Wanderer's Song

by P. E. Padilla

  54

  The party rested for the remainder of the day. Tere Chizzit was able to bring down a deer near midday, and they dressed it and cooked it for both their lunch and dinner, leaving some to cook more thoroughly and take with them for their trip.

  Their mood was not light, but neither was it morose. To Aeden, it had the sense of a group of people with a job to do. From the others, he felt resignation, resolution, and maybe mild anticipation of what the next few days would hold. Conversation was stilted, probably from the arguments earlier in the day, but as evening approached, full stomachs and rested bodies began to loosen the mood. By the time they were ready to leave in the morning, hard feelings seemed to have been forgotten and only one thing mattered: the completion of their mission.

  It took less than half a day to get to where Fahtin had escaped amongst the trees. Aeden smelled it long before they could see it. The place was a mess of trampled foliage and animaru bodies strewn about and beginning to decompose.

  “There is the leader, over there,” Fahtin said, pointing with one hand while holding a silk scarf over her mouth and nose. Aeden almost swallowed a fly and decided she had the right idea. He took a rough cloth kerchief from his pocket and held it to his own face.

  The lump she pointed to was larger than most of the others, and hairier. It did look like the leader they had seen. Urun went to the body and took a long look at it. “Yes, that’s him,” he said. “His magic didn’t save him this time.” He made some sort of sign with his hand. Was that a salute, some form of respect for a foe?

  The Croagh noticed that Urun neither had a cloth to his face nor did the smell—or even the buzzing flies—seem to inconvenience the priest. In fact, a closer look showed that the flies avoided him, as if he had an invisible shield around him keeping them away. Aeden swore he saw more than one of the insects bounce off something as it flew toward Urun.

  Urun turned toward Aeden as if he sensed the gaze. He raised an eyebrow, but then seemed to realize why Aeden was staring at him. He smiled. “Flies are part of the natural world. I can repel some things, if I desire. It’s one of the benefits of being a priest to my goddess.” He took a deep breath just to show he could, and his smile turned into more of a smirk.

  “Show off,” Aeden said.

  “Here,” Tere Chizzit said from the edge of the battlefield.

  The others all went to where the tracker was. It was slightly upwind from the main bulk of the bodies, so the air was not quite as foul there.

  “I found the trail of the ones who killed all these creatures,” he said. “They did use magic, as Fahtin said, though I guess that’s obvious because they were able to destroy the black things. They went that way.” He pointed toward the south. “We need to go that way.” He pointed toward the southeast. “My guess is that we won’t see them. Besides, they seemed to be moving fast. We’d never catch them.”

  Aeden wondered about that. Who were Fahtin’s mysterious rescuers? Would they be allies or enemies? Just because they were fighting the same foe didn’t mean they would be friendly. Still, it was comforting to know that there were others in the world fighting the animaru who had the ability to actually damage them. Maybe they would meet some day, or maybe not. It would do no good to worry about it now.

  “Thinking about the ones who did this?” Aila said. She had slipped up next to him and looked up into his eyes. She seemed very close, too close, but he refused to step back. She would just tease him about that. As he looked at her, he was struck once again by how attractive she was. Not necessarily beautiful, though she was, but she just seemed to draw him, and his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Do you wonder what the woman looked like? Fahtin said she didn’t get a close look at her. Was she beautiful, do you think? Do you like red hair?” She pulled her fingers through her own as she said it, and he noticed how shiny and perfect it was. How did she do that? Fahtin’s hair was tangled and messy.

  “No.”

  “I think you do,” she said, giving him the smirk she wore so well. She walked off. No, she slunk off, the motion of her body mesmerizing.

  “Hmph,” Fahtin said from behind him. “That one is trouble, I think, for any man who falls prey to her charms. Like one of those fly trap plants.” She formed her hands into claws and brought them together like one of the plants she mentioned. She smiled as she did it and they both laughed.

  “I believe you are correct there, my beautiful friend,” he said. “I do believe that.”

  They traveled three more days until they reached the badlands which held Broken Reach, where the old fortress could be found. As they did, the land transformed from having a moderate number of trees to lifeless, rocky terrain. The only green was twisted scrub brush growing in patches.

  Aeden figured the large bushes were the closest things to trees the area offered. Game became scarce, as did identifiable roots to eat. Urun was invaluable here, searching out edible tubers and roots. He also pointed out some red berries that, although they were bitter, were safe to ingest.

  They were coming to the end of their quest to find the headquarters of the animaru. As yet, they hadn’t seen any of the creatures, but Tere Chizzit said there were few trails where they passed. Maybe they had roads or other paths they used. Aeden was satisfied with not seeing any of their foes.

  As the party moved inevitably toward their goal, Aeden drew within himself. He was not alone. Conversation dwindled to a trickle of words, the least amount necessary to interact and continue on their way. A short sentence that they would stop to rest or eat, a meaningful glance or grunt when they could get away with it. Everyone seemed to be saving up their energy for the final confrontation.

  It would come. Soon.

  In an eerie way, the land reflected their moods, or maybe it was the other way around. What were they doing there, in that increasingly desolate corner of the world? What would they find when they got to the old fortress? What would they do? It was unlike Aeden to have such doubts, and that fact made him even more uncomfortable.

  They had been together, for the most part, for nearly four months, always working toward the goal of going to Sitor-Kanda to find help in their quest. Now they didn’t even have that. Had he made a mistake in insisting they go on to where the animaru gathered? Would he be responsible for the deaths of his friends? That had always been a real possibility, but the thought had taken on a keener edge in the last day or so.

  “Don’t let it eat at you,” Tere Chizzit said to him. The tracker walked with the rest of them, not needing to scout ahead in a land with few obstructions for miles in any direction.

  Aeden was surprised the man had talked to him. It broke the thoughts he had been dwelling upon and scattered the pieces. “What?”

  “The thoughts, don’t let them eat you up.”

  “What thoughts are those?” Aeden said, trying to hide his surprise and confusion. He did look around to see that the others were ranged out at distances that would not allow them to easily hear what the two men were discussing.

  “Don’t play stupid. You are much smarter than that. I have been in your position, leading others into danger, wondering if you made the right decision, all of it. You will doubt yourself, think of turning back, fear what may happen to your friends because of your decision. Don’t.”

  Aeden stopped walking and turned to face the tracker. He looked into the man’s white eyes, though he knew Tere didn’t see him through those orbs. “Tere, who are you?”

  The blind man laughed. “I am Tere Chizzit, humble woodsman and tracker, at your service.” He made a little bow as they started walking again.

  “No,” Aeden said. “Really. The things you know, what you say, how you act, there is more to you than being a simple tracker. Who were you, if you insist on being coy?”

  “Aeden, my past is not something I like to talk about. Suffice it to say that I have been in your shoes and know what you are feeling. It’s normal. Don’t let it affect your focus. You made
a decision, right or wrong, and you can carry through with it or you can change your mind. You are in control here, not circumstances. Always remember that.”

  Aeden looked at Tere as they continued on. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “See that you do.” The older man lengthened his stride to move up ahead of Aeden, but as he did, he looked back over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I would have made the same decision. You are smart, a good leader, and have an instinct for making the right decisions. Don’t second-guess yourself. We all have faith in you. You should, too.”

  That last part burned itself into Aeden’s brain as he continued his trek. He would try.

  They entered an area unlike any Aeden had ever seen. It began with rolling hills, rocks jutting up at intervals, breaking up the line of the horizon and jarring the sight. The bushes and scrub that had dotted the landscape dwindled, and other plants began to spring up, just a few at first, but then more.

  He had never seen plants like them. They were prickly and had edges, without the curving lines of most of the vegetation he had seen. They were all straight lines and thorns. Even the succulent varieties wore armor of needle-like projections that looked wickedly sharp.

  As they continued, the hills began to look as if rocks had been ejected from the crust of the land up through the soil. The tops of the hills no longer looked rounded, but jagged, waiting, anticipating another boil of stone to pop and mar their surfaces even further. Aeden looked at them with interest and noticed all the others did, too. All except Tere Chizzit. He seemed to take it all in stride. He had probably seen it before.

  It soon grew too dark to see the land as it became more rugged. They could easily have traveled at night—there were no great obstructions for them to pass—but they opted to stop and rest.

  “We’re getting close,” Tere said. “I think it’s wise that we only travel during the day.”

  “Isn’t that thinking backward?” Aila asked him. “Shouldn’t we travel at night so we won’t be seen and hide during the day? In this massive plain, we will be visible for miles from one of the higher hills.”

  “Normally, that would be the way of it, yes,” Tere said. “But these creatures are of the darkness. They see better at night than they do in the daylight. They also seem to rest in the day and are more active at night. Does that seem right, Fahtin? You have spent more time in close proximity to them than the rest of us.”

  “Yes,” she said. She shivered visibly. “We did travel during the daytime, but their power seemed diminished, and they didn’t seem to want to do it. I got the sense from many of them that they wanted to find a dark hole somewhere and wait out the light. It…irritated them, it seemed.

  “As for resting, though, they don’t seem to need it. I have never seen one of them sleep. But they do slow down in the daylight.”

  “We will travel in the daylight, then,” Aeden said, dropping his pack and preparing to set up camp.

  An hour into their travels the next morning, the broken spire of the fortress at Broken Reach appeared on the horizon.

  55

  Khrazhti considered her general. Slizhk was the most cautious of the three she had brought with her from Aruzhelim. She had to tilt her head up to look him in the face, even though he normally slouched as if ready to spring…or strike. His cold, reptilian eyes met hers, and the slits in his smooth face widened as he took in a breath. As was his custom, he wore only a cloth covering his loins. The fine black scales that covered his body were protection enough from the elements.

  “The others are still out looking for the Gneisprumay?” she asked.

  “Yesss,” he hissed. “We have had no word from the others.”

  “I see.”

  “The assassins you sent, Koixus and Maenat, they are very skilled. They will find him and destroy him. The others are unnecessary.”

  “Perhaps,” Khrazhti said, “but this foe has been slippery, and I do not want to take chances. If Koixus and Maenat do not find them, the others will. He must be found and eliminated. How many troops are still in the fortress?”

  “Nine hundred thirty-six,” her general said without hesitation, “not including myself. I do not like having so few. What if one of these human armies attacks us?”

  “There is little chance of that,” Khrazhti said. “This is an isolated area where the humans do not go. They seem to be afraid of it. Besides, no army they could bring to field could defeat almost a thousand of the animaru. These creatures are weak.”

  “Of course, you are right,” Slizhk said. “I am accustomed to the warfare back on Aruzhelim. At times I forget how fragile, and fleeting, these humans are. Most of them, in any case.”

  “Yes. We are finished, General. Inform me immediately if any of the others return. I would have news of how our search is progressing.”

  “Yesss, High Priestess.” The general snapped his slender arm into a salute, hand going to his chest. He made the sinuous motion strangely elegant.

  Khrazhti looked out over the landscape, as she so often did, and wondered when she could go back home. She had an important mission to accomplish for her god, but once that was finished, she wanted to return to Aruzhelim. This land of light and exotic creatures was not to her taste.

  Scanning the jagged hills, the rocks, and the strange plants of this place, she wondered where the Gneisprumay was. Had her assassins killed him already? Had he evaded them and been caught by the forces commanded by her other generals, Treclus and Daosa? Once he was eliminated, her plans could go forward, but until then, she would have to bide her time. So strange, this world. She could hardly wait for it to be changed to be like Aruzhelim. All it would take was the death of the One.

  The tower resting on a high hill, poking into the sky in defiance of gravity, grew larger as the party continued on. There were some smaller buildings on surrounding hills, and some sort of fortification and complex of buildings at the foot of the spire, but they lacked detail at this distance and seemed insignificant when compared to the high pinnacle.

  If anything, the terrain was even rockier, seeming devoid of soil at all. Aeden wondered if it had always been like this, or if it had once had trees and fields. He knew the land changed through the centuries, but it was hard to imagine the landscape he saw as anything other than solid stone, inhospitable to life. A fitting place for animaru, who had no life in them.

  “That’s Broken Reach, then?” Aeden asked Tere.

  “Yes. It’s ancient, nearly a thousand years old. It has been abandoned for two hundred years. Some have tried to settle there, take advantage of buildings that still stand, but it never lasts long. Even bandits don’t find it useful. Why have a headquarters several days away from the closest road where you can ply your banditry? There is not enough food or water, and there are much easier places to set up camp. If it wasn’t for us knowing how to extract water from the plants, we might not have even made it here alive.”

  “It sounds like the perfect place for them,” Fahtin said.

  “Aye,” Aeden agreed.

  “If we push the pace,” Tere said, “we can be at the spire by tomorrow. We can find a place to hide and spend the night, and then try to infiltrate it the next morning, when it’s light out.”

  Aeden nodded and pushed onward. One more day. What would they find then? He left the question unanswered, not wanting to hazard a guess.

  As Tere had said, they reached the area within the hills with the outlying buildings by late afternoon. Watch towers with small barracks that could hold a few dozen troops grew up from the tops of the smaller hills in a rough circle around the main fortress. There were what looked like mirrors on the top of each of the towers, easily visible from the ground level.

  Tere pointed at one of the towers, on the closest hill. “When the fortress was occupied, these would hold watchmen. They would signal to the other towers and to the main fortress if anyone approached. In the daylight, they would reflect the sun with the mirrors. At night, they would refl
ect the fires they kept burning just underneath the reflectors.”

  Raki and Aila went up one of the hills to investigate the buildings while the rest of them waited in the shadow of the hill. The two could virtually disappear when they wanted to, Raki with his natural ability and Aila from long practice. They returned shaking their heads.

  “Nothing up there,” Aila said. “The structures are surprisingly sound, though. If some of these others are also empty, they would make a good place for us to spend the night.”

  They continued into the afternoon, checking each of the watchtowers in their path, finding all of them empty. When they reached the closest hill to the fortress and found it empty also, the entire party climbed the hill—on the side opposite the spire in case someone watched—and settled into one of the buildings to pass the night.

  Aeden looked down onto the fortress from a window in one of the watchtowers. The spire looked even more impressive at this distance, rising two hundred feet in the air. Surrounding it were buildings, a complex of them, and around those were a wall that must have been formidable when it was whole. Now, it had great rents in it, large enough to drive a wagon through. Still, the fortress as a whole was impressive, more impressive than many of the other fortifications Aeden had seen on his travels with the Gypta.

  Darkness fell and the vast landscape gradually sank into its inky embrace. The moon was only a sliver, and Aeden only saw faintly by its light and that of the stars. He hadn’t really expected the animaru to light lamps, but the almost complete darkness shocked him as he looked toward where he knew the main fortress stood.

  Within an hour of nightfall, harsh noises started to emanate from behind the shattered walls of the fortress. Aeden listened carefully from his window in the watchtower and realized they were voices. One in every twenty or more words seemed to be similar to ones he knew, but no more than that.