The main horde of orlas finally made its way into the boulevard, just as the raft had drifted into the middle of the waterway. One of the more desperate ones tried to make a running leap from the edge of the canal, hoping to land onto the raft but its legs weren’t strong enough, and it ended up in the water, just a few paces away from the floating platform. Miri grimaced with hate as she saw the creature scream and struggle frantically when it began drowning in the brackish liquid, a part of her wishing it would jump onto the surface of the barge so she could kill it.
Chapter 22
Cinil scowled at the two men facing the forward deck of the pirate vessel travelling alongside his own. There had been several days of furious negotiations when Orilion had triumphantly returned to the staging area with both Zeren and a representative from the pirate Council, and a truce had been quickly formed. Despite their overall faction being stronger than ever, the chief of the Tooan still remembered the wrongs these raiders had done to his people.
Vorconis stood near the ship’s wheel, occasionally making small talk with the captain of his flagship. The powerful leader of the rebels noticed Cinil’s sullen mood near the side of the gunwale and strolled over, revealing a toothy grin. “What is the matter, chief? Despite the pledge these raiders have given us, you look more troubled than ever.”
Cinil threw a dismissive glance in his direction. “I cannot believe we have struck a bargain with the pirates. For their kind to suddenly become allies … it is disconcerting to me.”
“Come, come, my dear Chief Cinil,” Vorconis said. “The raiders are of a like mind to our cause now. They have always rebelled against the Maker, and when they had finally realized we have defied the wishes of the Exalted, they quickly threw their lot in behind us. Fortune is good to our side.”
“This is what troubles me,” Cinil said softly, making sure no one else heard them. “While it is certain we can defeat Wulfgen and the Khatun with our numbers now, there is a reason why the Khanate as a whole have never openly rebelled against the Exalted. Do you not recall the tale of the last tribe who did just that?”
“Yes,” Vorconis said. “The Pjutr.”
“And do you not remember what happened to them?”
“That tale occurred more than two hundred cycles before,” Vorconis said. “We were not even born then.”
“Yes, but every chief, every child, has been told of this story by every teller,” Cinil said. “We all know the legend by heart, for it is an object lesson should we ever dare defy the Maker and his servants.”
“I am not certain I even believe it,” Vorconis said dismissively.
“My great grandfather was the first to tell me of the tale when I was but a tiny youngling,” Cinil said. “He witnessed the event as a little child himself, and imparted upon me to make sure my own descendants were aware the legend is indeed the truth.”
Vorconis scoffed. “You expect me to believe the Exalted have their own fleet of sand sails unlike no other? And those very land ships belch forth tongues of flame and are unstoppable juggernauts that destroyed more than a dozen tribes who dared to defy them? The times I have seen the Exalted on a vessel is when one of our own sand sails offers them passage to come and visit the Khanate territories.”
“I tell you the Exalted possesses such weapons of war which are unlike anything we can imagine,” Cinil said. “When I became chief, one of the first things my father taught me was to never defy their commands, for in doing such a thing would bring doom upon the entire tribe.”
Vorconis continued to smirk confidently. “There is a possibility we may not even need to defy the Exalted. You must leave such undertakings to me.”
Cinil was perplexed. “What do you mean?”
The leader of their faction shrugged disdainfully. “We have not truly defied the wishes of the Maker, and therefore the Exalted should not take arms against us.”
Cinil gave him an incredulous look. “Are you mad, Lord Vorconis? Did we just not ally ourselves with the pirates- who are both sworn enemies of the Khanate and the Maker? And did we not give sanctuary to the leader of the Lethean expedition? Was not the boy who had been part of their caravan the one who is being sought by the Exalted?”
“The exact events are unclear,” Vorconis said. “The alliance with the raiders is but a temporary one, and it is not we who are giving the boy whom they seek any sanctuary.”
“So if this child returns with the woman, we shall give them over to the Exalted? Would it not cause a rift with the Letheans?”
“Perhaps it may,” Vorconis said. “But if we do this subtly, then we may yet succeed. In the end no one truly wishes to fight against the Exalted, and if we could somehow maneuver ourselves to hand this boy over to them without the other members of their expedition knowing about it, then it shall be as if we had no part in it.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
Vorconis suppressed the urge to laugh. “I have been given … guarantees. Our first task is to destroy Nuada and Wulfgen’s forces. Once our main enemies’ resistance has been broken and I am elected as the new Khan we shall begin a purge.”
Cinil raised an eyebrow. “Guarantees? But … how did you…”
Vorconis looked into his eyes. “Shush. Did you truly think I spent the last several days just pleading with the smaller tribal riffraff in these parts?”
Cinil’s eyes opened wide. “You … you met with the Exalted!”
Vorconis was about to slap him for blurting it out, but he managed to keep his temper in check when Cinil realized he should not have raised his voice. Both men turned and looked around, and it seemed no one was listening while they remained alone by themselves near the side of the quarterdeck.
Cinil looked down on the floor. “Forgive me, my lord. I was wrong to say such things out loud. I must admit the surprise was quite … unexpected.”
Vorconis had a more serious look on his face. “Keep this to yourself for now, chief of the Tooan.”
Cinil nodded. “Of course, Lord Vorconis. I am deeply honored you have made me privy to this.”
Vorconis kept looking around, speaking with a low voice. “I met with one of their traveling curates who had agreed to pass the message to the Exalted.”
“So the Exalted have not yet truly agreed then?”
Vorconis began to get irritated at his subordinate’s line of questioning, but once again he held his temper in check. “What the curate had told me is the Exalted will not serve to ally themselves with anyone for now. They shall wait until the result of this war is made plain. So our goal is to hasten the Khatun’s demise, along with the Zaash and their allies.”
“You must give me leave to revenge myself on the pirates once the first part is achieved,” Cinil said, pointing to one of the raider ships at the rear of the fleet. “One of my own sand sails- the Infogh- was taken by them and even now flies their colors. The wives and children of the slain crew are pleading with me for vengeance.”
Vorconis placed a strong hand on his shoulder. “Do not chafe and remain cordial with them for now. Once the time comes I will let you know, and we shall then exact a reckoning- but not until everything is in its rightful place.”
“And that one,” Cinil said, eyeing Zeren at the other ship. “He was to hand me an elixir in exchange for barter and he ended up travelling on the Infogh … and perhaps even led my men to the slaughter. Now he cavorts with the very same pirates and acts like their champion. I also want him dead.”
“In due time,” Vorconis said. “We carve a list on a telling stone and spill some blood.”
“We must be wary of him,” Cinil said. “My men have overheard a number of their pirate counterparts during the last camp.”
“Heard what?”
“That man is a Magus,” Cinil said. “He even uses the sword once belonging to Fumal Led.”
Vorconis narrowed his eyes while staring at the deck of the other sand sail. “Is he now? Well, Magi are not indestructible. They can be ambushed, po
isoned, even knifed in their sleep. A Magus bleeds crimson just like the rest of us.”
Zeren glanced over at the slightly larger sand sail traversing the dunes alongside of them. “It seems Lord Vorconis and that other chief is conversing about us.”
Orilion remained where he was while making a quick glance at the other ship’s direction. “Indeed? I wonder what they are saying.”
Zeren snorted as he instinctively reached into the folds of his cloak and felt the soft, lumpy clay he had placed around the glass tube containing the elixir. His leg was not yet fully healed, yet he somehow sensed it was best to conserve his healing potion, for he knew there would be more battles to come. “He is probably angry with me, for our barter did not come to fruition.”
Orilion shrugged. “There is no mercy in Lethe, why should we give anything freely to them now? Our sand sail and the crew are still being held by the Khatun and her allies. Until my men are freed and my goods and ship returned, they cannot expect us to follow them blindly.”
“I should have been there when those Exalted scum confronted you and Miri,” Zeren said. “If they harm one hair on the boy, I will cut them down like candles.”
“If it were not for the men guarding our sand sail, I would have led the crew on a quest to search for you,” Orilion said. “Miri herself wanted to find you.”
Zeren made a slightly scornful look. “Where could she have gone with the boy? We could have used her gift of Vis during the negotiations to determine if anyone was telling the truth.”
“Miri told me before we separated that Vorconis is trustworthy to a certain extent,” Orilion said. “But being a native of Lethe, my inclination is to trust no one. The sad truth of it is we have no power out here, and there is not much we can do.”
Zeren smiled. “I have the power of Vis.”
“There is but one of you,” Orilion said. “If I had a war party of Magi, then perhaps we could have fought our way out of these accursed lands, but for the meantime, we have to make do with the likes of pirates and rebels.”
“So what is the plan?”
“We should side with anyone who can get the ship and the crew back to us safely,” Orilion said.
“You mentioned to me Miri and Rion had gone with a sand sail to the wastes? Should we not reason with Vorconis or the pirates to search for them?”
“I am not certain what had occurred,” Orilion said. “They were supposed to have been taken to safety at one of Lord Vorconis’s holds but they never arrived, at least that is what I was told.”
Zeren frowned. “It seems it is better for me to trust the pirates than any other tribe in this land. Was the ship they traveled in accounted for in this fleet?”
“I made some queries, but the sand sail in question is also missing,” Orilion said. “At first I thought it had been waylaid by the pirates, but since I discovered you were with the raiders, Miri and Rion must have gone somewhere else.”
“Where would that be?”
Orilion rubbed his forehead. “As I recall, the boy did mention something about a being called the Keeper.”
Zeren raised an eyebrow. “I am not familiar with such a name.”
“Neither am I,” Orilion said. “The boy said this Keeper may be an enemy of the Maker, and it is why they were given a ship by Lord Vorconis to search for such a being.”
“If anyone is wise enough to find such a creature then it will certainly be Rion,” Zeren said. “You also mentioned to me a foul business that took place after you sided with the Khan’s son.”
Orilion nodded. “Yes, Lorrt and the chief of a large tribe attacked the Khatun’s allies during a feast. Took everyone by surprise and slaughtered a good many of them. That youth is treacherous, for he even took his own sister and her husband captive.”
Zeren was somewhat surprised. “Lorrt did that? I never thought he had the courage to do something of the sort. He always struck me as timid and only interested in drink. I have no respect for the former, but the latter is a virtue- if everyone were to be drunk the world would become a merrier place.”
Orilion hissed. “Drunken fools have brought forth ruin by themselves too. What makes all this even more precarious is the truth that Wulfgen’s son is dead.”
“Dead? But I thought you said they were taken captive.”
“They were,” Orilion said. “But Lorrt’s bond brother was seemingly killed during our flight across the sands. I have reason to believe he was murdered by either Lorrt himself, or one of Chief Cinil’s men.”
Zeren pursed his lips. “Are you certain of this?”
“Of course not. All I know is the poor man was brought up to the deck of the sand sail I was with just before the battle. A bit too convenient for my tastes when it comes to coincidence, yes?”
“So it means we are committed to this side either way,” Zeren said.
Orilion sighed. “Yes. But if you have a better thought on how to safeguard us, I would like to hear it.”
Zeren looked around. “These pirates- they are a rough people- but I believe I have come to understand their ways. Since you say the Exalted wishes to possess Rion, then we must side with the Maker’s most implacable enemies.”
“You do not believe the alliance with Lord Vorconis would last?”
Zeren shook his head. “No. These pacts are nothing more than temporary. I do not fear the battle against the Khatun, what concerns me is the battle that comes afterwards.”
“But if we throw our lot in with these pirates, how would it secure the crew of our vessel?”
Zeren winked at him. “When I first encountered these raiders, they seem to possess a healthy respect for any Vis user. All I have to do is to prove my worth to them in the coming battle and they should become trustworthy allies.”
Orilion remained unconvinced. “All is well and good if you could earn their respect, but these raiders have but few sand sails, and if Vorconis turns on them the outcome will not be in any doubt.”
Zeren chuckled. “Ah Orilion, you think in terms of battle between fleets of sand sails, but it is not what these pirates do- they strike from the shadows of eventide and are gone before their enemies have time to react. I worked the same way during my time in Lethe. Once I turn the tide of battle with the use of my mindforce, then the pirates would surely allow us passage to reach your sand sail and rescue the crew.”
“If you singlehandedly turn the tide of battle.”
“I shall do just that,” Zeren said. “Have faith in me.”
Chapter 23
The currents of the underground river eventually led the raft past the city outskirts and into a long tunnel. The smooth stone walls along the trench had the color of jade obsidian, and they gave off a greenish reflection as the murky waters all around them began to glow with eerie phosphorescence, even though the flatboat’s two passengers hardly noticed.
Miri was sitting beside the boy, gently stroking his hair. She did what she could, having bandaged the wound on his arm, but she knew it did little to ease his suffering. Rion’s forearm had blackened due to the orla poison, and the boy’s last words to her before he lost consciousness was to refuse amputation. Miri had thought about just cutting Rion’s arm off now since he was asleep, but she had a feeling it was already too late.
The boy’s eyes were closed and he was still breathing, a sure sign he remained clinging to life. Miri tried her best to sooth his agony by using her mindsense to block out Rion’s pain receptors, but the boy had begun to close off his mind for some strange reason she could not guess at. All she could do now was to whisper soothing songs in his ear, hoping she could at least alleviate some of the pain in his rapidly weakening body. Miri had been crying ever since she had brought him onto the raft, and in her exhaustion she could no longer shed further tears.
Having nothing else to do, Miri turned her head and stared at the ghostly figure standing at the back end of the floating platform. The hooded robes the being wore led her to believe she was staring at some sort of spiri
t. Miri’s throat was sore from her sobbing, and the voice coming from her mouth was hoarse. “What are you?”
The glowing form remained standing. “This is not my physical form. It is but a hologram.”
Miri narrowed her eyes. The words seemed unfamiliar to her. “What is the meaning of your talk?”
“Ah yes. It has been countless eons since I have conversed with a human. The figure you see before you is but a projection of light, for my true body lies elsewhere.”
She nodded slowly. She could not quite understand what he had just said, but it did make some sense to her. “My name is Miri,” she said, pointing to herself before gesturing at the boy lying on the floor of the raft. “This is Rion. Please, you must help him. He was bitten by one of those creatures.”
The form made a slight bow. “Pleased to meet you, Miri. I have had many names over the course of my existence, but I think it would be easier for now to refer to me as Xith.”
“Xith, I am honored you came and saved us from the hordes of creatures in this nameless city,” Miri said. “But I must ask you help my son here, for the venom of the orla courses through his body.”
“Ah yes, the orlas,” Xith said. “”They were once humans like you, but their existence ultimately diverged into a separate subspecies. The poison glands in their throat are but an adaptation of life underground.”
Miri gave out a sigh of frustration. “Your words are confusing to me.”
Xith’s form remained unmoved. “My apologies, much of the terms I use has been lost through time. I have not had any recent contact with the outside world, and therefore am unfamiliar with the progression of your local dialect. Even now I am speaking to you using an algorithm to translate your words back to my vocabulary archive.”
Miri got on her knees. “Your words are meaningless to me! I must save my son! Will you help me?”
Xith tilted his hooded head slightly upwards. “Ah yes. Your son will recover physically, for the nanomachines in his blood are both localizing and dissipating the orla poison as we speak. You need to give his body some time to heal.”
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