by Dave Smeds
“Your daughter's body is sensitive to yolo weed,” Alemar said. “Stop giving her milk, and she will recover.” He rummaged in his pack. “I'll prepare something to help her fever."
* * * *
Alemar tilted the bowl to the little girl's lips, supporting her upper back with his other hand. She sipped his concoction reluctantly, closing her eyes against the bitter aroma, but eventually she finished it. He laid her back down on the sweat-drenched mat.
“Good girl,” he said.
She was near delirious, and did not answer.
“Be sure to give her plenty of liquid. If she's still hot tomorrow, give her another dose of the potion. You're sure you remember how to mix it?” He had thought it best to teach her, in the event the problem recurred in future seasons.
The mother nodded. He was impressed once more by the intelligence behind her young eyes.
“You're the brother of the warrior woman, the hero of Xurosh?” she asked.
“Yes.” He was intrigued. The woman was a T'lil. She should have referred to Elenya as a man. “Why do you ask?"
“Yetem has changed the world,” the woman said, stroking her little daughter's hair. “Perhaps this one will have it better, because a female has become hai-Zyraii."
“She is not called a female."
“The truth is known."
Abruptly the woman reached to her collar, pulled off the small rawhide necklace she wore, and handed it to Alemar. He saw then that it was decorated with a small bit of turquoise. No doubt it was the only thing of value she owned.
“For Yetem?” he asked.
“No, that is for you. For your help. My husband will give you nothing."
“I can't accept it."
She insisted. “It isn't that you healed her—it's that you bothered to try."
He understood. By accepting the gift, he was accepting her worthiness to give it. Though it barely fit, he managed to tug the necklace over his head. It settled inside the gold chain of the amulet.
The mother's smile was cut short by a sudden shudder from her daughter. The girl opened her eyes, wearing the fright of a fever dream, calming when she saw her parent beside her.
“Don't let the Dragon get me,” the little girl begged.
Her mother soothed her. Childlike, she was asleep again within seconds. Alemar, however, had been brought resoundingly alert.
“What did she mean?"
The mother looked embarrassed. “Her grandmother has been scaring her into obedience, saying that the Dragon will come to get her if she is bad, burning her up as he did the people of Elandris."
“What? The Dragon can't—When did you get this news?” Alemar asked urgently.
She seemed surprised at his tone. “Three weeks ago. Why?"
“Never mind,” he said. “Just tell me all you know."
She seemed worried by his sudden agitation. “It is said that the Dragon has grown his wings and taken to the skies. He burns the boats that try to cross the great water, save the ones that belong to him. The cities that oppose him are cut off, and the old king is dead. The people are despairing."
Alemar stood up abruptly, nearly upsetting the awning. “I must find my master,” he said, and left before the woman could respond.
He nearly bumped into a man who had just stepped out of the family's tent. It could only have been the girl's father. “She will be well?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Alemar answered curtly, and strode on toward the guest tent where, sometime before, he had seen his teacher conversing with the clan's Ah-no-ken.
“Good,” the father said as Alemar departed. “She'll be able to carry her load soon."
Gast was alone, taking tea. He nearly spilled his cup, so sudden was Alemar's entrance. “What is it, my son?” the Hab-no-ken asked.
“Have you heard the news from Elandris?"
* * * *
Gast shook his head in wonder as Alemar finished his story, still not quite believing. “It was right that you kept your quest secret,” he said finally. “If you are what you say, your actions may destroy the very magic that keeps Setan sacred. Zyraii would have made sure to be quickly rid of you."
“But you'll take me there?” Alemar asked again.
“Yes,” Gast said slowly, “but as God is my witness, I do it only because you are a healer, not because you are an Elandri prince. I had hoped for a few more months before I took you to Setan."
“I can't delay."
Gast stared down guiltily. “You won't have to. You have been ready for some time now."
“Then—why have you waited?"
The healer sighed. “I have never taken an apprentice before. Since I was young, I have been alone in my travels. It was ... good to have someone with me."
Alemar felt his eyes grow moist. Of all the teachers who had instructed him—from Obo to his grandfather to Lord Dran—Gast had become the nearest and most precious of them. He, too, had hoped to make the apprenticeship last. It bothered him to have to ask the man to commit a sacrilege.
He drew out the amulet of Alemar Dragonslayer. Gast looked at him quizzically.
“My sister has to know."
Alemar regarded the talisman ambivalently. Once he used it, he would have turned his back on the life he had known for the past year. He was not eager to do that.
But a small voice whispered in his ear: "Don't let the Dragon get me."
He lifted the jewel to his forehead, his mind reaching out....
* * *
XXXIX
ELENYA STROLLED ACROSS THE BRIDGE of Xurosh, easing the languor of alcohol with a dose of desert night sky and cool air. The revelry within Xurosh was a soothing buzz. The sentries recognized her and let her go her way. She stopped in the middle of the span. The gorge yawned underneath her, its bottom lost in shadow as Motherworld headed for the horizon. The trade route that caused so much conflict was completely hidden.
The fight was over. A month earlier, the mercenaries had given up the siege. Now, the first caravan of the season had arrived, offering a tribute greater than any given to the Zyraii in several generations. Soon, Lonal could feel safe leaving the maintenance of the fortress to capable, lesser hands and would finally be free to make good on his promise to take Elenya to Setan.
So, in a way, she had double reason to celebrate. Yet here in the quiet, tired from the evening's merrymaking, she was wistful. The months at Xurosh had meant a long, sometimes frustrating vigil, but in another sense it had been an enjoyable interlude. She had a respected place within the community of defenders. It had been easy to know what was expected of her. Here, everyone had been a prisoner, exiled from their homes, united in camaraderie. That would end after tonight.
In the back of her head was an itch. She had felt it inside the fortress an hour before. It was stronger this time, as if the walls had muted it. She almost managed to ignore it, blaming it on the wine, until she felt a stirring from the jewel on her chest. She was aware of lifting the amulet to her forehead.
The signal came—brief, distant, but perfectly clear.
* * * *
She had been gone from Xurosh only a few hours when she heard the sound of a single oeikani and rider rounding the bend. She roused herself from her resting place at the edge of the road and was on her feet as he appeared. The morning sun cast a halo around him, but she had no difficulty recognizing him. She placed herself in his path.
Lonal regarded her stiffly, his veil and cowl in place. When she didn't run, he dismounted and tethered his reins to a stone.
“Why?” he said.
“I'm sorry,” she said. She gestured at the badlands behind her. “My brother has sent for me. I have to go to him."
“You couldn't tell me this?"
“When I find him, I am certain we will go to Setan."
Lonal drew away the coverings from his face. She could still see a small scar on his forehead from the battles of Xurosh. He was still as handsome as ever, but he was no longer the unmarked youth sh
e had met on her arrival in the desert. He held out his right hand. He had another scar there, on his wrist. It matched the one on hers.
“You have come far among the Zyraii,” he said. “Don't lose your honor now. I would have kept my promise, in no more than another few weeks."
“There's no time to waste. Something has happened. I can't risk the wait."
“By law, I am required to stop you."
She nodded. “I know that. Will you?"
“Yes,” he whispered.
She sighed and slid her rapier out of its sheath.
He drew his scimitar.
Elenya's head ached from the previous night's drinking. She hadn't slept all night. Lonal, however, was probably in the same state, and he wasn't as rested. She weighed each factor, one by one, trying to take each advantage and disadvantage into account. Too much thinking. She needed to clear her mind and concentrate on the task of defending herself.
They closed the gap slowly. They had both seen each other's mettle at Xurosh. They circled, just out of range, testing the ground. Elenya tucked back a stray lock of hair. She kept her rapier point out of reach of his weapon, peripherally aware of the roadway underneath her and the hills on either side. Her oeikani nibbled noisily at the feed she had set out for it.
They lunged.
She bit her lip, stifling the pain in her thigh. He jumped back, transferring his scimitar effortlessly into the other hand. A small spot of blood stained the upper arm of his garment.
She should have died. She had left her lower body open. Just as he had exposed his heart.
He lowered his scimitar.
She sheathed her rapier.
“This is pointless,” he said. “I'll give you a day's lead. When you reach the Ahloorm, ride upriver. When a large stream merges from the west, follow it to its source. You will come to Setan. I'll be behind you, with a party of Po-no-pha. They may be able to do what I cannot."
“Lonal?"
“Yes?"
“Thank you."
He met her gaze, pretending to be stern but failing. “I don't know why I put up with so much trouble from you. Bind that wound and get moving. I want to know myself what you've come so far to find."
So do I, she thought as he turned and rode back toward Xurosh.
* * *
XL
“SHE'S RIDING HARD,” GAST SAID.
Alemar and the healer stood on the crest of a foothill overlooking the upper Ahloorm Valley. A single rider had appeared out of the plain on a lathered oeikani. Alemar lifted the amulet out of his collar. The jewel was so bright it flickered visibly even in the sunlight.
An answering glint of emerald came from the rider's chest.
“She's pursued,” Alemar said matter-of-factly, “but she has a good lead."
“It tells you all that?"
All activity from the amulet ceased. The jewel once more looked like a dull green, semiprecious stone of no great rarity. Alemar stuffed it back out of view. "She is telling me that. It never used to be so clear from a distance. Maybe now that we're older, or now that I've been trained as a Hab-no-ken..."
“Why did you stop?"
“It's been a long time, master. It's a bit overwhelming to communicate with her so strongly."
Gast caught the huskiness of his apprentice's voice. Abruptly he said, “I'll wait for you downslope. There's a spring there. We need water."
Alemar nodded, not bothering to watch the healer. He never shifted his sight from his sister's approach. It seemed like no time at all after his teacher's hoofbeats had faded away before he was smelling the dust of her arrival.
They listened to her oeikani wheeze. It was a proud, sleek animal and had travelled near the limit of its endurance. She patted its neck, murmuring gratitude, and flipped back her cowl and dropped the veil. Alemar removed his hat.
“You look good in green,” she said.
“You look good, period.” Maturity had taken the severity from her features. Her breasts were fuller and her hips flared, a belated womanly blossoming that had dissolved the tinge of boyishness she had still possessed two years earlier. Her tan was deep, her hair unbound.
But such ferocity. No Zyraii had ever exuded it as strongly as she did. Perhaps he was overly sensitive to it, by virtue of their twinness, or the amulets, but there was no question that she had become the kind of warrior the desert itself would admire.
He didn't dwell on it. In the same instant, they had rolled out of their saddles and into each other's embrace.
They stayed that way for a long time. Finally Alemar said solemnly, “The Dragon flies."
She stiffened. “Tell me everything."
He told her what he knew. Her lips pursed tighter and tighter as he spoke. “I feared as much, when I felt your summons,” she said.
Alemar became aware of a familiar sensation. “You're hurt,” he said.
“It's only a scratch,” she said. “It's old. I didn't think it showed."
“It didn't. Let's go down to the spring and I'll take a look."
The next day, Elenya removed the poultice and examined the slice along her vastus muscles. In slightly over twenty-four hours, all that remained of the damage was a section of pink tissue and a slight stiffness when she stretched.
“It's amazing,” she said. “It doesn't even look like there will be a scar."
“There won't be,” Alemar said.
“Obo would be proud. He could never prevent scars."
“Obo can still do things I can't. This was easy, because of our attunement."
He glanced up the slope they had been climbing. “Let's see what Gast has found out,” he said.
They had ridden through the night, conversation filled with their lives of the past year, ending always with the topic of the Dragon. They left unsaid their worries that their effort now might be too late.
The final leg of their journey had been over jagged escarpments and grades not meant for travel. It had cost them time, but they agreed that it was worth avoiding being sighted by anyone from Setan. It would have been too easy to have established a guard around the citadel to thwart their objective. They had abandoned their oeikani a few minutes back, near a water hole.
The healer lay on a smooth rock slab at the ridgeline, lifting only cranium and eyes above the horizon. The twins wormed their way up to either side of him and peered over.
A circular valley opened in front of them, totally unlike the desolate landscape to be found everywhere else in the eastern Ahrahikte. Steep hills ringed it on every side, the only easy way in being the narrow defile that carried a small tributary to the Ahloorm. The far wall was almost a sheer cliff, its lower face decorated with carved columns, gargoyles, and geometric designs, vestiges of herculean construction long past.
But the relic astonished them not half as much as the verdant orchards, vineyard, and hayfields. A small lake lay up against the cliff; it emptied via canals into furrows, ditches, and smaller reservoirs. The cultivated land formed a broad horseshoe around the relic, the ground immediately in front of the cliff swept bare. The road from the pass led ostensibly straight to the ruins, but the route showing the most wear veered off to the right, to a cluster of buildings.
The village bustled with activity, people standing in the avenues in conversation, individuals striding from door to door on various missions, boys being instructed by blue-robed Ah-no-ken, maintaining their neat rows and proper posture even out in the indolent shade of date palms. Young acolytes of the Zee-no-ken, Bo-no-ken, or Hab-no-ken could be distinguished by their colors as they engaged in menial tasks such as raking, sweeping, or harvesting dates. A few individuals were working out in the fields. A bent old man was carrying a bundle of scrolls from one building to another. The twins could see occasional tents, but for the most part the structures were substantial, of clay or of stone quarried from nearby slopes—many remarkably fitted with doors or trim of actual wood.
The white garb of the Po-no-pha was absent, nor could a single
woman be seen.
“Setan,” Gast said reverently.
The twins absorbed the view, if for no other reason than the length of time since they had seen so much water in one place. Finally, distractions fell aside, and their glances settled on the citadel once more. At the very center of the cliff, though faint from the centuries, the twins were able to discern a symbol etched into the stone surface: a dragon in its death throes, an arrow jutting from its midsection.
“The emblem of Alemar,” Alemar said. “It is no myth. He built this."
“The mountain is honeycombed with chambers,” Gast said, “but the only way in is there.” He pointed to a portal near the lake. Both the opening and the entire pool were surrounded by tile trim, some of it now cracked and moss-ridden, but obviously set by a master mason.
“I don't see any guards,” Elenya said. Furthermore, there was no door, only an empty frame, thus nothing that could be locked.
“There seldom are any. There is nothing to steal inside. It contains only what you bring."
“What do you mean?"
“You'll see soon enough once you go in. I'll believe that there are physical relics inside only when you bring them out."
Not only was there no guard, but the village stood a good half-mile away. An open pasture took up the center of the valley, the few dozen grazing animals it contained the only obstacles between the twins and their goal.
“Now we wait for sunset,” Alemar said.
* * * *
The doorway led into darkness, an ominous blackness impenetrable to Motherworld's brown glow. They had crossed the valley in silence, hugging the edges of the orchards for cover, and now, at last, Alemar and Elenya could reach out and touch the place Keron had sent them to find. The entire trek had lasted twenty-three months. To be certain it was no phantom, Alemar reached out and brushed one of the tiles with his fingers.
“You are sure?” Gast asked.
“It wouldn't make much sense after all this to turn back now,” Alemar said. “Give us the layout once more in detail."
Gast sighed. “Immediately within is a small antechamber. You should each take a torch from the stack you will find there. Five corridors lead into the mountain. It doesn't matter which one you take. All will soon bring you to stairways. Take only those which go upward. If you continue straight or descend, you will be lost in mazes. In ages past, before the school was founded, men died within them, unable to find their way out.