If she is here to take me to her priests, why does she not? Why help me?
The fact that she had saved his life did not escape him. Still, she made him uneasy. “Well, Arderi, whoever sent you, I am not going to give them another chance. I am leaving this city.”
If this statement bothered Elith, she did not show it. She looked as if she had expected that answer and was ready to go. His brother, however, looked agitated, as if all the confidence he had shown earlier had evaporated. “Arderi, I am not asking you to go with me.” The sudden realization that he had no idea of how to get where he needed to go struck him, and he sat down hard on the crate once more. “Not that I have any idea how I am to find the place I am seeking.”
Arderi sat next to him and remained silent for a long time. Finally, he put his arm over Alant’s shoulders. “Nix. You are in trouble. Where you go, I go.” Rocking him gently, Arderi grinned. “The Cor Brothers! Just like you said.”
Despite himself, Alant laughed. “Not half an aurn gone you were bent on killing me. Now you want to help me?”
“Nix. Back then I was here to kill the Mah’Sukai.” He winked the way he did when he was younger—an over-exaggerated closing of one eye. “Now, I am here to save my older brother from a horrible death.”
“You always did think you were bigger than you actually are.” Stretching a kink from his leg, he looked up at Elith. “I suppose you are staying with me as well?”
“Her path lies with you. She sees this now.” Her answer did nothing to make him feel better.
Still, at least I am not alone anymore.
Snapping his fingers, he jumped to his feet. “Sarlimac! He told me that a long time ago some Shapers mounted an expedition. Mayhaps he knows how I can find Sar’Xanthia! Or, at the least, get me a map.”
“Sar’Xanthia? The lost city?” Arderi’s brow knitted.
The fact that his brother even knew the city’s name made Alant stare at him with his mouth open. “You have heard of it?”
Arderi stood, his usual mischievous grin in full regalia. “Oh, aye. Who has not heard of the fabled ancient lost city of Sar’Xanthia with all its wondrous treasures?”
“She has not.”
Both brothers turned and stared at the gray-skinned girl. With a glance at each other, they shook their heads and chuckled in unison. “Why would you need to go there, Alant? I have heard it is not the safest of places. Only fools search for it. None that I know of have returned.”
“There is someone there who can answer my questions.” Waving a hand at both the others, he made a sarcastic face. “And now, with so many people after me for one reason or another, I fear if I do not find those answers, I will not live much longer.”
Pressing his lips tight, Arderi tapped his foot. “So, what you are saying is that leagues away in an old abandoned city that almost no one has ever heard of…” Glancing at Elith, he shook his head again. “…there just happens to be someone waiting for you to drop in? And then, once you do, they will explain what happened to you on some island thousands of leagues from that same lost city?”
Alant reached up and scratched the top of his head. “Well, when you say it like that it just sounds dumb. Still, aye. That is what I am saying.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Turning, Arderi headed out of the alleyway.
Not sure if he should follow, Alant took a step after him, then stopped. “Wait! Where are you going?”
Pausing, his brother grinned over his shoulder. “I am going to gather us some horses and the supplies we will need for our trip, of course.”
“Our trip? I do not even know to where we are going.”
Looking over his shoulder, Arderi continued toward the main street. “Aye, brother. Yet, I do. I will meet you both on the morrow at your inn. The Fisherman’s Dock in the Warehouse District, if I recall.” And as fast as that, his brother disappeared around the corner.
The silence that enveloped the alleyway emphasized that Alant now stood alone with a strange, gray-skinned, cat-eyed girl. Shifting his feet, he looked over at her. “So…Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yes.” Alant felt a wave of anxiety melt away. “She will stay with the Mah’Sukai.”
His anxiety returned with interest. “Um…” He could think of nothing to say that would change her mind and not make him look the fool. After a few moments, he shrugged his shoulders. “I am renting a very small room. Yet, you are welcome to share it with me.”
Something caught her eye and she walked to the far side of the alley. Reaching up, she wrenched a black knife from the wall and slid it into a sheath on her shoulder. “She is sure it will suffice.” Pulling her hood up so it covered her face—even standing directly in front of him, he did not know if he would have been able to see her had he not known she was there—she raised an arm. “She is ready.”
Still wracking his brains to discover a reason for her not to stay with him, Alant walked out of the alley. Since he had never left the Warehouse District, it only took a moment to gain his bearings and figure out where he was in relation to the inn. Less than a quarter aurn walk brought them to the front door of the Fisherman’s Dock.
No one paid the two any mind when they entered and headed up the rickety stairs to the second floor. Entering his room, he moved to the side of the tiny room to allow her entry. The room was little more than a closet. Narrow enough that he could touch both walls at the same time, and just long enough for one person to lie down on the lumpy pallet that ran the length of one wall. A small window let in light from the street lamps out front.
With nowhere else to sit, Alant laid down on the pallet. “Like I said, there is not much room here. I guess we could take turns sleeping.”
Sliding to the floor, Elith rested her back against the door. “She requires little sleep. She is content to stay on guard while the Mah’Sukai sleeps.” Pulling her strange stick from its pouch behind her, the tip narrowed to a sharp point and she began cleaning underneath her fingernails. The action was far from comforting.
Still, if she wished me dead, she could have let my brother handle that back in the alley.
Pulling his blankets up around his neck, he tried to ignore the fact that she sat less than a pace from him. For a long time he would open one eye and look at her. Each time he did, he saw the light from outside his tiny window reflected in her silver slit eyes.
Over an aurn passed before sleep finally took him. It became a restless sleep, plagued with visions of either his brother intent on killing him, or the strange gray-skinned girl stuffing him into a sack. Neither gave him enough peace to rest.
Looking out over the endless grasslands, Klain experienced a strange, primeval pull. For the first time in his miserable existence, he looked out over what should have been his home. Low hills rolled off in each direction, the panoramic view broken only by the occasional squat, gnarled tree. The knee-high grass, a golden brown color—almost a perfect match to the color of his fur—bent in the constant breeze that blew from the west. A hint of salt, not as strong as when they still traveled the Diamond Point-Mocley road that followed the banks of the Glonlore Bay, clung to the air. Three days out of Mocley the expedition had turned inland, traveling over virgin ground.
“Timms says this land is populated by a nomadic tribe that will kill anyone they find.” Charver Vimith, his long blond hair blowing into his face, looked down from his broad-chested mount at Klain.
Due to the slow speed of the wagons, Klain remained upright, walking on his hindpaws next to the boy. “Did he, now?”
“Aye. The Asgarthians. They are said to breed the best horses, as well.”
The boy’s enthusiasm gave Klain an inner joy he had never known. It surprised him that he held such affinity for Charver, yet he could not deny the feelings. “If they kill all they meet, how does anyone know they breed the best horses?”
Remov
ing his foot from its stirrup, Charver nudged Klain on his shoulder. “Because they sell them at market at the end of each autumn. My father has purchased a few, though they are mostly used in the races at the Coliseum.”
The boy had begged Klain to take him to the horse races that were held each moon. The thought of attending the Coliseum as a spectator, however, held little appeal for Klain. The wagon in front of them came to a stop, forcing his young charge to pull hard on his mount’s reins to avoid smashing into the back of it. Stepping out to the side, Klain saw that all the wagons in front of them were stopped, and looking over his shoulder, that those behind were being waved to a halt as well. “Seems we have reached a spot your father feels will make a good campsite for the eve.”
Slipping from his horse, the boy draped his reins over a large hook on the back of the wagon. “Great! Let us go and explore!” With that, he ran out into the tall grass.
Looking back at the horse who stared at him with wild, wide eyes full of fear, Klain shook his head. “The boy may have ridden you all day. I, however, have walked and am tired.” When the horse did not respond, he turned and followed his charge out into the sea of brown grass.
The wagon train had halted in a relatively low indention in the land and it did not take long for Klain to lose sight of it. Charver had raced up and down at least two hills while Klain kept up his steady pace behind, though the boy had not topped the third. When Klain reached the top of the second rise, he saw why. At the bottom of the hill sat a small pond, the grass that surrounded it still a dull green color, hanging on to life as long as it could. No streams fed into the pond, and looking around, he could not fathom how any water could collect in such a desolate landscape.
Charver had knelt down next to the pond and was holding his small belt knife in his hand as Klain approached. “What have you found, little Human?”
When the boy did not respond, Klain realized something was wrong and came to a stop several paces away. Trying to keep his voice low—he could not quite achieve a whisper as Humans did—he took a step forward. “Charver, what is wrong?”
The boy sat fixated on a wet log a little thicker than Klain’s arm. Once Klain saw his face, however, he noticed that the boy’s eyes were as wide as his horse’s had been. Glancing around, Klain saw no immediate danger.
Then, the log slid forward.
The grass behind Charver parted and the massive head of a serpent, easily as big as both of Klain’s paws combined, rose into the air. Its tongue licked out in rapid succession as it tasted the back of the boy’s neck. Though Klain could not see how the piece in front of Charver connected to the head, he knew for certain it all belonged to the same animal and could not guess how long the thing must be. “Charver. I want you to listen to me. Do not move. Do not even make a sound.” He took another step closer, though the snake did not take its attention from the boy.
The snake continued to rise up out of the grass and slither its way around the side of Charver, as if it wanted to look him in the eyes before it struck.
Klain took another step closer.
As it swung around to the front of the boy, it turned its back to Klain and he took another step closer.
The boy let out a shaky whimper when the thing’s tongue grazed the side of his cheek. With a raspy hiss, the jaws of the snake parted and two fangs tilted forward from the depths of its mouth. A thick liquid oozed down and dribbled out the side.
The snake jerked its head back to strike and Klain pounced.
Digging the claws of his left paw into the snake’s underjaw, he could do nothing to stop his momentum from carrying them on into the pond. Charver flinched when Klain struck, and tried to leap back, only to be dragged into the pond with them as the snake’s body slammed into his side.
Landing in the pond, he plunged into its depths, completely submerging under the surface. Fear gripped him even as he hung onto the snake’s head. Kicking out a leg, he felt no bottom. Something slid past his chest, wrapped around him and squeezed. The suddenness and force of the grip caught him by surprise and the majority of his air whooshed from his lungs before he could flex his chest muscles. Pulling the head to him, he bit down with all his might. The creature compressed with unbelievable force, and in the pain of what felt like his ribs breaking, he clenched his jaws harder. The salty taste of blood flooded his mouth, and a hollow crack muffled by the water, reverberated in his ears. The snake loosened its grip from his chest. Spitting out the head, Klain pushed the animal from around his waist.
Looking up, he saw a small circle of light high over his head. His lungs burned and fought to pull in air, though he knew if he allowed them their desire, it would mean his death. Never had he been in this much water before, though his arms and legs kicked as if they knew what they should do. Keeping his eyes fixed on the circle of light, he watched it grow larger even as he realized he would never make it before his lungs forced him to take a breath.
When he broke the surface and sucked in the sweet air of the grasslands, he wanted to weep. Thrashing around like a half drowned rat, Klain paddled his way to the side of the pond. He whipped out a paw and grabbed a bundle of grass. Looking about, his panic filled him anew. “Charver! Charver!”
“Here.” A small cough sounded from somewhere behind him and he adjusted his grip to turn. There, a few paces away, he saw the boy clinging to his own patch of grass.
Using the grass as handles to move along the bank, Klain made his way to the boy. Holding onto the bank, he reached out and grabbed Charver, pulling him in tight against his chest. “Are you hurt?”
“Nix! Yet, there is no bottom and I cannot pull myself out!” Terror filled the boy’s voice.
“Shh. It is all right now. I am here.” Klain stroked the back of Charver’s head for a moment, trying to calm him down. “Here.” Taking an extra large amount of grass in one paw, Klain lowered his other to the boy’s waist. “Use the grass to pull while I lift you out.” It took the last of Klain’s strength, yet finally the boy lay panting on the flat ground.
Reaching out as far as he could, Klain grabbed a second pawful of grass to pull himself from the water. The grass ripped from the ground, however, and he almost slid back into the depths of the pond. Gasping for breath, he waved Charver away. “Go, fetch help. Men and ropes.” The boy nodded and ran back to the wagons. “And hurry!” He was not sure the boy heard that last order because it came out in a croak. He was exhausted!
Bubbles rippled the surface of the water just behind him and he looked around wildly. His hindpaws kicked the side of the pond and he found that it sloped away from him like an inverted funnel. Something slid past his thigh and he jerked. Slamming his free arm down into the water next to him, his clenched paw struck something firm, yet fleshy. A length of black snake broke the surface and he struck it with all the strength he could summon. His claws sank into the exposed side, cutting four deep gashes. The animal did not react. The head of the serpent floated up next to Klain and stared at him with dull, lifeless eyes. Two large holes where Klain’s fangs had sunk into the top of its skull leaked blood and bits of gore into the surrounding water.
Taking a deep breath—he cursed himself for being so shaken—he watched as the rest of the dead snake floated to the surface around him.
“Over here!” Charver’s voice rang out over the open range. Within moments, Charver, Rohann, and Timms stood on the edge of the pond looking down at him.
Kneeling down just out of Klain’s reach, Timms laughed. “I thought you smelled bad dry, Kith. Yet, you are much worse smelling when wet!”
“Give over, Timms.” Rohann turned and waved to the other men heading their way.
With a strong rope and several men, they pulled Klain from his watery prison. Rolling to his back, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked back at the snake. “That water pit has no bottom.”
“Aye, there are ponds like this all over the As
garthian plains. Though they all have bottoms. Some as deep as thirty paces. They are fed from underground rivers that flow from the Morlis Mountains.” Timms walked past Klain to stand on the edge of the pond. “That has to be the biggest Niyoka I have ever seen. It must be at least six paces long!” Turning his head, he looked down at Klain. “You impress me more and more, Master Klain.”
Rohann joined him at the edge. “Aye. That is quite impressive.” Flicking a finger at the group of men who had helped pull Klain from the water, he pointed back to the snake. “Get that out of there. I want to take it with us.”
Klain found his master’s order odd, however, once the men had fished the snake from the pond and had it stretched out onto the grass, he had to admit it was impressive. The thing stretched easily twice as long as he stood tall. At its thickest point, it was about as wide as his thigh.
Organizing the men, Rohann had them pick up the snake and carry it back to the wagon train. “I am happy to say that you have once again earned your pay, Master Klain. Charver told me how you grabbed the thing just before it struck.” Clapping a hand to his shoulder, the man grinned. “I did not even know you knew how to swim.”
Repressing a shiver—memories of his body’s desire to fill his lungs with water still hung fresh in his mind—Klain looked the man in the eye. “I do not.” With water still dripping from his fur, he stepped past Rohann and headed back to the wagons.
At least now I know what will be haunting my dreams for many moons to come.
The gates of the Rillion villa came into view, and Arderi Cor’s heart sank. He knew he could get the supplies he and his brother would need. It was Ragnor that was the issue. In the short time Arderi had spent at the villa, the large black Silawaian had become more than a mentor; he was a friend as well. How could he tell him that everything he believed may not be exactly the truth? That everything the Tat’Sujen Order stood for may be false?
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