by B A Vonsik
Clad in greenish hunter’s armor more robust than Rogaan’s, the Tellen staggered to his boots and made his best effort to fast-walk that turned out to be more of a series of stumbles as if drunk from a day’s festivities. Two days of festivities, Aren figured watching him. Arrows and flying parts of the Khaaron kept just missing the Tellen. Great . . . one of those we now have, Aren grumbled to himself. When the Tellen went down to the deck, all of his own accord, Rogaan was able to reach out and grab the stout fellow. With arrows sticking into the deck and exterior cabin wall, Rogaan pulled and dragged the white-bearded Tellen to cover behind the boats.
“My thanks, young Rogaan.” The white-bearded Tellen expressed his gratitude before losing his stomach to the deck opposite him and Rogaan.
“Great!” Aren commented. “Can this get worse?”
“Time to go!” Rogaan suddenly announced waving his black and tan case to one of the fellow-warriors who arrived with him. That warrior made a hand sign to someone unseen atop the forward cabin.
A new vibration grabbed Aren’s attention just before a multicolored light show erupted far above the sails of the Khaaron. Who are they signaling? Aren asked himself. They seem to be following a plan . . . one evidently not meant to take the ship or kill the Shunned. Aren didn’t like that last thought . . . the Shunned living and him on the same ship. They must have a plan to escape. I’ve got to leave with them. He tested his arms and legs to see if they had strength enough to carry him. He wasn’t sure, but he had to risk falling on his face or be left on this ship—with Lucufaar . . . Luntanus . . . whatever in Kur his name . . . the cursed Shunned.
“Get ready to move and quickly, Trundiir,” Rogaan warned the white-bearded Tellen. This Trundiir, stouter and by almost a head a shorter Tellen than Rogaan, responded by swallowing hard as he raised himself into a crouched position. “You too . . . Aren. If you wish to leave this Shunned behind.”
Aren felt it before he saw the white flaming sparks start rotating into a rainbow-colored gateway . . . a step-gate, if Aren recalled its name correctly from his father’s teaching, as described in the legends of the distant past. It formed to their right, near the green-clad warriors. Aren needed to make sure the manifestation was meant for their escape. Someone needed to use it first before he dare step through it. Then, he wondered at Rogaan and the white-bearded Tellen not running to the rainbow circle. What are they waiting for? The crackle of flames followed something like clay pottery breaking somewhere forward of Aren and the Tellens and yelling by the crew and Tusaa’Ner about a fire. Looking in-between the boats, between the Shunned and him, Aren saw an area of the deck in flames, and the crew quickly fighting to put it out, some of them catching fire. A new vibration caused Aren to peek about the Khaaron. Lines of the Power caught his attention. They formed a barrier along the right side of the ship. Explosions of flames struck the almost-invisible wall in two places, then dripped down the barrier to the dark waters as if a burning oil of some kind.
A pair of blue-clad Tusaa’Ner, a male sakal and his subordinate, attacked the green-gray-armored warrior closest the gateway. The warrior easily held his own, quickly cutting down the subordinate Tusaa’Ner while keeping the sakal’s blade from him. As that battle raged, Rogaan and the white-bearded Tellen took off for the gateway, the white-bearded Tellen clearly slower. Before they got to the rainbow circle, the door to the forward cabin swung open. Standing in the doorway in red-brown hide armor was the dark-haired Subar catching first sight of the chaos and looking at trying to make sense of it all. The white-bearded Tellen passed the slowing Rogaan, then paused in front of the rainbow-colored gateway, appearing uncertain of stepping inside. Rogaan shoved the Tellen through, then made to leap in when a desperate young voice, a familiar female Baraan voice, called out to him from the doorway next to the red-armored Subar. Rogaan froze, then turned with an unbelieving look on his face searching for the female Baraan. This isn’t good, Aren worried. He planned to stay close to this Tellen for reasons that gnawed at him, but if the Tellen stayed or got himself killed, that would leave Aren on the Khaaron with the . . . Shunned. Aren shivered as he fought with his own body to rise so to escape the ship.
“Suhd . . .” came the surprised and lass-struck words from Rogaan.
Aren cringed as he struggled to his bare feet. This isn’t good.
He recalled Suhd’s rough treatment in the Farratum jails. How the Sakes and Tusaa’Ner mishandled her . . . or tried to until Rogaan broke one of them and killed the other. On the Khaaron, she sometimes helped Aren, or more accurately, she assisted the Subar in his doings, which meant fetching him so the Subar could ask more questions. She tried to run from the doorway to Rogaan, but the armor-clad Subar caught her gray tunic, pulling her back into him before wrapping his red-brown, hide-armored left arm around her. A desperate look in the Subar’s eyes lit off a flare of anger on the half Tellen’s face as Aren grew even more concerned. The Subar is smitten with her too. Damn, this youngling’s sway is strong. Several times, Aren felt her scent seeking to make him compliant . . . even tried to make him enticed with her, but his Evendiir blood resisted the temptations. At first, Aren thought her deliberately doing what the worst of the female Baraans did, enticing and influencing others with their flirts and natural scents, but he observed Suhd not even to be aware of what she did. Her mother’s fault for not teaching young Suhd of her deadly potential, Aren accused.
Then . . . A fight broke out between the red-armored Subar and Rogaan after Ezerus tossed Suhd back into the interior of the cabin, the two going at it with fists and long knives. The ax-sword on the Subar’s back useless in such close quarters and in such a short scuffle that Aren almost missed. Rogaan, with a blurry of fast strikes, left the Subar rasping for air while disabled on a knee. Still, he reached for his ax-sword on his back. Suhd went running past him and into the half Tellen’s arms. Their hug and short exchange of words were interrupted by a bellow above from the red-armored Kabiri warrior warning of approaching death.
Aren felt the spheres of fire coming from the Shunned. He shivered as the red-armored warrior on the upper deck parried away the flaming spheres with Agni Powers, away from Suhd and Rogaan and the rainbow circle. On protective impulse, Rogaan grabbed up Suhd and jumped through the rotating circle of colors. The green-armored warriors immediately followed.
Now, run, you idiot! Aren scolded himself for not already have gone for the rotating rainbow, the step-gate, and escape the Khaaron. He ran, but not as fast as he wanted . . . more of a frustrated hobble than anything else. Out of nowhere, someone grabbed him by his tunic and pulled him back and away from the colorful circle. It was the Subar, pulling Aren backward before making haste for the step-gate with his ax-sword in hand, all while wearing obsession and desperation in his eyes.
“You’ll pay for that!” Aren promised his revenge as he recovered his feet and set off after the Subar in a wobbly run and his escape. New vibrations told Aren lightning was on its way. Fearing it focused on him, he cringed in a slight hunch as he pushed on toward the rotating colors . . . committed to escaping this ship while hoping he could beat the Power. Blazing lightning struck above and in front of him. Not me! Relief poured over Aren as he shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness. One step from the rainbow circle, the Subar intensely immolated white as he launched upward, ax-sword in hand, atop exploding wood planks of the deck beneath him. Overboard, he helplessly flew giving Aren only a glimpse of his burnt armor and pain-contorted face. Aren gave him not another thought as he leaped over the hole in the deck and plunged into the rainbow circle.
Chapter 17
Lasting the Shunned
Relief filled Aren as he felt himself floating inside a rainbow tunnel made of the Powers. Strangely, he felt no vibrations, heard no sounds, felt nothing . . . no movement, not even time. He found himself looking about in wonder in all directions, trying to figure out its structure. Its complexity breathtaking. Its beauty mesmerizing. But suddenly, without warning, Aren’s peac
eful moment interrupted with him tumbling, tossed from the comfort of the rainbow and onto hardwood planks, sending him butt-over-head until his legs and arm painfully stopped him rolling.
“Auch!” Aren yelled out in pain when a hard-soled foot bent his back awkwardly. He recoiled and curled up on the wood planks both as a means of stretching his back in a manner it was meant to be and to conceal the item surprisingly still in his hands . . . the red and black hide-wrapped red gemstone. How he still gripped it astonished him. When he regained his wits from the pain, he remembered the red gemstone . . . the Agni. Panic gripped him, making him want to throw the cursed thing away, but instead, he fought hard to remain still, not bringing undue attention to himself. Must keep this Agni from everyone.
Opening his eyes, Aren found himself lying at the far end and in the center of a semicircle of heavily armed, ratty-clothed Baraans. A musky odor . . . or sweat and worse assaulted his nose. More unbathed Baraans . . . Really? At the other open end of the semicircle hung above the planks the rotating sparks surrounding the rainbow circle. Did I just pass through that? Aren asked himself, not certain he experienced the mythical step-gate. To one side of the Baraan semicircle, Aren found the white-bearded Tellen, Trundiir, on his knees with Baraans holding a long knife at his neck and a spear poking his left side. He looked unhappy, even for a Tellen. On the other side of the semicircle stood Rogaan, still with bow and sword over his shoulders, amidst the Baraans, holding the dark-haired Suhd close to him. The Baraans were mixed, some not paying much attention to him while others stood, having spears, clubs, and blades at the ready in case he did something unapproved. The two green-clad warriors stood near the step-gate with spears ready for anything other than the red-armored one to appear. The surface of the step-gate shimmered suddenly, then appeared to expand, then contract. Everyone held their breath with attentions fully on the rainbow circle allowing Aren to stand and slip behind the semicircle of what he concluded were some of a ship’s crew. Feeling near exhaustion, he felt himself trembling as he moved. A pair of pointy tips poked him not so gently in the back, stopping his planned withdraw and escape from the crowd.
A vibration with an odd feel coming from the shimmering rainbow step-gate warned Aren something was going to happen. He dropped to a knee and hunched down even farther to protect himself from the unknown. A shockwave of heat emitted from the rainbow circle knocking over almost all the Baraans, both the green-clad warriors, and Rogaan and his lithe, dark-haired friend. Only the white-bearded Tellen and the Baraan with the long knife at him stood, the Baraan evidently shielded from the blast by the Tellen’s girth. When Aren felt he could open his eyes without getting hit in the face by flying debris, he found himself on his knees and small fires surrounding the red-armored warrior lying on the deck planks, his armor shredded in multiple places and completely gone in others. Then the angry-looking shimmering rainbow circle winked out.
Silence fell over the ship. Aren heard his heart beat rapidly as his body continued trembling. Then, a murmur came from the crew as Aren looked about to get his bearings. The ship he now stood on had triangular black sails and less width than the Khaaron. The ship felt different in its movements . . . quicker, faster. Beyond the crowd and aft decks and cabins behind them, blue filled the dawn sky to the northeast. Darkness still held the sky to the northwest providing him good contrast of two burning and smoking ships just visible over the railing on his left beyond the cabins and command deck. One ship floated totally engulfed in flames and looked to be sinking, the other with a fire blazing its center sails. The flames of that center sail were then snuffed out with another bluish net of the Power. Aren watched, trying to make sense of the Power as it faded away. Almost unnoticed until Aren caught it out of the corner of his eye, a third ship slowly spinning without guidance on the waters to his left, to the west, trailed dark smoke that grimly looked darker than the surrounding gloom of the dawn.
“It’s over,” escaped the relieved, yet trembling words of Aren he meant only for himself. Some of the crew and Trundiir gave him a quizzical glance. The rest looked on to the mess of the deck wondering what had happened. Most wore empty, confused faces, a sign of being disoriented by battle and the Power.
As if appearing from nowhere, the lean, dark-haired brother to Suhd ran to her, crouching down before embracing her with hugs and kisses while speaking words Aren couldn’t make out. The half Tellen Rogaan lay raising himself up on his elbows, then just watched them. A sincere smile grew on Rogaan’s face. If Aren wasn’t mistaken, the young half Tellen had a tear or two in his eyes.
“All of ya get ta tasks!” boomed the words from a blue-clothed crewman up on the command deck. Aren assumed him commander of this ship. “We have da river and a city ta be gettin’ ta.”
The crew immediately dispersed for riggings and rope lines and other things Aren didn’t know how to describe. The two green-clad warriors, who Aren now questioned their race as Baraan, tended to the slow-moving, red-clad warrior who still lay on the deck, his damaged armor smoking and with rising vapors as his two companions helped the big Baraan remove it piece by piece. Looking closer, Aren wasn’t certain the big fellow was Baraan, either. His head looked slightly elongated, his complexion, though brown with touches of green and with facial features like Baraans, looked unfading. Who are they? Aren questioned. All three of their looks, their appearance, were . . . off. What have I gotten myself into?
A pair of pinching jabs in Aren’s back reminded him there were those behind him of an untrusting nature. He slowly turned knees with his trembling hands clinging to his chest and the red and black hide wrap. Two rough-looking, sandy-haired Baraans, both barefoot and dressed in rags for clothes Aren was certain hadn’t been washed in some time by the odor, poked long daggers at him.
“What ya got der?” one of the rough-looking, dagger-armed crewmen asked in a manner Aren took as threatening. “Hand it over ta us, and we not be pokin’ ya.”
Aren didn’t know how to take the meaning of the demand. Alarmed the two wanted something more than the wrapping, he scrambled to his feet, then backed away. Bumping into something solid, Aren slowly and with a bit of trepidation raised his still trembling hand over his shoulder searching for what it was. Discovering a rock-hard face and jaw with a very short beard, Aren felt a sense of relief roll over him. He turned to confirm with his eyes it was the half Tellen, Rogaan.
“He is with me,” announced Rogaan, as if that should settle everything.
“No before he be givin’ over dat in his hands,” replied the other rough-looking crewman. Aren’s risen hope plunged at the words.
“He’s not to be harmed or stolen from,” the half Tellen accused and threatened.
“Ya no be givin’ da word here,” the first rough-looking crewman made his declaration. Their pair of long daggers then made at poking Aren again.
Strange the sensation that grabbed Aren’s attention . . . the long daggers quickly forgotten, completely. Strange the vibrations to him both new and unknown. Aren saw the half Tellen sense it too but seemed confused about what and where to look. Aren glimpsed the lines of Power curving about them as vibrations increased. He felt his flesh being tugged at, pulled apart, giving him alarm. He barked at Rogaan as he grabbed the half Tellen’s snapjaw hide chest protector trying to pull him down as Aren threw himself to the deck. “Down. Get down, you idiot!”
Rogaan resisted at first Aren’s tugging but then gave in to the pull on his chest armor. Both landed on their sides, then rolled on their stomachs as Aren covered his head with a hand. A burning sound filled his ears while his skin crawled as if plunged into a mound of crawlers and biters. He fought to endure the horrifying sensations on his skin and an urge to jump up and run. Then, the crawling sensations disappeared. So too gone were the vibrations. With a peek above his arms, the lines of the Power were gone. Aren sat up looking about. The aft elevated structure of the ship suffered a stride-wide hole with the hole’s bottom edge just a few hands higher than the deck. The
timbers had been completely cut through from the stern of the ship to this side of the raised structure enclosing the cabins. Looking through the smoldering hole, Aren saw the waters of the Ur and the distant smoking Khaaron in the gloomy dawn, still drifting on the river’s current, still without control. Whatever bore that hole in the big timbers and wood of the structure and cabins passed directly between the two green-clad warriors and over the now half-stripped red-clad warrior still lying on the deck planks. Both the green-clad warriors looked about with mouths agape at the damage to the ship and the several dead crew. Aren was certain the warriors both felt the Power before witnessing it too as they gave each other a fist-bump while wearing looks of relief.
Aren gasped as he looked to his right where the Power passed near him and the half Tellen. Standing erect were two pairs of legs. Near, Aren recognized the heads with upper chests of two crewmen laying on the deck. Both died with horrified expressions. The ship rolled slightly, toppling both sets of legs with dull thuds that ended up next to the severed heads. Aren let out his breath, relieved he too had not been in the Power’s path.
“What was that?” Rogaan asked in a calm, even tone.
“I don’t know its name . . .” answered Aren with a bit of frustration. A chill rippled up his back as he realized the reach and intensity of the manifested Power. Aren shouted out for everyone to hear. “It’s of the Power, of the Agni . . . the Shunned. Must get away from the Khaaron. He can still touch us.”