“I don’t think that will be possible.” Mordal’s quiet voice seemed to fill up the night.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid I have a confession to make,” Mordal continued. “I did not come here to discuss your proposal.”
“Then what–?”
His smile vanished. “I want you to return with me to the keep, to claim your rightful place as my successor.”
Keris looked confused. “Have you not heard what I have been saying? All Kelanni is under threat. Besides, you must know that after what happened at Gort, there is no way I could return even if I wanted to.”
“Do not worry. I have taken care of everything.”
“Taken care…how?”
“No-one will know about the incident at the compound.” Mordal’s tone assumed an edge of pride. “Remember Ferenek? You spoke to him of your suspicions before you knocked him unconscious in his office. When he came to, he started asking awkward questions. A short while later he…met with an unfortunate accident.”
“But why?”
“He knew of your involvement,” Mordal stated simply. “Then there were the nomads you travelled with over the plains. I could not be sure exactly what you had told them, so I felt it safest to make sure they could not talk.”
Keris felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. All those people – dead. The shock of it was too much to bear. He was killing indiscriminately–for her.
“Nikome is gone,” Mordal continued. “The soldiers know nothing. The only other person who is aware of your involvement is Saccath. Once he is silenced, we can return to Chalimar together and you can assume your rightful place. As far as anyone is concerned, you have been engaged on an extended mission under my orders. No-one will be any the wiser. Do you see? I have covered for you. All you need to do is decide to come with me now, and all will be well.”
Keris was still reeling from the enormity of the revelations. No…it can’t be…it has to stop. I…I cannot allow this to continue.
“I only did all of this for you, Keris. For you. You have to come with me now.” Mordal advanced toward her and grabbed her by the arm. She pulled away in horror. His voice assumed a hard edge. “You will come with me now, or you will not leave this place.” In one swift movement, his staff was balanced in his thick fingers, brooking no argument. She backed away. He began to circle her, a smile playing on his lips once more. “Unfortunately, I cannot allow my actions to become known. What will it be, Keris? Shall we leave and embrace our future together. Or shall we ‘dance’ one last time?”
Madness? Obsession? Keris knew little of such things. It was impossible to believe that this was the same man who had taken her in and nurtured her, who had impressed on her the conviction that the Kelanni needed to be protected and cared for. Yet somehow he had turned into a monster.
His hands slipped to one end of his staff and he swung it towards her in a wide arc. She jumped back instinctively, the diamond blade passing inches from her midriff. “I’m gratified to see that your reflexes are as keen as ever, Keris.” He spun around and then leapt into the air a short distance, aiming the staff at her head. She side-stepped neatly, and the blade flashed past her harmlessly. “Good, very good,” he approved. “Now, are you going to obey my wishes or are you going to defend yourself?”
He was advancing on her again. Keris felt as if she were in a waking dream. One hand moved involuntarily to her own staff, gripping the smooth darkwood. It felt solid, reassuring. Her other hand moved to her neck control and she adjusted the bronze layer of her cloak, seeking the pressure of natural lodestone. As she registered the strengths and directions of the familiar push of the ore, it was bizarrely the words of Mordal himself that came back to her, spoken in a different place and at a different time.
“Battling another Keltar is unlike any other battle you will ever fight. When encountering anyone else, the lodestone will furnish you with a decisive advantage in height and momentum. However, when you are facing another Keltar, those advantages are cancelled out. Instead, the field of battle and the configuration of lodestone deposits become all-important. A clash between Keltar is primarily a battle of tactics. Even superior strength and agility can be overcome by superior positioning and spatial orientation. You must immediately determine the location and strength of any deposits and then ‘own’ them, denying your opponent any advantage.”
Keris tested the push on her lodestone layer from different directions, mapping out the floor of the corrie in her head. One directly behind her–weak. Two behind Mordal, one to the left–medium strength, and one he was almost standing on–the strongest of the three. His was the clear advantage. No doubt he had planned for this eventuality when arranging to meet her. The spot he had selected, even the place he had chosen to stand, were far from random. Keris cursed her own lack of foresight. She would have to go on the defensive and stall for time, hoping to reposition herself so as to challenge his dominant stance.
Start with what you have. She backed off rapidly and activated her cloak, leaping and pushing off against the deposit behind her. It was more to see what Mordal would do than anything else. The next move was clearly his. The aged Keltar flared his own cloak and pushed off the big deposit, soaring over her. She descended, holding out her staff with both hands defensively. He dived, his staff meeting hers with a loud crack, then let loose with a flurry of blows as they both descended. He drove her down, finishing off with a powerful slicing move as her boots hit stone, forcing her to her knees. He locked staffs with her, eyes wild with elation.
Keris gritted her teeth and strained for a moment before shoving him back. Mordal swung his blade and slashed her arm as she rolled away. Keris felt the flash of pain. She embraced it, allowing it to keen her senses. Getting her feet under her, she rose to face Mordal once again. He was still positioned between her and the main deposits of lodestone in the ground. In spite of his age, his reactions seemed unimpaired. If I don’t come up with something soon, I’m finished.
Grenades. She was loath to use her limited supply, but they would be of little use to her if she were dead. She reached into her pouch, fingers closing on a round metallic shape. Pulling it out, she quickly twisted one hemisphere. A low whine emanated from the lodestone grenade, rising rapidly in volume and pitch. She tossed it in Mordal’s direction. It bounced once on the stone and exploded in a burst of light and flame. Mordal, however, had already leapt beyond the blast. As he settled back to the ground, cloak fully extended behind him, he was laughing and shaking his head. “Keris, Keris. Why not just accept the inevitable? Leave those other fools and come back with me, now.”
Keris was not listening. She had used the interlude to scan the field once more for lodestone and she detected something she had missed before, something that gave her a faint glimmer of hope. If Mordal had missed it too… She raced to her left, using the small and medium deposits to give her a combined lift, so that she rose up the steep wall of the semicircular basin.
Mordal had an amused expression as he extended his cloak once more and thrust upwards, using the momentum of the strong deposit. She saw him hurtling towards her, staff at the ready, in anticipation of the imminent clash. Hers was a risky manoeuvre. It required precise timing and there were too many ways it could go wrong, but she was desperate. As she flew up the side of the cwm, she felt the pressure from her objective, a lodestone deposit embedded halfway up the rock wall. As she drew level, she slammed open her bronze layer, arresting her upward rise, then pivoted feet-first toward the rock wall, withdrawing the bronze and exposing the lodestone layer. She shot forward on a horizontal trajectory away from the wall. Mordal could not react in time, and she careened into him, impacting his lower abdomen. Pain lanced through her shoulder as they were both sent into an uncontrolled spin. The ground whirled crazily as Keris fought to right herself by using her cloak to brake her descent. She was only partially successful, landing in a heap on the stone floor.
The various cuts and brui
ses on her body screamed for attention but she dismissed them, casting her eyes about for Mordal. There was no sign. Then she saw it–a dark shape near the rear of the dimly lit basin. It was not moving. Keris got to her feet with a grimace, holding the cut on her right arm with her left hand in order to staunch the flow of blood. She made her way over to the latent form and dropped to one knee, extending her bloodstained fingers to touch his shoulder. Mordal’s eyes were open, expressionless–his neck broken. She got to her feet, tears forming rivulets in the grime clinging to her olive cheeks. Why…why did you make me do it? She ripped the Speaker Ring from her finger and hurled it at the body, excising her final connection to her mentor. The Ring bounced off and plinked on the rough stone before coming to a dead stop.
Keris, Keltar that was, turned on her heel and strode away. She did not look back.
~
Keris stopped at the bank of the stream and dropped to her knees. Without warning, she felt overcome by a wave of nausea. She began retching uncontrollably. The swirling waters enveloped the contents of her stomach and mercifully swept them away. When it was over, she washed her face, and bathed her wound, ripping off a part of her tunic to form a makeshift bandage. She rose up again, her legs feeling unnaturally weak, and made her way back to camp.
Lyall and Shann were waiting for her standing side by side in the rosy half light. Keris noted that they were both clad in their flying cloaks. “You left your watch,” Lyall declared. It was almost an accusation, but not quite.
Keris felt wracked by pain and exhaustion, but her expression betrayed nothing of her true state. “I…thought I heard a noise. I went to investigate.”
“And what did you find?” Lyall enquired.
“Nothing,” Keris replied, her heart heavy and dead as stone. “Nothing at all.” She turned and headed for her blanket to catch whatever fitful moments of sleep she could before morning came.
~
Saccath stood silently over the body of Mordal, allowing a cold rage to consume him. His hand opened, revealing the Ring that had been left next to the body, as distinctive as a calling card. Keris.
Somehow the woman had convinced him to leave their camp at night without an escort and had then lured him into a trap. His neck was broken with no other sign of injuries. Efficient. Mordal had clearly underestimated the former Keltar. Saccath would not be making the same mistake.
The Captain of the guard, dressed in a crimson surcoat, marched over, stopping at a respectful distance. “Orders?”
Saccath allowed the rage to settle in his belly, giving him a new sense of purpose. “We will bury His Excellency. Then you and your men will return to the keep and report all that has happened.
“But…what of you?” the Captain asked.
“You will report that I am pursuing the rebel, Keris, and her group. I will exact penance for her actions.”
The Captain seemed as if he were about to object, then looked down at the figure lying on the ground and appeared to check himself. “Very well, My Lord.” He bowed once and turned away towards the knot of soldiers gathered around the black banner. The three suns and the flame of the Prophet fluttered defiantly in the breeze.
Saccath regarded the body of Mordal once more. I am coming for you, Keris. You cannot escape. I will pursue you to the very ends of the world.
<><><><><>
Chapter 20
Lyall, Keris, Shann, Alondo and Boxx looked down from the Gilah Hills at the country spread before them. It was a rural landscape, dotted with what appeared to be small farms. Shann could make out fields of crops, ripening in the summer heat, and pastures containing what looked like domesticated raleketh. To the north and east, there was a river flowing from the hills; a bright ribbon which twisted back and forth before flowing into a shimmering lake. It was a welcome sight after so many days trekking through the barrenness of the Gilah.
The path through the hills had suddenly opened up onto a bluff overlooking the panorama beyond. Keris was standing near the edge, one leg resting on a small boulder. She was closely examining a small instrument in her left palm. It contained a type of lodestone, one that always pointed south, that travellers used to help find their way. Keris, of course, had never permitted her to have a close look, so she could only guess at its operation. Shann had a wild fantasy where she saw herself creeping up behind the Keltar. One good shove would send her tumbling over the edge. Problem solved. Would any of her travelling companions seriously object?
Suddenly the tall woman pointed towards the south-east. “Over there.”
Alondo peered along the line indicated by her finger. “I don’t see anything.”
“There,” Keris insisted. Shann looked out over the distant lowlands and saw a faint irregular patch of dwellings. “The village is marked on the map as Pinnar in a stretch of land known as the Distrada. Just beyond is the north-south road and a day’s journey east of that lies Kharthrun.”
“Pretty.” Boxx was standing on its hind legs. Lyall and Shann looked at the Chandara, but as usual, no-one was quite sure what it meant.
Alondo was still squinting at the horizon, as Lyall placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is the situation with our stores?” he asked the musician.
Alondo pressed his lips together. “Too low. The food we stockpiled on the Eastern Plains is gone and it’s been slim pickings in these hills. We need re-supply.”
“Then Pinnar is our next destination. Keris, what can you tell us about these people?”
Keris gave a blank look. “Nothing, really. The settlements are on the ‘tribute circuit,’ but I was never sent down this way.”
Lyall sounded cheerful. “Well, let’s see if we can’t make some new friends. Time to move out.” Shann tore her eyes away from the seductive view and followed him to where the sleek graylesh stood patiently. She mounted her animal, patting its neck, and waited for Alondo and Boxx to board the wagon. Keris took up what had become her customary position during the journey along the narrow hillside trails: alone at the van. It was a prudent defensive measure for someone to watch their rear, but no-one had asked Keris to assume the responsibility. The manner in which the older woman had fallen naturally into the role suggested much about her place within their group. She travelled with them but she was apart from them by her own choice–to preserve her secrets, no doubt, and to make it easier for her to betray them all when the moment came. Shann watched her as she sat high in the saddle, aristocratic and aloof. I know what you are about.
Since that fateful night by the stream when she and Lyall had lost the woman’s trail, there had been two significant events. The first became evident later the following day, when Lyall returned from his scouting mission and gathered the others before announcing, “They’re gone.”
“How do you mean?” Alondo asked.
“The Prophet’s men no longer pursue us.”
Shann’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. I even found the remains of their last encampment. I think we should continue to backtrack in order to check, but they seem to have withdrawn.”
Alondo looked worried. “But… why would they do that?” He looked at Keris and the others followed suit.
Keris, who had been silent up to now, seemed to wake from a stupor. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“I don’t know,” Lyall interceded. “Maybe we have travelled far enough from the keep that they no longer view us as a threat.” That did not seem very likely to Shann. “In any event, I choose to interpret this as good news.” Despite Lyall’s optimism, the air was one of sombre reflection rather than celebration. Keris turned her back on the others and walked away without a word.
The second development occurred later that evening, as they sat consuming a portion of their dwindling rations. Alondo was doing his best to keep things light with his generous smile and easy manner. As Keris chewed on a piece of dried raleketh meat, Shann glanced idly at the older woman’s right hand. Her Speaker Ring–it was missing.
Later that night she called Lyall to one side and shared her observations. Lyall absorbed her comments thoughtfully. “Maybe our Keltar has finally renounced her loyalty to her former friends.”
Shann registered shock. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m not sure,” Lyall admitted. “It could equally be a sign that she knows somehow that we are on to her. But the Prophet’s men do seem to have turned back from following us. It is tempting to think that there may be a connection. Let’s continue to be watchful, all right?”
During the intervening days there had been no further sign of pursuit and Keris’ Ring did not reappear on her hand. Shann, however, was not about to be deceived. Somehow, the woman had altered the rules and was playing a different game now. As the party got underway and began descending through the Gilah Hills towards the pasture land below, Shann imagined she could feel the Keltar’s eyes boring into her back. Biding her time. Awaiting her chance to strike.
~
Alondo urged the graylesh forward as the covered wagon pitched and rolled over the rough track between the fields of the Distrada. Lyall pulled up his mount and called over his shoulder, “How’s it going back there?”
Alondo’s face showed signs of strain. “Well, it would help if you could get down off that beast and fill in a few of these potholes for me.”
Lyall smiled. “No problem. And while we are at it, Shann and I can jump on those bumps and flatten them out for you, if you’d like.”
Shann chuckled. “You’d have to make it worth my while. A nice juicy raleketh steak and a cup of narrian wine, I think.”
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 21