by M. L. Ryan
I thought I noticed Agnes roll her eyes, but I was more interested in an explanation of his statement than any potential problems between the two of them.
“Do tell,” I said, encouraging him to continue.
Prytx pinched his nose and mumbled, “The mind-talking is really unnerving.” He quickly shook off any discomposure he might have felt and forged ahead. “The luck came from happening upon a village that had the foresight to hide a stash of swords and arrows before they were raided. That provided a good base.”
“Why wouldn’t they use their own arms to fight?”
He dipped his head and looked at me through his lashes. “Uh, well, they’d heard about you.”
I let out a long breath. “Great. Like I don’t feel bad enough already.”
Prytx immediately appended, “It worked out in the end. They surrendered, so fewer of their own were harmed, and the weapons weren’t taken.”
“And the “you” part?” I decided not to dwell on how I may or may not have contributed to the success of Agnes and Prytx’s plans.
A wide grin bloomed across his lips. “Because I can make myself undetectable, I conducted frequent raids of my own into Jifga’s armory, removing small numbers of weapons each time. It took them weeks to realize anything was missing. Eventually, I started letting horses out of the paddocks. They noticed that pretty quickly, but I made it look like their fencing was inadequate, so they didn’t suspect thievery until they put two and two together with the swords. We were lucky again, though, because when they transferred men to guard the horses and the arms, there were fewer sentries at the jail, and I was able to contact Commander Kess and His Majesty.”
I finally realized why his new aroma was familiar; it was what I’d smelled when someone was lurking in the bushes around my pen.
I snapped my head toward Alex and Sebastian. “How long have you two known about this?”
“Since the evening after the raid at Bifido,” Alex admitted.
“And no one bothered to let me in on the secret?” I wasn’t sure what was worse, that no one trusted me with the information, or they’d just forgot to tell me.
Alex got up and stood next to me. He leaned in and whispered, “We were concerned about your mood swings, and I didn’t want to risk missing this opportunity if you happened to let something slip during one of them.”
“You thought I’d blab that kind of thing? Besides, the only people who understand English are right here. Who was I supposedly going to slip up to?”
He looked away, but Sebastian answered.
“We all learned Dekankaran quite easily and did not want to risk that one of Jifga’s hooligans mastered enough English to untangle our intent. However, we were less concerned about a verbal lapse than an inadvertent glance or unusual action. Under normal circumstances, we know you would never act in error. However, you have been quite unpredictable.
I snorted derisively—which brought on a fit of coughing—but he persisted.
“Blame me,” he continued, smacking my back to halt the hacking. “Alexander wanted to tell you. I convinced him it was better to suffer your ire later than jeopardize our carefully crafted plans whilst you were not in complete control of yourself.”
“Come on,” I argued. “I never did anything that out of character.”
“Well, you did call me a bottom feeder,” Alex offered with a slight wince.
I cringed inwardly at the reminder of my poorly chosen words. Much as it irked me to admit it, they probably made the right call. Not that I thought I’d actually provide non-verbal clues of our upcoming rescue, but I could understand why they might not have had the same confidence in my restraint. I had been on an emotional rollercoaster, both doing and saying things I usually would not have.
“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand,” I conceded. “I’m sorry I was such a raging harpy.”
As Alex traced his hand over my injured cheek and rested his head against mine, I heard Agnes mumble, “Like she wasn’t one before,” under her breath.
I pulled away from Alex and growled, “I heard that, bitch.”
Agnes stood up, fists clenched. “Yeah? I’m the bitch that just rescued your sorry, scaly ass!”
Sebastian dashed between us, using his outstretched arms to prevent an escalation of hostilities. “Ladies, please. Perhaps someday you two will be able to work out your differences, but this is neither the time nor the place.”
We continued to glare at one another, but he was right. Better to get my hands around her skinny neck when I had some. Besides, I felt like shit and when I did take it to her, I wanted to be at full strength. I backed down, and she reluctantly followed suit.
Prytx finished the story, but kept a cautious eye on Agnes and me as he spoke.
“Once we had everyone on board, except for you, of course,” he added warily, “we just had to wait for the right moment to attack. It also helped that most of the men were already dissatisfied with their circumstances. Half were given false promises of wealth, good food, and lodgings for their service, only to discover harsh living conditions and an even harsher boss. The other half were taken by force, and slaves don’t tend to have much loyalty to their masters. Your friend Hyattia provided the perfect means to make Jifga’s men easier to rout with his home-distilled swill. Most of them were drunk before we ever got here.” He grinned. “The jail guards even shared with their prisoners, thinking they could get as inebriated as they wanted because drunken inmates didn’t need close supervision.” His grin widened. “Too bad they didn’t know it takes more liquor than they have in the entire southwest to intoxicate a Courso.”
Sebastian smirked. “Good thing we all knew how to act as though we were three sheets to the wind.”
“Even so, we didn’t expect our mission would be as easy as it turned out,” Agnes chimed in.
“It wasn’t for V,” I lamented.
“No,” Agnes said, gazing into the darkness. “For her, it was not. She was a gentle soul, and she didn’t deserve to die.”
The deputy and I had disparate opinions about almost everything, but on that point, we were in complete agreement. “I almost wish I hadn’t killed the bastard, just so I could do it again, except slower and more painfully.”
Agnes regarded me carefully before she spoke. “I still don’t like you, but I like your style, Puff.”
“Thanks, Anus. I don’t like you either.”
Sebastian clapped his hands together. “Well, now that that is settled, we must focus on getting back to Baboquivari Peak to await the next electrical storm.”
While he, Ulut, and Alex huddled up to discuss our travel plans, Agnes remained with me. “All hostilities aside,” she grimaced, “you look like shit.”
“I feel that way, too. Hopefully, once we can get back to our dimension, I’ll be fine. Anything that ails me should heal when I transform. If I live that long.” It was winter, and it could be months before a good thunderstorm came through.
“I’m not going back,” she announced.
The revelation was almost as surprising as seeing her wielding a sword. “Really? Why the hell not?”
Agnes spread her arms and gestured around the camp. “I was born for this life. I love the action, the intrigue. Back in the sheriff’s office, and in the army, I was just low woman on the totem pole. I could work for twenty years and never garner the respect I’ve been given in the last months.”
“Is Prytx staying too?” If he remained, the sticky issue of how to prevent him from reporting to the traitorous faction of the Glyzimutitch Zolmere would be moot.
She sighed. “No, he wants out of here, and frankly, he’s not my type.”
He sure looked like her type when he was banging her from behind at Gera’s, but lust alone did not a long-term relationship make. Too bad, though. I wasn’t sure what Alex had in mind for him if he returned to Courso, but I didn’t think it was a pat on the back and an admonishment to keep quiet.
“You don’t
mind the primitiveness of Dekankara? The lawlessness?”
“Actually, I find the lack of technology refreshing. That’s why I spent those summers in Williamsburg. As for the corruption and criminality, that’s one of the reasons I’ve decided to stay. Defeating one asshole tyrant isn’t going to change much. I want to help the Dekankaran’s make something more of their world—where people don’t have to live in fear of being conquered, raped, or killed.”
“Or some combination of all three,” I suggested.
She nodded in agreement. “I’m not stupid, you know. I don’t think I can change the whole dimension, just this little piece of it.”
“Why are you telling this to me? I’d think I’d be the last person with whom you’d want to share your motivations.”
She gave me a thoughtful look. “Actually, I think you might be the only one who would understand. Sometimes, what we think we are, is not what we really are, or can be. It just takes a good kick in the ass to see the difference. This was my boot in the rear. Yours, I think, was when you ended up sharing your body with Sebastian.”
“This may be the longest non-hostile conversation we ever had. If you’re not careful, I might have to completely rethink my negative opinion of you.”
Agnes furrowed her brows. “Try not to be too maudlin, Parrish. I still can’t stand you.”
The twinkle in her eyes told me she might have been stretching the truth a bit with her last statement.
31
Two days later, huddled against the damp frost of early morning, we said goodbye to Elephant Butte and Agnes. She looked almost regal, standing tall and straight, waving one final time as we began our journey. The illusion faded somewhat when she gave me a parting, raised-middle-finger salute, but her sly grin showed that the gesture was more good-natured than malicious. Just like her to get in the last word—she knew I had no fingers to reciprocate in kind.
I lay in the bed of the same wagon used to transport us there months before, while another, bearing V’s shrouded body and our provisions for the trip, followed. Hyattia piloted mine; he and one of his friends volunteered to drive the wagons and return them to the Butte. Everyone else rode on horseback. Alex and Sebastian flanked my buckboard while the remaining Jyryxahal accompanied their fallen comrade’s. Prytx stayed up front, where Alex and Sebastian could keep an eye on him, and Ulut brought up the rear. The original journey east had taken over two weeks, but with fewer travelers and fervent impetus to get somewhere familiar, we made it back to Gera’s in one and a half.
Ulut rode ahead to announce our arrival and confirm we were still welcome. We worried our former host might have endured some sort of retaliation from Jifga for failing to report strangers and didn’t want to be even more of a burden. Thankfully, Gera was both ecstatic we had returned and suffered no deprivations for harboring us.
Z and W unhitched the wagons, unsaddled the other mounts, and guided all the horses to the barn for food, water, and a much-needed rest. Those tasks completed, Alex reintroduced Gera to me.
His reaction surprised all of us, in that he didn’t appear nearly as flummoxed as one might have imagined. Ulut had to explain twice that the oversized, sickly-looking, winged beast in the back of the wagon was, indeed, me, but once I sent out a mental hello and his gaping mouth closed, he recovered his composure almost immediately.
“He says he always thought there was something mysterious about us, particularly you, Hailey,” Ulut translated. “But he never imagined this.”
“Tell him, neither did I,” I said weakly. The last days bumping along practically non-existent dirt roads had been hard on me. Not that I had any other choice—there was no way I could fly. The wounds Jifga inflicted to my cheek and wing, while seemingly minor at first, hadn’t healed properly, and now oozed with yellowish pus. The stab wounds to my wing-pit didn’t fare much better. Perhaps more problematic, I feared, my breathing was growing more labored by the day.
Gera grinned at my response and began to look around at the rest of the group. His smile faded when he realized there were less of us than when we left.
The news of V’s demise hit him hard; he gently fingered the medallion she gave him as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. I’d always thought she was his favorite—all that time spent together in the kitchen, I supposed—and he insisted on interring her remains on his property. The Jyryxahal originally planned to take V back to the human dimension, and then on to Coursodon. Sebastian had some problems with this plan, as humans tend to be suspicious of people lugging bodies around, but the Jyryxahal had been adamant until Gera’s generous offer made it a non-issue. After careful consideration, they thought V would have liked to rest under the old, gnarly shade tree near the vegetable garden.
While the Jyryxahal took shovels to the garden, Gera began to pepper Ulut with questions. Their chat went on for quite a long time, and his cheery expression changed to concern as Ulut answered. Whatever the specifics, Alex and Sebastian soon entered the conversation, and all four men engaged in lively give and take. When they finished, Gera went into the house and Alex turned to me.
“We told Gera who and what we are and that it is imperative we get you home as soon as possible. He’s seen magic before—which, I suppose, explains why he wasn’t more befuddled when he saw you—and said as a child, he’d heard many tales of doorways to another world on Babo. He has never experienced anything otherworldly on the peak himself, but his mother swore spirits inhabited the mountain. He went inside to get something that belonged to her that she got from her mother.”
I heard Gera rummaging through drawers and slamming cabinets. Whatever he was searching for, it didn’t seem like he was about to find it anytime soon, so Alex and Sebastian leaned against my wagon while we waited. Eventually, Gera came back outside holding a small book. The leather-bound volume appeared ancient—cracked and worn—and the Dekankaran handled it with great care as he gently turned the fragile pages. About halfway in, he stopped and turned the book around so Sebastian could see it.
Sebastian raised one brow. “Astounding. Alexander, you must take a look at this.”
Alex complied, and his eyes widened as he scanned the page. He glanced at his mentor, and then shouted for Bex, who was still behind the house preparing V’s grave.
Wiping her brow as she came around the corner of the house, she listened intently as Alex spoke. Bex nodded and scanned the yard until her eyes fell on her saddle, balancing on the hitching post near the barn. She retrieved the pack tied to it, and digging inside, pulled out a compact ball of fabric. I immediately recognized it as the remnants of my pre-beast wardrobe.
She brought it to Alex, and as he held the bundle, she untied the surviving bits of my shirt that held the rest together. In the middle of the rags, she extracted the basket Billman gave me and handed it to Sebastian.
I remembered V had gathered my things after I transformed. Whether she was just being considerate in preserving the torn fragments or, like all groupies, wanted a souvenir from her idol, I was pleased the tiny gift remained whole. A wave of sadness crashed over me as I imagined her stubbornly protecting my things and keeping them away from Jifga’s larcenous henchmen.
Sebastian’s baritone pulled me from my sorrowful reverie. He spoke alternately in Courso to Alex and Dekankaran to Gera while examining the basket and the egg inside. Bex even joined in, also switching seamlessly between the two languages.
I’m completely challenged linguistically, I griped to myself. I’ve been in this dimension as long as Bex, and I can barely ask, ‘where’s the outhouse.’”
Overlooking my ineptitude at learning a foreign tongue, the sight of the egg elated me as much as the basket. I missed more than just the comfort it provided me when I rolled it in my palm, but also what it symbolized—my ability to persevere through the toughest of times.
“As soon as I have hands again, I’m going to want that back,” I insisted.
“Uh-huh,” Alex responded distractedly.
Miffed
that no one seemed to be paying much attention to my statement, I repeated my demand, perhaps a bit more stridently than I intended. However, my grumpy tone did have the designed effect of snapping Alex out his preoccupation.
He looked at me with an expression I hadn’t seen on his handsome face since I’d become stuck as a non-human.
Hope.
“Hailey, there might be a way to travel back without diverting lightning.”
He brought Gera’s book over to me. It was actually more of a journal, with written words instead of print covering most of the page. In the center was a meticulous drawing of a circle with a series of smaller, concentric semi-circles within it. Some of the semi-circles were interrupted with irregular paths leading from the center, almost like spokes of a wheel.
“It’s I’itoi’s maze!” I exclaimed. It lacked the stylized man character at the top, but otherwise, it looked identical to the pattern on the lid of the basket Billman gave me. “How did a Tohono O’Odham symbol get here?”
“I have no idea,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe their legend rose from Dekankarans using the portal to access the human dimension. Gera’s mother and grandmother believed the maze was actually a map to what Billman described as the anthill. And Sebastian is convinced Keem’s egg will help us find our way.”
The notion seemed a little far-fetched, even for Sebastian, the king of wild ideas. “What makes you think that?”
“Haven’t you noticed the stone pulsating?” Sebastian replied.
“It’s pulsating?” I sputtered. “It only did that when Keem was alive. Are you telling me that psychopathic bastard isn’t dead?”
I started to hyperventilate. Given my overall substandard pulmonary function and the paucity of gigantic paper bags to breathe into, I needed to get a hold of myself. I went to my happy place—the beach alone with Alex—and managed to quell my anxiety.