Glyphbinder Read online

  “How so?”

  “That glyph in my head. It made all I felt toward Kara burn ten times as hot. The attacker used a demon glyph, Trell, and one of the worst. The glyph of Balazel, Prince of Pain.”

  The ancient demon’s name sent a shiver down Trell’s spine, even without knowing the context. The name just sounded wrong. If soul glyphs were what desperate souls left as they crossed, as Kara had told him, what did that make demon glyphs?

  “Balazel hates like nothing our world has ever known, and I felt that hate. I hated Kara with a demon’s hate, and once you hate like that you can never be whole again.”

  Trell waited, and when no more unburdening came he took the opening. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It fits with the wreck I’ve made of my life. I can’t even think of hating Kara now. I’m afraid that if I do, even for a moment, Balazel will take my mind again.”

  Trell thumped his shoulder. “You seem too strong for that. Only a fool would sell himself so short.”

  Aryn smiled. “There was another who often spoke to me as you do, as a fellow man and a foolish one at that. He was my father’s sage. That’s why I like you. You speak your mind.”

  “I do not claim to be a sage, but I am always willing to listen.”

  “And I am always willing to talk.” Aryn pulled on his pack and picked up as much wood as he could manage. “As you’ve probably figured out by now.”

  “I don’t mind listening.” Trell picked up his share as well.

  “Good, because you’ll probably be doing a lot of that on this trip. I don’t know if I’ll return to Solyr after we reach Tarna. I don’t know what I plan to do now.”

  “You graduated, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t found a mentor. I graduated last in my school, and there’s only so much call for certified Firebrands. The only place I’d find employment is in the army, and I’d rather not burn people to death for a living.” He winced when he said that. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Trell assured him. They were making good time back to the camp, to the others, so he slowed just a bit.

  “Anyway…” Aryn hesitated, glancing around, “I’d like to gather firewood tomorrow as well, if you’re willing. I plan to help Kara however I can. If she won’t take that help or consider my advice, I’m hoping she’ll at least listen to you.”

  “Of course.” Trell found Aryn easy to read, and he read nothing of treachery or ill will. “Though the others may begin to wonder at your ability to see in the dark.”

  Aryn chuckled as they approached the flickering campfire. “They’ve wondered far worse.”

  THE FEEL OF TRELL’S HAND gently squeezing her shoulder woke Kara at noon. He was already walking away when she stretched, yawning loudly. She felt like she had not slept at all, and despite the transfusion she had received at Solyr she still felt weaker than normal. She knew it would be another day before she fully recovered from her fight in Solyr’s central square.

  Dreams had plagued her all night. In some of them Aryn chased her, his eyes glowing with flame. In others, an invisible man had her by the throat. The worst were the ones where Trell followed her, begging her to give him his memories back.

  Kara knew what these dreams were — nerves, brought on by worries about the Tellvan battlemage who wanted to kidnap her. Even so, fitful sleep annoyed her at the best of times. If the dreams continued, she would ask Sera for a glyph to stop them.

  Kara felt for the bulk of the Thinking Tree’s acorn inside her robe, in the pouch inside her shirt. She had slept with it, not daring to remove the pouch for even a moment. She had dug it up in the few moments she had to herself before they left Solyr.

  The ground remains of the other reagents were in the pouch as well — a boar’s heart, the wing of a dead fairy, and a kir root. If anyone found them, Kara would simply say they were a present for Adept Anylus. That seemed as elegant a lie as any, but really, she saw no reason anyone would be getting inside her shirt.

  Birdsong was rampant. The air felt chill in comparison to her warm bedroll, but Kara wriggled out of it and stood, her leg muscles tight and sore. She tightened her cloak, pulled on her boots, and donned her suffocating veil. She hated how it itched at her nose.

  Byn stoked the fire as Jair tended a cooking frame over the fire pit, and the enticing aroma of meat strips opened Kara’s eyes. She quickly discovered they tasted even better than they smelled. She was going to miss academy food, but she supposed Tarna would be just as nice. Eating was a simple pleasure she had always enjoyed.

  Soon they were riding again, the morning’s meal heavy in her stomach. Kara led the way on Charger, a dark gelding of which she was already quite fond. Aryn sat half-slumped in Spirit’s saddle, barely awake, and Kara wondered if his dreams had matched hers.

  She took to the dream world often, wary of bandits. She searched for human life hiding behind trees or in the carpets of reddish-brown leaves, just one more reason few people robbed mages. That, and the fact that they sometimes got their faces burned off.

  Despite their careful pace, they were making good time through the Brecken Woods. The sun had descended halfway to the horizon when they exited the easy, well-worn path. Kara yawned and rubbed at her dry, itching eyes. She looked forward to sleeping again.

  “How close are we to Garn?” Jair called from the wagon.

  Kara closed her eyes and drew upon the map Elder Gell had burned into her head. Garn was a small trading post built by an offshoot of the Layn, and its residents were primarily trappers and foresters. They would reach it before sundown.

  “Less than a half day,” Kara called back. “Keep moving.” As they rode Trell caught up, and she smiled at him. “How did you sleep?”

  “About the same as you, I think.”

  “Bad dreams?”

  “Frustrating dreams. Everyone was a shadow, just like what I saw on the Crystal Flats.”

  Kara felt a flush and was suddenly very glad for her veil. She was hiding the truth from Trell, after all. About mages wiping memories. That made her feel like a terrible person.

  “I’m sorry it’s been so difficult for you.” That sounded lame, even to her, but what else could she say?

  “It’s not just difficult. The things that are missing ... no, the way they are missing ... it doesn’t seem natural.”

  So he had figured it out. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what’s missing seems so oddly specific. I can’t remember the names of the shadows or see their faces, but I know exactly how I feel about them. I can’t see where I’m walking or remember where I am, but I can feel the warm sun on my skin and taste sand in the air. Can mages alter memories? Do you think one altered mine?”

  “It is possible.” Kara refused to lie to him any more than already necessary. “To change memories or erase them. I just wish I knew more about what happened to you.”

  “A mage did this. I see no other possibility. My question now is, why? Why erase my memories? Did I come here looking to find you? Why, when my purpose seemed to be taking Layn Keep?”

  Kara remembered the caution Halde had given her, the trust he had placed in her hands. Yet when she looked into Trell’s wide blue eyes, none of that mattered. Halde wasn’t here, and Trell was.

  “Trell, I think you’re right. I didn’t say anything before because I have no bloody idea why someone would take your memories, or even how they would do it. There are no signs of tampering inside your head. Landra looked everywhere.”

  Trell furrowed his brow. “Everywhere?”

  “Yes. Bloodmenders can search for tampering, especially those as talented as Landra. They can enhance forgotten memories and change existing ones, but they cannot erase them. There’s always a trace. A memory is like a charcoal sketch on parchment. You can change the lines, blur them, and scrub them until they’re nothing but a stain, but you’ll never bring back that blank white page.”

  Trell’s eyes narrowed above his veil. “There were no scr
ub marks inside my head.”

  “That’s why it’s so damnably difficult to say if your memories were taken or not. So far as we know, there’s no one alive in the Five Provinces who could do such a thing.”

  Kara had not mentioned the graybacks, the Thinking Trees, or the way he walked on a broken leg, but she had said far more than Halde would have liked. Halde was right about one thing — until she understood what glyphs had been scribed on Trell, there was no point in speculating. Doing so would only worry or confuse him.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” Trell said quietly. “When I asked you in the recovery room why you trusted me, you told me it was because you were a good judge of people. You are not alone in that. I trust you with my life.”

  Kara looked at him with eyes wide. “Trell, I—”

  He stiffened. “Stop!”

  Kara jerked in her saddle. She twisted forward just in time to see what had alarmed him. Her breakfast rose in her throat.

  A wooden signpost stood at a fork in the distance, but it was the things hanging from it that turned her stomach. A man and a woman, stripped naked and pale as sheets on a line. Their blackened fingers were clenched and crusted with dried blood. Their eyes were missing, plucked out by hungry crows or something far worse. Their mouths hung open wider than any mouth should.

  Kara did not know who they were, but she knew they had died recently. She knew they had died in horrific pain. The dozens of lacerations on their naked bodies made that chillingly clear. She tried to breathe and found she couldn’t.

  Jair leapt from the wagon and marched forward.

  “Drown me in burning oil,” Byn whispered as he halted his horse beside theirs. “Are those—”

  “The woman’s name was Starra Meifang.” Jair walked past the line of horses, on foot. “That was her husband, Murren. Ten years married. They lived in Taven’s Hamlet with two children, Ranna and Cho. Ranna watched something drag her parents into the night.”

  “Are they still here?” Kara heard her voice shaking and didn’t care. “Can they tell you who did this to them?”

  “Only Ranna.” Jair’s voice had that distant, flat tone again. “She and Cho came to find their parents, but Cho fell into a ravine. Ranna couldn’t get him out. She came here looking for help and safety. Instead, she found the monster that tortured her parents to death.”

  Jair’s hand went to his forehead. He fell to one knee. Kara dropped off Charger in a moment and Trell and Byn dropped off their geldings as well. Kara reached Jair first and helped him stand up. He turned to them, eyes wet.

  “What happened to her, Jair?” Byn demanded. “What happened to Ranna?”

  “The monster murdered her. She died with only a moment of pain. She saw nothing but a flash of yellow teeth.”

  Byn breathed deep. “Thank the Five.”

  “The Five had nothing to do with this. The horrors Ranna witnessed are tormenting her spirit, making it impossible for her to find where she needs to be. I’m going to help her find Cho and send them both to their parents. It will take some time.”

  Sera and Aryn had both joined them while Jair spoke. Sera refused to look at the bodies, wet eyes focused on the earth. Kara decided right then to hug her. Aryn walked for the signpost.

  Kara glanced at him and frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “To cut them down.” Aryn pulled a small glittering blade from beneath his cloak. “We’re going to bury them.”

  After Aryn cut down the two murdered villagers, it took Kara only a little while to find Ranna’s body. A dead little girl buried in leaves. They could not find Cho.

  Trell and Byn dug the graves while Sera helped Kara wrap all three bodies in the sheets they had slept in the night before. As they worked, Jair knelt in silence and Aryn paced with his quarterstaff ready, watching both ends of the road for trouble.

  Aryn joined them once Byn tamped the last of the dirt on Ranna’s grave. Kara had found only one shovel in the wagon and Byn and Trell had passed it between them, working constantly. Sera placed rocks on each grave, forming simple, unnamed cairns.

  “Ranna and Cho have joined their parents.” Jair rose and looked at Kara. “Where do we go now?”

  Kara had been dreading the question. “Taven’s Hamlet.”

  Byn grimaced. “You think whoever murdered them is there?”

  “Perhaps. If they lived there for ten years, someone will know them. Someone should be told.”

  “It’s out of our way,” Aryn said. “It’ll put us a day behind, if we even get there before nightfall. It also takes us close to Tellvan.”

  Kara frowned at him and Aryn raised his hands.

  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t go. That’s your decision. I just want you to remember that a Tellvan mage is still out there, hunting you.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Byn said. “If it were me up there, I’d want someone to tell my friends and family.”

  Kara hated this decision. Aryn’s concerns made a great deal of sense, even if she didn’t like it. Yet she couldn’t stop imagining Sera, naked and savaged up on that post. Or her mother.

  “Trell?” She glanced at him. “What do you think we should do?”

  Trell shrugged. “Aryn is right. We’ve given them a proper burial and Jair has set their souls to rights. Whoever hunts you has proven they are clever, dangerous, and far too inventive for my liking. Every moment we delay is another chance they will discover us.”

  “We’re going to Taven’s Hamlet,” Sera said. Loudly.

  Kara looked at her. So did everyone else.

  “These people were a family, and someone murdered them and hung their bodies from a signpost. That cannot stand.” Sera looked at each of them in turn. “When we came to Solyr, we swore to defend the Five Provinces and its people.”

  Once she saw she had their attention, Sera turned her gaze to Trell. “You and Aryn may be right about the danger. That doesn’t mean we can just ignore what happened here.”

  “I didn’t say we should,” Trell replied softly.

  “I know, but Kara’s instinct is right. More importantly, whoever did this is still out there. Taven’s Hamlet is home to dozens of families like this one. All of them could be in danger.”

  “We’re agreed.” Byn clapped Kara on the back. “Taven’s Hamlet.”

  “All right,” Kara said. As she made a decision she hoped wouldn’t get them murdered. Soon they were on their way.

  The wheels of Jair’s wagon rumbled over loose cobblestones and crunched chunks of dried mud. They rode as they had the night before, Byn, Kara, and Trell ahead, with Aryn trailing behind.

  Kara glanced often at her friends, the people whose lives were now in her hands. Tarna offered safety, and she was leading them away from it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Halde had told her in Solyr’s Memorial Garden.

  Their world was once more turning toward the Underside. It had been doing so for the last ten years. After they reached Taven’s Hamlet, Kara would contact Elder Halde through the echo stone.

  Robbery was inevitable on Mynt’s many roads and people were sometimes murdered, but no one stripped them naked and hung their bodies from signposts.

  Not since the days of the Demonkin.

  Chapter 12

  KARA AND HER DYN ENCOUNTERED the first wagon shortly after they left the fork. It held baskets of apples, still fresh. A man with a pocked face and brown hair sat against it, blood crusted around his throat. It did not take long to bury him.

  They passed another wreck soon after. A fine carriage had been turned on its side. The axle beneath it had snapped, and two of its ironbound wheels were broken. There was nothing inside but blood.

  The final wreck they passed was little more than a wheelbarrow with a harness lying in the mud. They saw no sign of the owner or of the animal that had pulled it. There were no footprints or blood anywhere in evidence. Just threadbare clothes and boots.

  “Jair!” Kara yelled up to him as they rode. “Anything?”r />
  “I see no one!” Jair had to shout over the team, the wagon, and the distance. “These souls have moved on!”

  The sun was setting when they crested the small hill overlooking Taven’s Hamlet. The town sprawled out below them all at once, and it was everything Kara had feared. Smoke still rose from the ruins.

  Even from the hill Kara could see that the homes had once been oak and brick, with fitted roofs of wooden tile. Those that still stood were charred and smoking. Others had been demolished, as if some giant palm had slammed down on them from above.

  Worse yet were the bodies, hundreds of them, filling the wet dirt roads between houses. They looked like pale needles drowning in mud, people and animals cut down like wheat. The crows were a sea of tiny black bodies pecking, tearing, swallowing. Feasting.

  Someone had planted a banner inside the open archway of the wall. It bore a pair of snakes coiled around each other, their opened mouths revealing fang-like swords. Kara knew who it represented.

  “Tellvan bastards!” Byn glared down at the devastated hamlet. “They killed them. They killed everyone!”

  “No,” Trell said.

  “What do you mean, no? These were your soldiers, Trell! Your bastards!”

  “Tellvan soldiers would not do this.” Trell clenched his hands around his mare’s reins. Leather crackled.

  “How can you know that?” Byn slid off his horse and stormed toward Trell. “Were you with the army that did this? Would you even remember if you were?”

  “Stop it.” Aryn dropped off his horse and stepped between them. “Trell’s right. All Tellvan who take up arms for the Seven Sheiks swear an oath by the Five. It’s called the Cairn Teyn, and it forbids them from killing civilians in time of war. It’s been their law since Warchief Tannerman slaughtered the people of Jahara.”

  “That’s right.” Kara remembered Warchief Tannerman from tomes devoted to Tellvan history, a ruthless man who had threatened the Tellvan in Torn’s time. “Byn, he’s right. Calm down.”

  The Cairn Teyn was but a fraction of the knowledge she had been expected to master as the royal apprentice. The sight of so many dead people had temporarily robbed her of her ability to think. How in the Six Seas did Aryn keep it all straight?