Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Thirty-seven souls remained of the two hundred that had left the Riverlands. The bitter wind of the North nipped at their bare bodies as they climbed the steep rocks. Behind them lay a long road of bitter tears and hardship that had claimed so many, but the path ahead was a mystery still to the Shaman.
A number of their own tribe had come this way not so long ago; she saw their journey in her mind's eye. However, the weather had turned sour and then malevolent before they could meet the comfort of the distant mountain. Even that was no safe bet; the tribe that pursued them had made the Blood Mark upon the ground between their lands and it had only one meaning: death to them all, at all costs.
Eldest among them, she had been a rock for the wayward people, a promise of a better life and the surety of her visions. They trusted their lives to her in spite of all that had happened. Many days earlier, she had swallowed her pride and her honor; the lie of prophecy was a shameful price to pay to keep them going. Strange lights in the sky had confused her and frightened the tribe. The Shaman, however, with calm authority, assured them that the sky was not falling and no ancient evil had awakened. Yet to her eyes, it appeared as if it was. Great balls of fire descended in the distance, and they could hear the claps of odd thunder rolling over the hills.
Most of her tribe was Unmarked, meaning their scales were tan and brown with short stripes of black from their heads to their tails; their undersides consisting of softer scale and lighter tone. Like all other known tribes, only the males had shimmering patches of reds and blues on their necks and cheeks; the most prized had the brightest colors that almost glowed when the light hit them just right. Females of their kind, the Upright People, were larger and had more muscle to carry out the tasks of the tribe between the seasons of motherhood. They made war, hunted, and built the lodges, but the Hollow Reed Tribe was different in allowing their menfolk to hunt, fish, and scout.
Some of them, a modest few, had been Marked by the Goddess herself. Their scales danced with purple and splashes of red; the most holy few were deeply colored by Her hand, and the Shaman had been so blessed. Only the tip of her long tail and her limbs past the joints were mundane. When she was born, it was said that these were the places that the Goddess had held while she dipped the soul into the spring of all creation. Magical powers were attributed to the Marked Ones, but those tribes without such blessed souls in their ranks coveted such power.
When the Low People of the sea came, they saw how many of her tribe had been Marked, and envy ate their hearts. They seemed to love the chase and the hunt, but they had more than lust for blood and conquest. War came easy to them even at the best of times, but they were frenzied with greed and abandoned caution. When the Hollow Reed Tribe denied them, they descended upon the walls of the village with ravenous fury, and soon the only choice was to flee where the Low People could not go.
Looking back at the weary travelers coming into the valley, the Shaman sighed. Their scales, once gleaming, were now dulled by exhaustion and fear. A prayer escaped her lips, carried away by the wind as flakes of white fell from the fiery sky.
CHAPTER ONE
Venka clamored up the steep cliff with a thicket of throwing bolts nestled between her sharp teeth, the taste of the old reeds of home drenching her tongue. Game was up top; she could smell the tanchoka herd as she snorted in air during her arduous journey to the top. How she might kill and catch such nimble beasts had not crossed her mind often on the way up, but she considered it for a moment as she looked back over her shoulder. Far below her were the tops of the kokloa trees that had no business growing this far north, their spindly trunks ending in a round ball of leaves and branches as tall as her old lodge had been long.
Steeling herself, she focused back on the task at hand. A fall from even a third of that height would be fatal, and she carefully selected the final few spots to put her claws as she hauled herself over the ledge.
Spitting the bolts out, she rolled onto her back and breathed.
Brushing her loincloth off her striped thighs, she held her hands upright in front of her face and contrasted the charcoal patch that ran from her elbow to her fingers with the sandy underside and the cloudy expanse beyond. She had the faintest hints of purple along her long stripes, but the rest of her was built for hiding in the grasslands of home. Letting her arms fall, she stared straight up as she caught her wind.
Above her, the sky was marred with black bands through the normal clouds, and the air smelled of smoke. Not so long ago, it had been unbearable; even walking made her lightheaded. She had been glad that the boys of the tribe spent all those afternoons tanning meats and drying berries. They would have starved, all of them, instead of losing her cousin Nadla to sickness. Only thirty-one of her people remained besides herself, with an untold number hiding in the caves still a journey of the Dancer's Moon away. This time of year, it should have been eleven turns of the sky, but some nights it was hard to tell when the sun had finally set.
They had encountered other tribes on their journey, and many spoke of the sky fires and what they might mean. Some tribes had become mad with mind sickness and threatened them with violence if they neared, while others closed off all contact with the wandering group. Warnings had been passed along to stay far away from a few that had become so ill in the head that they tried to sacrifice their own daughters to appease the Goddess in their own perverse way. Only males were allowed to be sacrificed by many tribes, and only to the Dancer, but never in such a way as that. It was disgusting.
Belief that the sky was coming down upon them had made them so terrified that they raided other villages for girls to throw from the temple peak. Though she had no room to speak on matters of the Goddess or her Consorts, Venka believed it to be heretical and found the very subject to be offensive. A few of the Forgotten tribes behaved in such a way, but emulating them seemed like a poor way to court Her favor. They craved protection from the ancient evil that came from above, fearing the time of their return had finally come.
Aside from the strange flakes of white and the black rain that tasted of ash and blood, the odd happenings had not directly affected their day-to-day lives very much. Only the choking smoke had made it truly difficult, but that had mostly passed. Venka was not afraid of small annoyances or discomfort, she could endure both.
According to the Shaman, the glowing in the far distance was indeed a great wall of fire, probably the source of the smoke. What it had in relation to the fires in the sky, she did not know, but as she lay there, another ball streaked across her view. As it crossed the sky, smaller balls of flame erupted like sparks from a burning log. Pieces came off of them as well, leaving black streaks where they went. Eventually, it crossed so far that she had to sit up to watch, the white and brown feathers atop her head involuntarily raising as she peered at the curious sight—a wave of excitement rippling back down the feathery mane on her neck.
Suddenly, it ended in a bright flash, brighter still than even the sun, and she shut her emerald eyes as tightly as she could. When that wasn't enough, she turned her head and held a hand to shield one eye from the blinding light.
As it dimmed, she allowed herself to blink away the ghostly spot where it had burned into her vision. Venka peered at the spot where it had seemed to come down, her head cocking as she watched a faint circle expanding through the distant air. What manner of magic was that, she wondered. As she considered the possibilities, a deafening crack filled her ears as the wall of air slammed into her.
Peeling herself off the ground, Venka noted that her weapons had been blown over the dangerous edge, and she sighed a quiet prayer that she had not joined them. With nothing to hunt with, she considered climbing down again, but the huntress had another task that the Shaman had given her. As her mind caught up with her she began to wonder why, and then what, but no answer for either. Focus shifted from things that she could not understand or help and back to her duty. They were all expected to cross over the cliff, but she needed to find the spot closest to the pass through the rocks further above.
Blood dripped from her snout; she wiped it with the back of her hand and proceeded along the ledge heading east, hoping that the path up would be easy.
Unfortunately, it was not. While she did locate a way through, it was littered with loose stones dangerous to climb. One callous move and the entire tribe could be buried under an avalanche of rocks, a fate that had claimed the Chieftess and her mates a few moons ago. Sighing, she turned around and walked back.
During that time, the sun had moved three claws. She held her arm outstretched and counted the passage of the distant glow in the haze again just to be sure. They couldn't afford to dawdle at the cliff for very long. The air was cold, and the Low People were sure to be taking refuge in the warmer valley. Unlike her own race, they were not able to make their own heat because they did not come from the Goddess and, instead, were hateful, wretched demons that had crawled up out of the deep depths of the ocean. All their warmth needed to come from something else; they took her kind as slaves to keep warm and for food.
Ahead, she saw a figure rounding the cliff.
"Venka!" called the other person. She knew that voice; it was Sahla, the other hunter that had been sent to scout. "Did you find a way up?"
"I did not," Venka muttered, approaching the other girl. "Did you?"
Sahla was taller and brawnier, her features decidedly much more feminine with her pronounced jaw and the sharp, aggressive lines of her smiling face. A patch of black ran between her eyes and down over her wide snout, fading into the mess of dark brown feathers tipped with streaks of black and speckled with white dots. Like Venka, her eyes were green, but they had streaks of yellow and red fanning out from the vertical slits of her pupils. All in all, she was quite attractive, and many of the boys tried to display for her favor even though they were too young.
Soon she would have her pick, and on the coming of age ceremony, she would put a ring on one of their tails. By the way that Sahla looked at Venka sometimes, she might have even considered her tail as worthy. Venka had no interest in girls like that; she wanted a boy of her own and regretted not being picked to select one at the last two ceremonies.
This year she would be ready. Even Sahla wouldn't get in her way.
"Nothing safe, sweet Venka," the larger hunter admitted. "You truly found no way up? What shall we tell the Shaman?"
"I found a way that would claim a few; it was a rockslide," Venka replied. "I won't tell the Shaman that. How far did you walk?"
"Far enough, six claws of dawn at a good pace to the west, and then I went north. I knew I would find you eventually, but I had hoped to bring good news with."
Venka sighed and sat down against the cool rock, Sahla joining her. They stared out at the carpet of trees that extended to the ridge peeking out from the distant haze, the sharp peaks having been so difficult to cross meant little as the Low People simply took the easy route and went around. She looked to her right and toward the twist in the valley in the west.
"Did you notice how the valley seems to climb?" Venka asked.
Sahla glanced that way. "Yes, I did. I even had to climb once, but nothing as high as this..."
"Pretend I did not meet you; do you know how far I would have walked?" she asked. Venka didn't wait for an answer and said, "I would walk into the distance there, to the source of the great thunder, had my throwing bolts not been knocked over the edge. Do you think the Low People would follow us up that?"
"I do," Sahla admitted. "Come, let us return and tell your plan—"
"No," Venka said, standing up. "Return to the village. I will walk there. Then, when I get there, I will turn around and walk down the valley, even if it takes me all night."
Sahla chuckled and said, "As you wish, sweet Venka, but know that if I find your throwing bolts they are mine to keep."
Exploring the cliff past the point where the other huntress walked proved to be a trickier affair than she had anticipated. Narrowing considerably, she had to edge along the path with her tail tucked and her back against the rock. Mist swirled around the valley below as she climbed the narrow ledge to an even higher spot. The wind started to whip the leather garments against her shapely backside and along her ribs where the tanned hide dangled from her breasts. With no fur or a nice, comfortable layer of blubber, she truly felt the cold, and only her firm determination carried her through the pain. Scales were a little more durable than flesh. She tried to keep her eyes protected and didn't breathe too deeply as she climbed.
Even so, her hypothesis had been proven mostly right. The valley did climb up, and the way through was visible in the distance. Unlike their usual approach, this was a natural path that climbed between two peaks. It would have been perfect for the whole tribe. Seeing it appear through the haze was incredible, almost breathtakingly so, as if the Goddess had parted the sky just for her eyes alone. Climbing such a narrow ledge was barely possible for her; she couldn't fault the brawnier Sahla for missing it. That didn't stop her from admiring the view, her tail flicking against the bitter wind as she surveyed the vast stretches of terrain they had traveled through or bypassed.
Cold, yes, but Venka could never deny that the Goddess had given the Upright People a wonderful garden. Even as it burned, there was fierce and raw beauty all around her that stole the air from her chest.
Only when it became too harsh to endure did she begin the climb back down. She ignored the ledge and chose a direct route to the bottom. Still watching, still aware, she kept glancing at the beautiful scene around her, stopping every so often to catch her breath and admire what was there to see. Even as a little girl, she hated being stuck inside the village. She loved to sprint through the tall grass of the uplands or swim in the swampy delta. Sometimes, she would visit the boys out on the fishing canoes and watch the older males bring in the nets they had carefully laid the day before. Always renowned for her athleticism, Venka had been expected to be a large female who would mate early, but the Goddess had other plans for her.
As she hauled herself from one rocky outcrop to the other, she paused and mapped the path to the next place she would rest. Looking over her shoulder, she almost didn't notice the rising column of black.
She looked again and stared at the spot. The haze had rolled in again and made it difficult to see much of anything. What she could notice was a strange shape she had never seen before. It resembled a rock in so many ways and yet it was not. Rocks were not that color gray, and they were not so flat and angular with so much order and purpose. They also did not have neat stripes of blue and white. Resting could wait; she resumed the climb down immediately.
Everything around the structure had been knocked backward with such force that entire trees had been pushed over, their twisting roots dangling helplessly in the air. No cover existed on the ground for many paces; she had not thought to start counting. The soil had been stripped of any grasses or small undergrowth as well. Some of it could be found draped on the trees and some boulders, but most of it had simply been blasted away as if by the strike of a hammer.
At the center stood an angular shape, appearing out of the haze first in parts and then suddenly as a sharp monolith that startled her when her mind understood its true size. From one end to the other, it resembled the odd salt licks sometimes found in caves that had edges sharp enough to cut scale if one was not careful. Shamans used them for magic, and she had come to associate any geometric pattern like that as alchemical in purpose. So, the thought crossed her mind that, perhaps, a great sorceress called this her lair. Intruding on a user of such magic would have been a very bad thing to do, but the state of the structure and the rising column of dangerously black smoke made her reconsider turning around.
Deep in her gut, she knew that something was wrong with this grand building; it was not in the shape or form that it should have been.
Something terrible had happened here.
Approaching the strange ruin, Venka noticed a straight pole of some unknown material that she had never seen before on the ground. When she picked it up, it seemed warm. It smelled like blood, yet she found none on it. When she turned it in her hand, she noted that it was hollow straight through. Impossibly straight, save for a ragged end that was sharp to the touch, it was also strong and had some weight to it when she maneuvered it through the air. As good a weapon as any, she gazed into the open structure and slowly stepped forward.
Much of it was built in straight lines of the same strange material as her new staff, and the door was painted with strange markings that had been done with such a steady hand that she could not see any brush or claw stroke at all. Whoever, or whatever, made this was a very powerful people, and their artisans were unmatched. They also had strong magic; the inside had squares and rectangles that cast an eerie light upon everything, orange as the setting sun. Beneath her feet, she felt no dirt, nor board, nor rug... With a tap of her large claws, she was unable to pierce the structure's floor. Smoke poured out from a square hole in the ceiling, carried away by a current of air coming from deeper within.
Steeling her nerves, she followed it.
Down a long hallway, she found another door, but this one was shut to her and she could not find any handle. A strange barrier, clear as fresh water, separated her from the room inside. She believed she could see something that looked like a body, but it had no tail and it was far too small. Suddenly, she became quite aware of the fire within the structure as she watched it burn. That could be me, she thought. Deciding to move on, she wandered through the adjacent corridor toward her right and noted more of the closed doors.
Whatever race of people built this structure had not anticipated the calamity that had befallen it. A raging inferno behind another door burned so furiously that the door was glowing a deep red. When she neared, she smelled the heat and acrid stench of the material as it groaned. Another oddity was the strange patterns in the walls, like ripples of fabric, almost as if the structure had been crushed by some great force and still resisted it. Many of the straight lines and rounded edges had been twisted to reveal vines behind the square panels of the walls. They were marked with strange runes, but one had colors that immediately reminded her of a venomous creature. Something about the runes on that one was concerning; she noticed a symbol of two points angled parallel, joined at their ends to form a continuous and sharp glyph—it looked evil.
A stream of water flowed from a hole in the ceiling and pooled on the floor, but as she approached, the stench of the liquid made her head jerk back on its own. This was a scent she had never encountered before. It was obviously water of some kind, but within it was something that made it too blue and clear to be safe to drink. Certain animals had an odor in their urine when they marked their territory, a sharp stab to the back of the nostrils, and her mind went back to that scent as she avoided stepping in the puddle. Certain rocks also gave off similar hints of that strange, unfathomable odor that made her want to get away from it immediately. It was not natural.
Something on the floor caught her eye, and she knelt down to pick it up. Some kind of pendant, the string was a series of little beads with a white mirror shine, and the talisman was a pair of flat pieces of identical size and shape with runes pushed into them. Risking a curse, she tried to bend one and found it to be very sturdy, concluding that the runes had been hammered in with great force and a high degree of skill. Still, she didn't want to keep such a thing and set it down on the floor as gently and respectfully as she could.
Carefully stepping through the corridor, she came across a sight that chilled her to the bone.
There, in the center of the hallway, a shaft like the one she had in her hand speared through the wall and into the corpse of a creature she had never seen before. With two arms and two legs, but no tail, it looked like a person and had eyes looking forward into forever as the little hands still clutched the pole that had been driven into its chest. Instead of feathers, it had long fur tied back into a rope-like pattern. Venka was perplexed. She sniffed the body and recoiled.
It was fresh.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out to touch the strange creature. Her claws poked at its clothing, covering it from shoulder down to the arms, with another garment that concealed the legs all the way to sandals that encapsulated the entire feet. As she felt the body, noting that it was slightly warmer than the surrounding air, she observed that the creature had breasts like her own. This being was female. Venka felt a wave of sorrow for this strange being, knowing that they shared something in common. So, with great care, she used the back of her claws to close the creature's eyes.
"Goddess, take her into your embrace," Venka whispered. "Please carry her soul to the fields of green and the waters from which we all came."
Around her, the structure groaned, as if in pain, and Venka traced the line of the shaft up into the ceiling. Had the structure failed here? Were there more of her people trapped? She understood then that the body from before had been a person and that at least two had been killed in these great halls.
Narrowing her eyes, the huntress felt a surge of determination to find survivors in this strange place.