Daughter of Llathe: A Tale of the Two Rings (Tales of the Two Rings) Read online

  Daughter of Llathe

  A Tale of the Two Rings

  By

  Ben Cassidy

  Copyright 2013 by Ben Cassidy

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2013

  Books in the Chronicles of Zanthora:

  Ghostwalker

  Throne of Llewyllan

  Soulbinder

  Demonbane

  Oracle

  Redemption

  The Raven in the Sea (Coming Soon)

  Tales of the Two Rings

  Daughter of Llathe: A Tale of the Two Rings

  Tales of the Two Rings: Volume 1

  Tales of the Two Rings Volume 2

  To join an email update listserv for future releases, contact:

  [email protected]

  Dedicated to the members of the Columbia River Christian Writers,

  For all their advice, criticism, and encouragement

  The dala fruit field was a disaster. That was the first sign something was wrong.

  Nali pulled her greelak up at the edge of the field, right where the rainforest began to thin and give way to the flooded ground. The beast gave a low, mournful cry through its beaked mouth, and its long tail lashed back and forth.

  Nali reached down and patted her lizard-mount gently on its neck. “Hush, Kili,” she murmured.

  She swept her eyes over the field, her sharp sight catching subtle details even in the darkness of the Long Night. Everywhere she looked vines were overthrown and half-eaten fruit was scattered in the calf-deep water. Whole trellises were knocked over or simply shattered into pieces.

  Beasts had been in the field for tens of watches. Perhaps longer. At this point at least half the crop looked to be lost.

  Kili snuffed about in the water and snatched a dala fruit up in his beak.

  Nali made no move to stop him. Her eyes flicked to the black shape of the wooden watchtower which stood in the middle of the flooded field. It was dark, and appeared empty.

  There should be at least two watchwomen there.

  She pulled the peaked hood of her lizardskin cloak further over her face to guard against the pouring rain, then gave Kili a gentle nudge. The beast obediently lumbered forward into the water, its four feet sloshing across the flooded field.

  Nali loosened her shard rifle from where it was strapped over her shoulder, and quickly undid the cord that held the lizardskin cover over the weapon’s muzzle. She yanked the cover free and cradled the rifle in her arms as they approached the watchtower.

  As they moved her gaze moved restlessly over the field, peering through the falling rain for any sign of movement. She hated to be in the open like this, exposed and vulnerable. The sound of the warm rain plopping into the water made it difficult to hear, and even Nali’s trained eyes had difficulty seeing far through the gloom.

  The watchtower loomed up before the rider and her mount. There was no sign of movement inside and no hail as she approached.

  Nali slid off the greelak’s back, the shard rifle still in her hands. Her bare feet sank into the tepid water of the field, the rain pattering off the waterproof lizardskin cloak that covered her scantily-dressed form. Aside from a lizardskin loincloth and one golden anklet she wore nothing at all.

  “Bright Star guide you!” she called out, cupping one hand over her mouth.

  There was no reply.

  Nali touched the crossbelt of lizardskin-wrapped shard cartridges across her chest, reassuring herself they were still there. The curved throwing knife at her hip was in easy reach as well.

  The greelak shuffled nervously, snuffling around in the falling rain for another dala fruit.

  Nali strapped the rifle over her shoulder again and climbed up the ladder. Her lithe, green form moved swiftly up the rungs. She entered the watchtower through the trap door.

  The watchtower was empty. There were no bodies, no sign of a struggle or disturbance, but also no indication that anyone had manned the post for some time.

  Nali frowned, unslung her rifle and moved to the railing. She pushed her shoulder-length red hair back and looked out over the field in all directions, the gun held at the ready. The rain drummed ceaselessly on the roof above her.

  This wasn’t right. Something here was wrong, terribly wrong.

  There was a quick flash of movement in the dark, a shifting of shadows at the far edge of the field.

  Nali whipped the rifle up to her shoulder, scanning the treeline. For several long seconds she tracked down the barrel of the shard gun, searching for some other sign of life.

  There was nothing.

  She slowly lowered the rifle, biting her lip. A deathstalker, perhaps? Usually they were too smart to venture into an open dala field. Or was it just her mind playing tricks on her?

  The village of Veel’na was less than half a watch’s journey away, just four hours or so to the northeast. That should be her next stop. She would undoubtedly get answers there, one way or another.

  She shouldered her rifle again and turned to the ladder.

  “Halt!” came the voice from out of the falling rain. “Who passes?”

  Nali pulled her mount to a halt, and raised her hands high into the air. “My name is Nali,” she said calmly. “I am a Wayfinder.”

  There was a pause. Nali waited patiently in the darkness, her hands still raised.

  “How many are with you?” There was fear in the voice.

  “Just me,” Nali responded.

  Another long pause, this time for several seconds.

  Normally a village in the lowlands posted guards at its perimeters, and Nali was relieved to find watchwomen here at Veel’na. But this level of suspicion was highly unusual. Nali had already declared herself, and was in plain view on the trail.

  “Wait a moment,” came the belated answer.

  A guard stepped out into view about sixty feet above Nali’s head, on a walkway attached to the side of one of the enormous ugala trees that dotted the rainforest. Like Nali, she wore a body-length lizardskin cloak to shield her from the near-constant rain.

  A second later a rope ladder dropped down to the ground, swaying from where it hung off the walkway

  Nali dismounted, giving her greelak a reassuring scratch. “Stay here, Kili,” she whispered.

  The beast gave a long, sorrowful moan.

  Nali moved to the ladder and climbed quickly up the twisting rungs. She pulled herself up onto the walkway, shaking the raindrops from her hood.

  “Bright Star guide you,” she said, putting a clenched fist over her heart.

  The guard returned the salute, nodding her head as well. “And you.” She was wearing a full set of armor under the cloak, including a crested helmet. The metal was tinted blue and fringed in white, the colors of the Azure Hawks, a group of Gar’Noomren mercenaries. A shard rifle was looped over the guard’s shoulder, and a short sword was sheathed at her belt.

  Nali scowled. She had hoped to find Tal’Noomren from House Jaela here in the village. Instead Jalara Hesdeen, the ruler of House Jaela, had apparently hired out mercenary Gars to protect the town and the nearby plantations. It was a common enough tactic of the Noble Houses, especially for outlying towns and settlements in the lowlands where it wasn’t considered prestigious enough for regular House Tals to be posted.

  “You’ve left the dala fields u
nguarded,” said Nali. “The crop may already be a total loss. Where’s your commander? I need to speak with her now.”

  “Right here.”

  Nali turned, seeing another woman in blue armor approach. Unlike the first guard, she wore no helmet and her intricately braided black hair fell down over one shoulder. Her skin was a dark shade of red.

  “You’re Nevagan,” Nali said without thinking.

  “I’m also a Gar’Mel,” the warrior responded sharply, “and you will address me as such. My name is Leela. Who are you?”

  Nali bit back a nasty response. “Nali. The fields are unguarded, Gar’Mel. Why are there no watchwomen at their posts?”

  Two other Gar’Noomren in the blue and white armor of the Azure Hawks stepped up behind the Nevagan Gar’Mel. Like Nali and all other native-born Llathese, their skin was green, making the Nevagan’s red tone stand out even more.

  “How many others are with you?” Leela said, crossing to the railing of the walkway as she peered down to the path below. “Did you bring Tals?”

  Nali glanced uncertainly at the other Gar’Noomren. Other faces were starting to appear on nearby walkways and suspension bridges above them, inhabitants of the tree-village who were straining to overhear the conversation.

  “I came alone,” Nali repeated. She pushed back the hood from her head, the walkway covered from the driving rain. “I’ve been three weeks out from Reteel. I was told that you—”

  Leela turned sharply, her face hard as granite. “You brought no reinforcements?”

  “The last message we got from you indicated that you were having some trouble from a rogue karanos. I was sent to help you track it down.” Nali looked from face to face, reading barely-hidden despair on the countenances of the Gars. “What’s going on here? Has there been an attack of some kind? Slavers?”

  Leela looked over at the guard who had lowered the ladder. “See to the Wayfinder’s greelak,” she said. “Put it in the east stable.” She motioned back to one of the Azure Hawks behind her. “Go with her, Too’na. Report back to me when you are done.”

  Nali glanced at the mercenary captain. “Kili is a docile beast. There’s no need to send two Gars to corral him. A slave will suffice.”

  Leela nodded at the two Gars as if Nali had not even spoken. “Go quickly,” she said.

  More faces stared down at them from the upper walkways, and peered out of windows cut high in the hollowed-out ugala trees.

  Nali felt a shiver run down her back. The village was terrified of something. She could read the fear on their faces even through the darkness and the falling rain.

  Leela looked back at Nali. “Come,” she said. “We have much to discuss.”

  Nali’s dread grew with each passing moment as she walked across the wooden planks and swinging rope bridges of the treetop village. Gar’Mel Leela walked ahead, leading the way to the central hall.

  Faces continued to stare out at her from windows and from behind corners, silent visages that spoke terror mingled with desperate hope at each glance.

  Gar’Mel Leela reached the central hall, the largest tree in the village. She gestured towards the entrance, then stepped inside the wide door.

  Nali followed. The bright, comforting glow of numerous sunglobes washed over her like an Ardelan sunrise. She closed her eyes a moment, feeling the light penetrate past her eyelids and soak into her body. She had been too long in the dark.

  Leela turned and hung her dripping cloak on a peg against the inside tree wall. She looked over at Nali. “Are you all right, Wayfinder?”

  Nali opened her eyes, blinking in the glare. It was a welcome feeling. “Sorry,” she managed. “I am just…adjusting.”

  Leela held out a hand for Nali’s cloak, which she took and hung next to her own. The Gar’Mel reached over to a small alcove in the wall and touched a carved wooden idol of the goddess Moraana, a naked woman holding a star in one hand and a goblet in the other. She bowed her head for a moment, then gestured to a nearby passageway. “Follow me.”

  Nali leaned her rifle against the wall, then pressed two of her fingers against a similar but smaller wooden figure of Moraana that hung from a leather strap around her neck. She followed Leela and touched the idol set in the wall with the same two fingers as she passed.

  The room they entered was large. A round wooden table dominated its center. Against the wall were weapon racks, a map of the surrounding area, and the stretched hides of several lowland beasts.

  Leela walked to a small cabinet and pulled out a blue crystal bottle of Kolan-make. “Unfortunately we have no eel oil to offer. Would you like chilltang?”

  Nali took a seat at the table, continuing to bask in the blazing light of the many sunglobes set into the walls. “Yes. But I would like even more to know what in the worlds is going on here.”

  Leela gave her a sharp look, then poured the dark red juice from the bottle into two stone cups. “I had hoped that more warriors would come,” she commented as she poured.

  “So you’ve said,” said Nali. She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Has the karanos struck again? If you needed more assistance you should have—”

  “Since you left Reteel I have sent four additional messengers,” Leela responded coolly. “We have already found the bodies of two of them.”

  Nali stared at the Gar’Mel.

  At the doorway to the room one of the Gar’Noomren appeared, bowing slightly. “The Wayfinder’s greelak is stabled, Gar’Mel.”

  Leela nodded. “Excellent. Bright Star guide you, Too’na.”

  The warrior put a clenched fist over her heart. “Bright Star guide you, Gar’Mel.” She disappeared.

  Nali brushed a damp strand of hair out of her face. “The report we received at Reteel said you had lost two people to a karanos. Has it struck again?”

  Leela pushed one of the cups over to Nali. “Wayfinder, we have lost forty-three people in the last six weeks.”

  Nali’s hand froze on the cup. “Forty-three?”

  Leela sat down and took a sip of the chilltang. “That we know of. I suspect the other two messengers are dead as well, even though we haven’t found their bodies yet. I stopped the long patrols more than a week ago.” She looked up at Nali, her eyes hollow. “We have lost slaves, freewomen, seven of my Gars…” she paused, her face drained and pale, “and eight children.”

  Nali felt a cold like ice settle in her stomach. The chilltang lay forgotten on the table before her. “This is no karanos,” she said at last.

  “On that we are agreed,” Leela said with a mirthless smile. “The first bodies we found had no wounds we could find. Even still, our first guess was that a karanos had somehow killed them and been scared off before it could feed. But as the number of victims increased, watch after watch, we began to realize that another creature was at work, something far more intelligent. Anyone who left the village was soon found dead. The bodies were uneaten, the blood still in them. When I called in the slaves and watchwomen from the plantations, it began to kill my patrolling Gars. When I stopped the long patrols, it began to strike close to the village, killing anyone who ventured outside away from others. Its appetite has been insatiable. It appears intent on killing us all one by one.”

  Nali’s mind raced, still numbed from the horror of what she was hearing. “Mist-men?”

  “We have seen no sign of them,” Leela said, “and they have never been seen in this area of the lowlands before. Nor is it the Chala’Kai.”

  “Fleshtearers would eat the body,” Nali said, thinking aloud. “Deathstalkers too. But no karanos would—”

  “No,” agreed the Gar’Mel. “And they never kill this many at once. This is something intelligent. And evil.”

  “Surely there were tracks around the bodies, some indication as to what kind of beast this was?”

  Leela shook her head. “We have many hunters in this village, and none have found any tracks of any creature we know. Each body we have found showed no sign of a struggle
. Even the guns the Gars carried were still loaded and unfired.”

  Nali felt a shiver snake down her back. “How long here until Daycome?”

  Leela drained the rest of the chilltang. “One hundred forty-one watches. Forty-seven standard rotations.”

  Nali had thought as much. More than a month and a half until the night lifted, then, by Ardelan reckoning. A single rotation of Llathe was actually slightly longer than the planet’s solar rotation, dividing a single planetary cycle into a Long Night of almost four months and a day that lasted just as long. It certainly took some getting used to, and the concept of Ardelan rotations where the sun rose and set every three watches was impossible to conceive of on the slow-turning world of Llathe.

  “It might be nocturnal,” Nali reasoned. She was mentally listing each inhabitant of the lowlands known in Wayfinder lore. None fit. “When day comes it may stop.”

  “It might,” Leela conceded. “However if it continues to kill at this rate none of us will survive the Long Night.”

  “We need to leave then,” Nali said abruptly. “At once.”

  “And where would we go?” Leela’s eyes, darkened from lack of sleep, looked mockingly at the Wayfinder. “The nearest village is more than a week’s travel away, and that is for healthy Gars. With slaves and children we would be going at a bristlespine’s pace across the lowlands during Long Night. If the bloomdeath didn’t kill us all the deathstalkers would.” The Gar’Mel gave a bitter smile. “We do not all have your woodcraft, Wayfinder.”

  “A message, then,” Nali blurted. “If a floatship—”

  “Do you think I have not tried?” Leela’s eyes blazed with fire, though her voice remained level. “I sent a messenger to Reteel more than three weeks ago. If she had arrived, a floatship would already have come. Two other messengers were dispatched to Han’zal. Both of them we found dead not more than five miles from the village.” Leela sank back into her chair, a defeated look falling over her face. “One I even sent east, across the Basin.”