by Aderyn Wood
The girl looked frightened. “I don’t know, Princess. I only know that you arrived yesterday and I’ve been summoned to collect you. The Heir-Prince Hadanash wishes to see you.”
Heduanna let go her grip. How could it be that she’d only had a such a small sleep? The dragonshade had left her blood, she could no longer feel its effects and every part of her yearned for another dose of it. A hand went to her pouch resting safely within her tunic. It had been wrong, but Heduanna had grabbed a portion of the black stone when Rayna had gone into trance to heal her father. It was sitting there on the table, unguarded, so she took it. Soon, she would give her blood what it asked for.
But now she nodded to the girl. “I will come, shortly.”
The girl bobbed her head. “A palace guard awaits at the temple gates to escort you.”
Less than half a hand later, Heduanna strode through the passageway to her father’s suite and overheard shouting coming from the king’s office. She paused to listen.
“Someone must have seen her! A person can’t just disappear.” It was Hadanash.
Heduanna took a slow breath. He was talking about Yana. She lifted her chin and entered the office.
“Sweet Phadite!” Hadanash was shouting again as he paced the room. “Father’s first words are to see Yana and the girl is no where to be found. Sargan, you must know where she is. Do I need to whip it out of you?”
Sargan’s eyes went wide and he nearly screeched. “I’m just as perplexed as you are, brother.”
“Perhaps she went into the city.” Heduanna’s heart melted at the sound of Danael’s voice. “She does so nearly every day, with a guard of course.”
“Tarkan,” Hadanash addressed one of the guards. “Send a band of soldiers to search the city.”
“Yes, Heir-Prince.” The guard walked past her and Heduanna stepped further into the room and saw her two uncles were also present at this meeting.
“Ay, sister,” Hadanash said. “Do you happen to know where the duck-girl has gone?”
“She has a name, brother,” Sargan said with uncharacteristic bile in his tone.
“Indeed,” Hadanash flung a hand in the air. “Yana, have you seen her?” His eyes narrowed her way. “I understand you were walking the halls during the night. Sending Belanum to his furs, and visiting known traitors in the dungeons.”
Heduanna’s focus flicked around the room and she caught a look at Danael. His eyes longed for her and she nearly melted all the way to the floor. She snapped her attention back to her brother. She must not let him know about Yana, or he might send the guards for her. She opened her mouth to respond, but just then Tarkan returned to the office, his eyes wild.
“What is it?” Hadanash asked.
“A messenger, Heir-Prince.” Tarkan stepped aside and a shorter man came forward. His tunic was dirty, and his eyes haggard.
Hadanash frowned. “Bilal, you’re back already.”
Bilal, one of Hadanash’s more capable soldiers, nodded slowly and seemed to sway slightly. Heduanna narrowed her eyes on him. His lips were dry, his skin sun kissed.
“I bring dire tidings, Heir-Prince.” Bilal’s eyes darted around the room. “Is your father-king ready to hear it?”
“Our royal father is still too unwell for office,” Hadanash said. “You can relay your findings now. What did you see at the Sisters?”
“I didn’t make it to the Sisters.”
Hadanash grimaced. “Bablim then.”
Bilal shook his head. “Didn’t get there either. King Amar-Ra’s army marches.”
“Amar-Ra?” Uncle Thedor asked.
“Prince Rabi’s taken his name of rule, Uncle,” Sargan said. “He’s King Amar-Ra now, meaning he’s the Sun King. So very Rabi.”
“Go on,” Hadanash told the messenger.
Bilal shook his head, the look of hopelessness refused to leave his face and it made Heduanna want to reach out and slap him. They hadn’t lost Gedjon-Brak yet, there was no need to look so forlorn. “The biggest army I’ve ever seen,” he was saying. “There’s too many of them to come by galley, and so they’ve set out on foot. They’ll be here before the next moon.”
A new dread pounded in Heduanna’s heart.
“How many?” Danael took a step toward the messenger.
Bilal’s eyes went to Hadanash who nodded for him to answer. “By my reckoning, over fifty divisions.”
“What?” Sargan said, his eyes filled with fear. “That’s over—”
“Fifty thousand men,” Hadanash said. “Are you certain?”
“I’d say that would be the minimum. More will join them by river.”
“What of Uncle-General Mutat?” Sargan asked.
Again Bilal shook his head. “There’s been no word nor sign of them. I asked where I dared, but got no response. I assume he was finally defeated at Urgash.”
“How many of our leal armies have now entered the city?” Uncle Dannu spoke.
“There’s twenty contingents from Gordas, Phaebia and Lavak,” Uncle Thedor answered him.
Heduanna resisted the urge to kiss both her uncles on the cheek. If it weren’t for them the city would be in chaos. But Uncle Thedor’s face was grim as he spoke. “Urk, as we know have defected to the enemy. Tutenbad makes its way slowly across the desert and should be here within a quarter-moon with five contingents. There’s been no word from Higlash. My fear is they’ve gone the way of Urk, and we can no longer rely on their loyalty. But there’s more.”
Heduanna hands were sweaty fists and she forced them to unclench.
“Go on,” Hadanash said to Thedor.
Uncle Thedor’s face turned more grim as he spoke. “The sickness has spread throughout the city. It affects young and old, weak and strong. The deaths now number well over a thousand, and soldiers are not excluded. Yesterday, we sent five young men to Praeta for their funerary rites.”
Hadanash thumped the oval table. “We must act.”
“Our defences are ready,” Danael said.
Hadanash shook his head. “No. We’re not going to sit here like an injured cat.”
Heduanna frowned. “What are you thinking, brother?”
Hadanash’s eyes were two flames when he turned to face her. “We will meet them in the desert.”
“No.” Danael said. “We will have no advantage.”
“We will, the advantage of surprise,” Hadanash responded with a scowl. “It is the last thing they would expect.”
Images from Heduanna’s dreams filled her mind. Images of war galleys on the river. “That is not what I have foreseen,” she told her brother. “The war will occur on the river. It must be on the river if we are to defeat them, if we are to survive.” She looked at Danael directly. “You must train the Zraemians how to fight on the water as you Drakians do. Every soldier must have access to the river in the battle to come, and finally, we must begin evacuating the city. Those citizens who are unable to join in the fighting must be led to safety.”
Danael nodded. “I will begin immediately. The Praetan galleys are ready and waiting.”
“No,” Hadanash spoke. “That is not my order, and I am the heir-prince.”
“Even so, nephew,” Dannu spoke. “Your father has always followed Phadite’s messages. It is what he would do.”
Hadanash clenched his jaw as he cast a fiery glance Heduanna’s way once more. “Indeed, and look where it has got us. Our leal cities turn from us every day. We have the barbarians but they’ve brought a deadly disease among us. No, we will no longer allow the goddess’s mysterious guidance to waylay us. We will meet them in the desert.”
“No.” Danael’s voice was steady, but Hadanash turned his gaze of fire on him.
“No?” Hadanash said with undisguised contempt. “I am the heir-prince. You must do as I say.”
Danael’s nostrils flared. “The Drakain contingents will follow my orders, and my orders only. And I will tell them to stay to defend the city and to fight on the river as your goddess commands.”<
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Hadanash bared his teeth. “Mutat was right. You’re nothing but a barbarian cunt, and we should have made you all slaves.” He turned and left them.
The five of them remained silent for a handful of breaths, until Uncle Dannu broke the quiet by standing with a huff and making the lantern flames lean sideways. He stepped around the table until he came face to face with Heduanna. “You know I’ve always been a better soldier, a better admiral, than I’ve even been at politicking. I’ve gladly left that to your father. But the time is coming, niece, when we may have to surrender certain loyalties for the security of the city. And when that happens,” his grey eyes were like a sky before the rain. “You will have my backing.” He stepped back and glanced at his brother, Thedor, and then Sargan.
Thedor stood and bowed his head at her. “Mine too, Niece-princess.”
Heduanna glanced before the two of them. They were looking at her as the way forward. A way around the impasse of Hadanash and his foolhardy scheme to fight in the desert. She glanced to Sargan who gave her a nod, and Danael who stared at her with intense green eyes. Was this what Phadite had meant when she’d shown Heduanna sitting on a seat of power? That she herself would lead Azzuri to war? She opened her mouth to speak, but her uncle cut in again.
“Think on it. We shall all meet again soon.” With that Dannu nodded to the others and left, Thedor followed him out.
Heduanna slumped in the nearest chair and brought a hand to her head. “This is all so wearing.”
“Yes,” Sargan responded. “It’s times like these I wish I could speak with Qisht.”
“Don’t even mention the traitor’s name,” she said, giving Sargan a glare.
Sargan shrugged as he stood and left them also.
She put her face in her hands, and a moment later she felt the warm touch of her lover’s hand on the back of her neck, and her tension eased. “We must not allow Hadanash to fight in the desert. We wouldn’t win. It would be a slaughter. Urul has over twenty thousand slave spear-soldiers who would be set against us first.”
Heduanna remembered in a flash just how thoroughly Rabi despised slaves. He considered them expendable in the extreme. Rabi, now Amar-Ra, would be even worse a foe than his brother had been.
Danael cupped her chin gently and forced her to look at him. He bent and kissed her fully, caressing her teeth with his tongue, and making her hunger for more of him. But he drew apart and whispered in her ear. “I must go now. I missed you. Come to me tonight.”
Then he left too, and Heduanna was alone.
Part XXVI
The Great Zraemian Desert
Sommer
Seasonal Migration of the Cassite Tribe
5,846 years ago…
Yana
“You’re quite sure you’ll be all right?” The young bard called Enlil wore a look of unconcealed doubt on his face. “The desert is a harsh land, Rayna. It will take you to your death in less than a day if you are not experienced. I’m surprised Zamug would permit you to travel without a guide. Much less a camel.”
Grama waved a hand at him. “You worry over naught, young bard. You may leave, and you may take that farting beast with you.” She gestured to the camel. “Thank you for escorting us, and for seeing to our shelter and our meal. We will manage from now on.”
Enlil gave Yana a doubtful glance before returning his attention to her grandmother. “If you’re certain.”
“Quite certain.”
The young bard mounted the camel and cast them one more look of worry before he faced the darkness ahead of him and in a few short moments, he and the three camels disappeared completely.
Grama rubbed her hands together. “Right, lass.” She reverted to their speech, the mountain speech. “It’s time your lessons began.” She sat by the fire. Enlil had left with everything he’d brought them, but Grama produced a small bone pot from her satchel. She filled it with water and placed it on the coals of the fire.”
Yana frowned as she sat close. “What happens now?” They’d met Enlil during the night, and he’d made a fire, cooked them a meal and offered to hitch a tent for them to sleep. Yana was beyond exhausted, but she’d napped now and then on the camel she’d ridden with Grama during the day, and right now her eyes didn’t shut so often. But Enlil had left them, alone out here in the desert. Yana had spent enough time in Azzuri to know the Zraemians feared the desert the way Drakian’s feared the sea. But her grama had sent the boy back to his tribe, and they had no tent, no camel, and only two small bags of water and whatever else her grama had stashed in the little satchel.
Grama gave her a serious look as she pulled more items from her satchel. “You know of my intention to take you back with me to my mountain home, so that I can teach you the lore you must know for your gift.”
Yana nodded.
Grama pursed her lips as she unrolled a cloth. Inside, a small piece of black stone shone in the light of the fire. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, my girl. I was supposed to spend a good summer, or ten more like, teaching you everything you need to know. Showing you how to meditate. How to read the essence of others. How to sway them to do as you please.” Grama gave her wink. “Though I think you’ve tried a few of those things yourself on more than one occasion.”
Yana frowned. Knowing, but not knowing of what her grandmother spoke.
Her grama took the black stone in one hand, and a bone knife in the other, and sliced a shaving of the rock into the pot. Amazingly, the rock seemed as supple as butter, as though it weren’t a stone at all. Grama then returned the bone pot to the fire. “But we no longer have the time, my dear girl. No time at all.”
The water in the pot simmered and a bitter scent filled the air. Rhast squawked, making Yana jolt and he landed on the ground nearby. She blinked. Yana had rarely seen Rhast on the ground, though there were so few places to perch in the desert.
She turned her attention back to her grandmother who was taking the pot off the fire. “What is it?”
“Dragonshade. It aids the gift, giving power and energy. I need it to help me get us where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?”
“A place far away, to the north-west. A mountain range called the Dragonshade Mountains. It’s where Argath is.”
Yana frowned. “Argath? The person Heduanna mentioned?”
“Aye, lass. Though Argath isn’t a person.”
“An animal then?”
“Yes, I suppose you’d call him an animal.”
“Why must I meet him?”
Grama blew over the pot helping it to cool. “You and him are linked.” Grama swirled the cup before her.
“Do I need to drink some?” Yana wrinkled her nose. She hoped not. The bitter stench was enough to turn her stomach, she dreaded to think what it must taste like.
Grama looked at her. “I very much doubt you’ll ever need it.”
“Why?”
Grama lifted the cup in front of her, said “Scullza” in Drakian, and gulped the wretched drink down. She threw the pot over her shoulder and the grimace on her face told Yana her suspicions about the taste were true.
Her grama stood with the sprightliness of a mountain goat, and shook her hands and feet while rolling her head from side to side. Then she turned her gaze on Yana, and the girl sucked in her breath. Her grandmother’s eyes were almost entirely black.
Rhast squawked, but Yana couldn’t move her eyes from her grandmother who now approached chanting strange words. A hand shot out from beneath her feathered cloak and touched Yana’s forehead and Yana suddenly felt very sleepy. Her eyes grew heavy and her vision swirled. In the glow of the coals she thought she saw her grandmother shimmer and transform. Her arms extended, and the feather cloak became actual wings. Rather than Grama standing before her, a giant bird appeared. A raven like Rhast, only its squawk was so loud it filled her mind as well as her ears, and Yana’s knees buckled. But when she fell, she rested on warm soft feathers, and then they were flying. Circling ever
up. The small red glow of the fire’s coals grew dimmer with every wingbeat.
She turned onto her front fully. She was straddling the giant raven and they were flying over the desert. Above, the stars shimmered their white fire in the vast blackness. Below, the desert sands rolled by, and appeared more like the sea. The warm wind flew threw her hair and Yana laughed. “Grama,” she yelled. “Higher!”
The raven squawked and Yana laughed as they flew over the desert.
“Yana.”
Yana’s eyes snapped open and she looked to her left. She’d thought it was her mother who’d woken her, but it was Grama. Of course.
She sat up and wiped her eyes. It was daylight, early morning, and they were in the mountains. Grama sat on a boulder, and once again wore her feathered cloak. Rhast was nowhere in sight. A fire burned before them.
“You were the raven,” Yana said simply.
“Aye.”
“Is that the kind of magic I’ll learn? When you begin teaching me?”
Her grandmother looked glum. “That and more. Though your talents will surpass mine own, lass.”
“Does it hurt?” Yana asked.
“It does, to begin with. But not enough to kill you.”
Yana nodded. “And you need me to help Azzuri. Because they will stop the spread of the dark magics from the east.”
“That’s right, lass.”
Yana pursed her lips. “Can you see mother with your magics, Grama? Can I see her?”
Grama nodded slowly. “Aye, I’ll teach you that too, lass. But you mustn’t worry about your Ma. She knows how to take care of herself. In any case, once we finish with Azzuri you and I shall return to Drakia. There’s much that needs to be done there too.”
“You mean the Halkans?”
“Aye.”
“Do they use dark magic as well?” Yana remembered Sidmon’s strange eyes.
“We believe so.”
“We?”
Grama gave her a smile and looked past Yana’s shoulder. “Lass, it’s time you met the mountain-folk,” she gestured and Yana turned.