“I’ll stand guard,” Ruun’daruun announced once they found a suitable spot.
Ahi’rea frowned. “You need to rest. You cannot heal yourself like I can.”
Ruun’daruun shook his head. “You must See who is left—who escaped. I’ll stand watch so you can See.”
Ahi’rea could not help but smile, warmth flooding through her. He was badly wounded, had walked all day, and was now refusing rest to protect her. Even bruised and exhausted, he was beautiful.
“Daruun.” She sat. “Rest.” She patted the soft ground beside her. “Even if our people are nearby, we cannot travel any further tonight. I will look for them in the morning, after we have both slept.”
Ruun’daruun took one last look around the horizon, taking the moment to consider what she had said. He gingerly lowered himself to the ground and lay down. He made no sounds of discomfort, but his expression belied the pain he was in.
Ahi’rea pressed up against Ruun’daruun, placing one arm and leg across him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding tight to her. Overhead the moon was a bright crescent. Smoke still marred the sky, but in the dark of night she imagined it was only cloud, drifting on the cool, pleasant breeze of the plains. The stars stood out, glittering above them like blue fires in the distance.
“Do you realize,” Ruun’daruun asked, “that this is probably the only time we can be this close without any nosy elders clucking about us?” He pulled Ahi’rea closer.
“You are right,” Ahi’rea said. “Even if we were elders ourselves, they would have something to say about it.”
“Can you imagine if they had followed us to battle? ‘Why are you fighting that way? That’s not how our ancestors held their spears.’”
Ahi’rea giggled and lifted herself on her elbow to gape in surprise at Ruun’daruun. “Another joke! Do you have a fever?” She reached a hand toward his forehead, but withdrew it to protect herself when he started tickling her side.
The tickle ended in an embrace. Ruun’daruun and Ahi’rea locked eyes, staring into one another, and Ahi’rea leaned forward and kissed him. They held each other as if in desperation, neither wanting nor willing to pull away.
Ahi’rea was the first to do so. She lifted herself on her elbow again, gazing down at Ruun’daruun. In their tussling, she had gotten almost on top of him. Their eyes remained locked for what seemed like a long time.
Ruun’daruun’s eyes flicked away, looking past Ahi’rea’s shoulder. She turned and saw glow to the south—light from Halkoriv’s army. They remembered where they were and why.
“We should sleep,” Ahi’rea finally breathed. “We have a long way to go still.” Ruun’daruun nodded. She rolled back to his side, placing her head and arm on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. Together, they soon slept.
—
Once Bor allowed the soldiers to make camp, Azra was able to speak with Tak’la. He dismissed the Huumphar’s guard, then removed Tak’la’s gag and loosened his bonds. Tak’la nodded his thanks, ignoring the raw, rubbed wounds from the ropes and the injuries he had sustained in being captured. He was tied to a tree and the ropes held his wrists close together behind him, in such a way that he had to remain sitting or kneeling.
Tak’la’s prison was a stand of trees and brush not far from the campsite. The forest was cold and damp and moss grew on the many stones protruding from the black earth. The trees were ancient, tall and twisted things hung with moss. Their colors had changed much more here, and despite the damp and cold, the deep forest was bright with leaves the colors of fire, red and yellow hanging from the branches and carpeting the woodland floor. The black trunks stood in stark relief to the colorful branches like the bars of a cage. Only a few dozen feet away, the Cheduna soldiers chopped wood and heaped logs to build a fire.
Azra worried that Tak’la would still be angry or misunderstand his intentions, but those fears were dashed when a slow, tired smile spread across Tak’la’s face. Azra was reminded of how young Tak’la was—even younger than Azra himself.
“I had hoped our paths would cross again.” Tak’la grinned.
“It is just like you to joke around when we could be killed at any moment.” Tak’la’s smile remained. “I am glad to see you, too.” Azra smiled despite his efforts. “Next time I tell you to mind your own business…”
“Yes,” Tak’la interrupted. “We shall go fishing instead.”
Azra sat down beside his friend. “If I let you go now, I fear we will both be killed. When I see an opportunity…”
Tak’la nodded. “It wouldn’t be any use right now.”
“And I am almost as much a captive as you,” Azra lamented. Tak’la gave him a sidelong look. “Almost,” Azra said again. “The soldiers do not know, but their leader, Bor…”
“Ah.” Tak’la nodded once. “He is strong.”
“And he knows about me. He says you will die if I leave and that there is no way for you to escape alive.”
Tak’la raised his chin. “They could not find me if I left their sight.”
Azra shook his head. “He might not have to. Did Bor cut you? Touch your blood?”
Tak’la nodded as his eyes grew wide. “He took my blood on his hands.”
Azra swore.
“That can kill me?” Tak’la asked in disbelief.
“It could. He is like I used to be, Tak’la. Like me but… not quite.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sitis only lives in those of its bloodline, but Halkoriv has many Servants. He rides them, controls them. He gives them power, but they do not realize the power owns them. Bor is like that. He thinks he wields power, but he is the sword, and the Spirit in him is the hand. Not even Halkoriv’s hand, but the hand of something older, something worse. The power can but cut away, and he would be just a man—it might even kill him—but it will never be a true part of him.” Azra felt the pressure in his skull. “But that’s not what Halkoriv did to me. Because Halkoriv thought I was special, he did something different.”
“Did what?” Tak’la asked. “What was different?”
Azra paused. Something Lasivar had said came to him. It is growing in you. Slow realization crept through him, but still he struggled to put all the pieces together. “He hollowed me—removed from me everything of who I was—to make room for the Spirit.” Everything rushed back to him in flashes—his imprisonment, how something had stolen his memories, the human sacrifice Halkoriv had made in Cunabrel, a sacrifice Azra had made to himself; they had all been planned and executed to do one thing—let Sitis the Ravenous Spirit take root in him fully. “That’s it…” he breathed, getting to his feet.
“What?”
“That is why my power came back. That is why he wants me alive. I am not of his blood, and Halkoriv did not know it, but he gave Sitis a way out of the bloodline. It is not Halkoriv at all—it is Sitis. Sitis wants me back because if Halkoriv dies, if Lasivar kills him, it needs me to live on. That is why Halkoriv never figured it out—never knew he had the wrong man.”
“So… what does this mean?”
“It means Halkoriv will not kill me, and neither will Bor. The Spirit will not let them. It rides Bor and owns Halkoriv, just like I fear it could own me—but for now, that means it will do whatever it must to keep me alive.”
“Then you can kill Bor,” Tak’la grinned.
“Maybe. He is powerful, and has nothing to stop him from using his power. The Spirit wants me to open myself, to use it, but I cannot. If I do, it may take me. There are dozens of ways Bor could stop me without killing me.” Azra sat again, unsure how to use his newfound knowledge. “I should not linger. Even though they trust me now, the other soldiers may become suspicious—best not to have any of them looking over our shoulders.” He arose and clasped Tak’la’s arm. “Do not worry, my friend. I am going to get you out of this.”
—
Azra could spend little time with Tak’la if he wanted to avoid suspicion. Bor would surely
have his limits. He was confident and it seemed to amuse him to allow Azra his autonomy, but if he became at all worried he was sure to keep them from speaking—or kill Tak’la. Many days they were not able to speak, instead giving each other a look or nod of reassurance in passing.
Azra wished he could ride alone, but wanted more than anything to avoid Bor. That was best accomplished by speaking with the soldiers, who exhibited a restrained excitement to be in his presence. They rode alongside Azra, speaking about the army’s progress in the Plains, their clandestine journey into the North, and more mundane topics like their families and homes in the South. Azra was reminded of how he had been told the plainsfolk were little more than animals. He wondered if their warriors would be surprised to hear Cheduna soldiers speak of farms and fishing, of sons and daughters and wives. They fight for the same reason I did, he thought as a man called Holden described the barn he had built after the previous campaign. They are told to fight, and they gain from it. They are turned toward the one called ‘enemy,’ and they charge. The difference is that they do not all enjoy the killing as I did. He looked ahead at Bor, leading the group along the forest path. Tak’la guessed that they would reach the plains within a week. Bor would ride ceaselessly if the others had not needed the rest, and Azra almost wished they could. The days were interminable, the hours crawling by without end.
He grunted agreement to whatever Holden had just asked him. The soldier looked pleased and went on, changing the subject to his daughter’s approaching marriage.
Azra’s head pounded as his thoughts wound about him in great, circuitous paths, thoughts of Halkoriv, Ahi’rea, Tak’la’s safety, the constant pressure in his skull—they all led back upon themselves and to the same reality. There was little Azra could do but ride and wait.
“As long as I’m back home before winter, I don’t much care,” Holden was concluding. Azra glanced up to see that the soldier was looking away to the south. “They said this push would only take two months. Turned out a stretch longer, eh, sir?”
What would he think if I told him the Huumphar have only as much desire to fight as he does? Azra wondered. Holden turned his grizzled face back to Azra, waiting for a response.
“You are an honorable man,” Azra said, and meant it. “To stay and fight when your heart tells you not to.”
Holden looked confused. “My job, sir. My duty.”
Azra nodded. “Would that your leaders discharged theirs so faithfully.”
Holden’s mouth opened, closed. His gaze went from Azra to Bor and back.
“A family must be a precious thing,” Azra said. “You have a duty to them as well. You will be home for your daughter’s marriage.” Azra smiled at Holden, set his jaw, and rode ahead and called to Bor.
—
Ruun’daruun waved at the trampled grass and earth. “Lasivar passed through here.” There was no need to look too hard when one was tracking an army.
“Yesterday, probably. We are getting close now, but so are the Cheduna. I Saw them closing in, and they have a head start on us.” She cast her eyes over the horizon, scanning the south. The faint, far off sound of the eastern sea reached her.
“Their scouts stand out like stars in the night sky. If they were near, we would see them—or you would, in any case.”
“Daruun, the Sight does not show me everything,” Ahi’rea said. “We should be careful. I know you are feeling better, but it has still only been a few days.”
“My wounds are healing. Even if their scouts were nearby, it should be no trouble to sneak past them—and only little more to put a spear to them.” He beckoned her and started south. “Let’s go—we might be able to catch up to Lasivar by nightfall if we hurry.”
Ahi’rea cast her eyes to the west, but turned and followed Ruun’daruun. It felt good to move. The motion of her legs began to work off the night’s chill. The weight of her spear kissed her hand. She looked up to see Ruun’daruun watching her over his shoulder, slowing his pace.
“You have the most graceful stride.”
She caught up to him, giving him a shove. “And you will fall headfirst in a ditch if you watch me instead of your path.”
Ruun’daruun spun, jumping in time to avoid a rut dug in the earth by runoff. Ahi’rea marveled at him—he had been running for days, injured, without complaint. He flashed her a smile and caught her hand for a moment before turning his attention to the task before them. She squeezed his hand, just to feel his reassuring squeeze in response. No matter what happened, no matter how badly he was hurt, how numerous their foes, how great their troubles—she knew he would never leave her, never rest as long as he drew breath.
The smoke from the plains fires lingered. The sun’s glow was red and the clouds above were a brilliant orange in the dawn. Autumn’s approach hinted that the air would remain cool throughout the day, for which Ahi’rea was thankful. A gentle breeze blew from the south, and the grass around them rolled like waves on a sea of gold.
The beauty of the plains struck Ahi’rea, as it always did, and only the memory that others were trying to take them away recalled her attention to her surroundings.
On they ran, conserving their breath and only speaking when necessary. Mile after mile passed beneath their feet. Urgency pressed itself on them when Ahi’rea noticed a telltale dust cloud to the southwest. The Cheduna army was not far—but they had finally caught up. They ran faster.
Hours later, they saw signs of Lasivar’s army’s camp. They had lit no fires, but Ruun’daruun estimated they were now only a few hours behind. Excitement was clear in his voice. “We’ll reach them by tonight, I’m sure of it.”
They stopped seldom and but for a rest beneath the boughs of one of the few hardy plainsland trees. Ahi’rea lay on her back, gazing up while droplet-shaped red leaves the size of her fingertip floated down and alighted on her skin. Ruun’daruun kept watch until she insisted that they switch, but he fidgeted and remained vigilant during his turn to rest. After too little time, she extended a hand to help him to his feet. He grasped her wrist and rose, pulling her close into an embrace. He lifted his hand to her chin and she turned her face up to kiss him.
They forgot the world for a moment, locked together, and felt only each other’s touch—but the moment passed and they remembered their fallen kin and the enemies over the horizon. They ran on.
The sun left its peak and began to sink into the west. They were not far; the grasses were freshly trampled around them. The army’s path had turned further east and now Ahi’rea could see the ocean in the distance, growing dark as the sun grew low.
Ahi’rea was uneasy. They had seen none of their own scouts, nor any other Huumphar since the failed assault. She was anxious to catch up to Lasivar and find out if any of the others had returned.
Lasivar—had he foreseen this? Had he known what would happen? She pushed the thought away, but did not disregard it. Plenty of time to worry about that when we reach him.
On and on they ran. Ahi’rea ignored her protesting muscles and willed her lungs to greater effort. She took a swig from her waterskin, keeping her pace. She thought of landmarks, mapping mental routes around the plains to keep her mind occupied while she ran. It was a meaningless exercise; the routes looped and doubled back, leading nowhere, but while she did it she forgot her weariness and ran without effort.
There was still enough sun peeking over the plains to last them another hour or so. She hoped they would not have to wait out another night before catching up to the army.
Ruun’daruun snatched her wrist, pulling her from her thoughts. Together they slowed, dropping low to the ground. Ruun’daruun pointed and Ahi’rea glimpsed a Cheduna soldier in light leather armor just as he passed behind a low rise before them.
“Scouts,” Ruun’daruun whispered. “We must be close.” He slid his machete from its scabbard.
Ahi’rea put her hand on his. “Better if they do not know we have returned.”
Ruun’daruun looked over at her and hesita
ted. He replaced the weapon in its sheath. “You’re right. Even if all they find is a body, they will know the Huumphar were not all killed.”
They crept forward, eyes and ears alert for the southern scouts. The sun was low and the shadows deep. Despite the Huumphar disdain for Cheduna attempts at stealth, Ahi’rea and Ruun’daruun knew better than to underestimate their foes now, so close to their goal. Together they stalked through the grasses, each footfall silent, each motion matched to a breeze.
They spotted the scout. He faced north, watching the area in which they had waited moments before. His armor blended well with the plains and he was motionless—which was how they had seen him. Around him, the grasses waved and shifted with each gentle breath of wind.
They were about to move on when Ahi’rea caught sight of another scout, on the other side of them. He too was still and silent, bow at the ready. He was looking right at them.
She tensed, grip tightening on her spear. She could not lift and throw it in the time it would take the scout to fire—but perhaps she could draw the attack so that Ruun’daruun would have time.
Her eyes flickered once and she stayed her hand—she felt no imminent danger. She realized as the scout looked away that he had not seen them, though he had seemed to be focused on their position. She exhaled, relieved she had not attacked. She caught Ruun’daruun’s attention, indicated the second scout, and slunk away from the southerners, continuing south. Ruun’daruun followed, watching behind to ensure they were not noticed and followed.
They were soon out of earshot, but they remained low and quiet. Ruun’daruun jerked his head west. Ahi’rea followed his motion with her gaze and noted thin smoky columns. Campfires. The Cheduna army was indeed close. She thought she could hear their voices in the distance.
To the south they saw no smoke, no fires giving away Lasivar’s position. As Ahi’rea took stock of the landscape, however, her heart sank.
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