by B. K. Boes
“I’m not hungry,” Kaela said, but Momma handed her the meat, and she took it anyway. She nibbled at the edge, licking her lips at the saltiness of the dried hare. She worked the tough pieces of meat between her teeth as she waited.
Before she could finish her snack, Poppa returned, announcing his presence with the rocking of the sandsled as he hopped up into the driver’s seat.
The movement woke Momma, who had fallen asleep with a half-eaten piece of dried meat in hand. She stretched and yawned. “Did you find them?” she asked as she rubbed her eyes.
“Yes,” Poppa said. “They’ve already been here for a few days and are ready to move.”
“I wanted to go to the market!” Kaela groaned.
“Don’t you want to meet our new friends?” Momma asked.
“I guess so…” Kaela sighed as the sandsled lurched forward.
When the Hodda finally stopped traveling for the day, Kaela hopped down from her family’s sandsled to take a look at her new tribesmen. She’d fortified her walls and felt ready to make introductions.
About a hundred families were pitching temporary lean-tos, and a group of children were playing several yards from the perimeter of the camp. Kaela could have joined the children in their games earlier as they had run ahead and waited for the adults to catch up. But she couldn’t tell from a distance if the other children would invite her into their group, and she hadn’t felt like risking it yet, as her walls were weakened in the face of so much newness. The effects of the mountain had faded shortly after leaving.
Now that the sun was going down, her walls were firmly in place, and the tribe was no longer moving, Kaela thought it might be easier to assess the situation.
There wasn’t much sunlight left as the adults worked to set up camp. The sandsleds would remain loaded and hitched to their sandbeasts until the Hodda decided to settle for a few spans. Kaela eyed the children playing between the camp and the herd of sandbeasts nearby. She decided to wander in that direction, but at a reasonable distance, hoping the children would invite her over.
“Hey! Hey, you!” called one of the girls.
Kaela pointed at herself. “Me?”
The other children were watching now, and a few of them laughed. The girl folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Who else?” She waved her arm in an exaggerated motion. “Come on,” she said.
Relief dissolved her uncertainty in mere seconds. She closed the gap between her and the others with a nice show of skillful skipping. Get them off of cartwheels, she thought. Just in case they were thinking of them.
“What’s your name?” asked the girl. The other children gathered around. Kaela would’ve answered right away, except she was busy staring at the girl’s hair. It was soft and brown and cut up to her chin, much shorter than any girl’s hair Kaela had ever seen.
“Her name’s Kaela,” said a boy, his chest puffed up a little. He stood up straighter though he was already taller than the others. “I’m Orlin.”
“How did you know my name?” Kaela asked, pulling her eyes away from the girl and onto him. It annoyed her for him to be answering a question on her behalf, especially since she had no idea who he was.
“Or-lin,” he repeated slowly, widening his dark brown eyes as he spoke. “Don’t you know who I am?” His mouth dropped open, and Kaela felt the faint impression of disbelief, even though her walls were up, which meant the emotion must have been a strong one.
“Why should I know who you are? I just got here!” Kaela thought it unfair the way the boy looked at her with mouth open and face bunched up, like he was disgusted by her ignorance.
The girl who had called to her at first giggled. “Orlin is the Patriarch’s grandson,” she said.
“Oh.” Kaela’s cheeks felt hot, and she stammered as she tried to recover. If Momma or Poppa had mentioned the boy’s name, she hadn’t been paying attention. So they might as well not have said anything at all. “Well… I did just arrive. And… well… I’m nearly sure no one told me your name.”
“Of course they did,” Orlin said with a huff. He balled his fists and shoved them toward the ground at his sides. Kaela winced as a pinpricking sensation began at the nape of her neck. She fortified her inner walls, and it began to fade. She hated feeling even the faintest impressions of the hateful sort of anger. The longer she was exposed, the more it made her skin crawl.
Thank the Sustainer for Sava, she thought. Without her grandmother’s teaching, she wouldn’t know how to block those emotions.
“Anyway,” the girl said, stepping a little closer. “My name’s Tanni. Or-lin,” she said his name slowly like he had earlier and rolled her eyes in his direction, “is just mad because he thinks he’s so important.”
Orlin’s face turned red. Another of the boys snickered, and the rest of the children went silent. Kaela gasped when Orlin kicked the boy in the shin and pushed him to the ground. She moved to help him up, but Tanni grabbed her arm and shook her head once. Orlin spun around to leave.
“Stupid girls,” he shouted as he stomped away. On cue, the other boys followed, including the boy who had been kicked.
“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” Kaela said as she rubbed the back of her neck. She watched him and his friends go with a touch of disappointment. She wasn’t sure how it was supposed to go, meeting her future husband, but she was sure that wasn’t it. And the fact that Orlin had been allowed to take out his anger on his friend without any consequences wasn’t comforting. The momentary anger she’d felt from him left her wondering if they would ever get along.
How can I like such a hateful, angry person?
Tanni put her arm around Kaela as if they had been friends all their lives. “Don’t worry. Compliment him later, and he’ll forget all about it.”
“My Sava says, ‘Those who crave compliments don’t deserve them.’” Sava’s lessons were always swirling around in Kaela’s head, and they tended to pop out whenever the situation seemed to call for it. Even if, after thinking it through, Kaela should have kept her lessons to herself. Sava also said good manners were of upmost importance. Embarrassed for insulting Orlin a second time, Kaela felt her cheeks grow hot.
But the other girls only giggled until Kaela forgot her embarrassment and joined them. When the laughter died down, and they were wiping the tears from their eyes, Kaela felt strangely comfortable around these girls she had only just met.
“So,” Kaela said, indicating the others, “What are your names?”
“I’m Rinn,” said a freckled, darkly tanned girl. Her thick sun-kissed, brown hair was braided down the back, and her voice was small. She sank into her shoulders and pulled at her fingers when she talked.
“Fey,” nodded another, bigger girl. She seemed at least a head taller than Kaela, and her frame was wide from her shoulders to her hips.
There were two younger girls, too. One named Em, and the other, Ilsa. They didn’t say much, except to agree with the older girls enthusiastically at every turn.
They played together for a while, kicking a ball made of a sandbeast’s bladder. But as they played, Kaela kept looking back toward the camp, hoping to see Orlin and wishing she had known his name. Maybe then, the air around him would have felt different. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have this sinking feeling about her future.
Chapter Sixteen
Moloch
Radelle Road, Ergon
12th Cycle of Chenack
986 Post Schism
“This is crazy, Moloch,” Bram said for the thousandth time.
The road they traveled paralleled the northern edge of the Radelle Mountains, stretching from Ergon’s eastern border to its western coast. Moloch and Bram had been traveling on foot for nearly a span.
“He said he would meet me if I came to him,” Moloch said, repositioning his pack and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Well, I’m coming, and Lord Nondrum will speak with me, whether he wants to or not.”
“Ergon isn’t safe country,” Bram said. “The farther
west we go, the more we risk running into Adikean bands.”
Moloch shrugged. “This road is the most heavily guarded in all of Ergon.”
“That’s not saying much. We should have brought sandbeasts,” Bram frowned. “My feet hurt.”
“You’re here to keep me safe,” Moloch said. “I couldn’t ask for better protection. And we have no pikkans or sandbeasts, so we have nothing to steal. No women to tempt the Adikeans. Even if bandits spotted us from a perch in the mountains, they would dismiss us. We have nothing they would want.”
“Moloch—”
“We’re not turning back.”
Bram’s shoulders sagged. “All right. Fine.”
“We’re almost there, anyway.”
Bram sighed and stopped. “I have to say something, and I don’t think you’ll like it.”
Moloch stopped too and turned to face Bram. “What?”
“Lord Nondrum couldn’t refuse you outright because of who you are, but this—” Bram waved his hand all around. “This was his way of saying no.”
“His letter was very specific. The Ergonian king has him on a tour of the nation in his name. To bolster spirits and give an extra show of force in the west. If I wanted to meet him, I’d need to come to the Western Pass.” Moloch pointed southwest into the mountains. “It’s close, Bram. And when I get there, he’ll have no choice but to follow through.”
Bram blinked a few times and let out a short burst of breath. “You knew. Of course you did.”
Moloch nodded once, his jaw set. “I’m not an idiot, Bram.”
“Of course not.” Bram looked down at the ground for a moment and then back up, meeting Moloch’s eyes. “You really want to marry this girl, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Moloch could feel it in his bones. “Junia is different. Besides the fact that I need this match to secure my future, she’s exactly what I’m looking for in a wife. I’d want her even if I didn’t need her connections.”
Bram’s shoulders slumped. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Moloch accepted Bram’s hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.
It only took another two days for Moloch and Bram to come to the sign carved into a giant rock at the crossroads. An arrow pointing west toward the coast read: Radelle Road and Chavtrion River. An arrow pointing north, into Ergon’s farmland, read: Lamar’s Foothills and Zoran Estate. And then, the direction they were looking for, an arrow pointing south, into the Radelle Mountains: Western Pass.
For the rest of the day, he and Bram traveled without so much as a hint of another soul. The Radelle Mountains were rocky and mostly bare. The road to the Western Pass was bordered by high, natural stone walls. Only a few evergreen trees sprouted here and there. Occasionally, Moloch and Bram would spot a path that led deeper into the mountains, branching off from the main road, probably to some little mountain village.
When the sun began to set, they decided to make camp. They followed one of the paths up a little way, then ventured up a shallow slope toward a cluster of evergreens. Making a fire was quick work with the aid of dried nettles which covered the ground beneath the trees. They had to clear a space and make a circle of rock, filling the inside with the nettles. Broken branches were easy to find, too. Two strikes of Bram’s flint and steel began the spark. Soon, the two men were sitting by the fire, eating dried meat and a piece of stale bread.
“We should reach the Pass tomorrow,” Moloch said as he finished eating and brushed the crumbs off his tunic.
“I hope Lord Nondrum is there.” Bram rolled out a mat.
“He said he would be.” Moloch followed suit and lay down.
“Yes, but if we missed him—”
“If we find the army, we’ll find Nondrum. They’re supposed to be camped on this side of the Western Pass.”
Bram nodded. “Right.”
“Good night, Bram.”
Bram mumbled a reply and tucked the blade of his dagger under the mat, rolled up his cloak for a pillow, and lay down with one hand on the hilt. Moloch rolled over to face the trunk of an evergreen. The night air was sweet with the scent of sap and nettles. The fire crackled softly, and Bram began to snore. Moloch closed his eyes to sleep, but thoughts of what he would say to Lord Nondrum kept him from drifting off completely.
His thoughts were cut off by the snap of a twig. Moloch sat up and peered into the darkness. “Bram!” he whispered sharply, but the bodyguard was already sitting up, dagger at the ready, listening as he got to his feet.
An arrow cut the air and landed in the trunk behind Moloch. A man’s voice came from the dark. “You are surrounded. Put your weapon down.”
“I think we found our army,” Bram said as he lowered his dagger.
Panic rose up in Moloch. “How do you know it’s not a band of Adikean warriors?”
“Because,” Bram said. “We’d be dead.”
“Smart man,” came the same voice as a man stepped out of the dark. A man with bow and arrow raised and another with a small axe at the ready stepped within the fire’s light, their faces still shrouded in dark. “What are two Eikonians doing in the Radelle Mountains?”
“How did you guess where we’re from?” Moloch asked.
“The one with the dagger is too pale to be from anywhere else. And you, your accent gives you away.”
“We’re here to see Lord Nondrum,” Moloch said, with as much authority as he could muster. “My father is Lord Sarrem, Duke of Pytar and Chief Military Advisor to King Shamylle.”
“We know who Lord Sarrem is,” said the man, spitting in the dirt. “Your father, the Eikonian war hero, has a different story here in Ergon.”
Moloch furrowed his brow. “This isn’t about my father, but I do carry his influence. I suggest you lower your weapons. Lord Nondrum told me of his location, requesting I come to him if I wanted an audience. And I do.”
The two archers lowered their bows.
“Lord Nondrum has one last tour of the mountain villages. He’s got four villages left, and then we move to the foothills. His mission here is too important to be interrupted by a snot-nosed Eikonian aristocrat.”
“Take me to him, and let him deny me, then.” Moloch stood up slowly. “If you turn me away, you will face his wrath. He gave me his word that if I came to him, he would give me an ear.”
“Lord Nondrum is honorable,” the man said. “I will take you to him. But the moment he signals me, I will personally take you back to Radelle Road.”
“How far is your camp?” Bram asked. “We’ve been traveling on foot all day. My young master needs rest.”
“Come with me now, or go home in the morning,” the man said.
“We’ll come.” Moloch rolled up his mat, and Bram did the same. They put out the fire, scattering the coals and stomping it out to preserve their water.
The man led the way, and the two archers brought up the rear. They walked back to the main road in silence, and then traveled through the night in the same fashion. Bram stayed near, and Moloch could tell his senses were on high alert.
Hours later, they rounded a turn in the road. Hundreds of fires were burning on the cliffs of the mountains here. The scent of sulfur hit Moloch, and he coughed, his eyes watering.
“The fumes won’t harm us here,” their leader said. “But we can’t do anything about the smell.”
“You mean the Mavyem Valley? We’re close enough to smell it?” Moloch asked.
The thought wasn’t comforting. The Mavyem Valley, which cut the Radelle Mountains in half from west to east, was filled with acidic springs. No man could cross them. The ground was unsteady, the springs making it almost fluid in some areas where a crust of solid ground hid the danger. A man would dissolve in minutes, all the while in agony, if he fell into the acidic springs. Even if he managed not to expose his body to the acid, the poisonous fumes would kill him halfway across.
“You sure it’s safe?” Moloch said, peering into the darkness beyond the camp. They we
re hundreds of feet above the valley. The Western Pass connected several plateaus to form a way across the valley from above and had been used for thousands of years. But, knowing that didn’t stop his inhibitions.
“You Eikonians don’t know everything,” the man said. “Just follow me. Lord Nondrum won’t want to be woken at this hour. You’ll sleep until daybreak and then I will take you to him.”
Moloch followed the man up into the mountain, climbing a steeper path to a level cliff. A dozen men were gathered around a fire, all of them sleeping except one. As the man led Moloch and Bram up to the camp site, the Ergonian soldier on night watch addressed him.
“What have we here, Kole? A couple of Eikonian stragglers?”
“Watch yourself, Den. We’ve got a Lord Sarrem on our hands.” Kole laughed and gave Moloch the slightest of shoves forward. “He’s here to see Lord Nondrum.”
“Ah.” Den playfully kicked a few of the sleeping soldiers gathered around the fire. They sat up, confused. “Then we best make room near the fire,” he said. “Go on, men, make room.”
“They can sleep here,” Kole said, gesturing the ground beneath them, just on the outskirts of the circle of men. The two woken men groaned, lay back down, and were snoring within seconds. “Wake our guests up at dawn. I’ll come to get them.” Kole turned to leave but paused. “And Den?”
“Yes?” Den didn’t look at Kole, instead grinning foolishly at Moloch and Bram.
“No matter our opinions, if anything… unsavory… were to happen to Lord Sarrem, I’m afraid some heads would have to roll.”
Den’s smile disappeared. He looked at Kole, apparently his superior, and nodded. “I’ll take good care of them,” he said, gulping audibly. “I swear. Nothing bad will happen.”
“Good.” Kole left without another word.
“Well, my lord,” Den said. “Lay out your mats and get to sleeping. There’s only a few hours left of night. I’ll be on watch. No need to worry.”