The Pillars of Sand by Mark T. Barnes

Author:Mark T. Barnes
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Family Saga, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Sagas, Epic, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9781477819548
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2013-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Sometimes one will awaken, and realize they have traveled too far down a road for them to ever turn from it, despite knowing that other directions may lead to better outcomes.”

—from Honor and Loyalty, by Erebus fa Mahador, Knight-Lieutenant of the Petal Guard

Day 61 of the 496th Year of the Shrīanese Federation

Corajidin strode through the camp, squinting at the sun. He had not slept well, his head filled with the esoteric whispers of his Ancestors.

Feyd locked step with Corajidin and updated him on the latest reports: patrols not returning, and snatch-and-grab attacks by the wetlands Fenlings. Corajidin had heard the screams, and knew too well the Fenlings’ taste for living flesh. Soul Traders had been seen wandering the camp, windswept and cadaverous in their ages-old finery now turned to monochromatic rags. The skeletal ruin of their wind-galley hung low in the sky, reminiscent of an aged vulture.

“The ground is treacherous, and pretty much every living thing out there is happy to kill us, and quite capable of it,” Feyd said. “This is a sorry place to make war. The Soul Traders make everybody nervous. None of us understand who they may, or may not, steal at the moment of our death. We should send them on their way, Asrahn. They’re an abomination.”

“On the subject of the Soul Traders, I agree,” Corajidin replied. But the Emissary would take unkindly to me evicting them. Besides, are they any worse than the marsh-puppeteers, when all is said and done? Both are parasites who revel in death. “But there are larger concerns at play, and the Traders may yet prove beneficial. But we are not making war, Feyd, as much as we are taking control of resources vital to Shrīan’s survival. I will send a Letter of Intent to Siamak, registered with the Magistratum and the Arbiter’s Tribunal. We are as transparent in our mission as can be expected, Feyd.”

“Except for our breaking every tenet of sende by making war on the civilians of Fandra,” Feyd replied. “And then giving prisoners to the marsh-puppeteers, which was tantamount to execution, for which they had committed no crimes.”

“They took up arms against their Asrahn, Feyd!” I had never thought you to have a conscience, you wily old butcher. Perhaps your silence might best be bought by your eternal sleep, here in the mud. Corajidin smiled, though, and looked the man in the eye. “We will register our intent with the authorities. What we do here will be made right.”

Feyd looked unconvinced, yet remained silent as they arrived at the wind-skiff. Tahj-Shaheh was at the pilot’s station, and had spun up the Disentropy Spools and the Tempest Wheels. Corajidin stared at the way the spools threaded energy from the air around them, spinning dumbbells that reeled in gossamer strands as light as spiders’ silk. Nix waited there, skin and clothes the color of the marshlands, a stiletto spinning between his fingers. Kasraman, Wolfram, and Kimiya waited nearby, Wolfram’s former apprentice staring at Kasraman with what Corajidin took to be awe.

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