The Noyan shrugged. “Not yet. We have sufficient for one, perhaps two weeks. But this may be the last hold for some time.”
N’tombe nodded. “Very well.”
“Race you!” Will called to the Noyan. He touched his heels to his horse’s flanks. “Hey! Hi-Yip!”
The horses, ears pricked and eyes alight, cantered smoothly over the blowing grass. It felt like flying! On such a morning anything seemed possible. They would rescue Dana, they would destroy the Emperor, and he and Dana could be together.
Hair blowing in the wind, TeSin galloped beside him. His bright eyes laughed. “Hi!” he called. “You slow.”
“What!?” Will leaned forward, lowered his hands. “Come on girl!” The mare, catching his mood, stretched her neck forward, and broke into a gallop. The two men raced, neck and neck across the plain. The air smelled fresh and alive and their breath steamed in the cool air, trailing behind them like smoke.
When they reached a stream they pulled up, laughing.
“I win.” TeSin stroked his mare’s neck approvingly.
Will laughed. “You wish!” He waved at N’tombe. “Come on!”
The enchantress was far behind them. Will let the reins slide free. The mare walked quietly to the clear stream and began to drink. “Lady?” he called. “Is everything all right?”
N’tombe had stopped in the middle of the plain. She cupped a hand behind her ear, as though listening. Again, Will heard a faint whisper, a half-played melody.
TeSin looked puzzled. “Is something wrong?”
N’tombe kicked her horse forward, but hesitantly, as though troubled. TeSin, glancing at Will, lifted his bow from its saddle hook. Will loosened his blades. What had she seen? The morning seemed unchanged: beautiful, carefree. Above, eagles spiraled into the air, their voices harsh against the empty sky. TeSin watched them soaring. His face seemed troubled.
“Something comes,” he murmured.
But save for the town, the plain seemed empty. A league or so to the east, the town lay peacefully enough behind stout wooden walls. Wind-blown smoke from its many chimneys trailed gray-brown across the plain. The world felt unnaturally quiet. It was like the moment of stillness before a storm strikes.
High above, the eagles cried. N’tombe shouted, her voice merging with the cry of the birds. And then came the noise.
For the rest of his life, Will remembered the sound. The half-heard whispering song, exploding free. It was like being hit by a tidal wave. His horse neighed and reared, front legs pawed the air. He clutched the saddle. What was that? Will shouted; his bones ached. For a moment, the sound was so loud he could barely see.
The world was breaking.
N’tombe’s horse set off at a dead run across the plain. She pulled frantically at her reins, tried to slow the animal. TeSin leapt into his saddle, went to follow her, but Will’s horse wouldn’t move. He couldn’t blame the animal; the noise was deafening! Still crouched in the saddle, Will held his hands over his ears and tried to muffle the roaring.
“Earthquake!” shouted N’tombe.
The ground shook, moving like a bed sheet. The movement went on and on and on, as though there would be no end. Will threw himself from the saddle as the earth swayed. For a strange moment, it felt like being back on the boat. The song grew and grew, cascading upwards into waves of raw power as the ground shook, until, with a groan, the earth broke open. Cracks formed, large enough to swallow a man.
His horse’s eyes were wild. Will held grimly to its reins. He didn’t want to be left on this godforsaken plain without a mount. There was nothing to do but wait for the moment to pass.
Finally, the earth began to calm, the tremors weakened, and the travelers clustered together. Reaching N’tombe, TeSin took the reins from her. With the other hand he stroked his mount’s neck, calming it. They turned and slowly walked their nervous horses toward Will.
“Enchantress?” Will said, when they reached him. “Are you well?”
She shook her head. “That was …” She paused. “That was …”
As though in answer, the earth trembled again. They froze, waiting. But this shake was not as strong as the last. Afterwards, Will lay across his horse’s neck, enjoying the comfort of its smell, its thick coat. The horse huffed at him, but seemed to appreciate his attention.
Just breathe, Will thought. Just breathe. Then, struck by a sudden thought, he sat upright. “Is this the work of the Kamaye?” If the Kamaye could control the very earth, who knew what else they could do?
TeSin looked questioningly at N’tombe, but she shook her head. “Not even the Kamaye could do this.”
Will’s small mare mouthed at the bit. They rode slowly to the town as the earth rumbled like an anxious dog. Their horses shuddered at any movement, and shied from the deep cracks in the ground.
Will felt a sudden need to talk about his experience. “I’ve never been in an earthquake before.”
TeSin, holding the packhorse’s leading rein, looked surprised. “Never?”
“You’ve experienced this often?”
“Often enough.”
How could people live in a land that was never still? Some folk were plain crazy, that was certain. Him, he would move.
As they neared the town, Will saw that the previously stout walls were split with wide cracks and behind the wall, the buildings lay broken. Houses lay open to the sky and spars of wood stuck out like bones. Dust filled the air.
In the distance, he heard faint screams. “We should help.”
TeSin shook his head. “We must press on.”
“But …” There was another shake, gentler this time, but the dust cloud around the village seemed to grow. “There are people dying.”
“No!” N’tombe said sharply. “We must continue.” Looking about them, she seemed to take in the ruined village, and the snow-covered hills beyond. “Time is short. We must go.” Without pausing for argument, she turned her horse east, toward the mountains. TeSin followed, but Will hesitated, glancing at the village.
“Will!” she called. “Come!”
Guiltily, Will set off after his companions.
Chapter Seven
After The Earthquake
Shattered roof tiles and stones from half-intact walls littered the courtyard below. Bodies lay still, broken like the stonework. The silver fountain had fallen over, and lay twisted in the cracked pool; save for a few puddles, most of the water had leaked out. I stared at the fountain blankly; the crack across the base should mean something, but what? Shaking my head, I tried to focus. This all felt unreal. People wandered, dazed and silent, among the rubble.
I heard the next shake coming before it struck; a roar like thunder. I crouched at the window, waiting. Then the ground shook, and shook again. Below, people fell like nine-pins, like wheat before the scythe and slowly, almost elegantly, a building on the far side of the courtyard split apart. Tiles fell from its roof; a cloud of dust rose upward. A child wailed, a high-pitched echo, and the sound merged with the thud of the fall creating a dark, unceasing noise.
When the dust cleared, I could see the inside of the building, open and exposed. Floors and walls and furniture: other people’s lives.
My door rattled as the serving girl shoved my door open. The doorframe had twisted in the quakes, so she had to push hard. Seeing me her shoulders relaxed, as though she’d thought I might have escaped, and she proffered me a bowl of food. An earthquake had just torn her city apart, and still she brought me food! She seemed confused by my laughter.
The earth groaned again and abruptly I stopped laughing. Another shake was coming!
“Get down!” I called.
Her eyes widened; she turned to run, but the ground shook, and she fell. The bowl crashed to the ground, scattering rice.
“Now!” said Wynne, urgently. “Run!”
I leaped for the open door. The girl’s dark eyes blazed with fury and … could it be excitement? The change was so dramatic I froze, despite the earth�
��s shuddering and the creaking of the building. Rolling onto her back, she thrust her feet into my belly. I gasped, and slid on the rice grains. Oh, but she was strong! I had thought she was just a servant – what a fool I was! She was more than a servant; she was a guard.
Her sleeves fell back, exposing her arms. A black dragon snaked its way up her forearm, toward her shoulder.
Stop it! Adianna said sharply. Fight!
I felt weak from hunger and the effects of the drugs, and the earth was still shaking. Masonry fell; the tower quivered. I got unsteadily to my feet, and lifted my arms in a guard position, and for the first time I saw her smile. She scrambled to her feet, kicked up at my head. I saw the kick coming, swayed backwards.
“Help!” I called to the souls inside me, but they were silent, and I remembered there were more guards on this tower than just this girl.
I ducked right, and seeing an opening, kicked upwards, into her breastbone. At the last moment I pulled back; didn’t want to kill her.
“Oof!” She collapsed sideways.
I feinted another punch and jabbed, left-right to her head. Hard, hard, hard. She fell on her side. Asleep on the floor, she looked so young. Her hair swung free of her face. I checked her pulse; she would live. I’d never fought another female. I would liked to have trained with her.
Well done, said Adianna.
“Shut up.” I felt like my old self now.
I slid open the door. The two guards lay in pools of blood. It seeped slowly from their nostrils, their ears.
“Did you did this?” I asked the soulbeads silently.
They said nothing, but I felt their satisfaction. The way is clear, Adianna whispered.
I checked the guards for knives. Damn! They only had these stupid spears. What sort of guards were these? Not even one decent knife? I picked one up. It was heavy, and its tip was razor sharp. For some reason, it was decorated with a horse-hair tassel. Why? What was the point of decorating a spear?
Focus! whispered Adianna.
I staggered down the stairs. My legs felt strangely weak, and I grabbed the railing for support as the earth trembled again. Then I was outside, standing in the courtyard. So strange to be here, among the people and the dust, rather than looking down from the window. Running unsteadily across the courtyard, I couldn’t help glancing upwards at the tower. I saw a flicker of white, through the wooden grille of my window, as though the serving girl was upright and looking down at me.
Faster, snapped Adianna.
The fountain! whispered Wynne. Remember; at the base of the fountain lies a secret made of stone.
I darted across broken tiles, hurdled broken building spars. The air was full of dust and smoke, and it caught at my throat and made me cough. An old woman lay in a pool of blood. Flies buzzed about her nose. The stone base was discolored, green-brown with verdigris and marred by a great crack. The silver tree had fallen sideways into the pond, smashing the stonework as it fell. As I grew closer, I could see something inside the base.
Hurry!
Stepping into the now-empty pond, I reached into the crack, and my fingers touched a bundle of dry leather. I hesitated, imagining what Master Yang would say at this moment. He would say hurry up.
I heard shouts. The earth trembled, then stilled. The air stirred briefly, blowing a stench of death.
The sky turned dark. Shouts turned into screams; wind swirled. Shielding my face with my hands, I turned to run. Too slow! Down came the Kamaye, dark wings outspread. The smell was overwhelming, and in the sky the stars seemed to burn. The world turned black, and I knew no more.
Chapter Eight
Truly A Captive
When I woke, it was dark. A heavy metal chain had been looped about my neck while others bound my wrists and ankles. I felt within for the souls I carried, the other Guardians. Nothing. Water trickled faintly in the distance. Each breath in dragged against the throttling weight; each breath out was a relief. I’m going to die. They would keep me here until the appointed time, and then they would haul me out and kill me.
I didn’t feel fear; I felt only regret. That’s the thing: impending death makes you contemplative. I thought about the choices I had made in my life and about those I loved. Mostly, I thought of Will. His rare smile, his knife flashing in the sun, his strong arms about my waist and the warmth of his breath on my cheek. I played those moments over and over in my mind. If I lived … oh, if I lived, I would tell him that I loved him. And I would never leave him, never again.
Time passed slowly, measured in breaths and heartbeats and the dripping of water on stone. The soulbeads had deserted me; I was completely alone. I closed my eyes against the blackness. Eventually I fell asleep. And I dreamed.
I was lying on my back. My throat felt blessedly unencumbered, and my breath came easily. Cold salty water splashed, stinging, across my face. Above me a sail cracked, fluttering in the wind. Thick gray clouds raced across the sky. I was on a boat, and a storm was rising. At the tiller, a man frowned out at the horizon. I knew his face. This was Thomas, Sarah’s manservant.
“Mama! I’m cold.” Rebecca tugged at my skirt.
I felt like screaming. This wasn’t fair! Why did I have to be here, at this moment? This wasn’t my reality. Why couldn’t I dream about Will? But no, once again I was Sarah, fleeing from the Romans.
“Mama?” The girl was shivering, and her lips were blue.
Half carrying her, I crawled across the deck to where the curve of the boat’s body made a rough shelter. A wave sluiced over the prow and I gasped with the cold. The carry sack had been tied to the wooden boat frame. I tugged at the fastening, but my fingers were clumsy with cold. Another wave washed over us. Thomas turned the tiller and the boat lurched as finally the knots of the carrysack gave way, and I pulled the sack open.
“Come,” I said heartily. “Let’s get some clothes on.”
I tugged out a wool-lined cape. Just as I pulled at it, the boat plunged again and out tumbled the glass globe. It rolled across the deck but just in time, Rebecca grabbed at it. I tucked the cape around us.
“All well?” called Thomas. “Madam?”
I nodded, fighting nausea.
“Mam!” Rebecca stared at the glass. Her face was wide-eyed and pale. “No. No! Don’t let them!”
She dropped the globe, but I caught it before it could roll away.
“Papa,” Rebecca whispered.
Inside the glass was Shimon, but so changed I barely recognized him. His once lush beard and hair had been shaven, and he was thin, half-starved. His ankles and wrists were shackled and he stumbled through a jeering crowd. He was not alone; there were scores like him, captives all, chained together in a long line. Their bowed heads and slumped shoulders told of defeat and approaching death. I touched the glass gently. Poor Shimon. Behind him proud soldiers carried golden candlesticks, golden bowls, golden statues. All the treasures of the temple, save this one, cradled in my hands.
“What will happen?” Rebecca whispered.
As she spoke the scene scattered, fragmenting like blown leaves. I shook my head, not wanting to answer. But inside I knew what the scene meant; Shimon would be killed, executed as a traitor.
Was I looking at the past? Or could I be seeing a time yet to come? The boat lurched, falling into the trough of the waves, and I grabbed at Rebecca as more cold water rushed over us. Whatever had happened to the man I loved, I could not change it. This was my reality now. Rebecca reached for the glass, staring into it as though searching for her father. But he had long gone, disappearing into history.
I blinked. Was that movement inside the glass? The bubbles drifted toward Rebecca’s fingers, settling where her hands touched the glass. I saw another scene: a hill and a cliff and a proud man, smiling. The cliff was strangely familiar.
Rebecca smiled up at me, her child’s face reflected in the globe’s curved surface. “He sees me.”
Taking the globe from her, I tucked the thing carefully into the carrysack, where it wo
uld be safe. This water on my face, this wasn’t tears, no; it was only the splashing of the waves.
“Land!” Thomas called. “Madam? There’s land!”
“Make for the beach,” I called. Somehow, I knew there would be one, if we could pull past the rocks.
“I can’t!” Thomas sounded panicked. “The current! It’s too strong!” Desperately, he pulled at the tiller.
Rebecca’s lip quivered.
“Hush now,” I whispered. Her cheek was soft. “It’s all right. You will grow strong, and you will have many children.” Inside this dream I thought: I will be one of them.
The wind caught the sail, turned the boat. Thomas pushed desperately at the tiller, but the storm was too strong. The waves caught us, rolling us like a toy. Foam washed over the deck as the boat turned broadside to the waves. The canvas sail shook, the sea roared.
I clutched Rebecca tight, grabbed the carrysack with the other hand. “Hold on!”
The boat struck the rocks. With a grinding roar, the deck ripped apart. Thomas shouted. A wave washed over him, threw him into the sea. He screamed as he fell. Briefly I saw his head bob above the waves. Then he disappeared.
“Are you ready?” I said to Rebecca.
She nodded. I kissed the top of her head. “Good.” She was brave, this ancestress of mine.
The ship groaned. The wind howled, the ice-cold spray seemed to burn with cold. A sudden gust caught the sail and ripped it in half. It fluttered like a ghost against the gray storm-sky.
“We’ll have to swim,” I shouted.
She nodded again.
We worked our way to the topmost point of the vessel, and stood for a moment, looking out at the gray, heaving sea. I couldn’t see Thomas. I hoped he’d made it to the beach; he was brave and faithful and he deserved to live. But the world is not a kind place and fate is not always fair. On the cliffs above us a beacon flared into life.
I pointed to a patch of waves where the water seemed calmer. “There.”
The SoulNecklace Stories Page 59