The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Reaching up, he fingered a globe. It wasn’t a large as the ones in the work-room and it was very hard, but he suspected it would change as it ripened. Continuing down the line, he looked around. The placement of the trees was too regular, too deliberate. He had to be in an orchard.

  To his left, he heard a sound, almost like the snick of pruning shears. He shifted in that direction, stepping over the rows. He came across a group of Wryn, harvesting the green globes from the trees. They worked in pairs, one using a long curved blade to cut the stem and another to catch the fruit as it fell. The globes were then loaded into large bags, woven like their clothing.

  They paused as he came into view and gave him a sharp inclination of their heads. Then they went back to their harvest. As he looked through the trees, he saw other clusters of workers doing the same thing, stretching away as far as he could see.

  He moved to the closest bag and picked up one of the globes, turning it over in his hands. This one plant provided everything the Wryn and Delphi needed. It fed them, clothed them, built their cities. If the crop should suddenly fail, so would this oddly beautiful society. It made him feel melancholy, made him reflect on the thin balance of life. Right now, it was also keeping him and Tyla alive and he didn’t even know the name of it. He would have to ask Zimran when he got back. Replacing the fruit, he lifted the rocks in his hand and turned them over. There was so much about this island, about these people that he didn’t understand.

  A cry of alarm broke the stillness of the morning, echoed by a cacophony of shouts. The Wryn around him went still, but a moment later, they scattered, scrambling to put trees between them and the cries. More Wryn passed him as he stepped between the rows, headed toward the noise.

  He crossed around the trunk of a particularly large mushroom tree and came to a dead stop. Wryn raced around him, running in the opposite direction, their eyes wild, the white tuffs of hair standing on end. Behind them was a strange creature, walking on all fours.

  It had a sloping head, short front legs and longer back legs. The front legs bowed outward at the elbows and ended in long, hooked claws. It swung its large head around and zeroed in on Jarrett as the Wryn scrambled around him. Its almond-shaped eyes were large and amber colored with vertical pupils, and a fork tongue flicked out, tasting the air.

  Jarrett shivered in revulsion. It reminded him of an Orahim, but little intelligence shown out of its reptilian eyes. Along the ridge of its spine were small hard knobs, colored dark brown near the crest of its head to lighter green along its thick, whipping tail.

  Keeping one eye fixed on the man, it reached out and speared an orb with its claws, pulling the fruit to it. Lowering its head, it sank sharp yellow teeth into the skin and tore it away. Then it began eating the soft flesh on the inside.

  Jarrett’s attention was riveted on the curve of its claws. He figured he’d just met the animal that had maimed the Wryn a few days before. Without finishing the first globe, it reached for another, breaking the skin and sticking its snout inside.

  By the size of its body, Jarrett figured it could destroy a huge number of the orbs without finishing a single one. The Wryn’s harvest must be a bounty for it, so many orbs piled up just to be sampled.

  He looked behind him and saw a few Wryn peeking out from behind the trees. Why weren’t they doing anything to protect their harvest? They had their curved knives for cutting the fruit. It would at least allow them to defend their food source.

  When the creature reached for a third globe, Jarrett couldn’t ignore the destruction any more. He lifted his arms and took a step toward the creature, waving them over his head.

  “Hey!” he shouted, feinting toward it.

  Startled, it ducked, then it rose up, hissing at him.

  Jarrett stopped moving and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t really want to tangle with it for two reasons. He didn’t want to kill something for wanting food, and most importantly, he didn’t want to tangle with something that had such claws.

  “Get out of here!” he shouted at it.

  But instead of leaving, it stepped over an orb, its claws clicking against the dirt.

  Jarrett stood his ground, curling his fingers around the hilt.

  It hissed again, lowering its head as if it might charge.

  Reflexively, Jarrett’s fingers tightened on the rocks in his hands. If he could just get it to back down, he wouldn’t have to fight it, but he knew if he turned tail now and ran, it would be on him in a second. Opening his hand, he glanced down at the rocks. An idea struck him and he dropped the larger of the two into his right hand.

  Hauling back his arm, he beamed the rock at the creature’s face. His aim was true and the rock struck the animal between the eyes. However, the rock exploded on impact, knocking the creature over onto its back.

  Both Jarrett and the animal were stunned. Jarrett went still, holding the other rock, while the creature just lay without moving, its legs pointed up in the air. Staring in bewilderment at the rock in his hand, he carefully laid it down at his feet and drew his sword, advancing toward the creature lying on its back. He was afraid he might have killed it. He’d never expected the rock to explode.

  Just as he got within striking distance, the lizard gave a convulsive shiver and frantically kicked its legs, succeeding in falling over onto its right side, then it scrambled up and took off running away from the orchard, disappearing into the trees as fast as it could.

  Jarrett stopped moving and watched after it, amazed by what happened. A sudden cacophony of sound erupted behind him and the Wryn appeared again, sliding out from behind the trees and coming to him to pat him on the back.

  * * *

  Kalas glanced up as Dolan entered his study. He stopped before Kalas’ desk and clasped his hands behind his back. Kalas gave him a questioning look, but he still didn’t speak.

  Leaning back in his chair, Kalas frowned at him. “Dolan, are we ever going to get beyond the need for ceremony?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  Kalas raised one brow. Well, then. “What information do you have for me?”

  “The Baron is having the coordinates plotted, then he’ll begin provisioning your ship.”

  “My ship?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “What ship?”

  “The King’s ship, the Queen Astaral.”

  “The Queen Astaral? When did I get a ship?”

  “Lord Tarnow commissioned it prior to his death. He had a great fondness for sailing.”

  “I see. Very good then.” He leaned forward and began looking over the hospital reports on the plague again, but Dolan did not move. Glancing up, he squinted at him. “Anything else?”

  “A letter was delivered to the gate this morning.”

  “From?”

  Dolan produced the letter from behind his back. “Quinn Laurel.”

  Kalas held out his hand to receive it, reaching for the letter opener with his other hand. He tore along the seam of the envelope and shook the letter onto the desk, then he folded it open. One line dominated the page, written in a fine, curving script.

  Surrender the woman or face annihilation.

  Kalas held it out to Dolan.

  His second quickly scanned it, then passed it back. “That’s vexing.”

  Kalas gave him a bewildered look. Now that had to be humor. “Vexing?”

  “It would have been nice to know what form the annihilation would take, but he seems particularly vague on that.”

  “How do we know the letter’s from Quinn Laurel? He didn’t exactly sign it.”

  “The Nazarien who delivered it promptly dropped dead.”

  Kalas absorbed that information. “Now that’s vexing,” he said.

  “It is.”

  Pushing himself to his feet, he wandered to the windows and looked out at the balcony. Ellette was sitting on the bench, her legs curled under her, reading a book. “He means Ellette, doesn’t he?”

  “I wou
ld assume so.”

  Kalas’ eyes shifted to the waves. “They leave me with little choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All Nazarien who are not directly connected to the Kazden Cult and cleared by Attis will have to be driven from the city.”

  “What about Stravad that aren’t affiliated with either group?”

  “They’ll have to go as well.”

  “Isn’t that a harsh punishment, Your Majesty?”

  Kalas turned to face him. “What would you have me do? Turn Ellette over to him?”

  “Obviously that is not the answer, but a forced exodus seems particularly rash.”

  Kalas sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know. At least double the guard on the manor house and see she is outfitted with any weapons of her choice.”

  Dolan’s expression grew troubled and Kalas braced himself for an argument, but he didn’t say anything. With a slight bow, he turned on his heel and walked from the room. Kalas turned back to the window and watched the sun touch Ellette’s hair, streaking it a light shade of brown.

  CHAPTER 22

  Tyla took a seat on the sleeping shelf and picked up one of Zimran’s rocks. She turned it over and over in her hand, pressing it with the pad of her thumb. It looked like a million other rocks, a million other pieces of cast-off. She flaked away a slice with her thumb nail.

  I always thought I could neutralize it, find something to counteract the symptoms. If one type of pycantra caused the disease, another might cancel it out.

  Her father’s words came back to her, but had they been his words or a product of her feverish, ill mind?

  This morning the coughing had returned as usual, but there hadn’t been blood and she hadn’t had a fever in more than two days. Breathing was easier as well. She had to believe the rapid shift in her health came from the rocks, but now that they’d found the answer, she had to get back to Kazden. Other people were dying, while she and Jarrett languished here. If she could collect a basket of these rocks, they would last for generations. One rock would be enough to cure thousands of people.

  And Kerrin needed her. For the first time in months, she could envision a future with her son, watching him become a man, have children of his own. Longing for him was like a physical pain inside of her.

  But that brought her thoughts full circle to Jarrett. Seeing that she was better, he’d taken his spears and went to the orchard with Avendale to train other Wryn with the weapons. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to arm them, but she understood why he wanted to give them some defense. They owed the Wryn so very much. Zimran had saved her life and Jarrett needed some way to repay them.

  As much as she wanted to go home, she dreaded facing a life without Jarrett again. He was Nazar. His place was in Chernow with an order that badly needed direction and guidance. He would never be able to live with her and Kerrin in Temeron, and she wouldn’t leave her people. Not now, not when she’d almost lost them. To move Kerrin and Tash from their home was unthinkable.

  Zimran appeared in the doorway.

  She looked up, setting the rock on the table again. “Hello, my friend.”

  “Ty-la, venir meca.” He made a motion with his hands.

  “Come with you?”

  He nodded and motioned with his hands again. Tyla rose to her feet and followed him. He led her into the common domes, passing other Wryn at work. They always ducked their heads to her as if to show respect. She was learning to do the same.

  He took her to the sun and moon door. Tyla hesitated, glancing around the main dome. Jarrett was off in the orchard and she was here alone. She didn’t have any desire to go into the arena and see the Delphi again.

  Zimran looked back at her. “Ty-la, venir meca.” He motioned at the door and as he did so, it swung open.

  Immediately Tyla could feel the pulsation of the Delphi’s thoughts; they hammered at her mind, trying to breach the barrier she constructed against them. At her breast, the emerald began to pulse with green light.

  Curling her hands into fist, she stepped forward and followed him into the arena. As soon as they moved through the door, it closed at their backs. Tyla turned, surveying it. She could see no mechanism to open it, no handle, no pulleys, nothing to indicate how it was done, except through powerful telekinetics.

  Zimran led her down into the bowl of the arena and Tyla lifted her head, surveying the collection of Delphi crowding the seats around them. She wondered if this is where they lived their lives, sitting on the benches and sharing their every thought with each other. The cacophony of their conversation buzzed in her head, held at bay by her own power and the concentration of the emerald.

  Zimran moved to the middle of the bowl and pressed his hands together, then he bowed his head in obeisance. The volume of thoughts increased for a moment, then fell off. Tyla turned a circle, studying the strange white creatures with their overly large black eyes and sloping heads. They all wore flowing robes made from the green orbs and she simply could not distinguish between the sexes like she could with the Wryn. It seemed inconceivable that they lived in this arena, but she saw no indication that they ever left it, except the few times she’d encountered them outside the domes.

  Zimran rose to his full height and backed up, until he was a step behind her. He motioned into the center of the arena and gave her a reassuring nod. Tyla stepped forward and the emerald flared to life, a warm flow of green light washing around her body.

  The hum of thoughts suddenly increased. The only comparison she could make would be a crowd of people suddenly exclaiming in surprise or delight. Directly in front of her, a Delphi raised its hand and the thoughts subsided.

  This Delphi wore a band of green fabric around its head. Tyla wondered if it were a designation of rank or something. No other Delphi had such distinction. She moved until she was directly before this one. It was easier to focus on a single being than an entire society.

  Zimran stepped up behind her.

  As her eyes locked on the Delphi, she felt the pulse of its thoughts, a single pulse. She opened her mind to allow it entrance. Again the pulse, a faint touch sliding away again. Tyla concentrated. She could recognize the familiarity of the pattern, clearly an attempt to communicate, but the thought was foreign, unique.

  “I don’t understand,” she said aloud, then tried to convey her confusion without words.

  The Delphi slowly blinked its large, dark eyes, then its focus shifted to Zimran. She could feel the thoughts flow toward the Wryn, away from her and she knew they were communicating. After a moment, the Wryn ducked his head again. For some reason, she was getting the impression that this Delphi was male.

  “Eam nomin es Ty-la,” Zimran said.

  Tyla recognized that. “Yes, my name is Tyla.” She touched the center of her chest, below the glow of the emerald.

  The Delphi’s eyes dropped to the talisman and fixed.

  “My name is Tyla,” she repeated and then formulated it into a thought.

  Zimran touched her elbow. “Eum nomin es Revic.” He held out his hand, palm up toward the Delphi with the green band on his head. “Revic.”

  Tyla smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. Pressing her hands together as Zimran had done, she gave him a slight bow of obeisance. “Pleased to meet you, Revic. I am Tyla from Temeron. I am Stravad.”

  She could feel the pulse of his thoughts, probing, trying to find entrance. She allowed him to search for a bit, then she shoved him forcefully away. She wanted him to know she could control the situation.

  However, the moment she rebuffed him, the rest of the Delphi erupted in alarm. They had felt it, knew what she had done. Tyla had never experienced such a display of communal thoughts before. When Stravad communicated, it was between two people, although when she thought about it, she did remember her grandfather mentioning that her father had intercepted thoughts between Tash and his brother, Tav. Still, the Delphi carried this ability to a far more sophisticated degree.

  With a lift of his
hand, Revic silenced them. He tilted his head and studied the emerald, then he pointed at it and made a motion as if he wanted her to give it to him.

  “Oh, that’s not happening,” she said, shaking her head and curling a hand around the gem.

  His motions became more pronounced and she could feel the force of his thoughts as if he were shouting at her.

  She shook her head again.

  Rising to his feet, he focused on Zimran. Tyla turned and studied the Wryn. He was clearly conflicted between the direct order he’d been given and his loyalty to Tyla. She took the decision away from him and stepped forward.

  “No,” she said firmly. As she did so, the emerald flared and a brief pulsation of energy left it and swept outward like a gust of wind, startling the Delphi.

  Revic took a seat and stared at her.

  She smiled grimly. “Now that we’ve established some boundaries, why don’t we give this communication thing another try?”

  * * *

  “Don’t do this, Kalas. You’re risking your life needlessly. I can appoint a squad to go, a group of highly trained soldiers.” Parish leaned forward, pressing his hands to Kalas’ desk.

  Kalas glanced over his shoulder at him. “We aren’t going to continue this conversation, Baron. I am going.”

  “Talk some sense into him,” Parish said, turning to Dolan.

  Kalas’ brows rose as his attention shifted to his second.

  Dolan looked down. “He will do as he chooses. I cannot dissuade him.”

  Rounding on Ellette where she perched in a chair before the desk, Parish held out his hand. “Then you talk to him. Tell him how unnecessary this trip is. They already burned one ship and we couldn’t stop them. They’ve shot at him how many times? One of these times, they’re going to get lucky.”

  Ellette met Kalas’ gaze. “I will not tell him to stay behind. Not in this.”

  Parish slapped his hands against his thighs.

  “Then I will,” came Attis’ voice. He was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You have no right to take the risks you do.”