settled across it, gray and white and dead. Mixed in here and there were bones, twisted and broken with heat. Camel bones, mostly. The human bones were few and scattered, mostly femurs and pelvises and skulls, bigger bones that hadn't fully melted or burned in the heat.

  "There's metal here," Morvius said, stirring the ashes with his boot. "Melted iron, mostly, armor or weapons or cooking pans, who knows. Some copper." He bent and touched a chunk of the dark metal. "It's still hot, but not burning hot."

  "Are there any tracks?" Sera asked. The paladin stood in the center of the clearing, looking around, frowning. "Can you lead me to the monster that did this?"

  "No." A breeze sighed through the trees, stirred the ash, and Jiri closed her eyes. She had no use for tears.

  Not now.

  "The caravan came in, set up, and this thing burned them. Charred a perfect circle that took the whole camp." Jiri opened her eyes and stared at the blasted ground. "It flew in and killed them all before they had a chance to run. Then it went on. Same as Thirty Trees."

  They spent a few more minutes searching the ashes, but there was nothing more but those blackened remnants of the dead and swirling clouds of mosquitoes.

  "We've found what we can here." Sera stepped around the twisted remains of a camel skull, walking toward the path. "Let's find this village that burned. There might be something there."

  "Because we found so much here," Morvius said.

  "We found out something," Jiri said.

  "What?"

  "That I was right. That thing is still out here." Jiri shouldered her bag and started walking after the paladin.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jiri studied the branching of the narrow trail they were on. "This one."

  "You're sure that leads to Pakala?" Linaria asked.

  "Yes."

  "You've been on it before?" Morvius asked, then stifled a yawn. They'd been walking most of the night, back almost to Kibwe, then out along the winding network of foot trails that ran through the jungle around Kibwe like a crazed spider web, linking the smaller villages to the ancient walled city.

  "No. I've never been to Pakala before. But it's the right direction."

  Morvius stared at the narrow footpaths that twisted through the giant trees and hanging vines. "Right. How much are we getting out of Sera, Linaria?"

  "Our usual rate of not quite enough." Linaria yawned and stretched. "C'mon, lets go. It's almost dawn."

  "Yeah, it would be a shame to try to walk around here when we could see where we're going."

  Jiri ignored Morvius and led them down the trail, sure that it was the right one. It had to be; nothing else ran the right direction. Soon, her confidence was rewarded. Drifting through the jungle, almost lost in the scent of water and orchids and rot, came the smell of smoke.

  Basan hadn't known much. He had been visiting a friend in the Kibwe guard who was standing watch on the wall while Jiri and her friends had been trapped in the council hall. They had seen the glow of sparks and flame rising from the dark blanket of trees to the south of the city.

  "He thought it might be coming from Pakala," Basan had told them. "He was worried about it. Said he had a cousin that had married a boy and moved out there."

  The guard might worry, but Kibwe won't.
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  The trail bent around a thick grove of redmark trees, their branches bristling with thorns, and the canopy opened a little, showing a sky gone gray with the approaching dawn. In that thin light, smoke drifted from the broken homes of Pakala like blood flowing from a wound.

  Jiri stopped, then slipped back a little. With a thought she extinguished the light that clung to the tip of her spear and crouched, staring out at the shadows of the village. Behind her, the others drew up, silent as she was.

  She didn't see any dead. No bodies lay on the earth between the ruined houses. The vague shadows scattered across the ground all slowly resolved into broken pots, spilled baskets of fruit, piles of tangled cloths, and torn hammocks. Nothing more, except...Jiri stayed still, breathing silently, watching, waiting, until she saw that flicker of motion again. A shadow shifted beside one of the baskets, and Jiri heard a tiny sound, a liquid, tearing noise. The thing shifted again, rippled like one of the cloths had come to life, then lifted its head.

  Breathing out, Jiri relaxed and stepped back onto the trail. Whispering to the spirits, she circled her hand through the empty air, fingers leaving a wake of shadows as she scooped starlight and moonlight into a tiny globe of white light that she fixed again to the tip of her spear.

  "Are you sure it's clear?" Linaria asked.

  "The fruit bats think so." The shadow Jiri had been watching blinked in the light she had made, a long red tongue running out to swipe at the banana pulp that covered its snout. When Linaria and the rest stepped out, the bat spread its wide wings and flapped off into the trees. Its flight kicked off a screeching retreat as all the other bats that had gathered to feast on abandoned fruit took off after it, leaving the village.

  "Well, whatever did this knows we're here now," Morvius said, watching as the last bats vanished into the trees, their cries waking a troop of monkeys to screeching complaint.

  "Whatever did this is gone," Jiri said, looking around. "And whatever it was, it wasn't the same thing that destroyed Thirty Trees."

  There had been fire here, that was obvious. Most of the small houses were burned down to the dirt, but there was no circle of devastation. The ground between them hadn't burned, and the food and belongings scattered around the still-smoking ashes were mostly untouched by flame. No brand of heat had been pressed against the earth here. Something had destroyed Pakala in the night, but it wasn't the thing from the Pyre.

  "Bandits?" Linaria asked as they walked into the ruined village and looked around.

  "Stealing what?" Morvius said.

  "People." Sera went to one of the few homes that hadn't burned and peered in, then shook her head. "No one, no bodies. I would bet slavers."

  "This close to Kibwe?" Linaria shook her head. "The council may talk about isolation, but I don't think they would allow this. They'd squeeze the Bekyar quarter until those scarred flesh dealers squealed."

  "I think you put too much faith in those greedy old cowards." Morvius shifted some debris with the butt of his spear, then bent over and picked something up. "But I think you're right about it not being slavers. I found a few coins dropped here. And some of this cloth was decent before it got trampled into the dirt. Slavers would have taken everything of value, along with all the people."

  "They didn't get them all."

  Jiri looked up from the ground, where she had been studying a set of strange tracks printed into the dirt, and looked at Sera. The paladin's face was even paler than usual, and her eyes for once weren't full of judgment or ambition.

  "That hut." Sera pointed back at the crumpled, half-burned mess she had been peering into. "There are bodies there. A person and...some children. I think they barricaded themselves in. The hut burned around them. They're all together, charred together." The paladin's voice grew softer as she spoke, her eyes distant, haunted. She stood silent, her hand on the hilt of her sword, staring at nothing. Then she shook, once, like a water buffalo shedding flies, and the hard polish slipped back into her eyes, armoring them like the steel that wrapped around her body.

  "Slavers wouldn't burn their profit," she said, words crisp. "What do you see in the dirt, girl?"

  That girl drove the curious sympathy that Jiri had begun to feel for the paladin away. I'm not your hunting dog, she thought.

  Not exactly.

  "There was something here." Jiri started walking, moving around the village, looking for places where the dirt was softer, where marks had been left. "Not human. Smaller, with clawed feet. Not charau-ka." Thank the spirits. Things were bad enough now. They didn't need to involve those demon-worshiping ape-creatures.

  "Are you sure about that?" Sera asked. "Usaro has a long reach in this jungle."

  "As if Jiri doesn't know that from growing up here. Anyway, even I can tell it can't be charau-ka. There's not enough crap thrown around." Morvius pocketed the coins he found, bent over and picked up a banana and began to peel it. "Goblins?" he asked, words slurred by the fruit he was chewing. "They like to burn things."

  "Kibwe pays a bounty on them. I've not heard of any this close to the city my whole life." Jiri found another track and crouched over it. Something about it worried her, but she couldn't place it. She moved to the edge of the village, then started to walk around it. The light was growing around her, dawn fast approaching, and the trail when she found it was obvious. "They came in from all directions, it looks like. An ambush from all sides. But they left all together. Going this way." She pointed down a narrow track that twisted into the jungle.

  "Do we follow?" Linaria's eyes shifted between Jiri and Sera. "Whatever did this, it's not the beast we're looking for."

  "No. But..." Jiri stared at the scuffs in the packed dirt. Two fires in the same night. Does something tie them together?

  "We'll follow for a while," Sera said. The paladin looked back at the village, to where she had found the bodies. "It may not be what we're looking for, but it's not anything that deserves to live."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  They were in a grove of yellowwoods, the tall trees all webbed together by the spreading trunks of strangler fig, and beneath all those leaves dawn was just a rumor of heat. Jiri crouched low to the trail, making sure of the tracks that still ran along it, and saw a flash of muted color in the shadows. Stepping off the trail, she found the bracelet, a string of little brass bells. She searched the ground around it and found some of the small, clawed footprints that she had been following. Beside one of them, she found another print, one that had been lost before among the clawed ones. A human print.

  Holding her hand up to the others, she glided forward. The thick undergrowth seemed to bend around her as she moved, and she gave thanks to their green spirits for letting her pass. Moving as silently as she could, she followed the marks on the ground toward the tower of vines that rose in front of her. An empty tree—a strangler fig had grown over some great tree long ago, wrapped it like a python in its embrace and killed it. That tree had rotted away, and now the fig stood in its place, a twisted mass of huge vines that wrapped around nothing. In that void, Jiri saw a flash of red, and that color sent a shock through her. Her memory unlocked, and she felt her stomach clench with fear and disgust.

  She knew what they were trailing.

  Rising slowly, she moved back to where the others could see her and waved to them, beckoning. Watching them push and hack their way through the undergrowth to reach her, she whispered an apology to those plant spirits she had just thanked. When they finally reached her, she pointed toward the empty tree.

  "One of the things that attacked Pakala is there. With one of the women from the village."

  "What is it? What's it doing?" Morvius asked.

  "It's a biloko," Jiri said, and saw their blank stares. "They're always hungry. It's eating her."

  "Can we surround it?" Sera was pulling her shield free from her back. "Keep it from running?"

  "We won't have to. Not with the way they feed." Jiri took a breath, gathering herself. "Come on."

  They trailed be
hind her, struggling to keep up even here where the leaves overhead blocked almost all the sun and undergrowth was thin, but they caught up with her at the base of the empty tree. A large opening lay between the strangler fig's trunks, and through that gap the great hollow space where the dead tree once stood could be seen. Dappled light fell in it from far above, where the strangler fig pierced the canopy, and in those tiny spots of sunlight, the biloko crouched.

  The creature was the size of a child, maybe three and a half feet tall, and shaped something like a child, with a large head and thin limbs. But it was no child. Its skin was red as blood and hairless, thatched instead with green growths like vines. Its hands and feet were clawed, and its face...

  It was gaunt, and the crimson skin wrinkled and drooped like an old man's around its huge eyes. Those eyes were yellow and lidless, with tiny black pupils, and its ears swept up into points. Its mouth was a nightmare. Jiri remembered Oza's stories to the children, how he warned them to run if they ever heard music, beautiful and strange, whistled to them from the dark places in the forest. He had warned them about the biloko's terrible, hungry mouth, the thin lips that spread ear to ear, the teeth in rows like neat daggers. He'd told them how that mouth could stretch wider than any snake's, to swallow them whole.

  Like this one's mouth was stretching now.

  Jiri thanked the spirits that at least the creature had started with the poor woman's head first, and prayed that her death had come quick and that her spirit had not looked back when it fled her body. No one needed an image like this following them into the next world.

  The biloko lay on the ground like an animal, its scrawny arms and legs sprawled limp in the dirt. Its belly was huge, swollen from some earlier victim. Its mouth stretched far too wide, wrapping around the body of the woman it was slowly, slowly swallowing. Its teeth worked methodically, grinding at arms and ribs, pulling in flesh and bone, and its yellow eyes were filmy with some sort of ecstatic satisfaction as it filled itself.

  Beside her, Jiri heard Linaria curse, and when she looked at her the half-elf was somehow even paler, her hand over her mouth.