by Tim Marquitz
Uthul nodded.
The Velen pulled free of the Pathra and sank to his knees. The Yvir beside him stirred and dragged his face along the dirt to look at his blood-companion. Sorrow was visible in the warrior’s blue eyes, despite the deep shadows of his own physical pain. He struggled to go to the Velen, his binds holding him in place.
Domor fell forward, his head cradled in his arms. “Crahill. I’m sorry, my brother,” he sobbed. “I have failed you once more. Cael.” The last was little more than a muffled whisper.
Uthul reach down and pulled the Velen to his feet, staring up at him. Domor’s wet eyes went wide.
“What name did you just speak?”
Domor stiffened as he met Uthul’s gaze. “My nephew: Cael,” he choked out.
Uthul turned to the warlord, his grip still tight upon the Velen’s arms. “Free them both. They would have my protection.”
Quaii stood silent for a moment, his face a stoic mask, before motioning for his warriors to do as Uthul asked. With grumbled complaint drawn short by a fearsome glare from Quaii, the Pathra cut both loose.
“See to the warrior’s wounds. I must speak with his companion,” Uthul said, leading Domor away from the Pathra. He motioned for Quaii to join them, turning Domor to face him once more. “Though I believe your brother was killed during the invasion, Cael yet lives.”
Domor stared at him a moment without expression. “How do you know?”
“Cael fled the Korme invasion and I and my companion happened upon him in the Dead Lands. He travels now toward Lathah, in safe arms.”
The Velen’s shoulders sunk low, his arms trembling in Uthul’s grasp. “He lives, Crahill, he lives.”
Uthul nodded. “He does, but I must ask, is it your nephew you seek, or the ancient tool he carries?”
Domor’s gaze slipped away, silver marring his cheeks. “In truth, Sha’ree, I seek both.” He breathed a weary sigh. “I failed my brother once and it cost him his wife. I would not see it happen with his son, so I came to bring them back to Vel with me, that I might know them safe. It was my hope to bring the relic home, as well, for I had heard of your quest.”
“Know you how to make the rod work?”
Domor nodded.
“Then I would have you and your companion travel with me, for our quest is not to reclaim the ancient tools, the O’hra, lost to time, but to train those we find in possession of them, in their use.”
“Why would you do that?” Domor’s eyes narrowed and he looked down upon Uthul with suspicion.
“As the Sha’ree cannot confront the Grol, we must build a force capable of doing so. Those who have wielded the O’hra are best suited for our purpose.”
“You would have me fight the Grol?”
“Perhaps, but there is much more that must be done before that time comes.”
“Such as?”
Uthul met Domor’s bright white eyes. “We have little time to waste on lengthy explanations, Velen. Will you travel with me, or would you prefer to remain in the care of the Pathra?”
Warlord Quaii grinned, the sharpness of his teeth glistening in his mouth. Domor looked to the Pathra and then back to Uthul, his shoulders hunched.
“It seems I would be traveling with you.” A hint of fire glimmered in his eyes as he gestured to the Yviri warrior. “My blood-companion will be, as well, if you expect my assistance.”
Uthul gave a shallow bow, a smile on his face. “Certainly.” He pulled a Succor from his bag and handed it to the Velen. “Feed your companion this, but return the seed to me. We will travel as soon as he is on his feet.”
Domor took the Succor, his eyes nearly as round as the fruit as he examined it before scurrying off to the Yvir’s side. Uthul turned to Quaii. “I would have two of the tools to help speed us on our way, but the rest will remain here, Warlord Quaii. Hold fierce until I return. I fear the Lathahns will be close at my heels, the Grol but steps behind.”
Uthul gave his thanks and turned to look toward Lathah. Once the warlord had moved away to collect the O’hra for his traveling companions, Uthul grew tense. As much as he wished to deny it, he had little confidence in the path ahead. The discovery of the new O’hra had changed everything. He knew not how many had been crafted, or to what purpose they had been set, or even how or why they’d been made, but their existence was a complication his people had not expected. There was no longer any certainty as to how to proceed.
Uthul glanced back to see the Yviri warrior on his feet, a flush of color at his lined cheeks. The warrior would soon be able to travel. Uthul was grateful, for he felt the weight of urgency settling over him. He needed to find Zalee and send her to warn their people of what he’d found. He only hoped, in his impatience to deliver his warning, he was not condemning his people by exposing himself to the use of the unknown O’hra.
It was a risk he needed to take. There was far more at work than they had previously believed when they’d set out to find the O’hra-wielders. It was no longer just the Grol army to be dealt with, but now the Yvir, as well, and perhaps even more. If the Sha’ree were to have any hope of ending the war that threatened to engulf Ahreele, they needed to know more.
Uthul prayed there was enough time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
His bones sore, every muscle cramped and aching, Cael stifled a groan as Zalee loosed his hands and legs and set him down. His legs trembled and he latched onto a nearby tree to remain standing, pinpricks of agony searing at his knees and wrists as the blood began to flow free once more. He felt his stomach lurch at the sudden steadiness of the ground beneath him, having grown accustomed to the rocking motion of Zalee’s run.
He glanced over at the Sha’ree to see her staring off through the trees. Though she breathed a little heavy, she seemed to show no ill effects for their hurried journey from Pathrale, despite her effort. Cael did not feel so fortunate. He willed his stomach to settle and praying it listened.
Unable to keep pace with the Sha’ree, Cael fell behind early in their run. Zalee, unwilling to leave him or let him slow her down, snatched him up like a baby and carried him in her arms for most of the day. Cael was jostled and jarred about until his vision blurred and his bowels threatened to give way. Vomit rising volcanic in his throat, he convinced Zalee to let him ride upon her back.
It proved to be little better. At some point during the journey, the world flying past him in a blur, Zalee had tied his legs about her waist and his arms around her shoulders to keep him in place. Cael secure upon her back, in body if not in spirit, Zalee had run even faster. It was like breaking a mount, the experience drawn out in a misery that lasted the course of a day.
“We are too late,” Zalee told him, her voice without emotion.
His head filled with clouds, Cael tried to shake them free as he stumbled over to where Zalee stood. His eyes followed hers and he saw the great spires of Lathah that stood majestic in the distance against the backdrop of the Fortress Mountains. He could see the great outer wall still stood strong. Though wisps of dark smoke rose up from behinds its sprawling whiteness, he could spy no obvious damage. He could hear no commotion rising from the city, no horns or the clatter of men at battle, nor did he see any forces laying siege.
“Too late?”
Zalee nodded, her finger tracing the line of the trees on the far side of the city. “The Grol are here, lurking in the woods, though they do not hide.”
Cael narrowed his eyes and stared hard across the barren killing field, but he could see nothing moving amidst the distant woods. He cast his sight to the walls and blocked his eyes against the sun that crept low in the western sky, hovering above the mountains and the city below. He could see a number of shadows flitting along the wall top, but nothing that confirmed Zalee’s statement. Despite that, he knew to trust the Sha’ree’s judgment.
“What do we do?”
Zalee stood quiet a moment, her pink eyes flitting back and forth along the edge of the trees. “Grol soldiers are moving slow
ly through the woods, likely in an attempt to cut off the city to ensure no one flees. That gives us little time. We must go now if we are to collect the warrior and flee before the city is surrounded.”
Cael glanced at the open field before them, knowing full well it existed to keep intruders from doing exactly what they were intent upon doing. “They’ll see us.”
Zalee smiled in her way, an expression that Cael had come to recognize, despite its lack of warmth. “I am not without my tricks.” She held out her hand.
Cael breathed deep and took her gloved hand in his own, wondering what she had in mind. She gripped him tight.
“For this, we must travel slowly, but do not let loose of my hand. We must remain in contact and stay quiet; our voices will carry if we are not mindful.”
Cael tightened his own grip and nodded. Zalee wasted no time, pulling him forward and walking them directly onto the killing field. His eyes darted about as they walked, almost casually, across the soft dirt of the field. Any moment he expected a shout to come from Lathah, arrows to follow, or worse still, for the Grol to notice them. He shuddered as he remembered the horrid tales his father had told him about the beasts. The thought of his pieces warming their bellies as the rest of him waited in a cage to join them, turned his stomach. He’d welcome an arrow any day.
Despite his fear, the possibility of death all around, there were no shouts of discovery, no whistle of arrows, nor any angered growls rumbling from the woods. Against all sense of their open passage, they continued forward without notice. The shadows on the walls loomed larger, until taking shape as men when Zalee and he drew closer. Still they approached unnoticed.
Cael cast a glance over his shoulder and nearly stumbled, clasping tightly to Zalee’s hand to keep from falling. The Sha’ree glared at him and tugged him on. Cael mouthed an apology and kept pace, casting one last look behind to confirm what he had noticed. Despite the soft dirt of the killing field he felt crunch and shift beneath his feet, they left no trail behind, the dirt unmarred by their passage.
He had believed he had experienced the greatest wonder he could ever witness as he helped the Sha’ree contact the Goddess Ree, but Zalee continued to prove him wrong. The calming of the river bolstered his awe of the ancient race, their current venture only adding to that amazement. He had known wonder at the golden rod he carried, understanding it was only a piece of the Sha’ree magic, but he could never have imagined what Zalee’s people were capable of before having come to be in their presence. It was humbling.
A gentle tap on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. He glanced to Zalee as they came about on the near side of the great wall that kept the residents of Lathah safe from harm and them from entering. The look up at the summit set his eyes to swimming.
Zalee leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear. “Stay here, tight against the wall, and hold your tongue. The Grol have yet to come about far enough to spy you and the Lathahns would never think to look down this close to the wall. You will be safe until I retrieve you.”
Cael nodded, hoping his face reflected more confidence than he felt. Zalee paused and smiled at him, dispelling his hope. He’d come this far, he saw no reason not to see it further. Cael waved her on, pressing his back against the cold stone of the wall.
Zalee nodded in return and set about removing her gloves and boots. Once done, the items held fast beneath her sword belt, she set her hands upon the wall, her arms stretched out over her head. Once more she gave Cael reason to wonder.
Like a spider, Zalee pulled herself up the wall, her hands and feet seemingly able to latch onto tiny holds that were invisible to him. She climbed with the same smooth grace she displayed when walking or running, her body moving as though it knew not the impossibility of what it attempted.
In but a few moments, Zalee had reached the top of the wall and disappeared between the shadowed crenellations. Cael’s wonderment was overshadowed only by the feeling of aloneness that he felt when slipped from his view. Despite her assurance he would not be seen, Cael felt exposed sitting against the great white wall, the Grol army circling around the city.
His pulse raced and he could feel its energy at his throat, each beat causing the skin to dance. He worked to slow his breathing certain Zalee would not have left him had it not been safe to do so. He kept his eyes on the trees and willed his chest to ease its thunderous beat, almost assured it could be heard on the walls above.
Though he knew not how long he’d waited, each beat of his heart was like a lifetime, every sound, no matter how distant, set him to jump. While he heard no cries from inside the city, he had just about given up home of Zalee returning when a line of silvery rope dropped to the ground beside.
His pulse went still as he spun about, resuming its beat once more as his eyes followed the trail of rope up the top of the wall where Zalee perched, waving to him. He grasped the edge of the line in trembling hands and noticed the small loop that was tied at its end. Certain Zalee did not expect him to scale the wall as she had he slid his foot into the loop and grasped ahold of the knot that sat roughly at the level of his chest.
The moment his hands locked about the knot, Zalee began to haul him up. She pulled him up with ease, the rope gliding smoothly as she pulled it through her grasp, hand over hand. Cael felt the wall at his shoulder, its cold touch scraping lightly along the sleeve of his tunic, its closeness keeping him from swaying as he rose.
Before Cael had time to grow nervous about the height, his eyes focused rigid upon the rope clasped in his hands, he was there beside Zalee. She helped him onto the comforting ledge of the wall top and he loosed the breath he’d been holding the entire ascent. He cast his eyes about, but saw no soldiers on their side of the wall. Zalee waved him forward, and motioned down the inside of the wall, the sudden realization dawning on Cael that they could not simply stroll down the stairs without meeting resistance, as he had hoped.
He nodded and let Zalee help to dangle him over the inside edge. He held tight as she lowered him to the ground, slipping into an alley formed by the tight cluster of tiny buildings that littered the base of the wall. Once he was down, the rope dropped beside him and Zalee slithered down just a moment later. She tugged gentle upon it and the silvery line pulled loose and fell in a pile beside them. Zalee coiled it and returned it to the bag she wore at her back.
She replaced her gloves and boots and turned to look at Cael, as if to gauge his readiness. He shrugged and motioned for her to continue on. He held his hand out.
Zalee waved it off and whispered, “We risk stirring Lathahn anger if we should penetrate too far into their city unnoticed. Though there may well be questions as to how we came about being within their walls, we are better served by traveling openly and doing nothing that would make them think we wish to avoid notice.”
Cael groaned, but could find no fault with her logic despite his own wish to avoid notice. “Then let’s be about it.”
Zalee wasted no time, strolling boldly from the alley and out into the streets of Lathah. Cael followed close at her heels, giving her none of the space he’d grown accustomed to as they traveled through the Dead Lands. There he was sure the beasts were intelligent enough to steer clear of the Sha’ree and those they’d taken under their protection. He wasn’t certain the Lathahns could be counted on to have such sense.
He needed have worried. All around was chaos. Amidst the thick odor of sewage gone awry, was proof that the Grol had been set upon the city. Smoke billowed in dark spirals toward the sky as many of the small wooden buildings that cluttered the streets were bathed in flames, flickers of red and orange feeding into the black. He could feel the heat of their presence warm upon his face.
Zalee led him from the building conflagration and they strode in the center of the dirt street, veering off only to avoid the overturned market carts and debris that cluttered the way forward. There seemed to be few people still about, Cael imagining the rest having migrated upward through the levels to find safety
far from the outer wall.
As they neared what appeared to be the gate to the next level, Cael noticed the charred metal and ash that stained the white wall black. The gate hung open on warped hinges. Zalee waved him toward them. Still lingering close, Cael spied movement out of the corner of his eye and cast a quick glance.
A disheveled young girl, her brown hair as wild as the look on her dirty face, dug amongst the trash that spilled out onto the street from a nearby alley. She looked up at him as he slowed. The steely hardness of her stare was unnerving. Dressed in tattered clothing that seemed sizes too big, and stained in soot and dirt, prowling as she was, hunched low to the ground, she reminded Cael of the skeletal wolves. There was something feral about the girl that made him pull his eyes away.
Zalee a short distance ahead, Cael raced to catch up. He drew up alongside her as she continued on, making her way through the damaged gate.