After a moment, Boxx dropped to all sixes, and trotted off after her.
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Chapter 8
Light was fading from the sky; casting sprays of orange and ruby red to merge with Ail-Mazzoth’s sullen crimson glow. The smouldering hues infused the trees with a lurid radiance, making it seem as if the forest were ablaze. The Chandara did not seem to use names, but she had learned that Kelanni of ancient times had called it Illaryon. The name was vaguely familiar; it lay to the west of Chalimar and its dependent towns.
They were camped at the edge of the trees. Keris was seated on the ground, with her legs tucked under her. She was still wearing her cloak. Boxx was carrying a quantity of fruits in its pack, which Keris had supplemented from what she could find. She had not felt so well fed and rested for a long time. But she had found that there was a price to be paid.
She was used to being alone, to working alone. She had learned to rely on herself ever since her parents had left her at the Dagmar manse. As a worker on the estate, and later at the Keep and during her training as Keltar, she had concluded time and again, that the only person you could truly depend on was yourself. Oh, there were always people who would show an interest in you; who would listen sympathetically; who would even declare their wish to become your friend. But ultimately, it always came down to the fact that they wanted something from you. Everyone has their own agenda.
That is not to say that she was a loner. There were those at the keep that she regarded as friends. But she kept them at a certain arm’s length. When it came to the important things of life, and especially when it came to her work as Keltar, Keris preferred to work alone. That way she could analyse, plan and find solutions without distractions. Distractions like Boxx.
It was like travelling with a small child. She had learned that Boxx was old. It did not even seem to know its age. “I Am More Than One Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Turns,” it had stated proudly. Keris put it together in her head. That would be more than ten million turns. The woman from the past, Annata, had mentioned that the Chandara were long lived, but even Keris knew that was ridiculous. Nothing could possibly live that long.
“You can’t be ten million turns,” she replied dismissively. “You must have got the number wrong.”
“The Number Is Correct, Keris,” Boxx insisted.
It occurred to her that maybe the creature was senile. Wonderful. I now have a senile companion. However old it was, it was evident that it had never been beyond its tree home.
“How Old Are You?...Where Do You Live?...What Is A Keep?...Why Do You Carry That Branch?”
Keris felt as if she were on a school field trip. She tried to answer as best she could, but she felt her patience was being tested to the limit.
“What Is A Female?” The beast seemed puzzled when she didn’t answer.
However, it was not its incessant curiosity that was the problem, but rather its speed. It was capable of trotting along at a fair pace; it was just that she could travel much faster using the cloak. She was not sure exactly how much time she had lost while recuperating at the Great Tree, but she knew that if she were to make it to Gort in time to intervene, then time was of the essence.
Thus Keris was faced with two difficult decisions. The first was easy to make, but difficult to execute. The second would be difficult to make, but easy to execute.
She began with the first. Raising the back of her hand to her mouth, she spoke into her Ring. “Keris.”
There was a long pause. Finally, the Ring responded with an emerald glow. “Is it you, Keris? You haven’t reported for two days. What happened?”
Well, that answered one question. She had lost two days. Time enough to overtake the other three and make it to Gort first, if she didn’t delay. First though, she needed to conceal her true intentions.
Keris was not comfortable with deception. For one thing, lying had always been contrary to the precepts of the Three. It was quite different to posing as a diamond merchant at the Silver Flagon. That had been no more than play acting. It had even been amusing in its own way. Now she was going to have to play false to Mordal. Whatever else he was, he was also her mentor; the man who had guided and supported her; who had made her the person she was today. In a very real sense, she owed everything to him. And now I am about to betray him.
“My apologies, Mordal, I was…attacked by a perridon.”
“By the Three, are you all right?”
“I…was injured, but I am fine now.”
There was another pause. “I think you should return to the Keep, Keris. The fortress has been alerted to expect an attempt to free the tributes at the compound and the garrison there has been reinforced. There is no need for you to put yourself at further risk. Are you able to make the journey back here unaided?”
She was prepared for this. “Mordal, there is no need to be concerned. I suffered a mishap, but I assure you I am quite well. I ask that I be allowed to complete my assignment.”
It was a critical juncture. If he insisted that she return, then she would be faced with a tough choice: obey the command to return and allow the party of three to fall into the trap Mordal had set, or disobey and show her hand, thereby becoming a fugitive herself. However, she knew that Mordal had come to trust her instincts. She hoped it would be enough to buy her the time she needed.
An eternity passed, before she saw the Ring’s green radiance.
“I should know by now not to underestimate your determination, shouldn’t I? Very well, but I want you to keep in regular contact. I will Ring the garrison commander at Gort and tell him to give you any assistance you require. I want the impostor apprehended and you back at the keep as soon as possible. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“And Keris?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She glanced over at Boxx. It sat opposite, watching her with bead like eyes and an odd quirk at the side of its mouth, but for once it didn’t say anything.
It was time to carry out her second decision. Keris made preparations to bed down for the night, wrapping her cloak around her. Boxx followed suit, rolling up into a ball, so that only its carapace was visible.
She waited a long time. Whooping and chirruping sounds came filtering out of the flaming forest at odd intervals, as nocturnal creatures hunted and fled and ate or were eaten. The round shell that was Boxx did not move. She had no way of knowing whether it was asleep. In truth, she did not even know whether Chandara needed sleep or not.
She rose without a sound, and moved stealthily away from the tree line. Boxx did not stir. A line of hills rose to the east and south, silhouetted against the dark crimson sky. Beyond was the road south to Gort. She touched her cloak control, seeking the familiar push of lodestone. There, to the left and behind.
Keris leaped and flared her cloak and was gone.
~
Doubt. It was not a feeling to which Keris was accustomed. Her decisions were born from a sea of careful planning. Effects were carefully considered; consequences assessed; contingencies met. Thus when action resulted it flowed naturally, unfettered by hesitation.
Thus it was that she knew her decision to desert the Chandara was unquestionably the right one. Objective–deliver the three fugitives from the trap set for them at Gort. To be certain of achieving that objective she would have to arrive before they did. That meant travelling as fast as was possible. The Chandara would only slow her down. It was also a forest dweller, so she had no idea whether it would be able to survive in the desert. She was probably doing it a favour by leaving it behind.
Most likely the beast would return to the Great Tree once it realised it was alone. That was the only home it had ever known. There was a possibility that it might try to follow her, she supposed, but she planned to be far away by morning–farther than it would possibly be able to track. Eventually it would give up and go home.
The woman from
the past had said something about it being a “key.” Keris did not know what that meant exactly, but if it proved to be important she could return here. No, there could be no question, no doubt; this decision was the correct one. Why then did it feel so wrong?
Perhaps you still haven’t recovered from that bump on the head? Keris smiled inwardly, but somehow it didn’t make her feel any better. She was sailing up and over a patch of loose scree. She felt herself passing over a strong deposit to her right. Blipping her bronze layer to brake slightly, she twisted in the air to give maximum push to her left. She soared up the hillside and landed in a crouched position. Looking up, she saw she was near the top of the rise. In a moment, she would reach the crest and start down the other side. From there it would be a simple matter to meet up with the road heading south.
A movement caught her eye. A dark shape passed over Ail-Mazzoth’s angry face, like a presage of danger. Perridon. Whether it was the same one that had taken her earlier or another, she couldn’t be sure. She felt the reassuring haft of her diamond bladed staff as her eyes tracked the great bird. She watched as it gained height, heading west. Towards the forest of Illaryon. Towards Boxx.
Keris had a disturbing vision. The monster swept down from the sky, grasping the Chandara in its huge talons, and carrying it off, while the little creature screamed. It was ridiculous. The chances of such a thing happening would have to be pretty remote. In any case, she had no idea whether Chandara could scream, or even if they felt pain for that matter. Nevertheless, she owed her life to this odd little being and its kin. And she had abandoned it.
Cursing her own weakness, she turned and started back towards the forest.
A while later, she approached the camp. Boxx was standing upright, as if it were patiently waiting for her. She moved inside the line of trees, where they would be relatively safe from avian attack. The Chandara watched her for a moment, then followed without a word. She lay down as before, and watched as Boxx curled up into a ball, next to the bole of a tree. To Keris it seemed as if there was a smile playing about its lips.
~
“Remember, keep your staff up. And don’t try shoving against a heavier opponent–which in your case will be almost all of the time.”
Shann chose to ignore the none too subtle jibe against her diminutive size. The jokes in that area were beginning to wear a bit thin, in any case. Instead, she decided to go on the offensive. “Well, it seems to me that I am taking lessons from a person who lost the only battle I ever saw him fight.”
Alondo shot a sideways glance at Lyall. “She’s got you there.”
Lyall adopted an air of injured pride. “I did not lose…technically it was a draw. Anyway, how was I to know that the Keltar was carrying lodestone grenades? That’s hardly fighting fair.”
“Oh, so you expect every servant of the Prophet you meet to ‘fight fair’, do you?” Shann retorted.
“She’s got you again,” Alondo grinned.
“Excuse me, whose side are you on?” Lyall demanded.
“Why, yours, of course. Can’t you tell?”
Lyall was beginning to suspect that he was the victim of a conspiracy. He decided to change the subject. “Anyway, we will be at the fortress in two more days.”
Shann became pensive as she was reminded of their destination. She began to wonder what she would face. Lyall had been somewhat evasive about the plan. However, she had no doubt that it would be dangerous, and she was determined to be as prepared as she could be.
Despite her initial revulsion at handling the trappings of a Keltar, she found that she was actually enjoying her training. She had to admit that Lyall was actually a good teacher: patient, enthusiastic and with a good sense of humour. He challenged her, without making her feel overwhelmed. As a result, her abilities were developing rapidly. She had even had Lyall flat on his back on a couple of occasions, although she was not completely sure whether he had allowed her to gain the advantage deliberately as a way of giving encouragement.
Using the flying cloak was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was exhilarating to soar like a mylar, feeling the air rush past her face and looking down at the tiny figure of Lyall watching her from below. There was a sensation of power.
Lyall brought her back down to earth by reminding her of the danger of overconfidence. “Most Keltar suffer from it. It makes them contemptuous of others, but it also makes them think of themselves as invincible. Don’t make the same mistake, Shann.”
The desert, too, was a place where overconfidence could be fatal. It was tempting to strip off in response to the heat of the day, but Alondo encouraged her to stay as wrapped up as possible during the day, to avoid the effects of sunburn.
When she took a sip of water, Alondo stopped her. “No, Shann. When you take a drink, you have to take a full draught, to sustain your body’s vital organs. You know people have been found dead in the desert with half full water skins, because they allowed themselves to become too dehydrated.” She nodded, and took a full drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He smiled at her, encouragingly.
The road south was straight as an arrow and virtually devoid of traffic. They travelled by night, making camp a short while after Ail-Gan blazed forth in the western sky. Protected by awnings from the worst effects of the heat, they snatched what sleep they could. Lyall insisted that one person be on watch at all times. “There are dangers in this place; I pray we do not meet up with them.” He ignored her questioning look, declining to elaborate.
Shann was beginning to think he was being overcautious. They were only two days away from the fortress, and had not incurred any mishaps, so far. They had even found that the second outpost along the road had a well outside that was completely unguarded, allowing them to refill their water skins by night, unchallenged. She doubted that the garrison at Gort would manifest such lax security.
Ail-Gan would be appearing soon, heralding the heat of day and another rest from their arduous trek. She decided to ask about the fortress.
“Lyall, I thought a fortress was built to guard something, but there is nothing in this place. Why would someone build a fortress out in the middle of a desert?”
“I am not sure. Some say it was not always a fortress, but was originally something else. Others say that in ancient times, the Southern Desert was a land of lakes and lush forests.”
Shann cast her eye about the desolate sands. Shifting winds sculpted crescent-shaped dunes like the waves of a great ocean, frozen in time. But there was no ocean here. Dry and featureless, it was the very repudiation of life. Some people must have a powerful imagination.
An angry cloud was roiling in from the west. She watched it curiously for a moment. It was growing and advancing rapidly in their direction. Sandstorm? She reached up and touched Lyall on the shoulder. As he looked at her, she pointed at the incoming phenomenon. Lyall halted the caravan and squinted at where she was pointing. Alondo joined them.
The cloud crested the nearest dune and began barrelling down the slip face towards them. There were shapes in the cloud.
“Sand scarags!” Lyall yelled.
Claws clacked and mandibles snapped as the beasts surged forward, sending the morgren into a panic. Waist high, red brown and multi-legged, they moved across the sand at astonishing speed, forward chelipeds raised, eyes waving at the end of stalks.
“Shann.” Lyall sprang forward, flaring his cloak, and lurched into the air in the direction of the oncoming wave. Shann took the hint and followed suit. They landed in front of the creatures and began whirling their respective staffs. “Watch out for their tails,” Lyall warned. Shann saw that each of their tails ended in a bulbous appendage. A stinger.
Diamond blades flashed as they sliced through carapace and thorax alike. Sand scarags slumped to the ground while others scuttled around or over the backs of their fallen companions. Shann thrust her staff downwards, slicing the shell of one, and then pulling the staff free. As she did so, another one grasped her leg
with its claw. She was pulled off balance and fell heavily to the ground. Looking up, she saw the sand scarag’s stinger raised, ready to strike.
There was a blur of motion. A diamond blade severed the claw from its cheliped, and she was free. Lyall’s hand grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her to her feet. The creatures were coming at them from the sides now. They were in danger of being surrounded.
“Fall back,” Lyall called, and the two of them began retreating towards the caravan. The swell, which had been halted momentarily, began moving forward again. Dozens. Hundreds.
How are we going to get out of this alive? They were almost backed up to where Alondo was desperately trying to bring the morgren under control. The beasts of burden broke free and bolted. Alondo swore.
“Alondo, forget the morgren,” Lyall shouted behind him.
Shann was thinking rapidly. If it were just her and Lyall, then they could leap away; outpace the sand scarags. But Alondo did not have a cloak. He was stuck firmly on the ground, and if they made their escape, he would be overwhelmed in moments. She cursed his obduracy.
Lyall called out, “Shann, get to the side.”
What? She was standing squarely in front of Alondo, in an effort to protect him. The creatures were already snapping their claws at the end of her staff which she held outstretched like a pike. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Lyall had moved around to Alondo’s flank.
“Shann, get to the side, now.”
Bewildered, she quickly backed around to Alondo’s other flank. Glancing at him, she saw that he had swung his instrument forward and had its tubular neck pointed toward the advancing line. He adjusted a control and hammered the strings. Shann felt a backwash of air, like a pressure wave, as a vortex of air and sound struck the oncoming swarm and knocked the creatures backwards.
He adjusted another control and attacked the strings again, this time with a rhythmic motion. A new vortex formed and began to resonate with the sand scarags’ body parts. The line broke, and the animals scuttled to either side to escape the blast.
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 9