Lies of Descent by Troy Carrol Bucher

Author:Troy Carrol Bucher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2019-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

The two remaining gods, Sollus and Faen, are like twin boys who hate each other steering the same boat down a river. One wants to stop, and the other wants to know where the river ends, and neither of them holds a paddle.

—Okulu’tan Proverb

Chapter 21

Despite the bitter chill and weariness in his bones, Ky’lem continued to move, each step a battle between willpower and frozen death. While it was summer in the lands below, he’d climbed high enough to reach the frozen snow that never melted. He wasn’t dressed for the cold, and the icy wind burned his exposed skin. Over his shoulders, he carried the asha, wrapped in the wool saddle blanket he’d taken from the horse when it collapsed. His shoulders and legs burned, and his breath was short, but he kept moving. Ahead of him, the last rise taunted his tired body. At the top of the rise sat the Notch. From this close, he could see the line marking the narrow fissure in the rock that served as a passage over the spine of the mountains. A passage that would offer him and the asha shelter for a time and lead him into Esharii lands once more. To either side, snow-encrusted cliffs rose up toward clouded peaks.

Taking the High Sun Path through the Notch was always a gamble, even in summer, but the gray demons hadn’t ceased in their pursuit and had cut them off from Weeping Pass. They’d lost the horse escaping the gray men’s grasp, making any other route impossible. If he was going to make it to the Najalii as the okulu’tan commanded, this was his only option with her slowing him down. Before him, footsteps in the snow led toward the Notch. At least one of his desperate kinsmen had escaped and come this way.

Former kinsman. Now that he was chae’lon, he had no tribe. Regardless, he hoped it was a tribesman who’d made the tracks. There were dangers that walked on two legs in the mountains. More than one warrior had become a meal for a hungry merdon in these mountains. The snow beasts were a twisted blend of ape and pig that were far too humanlike in appearance for comfort and far too beastlike to ever garner sympathy. As good as he was with a sword, he didn’t want to face one of the great, lumbering beasts alone, especially when he’d already used up the last of his spirit paste.

Ky’lem paused long enough to kneel and brush at the edges of a footprint. There were no short scratches at the front to mark the tips of clawed toes, and the prints were soft, caving in at the slightest touch. Human . . . and recent. He checked a second print. It was slightly longer than the first. He rocked back on his heels and looked down the line of footsteps, taking in everything without concentrating on a single print. More than one was off size. Two men, then, with one following in the first man’s tracks.

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