3: Fireside

They’d traveled for weeks to reach the Silvertusks. The journey had taken up the rest of the summer, and the aspens’ leaves had long turned gold. Acalan had chosen to venture ahead with Leiyn, Isla, and Batu, while the rest of his tribe trailed behind. Irritating as Isla and Batu’s romance was at times, Leiyn had begun to enjoy the easy companionship among their foursome. Their pace was quick, but not the forbidding march it had been during their journey south. Yet with war ahead and war rising around them, she could never be completely at ease.

Little trouble found them before the snow ape, yet signs of the Suncoats and their supporters abounded along the Frontier Road. Farmhouses burned out. Bodies swinging from trees and crucified at crossroads. Baltesian patrols—sometimes from the Southport militia, but mostly locals protecting their own—often passed, and many told tales of their encounters with their Ilberian counterparts.

Conflicts had even come to Folly’s stoop. When they stopped for a couple of days in the bordertown, Mayor Itzel had told them of all the local woes. A small company of Suncoats had briefly sieged the town, but had been driven away when a Baltesian company came to the fight. 

“The cowards ran,” Itzel grated, “but they’re still out there, somewhere. My soldiers will find them; they’ve sworn to it.”

Leiyn nodded, understanding her fervor. Tadeo, the man they’d each loved in their own way, had died at Suncoat hands. Until every last one of them was rooted out of the Tricolonies, there could be no peace in their hearts.

In Folly, she also realized her firstdawn had come and gone, leaving her twenty-six years old. It recalled to mind past celebrations at the Wilds Lodge: sugarcakes and honeywine brought up from the local villages and passed among the rangers, apprentices, and staff; Yolant’s music, more raucous than ever; Isla and her clumsy dancing, Old Nathan’s scowling, Gan’s outrageous flirting… Even as the memories made Leiyn smile, they cut deep. At night, cloistered in her room, she ran them through her mind and let the tears flow until they dried.

But once they left Folly, Leiyn hardened her heart again. Beyond the town lay the heart of the Titan Wilds. Always dangerous in their own right, they’d only grown more so with Suncoats on the loose. And there was also the Gasts’ mysterious war awaiting them, and whatever enemy lay behind it.

She was ready even before the snow ape found them in the mountains. Ready to hunt, to kill. But the rage that had always fueled her had dulled. When it found her, she remembered now all the blood she’d spilled and how it had only left her emptier. 

She would touch her auburn tress, the legacy of her mother. Touch Tadeo’s fox figurine, his final gift. Feel for Zuma’s spark deep within.

She knew the cost of war. Yet the wars had only just begun.

***

They made camp that night at the base of a cliff. Sheltered from the wind and with a campfire blazing merrily ahead, Leiyn was almost comfortable. Yet the encounter with the snow ape had stained her, body and soul. Its excess of lifeforce burned within; the stink of blood lingered on her clothes, despite a thorough washing in an icy river.

She forced the thoughts away, focusing instead on their surroundings. The tundra below had been bare to the eyes before darkness fell, but her mahia felt it to be otherwise. Shrubs defied winds so cold they froze Leiyn’s breath, rooting in the stony ground with stubborn glows. Marmots and pikas hid among boulder fields, invisible to all but her. When they had first arrived, their squeaking cries had sounded warning and provoked Leiyn and her party to smile. Now, the creatures had quieted and burrowed deep within their tunnels to wait out the night.

Leiyn shifted her gaze upward. She had only just begun drawing constellations when Acalan broke the silence. 

“Do you know the story of Leaping Stars?”

Lowering her gaze, she saw the chieftain was looking at Batu. When the former plainsrider shook his head, Acalan frowned.

“All should know of the Night Cloud. He is not of the stars, but the gentle light between them.” He pointed at the pale mist that backed a portion of the night sky. “His tale is of finding his own story, as we all must do.”

Wondering what had provoked this bout of loquacity, Leiyn held her tongue. Once, she had rejected Gast stories when Tadeo tried passing them on to her and Isla. Now, she was as eager as the others to hear it, if not more so. She had come north on a promise to aid Zuma’s people after a lifetime of hatred. Learning their myths seemed one small step toward absolution.

And Saints know I have much to atone for.

Acalan puffed on his pipe for a long moment. “Leaping Stars is a curious spirit. He is often drawn as a boy to show his mischievous nature. Long ago, when he was young and newly formed, he traveled to each constellation, wondering at what stories they held. Touching upon them, Leaping Stars witnessed the great deeds contained within. He learned of my people’s legends: of Chimalli of the Hill, the first to leash a kainox, a titan; of Ehetia of the Birch, who first brought the Many Tribes together; of Iuit of the Dam, the foremost ancestor of my tribe, whose friendship with the Copper Beaver saved us Tekuan from a great flood.”

Leiyn stared at the chieftain, thoughts churning. A copper beaver… As Acalan raised an eyebrow at her, she looked aside. It prodded at a part of her past that seemed too private to share.

“Leaping Stars,” the chieftain continued, “also entered the fables of his fellow spirits. He witnessed Tlalli’s birthing of herself and her creation of titans and humankind. He swam through the oceans with the first fish and rode draconions before any man or woman tamed one. The beginnings of all things were his fireside stories, and he rested full of their threads.”

“To see all that.” Isla wore a small smile, her eyes bright with reflected firelight like coals catching flame.

Acalan nodded. “Every wonder upon this world, Leaping Stars visited. Every story worth knowing, and some that were not, he took as his own. Perhaps mortals such as us would have long before tired of bearing witness and never acting, but not he. His appetite is insatiable, even now. So though he knows all that has been, Leaping Stars looks eagerly upon Tlalli, waiting for new tales to weave into constellations. So must we all strive to be worthy of his gaze.”

“A beautiful story,” Isla said, and Batu echoed the sentiment. As their eyes turned to Leiyn, she shifted uncomfortably.

“It was nice,” Leiyn managed. “But it seems unlikely, doesn’t it? A god just sitting around, watching humans stumble through life?”

Isla shook her head in disbelief, while Acalan drew on his pipe and almost smiled. “Leaping Stars is not a god,” he said, smoke leaking from between his lips. “He is not like your Omn, all-knowing and all-powerful. Beings such as he are beyond our complete understanding, the same as the kainox and other spirits. Perhaps it is the shortness of our lives that draws his interest, and how much we still accomplish. What else should draw his interest?”

Leiyn shrugged. Having seen things she couldn’t understand, how could she question his beliefs? Yet the tale seemed too large to accept.

The high pitch of Isla’s voice betrayed her discomfort as she intervened. “Batu, tell us a Kalgan story.” The young man’s brow creased, and Isla laughed. “Oh, don’t get tongue-tied! It’s just us.”

Batu sighed and huddled closer to the fire. “I can think of one, though the details…” He shook his head, but with all their gazes upon him, he soldiered on. “It’s about how Kalga first came to the Veiled Lands. Do you know it?”

Leiyn shook her head with the others. It was common knowledge that Kalga had been the first of the Ancestral Lands to visit this half of the world, but she had never heard the particulars.

Clearing his throat, Batu began in a low voice. “For many years, ships had sailed from Dominion across the western sea, wishing to see what lay on the other side. Each time, the Veil repelled them. A wall of fog reaching as high as the eye can see, it is said to be a thing alive. Ships that sailed into its depths never returned, and those that came near it spoke of horrors reaching out to claim their souls. Most believed it would never be crossed, and some thought it shouldn’t be—that demons lived on the other side, and this was the gods’ protection against them.”

Leiyn hid a smile. The more he spoke, the more confident Batu’s words became. He wasn’t as ineloquent as his timidity made him seem.

“Then came Gerel Chiru. A wisewoman of great renown, she requested of the reigning Hesh Jin to give her a boat so she could open a way through the Veil. The Hesh Jin was hesitant at first, but his respect for Gerel was great, so he relented to her wishes.”

“Was it respect, or greed for possible riches?” Leiyn muttered, only to be shushed by Isla.

Batu smiled and continued, all hesitancy gone. “Soon, the wisewoman sailed with the finest crew upon the Hesh Jin’s personal ship. Reaching the Veil, Gerel commanded them to anchor before it, refusing to believe the tales warning against it. With the Hesh Jin’s authority behind her, the crew obeyed, and Gerel sat at the bow, legs crossed and eyes closed, for twelve days and nights, communing with the spirits in the mists.”

Having gone half that time without sustenance, Leiyn again found protests rising within. Seeing Isla’s warning look, however, she swallowed them back down.

“On the thirteenth day, the wisewoman finally rose. The captain had believed her already dead, and with the crew suffering terrible dreams each night spent near the Veil, he had been about to turn back for shore. But upon seeing Gerel not only awake, but fully alive and standing, he bowed down before her, and all the men and women followed suit.

“Gerel paid them no heed. Facing the Veil, she raised her hands and said, ‘Demons, begone! I banish you from this world! Return to the hells from which you have risen!’ At once, the spirits obeyed, and the fog parted. For the first time, a passage through the Veil had formed. So it was that Kalga became the first to land upon the Veiled Lands’ shores, and so was Altan Gaz established.”

Batu blinked and raised his gaze from the fire, having stared at it all the while he spoke. Isla squeezed his shoulder, while Acalan frowned.

“And so was the Titan War begun,” the chieftain said in a low rumble.

Leiyn had her own doubts about the story’s truth, but she hid them behind a smile. “Still, a tale well told.”

“Yes, it was,” Isla added.

Batu gave Leiyn a small smile, then glanced askance at Isla. “And now it’s your turn.”

“Oh, I see—you must have your revenge.” Despite her words, Isla appeared far from dismayed as she looked each of them in the eye. “I have one suited to this dark, chill night. Leiyn, you’ll know it, but perhaps you two won’t: how Legion came to be.”

“Ah, Isla,” Leiyn said with a grin, “but you’ll scare them so they’ll never sleep!”

At Acalan’s quizzical look, Isla explained. “Legion was used as a story to keep children indoors and in their beds. Now, then… It begins with Blinding Omn’s creation of Unera. If you can accept the Catedrál version of events,” she added with a glance the chieftain’s way.

Acalan nodded and puffed on his pipe.

“Once, there was only Omn Almighty, and light filled every corner of existence. But in Its unknowable wisdom, the First sought to create something not entirely of Itself, and so Omn retracted Itself to the orb we know as the sun. But while this act allowed room for creation, it also gave birth to darkness.

“Omn formed our world and cast Its glow upon it, gifting us with the warmth and light we need to live. Though we cannot know Its intentions, it is believed Omn sought to make Unera a place of good and bounty. But beneath the surface, darkness had established deep roots. And when Omn gifted us with life, so, too, did demons take form.

“In tunnels and caves, in shade and shadows, these devils came together, seeking to become strong enough to challenge the light above. But despite their intentions, they could never truly merge, their natures being too chaotic. Thus, they became a many-minded creature, one that hated all that could tread the light it could not, and it was called Legion.

“To this day, it lives on. In the places Omn does not shine, there Legion walks. Beware dark paths, for these are Legion’s ways. All those who remain in the light, however, will be beyond his reach.”

Leiyn had kept the cold away through a gentle burning of her esse, but now it crept back in. She wrapped her arms around herself and repressed a shiver. It was all she could do not to stare fearfully into the surrounding darkness. Even held at bay by her lifesense, she couldn’t kill the instinctive fear of it. Yet it wasn’t enemies conjured from the night that disturbed her. Something lingered beneath the surface of her thoughts, an uneasiness she couldn’t place. 

“So this is why the darkness frightens you,” Acalan rumbled.

Looking up, Leiyn found him giving her a small smile. She barked a false laugh and rose. “That’s right. Which is why I’m eager to hide in my bedroll.”

“And just when it’s her turn,” Batu murmured. “Perhaps she is scared of something.”

“Oh, terrified.”

“Don’t you want a go, Leiyn?” Among their party, Isla alone frowned.

“Another night.” Leiyn gave a chagrined shrug. “Not feeling up to it just now.”

“If that’s how you feel…”

She looked aside, disliking to disappoint Isla, but unable to scrounge up any enthusiasm for the task. A heaviness had settled in her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to sit alone and think.

Soon, the others had dispersed and settled down for the night. Leiyn volunteered for the first watch, partly by way of apology, partly because she doubted she could yet sleep. Sitting back before the banked fire, she stared into the red embers with her mind muddled, keeping watch all the while through her lifesense.

But solitude wasn’t to be hers yet. Isla sat down next to her, facing out from the fire instead of in. Willowy as she was, she still shivered beneath her bundled furs.

“You’d be warmer huddled next to Batu,” Leiyn observed with a slight smile.

“I’m more worried about you.” Isla’s teeth chattered with every word. “Everything alright?”

Leiyn scooted closer to lend her body’s warmth. “Nothing time won’t mend.”

“Is this about the snow ape?”

She looked over to find Isla’s eye on her. “What do you mean?”

Isla stared out across the dark tundra. “After the attack, you seemed… sad, I suppose. I know you don’t like killing, even creatures that would kill you. Just know you couldn’t have done anything else. We fought to survive.”

“I know.” Her pulse quickened as she remembered the melee, remembered sucking the beast’s life into herself. “I don’t doubt it. Though… It hurts worse than it did before, killing. Because of my mahia.”

Isla extracted an arm from her wrappings to pull Leiyn into a side hug. “You’ll adapt. We rangers always do.”

Leiyn leaned into her for a moment before pulling away. She was about to insist that Isla return to her bedroll when the thought at the back of her mind crystallized.

“Do you still believe in the Saints? The stories of the Catedrál, of Omn and Legion—is any of it real?”

Isla was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know, really. I haven’t known what to believe for most of my life.” She gave her a lopsided smile. “Though having heretic parents makes you used to doubting.”

Leiyn nodded. Over the years, they had spoken often of Isla’s upbringing. Her parents’ denunciation of the Eyin religion—and, consequently, the authority of the Empire and its Sky Queen—had been a foundational part of it. Yet their personal beliefs had entered into the conversation less often. For Leiyn’s part, she’d always had doubts, but never known enough to feel convicted in them.

“In a lot of ways, though,” her friend continued, “it doesn’t matter if gods or spirits or demons exist. What counts is what we do with our lives, don’t you think? That we’re doing what we know to be good.”

“Sounds about right.”

She’d thought solitude was what she sought, but Isla’s words lifted the malaise. Perhaps she couldn’t parse the truth from falsities in myth and religion, but it didn’t change all she knew. She had friends by her side and a war to win. For now, questions of faith could wait.

“Thanks,” Leiyn murmured, squeezing Isla’s hand through the furs. “Now, you should really try to get some sleep.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Her friend rose and went to lie beside Batu. By Leiyn’s lifesense, she felt the former plainsrider turn over and wrap his arms around her. She only smiled at it. Their relationship, and how it naturally excluded her, no longer bothered her.

The mountains were cold and dark, but Leiyn didn’t feel alone anymore.

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