The smell of the forest changed. Gradually, as Siva drew closer to the ruin of Ar’lupo, the lush and loamy smells of life gave way to the acrid reek of old smoke. Though the tangy scent of blood had faded in the months since the disaster, still the smoke remained, preserved by the heavy humidity of summer in the jungle. Siva breathed deep, and in doing so detected fresh smoke on the air. A reminder that somewhere in the rubble of the Feast Hall, something still burned. After weeks and weeks, through rain and wind, something down there was still on fire.
Iridescent gully-beetles, ankle high and as long as an arrow, trundled out of her path as she made her approach, the females fat with unlaid eggs, the males purple with venom. Siva passed them with a special hitch in her gait to avoid startling them. Too fast or too slow and the males would sense danger. It was a dangerous season for the beetles.
Overhead in the canopy, a mated pair of jaumbors stalked Siva, as quiet as the wind, but not quiet enough to avoid her notice. They betrayed themselves by moving too quickly through the leaves. From a pouch at her belt she took a dab of jaumbor blood and dabbed it behind one ear. If they kept following her, it would only be out of curiosity.
At last, the walls of Ar’lupo rose between the trees, a forbidding row of tar-sealed trunks sharpened to spiked ramparts twenty feet up. Paired with the natural boulder formation at the south end of the fort, it made for a secure settlement in the midst of the forest. Except, of course, for the massive, blasted hole that gaped like a mouthful of broken teeth. Carefully, Siva crossed the wreckage and made her way into the township proper.
Not every building was destroyed. That much could be said, but the thought did nothing to mitigate the horror. In the dry season, parts of the forest might burn, and houses might burn with it, but the people could get away. Siva could see, with her tracker’s eyes, that the people here had not escaped. It was her first time seeing Ar’lupo since the disaster, and now the place reminded her of charcoal drawings her father brought home from his diplomatic work: drawings of forts and camps bombed by Capulan ships. The wreckage formed a kind of sloppy star, with a centerpoint radiating scorched earth and ruined masonry or wood. What was the word for that middle place, where the bomb had fallen?
“Ground zero,” she murmured to herself, testing the soil between her fingertips. Black ash, beaten into mud by the rains. A trackless black path straight from ground zero to the hole in the wall. And all around that path ran the footprints.
The ash hid the footprints of those who fled and died. On top of the ash were the prints of the Deep Rangers who came afterward to collect the bodies. Jayadi’s tracks were among them, although even Siva couldn’t discern his footprints from others. Jayadi was the one who first warned her about the Shadow that lurked outside the ruin. Two Deep Rangers had fallen to it, and half a dozen woodsfolk who came to pay respects or mourn. The Shadow was the echo of what had happened here.
Little plumes of white smoke rose from the pile of bricks and carved beams that had been the Feast Hall. Down below, something still burned. All around were the footprints of the Rangers and the Wardens who had tried to put out the fire, only to learn that it would not be put out. It burned until it was finished burning, but no water or dirt could choke it. Siva walked a slow circle around the wrecked building, observing which bricks had broken in the fall and which ones had been torn, seemingly scored by the claws of a huge animal. It wasn’t until she was nearly finished with her circuit that she noticed the fresh tracks.
Human tracks. Boots with a slender shape but a depth that betrayed significant weight. Quickly, Siva crouched and put a fingertip to the pit of one print. Still fresh. But who? Rangers and Wardens wore moccasins suitable for climbing and swimming, not heavy boots.
Before she could speculate, she heard the screams. Not human screams, but the hunting cry of a jaumbor at the kill. The terrible sound was usually enough to stun prey and buy the predator enough time to do its work. But as Siva listened, the cries continued, and then a gunshot. Instantly she pinpointed the source of the noise and took flight, leaving her own tracks across the moist mud.
When she reached the wall, she barely slowed down. Leaping, she dug one foot into a notch between logs and vaulted up, then again with her other leg, and then with one hand and the last of her momentum she swept herself over the wall and landed in a roll. In the space of a breath, her Songstealer blades were in her hands, their hollow handles murmuring.
The jaumbors had found more than they bargained for. Instead of a wild boar or a whelf separated from its herd, their prey turned out to be an armored woman with a black metal gunsword. Her hair was white, her skin a deep brown, and her tabard the red-gold of the Lost Hours Acolytes from Vehenna to the East. Two things were plain: she was skilled with a sword and she had no experience fighting jaumbors. The predators moved to outflank her, one drawing her attention by raising its barbed forelegs while the other circled around, ready to entangle its victim. Before Siva could intervene, the creatures sprang their trap, both leaping, one feinting, and one going in for the kill. It wrapped its eight muscular legs around the woman and tried to slice at her with its barbs, but her armor was too thick. Instead, the creature moved to constrict, tightening the cage of its legs to suffocate its prey.
Siva froze at what she saw next. All at once, the woman was cloaked in darkness, and a man’s shape overlaid hers, like a cloud passing over the sun. The jaumbor seemed to sink into her, pass through her, and she freed herself easily. The animals were too startled and disoriented to move as the glowing yellow eyes of the ghostly man passed over them. Then, to Siva’s surprise, those eyes met hers.
“Friend or foe?” the shadow asked. “We could use a helping hand, stranger.”
Its voice was like her father’s, patient, but powerful. Something in the voice made Siva act.
She came into the clearing with her weapons twirling, swiping them through the air so that the fluted handles would sing, and the weird howl they made was enough to terrify the jaumbors. One strange creature they could handle, but two was too many, and this new one howled and reeked of blood. They clambered into the canopy and swung away through the branches, barking warnings to others of their kind.
By the time the dance was finished, the yellow-eyed shadow had faded away, and Siva sheathed her blades. She caught the strange woman eyeing the hammer mechanisms on the hilts. Some outsiders were still surprised to learn that black powder weapons had made their way into Akinlo Forest. Siva was proud, and posed to show them off.
“Siva san Skarif,” she said. “Daughter of Ambassador Skarif san Sori. What can I call you?”
“Hundreds of pardons,” the woman said, putting her hand flat across her stomach in a gesture of polite greeting. “Avaset is my name. I am one of the Order of the Fading Light.”
“I can see that,” Siva said, circling Avaset to look over her equipment. “Have you run into any Rangers out here? I mean, this deep in the forest?”
“I have not,” Avaset replied. “I have come here to… because of… er, you might call it ‘quest’? Something I must do for Order. Mission.”
Siva nodded and finished her examination. The knight’s gear bore all the marks of long travel, although clearly it was diligently maintained. It would have been quite a journey for someone travelling alone.
“Hey, do you mind if I look at your passport?” Siva asked. “I don’t want to be rude, but you’re sure to meet some Wardens or Rangers or somebody and I’d hate for it to be a problem. Can I just check it out? A lot of violent and scary stuff has been happening around here lately and people are a little edgy.”
“Allies are we, correct?” Avaset asked.
“Correct,” Siva said, smiling. “But if I were to visit Adria or Twilight Bend I’d be sure to bring my passport, right? I mean, I don’t exactly look Vehennan, right?”
Siva’s knowledge of Vehennan geography seemed to relax Avaset a bit, but she was still hesitant when she handed over the folded leather of her passport. Right away it was clear to Siva that the document had seen a lot of use. The folds were creased and beginning to dry. Because the leather couldn’t be oiled without spoiling the signatures, they expired naturally. In the bottom corner she found the Vehannan ambassador’s signature and below it her father’s name, accompanied by a smear of what looked like caked mud. Siva brought it to her nose and smelled. Some of the scents had faded, but the stamp was still valid.
“Looks fine to me,” she said, handing it back. “A little old, though. Almost a year. How come you didn’t just order a new one?”
“Big hurry,” Avaset replied. “We heard of fire here. Fire does not concern the Order. Surely, tragic it was, but…”
She gestured frustration and Siva put up a hand. No offense meant. None taken.
“Yes, and but then,” the knight continued. “More news. Some travelers from your land. They talk about the Shadow here, where the fire was. A Shadow that can kill. And my Order starts thinking: ‘Already was it strange for woodsfolk to die in this fire. And now this Shadow. Too many strange things at one time, and maybe a sign. Maybe not.’ So I am sent here. We know about shadows more than most people. More than anyone. But there is a law to them. Rules. Dangerous not to follow these rules.”
Siva looked back over her shoulder. The Ar’lupo wall still stood, but she’d seen what was left inside. And the smoke rose above the ramparts, into the canopy, where the leaves were still black above the settlement.
“I see,” she said. “Okay, let me help you, then. We’re hunting the same thing, whatever it is.”
“Help me? A child you are.”
“Don’t be stupid, please,” Siva replied. “I live in this forest and it’s pretty obvious this is your first time here. I don’t know why your Order sent you out here by yourself, without a Ranger escort or even a squire from your own land, but it’s dangerous. I’m the ambassador’s daughter and I’m not about to let a Vehennan knight get herself killed because she stepped on a pregnant beetle or something.”
Avaset cocked her head and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. A ripple of shade passed over her white hair, and she smiled as if at a joke only she could hear.
“Agreeable,” she said. “Guide me, then. I need to make camp but do not wish to disrespect the dead. Show me where I can sleep nearby.”
The pair moved into the woods, keeping the walls to their left. The river that fed the settlement babbled and gurgled up ahead, and Siva knew it would make a good camping place.
“Oh!” she said. “One other thing. I’m not supposed to be out here. I almost forgot, but my father completely forbade me from visiting this place until the whole mystery is settled.”
“What?” was Avaset’s reply.
“So if we run into any Rangers or anything, just let me do the talking, alright?”