Pathfinder Tales- Lord of Runes by Dave Gross

Author:Dave Gross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, Epic, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9781466842632
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2015-06-01T23:00:00+00:00

12

The Cinderlands

Radovan

Two things I’ll always remember about Kazyah, who her people named “the Night Bear,” and not because she’s cuddly.

The first was helping her bury the oracle.

Three days east of Kaer Maga, she told Janneke to stop the carriage. While the others made camp, Kazyah took the oracle’s shrouded body in her arms and told me to bring as much water as I could carry.

Her asking me was a surprise. I figured she’d pick Eando. He was an honorary Shoanti, after all. So maybe the Sun and Skull Clans don’t mix. Maybe she didn’t like Pathfinders. Maybe she didn’t like the fact that he’d been cursed before the two books joined up and stuck to the boss. Whatever her reason, she chose me.

She carried the body in her arms, chanting in Shoanti from the first step away from the carriage. After a little while, I caught onto the words. Real quiet-like, I sang along with her. She nodded at me, so I sang a little louder.

The sun beat the hell out of us. It had to be worse for her, since she wore a big furry bear hat and cloak. Even so, she never asked for water. I didn’t feel like I should drink unless she did. I kept singing and tried not to think too much about how much my tongue was going to look like a scrap of old leather.

We walked for over an hour through rough red hills. Stone markers lay scattered on the ground everywhere. Most could have just tumbled there for I could tell, but a few had Shoanti runes carved on them. I couldn’t understand the signs, but Kazyah knew where she was going. She found the stone she was looking for and lay the old man’s body beside it.

Just as I was thinking we should have brought a shovel, Kazyah stuck out her hand and made a chopping motion. A line formed in the dirt, like the mark of a wave on the water. Dust blew up to either side, and the clay growled until it coughed up a grave-sized hole.

Kazyah told me to bring the water as she unwrapped the body. She washed the old man’s corpse, singing to him the whole time. The pain in her voice was as sharp as it had been the hour he died.

At last, she got me to climb into the hole. She passed his body to me, and I lay it as gently as I could at the bottom. She pulled me out like I weighed no more than a duck, reminding me she was strong as Janneke—stronger, maybe.

She filled the grave with another chant to the earth.

Afterward, she drank some water and tossed me the skin. I took a swig and passed it back. She cradled it in one arm, her other hand resting on its belly. I couldn’t help thinking of a mother and her baby.

She got up, and we walked away. She didn’t say anything, but since she wasn’t chanting, I figured it was all right to make small talk.

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