by Lara Morgan
The blow never reached him.
Lilith swept in from behind and hit its back with her blade. Blood sprayed into the air and the Alhanti roared in agony, arching away from her bright steel and whipped around to face her. Their swords rang as the metal clashed.
Balkis rolled to his feet, blinking to clear his vision, his senses returning.
‘Here!’ Gergen shouted and Balkis caught his sword as the rider tossed it to him. Both of them joined Lilith in the attack on the Alhanti. It fought hard and for a moment it seemed they would never bring it down but then Balkis found an opening and severed the tendons in the back of its knee. It dropped to the ground and with a cry of rage Gergen hacked off its head with one powerful swipe.
All around them was the stench of blood and death, the cries of the Scanorians and human shouts and grunts suddenly louder. Another three of the small fighters rushed him and Balkis fought them off, punching one in the face as he dispatched the other two, his sword crunching through bone and sinew. He searched for the lay of the battle and saw the other Alhanti, standing alone.
It was half hidden under an awning, its eyes gleaming as it watched the carnage. It saw Balkis and snarled a grin at him, then turned and jogged away, running faster than Balkis would have thought possible, disappearing around the back of a building. He leaped forward in pursuit but a hard blow caught him in the back, sending him sprawling, and he heard Lilith shout his name as the wind from a blade passed through where he’d been standing.
Rolling over across the bloodied stone he saw her battling another four Scanorians, parrying blow after blow as they drove her backward. He sprang to his feet. The escaping Alhanti would have to wait.
It took them some time, but finally, Balkis looked up to see that the battle was all but over. The Scanorians left standing were herded back against a wall. There were barely ten of them. Exhausted, he let his aching sword arm drop.
‘Sir.’ Lilith limped to his side, a bad gash marring her leg. ‘Look.’ She pointed up and, squinting, he saw the winged shadow of a serpent with the Alhanti on it flying away toward the east.
Shafe and another serpent were trying to give chase, but already it was too far ahead for them to catch it. How had that Alhanti gotten so far so fast? And why hadn’t Shafe or the other serpents felt another of their kind close by?
‘We can’t let it go, sir,’ Lilith said.
‘It’s too far to catch it now.’
‘Someone needs to follow it,’ she said. ‘We don’t know enough. It must be going to report back. I’ll go,’ she volunteered.
‘No, I need you here, Lilith. And we can’t just run after it, we don’t have enough serpents to risk one.’
‘But we need the information, sir.’
‘We do —’ Balkis surveyed the bloodied mass of bodies, ‘— but first we must deal with this.’ He had never seen so many dead and he prayed they had not lost too many of their own.
‘We have to honour those who gave their lives with a proper burial,’ he said wearily. ‘Come.’ He began walking toward the men who held the surviving Scanorians captive.
***
It was almost sunset by the time they had ordered the bodies. The Scanorians they piled outside the town walls and their own men and women they took out to a separate pile, laying them down with the dead townsfolk. None had survived. It was exhausting and soul-destroying labour and by the end Balkis saw the despair and horror etched onto the faces of the younger riders.
There were close to four hundred Scanorians dead plus the Alhanti, and of their own they had lost twelve. It was a small number in comparison but they had too few to lose even this many. Eight of the dead had been riders and four were men of the Faithful. Valdus had been among them. As they set alight the bodies of both their enemy and their own, Balkis wondered how they were going to survive the war to come.
He ordered the captives be bound for the walk back, and sent a rider to the scarp to notify the others what had happened. He also sent instructions for a scout to take a muthu in the direction the Alhanti had taken. Lilith was right, they didn’t have enough information. For all they knew, this army of Scanorians was the advance for the bigger force. They needed to know what was out there and when it was coming. He recalled the look of interest and almost delight on the Alhanti’s face as it had watched the killing. It had almost seemed to be assessing what they were doing, as if the battle had been a test. Balkis rubbed a dirty hand over his face, feeling the tender spot on his jaw where the Alhanti had hit him. If Azoth would slaughter a village just to test them, what would he do when he came in full force? He looked at the backs of the Scanorians as they trudged away; perhaps they would have an answer for him.
Chapter 37
Tuon woke to the sound of rain and Nilah’s voice raised in protest, coming through the wall that separated their rooms. She couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but thought it most likely she was arguing with Morfessa about what to write in the note they were sending to Rorc.
She threw back the covers and dragged herself out of bed. The last person she wanted to think of was Rorc. She was packed and ready to go, her small bag sitting on the floor by the door; all she had to do was get dressed and join the others. She washed her face with the remains of the bathwater from the night before and dressed in the trousers and shirt Veila had given her. They had been up most of the night, Morfessa and Veila arguing with Nilah about her proposal, and sometime late in the evening one of the Faithful men had come in to bring them news of Salmut.
The army had marched to the Free Lands border, blocking Merchants Pass and taking prisoner any Free Lands’ traders who were trying to get home. And the army had swelled with eager young men from villages near the pass, who had joined in the hope of glory, or riches or just out of stupidity. But there were also rumours that there were some in Salmut who had decided to follow Balkis. Small bands of men had been seen following the trail of the army of riders and Faithful, and there was talk of unrest in the city.
‘We have to act and we have to act fast,’ Nilah had said. ‘We are on the cusp of battle with the Free Lands and once the fighting starts, how will it stop?’
She had finally convinced Morfessa and Veila, for they were due to leave Fathrin’s lodge by mid-morning. Veila had spoken with the Faithful and they seemed to have agreed to the plans, for they had already packed supplies and readied the muthu.
Tuon pulled her hair back from her face in a single clip and went out into the courtyard. Ivar was sitting on the bench under the great tree in the centre and greeted her as she crossed to the main room.
‘Ready for more riding?’ he said with a warm smile.
Tuon shook her head. ‘We’ve only been here four days. I think I’m starting to miss the Isles; at least there were only jungle walks there.’
‘Perhaps one day I’ll take you back,’ he replied. ‘Mother would be happy to see you again.’
Tuon wasn’t so sure about that, but the thought of being in the Serpent Isles again was a pleasant one. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But right now all I can think of is food.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ He rose. ‘I made honey bread earlier; there should be some left if the Faithful haven’t eaten it all.’
They walked to the kitchen together and found the end of a loaf, and made a pot of kaf to have with it. They met Veila in the courtyard when they came back carrying their food. She looked unusually worried, a deep frown between her eyes.
‘Veila,’ Tuon said, putting the meal down on a small table under the tree, ‘sit down, you look worn out.’
‘I’m all right.’ The Seer refused the cup Tuon offered her. ‘And I don’t have time for kaf — we’ve too much to do.’
‘Sit.’ Tuon forced the cup into her hands. ‘You won’t last a day on the muthu if you don’t rest a little before we leave.’
Veila hesitated then gave Tuon a half smile. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Good.’ Tuon sat beside her while Ivar hande
d them some sliced honey bread. ‘How late were you up?’ she said.
‘I don’t know.’ Veila shook her head. ‘Too late.’
‘Nilah is determined,’ Ivar said, and the Seer’s mouth thinned.
‘Yes, in that she is very like her mother.’
‘She reminds me a little of my mother,’ Ivar smiled. ‘I think Pasiphae would be surprised by this new Guardian.’
‘Seer.’ Bernal, one of the Seducers of the Faithful, strode across the courtyard to them. ‘The muthu are ready and most belongings are packed.’
‘Good, we will leave as soon as Morfessa and Nilah are ready,’ Veila replied.
He nodded and his dark eyes went to Tuon. ‘Can I take your bag?’
‘It’s in my room,’ Tuon said. Like most of the Faithful Bernal was a tall man and well muscled, but his short black hair exposed an angular face she found unsettling. His gaze missed nothing and Tuon could not look at him without thinking of Rorc. Thankfully he left them swiftly, managing to walk across the paved courtyard without making a sound. She stared down at the honey bread in her hand, finding she was no longer hungry.
‘Here.’ Ivar took the bread away. ‘I’ll wrap some to take with us — perhaps you will be hungry later.’ He smiled, his dark skin making his teeth gleam in contrast, and as always Tuon found herself comforted by that smile.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘You must finish your kaf, though,’ he said with mock seriousness, ‘I don’t think I can wrap that.’ She laughed.
‘Come.’ Veila stood. ‘I can’t hear any more shouting. We should be able to go soon. You two make your way to the muthu and wait for us there.’
Tuon finished her kaf and then went with Ivar out to the back of the complex, where the men were waiting for them. The sky was patched with cloud and a light wind was moving the tops of the surrounding trees. They were high in the ranges and the cooler weather had been a welcome change from the humidity of Salmut. She stood with her arms folded across her breasts, watching the two Hunters, Alezo and Devin, check the muthu saddles and various packs which were strapped to them. The animals stood stoically chewing on something that made them drool, ignoring the men as they worked. Tuon was not fond of muthu but they were preferable to the serpents; at least they travelled on the ground and she had become accustomed to their swaying gait. Her lower back only hurt half as much as it had before. Next to her Ivar gave her a wry glance. There were no muthu on the Isles and she knew he found the riding particularly hard going.
‘Mount up,’ Alezo said. ‘The others are coming.’
Tuon hadn’t heard a thing, but as she went across to one of the muthu and pulled herself up into the saddle the sound of voices and footsteps came. Morfessa, Veila and Nilah emerged from the walkway, followed by the two Seducers. Veila’s expression told Tuon she must have had yet another argument with the young Guardian. She sighed inwardly. Above them a hawk made a sudden sharp cry and she looked up to see it winging away toward the desert. One of Rorc’s own message birds. It would find him by the next morning wherever he was. The thought depressed her.
Alezo took the lead, heading down the sloping track that was the only access to Fathrin’s complex. The trail wound through thick tree cover for some way before it emerged to follow the edge of a steep ravine. The ground was rocky and uneven with a sheer drop on their right. There was nothing to see below but the tops of the trees spreading out to more ranges. They made good progress and by midday they had reached another path that continued on into the higher peaks of the ranges.
It was hard going. The path wound steadily up, at times emerging from the forest to skirt steep ridges littered with treacherous scree, and at others dipping down into dim, cool valleys moist with moss. They stopped in one of the valleys by a cold clear pond for a short break late in the afternoon. While the muthu drank, the rest of them stood silent, eating boiled eggs and bread spread with soft cheese, the oppressive stillness of the valley suffocating any impetus to talk. On either side of the path tall trees rose, trunks thick and gnarled with age. The pond was fed from an underground spring but the water barely made a sound as it came up from the earth, and there was a total absence of insect or animal sounds; not even a bird sang. Even the Seducers looked uncomfortable, as if they sensed something she couldn’t see. It was an eerie place and Tuon was glad when they left.
By nightfall they had reached the higher passes and made camp in a small clearing. At one side of it was an enormous stone, oblong in shape and the height of three men, and flanked on each side by two stones of graduated height. Tuon sat with Nilah and Veila near the tallest stone, watching as the Faithful set up the camp. Ivar had gathered firewood and he struck a flint and blew gently on some dry leaves until flames curled their edges, his dark eyes squinting against the smoke.
‘It will be cold tonight,’ Veila noted.
Tuon looked up at the pale purple sky of dusk. The clouds had all cleared and faint stars were starting to show as the sun set. ‘We should be warm enough in the tents,’ she said.
‘Especially since we three are sharing one,’ Nilah added. ‘It reminds me of a trip I once took with Mother as a child. I had four maids with me in my tent.’ She smiled faintly.
‘Where were you going?’
‘Cermez.’ She glanced at Tuon. ‘Mother had a winemaker there who provided all the wine for the palace. Once a year she would go there to choose the wines herself.’ Her smile faded. ‘My mother’s consort was still alive then.’
Tuon felt sorry for her. The Guardian’s second consort after Nilah’s father had been killed in an accident the year Tuon had first gone to live at the Red Pepino; she remembered the funeral procession through the streets, the flower petals raining down from the rooftops like red ash.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tuon said.
‘Why?’ Nilah frowned. ‘I barely remember him. But what of your father, Tuon, your mother, what is your story? Everyone knows mine.’
Tuon shrugged. ‘They were farmers once, a small place in Ressina, I think, but they came to Salmut before I was born.’
‘Why?’
‘A fire destroyed everything; they couldn’t rebuild.’
‘Are they still alive?’
Tuon smiled ruefully. ‘No, they are long dead. Both of them died of the wasting disease within months of each other when I was four. A friend of theirs took me in — a whore, no less.’
‘So that’s what you became.’
‘A girl with no coin has but a few options in Salmut.’ She sighed. ‘But I am done with that life now.’ A sudden memory of Rorc kissing her goodbye came into her mind. Too much pain. Yes, she was done with many things.
‘So now you start a new life, with new people,’ Ivar said and, dusting his hands, sat beside her on the ground.
‘I think we are all going to have to start a new life,’ Nilah said. ‘What do you think, Veila?’ She turned to the Seer, but Veila didn’t appear to notice she had even spoken.
‘Veila?’ Nilah prodded her arm and she stirred.
‘What did you say?’ She frowned and Nilah shook her head. ‘Never mind.’ The young Guardian’s gaze turned to Ivar. ‘Are you making our meal?’
‘As soon as you’re hungry.’
‘I’m hungry now.’
‘Then I’d better get it ready,’ he replied. He rose to get the supplies and Tuon looked at Veila. The Seer was still sitting staring into the flames as if she saw something there. With a sudden chill, Tuon wondered if she was trying to quest the Void. She had been very quiet since they’d stopped for the evening — even before they’d stopped, if she thought about it. During the day Tuon had caught her glancing behind them as if she suspected they were being followed, or peering into the forest with a watchful stare. But surely the Faithful would have known if there was someone following them? Uneasy and feeling suddenly cold as the last rays of sunlight fell away, Tuon fetched her coat from her pack and went to help Ivar.
***
Veila could no
t get her hands warm, no matter how close she sat to the fire. A shadow or a threat had been growing in the back of her mind all day; she could feel one of the Four out there, somewhere beyond the trees. She glanced at the Seducers sitting some distance away. Neither Sinan nor Bernal had shown a sign of sensing anything. And Morfessa was too distracted by the scrolls to have noticed anything amiss, scribbling away on a scrap of parchment and muttering to himself. This sensing was perhaps only meant for her. She pulled the coat Tuon had draped over her closer around her slim shoulders and tried to stifle the sliver of fear that rose in her breast. The Four had so long been a myth that even for her it was hard to imagine them walking the earth. And there was too much about them they did not know. What did they want? Would they really help them against their own brother god?
‘Is something wrong?’ Nilah said. ‘You seem unsettled.’
‘I’m fine,’ Veila replied. ‘You should get some rest.’
Nilah’s expression became annoyed. ‘I’m not tired.’ She rose, dusting the seat of the snug-fitting pants Tuon had given her. ‘I think I’ll go talk with Devin for a while.’
Devin was the youngest of the Faithful with them. A Hunter of the highest level, he had an open, attractive face and charming smile that Veila was sure had lured many a young woman to his bed — and deceived many a mercenary to their death.
‘As you wish,’ Veila replied.
‘I do wish.’ Nilah gave her a hard smile then inclined her head in an almost mocking bow, and walked away to where the young man stood leaning against a tree. Veila sighed. There was little love lost between the two of them, but she knew much of the fault lay on her own shoulders; she needed to make more of an effort to understand the young woman. Nilah was not like her mother, but she had the potential to be, and Veila knew she had to curb her inclination to berate the young woman and start supporting her instead. Grumpy old woman, she chastised herself. Remember what it was like to be young?