Wrath of the White Tigress

by David Alastair Hayden

  "I am not a great man," Jaska protested.

  "Three times we thought we'd found him but were proven wrong," Bakulus said. "Each of those times we still had doubt. This time, we have none. Even my doubting brother believes in you."

  "You are maddened if you believe in one such as me."

  "When did your mother proclaim this?" Zyrella asked.

  "While she died giving birth to us," said Caracyn. "Our father passed the tale down to us and saw that we were properly trained."

  "Accept them," Zyrella said. "Trust me, Jaska. This can't be mere coincidence, and the prophecy of a mother dying in childbirth can never be ignored."

  "Our service is freely given," Caracyn said. "We ask nothing from you in return."

  "The twins are good men," Tieros said. "I've sailed with them before. You won't find more honest, hardworking folk."

  "They are more than capable," added Daras. "I will have to add two archers and two swordsmen to my company to replace them."

  Jaska groaned in disgust. "Then I will accept your companionship, Bakulus and Caracyn, but you are not palymfar or my servants. You are merely allies."

  The twins bowed and spoke in unison. "That is good enough for us, Kharos Bavadi." Both, however, were already thinking that this path would lead them to something more than that.

  ~~~

  The Spindrift Cloud dropped sails and under the power of oars alone navigated the reef-infested waters. Captain Rohl maneuvered them without a single hitch, and they gained several minutes on the palymfar. The galley stopped as near to the beach as possible without risking a grounding. Sailors lowered the single rowboat kept onboard. They would have no time to retrieve the boat but must head out immediately. Jaska, Ohzikar, Zyrella, and the twins Caracyn and Bakulus tossed their gear into the small boat. They said their goodbyes to the mercenaries and crew.

  "They'll not waste any time with you as long as they can chase us," Jaska said.

  Sergeant Daras bowed. "Are you sure you don't want my men to guard you on the way?"

  "I think we need speed more than strength," Ohzikar said. "If it came to a fight the result would likely be the same with or without your men."

  "Guard the ship," Jaska said. "We'll need it again."

  Then he shook hands with Tieros Rowman and wished him well.

  Jaska climbed down the ladder after the others. They rowed to the rocky beach and then ran inland.

  Tieros told the captain to do as he saw fit in getting them out. He glanced once more at his departed friends, still amazed at the gift Jaska had given him, then returned to his place among the rowers. He was an oarsman, regardless of owning the ship. He would, however, claim the owner's cabin. As he began to row, he wished Jaska luck and called blessings from every god he knew.

  Ten minutes later, the two ships crossed paths. Under Adynarh's orders, the palymfar harassed the Spindrift Cloud with light arrow fire as they sped toward the beach, intending to ground their ship. They had pinpointed Jaska through the Shadowland.

  A palymfar arrow whistled toward the starboard oarsmen and neared Tieros. On instinct, he leaned back and the arrow's fletching brushed across his nose before the arrow thudded into the wood beside him. Looking at the arrow, an idea occurred to Tieros. He could do something to help Jaska. He left his partner in sole command of their oar and rushed to the captain.

  "Sir, turn the ship around. We're going to help Jaska."

  "Are you sure, Tieros?"

  "We can't take on those palymfar," Sergeant Daras added.

  "But they're not interested in us, right?"

  "That's true," Rohl said. "But they might change their minds if we attack them."

  "Aye, you're going to get us killed fighting palymfar," Daras said. "We're not heroes."

  Tieros shook his head. "If we can't do one small, noble thing with our lives, what point do we have in calling ourselves men? We must turn back."

  Rohl and Daras stood in silence for several moments, awed by the sudden power in Tieros's voice. Then Rohl said, "I see now why Jaska made you owner."

  "What's your plan?" Daras asked.

  "They're slowed from damage they've taken on the reefs. If we turn around and close on them, we can harass them with our bows, perhaps flaming arrows, and then ram them. They won't be able to turn around in time, and they won't be able to pursue us once we back away and retreat."

  "We may suffer losses," Daras said. "But damn me, I think it could work."

  ~~~

  Adynarh cursed as the first fire arrows crackled through the night sky and struck the deck of his ship. Sailors rushed to put them out while palymfar and soldiers returned fire. A few sailors and oarsmen died in the next wave of unlit arrows, but most of the fires were put out with little damage.

  "They're charging us, my lord," the captain said. "Shall we turn and face them?"

  Adynarh stepped to the side. An arrow sped through the space he vacated. "Can we beat them to the shore?"

  "I'm not sure, my lord."

  The attack was a clever surprise. They would have to choose. Either waste time facing this ship or pursue Jaska. Their enemy clearly counted on them taking Jaska as their priority. A wise assumption since he couldn't allow Jaska to extend his lead.

  "Full speed ahead, captain."

  ~~~

  As he scrambled up a rocky incline, Jaska looked back. The others took the opportunity to catch their breath. A trail of smoke rose from a fiery glow at the beach. One of the ships was burning, but they were too far away to tell which.

  Zyrella looked to Jaska with concern. "Do you think it's the Spindrift Cloud?"

  "I have no idea," he said. "I hope not."

  "You could scout through the Shadowland," Ohzikar said.

  "No, we rush on and trust that Tieros and the others are all right. If they've fallen, there's nothing we can do about it."

  Two days later, exhausted and covered with small bruises and cuts from rushing across the treacherous terrain, the group stumbled into a farming village. Fog draped the land, even though it was late afternoon. The crops grew brown and limp since the soil of Vaalshimar was poor and full sunlight scarce. At a farmhouse they bought a hot meal and what few meager rations the farm could spare. Zyrella asked the old widow who owned the farm if she knew how they could reach the Farseer.

  The woman spat and cursed. "Well, you can find her in the island's center right enough. Head on toward the mountains, two more days of walking, and find the old riverbed. Follow it north and you'll see a canyon that cuts into the mountain and becomes like a tunnel. Somewhere in the dark hollows, her people will find you. Gods rest your souls."

  Ohzikar asked, "Are they unfriendly people?"

  "If you can rightly call the Arhrhakim people. Not violent mind you, not when they come to us for trade. But trespassers aren't welcomed."

  "What sort of people are they?" Zyrella asked.

  "Don't rightly know. They come at night wearing hooded cloaks. Their voices are nearly growls and their eyes glow like those of a wolf. Fur on their hands, too. I can tell you no more than that."

  They thanked the old woman and marched on with dampened spirits.

  ~~~

  Adynarh and his warriors caught up with them in the canyon as they neared the tunnel. Jaska had observed their pursuers in the Shadowland while Zyrella rested. Once, he had spotted Adynarh there at a distance, but the palymfar commander had fled rather than confront Jaska. He feared what Adynarh's survival meant for Tieros.

  The jagged canyon walls closed in and cloaked them in forbidding shadows. What lay in the darkness ahead, they couldn't say. A magic barrier blocked scrying attempts within the hollows of the mountain.

  A palymfar arrow hummed through the sky, struck a rock, and skittered across the ground ahead. The group scattered and broke into a zigzagging sprint to avoid arrow fire. The soldiers continued to loose arrows while more than thirty palymfar charged ahead. Ohzikar ran behind Zyrella to shield her, or to pick her up if she fell. The palymfa
r closed to within fifty yards. Total darkness lay just as close ahead.

  Suddenly, Ohzikar grunted and tumbled to the ground, kicking up dust and rocks.

  Zyrella paused. "Ohzi!"

  Jaska shoved her on. "Go! I've got him."

  Bakulus and Caracyn hastily fired two arrows at the oncoming palymfar then flanked the priestess. Jaska lifted Ohzikar to his feet. An arrow had pierced the rim of the shield strapped on his back and had dug into his flesh.

  "I'm all right," the templar said. "It's not deep."

  As they ran into the tunnel, Jaska activated his darksight and spotted the Arhrhakim. At least fifty tall, broad-shouldered warriors in grey cloaks and armed with long spears and composite short bows lined the walls ahead. Another twenty stood in the canyon's center. Blindly Zyrella and the others ran on until Jaska halted them. He trusted that their pursuers would see the Arhrhakim and pause as well.

  "We come in peace!" Jaska called out.

  A warrior nearly seven feet tall, though only a few inches taller than the others, stepped forward. His voice was like a growl, his speech archaic and guttural. "You bring evil, Slayer, but we shall take you and your comrades to the Farseer nevertheless."

  Having stopped as well, Adynarh shouted: "We have no quarrel with you! We ask only that we may pursue our enemies!"

  "Unless you are fleet of foot," replied the warrior, "you will die for trespassing here."

  His comrades unleashed a barrage of arrows. Six palymfar fell instantly. Seven more died on their way out.

  "Give our guests light," the tall warrior said.

  A dozen lanterns sprang to life in the warriors' hands. The light revealed more about them. Fur did cover their hands, and a hint of muzzle was visible within their large hoods. A golden ankh with a crimson eye at the center hung from the large warrior's neck, which was bound by a golden torque. "I am Hyrkas," he said. "See to your friend, Jaska Bavadi."

  Ohzikar knelt and Jaska jerked shield and arrow away at once. Zyrella bound the half-inch deep wound. Caracyn and Bakulus carried Ohzikar's gear.

  "Follow," Hyrkas said.

  On tired legs they traveled deep into the mountain. The tall warriors made no sound except the occasional rustling of a cloak. A glow grew within the tunnel ahead, heralding a series of hanging oil lamps. A wall of iron bars with a central gate blocked access to the cavern beyond. There lay the fabulous city of Arhrha.

  Two massive, spear-wielding warriors flanked the gate. Neither wore cloak nor hood, only a simple loincloth. In general, they resembled a melding of humans and jackals. Rippled muscles lay beneath charcoal fur. Luminescent eyes flickered above their muzzles. Tall, triangular ears rose from their skulls. Their hands and feet appeared human except for the padding on their palms.

  Hyrkas ushered them forward. "Enough gawking."

  The guardians' eyes tracked them through the gate. Bakulus and Caracyn stared ahead in quiet wonder. Ohzikar shivered, feeling as if he were going into an ancient tomb and seeing things long buried and not meant for the light of day. Zyrella took it all in with curiosity and interest. Jaska was unaffected. He memorized details and analyzed threats. Wonder and curiosity could arise later when he had time for contemplation.

  The city occupied a giant, dome-shaped cavern. Lanterns burned on terraces and hung from walls and posts. Pathways meandered between fountains, statues, and gardens of strange slate-colored vines with violet flowers. Hieroglyphs in bright greens, reds, and gold decorated the smooth cavern walls along with painted reliefs depicting heroic scenes. Five balcony levels rounded the inside of the dome with passageways that led deeper within. Arhrhakim men, women, and children bustled throughout the city. Merchant stalls sat around the bottom edge. The scents of strange oils, sweet vine blossoms, and roasted mushrooms scented the air.

  Both male and female Arhrhakim wore white linen kilts. The men went topless, and the women wore simple bands of linen that wrapped across their breasts. A few wore jewelry with rubies and emeralds.

  "Stay together," Hyrkas said, "and speak to no one. You are the first humans allowed here within my lifetime."

  The Arhrhakim ceased their bustling and stared at the intruders. As the column of warriors and foreigners marched through their winding streets, they backed away to let them pass. Eventually murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd. Most seemed amazed, but some glared in hostility. Ohzikar and Zyrella tried not to meet such gazes, not wanting to antagonize anyone, but Jaska was unfazed.

  When they reached the opposite end of the dome, all but twelve of the Arhrhakim warriors broke away. They entered a small, guarded chamber and Hyrkas said to them: "You must surrender your weapons."

  "And if we don't?" Ohzikar asked.

  "You will not proceed any further. If we had wished to harm you, we would have done so long before now."

  One of the guards stepped forward and held out his hands. Zyrella surrendered her staff and a dagger. Ohzikar hesitated but relinquished his weapons when Jaska set his saber and bagh nakh on the floor.

  "Thank you for cooperating," Hyrkas said.

  Deeper within the mountain they went, climbing stairs and ascending upward-sloping passages. Mythic scenes and hieroglyphics continued to decorate the walls but the colors faded. Some scenes bore cracks and scuffing. A few crumbling sections showed recent patches.

  "These must be over a thousand years old," Zyrella murmured.

  "Three," Hyrkas replied curtly. "We are an ancient people."

  They came to an arched door of solid stone with complex sigils carved into it. Hyrkas placed his hands within two large triangles to either side and spoke a guttural command in his native language. The doors inched open with a grating, scuffing noise. The air that washed over them smelled like night-blooming jasmine and reminded Jaska of the Palace of the Hmyr in Kabulsek.

  Hyrkas folded his hands together and bowed his head before walking through the archway. Those Arhrhakim beside him did the same. Zyrella and Ohzikar stepped forward and repeated the gestures. Since the Arhrhakim seemed pleased by this, Jaska and the twins followed suit.

  Hyrkas guided them into a chamber lit by violet-hued luminescence within a large pool at the back. The gurgling of bubbles rising from the pool's bottom echoed through the chamber. The jasmine scent hung within a slight, wavering haze. Breathing proved difficult, and everyone except Zyrella, who was used to the mind-altering effects of laurentha leaves, began to feel light-headed and suffered from mild vertigo. Even the Arhrhakim appeared hazy-eyed and sluggish.

  "You have made it at last," said a wheezing voice.

  From the shadows emerged a female Arhrhakim with a stooped back and hunched shoulders. She was short and plump with large, sagging breasts and wide hips. The hem of her black robe rustled as it drug across the red flagstones. The black wool offset solid white fur that was visible only on her hands and on her face beneath the hood. A black scarf circled her head and covered her eyes, though the lack of sight did not seem to affect her. She wore bracelets and a torque of red gold, as if blood stained the metal. The Arhrhakim kowtowed. Jaska and the others did the same.

  "Rise, my loyal servants and honored guests." They stood on weak, shaking legs. "Who has sent you here to me?"

  "The White Tigress," Jaska answered.

  The withered lips along her muzzle curled into a wicked smile. "I knew, of course. But I must ask, eh?"

  The Farseer beckoned them to follow her and dismissed all but Hyrkas and two other guards. Around the dark pool she led them to a doorway hidden by an outcrop. Within a smaller chamber, eight alcoves stood along the wall and a low marble table like an altar sat in the middle. On the table were goblets, pitchers, and a plate of hard biscuits.

  The Farseer invited them to kneel with her. "Drink," she said, filling their goblets, "and you shall recover strength. This water restores those who have good intentions. It will also help you combat the pool's gasses. I swear that no harm shall come to you from drinking this water unless you intend to harm me. I owe the Wh
ite Tigress a favor and that favor I shall repay."

  "Do you know what has happened to her?" Zyrella asked.

  "Yes, and I also know that Salahn grows in power using the texts of Ylarras Kalazaar. In time he will dominate the Shadowland."

  "How long?" Jaska asked.

  "A year, perhaps two."

  Zyrella drank first. As the cool water passed down her throat, fatigue fled from her body. She felt as if she had slept for a full night. Unfortunately, she needed far more than that. She smiled and let out a contented sigh. The others drank, skeptical Ohzikar last.

  The Farseer motioned toward the biscuits. "Eat. You must be starved. There is nothing special about them. They are meager, but if you eat too much the gasses will make you sick."

  "Thank you," Zyrella said. "We haven't eaten today. We spent all our time fleeing palymfar."

  "I know this," the Farseer said. "It was a test for you to make it here on your own, without our help." Zyrella exchanged a nervous glance with Ohzikar. The Farseer laughed. "Little worry, children, in most skeins of the future you made it here."

  "The Tigress said you could tell me where I must go from here," Jaska said, eager to get on to business. "How can I defeat Salahn?"

  The Farseer tilted her head toward him. "Little bothers you, Slayer. You are not frightened by me at all."

  "The Tigress freed me. If she said to come here, why should I fear you?"

  "Ah. True enough and very wise. I can help you against Salahn, though not directly. No longer can mortal weapons slay the Grandmaster. Only sorcery powered by the blood of many, or the hand of a greater deity." Her voice dropped to a sibilant whisper. "Or white-steel…"

  "I have never heard of such a metal."

  "The ancient Eirsenda knew it and could forge weapons from it. Such weapons rest in the vault of the Keeper of Swords within the Temple of Avida."