Blood Song

The Lonak barked a harsh laugh. “There is no freedom for him. He is varnish, defeated, destroyed, worth no more than dog shit to my people.” The man’s gaze was fixed on the boy now, a fierce implacable glower. “A fitting punishment for one who disobeys Her word, who allows his misplaced pride to blind him to his obeisance. Cut his bonds and he will wander here, weaponless, friendless, my people will shun him and he will find no shelter.”

His gaze swung back to Vaelin and he saw something more than anger there, a faint flicker of something hidden, told in the tension of his jaw and the set of his lips. Concern. He fears for the boy.

“If he’s mine,” Vaelin said, “then I may do with him as I wish?”

The Lonak’s eyes flicked back to the boy for an instant. He nodded.

“Then I give him to you. A gift of thanks for allowing me to cross your lands.”

The Lonak’s face remained impassive but Vaelin could read the relief in his eyes. “You

Merim Her are soft,” he sneered. “Weak and craven. Only your numbers give you strength, and that will not last forever. One day we will sweep you back to the sea and the waves will turn red with your blood.” He rose and went to the boy, using the boot knife to sever his bonds. “I’ll take your worthless gift, since it’s all you have to offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

Free of the ropes the boy was listless, sagging as the Lonak dragged him to his feet, whimpering as the big man slapped him awake with a chorus of curses in his own language. Once roused the boy’s gaze swung to Vaelin, the same hatred and bloodlust colouring his features once again. He bridled, tensing himself for another attack. The big Lonak struck him, a hard back-handed cuff across the face, drawing blood from his lip, then pushed him roughly to the waiting pony, hoisting him onto its back and pointing sternly back down the hill. The boy favoured Vaelin with a last glare of naked animosity before spurring away into the darkness.

The Lonak returned to the fire and reached for the dried beef once more, his face sombre as he ate.

“A good father suffers much for his son,” Vaelin observed.

The Lonak’s eyes flashed at him, the hostility shining once again. “Do not think there is a debt between us. Do not think you have bought passage through our lands with my son’s life. You live because She wishes it.”

“She?”

The Lonak shook his head in disgust. “You have fought us for centuries and you know so little of us. She

is our guide and our protection. She is our wisdom and our soul. She rules us and serves us.”

Vaelin recalled his dream-meeting with Nersus Sil Nin in the Martishe. What had she said about the Lonak? I should have known the High Priestess would find a way. “The High Priestess. She leads you?”

“High Priestess,” the Lonak spoke the words as if tasting unfamiliar fare. “As good a name as any. Your bastard tongue does not fit easily with our ways.”

“You speak my bastard tongue very well. Where did you learn it?”

The Lonak shrugged. “When we raid we take captives, although they have little uses. The men are too weak to work the seams for more than a season without perishing and the women bear sickly children. But once we took a man in a grey robe. Called himself Brother Kellin. He could heal and he could learn. Came to speak our tongue like his own in time, so I made him teach me his.”

“Where is he now?”

“Sickened last winter. He was old, we left him out in the snow.”

Vaelin was starting to understand why the Lonak were so widely despised. “So your High Priestess told you to let me pass?”

“Word came from the Mountain. One of the Merim Her would come alone into our lands, their greatest warrior seeking the blood of his brother. No harm will come to him.”

The blood of his brother…The High Priestess sees much it seems. “Why?”

“She does not explain. Words from the Mountain are not to be questioned.”

“And yet your son tried to kill me.”

“Boys seek renown in forbidden deeds. He had visions of defeating you and winning glory, the keenest sword of the Merim Her taken by his knife. How could I have angered the gods so that they visit me with a fool for a son?” He hawked and spat into the fire, glancing up at Vaelin. “Why did you spare him?”

“There was no need to kill him. Killing without need is against the Faith.”

“Brother Kellin spoke often of your faith, endless lies. How can a man have a creed but no god to punish him if he breaks it?”

“A god is a lie, and a man cannot be punished by a lie.”

The Lonak chewed some more beef and shook his head, he seemed almost sorrowful. “I have heard the voice of the fire god, Nishak, deep in the dark places under the smoking mountain. There was no lie in it.”

Fire god? Obviously the man had confused an echoing cavern for the voice of one of his gods. “What did he tell you?”