Chapter 17

Never crouched at the edge of the rice fields – a long, flat wetland that stretched either side of the northern highway, stepping down toward lower ground in verdant green tiers. The road was broad, well-maintained, wide enough for two wagons to pass. It stood empty now, but the fields were dotted with farmers. Not so many either, perhaps they were taking a mid-morning break.

In any event, he had to make up for a lot of lost time. His legs were ready, even if his wings were not. Unai was already gone, all that was left was for Never to make his move. He broke into a crouching run, leaving the overgrown opening in the ground to cross the hard earth and join the road, where he straightened into a jog.

The wagon and its heavy steel load would not have been making great time – and hopefully they’d stopped for the night the previous evening. Still, he’d have his work cut out for him.

He alternated between jogging and walking until noon, when he leant against a stunted tree to drink and eat from the supplies Niswan provided. No sign of the wagon yet, but once his wings healed he’d make up for lost time.

Never started out once more; approaching a sharp bend in the road. A single traveller approached, dragging something on a sled. Never kept a hand near a dagger as he drew near but the fellow simply nodded as he passed, neatly bundled bags of some manner of foodstuffs tied to his sling.

Beyond the bend, Never slowed. The rice fields still stretched around the road but the path dipped before it climbed up again and within the depression, set off the highway, was a scene of wreckage – blackened debris covered the earth, ravaging even the edges of the wet crops. A mighty lightning strike?

Two warrior monks stood before the scene, hands on their hilts.

Beyond them, a line of charred bodies had been arranged. Six or seven... Never forced himself to walk casually. The monks had noticed him and would be watching as he passed, yet his whole body seemed to hum with tension.

Six or seven guards?

Ayuni...

The human remains were little more than shrivelled limbs, features reduced to a shiny black. Not too far away, a slagheap of melted steel covered the ground and beyond that in turn, twin lumps of black. Flies hovered and the cloying scent of burnt flesh clung to the air.

The bodies were of a size, as best he could tell.

Ayuni did not appear to be one of them – yet what had happened here?

“Traveller, where are you headed?”

One of the monks was waving for him to leave the road. The distance was hardly so great that the man wouldn’t soon notice the fact that Never was not Kiymako.

“Your way,” Never said as he charged.

The man stumbled back half a step before tearing his sisan free. Never had already flung one of his blades, his favourite with the triangular patterns, and it thudded into the man’s thigh. He fell aside as Never sidestepped to slash at the second warrior, who deflected his blow with her sword. She followed with her own attack, chopping down from left and right as he dodged.

Never tried to slip inside her guard but she leapt back.

He glanced back to the man, who was circling, sword ready as he limped.

“No time for this,” Never muttered. He sliced into the back of his hand, letting a globe of crimson-fire build. It engulfed his entire forearm as he whirled, spraying searing blood at the wounded man. The monk dived but his injured leg failed him; flames tore across his body. He crashed to the burnt earth, screaming.

The other monk hissed, her eyes wide. But she did not attack. Instead, she spun and sprinted away, disappearing down the highway as Never watched. He approached the other warrior, bending to jerk his blade free. The man did not respond – already dead. “You were part of this,” he told the corpse, then strode to the great heap of melted steel.

It seemed to have burst out in a spray, like a deadly flower opening.

As if something within had burnt its way free... he frowned. Could Ayuni have been responsible? Did she even know how to use crimson-fire? There was a chance it was something else entirely. He paced. Too many questions – the most alarming of which being, if she had freed herself, and it was the crimson-fire, just how much blood had it cost?

Yet any doubts he had about her identity were falling away swiftly now.

It was obvious too, that she was in danger.

He started a circuit of the area, splashing into the nearest field – a line of blackened rice. Never hopped onto the earthen barrier and ran, following the rows of ruined grasses until he reached a pair of bodies. One hung over the barrier, legs dangling, the other lay motionless in the crop. The man in the water possessed no hands – they’d been burnt to stubs, and the other monk was headless. Ash floated in the water.

Never ran on.

The tier curved around a hillside but halfway along, the path veered sharply across the paddy. A third corpse waited for him there, face-down in the rice. By the level of burns, something similar to the bodies near the road, the monk had died a horrible death. Yet he’d obviously expressed some level of bravery, or madness, to have pursued his charge considering he would have seen what happened to his fellows.

Or perhaps it was fear – fear of what Brother Hiruso would do, should he fail.

The trail led toward the hillside. Never leapt over the body and increased his pace, quickly drawing closer to the hill, where he splashed to a halt.

The trail of ashes led directly to the wall of earth and grass but did not stop. It simply continued, tunnelling through as if some mighty ball of fire had pummelled its way into the very hill.