by Kel Kade
Tieran turned to her. “He did what?”
Celise bobbed her head. “Yes, but he did this with Mage Threll, and we were in the water. It mostly sank, I think. He was saving us with his power. He is not a bad dangerous.” Frisha started to correct her but then decided to let her think what she wanted about Wesson. She seemed very happy, and Frisha only hoped Celise did not suffer when she realized the truth.
Celise was placed with Ilanet, who had moved rooms when Frisha went missing. She offered a slight protest since she wanted to share a room with Wesson. It was decided that the two of them could discuss that once he returned. Tieran turned to Frisha as the door closed. He said, “I just realized that we seem to be collecting princesses.”
Frisha laughed. “Royals, in general.”
He chuckled and then said, “Perhaps you would join me after you are rested? We have much to discuss.”
“Of course.”
Upon arriving at Fort Ulep, Rezkin’s entourage was met with a mixture of forced deference and poorly concealed hostility. The ten stone men had been moved to the center of the village that had grown around the fort. They had been arranged in their original circle with a stone pillar at the center. Their names and ranks had been engraved on the pillar, and a garden of red solanias, perpetually blooming vimaral flowers, had been planted at their feet.
Rezkin stepped up next to Wesson who was staring disconsolately at the display. He said, “They may yet wake.”
Wesson did not take his eyes from them. “I have never known you to engender false hope.”
“The spell was experimental. We do not know its long-term effects. Therefore, hope and condemnation are equally valid. One of them, however, is counterproductive.”
Wesson drew his eyes from the memorial to look at Rezkin. “You do not think I should be held responsible for this?”
Rezkin tilted his head. “You are responsible for this, but that does not make you guilty. If you feel remuneration is necessary, then ensure this does not happen again by helping to defeat the real enemy.”
Wesson said, “Caydean was not responsible for this, so what enemy am I to fight?”
Rezkin looked to the memorial. “The face was different, but the enemy was the same. Hate. It is a senseless emotion that induces strife wherever it persists.”
“How am I supposed to fight hate?”
Rezkin looked back to him. “Defeat all those who wield it.”
“Then, are we not the same as them?”
Rezkin said, “I do not hate my enemies. I merely recognize the need for them to be silenced in whatever manner is fitting.”
He gathered his reins and mounted one of the Ferélli rockhorses they had brought with them. The rockhorses were sturdy beasts well suited for the rugged desert terrain of Ferélle. Unlike the Gendishen reds, they were not particularly fast, but they were hearty. Wesson followed, mounting his own mare, and they rejoined the cavalcade that was waiting for them on the road that led east to Drovsk. Many of the townsfolk and soldiers gathered to watch the procession in silence, their thoughts expressed by their heated glares.
The commander at Fort Ulep had assigned a unit to escort them, which contained four purifiers. The eclectic party of Ashaiians, Ferélli, Leréshis, and Gendishen traveled east. The one group that was absent was the mages with the exception of Wesson. While he had proven himself capable of fending off the purifiers, he was not sure he could do the same for anyone else. There was also the high probability that Privoth would gather a larger force to attack him this time. The Gendishen with whom they traveled continued to blame Rezkin and Wesson for the fate of their comrades, despite the fact that, since their last visit, authorities had received more reports of drauglics attacking in small numbers.
By day, the groups spread out to keep an eye on each other, but at night the camp was strongly segregated by nationality. Rezkin sat by the fire surrounded by an assortment of guards. Almost everyone was a potential threat, particularly Yserria’s Leréshis, since Erisial had upset her entire culture by marrying him, and the only way to get rid of Erisial was to kill him first. He was surveying the group when something caught his attention. For the briefest moment, it appeared that tiny people danced within the fire. He blinked, and they were gone.
While the brilliant colors associated with Bilior’s fruit had disappeared, Rezkin still felt energized. He was becoming restless from lack of activity after sitting in the saddle for days on end, so he decided to go exploring. His first challenge was to disappear from a camp in which it was the duty of nearly every pair of eyes to remain on him. He decided he should probably tell someone that he was going, or the factions would start a war between them when they realized he had disappeared. He looked around to decide whom he should tell that would not cause them to follow. He settled on Malcius. He made the excuse that he needed to speak with Malcius in private about his union with Yserria but instead explained he was going for a stroll and would return by dawn. Then, to Malcius’s dismay, he slipped away.
Rezkin slithered through the tall grasses of the vast Gendishen plain toward a copse of trees in the distance. They appeared as a dark stain in the otherwise pale landscape, but he was inclined to explore them, either through some inexplicable pull or because they were the only item of any interest in the area. The trees along the perimeter looked young, but as he walked farther into the forest, they grew old and craggy, their gnarled branches bent and twisted in unusual ways. The canopy had grown thick, blocking sight of the stars and moon, but the wooded depths were lit by a soft blue glow from an unknown light source that seemed to emanate from everywhere. The walk through the copse that should have consumed no more than fifteen minutes had claimed hours of his time. Just as Rezkin thought to turn around, he spied a break in the trees. Within the clearing was a massive boulder as large as a two-story inn. A clear pool rested at its base, fed by a trickle of spring water that flowed from a fissure in the floor of the opening to a cave. Shadows cast by the flickering light of fire flitted across the walls of the cave.
Rezkin crept closer, listening for sounds of the cave’s occupants. The hollow gale of air passing through chambers began to produce a melodic tune, a familiar one. He stepped lightly along the watery path into the cave. It branched in several directions, but the other paths were dry, so he followed the water to its source. When he arrived, he saw only a small puddle in the middle of an empty chamber, and he realized a detail he had been missing. The water was flowing into the cave, into the puddle that began to rise in a thin stream beyond the level of the stone in which it sat.
The shadows shifted, and Rezkin noticed that the light source had moved. He turned to find two flames the size of his palm burning over a pile of leaves and sticks on a rock ledge. The flames merged into one and then split again. They morphed into little figures that danced around each other as if putting on a show. Eventually, six smaller flames erupted from the debris. The tiny flames created a ring around the larger two, dancing and spinning to the music of the hollow melody. The ground began to shake, a massive rumble that caused rocks to fall from the ceiling and walls. Rezkin was about to dart for the exit when a stone monster stepped out of the wall beside it. A large serpent slipped into the room through the space between the stone monster’s feet. As it coiled in the center beside the somewhat man-shaped pillar of water, it began to morph into a tree-like creature he recognized.
Bilior blinked up at him from where he crouched low on the ground, but he said nothing. Rezkin glanced at the other beings, the elementals he assumed were Ahn’an.
“Why have you brought me here?”
Bilior tilted his head to look at him sideways. “The paths be open, among them you walk. We listen.”
“I do not understand.”
Rezkin glanced away as a rumble emanated from the stone monster, followed by the sound of bellows as the wind whipped through the fire. When he looked back, Malcius was staring at him.
“What is this?” Rezkin said in alarm.
Malcius ran a hand down his own face and said, “This aura is better suited for discussion. You do not always understand me.” He glanced at the stone monster and shrugged. “You do not understand them at all, so I suppose I should be content with what I have.”
“You sound like him,” said Rezkin.
“We had best make this quick. His aura is more difficult to hold since he does not possess the power. Someone opened the pathways. You stumbled onto one when you left the human camp. We guided you here so that you would not get lost.”
Rezkin glanced around the cave. “I am not in my realm?”
Malcius pursed his lips. “You are in a pocket of your realm, one only those with great power can access. The pathways lead to many realms and many such pockets. He who opened them is inexperienced and dangerous. You are not the only one who may stumble onto a path.”
“You mean other people could be getting trapped in these realms?”
Malcius shook his head. “No. They are not open to all. You must possess the right power to travel the pathways. But, other things may pass between worlds. What is more concerning is that we cannot sense the power used to open them.”
“What does that mean?”
“We are Ahn’an, composed of Mikayal and Rheina. We cannot sense the power of Nihko.”
“So, someone wielding the power of Nihko opened them? You mean a demon.”
“Most likely, but the Daem’Ahn cannot leave their realm alone. They must be invited into this one by a host. This one is close.”
“A possession. How can we determine who is possessed?”
“The Ahn’tep are composed of all three of the Ahn. You, the humans and other creatures of this realm, are Ahn’tep. They have this power, some more than others.”
“The Sen,” said Rezkin.
Malcius tilted his head. “The Blessed of Nihko have more than most.”
“Not all humans are Sen, though. Can others sense the demons? The mages, perhaps?”
Malcius shrugged. “Theoretically, yes. We do not know human spells. We cannot help you with this.” He glanced at the others. “It is the reason we made the deal. You are supposed to provide the army.”
“These are the other Ancients?” said Rezkin, glancing at the others who watched him intently. Malcius nodded toward each of them. “Hvelia,” he said of the debris strewn wind. “Uspiul—” indicating the humanoid figure made of infinitely flowing water. “Liti and Itli, you have met,” he said of the little fire dancers Rezkin had first seen inside a Caellian crystal. “The large one is Goragana,” Malcius said, looking toward the towering rock giant.
Rezkin bowed to each of them. “I am honored.” He turned back to Bilior. “I have amassed the armies of two kingdoms, but if the threat is as great as you believe, it will not be enough.”
“They come,” Malcius said before his form began to melt. “Our deal is almost complete. We wait. Call should you need the power”—Bilior crouched and bobbed up and down—“power of life, earth, wind, and fire. In thoughts and senses, a focused sign.”
Goragana groaned as he stepped away from the entrance. Rezkin looked at the Ancients one more time before stepping back into the night. When he emerged, he was standing at the edge of his camp exactly where he had left.
Malcius turned to him. “This is not fair, Rez. You know the others will blame me when they cannot find you, and I must tell them that you left.”
Rezkin glanced at the campsite where everything appeared calm. “No one noticed my absence?”
“Oh no, you came up with a good enough excuse. Using my predicament with Yserria was a low blow.” He huffed. “How long do you intend to be gone?”
“What are you talking about? I have just returned.”
“You jest? Perhaps you should be the fool and not the emperor.”
Rezkin tilted his head to peer at the sky. It appeared that no time had passed since he left the camp. He said, “Is that how you speak to an emperor? I think you do not take my position seriously.”
Malcius shook his head. “Probably more than you. You rack up titles and act like it is just another day. I think you would rather I speak to you honestly than stand on formality”
Rezkin grinned at him. “You are beginning to understand. Married life is having a profound effect on you.” Rezkin strolled back into the camp with Malcius on his heels.
“That is not funny, Rez. You, the jester. What has gotten in to you?”
“Outworlders often jest,” he said. “I believe it is a way to form personal bonds. If you truly do not appreciate it, I will cease the attempt.”
Malcius glanced at him and sighed. “No, it is better than being serious all the time. You are an emperor. Someone with such great power should have a sense of humor.”
Rezkin tilted his head. “Then, I shall continue my pursuit of the art.” He turned toward his tent as he said, “Perhaps you should, too.”
Malcius’s head jerked toward Rezkin. “Wha—Hey!”
Rezkin entered his tent then slipped out the gap in the back. Farson was standing there with a scowl. “What?”
“You disappeared.”
“You followed us.”
“Yes,” said Farson. “I am not an idiot. You have no interest in Malcius’s marital status. Where did you go?”
“To the edge of camp. I was with Malcius.”
Farson shook his head. “I mean when you disappeared.”
Rezkin looked at him curiously. Had Farson somehow detected his passage? He said, “What are you talking about?”
“You told Malcius you were going to leave. Malcius turned around to throw a tantrum, and you started walking through the field. Then, you vanished—completely vanished. Next thing I know, you are standing right in front of Malcius again. Where did you go, and how did you get there?”
“You are mistaken. It was a trick of the light. Your eyes were confused by the dark.”
“Does this have to do with the cat?”
“The cat?”
“Yes, the cat that shows up before a demon attack.”
Rezkin paused to consider. He decided that it was probably best to alert someone else to the danger. “Perhaps. I have reason to believe one or more demons or otherworldly creatures could be near.”
“I will not ask why you know that since you are obviously averse to sharing. How do we know who the demon is?”
“I do not know, yet. It would be best to discuss it with Journeyman Wesson.”
“What if he is the demon?”
“Then, it would probably be a moot point, considering his level of power. Keep your eyes open for suspicious activity.”
Farson looked at him with incredulity. “Have you seen our convoy?”
Chapter 20
Tam pulled at the long, green stalk, but when it would not budge, he began digging the root out of the soil with his fingers. He brushed the dirt from it as best he could and then picked up a rock and began smashing and grinding it into another rock. He worked quickly as he knew they were out of time. He grabbed the stack of assorted leaves he had gathered and crumbled them into the root paste.
“I should boil this,” he said, “but we don’t have time, or water, or a fire.”
“You think that will work? Where did you learn it?” said Uthey.
Tam glanced over his shoulder, pausing to listen for danger. Hearing nothing suspicious, he went back to grinding. Once everything was mixed together, he scooped up a glob and smeared it into the bite wound on Uthey’s arm. Then, he moved on to the man’s leg. Finally, he said, “From a master healer of the mundane.”
Uthey chuckled. “Was he a king, too?”
“The same. I mean, he wasn’t king at the time. He was just a traveler we met in a tavern. I didn’t think I was paying attention when he talked about plants, but”—he pointed to his head—“it’s this hole. I’m remembering things that happened long ago as if they happened yesterday.”
“Hmm, a remedy invented by a tumor. This stuff’ll probably
kill me.”
Tam felt the man’s fevered skin. “You’ll die anyway.”
“Good to know,” said Uthey.
When he was done applying the paste, Tam scraped the remainder onto a large leaf and folded it over to fit in his pocket. Then, he smeared the rock with fresh deer dung, turned it over, and buried it.
“Why did you do that?”
“To throw them off if they have dogs. They’ll track the scent.”
“Good thinking, but I don’t think anyone’s coming after us. It’s been … I don’t know … days, weeks? Probably most of them were killed in the attack. The rest will have sought help or gone to the quarry.”
“Someone is coming. Can’t you feel it?” said Tam. His gaze darted about then he looked back at Uthey with urgency. “It’s in the wind. It sounds different.”
“You’re bleeding again,” said Uthey.
Tam absently wiped his nose and then realized he had used the hand smeared in dung. He glanced up again. The wind had changed. It hummed in synchrony with the pounding in his head. “We have to go,” he said.
He helped Uthey to his feet, and they stumbled through the forest along the riverbank. It was well past midday when they came to a low point where the bank disappeared, and they trudged across a sandbar to the river’s edge. Tam lagged behind to the extent their chain would allow to cover their tracks, and Uthey was in no condition to argue. They drank and bathed, and then Tam reapplied the paste to Uthey’s wounds.
The former mercenary said, “I think I’m feeling a bit better. The water helps.”
Opening another pouch made of leaves, Tam examined the last of the previous day’s berry harvest. He handed half of them to Uthey then unceremoniously shoved the other half into his mouth.
Uthey said, “This might be our last meal. We should savor them.”
Tam watched the river. Did it look normal? He said, “I don’t plan on dying.”
Uthey tugged at the collar shackle. “Well, when I die, you can cut off my head.”
“You’re not dying, either,” said Tam. “Besides, I no longer have a sword with which to remove your head.”