There were no Gowrain that night and at first light of dawn, the party packed up their camp, lifted the unmoving form of the Seer into the cart and made their way into the foothills of these new mountains.
At first, it was an easy go. Foothills are quite negotiable, and there seemed to be a wide flattened trail that carried on through for quite a distance. Obviously, Agoyian knew it well, so it was likely well-traveled by many a caravan, but Kirin was forced to wonder how long it would take before the mountains themselves made it difficult to pull a wheeled cart behind a horse. They were not big mountains, but they were mountains nonetheless. They would then be forced to rethink their strategy. He was not looking forward to that.
It came sooner than he’d hoped, for by midday the trail had narrowed and grown steep in places, and the cart was becoming dangerously unstable. Kirin himself called a halt to their travels, and he pulled his horse up alongside the Major.
“This will not do,” she growled. “The barrels are tipping first one way, then the next. And the Seer is going to slide out if this path gets any steeper.”
“I know. I will take him on alMassay.”
“I can take him –“
“No,” he cut her off. “’Massay is wider of girth and shoulder, and stronger in the back. He can carry us both. Your desert horse is too fine-boned for such a load.”
The muscles in her jaw rippled but she nodded at his decision. He swiveled in his saddle to their guide, who was glancing around the canyons for any sign of danger.
“Sidi, I will need your help with the water barrels. Fashion a way to strap them to one of the pack horses.”
“We abandoning the cart, then?”
“I can see no other alternative.”
“Fair enough.” And the man sprang from his Mongolian horse and trudged over towards them, and together, they emptied the cart of all its valuables, feline and otherwise, and left it on the crooked side of a narrow mountain path, somewhere in some not-so-big mountains.
***
The Gowrain did not come the second night, either, and not surprisingly, neither did Solomon. The Seer’s breathing had grown ragged and labored, and the pauses in between breaths were growing longer. Kirin was not sure he would make it through this next night. That would be bad, for more than one reason.
The star was no longer a star, but rather a set of static fireworks, a burst of color and light, sizzling and streaking across the night sky. The five branches now were so far apart that they looked like they were touching down in areas on five different points on the horizon. It seemed that something was ending, and that made him feel very, very heavy.
Again, in circles of fire powder and flame, they sat and waited out the long night. Agoyian told a story in the firelight, the newest tale of Kaidan and his conquest of the virgin peak, Shagar’mathah, tallest, proudest and most terrible of all the Great Mountains, devourer of many a feline explorer. How Kaidan had gone first to the ocean in the company of tigers, wrestled a cat-eating shark, found a pearl, and on the way back, climbed Shagar’mathah, leaving all his tigers at the base camp far below and forging up on his own, leaving his cloak on her mount as a wedding present. Kirin shook his head, dropped it in his hands. Agoyian leaned forward, sharp eyes glittering.
“Not a fan of Kaidan, Cap?”
Kirin ran a hand across his face, forced a smile. “Kaidan is a myth, no more. Silly stories told to entertain kittens.”
“That a shark’s tooth you wear, Cap?”
“A gift from my brother.”
“Kerris went to the ocean,” sighed Fallon, hugging her knees and staring into the fire.
“Kerris has gone many places, sidala. Part of being an Imperial guide.”
“Who brokered peace with the Chi’Chen. then?” Agoyian again, insistent.
“Many cats over many years.”
“Kerris speaks Chi’Chen,” sighed Fallon.
“As I said, part of being an Imperial guide.”
“You don’t believe he was thrown in a pit for many months, then?”
“No one could survive in a pit for many months.”
“Kerris hates pits,” sighed Fallon.
“And that it was only his good nature and constant singing that made them pull him out? He made allies out of enemies, he did.”
“Kerris loves to sing,” sighed Fallon.
“There is also a story that has Kaidan roping and riding a Great Lung all the way up to the moon. Would you believe that also?”
“Well… maybe not the moon bit,” muttered the jaguar, but his eyes were still dancing.
“Kerris hauled up a baby behemoth once, remember? And he was picked up by the mommy behemoth,” said Fallon, “He told us, in the cave of the Ancestors—“
“Captain…?” It was Ursa, and there was something in her voice that he had never heard before. He rose to his feet and moved over to where she was sitting. The Seer did not look good. “He is going to die tonight.”
“Yes.”
She nodded and in the moon’s light, he thought he saw tears. He touched her shoulder, not knowing what else to do. It all seemed wrong, somehow, just like in Sha’Hadin, when nothing belonged, nothing they did was right. He set his jaw and sat down beside her to wait.
The first branch of the star had almost reached the northern horizon, so far it was from the others, and as they watched, they saw it flare and then, quite abruptly disappear. The Seer let out a strangled cry, not quite gasp, not quite moan, and it pained Kirin to hear it. Death was never pleasant, no matter how it came.
Another hour later, the second branch sputtered, flared and disappeared over the west. No sound this time from the Seer, and an hour later, the third branch disappeared, just winked out like the snuffing out of a candle. Only two remained.
Agoyian took the second watch from the Major, as she was not moving for anyone, and when the fourth branch disappeared over the southern horizon, she became like a stone, a silver stone with no movement whatsoever.
Finally, with all eyes on it, the fifth and final branch of the star, Max the metal dragon, flared like a dying torch, then went out, leaving them all in moonlight and darkness. The Seer released a long, shuddering breath.
There was silence on these not-so-big mountains.
And he breathed in again, and then out.
Breathed, in and out.
In and out.
He yawned, stretched, blinked his eyes open. Propped himself up on his elbows. Looked around at all the staring faces.
“Is there any of that sakeh left? I am terribly thirsty…”
And that was that, the final epitaph of Max, the metal dragon, who had lived above the Upper Kingdom – above all the Kingdoms actually – for more years than the Kingdoms themselves had seen. And of course, there was no sign of Solomon either.
***
Dawn over mountains is always a breathtaking sight.
The golden sun sends her rays first to the peaks, which shine like tips of brightly polished daggers. Then the edges of the mountains glow with color, sometimes pink, sometimes purple, sometimes a striking orange. That morning the color was red, and the sky began to streak with crimson and burgundy and wine. Colors of warmth and companionship and blood.
That morning, the Gowrain attacked.
They had sent the falcon, Path, on ahead of them with a message for the Magistrate of Sharan’yurthah, asking him to prepare for their arrival and to send a company out into the desert to meet them with supplies. Much of their water had been used on the Seer, and he had been most displeased to find his many layers of dark linens damp and now full of sand. (Cats are never good with water at the best of times, even when it is used in the saving of one’s life. Sand and water is worse, for it is doubly annoying. It is a peculiar thing but cats are after all, a peculiar people.) They had been very deliberate in saying nothing as he pulled layer after layer of desert wear over the sleeveless tunic, and they had also made it a point not to look at him, which in an odd way, says more t
han words in circumstances such as these. To his credit, he did not make a point of it, and said nothing himself on the matter. But perhaps what is more, he did not look at any of them either.
Peculiar.
So as they mounted up to head out into the spectacular light of dawn, a light and merry mood fell upon them. They were in Hirak now. Only one more day from mountain to foothill, and then two at most to the border town of Sharan’yurthah. Then and only then, after many long months of riding, would the real adventure begin.
Kirin could hear snatches of conversation.
“So do you believe in Kaidan, Sherah?” asked the Scholar, who seemed to have abandoned her newfound hatred for her Captain in favor of her old happy and easy-going nature. The Captain thought it was a most welcome thing.
Sherah, riding immediately behind her, agreed. “Oh yes. He is from Agara’tha.”
“Oh. Kaidan is an Alchemist?”
“Of course.”
Kirin shook his head, ears swiveling to pick up yet another scrap of conversation.
“It was a very long dream.”
“Pah. Theatrics.”
“Sometimes. But this dream was terrible. I wished desperately to awaken, but could not.”
“How sad. Maybe I shall weep for you next time you almost die.”
Kirin grinned. The Major’s tone was anything but sad.
“Thank you, Major. As always, I’m touched.”
“So what did you dream about, idiot?”
“Bears.”
He reined in alMassay, raised a hand to call a halt to the journey, and jogged over to the bickering pair.
“Bears, sidi? Did I hear you say you were dreaming about bears?”
Agoyian had heard as well and pulled his tough little horse alongside.
Sireth looked from one to the other. “Indeed. I was afraid that when I woke, you would all be dead. Well, not all…”
Kirin could not stop the lash of his tail. “Tell me.”
“It was simply a dream, Captain. Not a vision. They have a different sense.”
“Tell me, sidi. If you please.” It was not a request.
“Ah. Very well. They attacked at dawn, three of them, two browns and a black. They killed our guide here, both Wing and Luke, and left poor Oded with only one arm…”
Oded, at the head of the caravan, swallowed and looked around nervously.
Kirin ground his molars for several heartbeats. “It was simply a dream, you say.”
Now the Seer swallowed. “I can meditate now, if you’d like. Try to find the thread and follow it…”
“Do.” He swung his horse toward the guide. “They have a heavy scent, do they not?”
“Yeah. Like decaying meat. You can’t miss it.”
And for several heartbeats more, they all sat on their horses, breathing deeply, sifting the early morning breeze for the stench of Gowrain, but there was nothing.
“They always have this scent? Always?”
“Well, I’ve only encountered them twice, but from all the stories –“
“Stories? Stories?! Like ‘Kaidan riding his Great Lung to the moon’ stories?”
Lions are not generally known for their patience. Lions are not generally known for their generosity.What they are generally known for is their sense of good form. Lion soldiers even so, with the Bushido teaching them control of the tongue and the preservation of honor. So when these words left the Captain’s mouth, he cursed them for he knew what he had done and that all the responsibility for what was to happen would fall on his shoulders, and his alone.
For the sharp eyes of the jaguar, Rhan Agoyian, flashed at the insult and he wheeled his small horse back onto the path. It was then that the first bear rose from behind a mound of mountain rock, pulling itself to its full height of nearly two men. It bellowed, swinging a great, clawed hand across the head of the Mongolian horse, sending it careening into the rocks beside and sending the jaguar tumbling off and onto the path at its shaggy feet.
The bear was upon him in an instant.
The leopard, Oded, drew his long sword and charged at the beast, just as a second bear lumbered onto the path from behind. Luke and Wing wheeled their mounts, swords drawn and likewise charged, but at that moment, something blocked out the first rays of morning and a massive shape towered on the bluffs high above them, thick shaggy arms holding something of considerable weight within its grasp.
A rock the size of a small horse plummeted down, striking Wing in the head and shoulders and knocking him off his staggering mount. There was little left of him to hit the ground. The Major’s silver shirh’khins sliced the air, thudding into the deep shaggy pelt of the creature. It roared in pain, but bent to find another rock even as she began to scale the cliff to meet him.
With swords in both hands, Kirin leapt from alMassay’s back and ran headlong toward the first bear. The desert horses squealed and scattered, only adding to the chaos, and it was all the three civilians could do to stay on their horses, although Fallon was not convinced that being on horseback was the safest place at the moment. One slip of a hoof would mean a very long and possibly deadly fall for both horse and rider.
Two swords against two massive clawed hands was the fight at the rear, but Luke was no match for the sheer size and strength of the creature and he was sent spinning into the rock face, blood splaying against the stone. Fallon whirled upon the Alchemist.
“Sherah! Fire powder!”
The Alchemist glared at her, clearly not understanding.
“Like the rats at Roar’pundih!”
Another Broken Road. The cheetah threw a long look toward the fight ahead, where the Captain and one leopard were furiously battling, and to the fight behind and the great beast now lumbering towards them, knocking horse after horse to the ground with its fists. With a sudden resolve, she snatched a pouch from across the back of her mare, and sprang from her saddle, and taking a long deep breath, she began to stalk toward the rear attacker, chanting the entire time in strange exotic keys.
High above them, Ursa was engaged in a dance, the bear swinging, she evading and striking, and its black pelt was crisscrossed with red.
Oded’s long sword found home, spearing the great wide open mouth right through to the back of the throat and beyond. It yanked its massive head back, taking the leopard with it but allowing the Captain the opportunity to send his own katanah home through the heart, the kodai’chi a perfect counterpoint into its dense belly. His desert linens were sprayed with red.
The second bear advanced on the Alchemist, as she swayed and moved, tossing fistful after fistful of the black powder first into the air at its feet, legs and torso, then liberally high over its head and neck and shoulders. It cursed her in the rough guttural tongue they call a language, its hot rancid breath filling her nose with the smell of death and she felt rather than saw the great paw arcing its way toward her. She dropped to one knee, clapped her palms together over her head and a burst of brilliant light flashed just as the blow hit home.
The bear erupted into flame, howling and lumbering backwards, away from the horses, and to their credit, both the Seer and Scholar rushed it, pushing it by force off the edge of the path and tumbling head over feet down the embankment to the canyon below.
“Ursa!” shouted the Captain, and purely by instinct she ducked, throwing herself quite vulnerably to the ground. But she knew her Captain, and he had grabbed the hilt of his sword and sent it spinning, blade over hilt, upwards and directly into the throat of the great beast. She scrambled to her feet, leapt onto its staggering form and began to saw.
It was over in a heartbeat, but the devastation was complete. Oded knelt clutching his arm, the end of it a bloody stump, bitten off in the jaws of his attacker. Wing was dead, head and shoulders unseen under the huge rock. Luke was slumped at the base of the bluff and so was Sherah, blood seeping down both their scalps and Rhan Agoyian was writhing on the path, trying desperately to hold on to the slippery pinkness of his middle.
> Rarely had Kirin felt so helpless as he surveyed the scene. Blood everywhere, and horses down too. Desert horses, Imperial horses, Mongolian horses. Only one foal left. His little friend, bleating for its dead mother. He felt the rage building inside, swallowed it back down, flung a hand out toward the Seer and Scholar.
“See to the leopard and the Alchemist. We need to leave at once.”
Both Seer and Scholar stared at him, but he turned his back to them and took one shaky step forward. Sometimes the shortest journeys, as well as the longest, began with that same single step. He continued on, stopping by Oded who was cradling his severed arm, and laid a hand on what was left, just above the elbow.
“I will cut this here,” he told his soldier. “My blade is sharp. It will heal well.”
Oded nodded, but he had lost so much blood that Kirin wasn’t certain he understood. Ursa was scrambling down the bluff, and he waited for her to join him before he moved over to their guide. He looked away for just a moment, catching Ursa’s knowing gaze. She handed him back his long sword. He slipped it in its sheath.
“Lay still, sidi. Too much movement is not good.”
The sharp green eyes met his. There was pain and shock, and considerable fear. He grasped at Kirin’s arm, breaths swift and shallow. “My wife…you promise…my sons…”
“Yes, sidi. I promise.”
There was nothing more to say. Kirin pulled the shortest of the short blades, the tanto, a blade he rarely remembered using during his career, often forgot he had, from its home in his boot, pressed its tip flat against the ribs.
“Give me your hand, sidi.”
The half-gloved hand, now more red than tawny, fumbled but managed to find a grip on the hilt. The Captain folded his own hand over top.
“You have served your Empress well. She will know of your life. And of your death.”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 51