11 The Shathra

THREADFIN WATCHED THE stranger step between two of the monstrous sculptures. A forest-green soldier’s cloak flirted with fallen leaves as the slender man moved with the caution of a veteran, or perhaps a skilled thief.

Above the clearing the clouds were thick and grey. Surrounding them were trees of birch, elm, and poisonous yew. The ground rose to the left carpeted in moss and edged with ferns where he’d fallen. It had to be the foothills of the Scab Mountains. They bordered the Artaca Plains and linked with the Artaca Mountain range further north. Far to the east beyond the plains and yet more mountains, Icarthya sat on the coast. Thinking of it like that made it seem closer, but it had never felt further away.

The visitor lowered his hood as he approached. Threadfin groaned when he recognised the face with its livid scar. Schooling his own, he waited as Podral Pole approached. I’ll fight him if I have to. Not that he expected to win, but he’d stand his ground. If he could stand at all. He didn’t care about damp or chill. Baking sun or freezing winters were all the same to him, although damp conditions did cause other problems.

What his kind did feel, as much as breathers, was pain. His chest burned and his back throbbed. Exhausted too, though he knew it had nothing to do with all that running. His recent illness was responsible for that. The decomposition of a viral was slow, but he believed he could now feel its progression. He waited to see if the breather had come to end him, and wondered if it wouldn’t be for the best.

‘There you are, you ugly bastard,’ barked Pole as he halted several feet away. He planted fists on hips and stared at Threadfin like a disgruntled mother at a dirty child. Threadfin might’ve laughed had he felt the urge. He didn’t. ‘What you doing lying there?’ Pole continued. ‘You could die with exposure. Oh, wait, sorry, you’re already deceased, aren’t you?’

‘Hilarious.’

‘I thought so.’

Threadfin tried to rise but collapsed again with a spasm. ‘Just half dead by the way and what about you? I saw you bleeding on the ground. You should be a goner yourself. You definitely look almost there.’

‘Now, what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just that us dead folk have all the fun, or haven’t you noticed?’ What was he doing? Angering a man who’d vowed to kill him? Do I really want it to end? Part of him did, but another part knew it wasn’t time.

Pole spat to the side. ‘I’m not eager to join the fun just yet, lad.’ He’d gotten rid of his borderlands clothing, now wearing a hooded green cloak over iron scale. Under that was a green woollen tunic, worn to the knees like most elitist Icarthians, and an iron short sword on his right hip. On his lower legs were the wrappings known as swals instead of the breeches that were common to lower ranks. He spat a second time with emphasis.

‘Where’d you steal those clothes from?’ asked Threadfin. ‘A bit elitist for the likes of you.’

The thief snorted. ‘Mayhap someone gifted them to me. How’d you know they didn’t? Anyway, poor bugger hadn’t need of them anymore.’

‘You killed him, I’m guessing.’

‘Don’t answer to you, Todder, but you will answer to me. You’ll do as I say when I say it, you hear? I’m in charge of you, now.’

‘You’re not here to kill me?’

He seemed taken aback at the question. With a grunt, he screwed up his face and spat. He did that a lot. ‘Now why’d you go and ask that? We were just beginning to get along.’

‘Huh, I remember you suggesting it was best to kill me, remember? I know you’ve no love for me, Pole, so quit this grolg shit. Why haven’t you murdered me already? Why are we chatting here like old friends?’

‘Right, yeah, that stuff I said afore.’ Surprisingly, his face took on a shamed expression. ‘Had to push him hard, right? I suspected what he was up to, but I wasn’t sure. You understand?’ He cleared his throat when he realised Threadfin didn’t.

‘Right, well,’ he continued, ‘I needed to know for certain if he was one of them, but he was a clever bastard. Had me near convinced he was legit, a downright turd bucket mind, but a legit turd bucket. Couldn’t go killing him just on a suspicion, could I? Not what I’m about at all. I mean, I don’t like killin’ at the best of times.’

‘I find that difficult to believe.’

‘It’s the truth. Think what you want, but I’m no murderer. Anyhow, there were others besides him to watch. That, and well, I couldn’t let him suspect me, you know, in case he was who I suspected he was. Of course, if he knew who I was, he was pretending he didn’t. See, all very simple.’

‘I’m sure in your head it is.’

Pole gave a long sigh as though forcing patience. ‘I was there to protect you, lad, from Felps as it turns out, but he wasn’t the only one under suspicion. We knew someone might try eventually. Look, you’ll learn why soon enough.’

He didn’t believe a word. ‘Okay, why did he try to kill me?’ Of the two, it had been Ludwole Felps he’d trusted most, and that hadn’t been much. He no longer knew if he could trust anyone.

‘Like I said, it’s complicated,’ Pole said with sour look. He was offended.

‘You said it was simple.’

‘He’ll be on your trail hard now, and he won’t be alone. I found you, didn’t I? Look, if I was going to kill you, I’d have done it by now.’

Maybe, thought Threadfin, but I’ll trust you when grolg fly. ‘There was another man with Felps, after he stabbed you.’ Threadfin knew his name and rank, but that wasn’t what he wanted to know. ‘He had a weird dagger and tried to perform some sort of ritual.’ He didn’t mention he also lit on fire from the inside out.

Pole was looking about, peering into the treeline. ‘Don’t know nothing about it. Don’t know what he wants with you.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Look, I don’t care what you bloody believe. I told you, if I could find you, they definitely will.’ He spread his hands again in a placating gesture. ‘Okay, I can tell you this. They wanted you alive, but I don’t know the reason. I do know a person who does, and I can take you to them. Felps had many opportunities to kill you, but didn’t. Was what confused me about him, you see. Events caught up with us, I guess. I never saw that knife coming. I barely twisted in time. He got nothing vital. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here looking at your gorgeous kisser.’

Felps had wanted me for that exemplar. Canaan Pen Luthus was infamous as the high exemplar. A man of high standards and a skewed morality. Threadfin’s mind was a whirl of questions, and Pole’s answers just raised others.

‘You know, I’ve been freezing my chestnuts off trying to find you and I hate the cold more than the earth dancin’. I killed my darag trying to catch you, and it takes a lot to run those to death. Not meant for forest travel, I suppose. I’d swear you were hell’s own with the speed you were moving at. Now, I’ve enough of this.’

‘What if you’re just keeping me alive like Felps did, for your own reasons.’

‘Oh, for the love of sweet Grim’s hairy ... he stabbed me, remember?’

‘Yes, and you’re alive. Convenient, isn’t it?’

‘Seems you got a choice, then. Come with me or go it alone.’ The tone in his voice suggested he would not allow the latter.

Guess it would be better with the bastard where I could see him, rather than out there in the shadows, he reasoned. It was snowing. Light at first, the flakes turned heavy. It was still late autumn, but they were on higher ground. Several landed on his face. No, not snow but sleet. The forest on either side darkened. It was growing late and he had to admit he didn’t know which way to go. Pole might tell him, but what if he got lost again?

‘Can you get me out of this forsaken forest?’

‘Lost, are you?’ The breather looked amused. He began picking his nose with a dirty finger.

No, he didn’t trust Pole, but he might end up wandering through Tarl for weeks. He couldn’t afford to waste that much time. ‘How long have you been searching for me?’

‘Come on, get on your feet,’ barked Pole. ‘In case you still haven’t figured this out, I’m trying to help. I’ll get you out.’ He stepped closer and unclasped his cloak, wrapping it about Threadfin. ‘You’re soaked through and those borderland coats don’t keep out the cold near as good.’

‘I’m a viral, remember? Don’t feel the cold like you pulsers do.’

Pole hesitated, then took the cloak back and threw it over his own shoulders. ‘You know, you isn’t looking great. In fact, I’ve seen week-old turds looking healthier.’

‘I asked you how long?’

‘Near five days.’

I have no memory of five days. He’d been running so long that time had lost meaning. ‘I don’t feel well.’

‘Neither do I, but seeing as I can die and you’re already dead, my sympathies rest with myself. Anyhow, thought you said your lot don’t feel.’

‘Cold ... I said we don’t feel the cold. This, this is ... something’s wrong.’

‘It’s not that, you know, ah, what happened afore?’ When Threadfin didn’t answer, Pole shut his eyes and sighed. ‘Right, thirty minutes rest and then we leave. Not a minute over. I want to get out of here. These statues make me itch.’

‘What, the Shathra? Angels should give you strength.’ Threadfin touched the crucifix at his neck as he spoke. It was made of cheap silver, its surface corroded and dull, without reflection.

‘This is the Shathra, true enough, but look at them. They’re different, much different.’

‘Than what?’

‘Angels.’

Threadfin didn’t know what to say. What could exist other than angels? He examined the stone guardians. There was a difference. These weren’t like the bronze or stone statues lining Icarthya’s parks or the interior of her churches. They were nothing like those within the palace, inlaid with gemstones. The scrunched faces with heavy brows were odd, though weather damage had removed a nose here, half a face there. Still, it was clear that each visage was malicious unlike the benevolent faces of Etruria, Fakir or Adal.

Threadfin lay down and rested for that half hour. His insides felt hollow, as though a giant hand had scooped out his withered guts. The old soldier nudged him with his boot when time was up. They vacated the clearing, moving uphill, back into the gloom of Tarl. At first, all Threadfin managed was a crawl. Felps, he’d noted, wore several tunics beneath his armour.

‘I can keep walking a lot longer than you,’ said Threadfin, wondering if that was true. He thought he was close to his limit already. ‘You’re going to need food and sleep, and shelter I suppose.’

‘A village, you mean.’

Civilisation instead of dreary forest, but if anyone recognised him for what he was, things might turn ugly. ‘Are there any near here?’

Pole handed Threadfin strips of dried kelp and fish. ‘I know you walking corpses need this stuff. Kept it hidden. Figured I might need to spirit you away.’ He then produced dried meat for himself and began chewing.

Threadfin sniffed at the stale seafood. It looked old, but he ate. They were stale and smelt of Pole rather than of the sea. He kept chewing but couldn’t taste, thankfully. He resisted an urge to hurl. Yes, definitely feeling odd. ‘It’s not true, you know.’

‘Eh?’

‘I’m not a walking corpse, or maggot spit, whatever that is, or a zombie, which don’t exist by the way. I’m half dead.’ Even the term undead wasn’t quite right, and to Threadfin’s mind a contradiction but whatever. Not like anyone cared.

‘You don’t breathe, do you?’

‘Well, no.’

‘Your heart doesn’t beat does it? There’s no blood in your veins, is there? What is it that keeps you up and moving about, anyhow?’

Threadfin didn’t answer, the argument lost. Smart bastard. ‘You planned on helping me all along.’ He hadn’t decided to trust the man, but he could play along. If necessary, he’d take the chance and run once he’d recovered a bit. ‘Why?’

The breather halted, and stared at him. ‘What happened to you back there, eh? Answer me that one. You had a whole other person coming out of you, only it didn’t look like a person. More like some sort of monster. Bet it’s why you don’t feel well, right?’

Threadfin picked at a maggot.

‘Well, then,’ said Pole. ‘Guess we both got secrets, don’t we?’ He grimaced and spat. ‘We’d best keep on. We’ve a rendezvous to keep.’

‘Hey now, I want to get clear of this forest. I’ve no interest in any rendezvous.’

‘I told you; I know someone who can answer your questions, and you never heard me say you had a choice.’

This time Threadfin shut his mouth, deciding not to point out that he had said exactly that. One way or another, he needed to lose this breather, though not before he found a way out of this Grim-hooded forest.