To Walk in the Way of Lions

by H. Leighton Dickson

  And his long strides took him to his tent in moments but he paused to remove the hood and Path lifted from his shoulder and soared into the night sky. The Captain glanced at Ursa as she now rose to her feet, and she trudged off after him, muttering the entire time.

  That silence descended again, only the hiss and crackle of the fire for music. Finally, Agoyian took a long swig from his flask and exhaled.

  “So that Scar really a Seer, then? A mongrel like that? Didn’t think that was allowed.”

  Kirin nodded. ‘Scar’ was the name, like Sunshine and Snowflake, which their guide had awarded to the Seer and, unlike the snow leopard, benAramis seemed quite fine with it. Kirin did not want to know what the man had taken to calling him. At least he did it behind his back.

  “He seeing something about that star?”

  “I’m sorry, sidi –“

  The jaguar held up his half-gloved hand. “I know, I know. Imperial business. It’s just odd, is all.”

  “This whole trip is odd, don’t you think?” asked Fallon, her voice and expression sweet but there was something else there. Again, Kirin sighed. He knew why she was angry. He would have to speak to her about it sometime soon.

  Agoyian’s sharp eyes danced now, between the Scholar and the Captain. He shook his head but to his credit, left it alone.“That horse of the Major’s, it’s not good.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s slowing us down.”

  “I know.”

  “I can… you know…”

  He sighed a third time. Blast but this journey was long. “No, sidi. The Major and I will handle it in the morning. It’s an Imperial horse. It must be killed with an Imperial blade.”

  “Right.” He was about to say something more, but Ursa’s voice rang out from the tent.

  “Captain,” she called. “Solomon says to tell you he’s in Itallee.”

  “Itallee?” Kirin frowned. “What is Itallee?”

  And he too rose to his feet and left the fire, leaving a jaguar, a tigress and a cheetah sitting quietly, left to their thoughts.

  Above them and unnoticed that night, the star was glowing and growing very bright.

  ***

  They killed the Major’s horse at dawn.

  One swift thrust with a blade into its heart and its legs buckled and its body lurched forward, then down. Ursa remained at its head, hands cradling its long nose, speaking to it as one might speak to a soldier, giving it courage, giving it strength, giving it honor. Even as it went down, she stayed, talking and praising until the great dark eyes grew glassy and still. They allowed her to remain for a moment, before burning the carcass in the same fashion as a warrior, leaving the pyre to send smoke and sparks into the first light of morning.

  That evening, they arrived at the foothills of the mountains. Now, all mountains look big to a cat, even a tall cat like a lion, tiger or cheetah, but in reality, there are big mountains, and then there are very big mountains. Our Mother, the Great Mountains, are without rival in all the Upper Kingdom, and most likely all the world, but there are rumors of mountains far to the north and far to the west that would be a worthy consort for her. It is foolhardy to believe this. It is most likely a faerie tale, told by guides to civilians who will believe anything and pay them handsomely for it.

  These were not very big mountains.

  Agoyian had called for a halt as they reached these first foothills, and Kirin jogged alMassay up to the Mongolian horse’s side. They dismounted.

  “Right,” said the jaguar. “We can do one of two things.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, we can ride through these mountains, which will take us only a few days and take us into Hirak near Khirakuk, or head north and meet up with the Wall at Rayyhath. Your choice.”

  At the mention of the Wall, the Captain felt a rush sweep up him from the tip of his tail. The Wall. The Great Wall. Security. Stability. Order.

  “The Wall takes us along to Shiryia?”

  “Yeah,” Agoyian nodded. “Follows these mountains north then west. Stops at a battle fort called Sri’Verenshir, pretty close to Sharan’yurthah.”

  “Sharan’yurthah?”

  “Yeah, Sharan’yurthah. The biggest city on the outmost edge of the Kingdom. No wall there. Just lots and lots of tigers.”

  Kirin set his hands on his hips, surveyed the peaks and ridges all along the horizon. The Wall. How he wished Kerris were here. He would surely tell him which way to go, which route to choose. Not for the first time did he regret sending his brother away.

  “Which would you do, sidi? For the best time and least exertion?”

  The jaguar surveyed the mountains now, chewing the stud in his bottom lip. “Well,” he began, “The Wall makes you the best time…”

  “But?”

  “But these mountains are full of bears. Gowrain country, it is. If you head north toward the wall, you have maybe 3, 4 days in constant danger of them and then safety. If you head through, 2 at most. But then, desert. As I said before, it’s your choice.”

  The Captain looked back at his party. Looked back at all the horses, the foals, the necessity of the cart. In his heart of hearts, he wished for the Wall, for some semblance of civilization in this wild land. But he knew…

  Suddenly, from high above, the falcon swooped downward, bleating in her shrill sharp voice and the Captain instinctively threw a look to the Seer. The man was dismounting, his arms and legs shaking as he did so, and he leaned into his saddle, eyes closed, panting. The Captain felt a rush of dread.

  “Sidi?” said Kirin, beginning to take steps in the Seer’s direction. The Major too, sprung from her desert horse, but even she wasn’t quick enough to catch him before he hit the ground.

  “No, no, not a good place for this,” muttered Rhan Agoyian, looking around at the hills anxiously. The falcon was swooping and crying, making tight, agitated circles over their heads.

  Ursa and Kirin rolled the Seer over, and Fallon was on the ground now, passing a water skin into their waiting hands. His breaths were coming in short, shallow puffs and the tawny pelt on his face was damp with sweat. The mane under the kheffiyah was dripping.

  “He’s too hot,” growled Ursa. “He’s like a kiln.”

  “Sun-sick. I’m certain of it.” It was Sherah now, still mounted but leaning in, one brow arched, detached. Kirin knew she would not mourn if he died.

  He turned to their guide. “What do we do for sun-sickness?”

  “We can’t make camp here. Cap. It’s not a good place—“

  “What. Do. We. Do?” Every word bitten and precise, leaving no room for discussion.

  “Cool him down.” Sherah again, a rare tone of authority in her voice. “Strip him of some layers, keep his pelt and clothing damp.”

  Agoyian again. “But that’s all the water we’ve got. We’ll need that for the journey. We’ve got at least two days in the desert after the mountains.”

  “Are there rivers in these mountains?” asked Kirin, allowing the women to work and rising to his feet. “Springs? Snow caps?”

  “Further north, but here? No.”

  Fallon frowned as she and the Major began removing the many layers of light linen desert wear, discarding them in a pile at their side. “Are you sure it’s sun-sickness, Sherah?’

  “Of course it is,” the Alchemist purred. “What else could it be?”

  “Oh well, I don’t know. It’s just…”

  Hands on hips, Kirin turned to her. “Sidala, what are you thinking?”

  She glanced up at him, for a moment forgetting the fact that she was supposed to be hating him. “I…I just don’t know. But there’s something else, something more…I just, I don’t know…”

  “Not helpful.”

  “I’ll remember.” She nodded, and to her own surprise, she smiled at him, and instantly felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “I will.”

  Agoyian stepped forward. “We can’t stay here, Cap. We’ve got no defenses. Gowrain will have us for
supper, they will.”

  “Sidi, your concern is admirable, but—“

  “Oh mother…” gasped the tigress and all eyes turned to see.

  It is a most unusual thing in cats – a sign of our creation from the Tao wheel perhaps, the opposing yet intertwining nature of black and white – that when a cat receives a wound, his pelt will do one of three things. If it is a flesh wound that heals easily, there is no problem. The pelt grows back the original color, whether tawny, spotted, marbled or striped. But if it is a deep wound, a wide one, or one which does not heal easily, the pelt invariably grows back white. By the time we are adults, cats have a multitude of white scars across their pelts and most can tell you exactly when and where each was won. Our stripes chronicle our lives, in a manner of speaking. Our histories.

  But there are wounds that are so ghastly, so severe, that the pelt is melted away, and underlying skin is all that remains. In most cats, these scars are black, for in most cats, their underlying skin is black. Now I do know of several cats whose skin is pink. Pink finger pads and foot pads, pink noses, pink ears. I also know a few who possess a browny color, which is a little more common in lions, but for the most part, our skin is black. Why this is, is a mystery. This black scarring is deep, not superficial, caused by very traumatic events. Burns of any kind almost always produce such scarring.

  This was the scarring that all eyes saw on the chest and ribs and back of the Seer, causing all activity to stop for several heartbeats. It was most unexpected, shocking even, to see such a history on one of their own. Sherah, however, slipped from the back of her horse, golden eyes wide, and she knelt beside him, running her hands above the scarring as if to divine their cause. The falcon bleated in protest.

  “Fire… These were made in a fire. A very bad one…” She looked up at the Captain. “These are old.”

  “So they are not causing the sickness?”

  “No.”

  Fallon and Ursa resumed their work, poring water across his brow, his throat, his chest, but to tell the truth, it seemed to have little effect. His claws extruded through the slits in his gloves, and he seemed to be in great discomfort.

  Agoyian stepped close to the Captain. “We can not camp here.”

  “We can not leave him.”

  “Well…” the jaguar resumed chewing on the stud in his lip. “We can put him in the cart, head back out of these foot hills a half day’s ride and make our way north…”

  “But that is longer.”

  “Well, by several days, yeah.”

  “Do we need to enter the mountains to meet up with the Wall?”

  “The Wall is in the mountains, so yeah, we do.”

  “So, either way, we are going to go through mountains.”

  The sharp green eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Either way.”

  “Then we go through now.”

  “But we have no defenses –“

  “Wait.” It was Ursa now. She stepped away from the Seer and struggled to her feet. She held out her hand and remarkably the falcon landed, wings wide, beak open and predatory. “Gowrain. We need you to seek Gowrain. Let us know if they are close, let us know…” She growled in frustration, tail lashing and to Kirin’s absolute surprise, she closed her eyes.

  There was silence in the foothills for a moment, before Path the falcon chirruped and lit from her hand, soaring in ever widening circles above them.

  With a deep breath, Ursa glanced at her Captain. “She will watch for us.”

  Fallon gasped again, put a hand over her mouth.

  “Oh mother…”

  Kirin was getting dizzy. “Sidala?”

  “I know what this is, Captain,” she said, emerald eyes wide. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t know if we can stop it…”

  ***

  They made camp right then and there, against Agoyian’s better judgment, and Sherah had surprised them all by drawing several circles around themselves and the band of horses with fire powder. She lit them with one of her many candles, and they sat in rings of burning light. They did not set up tents. Rather, they determined to stay awake for these few nights in these particular mountains and left the horses tacked and ready to ride at a moment’s notice. Two leopards were patrolling during this first watch. The third slept, ready to patrol with the Major during the second. The falcon circled overhead, watching.

  They ate the last of the milk paste, and waited for the Scholar to speak. The Seer lay sleeping (or a form of it), shivering and panting and they had left on him a sleeveless linen tunic, for the sight of the blistered and blackened pelt was proving too much for them to look upon for any length of time. The Major was obviously worried as she sat, cradling his head in her lap and stroking his brow with a damp strip of cloth. Such familiarity disturbed Kirin, and he made a point to speak with her about it at a later date.

  “Okay, okay,” said the Scholar, pushing her wild hair out of her face. “Remember back in Sha’Hadin, how he and all the other Seers suffered from the cold?”

  Ursa snorted. “How could we forget?”

  “I, I think this is the same, only the reverse.”

  Kirin sat forward. “Why would you say that, sidala?”

  “Remember that night? It was a few days after Sri’Daolath. The night the star changed?”

  It was there, just beyond his memory. She was onto something, he was certain of it.

  “Do you remember what he said that night?”

  Kirin knit his brow, cursing his forgetfulness. “The ‘power’ had just come on. Solomon was excited…”

  “Yes, but then, what did Sireth say? After Solomon?”

  “Who is Solomon, then?” whispered the jaguar to the cheetah.

  “A wizard far, far away,” she whispered back.

  “He responsible for the star?”

  She sipped her tea. “Perhaps.”

  “Please tell me, sidala,” growled the Captain. “My mind is not like yours.”

  “He said, ‘the dragon…the metal dragon…he’s burning up…he’s falling from the sky and he’s burning up…’”

  “Yes,” said Kirin. “Yes. And Kerris said there are no metal dragons, but…”

  “I think Max is the metal dragon. I think Max is the one responsible for waking Solomon and killing the Seers. I think there is a metal dragon in the skyand now he’s burning up and falling from the sky.”

  Kirin frowned. He could not understand this. It was still not making sense.

  “Captain…” The Alchemist now. She was looking at the night sky and so they all looked up.

  “What in the Kingdom…?” muttered Agoyian. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

  “Max almost killed him with the cold…” Fallon whispered as she too stared into the night sky. “And now…”

  “No,” growled Ursa, and she refused to look anymore, but laid her hand across the Seer’s burning brow.

  “And now,” said Fallon. “Max is going to kill him with heat.”

  Kirin’s heart sank.

  For above them all, the star with the brightly glowing tail had split. There were now five stars, all smaller than the first, all with tails, lighting up the night sky. Max, the metal dragon, the ‘saddle-light,’ was falling from the sky, breaking up and burning up, and taking the last Seer of Sha’Hadin with him.

  ***

  Now, if you have never seen Gowrain, you might think them as much legend as behemoths, leviathans and dragons, but I must assure you that they are no myth. There is also considerable debate as to whether or not they are a ‘people’, or simply large brutish animals. I, for one, consider them animals, but there are those who think otherwise, for they attempt to dress themselves in scraps of leather (they have not skilled fingers for sewing, weaving or embroidery) and have what some call a language. Again, I am not convinced of this. I have heard of birds that mimic our language and most convincingly so. Perhaps though they are. It is a mystery.

  There were no Gowrain that night and at first light of dawn, the party p
acked 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.