144: Wrath

by Dallas E. Caldwell

  Turning back toward the door, Polas saw a young girl and a burdened Faldred enter the saloon. They approached the bar, and he could not help but overhear their conversation as their eyes fell on him.

  "Do you think that's him?" the girl said.

  "I could not begin to guess, except that his blade seems very unique," the Faldred replied.

  Polas stood and tried to shield his weapon from their view as he made to leave the bar.

  "Of course!" The young girl stepped in front of Polas, blocking his path. "Excuse me, sir. That sword you carry, it is the Blade of Leindul, is it not?"

  Polas tried to step past her, hoping that she had not chanced a long enough glance at the sword to be sure.

  "You must be Master Kas Dorian. We’ve found you," the girl said. "Leindul be praised."

  Polas stared at her for a moment, scoffed, and brushed past her. The Faldred met him with a wide smile and an outstretched hand, but Polas took a wide berth around the man and exited the saloon.

  "When did I become so damned popular?" he grumbled.

  The fiery-haired girl caught up with Polas near the hitching post while the Faldred waved her forward and wandered off down the street. Polas checked his saddlebags and adjusted his horse’s reins.

  "Master Kas Dorian, please wait," she said. "My name is Xandra, the Daughter of Hope. It is my destiny to join with you on your crusade. My teacher, Flint the White Handed, and I have journeyed from the Hollow Mountains to find you."

  From the alley beside the saloon, Kiff came speeding out. He rode atop a floating board that bobbed and weaved over and around trash bins and discarded boxes. Six glowing magestones were affixed to the bottom of the board giving it an arcane lift. He skidded to a halt next to Xandra, kick-flipped the board up into his hand, and landed neatly on the ground.

  "Hello, now, where’d you find this heat?" he asked. "New recruit to join us on our epic quest?"

  Xandra continued to stare at Polas, the conviction in her gaze unsettling him a bit.

  "I don’t know who she is," Polas said. "And neither of you is joining me."

  "With all due respect, Master Kas Dorian," Xandra said, "this is what I have been training for my entire life. My destiny lies along the road you travel."

  "You know," Kiff said, "I’m traveling that same road myself. I guess that means our destinies are intertwined as well."

  Polas and Xandra both turned blank faces toward the Undlander.

  Kiff shrugged. "Look, Polas –"

  "Master Kas Dorian," Xandra corrected him.

  "Look, Master Kas Dorian," Kiff said with a mock bow, "Matthew the Blue told me to go with you, so that’s what I’m going to do. And this heat here looks about as stubborn as a leszay bug on an ant’s nest."

  "You should talk less, lest your mouth walk you into trouble," Xandra said, casting an angry glare at Kiff. "Besides, it’s not my decision." She softened her gaze and returned her eyes to Polas. "As I said before, I was born for this."

  Polas climbed onto his horse and looked down at her.

  "You have no idea what you’re getting into, do you?" Polas said a sigh. "Probably raised by that Faldred friar and trained your whole life for something you don’t even understand. Do you even know where I am going?"

  Xandra spread her arms out wide and closed her eyes. "You are going to restore Hope to Traesparin."

  "Not quite." Polas sat quietly for a moment, staring down the stone-worked street. A lord rode atop a grey steed, and many of the citizens stopped to watch him pass. A group of young lords trailed behind him on their own, less impressive horses, and behind them, a young Peltin boy in rags cleaned up the trail left in their mounts' wake. "I once thought that myself, but the truth is far less inspiring. There is no hope where I am going. There is only death. Waysmale does not treat its visitors kindly."

  Xandra squared her shoulders and took a step toward the front of Polas’s horse, grabbing its reins.

  "I understand that, sir," she said. "And I assure you, I am no mere child."

  Polas had a flash; a brief memory of little Leyryl when she was six years old, demanding that she be allowed to plow the fields with Kurth, insisting that she was old enough.

  Kiff cocked his head to the side. "Did you say Waysmale?"

  Polas chose to ignore the boy. "Not a child, you say? Ov neeyolshen di tinai yahk tohloo eenlas ahkulo."

  "Lotuh nee ol ov ayvehs. Lotuh germna di Leindul," Xandra responded.

  Polas was impressed. The High Peltin language had been considered archaic even in his time.

  "Pardon," Kiff interrupted. "Can we perhaps pick a language everyone knows? I caught maybe one word out of that, but I don't think there are any outhouses in the area. Though the Nest does have a somewhat clean latrine."

  Behind them, the Faldred the girl had called Flint approached, leading three horses. One horse was dark brown with a white nose and carried the bulk of their gear. The second was a ruddy tan color with a dark mane and an oversized saddle. The final horse was pure white with bright, yellow-brown eyes.

  Polas attempted to turn his horse and leave, but Xandra held tight.

  "I am joining you, Master Kas Dorian," Xandra said tapping her quarterstaff on the ground, "unless you are prepared to prohibit me. We can travel with you as allies, or we can follow along in your trail."

  "Five falcons on the heat," Kiff said.

  Polas hesitated for a moment, considering her offer. He was not above teaching a young girl a lesson in manners, but deep down he respected her conviction.

  "Very well," Polas conceded, "but you are responsible for your own lives. I’ve led a legion to their deaths in the valleys of Waysmale. I will have no more lost souls to weigh on my conscience."

  Flint handed the reins of the white horse to Xandra with a confused look.

  "What did I miss?"

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They rode west from Odes’Kan toward the plains of Nas Sonath. Polas led the group without a map or familiar road-marker to guide him. He never spoke of their destination or of anything really. The others kept stride behind him as they passed over the gently rising and falling landscape.

  Polas looked up into the crystal sky and drank in the beauty around him. Wind swept across their path, rustling the tall grass and bringing with it the sweet smell of tevri blossoms. High overhead, a sparrowhawk floated lazily with the breeze. A herd of bison thundered over a distant hill, kicking up dust and thenel seeds in a cloud behind them.

  Flint nodded as one barely escaping sleep, holding on to wakefulness only enough to keep his horse trailing after the others. Xandra rode a few lengths behind Polas, leading their packhorse beside her own. The Undlander swerved back and forth on his hovering board, doing an occasional trick off a nearby boulder.

  "Could you please stop doing that?" Xandra asked. "You’re frightening the horses."

  "I follow, heat," the boy said as he slowed his board to keep pace next to Xandra. "You'd prefer that I stay right here and keep you company."

  Xandra sighed heavily.

  "So, Xandra right?" he said. "You a Coranthen?"

  Flint opened one eye and inclined his head to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  "No. I am a Peltin," she said curtly. "And you are an Under-Peltin."

  "Undlander, thanks."

  He swept his board out to the side, skipped off a large boulder, and startled Xandra’s horse. Had the Undlander been made of ice, Xandra’s eyes surely would have melted him.

  "And what brings an Undlander out of his cave and into the sunlight?"

  Kiff rose up into the air on his board reaching his right hand toward the sky.

  "You know, adventure and excitement," he replied. "I figured I’d make my fortune on the surface before retiring to a palatial estate in Harrowheart."

  "It’s more likely that he’s finishing a Name Quest," Flint interjected.

  "Master?" Xandra said, sounding a bit startled.

  "It is customary in Undlander culture for yo
ung boys to leave home on a ritualistic Name Quest in an effort to earn what will become their family name before returning home to begin the next generation of Undlanders. Though it is difficult to guess an Undlander's age behind his trappings, I would assume this is the case with our new ally."

  Xandra turned back toward the boy. "What is your name?"

  "Kiff."

  Flint was silent for a moment while he waited for Kiff to continue.

  "Kiff? And what of your earned name?" Flint asked. "Have you not --"

  "Just Kiff," the Undlander said. "At least until we get to know each other a little better."

  Flint laughed and slowed his horse to remove himself from the pair’s conversation, but he could not help but enjoy watching the back and forth. Xandra had spent so precious little time with any creatures outside of the Hollow Mountains that he thought of interactions such as these as good training for her.

  "So, Xandra," Kiff said, spinning his board around a few times before facing forward again. "Why are you traveling with a wrinkly, cave wog and a creepy, old man?"

  Flint nearly choked. "Cave wog!"

  "This ‘cave wog’ is my teacher," Xandra replied. "He raised me at the Temple of Leindul in the Hollow Mountains. And as for Master Kas Dorian, it is my destiny to take part in his great quest. It has been prophesied that --"

  "Do you people ever stop to breathe?" Polas cut in.

  Xandra lowered her head in humility and Flint resumed his quasi-nap.

  Kiff shared in the forced silence by straying a bit away from the party. He swung his board out wide and chased a few prairie dogs into their dens. A few times, he stopped his board and let the group leave him behind, only to race back to them moments later.

  He tricked off another boulder, tripped up, and careened off the road a bit. He regained control, checked to make sure the others had not seen him, and drifted back over to Xandra’s side.

  "So, Xandra," Kiff said, "I’m no scholar, but Xandra means fearful or something? Eksahn is High Peltin for fear, right? I took a few language classes in my youth."

  Flint cleared his throat and encouraged his horse forward to join them. "Xand-ra. From eksahnras. Quite literally, ‘fearless.’"

  "Wow, ‘fearless’ huh?" Kiff was impressed. "That’s a good name." His board dipped and lifted over a bump in the road. "Is it true?"

  Xandra glared, and Kiff almost felt the need to dodge.

  Kiff considered pressing the issue further, but thought better of it. Instead, he ducked low, holding the edge of his board, and sped forward to catch up with Polas.

  "So, Mr. Butcher," he said, "you planning on riding all the way to Waysmale? We might run into trouble with that watery expanse some people call an ocean."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The road had run out halfway through the first day, and Polas had been left to guide by instinct. The open plains of Nas Sonath had changed little since his time. Cool, salty winds still blew in from the north, and soft yellow grass brushed his boots. They rested the first night in a low basin and broke camp before dawn the next morning. They lunched on horseback, despite Flint’s protestations, and continued their trek until late in the evening.

  Polas stopped the group and allowed a short rest so that the others could eat their dinners. He took a wedge of traveler’s mune, popped it into his mouth, and went for a walk. He had begun seeing signs of his quarry a few hours earlier and wanted to confirm his suspicions. A short distance from the group, he found a series of small circular mounds dug in the ground in an area of flat, grassless land. Each was about a foot in diameter and looked as though they had been recently filled. He knelt and ran his hand through the loose soil. Someone had camped here recently, and he had a good suspicion as to whom. He only needed to find an adequate site to put down for the night; somewhere obvious.

  For good measure, he led the group a few kallows further to a clear spring before he called them to a stop. They led their horses to the edge of the water as night fell on the plain. A few moren lizards slaked their thirst a short distance up the small creek behind a series of low hills. Somewhere behind them, a burrowl hooted from deep inside its den. The evening’s first stars flickered in the darkening sky, and the day’s beauty gave way to the night’s peace and stillness.

  "This will be far enough," Polas said.

  Kiff slowed his board, "You do realize we’re still about five thousand kallows from Waysmale, right?"

  "Master Kas Dorian," Xandra said, "please excuse my ignorance, but why are we here?"

  "Yours is not the only race to hold onto prophecies. I'm hoping to meet someone here."

  Polas dismounted as a great shadow fell upon the plain. It took his eyes a moment to recognize the silhouette that blocked out the starlight, but there was no mistaking the shape of a trade ship flying high above them.

  "Hells take me," Polas said.

  The others followed his gaze up into the heavens and marveled along with him.

  "It's not every day you see an airship," Kiff said. "Especially in Maduria."

  "I thought they were illegal," Xandra said.

  "Nothing's illegal if you have enough money," Kiff said. "Besides, who's gonna go catch them?"

  "I'm just surprised anyone still tries it after the Crone crashed in Berco," Flint said. "It is considerably dangerous to sail those ships in uncharted sky lanes. Were they to fly over a pocket of undiscovered black iron, there would be little chance of survival for anyone on board."

  "Ships fly?" Polas asked.

  "Yes," Flint replied.

  "In the air?"

  "You've missed out on a lot, Butcher," Kiff said.

  "I guess I have." Polas watched until the ship became an indistinguishable black dot in the distant sky. By the time it was gone, the others had already begun setting up the campsite, so Polas turned to gather kindling for a fire.

  Xandra dug through one of Flint’s bags and revealed an orange orb the size of a wheat loaf. She cleared a small area of dirt and set the strange stone in the middle. With a wave of her hand, the stone glowed gently and exuded warmth that would keep them all comfortable throughout the night.

  Polas shrugged and tossed his gathered sticks to the side. He removed his boots, selected a place at the edge of the stone’s glow to sit, and watched the suns as they hid themselves away beyond the horizon.

  Flint struggled to set up a small tent, finally giving up and allowing Xandra to help him. She bowed to her teacher and Polas before entering the tent and preparing for sleep.

  Kiff returned from relieving himself upstream a short time later. He looked over to Polas and nodded toward the east. The general shook his head, and Kiff shrugged as he stepped over the already sleeping Flint on his way to Xandra’s tent.

  "Knock, knock," he said as he lifted the tent’s flap.

  Inside, Xandra sat with legs crossed on a fur blanket, wearing only a light gown. She jerked the blanket up to her shoulders and scooted to the back edge of the small tent.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Save your spells," Kiff said. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

  "Well," Xandra said, "goodnight."

  Kiff ran his gloved fingers over the plush, white fur of Xandra’s blanket.

  Her eyes flitted between Kiff, the tent’s opening, and the quarterstaff by her bed, and he knew that he needed to come up with worthwhile conversation quickly or find himself back outside on his rear.

  "Is this Ampen fur?" Kiff asked.

  "What? No! Why would anyone skin an Ampen?"

  Kiff shrugged. "I guess because they’re soft?"

  "That’s horrible."

  "Yeah, really?" Kiff forced an uncomfortable laugh. "Who would do that?"

  Xandra studied the Undlander behind the safety of her blanket. In Faldred culture, girls were not afforded the same type of education as the boys, so she, as a student of Flint the White-Handed, had grown up surrounded by only Faldred young men while the Faldred girls learned directly from their mother
s. The boys were overly practical and very easy to read. Kiff was not. While she already knew she hated the annoying Undlander, a small part of her longed to see what he looked like beneath his mask.

  "So," Kiff said, finally, "you think it will work?"

  Xandra eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"

  "This whole ‘quest to restore Hope to Traesparin’ thing," he replied. "You think it will work?"

  "Of course."

  "Oh," Kiff said. He looked down at his hands for a moment before turning to leave. "It must be nice to be fearless."

  Kiff left Xandra staring at the tent walls, thinking about how big her destiny really was.

  Her tent felt very small that night, and the stars above it seemed far beyond her reach. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if maybe, just possibly, there was a chance that they might not win.

  On a low hill less than a kallow away from the camp, five beings lay in the grass. They watched as the Undlander left the young girl’s tent and walked over toward the brook.

  A sixth and seventh hunter stood holding their horses at the far side of the knoll. They were Dorokti of the Ginakti clan. This was their land, and no one crossed it freely.

  Their leader, a raven-furred panther Dorokti called Kertyah, motioned the group back. His eyes glowed green in the darkness. He carried a longbow across his back and a curved dagger on his hip. His limbs were lithe, his muscles like thick cords, and he bore a scar that ran from his neck up to what had once been his ear.

  The grass beneath them hardly rustled as they crept down the far side of the hill. Kertyah was the last to follow. After joining the others, he made several quick gestures with his hands. He made sure everyone knew the number of the prey, the amount of blades they carried, and that his team would attack before dawn.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN