The group trudged down through a draw and over a shallow rise before descending again. The Azyrean’s sense of ease improved with each step. Even the gray morning light seemed to be turning a pale shade of blue. Looking into the sky to the east, he could see a bright spot—the sun was struggling to break through.
He focused his thoughts and tried to put himself back into Virgil’s group. How long had they walked in the brush before breaking into the deep forest? As he recalled, it seemed maybe an hour, possibly two. He worked backwards. Virgil’s group had started before dawn and reached the ruins well before dark.
“I don’t think it’s much farther. I know that we went through bushes and then heavy trees. If I’m right, we should start seeing the large trunks soon.” He felt a spring in his step. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. They had found their way without any problems. And they had done it without Burns’ help. Jarek felt a little guilty at that last thought. After all, he was supposed to be trying to help bring her back, not figure out how to get by without her. But what if he couldn’t help? What if she chose to let herself slide the rest of the way over the edge? Aristan told him that he couldn’t force her. She had to fix herself.
As if on cue, the god spoke to him in his head. “She’s your friend. Do not abandon her.”
No sooner had the voice fallen silent than something changed. The ambient light faded back to a dark charcoal. Directly ahead of them, a cone of shimmering silver light appeared, almost as though a star had wandered down to the surface to guide them. The light grew brighter until it took form and stood blocking their way. This was no star, and the being that confronted them was no friend.
Chapter 16: Ebon Hills
The thing moved effortlessly. It glided forward and to the right as though floating on air, its legs barely moving. Thing was the best term Jarek could think of to describe it. It looked almost human, except not. Its body, of course, was not much different from any other man that he had seen in this land. But its face held no expression at all. The eyes were vacant. It was as if it had no need for sight. A thin tightly-drawn line existed where a mouth might have been. Its skin was a milky, almost unnatural white, and gray and white hair flowed over its shoulders and down its chest and back.
What struck Jarek most were the eyes. He remembered where he had seen those—in the cave. The assassin that had come for CeCe had that same haunted look. Jarek reached to his belt and pulled his dagger, not that he had any confidence of prevailing over this fighter. To his right, Ratio withdrew his sword, although it appeared more as a formality than an act of combat. The weapon seemed more ceremonial than practical. And the brother wielding it looked comically clumsy and unsuited for fighting. Still, he dropped into a crouching position holding the sword in both hands.
The assassin floated closer and even more to the right, as though to circle the small party. The thin line where the mouth should have been morphed into a smile, cold and filled with hatred, while the eyes betrayed nothing.
With Jarek and Ratio positioning for a fight, Burns stood, arms at her side, staring with a blank look that matched their adversary’s.
“Burns, we need you. Please.” Jarek nudged her with his elbow. Nothing—no words, no movement, no change in expression.
With a dagger in each hand, the thing struck. He seemed to magically teleport to the party, slashing and then withdrawing. Jarek heard Ratio grunt. He looked over to see blood streaming from a gash in the brother’s shoulder. The assassin returned to its circling tactic.
Jarek continued to turn, keeping his face to the adversary, waiting for the inevitable next strike. He didn’t have to wait long.
The being’s image shimmered, disappeared, and then reappeared, all within the course of a second or two. And the Azyrean felt a sharp spike of pain in his right side. Blood began to spread on his tunic. “Burns, please. Don’t let this happen.” But he wasn’t sure what he expected of her. While she was one of the rebels, he had never seen her engaged in combat. Maybe she didn’t even know how to fight.
The image shimmered again. Jarek slashed blindly with his dagger, but not feeling any resistance, figured he had missed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ratio’s sword swing. The assassin reappeared, its ghastly version of a smile better defined.
Jarek knew he had a choice. He could either continue to wait and try to react and defend. Or he could attack. Neither seemed like a particularly good idea. But, as things stood, he was almost certain to die. An odd thought slipped into his mind. In the past, Virgil and his troops always came to the rescue. But they were gone, through a portal to Crystal Sands. Burns, Ratio, and the Azyrean beam keeper were on their own.
He took a deep breath and threw himself at the form in front of him. The assassin slithered out of the way and slashed out, cutting into Jarek’s left shoulder. Pain shot down his arm and dizziness began to set in. He stood, glanced at the wound on his shoulder, and then raised his dagger in front of him.
Just at that moment, Ratio charged. The thing again stepped aside and sliced at the brother, apparently without actually cutting him. But the effort gave Jarek an opening. With the assassin facing away from him, Jarek rushed, plunging his blade into its right lower back.
The thing howled and whirled around, daggers flashing. But Jarek rolled away in plenty of time to avoid the blades. He came up into a crouching position and felt oddly exhilarated at the small success.
Ratio threw himself at the assailant who must have anticipated the charge. He kicked the brother away and bore down on him, holding the daggers before him as he crept in for the kill.
Jarek rushed again. But his luck didn’t hold. It was as though the assassin had eyes in the back of his head. He kicked backward and caught Jarek square in the chest, throwing him about five meters. Jarek struck a tree and slumped down, pain coursing through his body. Get up! Don’t let them down. He struggled to right himself, but his body would not cooperate.
The thing turned his attention once again to Ratio. The brother flailed about apparently trying to stand. But he also appeared lost. So, this would be it. Hope faded. Jarek slumped back against the tree, becoming more resigned by the second. Maybe the end would come quickly, with no pain. He watched as the assassin crept toward Ratio.
At the last moment, a figure literally flew onto the assailant from behind. Burns! She slashed with her sword, carving deep into the assassin’s back. It whirled to face her, still without expression. This distraction gave Ratio the time he needed to right himself. He approached the being from the other side.
Jarek forced himself up. Maybe the three of them together could do it.
As though reading the Azyrean’s mind, the assassin withdrew from the three and turned to face them. The smile, such as it was, remained. Although the mouth didn’t move, words poured forth from his face. “I will return.” And with that, he vanished.
Chapter 17: Ebon Hills
Jarek felt an odd combination of gratitude and anger. Burns had saved them. She had come through when it counted. But she had waited until the very last minute. Because of that, the Azyrean had two knife wounds and Ratio had one, not to mention being kicked around. She could have acted sooner.
The inner voice intruded on his thoughts. “Perhaps. But maybe her inaction gave your enemy a false sense of confidence. Had he known that all three of you would fight, he might have acted differently. As it was, he focused only on two of you, leaving Burns unattended, as it were.”
Arguing with a god was not Jarek’s highest priority, so he ignored the input. He stumbled over to where Ratio had collapsed against a tree. “How’s that shoulder?” He couldn’t tell how deep the cut was, but the blood had spread down the arm and onto his chest.
“I’ll live, I guess.” He knelt and fished around in his pack. “I just need to get something on the wound to stop the bleeding.”
Burns pushed Jarek aside, perhaps a bit more roughly than was called for. “Lemme have a look.” She dropped onto both knees as she
eased the slit in his tunic apart and examined the wound. “Yeah. We need to stop the bleeding. If I had thread and a needle, I could sew it up. But it’ll have to wait.”
Jarek bit back his harsh words. Burns had almost let them be killed and now she was pushing him aside and acting as though she was the great savior. He turned his attention to his own wounds, both of which were beginning to throb. The cut on his shoulder had stopped bleeding. The blade had apparently not sliced too deep. The wound in his side felt worse—it looked more like a stab than a slice. And the blood continued to spread. He rummaged around in his own pack and found some cloth. Stuffing it inside his tunic, he winced with pain as he pushed it into place.
Burns turned her attention to the Azyrean. “Let’s see that. It looks pretty deep.”
“I’m fine.” He turned away from her, stifling his anger. “We need to get moving. That thing said it would be back. I’d just as soon not be here when it arrives.” He picked up and shouldered his pack.
They turned once again toward the forest. The fog had lifted, but a gray overcast remained. Out of the brush, they moved quickly among the large tree trunks. They marched in silence, Jarek’s uncharitable thoughts directed at Burns.
“That attitude is not helping.” Aristan returned.
Yeah, well, she’s not helping either.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d say, right off hand, that she saved your life. That would seem to fall into the category of helping.”
Jarek didn’t have a good comeback for that one. Whatever else was true, Burns had saved them.
“Very good, my friend. Very good.” Aristan’s voice softened. “Jarek, this is part of what she must do to return to you. And, for your part, you must allow it. You must be willing to take her back, a little at a time, as she offers it. You cannot demand it. Her recovery will take its own course and time. Your task is to be there for her.”
Whatever you say. Jarek had to admit that the god made a lot of sense. Burns had risen to the occasion. Maybe not the way he would have wanted, but she did act. That was more than she’d been doing.
Before he could continue the discussion with the god, they broke into a clearing and Jarek recognized the ruins. “This is it. We’re here.”
◆◆◆
Despite their fear that the assassin would return, they built a fire. Jarek reasoned that the thing wouldn’t need light to find them anyway. So they might as well be comfortable while they waited.
The trio sat around the fire, eating smoked meat and stale bread in silence. When he could do so inconspicuously, Jarek studied Burns’ face. The flat, emotionless look from the days before had changed, ever so slightly. She looked worried, her eyes focused on the meat in her hands.
Finally, out of nowhere, she unleashed a torrent of hostility on both of the men. “This isn’t going to work. I’m done! I can’t play nursemaid to the two of you. Whatever it is you want to do, you’re going to have to do it without me.” She stood, planting her hands on her hips and staring at them.
Ratio met her gaze momentarily, and then went back to eating without response.
Jarek considered her for a moment. And it occurred to him that what he said next would matter. He recalled what Aristan had told him—that she would need to come back on her own terms in her own time. “I’m sorry, Burns. I know that I’m not much of a fighter. And, whatever you decide, I am grateful to you for saving us back there.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “Well, I can’t keep doing it. I can’t save everyone.” The words came out defiantly and then her voice softened. “I can’t save anyone.”
The Azyrean knew exactly what she was saying. It was the massacre back at the camp that was eating at her. Her friends had died, and she had not been there to save them. He knew, and hoped she did as well, that if she had been there, she would have probably died, too. “I understand, Burns, I really do. But the thing is you did save Ratio and me. Without you, we would have both been dead.”
“But everyone at the camp is dead.”
Jarek stood and faced her. “No. They are not. We did not find West’s body. And what about CeCe and Corny? And don’t forget, Brother Martin’s family was there and we didn’t find any of their bodies, either.”
“Maybe they were captured and hauled away to the dungeons. Maybe they’re going to be executed by the king, just for display.”
Jarek considered her words. “Maybe, but I doubt it. Whoever raided that camp came to kill. It makes no sense that they would kill some and capture others. My guess is that those who didn’t die escaped. We just have to find them.”
“And just how do you intend to go about that? Even if they did manage to escape, we have no idea where they would go.” Her words came out somewhat less hostile than the previous ones. She was coming back.
Jarek shrugged. “I don’t know. But if Ratio is right, then we might be able to find the brothers somewhere in this area. They can help us figure out how to search for West and the others.”
Before Burns could respond, a new voice sounded. “Well, well. What have we here?”
Chapter 18: Crystal Sands
Marzi was barely out of the tent when she spied her brother headed across the compound toward the ogre forces. “Hey Tovi, wait up.” She broke into a run to catch up with him.
He turned as she approached. “I’m just going over to see Klunk. His papaw got here this morning. He works in the mines. Come on.” He gestured toward a group conversing about ten meters distant.
As they drew closer, Marzi picked out Klunk—he looked younger than the others. He stood listening as an older ogre spoke, his hand on Klunk’s shoulder.
“Hey Klunk. You remember my sister, Marzi.” Tovi gestured toward her. Turning to face his sister, he continued, “And this is his papaw.” The young Azyrean beamed.
Marzi bowed her head momentarily before offering a smile. “It is good to meet you, sir.”
The older man considered her for a moment. “I am honored. Tovi has said much about you. He has helped us against the humans. And now you are here to help us, along with the elves and other humans.”
She glanced over at Tovi. Funny, her brother didn’t look so much like a weasel any more. It was strange to hear someone talk about him in those kinds of terms. It was like he was some kind of hero.
Klunk tousled Tovi’s hair. “Yes. He was sent to us, I am sure of it. I have heard that you were sent to the elves and that you helped them. But I am curious. You and your brother are special. Are all Azyreans like you, or are you special even among your own people?”
Marzi thought it a strange question. She was, after all, not special and neither was Tovi. “Thank you for your kind words. I assure you that we do nothing that anyone else wouldn’t do. I am sure that you would do the same for us if you were in our world and it was threatened.” The notion did cause her to think, though. Would her elven friends do the same? Ryshara and Ran had helped her, even at the risk of their own lives and freedom. And Elle—she had become the truest friend Marzi ever had. She had made clothing and boots for her. And she had been willing to fight the frost elves, even though it would have meant her death. Yes, her friends would do the same for her. She was certain of it.
Captain Virgil broke up the exchange. “Excuse me, Klunk. Tomorrow I lead some of our people to the area where we expect Wyndred’s forces to come through the portal. Since I’m not familiar with the area, I would like to have a guide. I understand both you and Kharla have been there. Perhaps one of you might lead us?”
Klunk stepped forward. “We would be pleased to help you, but it does create a problem. Kharla leads our battle forces and going with you would take her away from our people. Likewise, I am called up to speak for our kraals and being away would leave the chiefs without a voice. The distance is such that it will be a full day, there and back, and you may want to stay for a while to explore.”
Tovi spoke up. “I know where the place is. I can go with you.”
Marzi panicked. This portal
they spoke of was where they expected the king’s forces to enter the desert. That would put her brother right in the middle of the fight. “You should stay here, Tovi. Surely one of the other ogres would be a better choice.”
“No. I was there. None of the rest of them know where it is.” He folded his arms and glared at her.
“But you’re not a fighter. If the army comes through while you’re there, you’ll be caught in the middle.”
Klunk spoke up. “I, too, worry for Tovi, but I have seen him in a fight. There is none braver. And the words and truth of Myhrren are with him. I believe he is the one who is meant to go.”
Marzi felt outnumbered. A big part of her worry, though, was the still unresolved issue of Tovi being the one to deal directly with Dredwyn. Her brother had told her that the mandate came from this Myhrren character, whom she’d yet to meet. She was still trying to work out exactly how she was going to thwart that. She would never allow it, of course. Her brother could not do anything of the sort.
Before she had a chance to respond, a new voice entered the discussion. “Ah, and so I finally get to meet the esteemed Marzi Gloam of Pangrove.”
She turned to see a wizened old man smiling warmly at her.
“I am Myhrren and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
To say that she felt overwhelmed would be an understatement. Everyone was against her, and now here was the man that wanted to send her brother up against a demon.
“I can see that you are distressed. Let us take a walk. We have much to discuss.”
The two of them strolled out across the sands toward a small oasis, Myhrren in no apparent hurry. “You are worried for Tovi. I can understand that. The days ahead are full of uncertainty. But events are in motion and to deny your involvement would be to put you and everyone at even greater risk.”
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