by David Wind
Areenna joined Mikaal’s mind in the instant before he released his fire: the stream of flames shot upward and enveloped the falling creature. Screams of rage and pain blasted their ears as the monster struggled to stop its fall even as its wings began to burn. It twisted and screeched and tried to fly away.
“Again,” Mikaal shouted and released another wave of hellfire.
Caught within the sudden blast, the black apparition spun, not ten feet above the ground. Trailing sparks of burning feathers, the wraith flew upward and, as they watched, dove toward the waters below. Just as it hit the surface, it exploded in fiery shards.
“Ride!” Mikaal shouted.
Jumping onto their kraals and urging the big animals into a gallop, they raced toward the Landing. Their only means of guidance on the pitch black road was Gaalrie’s sharp night vision—their only hope was that the other two wraiths would not attack before they reached the safety of the Landing.
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While Areenna and Mikaal raced for safety, Roth held Enaid close. Her back pressed securely to his chest, his arms around her, his hands clasped together over her abdomen. Irii, the white gorlon lay next to them, her warm fur against Enaid’s legs.
It had been over an hour since the last attack, and the muscles of Roth’s thighs and calves were cramping from holding the same position for so long. But he had called on his earlier training to ignore the pain. As long as the black monstrosity hovered above them, he would do everything necessary to help his wife.
Enaid, sensing Roth’s pain, lowered one hand while maintaining the shield around them and pressed the heated skin of her palm to his clasped hands, giving him whatever energy she could spare to help soothe his strained legs.
“It does its job well,” Roth said when the cramps eased. “We are trapped.” The ground, in every direction within a hundred yards of where they knelt, was pock-mocked with small craters, evidence of Enaid having drawn rock after rock from the ground in preparation for the beast’s next attack.
“Yes,” Enaid agreed. “There is no way to reach them before morning.”
Anger bubbled within Roth. “Are you certain? If we could defeat it now, we could reach the Landing before they go.”
“We would not survive crossing the ruins at night. If we die there, then there truly will be no help for them.”
“So close.” His anger rose as her words filtered through his mind with a heaviness that took away his strength. Darkness followed, and despair spread through him. His eyes went distant and his body stiffened.
Enaid felt the change in him and recognized the danger immediately. Her protection, the shield she used to protect them, was physical to prevent the beast from reaching them, but, it did not hold back the dark emanations the black sorceress sent through its flying creation.
She twisted from his arms and faced him. Leaning forward, she grasped Roth’s face between her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. A moment later he blinked and focused on her face. “What?”
“Your anger left you vulnerable,” she whispered.
He took a breath and steeled himself. “Stupid,” he whispered.
“Frustrated perhaps but you are not stupid.” She touched her forehead to his. She released her hold on his face and wrapped her arms around him. “Hold strong, husband, we will do what is needed.”
Roth’s mind raced. There had to be a way to defeat it, but how? “How is your strength?”
“Good. What are you thinking?”
He explained his idea to her. She listened, thought it carefully through, and said, “It is a risk.”
“No more so than anything we have done before. Do you have enough strength?”
“Yes.”
He released her and stood. His legs were shaky, but he held still until the circulation returned. When the stabs of needles and pins faded, he exhaled a sibilant breath.
“I have been thinking about what’s happening now, and what comes when we get to the Landing.” She paused to look up at the still hovering creature and met its red eyes in challenge. “I believe that thing has but two purposes. The one is to stall us, to hold us back until it is too late for us to reach Areenna and Mikaal. The other is more basic. To kill us if it can.”
Roth’s teeth were clench together. “It may have accomplished the first, it will never succeed with the last.”
“Then let us be at it,” Enaid declared.
Above them, as if in answer to their words, the flying caricature of evil released a deafening scream and charged downward, its black form a nearly invisible streak heading directly at them.
A half-breath before the crazed wraith struck Enaid’s barrier, everything around them glowed a pale blue. From behind them roared the ear-shattering scream of a rantor.
“They are here,” Enaid whispered.
“Who?”
“Atir, Ilsraeth, and Laira.”
Above them, as she spoke the names, the wraith gave shrieking cry, spun in midair, and disappeared into the night.
Turning, Roth watched the three women appear out of nowhere and gallop toward them on kraals. When the three reached them and dismounted, Roth and Enaid greeted them warmly.
“How—” he began.
“Ilsraeth had a vision—a foretelling of this,” Atir said, sweeping her hand around them. “She came to Aldimor the day Areenna and Mikaal left for the Island.”
“We had hoped to make it here before it attacked… In that we failed.”
“Perhaps not,” Roth said as he looked at the four women, among the most powerful of Nevaeh. “With your abilities, can we not get through the ruins safely?”
Enaid’s brows furrowed. She looked at each of the others. “It has never been tried after dark—four women of power together—perhaps. What think you?” she asked them.
The bonds between the women were deep, a melding of hundreds of years of bloodlines; an even stronger blending of abilities created a unique kinship. As one, the women nodded.
“Many women have died crossing the ruins in the night, died before they could reach the Landing, but the four of us…and with Ilsraeth’s powers cloaking us, yes,” Atir said.
Above them, Atir’s treygone, black streaks highlighting its white feathers, swooped low to settle on the saddle of her kraal, while Laira’s aoutem, a silver and brown furred ret peeked a pointy head out from Laira’s cloak at the joining of her neck and shoulder.
Roth stared at the small furry animal. He was surprised, for it was unusual to see a ret—which reminded him of a small ferret—as an aoutem. But, he thought wryly, there had rarely been a day when something in Nevaeh did not surprise him.
Ilsraeth’s black rantor padded slowly to Irii. The two aoutems, natural enemies in the wild, sniffed at each other and then touched their heads together. They were old friends.
“Then, my ladies, we need to be on the move if we want to reach the West Landing by morning.”
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The haze floating over the road ended. There was but one twist left between them and the Landing. Mikaal slowed Charka and drew him to a stop. Next to him, Areenna did the same. The Landing spread out below them was clearly visible though shaded in darkness. Perhaps a few hundred yards wide and half that deep, it appeared to be made of wood and rock. There were no structures.
“Finally,” Mikaal whispered as he looked at Areenna, whose eyes had grown wide. “What is it?”
She looked to her right, staring off into the distance. There is something. I feel it, but barely.
The wraith?
“No. Whatever it is, it is not of the dark. Can you not sense it?”
Mikaal pushed outward searching, seeking, but sensed nothing. He shook his head.
She urged Hero forward in accent to her thought.
Mikaal followed, still trying to find what Areenna had sensed. When they rounded the final switchback and started toward the Landing, they were hit by a blast of dark emanations. Like waves of water rising and falling upon them, the force of
the dark power struck, not physically, but lashed out at their minds. Charka cried out and reared and Mikaal was hard pressed to stay on his aoutem’s back. Above them, Gaalrie shrieked and faltered in mid-flight.
Go! Areenna cried silently to her aoutem, telling her to fly to the Landing, while Mikaal fought Charka’s sudden madness by bending against the kraal’s neck and lending him the strength of his mind while at the same time fighting off the dark forces striking into Charka’s head. He felt his power grow and a moment later, Charka settled into a run.
Next to him, Areenna pushed Hero into a run alongside Mikaal. The last fifty yards to the Landing was a mad race while above them on a ledge in the high palisades the huge wraith emitted a deafening, rage-filled roar.
“We are safe here,” Areenna said after they dismounted in the center of the Landing.
Mikaal felt the difference in his head and in the air around them, which seemed altered from that of the wasteland. There was no scent other than of water—it was pure and clean and, as he filled his lungs, he felt energy flow into him. He stroked Charka, who nuzzled against him, a peaceful sensation rising from the kraal.
He looked eastward, at the hazy dark and misshapen Island and what lay ahead of them. “Until morning.”
CHAPTER 28
When the morning came, Areenna and Mikaal arose more rested than they’d thought possible. While they had been unable to see the Landing clearly at night, daylight brought amazement. The wood they had slept on appeared new. The surface was smooth and clean, reminding Mikaal of Bekar’s old highway, which had barely a leaf or branch upon its surface.
The only things on the Landing were two large bowls near the ramp connecting the Landing to the land itself. The bowls were filled with rainwater.
The Landing stood on rock pilings, five feet above the water, and was larger than it had seemed from above. There was a ladder on the side of the Landing facing the Island. It led down to a small skiff tied to a piling.
“How is this possible? The Landing…the boat?” He turned to look at the far end of the Landing. “And why is it so long? It makes no sense.”
“It’s kept this way, but by whom I know not,” Areenna said. “There are stories I have heard of certain places in Nevaeh that are protected by the spirits of women past, but those are old legends, yet….” Her voice trailed off as she thought of Bekar and how long her spirit had waited for them.
“Yet we must cross soon. Are you ready?” he asked, searching her face as he spoke.
“It is why we came,” she said with a lopsided smile. “This is where our real journey begins.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” she admitted, agreeing with the quickened pace of her heart and of the thoughts that had accompanied her waking. “But not for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Of what then?” he asked, already knowing her answer.
“For you. This has never been done before. It is…”
“Stop, Areenna. You have trained me, taught me how to use the powers I somehow have been given. I will not die there.”
Her stomach twisted. She longed to touch him—no, to pull him to her and protect him from whatever they would be facing, but knew she could not. “No, you will not,” she agreed, promising herself that no matter the cost, she would find a way to safeguard him.
They looked at the Island. The shapes they had seen within the reddish haze were clearer now. They were indeed structures—or had been in some long ago time. Crumbling badly, with ragged strands sticking into the air, some twisted even more than the metal of the wasteland’s ruins. From the distance, most appeared only a dozen or so feet tall, but a few, scattered throughout were as tall as trees, and looked like elongated and contorted fingers reaching skyward, seeking something far out of their grasp.
His senses told him these structures were as old as Nevaeh itself. “What is this place?” he asked.
Her eyes glued to the Island, Areenna shrugged. “What else could it have been but the dwelling place of the Old Ones who came before?” She paused, took a breath, and said, “I can only believe it is a place like one from which your father came.”
Mikaal looked at the Island again and a shiver swept across him. “Who would have wanted to live like that?”
Areenna did not answer, she could not. Instead, she pushed outward in an attempt to sense what might be on the Island. What happened startled her. She hit a solid wall. It was a block such as she had never encountered before. There was nothing there but an absence of everything. She knew, too, it was not the work of a sorceress, but seemed to be the Island itself.
She exhaled loudly and looked at the skiff bobbing gently in the water. “We cannot take the kraals.”
For the first time since bonding with Charka, Mikaal felt real alarm. He looked from Areenna to the kraal and then at the Island. “You’re right…even if we could get them into the skiff, it’s not somewhere they should be.”
“Let us make ready.” Going to their things, Areenna picked up her bow and slid the strap of the quiver over her head so the leather case rested on her back and did the same with the bow. She adjusted the leather tunic she wore, setting its thickly padded shoulders firm so the quiver and bow would not be caught on the material.
Mikaal would have preferred using a back scabbard, but the gift his father had given him was too long and he strapped the sword scabbard to his side. He too wore a padded leather, the top cut to mold to his body protectively.
Each added a knife to their equipment. “How long do you think we’ll be there?”
“I have no idea.”
“The kraals will need to eat.”
“Yes.” She went to one of the bags that had been attached to the saddle and removed the pouch within. “Your mother told me I would need this. It should be enough for them.” She pointed to the two bowls from which they had slaked their morning thirst. “Those will keep them well watered. You will need to have Charka hold Hero here. There is no gate to keep them.”
He followed her pointing finger and nodded. He went to Charka and, touching his head, pushed his request. His aoutem’s response was gentle and warm. He turned back and looked at the Island. “What of the wraiths? They will attack when we try to cross the water.”
“If they do, we fight. Is there another choice?” Areenna asked.
Mikaal’s mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile and said, “For us, no.” Then he walked to the ladder, one hand on the pommel of his sword.
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She had spent the night staring into the fire, sharing her mind with the wraiths she had created, taking over the tiny spark of their brains and controlling them, seeing through their eyes and manipulating everything exactly the way she wanted, the way her masters had decreed.
The sacrifice of one wraith had been necessary and, although she had failed to kill the two young ones, she had discovered something so impossible she knew her masters would heap rewards on her when they learned of it, for such had never happened before.
When the man child had joined the battle and attacked her dark spirit, it had shaken her. Throughout the short battle above the Landing, she had found the two impenetrable. The woman child’s defenses were too strong for the small wraith. But the final fight, when the man child released the fire, had stunned her. It was impossible! He was a sorcerer. Recovering from shock, she’d fought back, charging them, diving at them, her hatred boiling outward, raining black despair down upon them as she attacked.
The woman child’s defense had been very strong. The child had gained much knowledge in the short time since their battles at Tolemac. She was exceptionally powerful, but inexperienced. The black sorceress had laughed; the sound of it seemed to have been sucked directly into the fire, which had flared high before banking back.
Knowing the battle was only a delaying tactic, she searched for any weaknesses she could use later when she sent the one after them. The man child’s fire was a weapon as she’d never before faced. It was impossible, b
ut it was true.
Screaming in pain, feeling what the wraith felt as she occupied its black mind, she’d fled the fight and let the wraith be sacrificed. Then, she’d joined completely with the second wraith, which flew over the old ruins.
As it flew, she’d guided the misty specter in a search of the hated ones and found Roth and the witch halfway to the ruins. They were alone; no other women of power accompanied them. She’d smiled into the fire on the cave floor and directed the wraith to them.
This battle had lasted a long time. She knew well the woman Enaid’s defenses. She had fought against her in many battles. But in the midst of the wasteland, with no others to aid her, the witch was vulnerable and he was her weakness. She had attacked, time after time, only to be stopped by the woman’s shield. She’d waited, watching and flying above them, diving to test them.
After hours of attacks and feints, she had accomplished another of her goals. Roth and Enaid would never reach the Areenna and Mikaal before they took to the water to go to the Island. There, the two young ones would be exposed. There, they would meet their deaths and the hated ones would be unable to stop it from happening.
With one massive effort, this embodiment of evil, pawn of the dark masters, had sent the wraith in a final mad attack. But even as the massive wraith dove at them, she felt others join the battle. The woman Enaid’s powers were suddenly amplified and as the wraith struck, the shield glowed and turned solid.
Then three other women had appeared out of nowhere. The wraith hit the barrier and the instant it had, she’d turned the wraith and fled into the night, her anger burning deeply at this unforeseen failure. But, she had gained victory as well for they would never reach the other two in time.
She’d sent the wraith back to the ledge on the palisades to join the other one then slipped into the mind of her third creation and through it, had poured every bit of desolation and anger she’d been able to bring out at the two who were racing down the switchbacks to the Landing.