83: THE MONASTERY OF SHERNA-VENG

(Talea’s story)

After they collected Kihrin, they continued traveling. By the third day, they started to see the effects of Baelosh’s presence on the surrounding land. They’d continued traveling down the main road, working their way out of the maze of winding canyons. Then, without warning, the desert turned into inexplicably lush greenery. A winding, overreaching perfusion of plants, vines, flowers, and trees that had no business growing in this hot, dry climate spread out over the landscape.

Sometimes, Talea noticed signs of civilization buried in these profusions of flora. The spokes of a wagon wheel. Planks from a cart. The shape of a wall nearly buried under morning glories, but suggesting the original, ruined building. She never saw a body or bones, but she had a feeling they were under there too. The land was very quiet, with no sound of birds or animals, just the rustling of leaves and the sweet smell of honeysuckle.

It occurred to Talea that they might wind up testing whether or not Wildheart could really control Baelosh quicker than they’d intended if the dragon chose to go after them on the road.

As if the fates had heard that thought, Fidget had an attack of nerves and began whinnying, ears back. Xivan’s horse, Noisy Boy, even went so far as to start to rear before she brought him back under control. Kihrin’s horse, Wander, seemed about a second from bolting.

Thurvishar reached out and grabbed the reins for Fidget and Wander.

A winged, serpentine shadow flew out over the land.

“Is that—?” Senera shielded her eyes from the sun as she tried to see while simultaneously trying to keep her horse, Thirsty, from bolting.

Thurvishar replied, “That’s not Baelosh.”

“No,” Kihrin replied, his voice strained. “That’s Sharanakal. That’s the Old Man. We need to hide.”

Senera’s eyes widened. “Hide where?” She glanced around. There were no buildings, no cliffs, no shelter anywhere save the trees Baelosh had created.

“Tree line,” Kihrin ordered. “Right now. Thurvishar, keep us alive.”

Thurvishar somehow ordered his horse—the only one who wasn’t panicking—toward the trees, with the necessary side effect of bringing Talea’s and Kihrin’s horses with him, and also Talea and Kihrin. Halfway there, Talea nearly fell off her horse as Kihrin simply vanished.

Her heart was hammering at her ribs. She imagined it must not have been too dissimilar to what a rabbit must feel when the shadow of a hawk crosses the ground.

Since she didn’t have to steer (or to be more precise really couldn’t steer), Talea shaded her eyes and looked up. She’d only ever seen one dragon before—Aeyan’arric—and she found herself curious what the others looked like.

Terrifying. The dragon looked very dark, although Talea wasn’t entirely certain if it was dark or it just appeared that way because she was seeing it silhouetted against the sun. Glowing cracks outlined its form. The dragon soared up above, neck twisting from side to side as the creature hunted.

“Vol Karoth must have given Sharanakal the good news: I’m still alive,” Kihrin said.

Talea looked over at Kihrin’s horse, Wander. The horse was still there, still saddled, still packed with supplies and a strapped-down lap harp. She still couldn’t see Kihrin himself.

As soon as they rode under the trees, they stopped their horses. Thurvishar raised Wildheart. He grew no new trees, but the branches overhead became so thick and full of green, it was impossible for the horses to see the sky.

They didn’t completely calm. Even without being able to see, some sixth sense whispered of unnatural danger nearby. The scent of hot metal filled the air.

“Stay invisible,” Thurvishar said.

“You think I need to be told that?” Kihrin replied.

As far as Talea could tell, he was still riding Wander’s back.

“Why is Sharanakal looking for you?” Senera asked. “I thought you’d fooled him into thinking you died in that volcanic eruption?”

“How do you know—?” Kihrin asked. “Thurvishar, I hate that gods-damned book.”

“One dragon is bad enough,” Xivan said. “No one said anything about two dragons.”

“We are in no way prepared to deal with Sharanakal,” Senera said, stating the obvious.

“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Talea said. “We’re not really prepared to deal with Baelosh.”

Thurvishar cleared his throat. “Let’s see if we can find a better route. Something with more hiding spots in case he comes back. According to the map, there should be some sort of settlement to our east. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped Baelosh’s attention, but it should have more cover.”

Kihrin turned visible and started to get off the horse.

“Don’t dismount,” Thurvishar warned. He pointed down to the hooves of the horses, where tiny green vines and shoots were straining to wrap around equine hooves. They were not succeeding, but it wasn’t entirely clear what was stopping them.

Talea suspected Thurvishar was the one stopping them. She could see the yellow-green stone in his hand.

“Got it,” Kihrin said. “Staying on the horse.” He leaned against the pommel of his saddle. “Just out of curiosity, what’s Sharanakal’s Cornerstone?”

Thurvishar frowned. “I’m not entirely sure—”

“Worldhearth,” Senera said.

“You mean Qown’s Cornerstone?” Kihrin looks surprised. “The one he’s using to spy on people?”

“The same,” she said, chewing on her lip. “And no, I’m not telling you where Qown is. You’d both try to go rescue him and get yourselves killed.”

Thurvishar looked rather indignant, and Kihrin laughed.

“Didn’t that map show a village near here?” Talea asked.

Senera frowned at her. “Don’t encourage them.”

“I don’t think that’s a village,” Thurvishar said. “Someplace called Sherna-Veng? It’s a different symbol. Not a village, town, or city. I’m honestly not sure what it is.”

“Whatever it is, the dragons may not have destroyed it.” Talea turned to Xivan for support. “And if we want to stay under cover, a building is a great way to do it.”

Xivan pursed her lips. “I would be curious if this business with a second dragon showing up is news or not. Let’s go see.”

“Fine.” Senera led her horse back onto the road.


Talea’s optimism was dashed all too quickly. By the time they reached the location the map had indicated, they’d already seen the plumes of smoke in the sky for several hours. Which Talea thought had a rather interesting implication, namely that Baelosh probably wasn’t responsible. He wouldn’t have caused any burning.

The “settlement” turned out to be another red sandstone cliff-carved building that resembled a temple. Shallow stone steps led up to broad columned avenue, an inset courtyard, and more steps leading up to a massive set of front doors.

There were corpses everywhere.

Thurvishar dismounted first, but everyone else quickly followed.

“The dragons didn’t attack here,” Kihrin said. He had an ugly expression on his face as he looked down at the bloody work before him.

“Rebel, sit,” Senera ordered.

Talea began walking around the area, looking at the ground, at the bodies. They were all at least a day old. The flies had been busy, and the smell of death—which to Talea had always been and would always be the odor of blood, rot, and shit—attacked the back of her throat with every breath. There were no children, thankfully, just men and women of various ages, all with shaved heads and all wearing simple broadcloth tunics of the same dyed homespun. Priests, perhaps, of some monastic order.

She didn’t see a single body that hadn’t died with a weapon close at hand. Most of the bodies had visible weapon wounds, some from the front, but many more from the back. Throats had been slit; the survivors had fought to the death. Yet despite the similarity of wounds, most of the people had died with an expression of horror on their faces that implied something other than anger had been their last emotion.

“They slew each other?” Talea turned to Xivan for confirmation. “But they all look so scared.”

Xivan nodded as she looked around. “Terrified.”

“Xivan?” Kihrin called from one of the buildings. “I don’t think you should see—” He paused at the doorway, his lips pressed together. He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, but I found them.”

Xivan froze. Her eyes widened for a second with panic and shock, then she rushed past Kihrin.

Talea followed her liege into the building, which had a large main chapel area and various passages that branched off into living areas, workrooms, training rooms. The place must have been quite a sanctuary once. Before all the murder.

Kihrin led them both into the back. A woman slumped over a wide table, the front of her tunic first soaked and then dried red with her death’s blood. More blood stained the floor, but from a different source:

Azhen and Exidhar Kaen both hung from ropes hanged into the walls and ceiling.

Both were dead.

They’d been tortured, although even prior to that, they’d clearly been mistreated. Both men had clearly suffered from malnourishment before their deaths. They’d probably been forced to suffer all manner of indignities. Talea had never looked highly upon either of them, but she couldn’t help but feel the pain of this in her heart, a savage twisting of spiritual knives. Like the woman in the room—the bodies outside—both men had died with expressions of abject terror on their faces.

A small, nearly inaudible gasp came from Xivan as she stared at them. She sank to her knees in front of their bodies, glassy-eyed and staring. Talea went to her immediately and put a hand on her shoulder. Xivan clutched her hand to her chest and bent over it.

“Where’s the baby?” Senera asked, arms folded over her chest as she examined the room. She sounded utterly indifferent to the fate of Xivan’s dead husband and son, which was probably the truth of the matter.

“What did you just say?” Xivan looked up.

“Your granddaughter,” Senera clarified. “Where is she? And where’s her mother, Veixizhau? I don’t see their bodies here.”

“Suless doesn’t kill baby girls,” Kihrin reminded Senera. “She turns them into witch mothers, remember? She wouldn’t kill the kid. She’d use her.”

“Gods! That bitch.” Xivan closed her eyes, still on her knees. “That bitch left this for me to find!” She gestured toward the bodies.

“Yes,” Thurvishar said. “That does seems the logical conclusion.” He shuddered and turned his head away.

“I’ve seen people die like this before,” Kihrin said.

Talea didn’t think Xivan heard him. He said the words so softly.

“What was that?”

Kihrin’s attention was focused on Thurvishar, who sighed and nodded. “Yes, I have too.”

“Mind explaining it for the rest of us?” Senera said.

Xivan looked like she was about to pick up each man by their collars and shake them.

Thurvishar turned to Senera and Xivan. “My adoptive father would leave people with this sort of expression when he pulled their souls from their bodies to make tsali. Your family didn’t die of blood loss. They died of soul loss.”

Talea said, “The whole monastery looks like that.”

Thurvishar nodded. “Yes. She must have done this to everyone here.” He looked uncomfortable, ill. “Baelosh collects tsali. I imagine this is the payment she used to gain his protection.”

None of them said anything. The silence was heavy and thick, floating through the room like a cloying fume.

Xivan rose to her feet. Her expression was stony. “Let’s go find my granddaughter.”