“I’m with Aric,” Myrana declared. “We strike out for Nibenay. Should we go now?”
“We need to let Amoni know,” Aric said. “She’s in as much danger as the rest of us. And her strength will help us survive the journey back to Nibenay. We’ll get to Amoni, and then tonight, once it’s dark—that’s when we’ll leave. We’ll slip away from the soldiers standing guard, and they won’t even know we’re gone until morning.”
“Assuming she doesn’t send them to kill you before that,” Sellis reminded him.
“Right,” Aric agreed. “Assuming that. We have no other choice, though, so that’s a chance we’ll just have to take.”
“The other choice is that we leave now.”
“We can’t leave Amoni to be killed. I’m sorry, Sellis. Go if you must. But for me, that’s no choice at all.”
XIII
NIGHT TRAVELS
1
The man had walked to the elven marketplace. For days and days, he had kept his distance. He had started to feel stronger, better able to control the impulses that had led him there so many other nights. For the first few evenings, after the time he had almost been seen, he had stayed at home, surrounded by family, and told himself that this was all he needed. All he wanted.
For several nights after that, he knew he had been wrong. He wanted what he wanted. It was wrong, he knew that too, but he couldn’t help the wanting. All he could do was not act upon the desire. That demanded strength of him, only strength. He was a strong person. He could do it. He could want, and deny himself, at the same time.
Having arrived at that realization, he had been better. For the next days and nights, the elf women and their human companions had barely entered his mind. When he did think of them, it was only to dismiss the idea of acting again. The acts he had committed, that he still wanted to commit, simply weren’t that important to him anymore. His family, that’s what was important. And to have one was to resist the other. If he gave in, returned to the bazaar and watched once again for elves and humans to go together into the dark recesses of the Hill District, then he might lose his family. If he kept his family, it would only be by losing his once-unstoppable lust to kill.
For three days and nights, he had believed himself cured. But then, he had chanced to see an elf female on the street, beautiful, tall and rangy, dressed in attire that showed off her curves and her long legs and her wild, unkempt hair, and he had looked at that face, a face that spoke of pure animal sensuality, and he had known he was not cured at all. He was as lost as he had ever been.
Since then, he had come to the marketplace each evening, before the day’s heat had entirely dissipated. This was when the elf females could show off what they had to offer, when night’s bitter cold had not yet forced them to wrap themselves from head to toe. This was the time of day when the bazaar became a marketplace of flesh as well as of goods.
On this night, a dry, chill wind tore through the alleyways, beating the market’s canopies like drums. The man watched as elf and half-elf women strutted and displayed, and males—human, elf, and other races as well—made their selections and went off with them.
His fingernails dug into his palms. His mouth was dry, his lips bruised from being chewed on. He wanted to act, to strike like a serpent of retribution. Of justice.
But he couldn’t. He didn’t dare. He had risked too much just coming back here. To fall back into that old pattern would invite disaster.
Back home, the other members of his family went about their evening’s pursuits. That’s where he belonged.
With one last look back at a particularly striking half-elf woman, he spun on his heel and stalked toward home.
2
The first night out, Aric thought the cold would surely kill him. In Nibenay, he had shelter at night. There were those early days, after his mother’s death, when he had been on his own, but even then he’d always managed to find some nook or hole to escape night’s full brunt. And since reaching adulthood, he’d had the shop, its forge heating it excessively by day but keeping the interior pleasant at night. On the long journey to Akrankhot, there had been campfires and the shelter of the argosies.
Out in the open desert, however, there was no shelter. The temperature started dropping as soon as the sun went down, and once the stored heat fled the desert sand and the nighttime winds howled, every step was agony. They had surreptitiously carried skins of water and their furs and leathers, the same things that had provided relative comfort on the road, from the argosy to a building near the edge of the city. Myrana and Sellis had their own things, carried with them since they had left their caravan. But even they had not tried to travel at night.
As soon as the sun went down, while the others gathered for the evening meal, Aric, Ruhm, and Amoni joined Myrana and Sellis and struck out into the desert. They didn’t know when Kadya might notice they were gone—possibly not until morning. Before that happened, they needed to cover as much distance as they could. Kadya might send a search party after them. It would not be a large one, as she wouldn’t want to spare the laborers. And since the assumption would be that a nighttime trek across the desert would surely kill them, the party would not look hard, or for long.
That was their hope, at any rate. Aric knew that Kadya’s mind was capricious, that she might decide on nothing more than a whim that there was no goal more important than finding them and destroying them, or else imprisoning them and taking them back to face Nibenay’s justice. For all he knew, her magic, or Tallik’s, might allow her to seek them out from the comfort of her own fireside.
So he trudged on, even though he was sure his blood would freeze in his veins. The bits of flesh exposed to the air, around his eyes so he could see where he was going, had gone numb, but not before giving him the feeling of having daggers driven into his brain. The fur over his nose and mouth had frozen where his exhalations had dampened it. His extremities screamed with pain, his limbs protested every effort demanded of them.
Once during the night he saw streamers of light in the sky that illuminated people he had once known: his mother, customers from her stall in the marketplace, children he had played with, even Rieve and her grandfather. They were huge, spread across the sky from horizon to horizon, and he was walking toward them. It wasn’t until Ruhm slapped him and shook him into consciousness that he realized he had been hallucinating.
He touched the scar in his eyebrow, but his hand and face were both numb, so he didn’t feel it. “Why did you hit me?”
Ruhm pointed toward the others, off in the distance, silhouetted against starlight on the top of a low ridge. “We’re over there. You were wandering off by yourself.”
Aric pointed toward the sky, but the streamers were gone, and so were the people. “I was … I was seeing things, I think. My mother was there. Rieve. Other people I’ve known. I was walking toward them.”
“Walking toward the dead,” Ruhm said.
“Rieve’s not dead!” Aric protested.
“You would be if I hadn’t noticed you weren’t following behind.”
Aric understood his point. He would have become hopelessly separated. They never would have found him in the dark, and by morning his trail might have been erased. If they spent time looking, they all might have been caught by Kadya’s soldiers. “Thank you, Ruhm,” he said. “It’s … it’s just so cold out here. I don’t know if I can go on.”
“Must,” Ruhm said simply. He led Aric to the rest. They huddled together for a few minutes, sharing body heat none of them had to spare, and then continued.
He didn’t think he had ever been so happy to see the sun rise.
3
After sunrise, they risked sleeping for a couple of hours. Then they started out again. They killed a greater boneclaw that day, providing them sustenance, although they could not make use of its carapace and had to leave it behind.
Every time they reached a high point, they stopped and checked their back trail. If Kadya had sent pursuers, the
y were not yet in view. They didn’t dare follow the path they’d taken to Akrankhot from Nibenay, because Kadya and her party would doubtless take that same route home.
Late in the day, they narrowly escaped notice by a monstrous sand worm, watching covertly as it slithered and burrowed and humped its way across the desert. Ruhm wanted to tackle it, but the others argued that they couldn’t carry its meat, tasty though it might be, in addition to that of the boneclaw they already had. And a sandworm was a far deadlier foe than a boneclaw. Should the five of them engage it, every likelihood existed that some would perish in the trying.
So the days went. Walking, always walking, under a sun that pounded down without mercy. After that first night, no one even suggested continuing to hike in the darkness. Their route took them through vast, sand-filled valleys and over the rocky ridges intersecting them. The creatures of the desert were either predators or prey. They fought when they had to or when hunger spurred them on, and hid when necessary. The journey was neither glamorous nor the stuff of heroic ballads. It was long and arduous, but it had to be done.
Amoni, Aric noticed, seemed out of sorts. When they fought the boneclaw she was right there with them, even delivering the killing blow. But at other times, when making camp for the night or deciding on a route, she was quiet, doing what someone told her but taking no initiative. Once when Aric and Myrana were filling skins at a spring they had found, high up on a narrow shelf of rock, Amoni stood nearby watching but didn’t offer to hold any of the skins even when they threatened to fall over the side. Finally, Aric said, “Amoni, could you grab these before they fall?”
“Of course,” Amoni said. She picked them up, but seemed not to be aware that she could have simply done so, rather than waiting to be told.
That evening, he took her aside and mentioned it.
“You’re right,” she said. She looked away from him, at the streaks in the olive sky where the setting crimson sun painted it. “I am accustomed to doing what I’m told.”
“But you’re nobody’s slave now. You’re free.”
“That’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”
“Only you have to act free. Aren’t you pleased to be owned by no one but yourself?”
She picked up a pebble, turned it over in her fingers, gazing at it as if it held secrets only she could detect. “It frightens me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve never been a slave, Aric. I can’t expect you to understand. I’ve lived their life according to someone else’s rules. It’s terrifying to realize that suddenly the only rules are my own. I … I am trying to accept my freedom. But at the same time, as long as you’re all here with me, often it’s easiest to just let old habits take over. I know you don’t own me. And I’m not saying that you act as if you do. It’s only me … acting as if you do. Acting as if I need you to tell me where I should stand or sit, what I should look at or not look at, what I should think.”
“They tell you what to think?”
“They try. That rarely works.”
“Well, you’re free now. Don’t forget it, and don’t let us spoil it for you.”
The next morning, Aric rose at dawn, starving. It had been days since they’d killed any prey, and their food stores had depleted severely. They had tracked a lirr pack for hours the evening before, but when darkness came and they lost the trail, they’d had to give up. Aric sat up, shoved off the skins he slept beneath. Ruhm, Sellis and Myrana were in camp, Myrana sleeping still, but Amoni was gone. “Where is she?” he asked.
“Gone when I awoke,” Ruhm said. “Hour, little less.”
“Are there tracks?”
Ruhm pointed to some, shallow depressions already being filled by blowing sand. They led away from camp and into the distance, but not in the direction they had been traveling. Not toward Nibenay.
“Would she simply leave us behind?” Myrana asked, sitting and rubbing her eyes.
“I … I don’t know.”
“She’s a slave, right?” Sellis reminded them.
Aric remembered her lack of initiative. She was accustomed to taking orders, not to doing for herself. The entire time they had been on the trip, he didn’t remember her ever coming up with an original idea. She was good at battle, good at self-preservation. She was strong and could carry great weights, in spite of her back injury. But when it came to making her own decisions, she had no experience. She had never had to do it. “She is. But she hoped to be free, and to live that way the rest of her life.”
“Apparently she’s free now,” Sellis said.
“She was free the minute we walked away from Akrankhot!” Aric snapped. “At least as far as I was concerned.”
“Perhaps she didn’t feel free, then.”
“Well, I wish her good fortune.”
“I wish she hadn’t abandoned us. We may yet have need of her.”
“I wish it too,” Myrana said. “I like her company.”
“As do I,” Aric said. He crossed his arms over his chest, but his momentary anger was made less dramatic by the loud rumbling of his stomach.
“Today we find game,” Ruhm said.
“We had better,” Aric agreed. They turned to the business of packing up their things.
But just as they were ready to depart, a figure appeared on the horizon, something with what appeared to be a massive head and shoulders on a body so slender it seemed it couldn’t support all the weight there.
It took another ten minutes before they were able to recognize Amoni, longer still before they could make out what she carried across her shoulders. It was a gray-skinned lizard with a colorful tail and a bright membrane around its neck—a lirr that must have weighed at least two hundred pounds.
“There are more,” Amoni said when she reached camp. “But I could only carry the one.” She ducked her head and heaved it from her shoulders into the dirt.
“You went off by yourself?” Aric said.
“I knew they were out there. We were hungry.”
“You saved our lives!” He went to Amoni and hugged her, hoping someone else would start cleaning and cooking the lirr while he did. Luckily, that thought had occurred to Sellis, and he was already busy. “I am so hungry.”
“I know we’re in a hurry,” Myrana said. “But next time we’re running low on food perhaps we should devote ourselves to finding more before we’re out completely.”
“There’s so much here that perhaps we won’t run out again,” Aric said. He knew even as he spoke the words that they were overly optimistic.
“We’ll run out,” Sellis said. He glanced at Ruhm, but he didn’t need to point out how much the goliath consumed on any given day.
“I suppose,” Aric said. He could cover the distance to Nibenay faster alone—faster even than the trip out, with the mekillots pulling the wagons at their slow but steady pace. Although only half-elf, he had still inherited some of the elven ability to run fast and with great endurance. Ruhm, with his long legs, could keep up with him for a while, but Aric would outpace him over any distance. And Myrana slowed the group down considerably.
But alone and on foot, the likelihood that Aric would survive the trip lessened considerably. It was not, he supposed, impossible for a solo journeyer to travel from point to point on Athas. But it was risky, and all the more so for someone who had not, until recently, ever left his native city.
No, his best hope was in staying with the others, praying that their head start meant they would reach Nibenay before the demon-possessed templar did.
If they didn’t, then they might never return to Nibenay at all. Aric had no way to know what Tallik, unbound and possessing a practitioner of defiling magic might do, but he imagined it would be violent and destructive. He had, in fact, wondered if the vision he had believed to be of the distant past had also showed the future. Although the Athas he knew was nowhere near as lush and serene as the one that had apparently once existed, it could still be unsettled, its institutions overthrown, whatever fragile pea
ce existed shattered in an instant.
And from the sensations he had felt—when Tallik had tried to enter his own mind, and when he had touched Kadya’s—he had no doubt that the demon’s essence was the purest evil.
Evil, and a savage hunger, left to fester beneath Akrankhot for centuries.
4
It sounds as if you’ve been everywhere, Myrana.”
They were lounging around a campfire. It was the night of Amoni’s kill, and their bellies were full. The day’s progress had been hampered by a wrab attack, three of the bloodsucking winged serpents hunting together, and although the comrades had defeated the creatures, most of them had suffered at least one bite. In the late afternoon they had spotted an oasis in the distance, and they had pushed on through the gathering dusk until they reached it and ascertained that it was safe to stop at. Filling themselves and their skins with fresh water, they made camp a short distance away. A fire, fed by downed branches and fronds from oasis trees, held off the night’s cold.
Myrana and Aric sat close together, and she had been telling him of her travels with her family’s trading caravan. “Not really,” she said. “I have seen much of the Tablelands, it’s true. But nothing beyond those, and there is much else to the world.”
“I suppose. It’s just that when you’ve never been anywhere, like me, even a few journeys seem like a lot.”
“You’ll find more adventure, Aric.”
“Do you think so?”
“I sense a need in you. Perhaps one that’s just been awakened, but a powerful one just the same. You have spent your life in one place, but now that you’ve tasted the outside world I don’t think you’ll stop exploring it.”
“You might be right.” That simple fact meant more to him than she could have known. He had his small circle of acquaintances in Nibenay, but most strangers he met were off-putting, distrustful of half-elves. For someone to accept him so readily—and not just accept him but seemingly to understand him—was a rare occurrence indeed.
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