by Melvin, Jim
“Why have you come? Have you something to say? Or show?”
The eagle hopped onto the ground, turned away from Torg, and offered him its broad back.
“Will the others be safe while I’m gone? Will she be safe?”
As if in response, another eagle landed nearby. It was smaller than the first, with black eyes instead of green, but even so it was a formidable beast fully capable of protecting his friends. Torg nodded and then climbed onto the back of the larger bird, which sprang into the air and gracefully climbed several thousand cubits before banking southwest.
Torg caught a glimpse of Duccarita before the eagle carried him over the western maw of the Gap of Gamana. Wolves and other creatures patrolled the open plains. As he already had surmised, it would be nearly impossible for him and his companions to cross this portion of the gap on foot without encountering the enemy.
The eagle surged farther southwest, quickly approaching the eastern border of Dhutanga. From this height, the largest forest in the known world looked like an immense green blanket, its towering canopy unbroken as far as he could see—except for the Cariya River, which ran through its middle like a blue spine.
The eagle flew faster than the prevailing winds, covering vast distances. They passed over the heart of the forest and then spiraled downward until they skimmed the tallest trees, which towered four hundred cubits above the floor of the forest. The great bird of prey found a perch on the canopy.
Torg climbed off its back and knelt on a branch. Far below was a mile-wide clearing, within which clustered an army of druids as thick as swarming termites. Tens of thousands hummed in unison, torturing Torg’s ears. In the center of the clearing stood a single tree, taller than any he had ever seen. Druids poured in and out of an opening in its hollow base. It was obvious that this was the home of the druid queen, a bulbous egg-layer that ruled her vicious army with her psychic will. But it appeared she would not make the same mistake as her predecessor, whom Torg had slaughtered almost a millennium before. This queen was well protected.
Now Torg knew what many had long suspected. The druids had replenished their numbers—and then some. Jivita was in as much danger from Dhutanga as Nissaya from Avici.
The eagle let out a shrill twitter.
Torg climbed onto its back, and they headed southward, following the winding, frothy course of Cariya. They eventually left the forest behind and flew high over Jivita, where Torg could see a long line of civilians abandoning the White City on its way to the cliffs that lined the Akasa Ocean. The city’s guardians had prepared hidden havens on the rocky coast. Obviously the Jivitans believed war was at hand.
Then the eagle veered to the east and flew along the ancient road called Iddhi-Pada. When they reached Lake Hadaya, Torg could see a Tugar encampment on its shores. The sight filled him with hope.
From there, they sailed over Nissaya. The black knights, some two thousand Tugars, and the rest of the occupants of the immense fortress were hard at work in the fields outside the concentric bulwarks, harvesting lettuce, cabbage, carrots, and turnips in an obvious attempt to further stock their provisions. Instead of leading away from Nissaya, a procession of people, wagons, and pack animals moved ponderously toward the fortress, some already funneling into the first entryway. In addition to its army and citizenry, Nissaya could house, on a temporary basis, more than one hundred thousand within its walls.
The eagle turned northward, soaring over the eastern border of Java and eventually over Avici itself. To avoid Invictus spotting them, the eagle flew higher than a dracool, but even from this great height Torg could recognize the immense stone city and also the tower of Uccheda, which gleamed like a golden spear. With sadness, he saw that the army of Invictus—more than two hundred thousand strong and five leagues from head to tail—had already begun its plodding march down Iddhi-Pada. Torg guessed it would take nearly three weeks for the entire host to journey from Avici to Nissaya.
The eagle soared westward, passing over Lake Ti-ratana and then the snow-covered peaks of Mahaggata before landing on a frozen summit as desolate as Asubha. Crimson smoke drifted from the maw of a cave. Torg knew, without being told, that Bhayatupa lurked within.
They continued on, and for a brief moment a raven accompanied them, squawking and fluttering, but it was unable to match their speed. It dove away and vanished.
Soon they returned to the waterfall, but before landing, the eagle made one last sweep over Duccarita, which lay just a few leagues to the west. Three sides of natural granite bulwarks a thousand cubits tall encased the City of Thieves. The eagle landed on top of one of the walls.
Torg climbed off the eagle’s back and knelt to watch the activity far below. A new batch of slaves had arrived from the west, carried over the ocean by sea-masters who served the pirates. Odd-looking, pink-skinned creatures were being forced to hobble down into roofless pens that offered little protection from the elements.
A familiar voice startled Torg.
“There is help for you there.”
He turned slowly, and what he saw did not surprise him. The eagle had transformed into Jord, whose long white hair swirled in the winds that swept along the battlement of the granite bulwark. She looked beautiful in a white gown conceived of magic.
“Who are you, really?” he said. “What are you, really?”
“Have you not already surmised, Torgon?” she replied, her expression momentarily mischievous. But then she grew serious. “I have traveled far and wide. Not long ago, I even visited the snow giants, of whom you are familiar. But as to who or what I am, I am best described—in your comprehension—as a watcher, though some call me Faerie.”
“Why do you watch? And for whom?”
“I am not permitted to elaborate. It must suffice to say that the ascendance of Invictus has raised concerns among my kind.”
“If Invictus worries you so much, why don’t you and your kind destroy him?”
“I cannot. We cannot . . . that’s why we’re concerned.”
“If he’s too great for you, he’s too great for me.”
“Do not underestimate yourself, Torgon,” Jord said, and then to his surprise, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I . . . we . . . surpass you in some ways. But our ability to destroy might not be as great.”
“Do I take that as a compliment?”
“You are admired . . . in high circles. You can take that as a compliment.”
Torg smiled and then looked down at Duccarita, pointing a finger toward the pink-skinned slaves. “They can help? Tell me how.”
“The slaves are not as weak as they appear. But there is an evil within the city that holds great sway over them, rendering them impotent. Eliminate that evil, and you will have a powerful army at your disposal—with a general already in place.”
“A general?” Torg said, but when he turned back to Jord, the eagle had reappeared and again beckoned him to climb onto its back.
At dusk, they landed at the waterfall just in time to witness a commotion. In addition to the eagle that had remained to guard Torg’s companions, six others were perched in various places near the overhang. Ugga and Bard—their hair, beards, and clothes dripping wet—stood outside the rock shelter and eyed the birds distrustfully. The crossbreed bore his axe and Bard his bow, an arrow nocked in place. Laylah and the rest were a few paces behind.
Torg dismounted and strode toward them. “Desist! These creatures are our friends.”
Rathburt was the first to respond. “Nice of you to drop in, Master Showoff. I’m glad to see you’ve finally chosen to return from your latest round of gallivanting. Did you have fun while you were gone?”
THE RAVEN huddled in the rotting trunk of a dead tree, watching the proceedings with interest. Just a short time ago, she had caught a glimpse of Torg and the Faerie as they flew. Then she’d briefly winked out of the physical world before appearing near the waterfall to await the wizard’s return. From her hidey-hole, Vedana had watched six of the mountain
eagles—longtime allies of the Faerie—land on the tumbled boulders and join the one who guarded Laylah and the others.
While the goody-goody wizard talked to his companions, the Faerie had stood off to the side, choosing to remain in the form of a mountain eagle, but not bothering to conceal the unusual color of her eyes. As a fellow shape-shifter, Vedana slyly noticed this faux pas. When Vedana assumed an identity—whether human, animal, or plant—she tried to get it just right, out of pride if nothing else, though she admitted to herself that she hadn’t fully mastered the raven incarnation. Her beak still moved woodenly when she spoke.
The presence of the Faerie made Vedana uneasy. No matter what it called itself—Bhojja, Jord, Sakuna, or a host of other names—it always seemed to cause some sort of trouble. Vedana’s carefully laid plans to dethrone Invictus and crown a new Sun God were anything but certain to succeed. If she made the slightest mistake, her schemes would collapse. To make matters worse, the Faerie kept poking her nose, muzzle, or beak where it didn’t belong.
Though the Faerie had roamed the wilds of Triken even before Bhayatupa was born, Vedana didn’t believe that Jord’s powers were any greater than hers. But her persistence was wearisome, to say the least. Whenever Vedana ventured into the physical world, the Faerie seemed to be there . . . watching intently. Over the eons, Vedana had found this extremely annoying, especially when she had so recently learned that it was the Faerie who had removed her demon poisons from Torg’s body.
When Vedana attempted to pinpoint the source of the Faerie’s magic, the only thing she could discern was a strange kind of buzzing—as if its powers originated from an invisible place beyond even Vedana’s awareness. Still, the Faerie seemed able to tap only small amounts of this mysterious energy, which suited Vedana just fine. One Invictus was enough, thank you very much.
For Vedana’s plan to succeed, several things needed to occur. The most important was making sure that Torg and Laylah remained alive and free. Another was arranging matters in such a way that the armies of Avici, Jivita, Nissaya, and Anna were decimated.
Sigh. It was so difficult to keep everything in order.
Vedana watched the Faerie shift shapes and become the white-haired woman, robes of woven magic covering her body. The bear-man rushed over and hugged her, tears bursting from his beady eyes.
Several times over the past few days, Vedana had attempted to enter the minds of Torg’s companions. As expected, Laylah was far too strong. Unexpectedly, so were the others. But Vedana wasn’t overly concerned. Possession demanded too much energy to make it worthwhile, anyway. Even the obese Kamupadanan innkeeper had put up a respectable fight.
A commotion below caught her attention. Vedana cocked her head and listened.
“Jord, ya have come back,” the bear-man was shouting. “Me love, where have ya been? I has missed ya so much.” And then he dropped to his knees and wailed like a baby.
“I missed ya too,” the handsome one named Bard said. “I loves ya, I does.”
“I’m sorry I left ya for so long,” Jord said, mimicking the dialect of northern folk, which some of the the pirates and slave traders of Duccarita also spoke. Then, much to Vedana’s relief, Jord reverted to the common tongue. “But I had important things to do.”
“Are ya going to stay with us now?” the crossbreed said.
“I will stay for a while,” Jord said. “There’s something that needs to be done, and you will need my help.”
What are you cooking up now, you meddlesome bitch? You are such a pain in the . . .
Suddenly, Vedana noticed a subtle but invasive surge of magic floating down from above, like a shimmering blanket. Invictus was at it again, using the art of scrying in an attempt to locate Laylah. Vedana quickly spread a shroud of mist over all of them, clouding the sorcerer’s vision. Though her grandson was supremely powerful in most ways, some of his psychic abilities remained relatively crude, making it possible for her to deflect his scattered searches. She had veiled Mala’s battle with Bhayatupa, as well. But the sorcerer was improving, which made it more and more difficult to delude him.
Must she do everything for everyone? If not for her, Invictus would have found Torg and Laylah already. And if that happened too soon, Vedana would be doomed.
Then she had another frightening thought. What if Jord and the pesky eagles offered to fly Torg and Laylah to some far-off hiding place? That would foul up Vedana’s schemes. Maybe even ruin them for good. What should she do?
Hmmmmm. Bhayatupa might prove useful. The great dragon enjoyed eating mountain eagles almost as much as dracools.
3
BY THE TIME they were prepared for flight, the rising moon waned gibbous in the evening sky. Just before dusk they had eaten a cold meal, finishing off what remained of their meager provisions while listening to the white-haired woman discuss her plan to enter the City of Thieves. At first, the others had been stunned. But Jord insisted that the fate of Triken hung in the balance.
Laylah paid close attention to everything the woman said. Though she felt stronger than she had in weeks, she continued to depend on Obhasa to feed her a consistent supply of energy. With Torg wielding the Silver Sword, it made sense for her to retain possession of the wizard’s ivory staff.
During what remained of the afternoon, they sat in the rock shelter and listened to Torg describe what he had witnessed earlier that day during his flight with Jord. While Jivita and Nissaya prepared for siege, the vast army of Avici had begun its march. By mid-spring, the world would be at war. No ordinary army could breach the walls of Nissaya, but the army Mala led was anything but ordinary. And with the druids gathering to assail Jivita, the White City would be in no position to aid the black fortress.
Amid the gloom were tidbits of hope.
Jord leaned forward and told them a story that even Laylah found fascinating. The white-haired woman—whomever or whatever she was—claimed to have been many places, including the other side of the Akasa Ocean, where she said there was a forest that dwarfed even Dhutanga in scope. Within this behemoth of trees lived a peace-loving community of intelligent creatures called the Daasa, which communicated with barks, squeals, and whistles instead of words. The trees in this strange land were a different species than any east of the ocean, bearing fleshy nuts and fruits that were the Daasa’s main source of food. Like the druids of Dhutanga, the Daasa were shepherds of the woods. They also resembled the druids in the way they interrelated, moving about in massive, single-minded droves. But unlike the murderous druids, they were kind and gentle.
“I don’t mean to sound crude,” Rathburt said, “but if they are so kind and gentle, how can they help us?”
“That’s only part of their story,” Jord responded. “When they get angry or scared, they can wield great power.”
“What kind of power?” Laylah said with a touch of irritation, not appreciating how near the woman sat to Torg.
If Jord sensed Laylah’s jealousy, she didn’t show it. “When they get angry . . . they change.”
“Huh?” Rathburt said.
“They become the opposite of what they are,” Lucius said, surprising Laylah and the others.
“How do you know this, firstborn?” Torg said.
“I’ve seen it myself, in the torture chambers of Invictus. Whenever he scheduled one of his infamous bloodbaths in the stone arena beneath Uccheda, the king loved to include the Daasa among the victims. When tortured, they made heartrending sounds, which tantalized Invictus and the monsters.
“Most often, the Daasa put up little fight. But one time, I witnessed a much different occurrence. One of the pitiful creatures began to change in a way that reminded me of a Warlish witch. But instead of transforming from beautiful to ugly, the Daasa changed from harmless to monstrous. Thorny spikes rose from its soft flesh; fangs erupted from its mouth; claws sprang from its toes. The beast growled like a rabid wolf and then leapt upon a vampire, ripping it to shreds. Several more monsters were slain, including a cave troll,
before Mala managed to kick it to death.
“I have never seen Invictus laugh so hard. But no one else was amused. Including me.”
Lucius’ story amazed Laylah. She remembered him saying once that he’d seen things beneath Uccheda that were every bit as terrible as what she’d suffered above. Now she understood a little better what he’d meant.
Rathburt spoke next. “If these Daasa are so dangerous, why would they help us? It sounds as if their transformations turn them into mindless beasts.”
“Like the druids, the Daasa are of a single mind and can be commanded by a single will,” Jord said. “An evil resides within the City of Thieves that renders them impotent. The Daasa consider this being an abomination, but its psychic power is too great to resist, reaching across the ocean itself. If this evil is eliminated, the Daasa’s long-suppressed rage will rise to the surface, eager for vengeance.”
“These Dah-sah are very scary,” Ugga said. “I is not sure I likes them one bitsy.”
“In these dire times, we must seek allies wherever they might be,” Torg said. “If Jord says this venture is crucial, I believe her. Tonight we must fly to Duccarita on the wings of eagles and slip over its stone walls like shadows. Even within the city, we are not without friends. Jord knows of a haven. Once there, I will seek to destroy the evil of Duccarita.”
Laylah squeezed Torg’s thigh. “You won’t be alone,” she said, looking at Jord to make sure she knew to whom the wizard belonged. “I’ll be with you.”
“So will Elu,” the Svakaran said.
Ugga and Bard agreed. Even Lucius nodded.
Rathburt only rolled his eyes.
LUCIUS FOUND flying on the back of a mountain eagle far more peaceful than clinging to a dracool. The birds of prey, though not quite as large as baby dragons, carried their riders with more grace. All in all, it was a pleasant experience. He wondered if the eagles enjoyed it as much as he. Or did flying become as mundane as walking to such creatures?