by Megan Derr
"From where do you hail, milady?" Binhadi asked, removing his arm from her shoulders and accepting the tea Cemal held out to him.
"Hemal's Pass," Malea said.
Cemal pursed his lips in thought. "That is still three weeks riding from here. You've been traveling a long time, just for mercenaries. Who is this Dree?"
"He is from the Outer Isles, and his father was a merchant who decided to settle in Hemal's Pass many years ago. I was only a girl when they came, and Dree was seven years my senior." Her mouth twisted with a bitterness that Cemal knew well, though he had never had a lover to leave that mark upon him. All his sexual encounters had been fleeting things, and he'd been too busy with revenge to think about romance. "He was a sweet boy, charming, and when I came of age, I fell for him like young people always do."
Binhadi's eyes shimmered like moonlight behind thin clouds, the shadows around him stirring restlessly. "You have hired men to kill your husband."
Malea smiled coldly. "Yes, I have. He married me because my father was brother to the town chief, who has no children to be seduced. I realized too late what my husband is, and the way he slowly overtook my town to make it the vile pit it has become. I made him believe I had been summoned to the Heart to deal with an outbreak of illness and fled before he could discover the ruse."
"I am surprised you did not kill him yourself," Cemal said.
"He has too many supporters, too many burrs stuck in too many places," Malea replied. "Everyone owes him something, or is too scared of him. If I'd killed him, it would have been my final deed before someone killed me, and one of his underlings would have simply stepped into his place."
Cemal nodded. "I wish you luck on your mission, then."
"And you on yours," Malea said. "I am happy I could help those who do noble work in the name of the king."
Binhadi laughed, a cynical sound, but only said, "Thank you, milady."
"I suggest we bed down," Malea said, finishing her own tea and setting the cup close to the fire. "You both need sleep, as do the rest of us. If we do not see you in the morning to part ways properly, Great Dragon guard you in your quest to seek vengeance for the broken Heart."
Cemal nodded and rose, reaching out to take her hands as she stood up. He held them firmly, and kissed her cheeks. "Blessing of the Dragon to you and yours, milady."
Her mouth twisted in a dry smile. "I do not know many priests who would bless my violent path, priest, but I thank you."
"The Great Dragon does not condone needless violence," Cemal replied, squeezing her hands before slowly letting them go. "But he has never hesitated to employ violence where it was needed. May you sleep without dreaming, milady." He turned away and strode to where Sule and Mahzan still slept. Removing his sword belt and cumbersome pouches, he wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and bedded down next to Mahzan.
A few minutes later, Binhadi settled down alongside Sule. Normally, it would be smarter to spread out, but Cemal felt better knowing they were all close. He was still wondering why that was when he drifted off to sleep.
He woke to the sound of a quickly muffled cry, and started to sit up when a voice shot through his mind. Don't move. Spikers.
Cemal froze.
I kept the beasts at bay while we were traveling, but the fight taxed me, and I accidentally stopped. The mercenaries have something that attracted them once we grew quiet. I think half of them are dead.
The clarity of Mahzan's mind in his own was startling—he was clearly taking well to his increased power and abilities. How did one respond, though? Mind reading was so esoteric that his lessons had only mentioned it did exist.
Responding isn't hard, Mahzan said, all his annoyance coming through clearly with the words. I can hear most of your thoughts, anyway. Just… think it like you would say it, as though rehearsing the words in your mind.
Cemal's mouth twisted in amusement, even as he shuddered at the sound of flesh and bone being messily consumed. Why aren't we dead? Where is Malea?
See? That was not so hard. It's called a warding; I sort of… convince their thoughts to slide away from us. Just don't move. Malea? Oh, the healer woman. She woke and fled up a tree. I can't reach her right now. The warding is taking all my concentration.
We cannot just lie here until the spikers eat everyone, Cemal replied. Are the others awake?
I am now, came Binhadi's voice, cool and sharp even in thought. Wake Sule.
Sule's awake, came Sule's snappish voice. This speaking without speaking is unnerving. How many spikers?
Cemal could somehow feel Mahzan flexing his power, the way it flowed out and then back in, like the tide.
Four, Mahzan said at last.
Binhadi's thoughts rose up then, and Cemal could see flickers and flashes of what he was thinking, like glimpses of darting fish in a quick-moving stream. Sule, the fire. Cemal, shape something to fight them after my shadows bind them. Then you two will have to kill at least one of them. That should be enough to drive them off.
Sule grunted softly, and his thoughts were as rough as his manner, like sand raking against soft skin. It is stupid to be lying down doing this, but I have the fire. Ready—
The campfire, practically dead, suddenly burst into life again—then flared out of control. It lit up the dark, made the spikers shriek in surprise and rear back. Cemal shuddered, seeing them. Spikers never grew pleasant to look on—the size of a horse, with tails as long again, their entire bodies covered in thick, tough hide and razor spikes. Their bony heads were impervious to all damage, and their teeth could tear the limb off a man without even trying.
Their bodies were all muscle, tight and trim; they were built to kill. Despite their size, they could move quietly, and they had uncanny noses. There were worse things in the wood, but those things were not as bold, not as interested in eating whatever they could find.
Had Mahzan really been protecting them this entire time?
Cemal cast out his life force, shaping it into three small shimmering wolves. The spikers would destroy them quickly, but they were only a diversion—spikers had a hard time discerning between real and false animals because, despite their sharp noses, the smell of magic could be confusing.
When the spikers were distracted, he sat up and grabbed his sword, then rolled to his feet as he unsheathed it. Sule stood up beside him, sword drawn, and they raced almost as one toward the nearest spiker.
It swung toward him, tale flashing. Cemal blocked it with magic, grabbed one sharp spine with his leather-gloved hand, and swung down with his sword, slicing between spikes to sever the especially deadly tip of the tail clean off.
He grunted in surprise when he was abruptly shoved—just in time to avoid the jaws that had come at him. Sule's sword swung at the open mouth, catching at the hinges of its jaw. The spiker screamed, and blood gushed everywhere as it tried to work its useless mouth.
Cemal gave it no time to find a new way to attack, but went straight for the soft throat that was the only vulnerability in the naturally armored body. He plunged his sword into it, then scrambled away as it thrashed and fought its death.
The other three spikers broke free of the shadows that bound them and fled into the dark forest, unable to bear the smell of one of their own dying. Cemal eyed the dead one. "I really do not want my sword back," he said, "but I suppose I cannot simply leave it." He grimaced at the smell and approached the corpse.
"There are dead mercs all over the place," Sule said with a grunt. "They have no need of their swords. Or anything else, for that matter. What sort of fools were they, not to put a watch to prevent this very thing? Where is the woman?"
"Here," Malea called, then dropped neatly from her tree, a short bow in her hand. "I was trying to get a shot, for I have the right arrows for spikers, but it was too dark to manage it, and then I could not risk hitting any of you." She looked over the carnage—then looked away again, making a choked noise.
Binhadi gestured to Sule, who, without a word, began to set the v
arious bodies and scattered body parts on fire.
Cemal left him to it and went to explore the woods to be certain the spikers were well and truly gone.
"They're gone," Mahzan called after him. "I sense a ghost in the trees, though. There." He pointed and Cemal went where he indicated, grimacing at what he found—a headless corpse, and to judge from the body…
"Our watchman slipped into the woods to relieve himself." He didn't bother to clarify the man had been relieving himself of sexual tension, probably to thoughts of Malea.
He heard soft, derisive noises in his mind—Sule and Mahzan—and a cool disapproval that could only be Binhadi. He smiled faintly and left the headless corpse to be dealt with by Sule. Returning to the campground, he approached Mahzan and asked, "We were not communicating so seamlessly before. Why is it working now?"
Mahzan shrugged. "Danger? Everything finally settling into place? It also helped that you woke so suddenly and connected before consciousness put up instinctive barriers. Whatever the reason, I have a headache and the ghosts and smell of death are not helping."
"You are the crankiest person I have ever met, and still so dramatic," Sule said as he strode by them.
In reply, Mahzan only gestured crudely, lifting his two middle fingers and spreading them wide. "The next time a spiker pays us a visit, I will quite happily feed you to it."
"If you're not too busy moaning about your head," Sule retorted, and knelt to set another corpse on fire. His face was dirty, eyes bruised looking from exhaustion, and for a moment, he looked much older than his thirty-two years. His face was grim as he set the body alight and stepped out of the way of the flames.
He also looked a trifle pale, and Cemal was reminded that Sule and Mahzan both still needed real rest to fully recover.
"We aren't children," Mahzan said sourly. "Whatever you and Binhadi say, we are adults. We'll be fine. I doubt falling down a well did that much damage to his head, and there's not much worse that can be done to mine." He smiled tightly, but not without humor.
Cemal smiled weakly back and lightly gripped Mahzan's arm before moving to the center of the camp. He drew out his prayer beads, weaving his hands through them before clasping them, and closed his eyes.
It took almost an hour to complete the prayer because he simply could not bear to shorten it—these men had died horribly and deserved a proper farewell if they could have nothing else. He put his beads away and yawned, blinking at Binhadi as he approached. He stared in surprise at the tea Binhadi held out. "Thank you."
Binhadi nodded and sipped his own, looking equally tired. "Dawn is only an hour or so away. We should finish up here and move on when the light permits. For better and worse, the spikers went straight for the mercenaries and never got to the horses."
"Strange, the horses would have made easier pickings." Cemal glanced to where the horses were all gathered, still restless and afraid despite the way Malea tried to soothe them. "What of her?" he asked softly.
"We should help," Mahzan said, joining them. Sule appeared a moment later, travel packs in his hands. "She saved Sule's life, and probably mine."
"How would you know?" Sule asked.
"She's a healer, we were injured," Mahzan retorted. "Also, I'm a mind mage and Binhadi is the only person present who can shield well enough to keep me out. I got more than enough out of Cemal when I woke him up."
Sule rolled his eyes.
"Would you like to know what you're missing?"
"I can explain," Cemal said, before Mahzan dumped all the information into Sule's head and set off another argument.
Binhadi looked at Malea, then at them. "We are on a mission for the king," he said quietly, but there was no reproof in his tone, only quiet reminder.
Mahzan's eyes shimmered. "Dragon's balls, I don't care. We don't even really know what is going on—only that we must pay a certain traitor a merry visit and ask him nicely to keep his pet fearmonger locked up. This ridiculous Oath is going to kill us, one way or another. What does it matter if we take a little longer to reach our demise."
"You are a brat," Binhadi said. "However, perhaps this side venture will give us more time to learn to work as a team, so we can avoid becoming hostages and falling down wells in the future."
"As you say, my lord," Sule groused, and turned sharply away. Approaching Malea, he bowed low and said, "Milady, I thank you for healing my arm. I am sorry for the tragedy that was visited on you this night. Allow us to escort you home and take care of the problem for which you hired these men. It is the least we can do in return for all you've done for us."
Malea drew a sharp breath, clearly startled. "But—that does not seem an even trade, not by half, and my problems do not take precedence over the matters of the king."
Binhadi waved the words aside. "That is for us to decide, and you saved all of our lives by helping Sule and Mahzan. We can and should return the favor, and so we shall."
"Then I thank you," Malea said, "for I need the help and cannot bear to turn it away. I am sorry these men are dead, though. They were kind, for their lot."
Cemal suspected they were just greedy and patient, but did not voice the thought. Whatever they were, they did not deserve to be eaten by spikers—but they also should have put a more responsible man on watch, rather than one more interested in getting himself off than in ensuring everyone's safety.
If I die because one of you decided to slink off to sate yourself, I will find a way to exact revenge from the afterlife, Sule said, the words sharp and clear in Cemal's mind—and just as clear in the others, to judge from the way Binhadi and Mahzan both turned to glare at him.
Sule ignored them and only gestured at Cemal with the packs he held. "Help me gather up any useful supplies and pack the saddlebags. Dawn is close, and the spikers might be gone, but scavengers will be here before too long."
Cemal caught the pack Sule tossed him and set to work.
HEMAL'S PASS
So what is the plan? Mahzan asked, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He was forgetting to speak aloud already, not even two months into the journey. All mind mages who could use mind speak did it eventually. It put him firmly on the path toward insanity, and it was a path he seemed to be traveling at a run.
Letting his hand fall, he said aloud, "So what is the plan? We have debated it endlessly the past three weeks, but I do not recall us ever reaching an agreement on the matter."
Binhadi stirred from his pensive silence as he stared at the village off in the distance. What was he thinking about? Cemal and Sule constantly leaked their thoughts, but Binhadi's were guarded exceptionally well. They were like the fluttering of wings in the dark—Mahzan knew they were there, could feel the brush of feathers, but could not catch hold before they flew away. "Sule should accompany Malea; the presence of a royal soldier will lend credence to her story. The rest of us will arrive later, so no one connects any of us."
Mahzan grimaced. "That is the plan we last discussed, and I still do not like it. We barely know what we are getting into, and dividing us even slightly—"
"I can handle myself," Sule said shortly. "Binhadi can handle you."
"Stay away from wells," Mahzan replied nastily.
Cemal laughed, as he always did when they bickered. "All will be well. Sule, do let us know when and where to meet up with you later. We will do what reconnaissance we can."
"Thank you again," Malea said. "This is not a debt I can ever repay, but I will try my best to do so if it takes the rest of my life."
"That is not necessary," Cemal said. "We are, after all, in your debt."
Malea shook her head. "Absolutely—"
"I am certain that the two of you could argue all day, polite and congenial throughout," Sule cut in, "but let us kill the bandits before we squabble over who owes what to whom?"
Cemal arguing and you being reasonable, Mahzan said, amused. The Last Flight of the Great Dragon is eminent.
So that makes you the Mad Seer who foretells it? Sule replied
, smirking over his shoulder as he kicked his horse into motion. "Come, milady, your husband awaits."
I'm a crazy mind mage, not a mad seer—it's different magic, Mahzan groused.
Malea half-bowed from her horse with a grace Mahzan admired, even envied. She rode off with Sule, leaving the rest of them at the top of the hill. They watched as the pair rode through the high, dark gray walls of Hemal's Pass. "I still do not like it," Mahzan said.
Cemal smiled at him. "You do not need to worry; he will be fine."
Mahzan made a face. "I'm not worried, except about all the trouble we are bringing down on our heads. We barely came out of the last bits of trouble."
"We will be facing much worse," Binhadi replied, "so look on this as experience we sorely need. Unless you enjoy over-using your powers and being carried about like a child."
In reply, Mahzan just gestured crudely.
Binhadi rolled his eyes. "How can you be so engaging when performing, and so childish otherwise?"
Mahzan's brows shot up at the word 'engaging,' annoyed with himself for being pleased to hear it—but why shouldn't he be? He was engaging, even if he had not expected Binhadi to admit it. "Aren't all people still children at heart? Behave nicely in front of big people, bicker when they are gone. No one ever got anywhere by being nice, only playing nice to the right people. There's honesty in children and childish behavior."
"So cynical," Cemal replied, but the twist to his smile added 'but aren't we all?' "We probably should not arrive in the village until just after sunset. Any thoughts from our faithful soldier?"
"No. He is getting rather skilled at blocking me," Mahzan said.
"Which means there is nothing about which we need to be alarmed, since he does not hold his walls up well when he is angry or distressed." Binhadi dismounted his horse and led it deeper into the woods, moving well away from the road on which they had been standing. He called over his shoulder, "We should rest while we have the chance."