The grey light of the morning revealed a thin layer of fog. It clung to the reeds and branches like ghostly tendrils. The distant birdsong and trilling morning calls of the yellow-striped frogs were almost soothing. Soon enough, the damp in the air would fade and likely leave a clear day. She rebuilt the fire to ward off the initial chill and see if the warmth eased her head.
It did not.
The paste, at least, had removed most traces of the blood, but the heavy scent of the green pulp remained. She gathered up the remains of the nuts, mash, and shells and tossed them into the firepit. As they burned down, the smell intensified and spread across the woods. Amelia cringed, wondering if the scent was common enough to be passed off as normal. It took only a few minutes longer to disperse the ash, bury her firepit, and hide all traces of her rest.
When Amelia turned her attention to the mare, she noted that the horse was favoring her right side. The listlessness in her dark eyes remained. Guilt prickled through Amelia. Crossing to her, Amelia stroked the horse's neck. The mare glanced up at her balefully, then resumed grazing.
"I'm sorry," Amelia said softly. "I pushed you too far yesterday. I wasn't paying listening." She picked up a handful of the coarse paint weed and brushed her coat. "You shouldn't have had to do anything more than haul carts and run messages. The non-emergency kind."
The mare shook her head.
There were still many miles yet. Large swathes of wheat and corn grew beyond the forest along with meadows of poppy grass and all sorts of nourishing food. She released the mare and patted her back. "Thank you for carrying me as far as you did."
The mare resumed grazing, her tail swishing back and forth. She would make her way back to Telhetum when she had enough rest. If she was like the rest of her kin, she'd have a strong instinct to guide her home to stable and grain.
With a sigh, Amelia picked up her satchels and strung them over her shoulders. They weighed so much that for a moment she swayed.
If she kept going on foot, she wouldn't make it to the Tue-Rah before the end of the day. And her medicine…She swished what remained in the flask. There was now far more empty space than liquid. Maybe she had enough for the rest of today. Maybe.
The wood itself provided sufficient shelter and opportunities to hide, proving to be far larger than she thought. It appeared to skirt the edges of her chosen path toward the Tue-Rah anyway. And what difference did it make if she was swift or not. Naatos or his brothers would almost certainly come looking for her, and this time she would not object to being found. Thank Elonumato for their exceptional tracking abilities.
Amelia adjusted the straps on her satchels and wove her way through the forest, keeping its edge ever in sight. Sometimes her mind blanked and she realized that she had reached some other point of the forest without precisely remembering how she reached it. It was like walking through a great green dream, the air thickly calm. Occasionally she smelled something reptilian and thought she glimpsed crocodiles deep in the forest's shadows or in the fields beyond. But then she corrected herself. There were no crocodiles here. Winters were far too cold and harsh. It was her imagination. Maybe the pulp's prolonged scent was making her imagine things.
The forest carried a sleep within it. A place like this was like both death and rest. It reminded her of what little she had seen of Elonumato's Land. Perhaps it had been cruel to bring Shon back into the chaos of this world. Who was she to decide if someone should live? Who was to say he would have made that much more of a difference with the time he had?
Perhaps it was for the best that she would not survive her calling. Life was hard and frantic, mostly merciless, and usually startling in the most uncomfortable ways.
The breeze on her back warned her that her gum bandages had fallen from the center of her back or been absorbed. Maybe there would be additional medical supplies in the temple. There certainly had been enough when she was there.
A few times she stopped, refilled her waterskin, leaned against a tree to catch her breath, and then carried on. Time did not seem to pass in this forest, but Amelia kept putting length after length behind herself. She had to be getting closer. The edge of the forest remained always on her right, and, often through the trees, she glimpsed Telhetum and its beautiful palace with the shining opalescent walls that now hurt to look at.
A faint snuffling and rustling caught her attention. Amelia stopped beneath a crack-barked maple. Most of her weight rested on the trunk as she turned. A shaggy form moved deeper into the shadows, a somewhat faded-blue mark clinging to the dark fur. The air did have a distinctly bear-like scent, yet she had not noticed it until now.
The young bruin shambled along to her sleuth, entering a small clearing with clusters of young birches and oaks. Large berry bushes surrounded the trees, their boughs thick with leaves and berries. A large rotting trunk lay on its side, split open. Golden shelf mushrooms, better known as chicken of the wood, grew along the shadowed sides. One of the bruins nibbled delicately on the mushrooms while three others dug out the tree ants and broke the dark yellow wood apart. All the rest of the sleuth feasted on berries.
They regarded Amelia lazily. The ancient techniques of the Bealorns guided most of these free-range bruins back to Telhetum in a long meandering journey that tightened the bonds of the sleuth, improved their minds, and strengthened their endurance. This particular sleuth appeared close to completing its period of exploration. And they would hopefully be willing to help her. She held out her hand to the nearest one.
The bruin gave a hearty snort and thrust her snout against Amelia's arm and shoulder in an affectionate nuzzle.
Relieved, Amelia rested her face in the bear's thick fur. "I'm so happy to see you."
The bruin snuffled at the top of her head. Her wet black nose tickled the back of Amelia's neck. Amelia pulled away when the bruin tried to lick the wounds on her back. "Let's not do that," she said, wiping the moisture off.
The bruin pressed her nose against Amelia's hand like a large dog. Amelia resumed stroking her between the ears. A few of the other bruins approached to sniff her as well. One sneezed. Most returned to eating the crisp pull berries and tart jasper fruit that bulged from the low branches of the wiry shrubs. From the purple and blue stains along bruin's mouth, she had already eaten her fill. She also looked to be the largest and strongest, even if it wasn't likely she was the fastest.
"I hope you don't mind carrying me the rest of the way," Amelia said. She scratched the bear's neck to her shoulders. "Agmatem?" If the bruins were near the end of their exploration period, they wouldn't mind this at all, and their response to the command would be the clearest indicator of their willingness to participate. Bruins could not be forced to do anything they didn't want to do.
With another loud snort, the bruin lowered her shoulders. Amelia climbed on gingerly. Riding bareback on a bruin was not as comfortable as a horse, but this was far better than walking. "Evelshi." The broadly muscled bruin straightened. Amelia patted her thick neck. "Vespacha."
The bruin started forward easily. At first, two of the nearest bruins followed, still licking the berry juice from their jaws. Then three more joined. Next another two. Soon the whole sleuth trailed along, their soft treading footsteps and the low rustle of the brush interspersed with the occasional sneeze and huff.
The bruin's shambling pace lulled Amelia to rest even more. After a while, she stretched across the bruin's back, buried her hands in her dark fur, and closed her eyes. Even though she had slept through the night, it felt as if she had been awake for days. The medicine did nothing for the dull pounding in her head, but when she closed her eyes the pain eased. The last time her head hurt this much was after state board exams. She'd slept for a day and a half, only waking up for some sort of bean stew and biscuits Uncle Joe made. The memory brought a faint smile and a few tears, but she wiped them away.
She drifted into faint bouts of sleep, rousing every few paces and adjusting course. The bruins continued at a slow walk, seemingly
content to carry on with this, likely to their perspective, purposeless journey.
Loud roars and crumbling stirred Amelia after what felt like an eternity. Blinking, she pushed herself up. They were now farther on the outskirts of the forest, and Telhetum was almost behind them. The sun indicated it was late morning. All her exhaustion evaporated as rage billowed in its place once she realized what was happening.
* * *
Matthu crouched on the uppermost walkway of the city's outer wall. The small shield tucked between his doublet and undertunic pinched his stomach and side, but he ignored it. Did it really matter if he was uncomfortable? What exactly did matter anymore?
A low haze clung to the open grass outside the city, interrupted only by the dark gouge of the main thoroughfare that sliced toward the horizon. He hated it. Hated that Amelia had been banished. Hated that his brother was in some sort of solitary thinking cell. Hated the way his socks bunched around his ankles. Hated the glum emptiness that hung over the city as they waited for the Paras and their inevitable vengeance to return.
He'd spent most of the night thinking about this. After the Paras escaped, King Theol did order the release of the Machat. Several, including Kepsalon, were ordered to come and speak with the royal court. An arrogant demand given the previous refusals to listen, at least in Matthu's mind. The meeting had started early yesterday evening and had yet to finish, though some of the Machat recommendations had already been carried out. He'd spent the night helping soak the city in water and kemp, a bitter citric herb that made fires harder to start. Despite his many hours of training and hard work, blisters heated the tops of his palms and fingers. Even a co-conspirator like him had been welcomed enough to assist in preparing the city for the inevitable attack while the women, children, elderly, and infirm were evacuated to safer locations. Not that they were likely to remain safe for long. Matthu blinked, his eyes burning and dry with fatigue.
Elder Commander Cherldon had told him to go rest. He'd even made some comment about how Matthu likely needed the rest as much as Shon if he was going to get rid of the traitor's mind influence. Matthu hadn't known how to respond any more than he knew how to sleep now, and the elder commander had departed before he could come up with more than a glazed expression of surprise.
Matthu scuffed the back of his hand against his cheek, staring out toward the temple. It wasn't visible from this distance, but he knew the former Paras were there. Plotting, most likely.
Whole sections of the city lay deserted, the air smelling mostly of kemp. Ayamin lay in hiding throughout the city, some in towers, some behind barricades, some on those buildings with stone rooftops. Hastily and crudely constructed catapults sat on the edges of the walls, large boulders and shifting masses of spike-filled cloths near at hand. Some of the catapults were relics from the previous king's rule. Those, at least, were made of iron, dark and well-oiled despite the fact that supposedly they had not been in use since the vows of the Peace King and should have been destroyed. These were fastened more firmly and looked far less inclined to collapse beneath the pressure of an attack. But their presence bothered Matthu. They fed an aching awareness that what he believed about his leaders and his country was not necessarily true.
What was he supposed to do now?
Matthu clenched his fingers tighter. In the grand scheme, he was nothing, and yet he had to do something. His efforts to uncover where Amelia had been banished resulted in more lectures and scolding from older Ayamin. The Machat prophecy encouraged him to remain on his path, true to his convictions. His convictions told him to honor the vow he swore to support Amelia in restoring the Tue-Rah. To keep his word when no one else could. Except now he had no way of keeping it.
The wind blew against his back, tugging at his hair like careless fingers. Then, abruptly, it stopped. Sharp whistles sliced through the air as the wind slammed hard against Matthu's face. He caught his balance on a stone railing and stood. His heart beat faster, the smoky reptilian scent an even clearer warning. His mouth went dry. "Dragons!" He meant to yell the warning, but as the cry fell out, a massive roar deafened him.
A brilliant stream of orange and red flames cut through the low-hanging clouds as a flaming boulder soared into the watch tower at the far end of the walkway. It blasted through as easily as if the stones were carved from butter. A long black form streaked down and bowled through the eastern wall. Bricks, stone, and mortar flew outward amid a growing plume of dust, silt, and smoke.
Another screeching roar tore through the bleak sky. Matthu caught his balance, barely glimpsing the silver-blue line shooting through the western wall as a massive stone, dripping with fire and melted rock, slammed into the central dome of the palace. The opalescent stones caved beneath it, their smooth and iridescent exterior swiftly darkening as the smoke and heat intensified.
Screams and shouts rose up. Matthu struggled to his feet. Fire blazed in the streets, wooden carts and stands taking flame as easily as dry straw despite the water and kemp. Alarms sounded—bells, horns, drums. Everything. Screaming out warnings as if there was someone out there to help. As if someone didn't know that they were now under attack.
Ayamin archers release their torrents of arrows and bolts. Several met their mark but fell away. Most missed.
One of the dragons ripped through a segment of wall only a few yards from Matthu. The tearing of the stones rumbled through his body, shaking the entire platform. Staggering, Matthu nearly lost his balance. He caught himself, his nails raking over the stone.
The hail of dragonfire, dragonstone, and actual dragons hurtling through the walls, pummeled Matthu's consciousness. The air was thick with smoke, soot, stone, and ash. The outer city walls and palace walls alike exploded at intervals. There might have been only four dragons, but it felt as if there were dozens. As if the attack would never stop.
Then, all at once, it did.
Matthu opened his eyes slowly. He'd fallen onto a ledge, precariously balanced over a pile of rubble. Dust covered him like a blanket.
Most of the walls lay in ruins now, scattered out into the fields. As if it was some sort of joke, the clusters of archers, and even the catapults, remained unharmed by any direct attacks. A few of the newly made catapults had fallen apart in use, but the old ones stood, some on narrow pillars of stone, bits of silt rolling down like sand through an hourglass. It was all as if to say "we're so powerful, we don't even have to worry about your weapons."
The rust-scaled dragon landed on a section of standing wall near to Matthu. His teeth overlapped, each one the size of a dagger blade or larger. His eyes glowed deep orange, and smoke seeped from his nostrils and jagged mouth.
"Listen well, treacherous Awdawms." The voice that boomed from the dragon did not belong to any of the three Paras. Matthu blinked, unable to remember the fourth one's name—Keh something. The dragon continued. "You rejected and defied the coming in the night. As you prefer open combat and prolonged torment to peaceful conquest and painless ends, it is time for you to show your mettle and your strength. Meet before the temple three hours after midday or else the fight will come here to you, and you will be denied even your wretched bones and worthless rags."
The dragon spat out the final words, then thrust his wings down and leaped upward. The great gust of wind knocked Matthu backward. He stared after it, stunned motionless as the Vawtrian disappeared once more into the sky.
At least now he knew what they were to do next.
* * *
Telhetum sat slightly beneath the cusp of hills Amelia stood upon. One of the great towers lay in ruins already, the stones scattered.
Four dragons circled the city. Frequently they drove against a portion of the wall or a tower, shattering it and shooting out streams of rock and sand into the fields beyond. Bolts and arrows rained upward. These did nothing to slow the brothers. Catapults launched barrages of stone and metal, but they too accomplished nothing.
They hadn't listened to her. She'd practically begged Naatos! He'd said
he would find her. And there they were.
And…she paused, blinking. The war catapults weren't supposed to be there. An uncomfortable gnawing bit deeper within her. Where had those come from? Uncle Joe had told her many times about the coronation of the peace king and the secret destruction of the weapons of war. But there were at least some of them remaining. Not that they did any good against the dragons, but their presence was proof of yet another lie.
She tried to wrap her mind around this. It wasn't that Libysha shouldn't have been able to defend itself. The catapults weren't even that effective against dragons. But this greater evidence of more deception stung her to the quik of her soul and the marrow of her bones. Maybe if she returned—
"No!" she shouted. "No. I've had it with all of you." She clenched her teeth, her shoulders bunching tight. "I'm done. Keep your own secrets. Fix your own problems. You all had your chance." Turning her face away, she nudged the bruin. "Vespacha."
The bear moved forward lazily, entirely unconcerned with the dragons or Amelia's anger. The roars, bellows, and crashes reached her as they moved, but Amelia refused to look back. There was nothing she could do anyway, no point in returning. The Tue-Rah was five, maybe six hours away at this rate. She'd slip inside and tell the Tue-Rah to take her somewhere. Not Darmoste though. No. A one-way trip to someplace far away, far from the Libyshans and their treachery.
Far from Naatos and his bloodlust.
38
Choices
When Cobez first appeared in the doorway behind Damur and Helbin, Shon thought he had an ally. He and Cobez had trained together extensively over the years, having become Ayamin at the same time. Before Matthu joined these ranks, he and Cobez had often partnered, often having one another's backs regardless of the situation. But now Cobez simply followed orders, avoiding eye contact with Shon as he stepped up on the ledge to check the air shafts and secured the cushions on the stone benches.
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