“Hard to say. From our location, it appeared to be mild. But we don’t know what we’ll encounter when we head into the pass. The route could be strangled by fallen rock. There’s no way to predict the next time the fault will shift.”
“Makes our job easier then, doesn’t it?” Rad said. “The seizure could have done the work, burying the bastards. We’d just have to dig them out of the fallout.”
“Makes our job harder,” Ichika told him. “If the thieves made it through before the seizure, they might have managed to cover their tracks with a solid wall. And it’s too much of a risk to bring the entire party through that fault zone.”
Dam had a terrible feeling he knew where the conversation was headed. He looked to Hanhau. “There’s got to be other ways around that pass, right? One group could follow their path, and another could venture around to the other side of the mountains.”
“That’s not an option,” Hanhau said. “The mountain range is much too broad. You could walk from here to the mountains and back one hundred times before you found another way around.”
“What about slug-sledges?”
“The mountains are staggered. The terrain is too difficult for even them.”
Rad stood. “Then we all go through the pass. We’re wasting time talking about it while the bastards are getting a lead on us.”
Ichika glanced at Hanhau. Dam didn’t like that look.
“Six of us will scout the pass. That’s our archers, our skirmishers, Ichika, and myself,” Hanhau said. “The rest will tend a camp by the lake.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Rad said.
“Ysalane has given me and Ichika command of this mission. We’ve judged our best course of action, and it will be carried out as an order.”
Attalos cursed to his companions. “Might as well send us back to the city to sit on our hands.”
Dam’s gaze slunk to the ground. The warriors didn’t trust him and his friends. They treated them like children. And Hanhau wasn’t standing up for them. What had happened to being “comrades” on their mission? That was what Hanhau had told Dam after he had apologized for not standing up for Dam when they had first talked about organizing a squad to go after Calyiches.
But Dam didn’t say a word. He looked to his friends while holding Hanhau in the corner of his vision. “Rad said it right. We’re wasting time standing around talking about it. Let’s get a move on.”
*
The hike through the grotto was as easy as Hanhau said it would be. The floor declined at a gentle grade. The walls echoed peacefully with the stream’s chime and flow. It reminded Dam of childhood excursions to the countryside where his cousin’s family had a villa with terraced gardens, lily pools, horse stables and riding trails, and acres upon acres of wooded land. He and Aerander enjoyed exploring a creek burrowed in the bay leaf forest. They used to catch newts and crayfish there.
Those memories were nice, but they didn’t dispel how sore Dam was at Hanhau. He could feel the same resentment bottled up in his companions who trudged along in sharp silence. Dam wondered if they resented him as well. He was their representative. Attalos knew about Dam’s special relationship with Hanhau. Hanhau had visited his home a lot. Likely that news had traveled around his group of friends, and now they would all be wondering why Dam couldn’t have had a word with Hanhau about treating them like tag-alongs while the warriors handled the real business of their expedition.
But what was Dam supposed to do? Hanhau was in charge, and the captain of the company needed to be respected. Dam couldn’t go strutting up to him to demand that his team be given more responsibility. That would embarrass both of them.
They passed by a campsite with quenched coals encircled by rocks. Bloodied rags had been tossed around the bank. One or more of the thieves had been injured badly in the Fire Canyon. Dam remembered the warriors whose faces and bodies had been scorched in the eruption of the Oomphalos Tower. Burning was the worst kind of injury. Little could be done to encourage healing, and cleaning and re-bandaging the wound was excruciating for the patient. Any one of Calyiches’ party deserved that misery. Dam wished that it was Calyiches himself. With their leader encumbered, their party might have fractured while they bickered over who should lead them forward.
Later, the grotto opened up to a gulf of water. A strange cloud of light hovered over that glassy expanse like the milky aura of a crisp night sky. A fresh breeze as strong and boundless as the seaborne wind swept against Dam’s face. Hanhau had mentioned a lake. Its proportions faded into the obscurity of the horizon.
Blix explained that the patches of light were from underground mayflies. Like many creatures of their country, the mayflies could conjure fire. This was the season when they mated and laid eggs on the water. The company wound along a ledge to the lake’s lapping beach. Light like burnished silver reflected onto the shore. The coastline was a barren rock steppe as far as Dam could see.
A buzzing, blinding curtain of light whooshed toward the group from offshore. Dam ducked and shielded his eyes as the mob of mayflies rattled over his head and out to the water.
Hanhau and Ichika led the group onward. A short jaunt along the shore, they spotted another outpost of the traitors. Calyiches’ party hadn’t covered much ground after their previous harbor, leaving more bloody rags. It felt like icy wraiths of death hung over the spot, but no body was to be seen. Dam overheard Rad and Blix.
“I thought the Oomphalos could heal wounds,” Rad said.
“It takes a conjurer to focus the stone’s energies,” Blix said. “Otherwise, its magic is diffuse. A wee dose of medicine for a mortal wound.”
Dam understood. It had taken many fortnights for the stone to rejuvenate Hephad’s tongue. Whoever had been burnt in the Fire Canyon didn’t have time for a gradual recovery.
“That’s a fool’s justice,” Rad said. “The idiots stole the most powerful thing in the underworld, and they have no idea how to use it.” He was silent for a stretch, and then he turned to Blix again. “What are the chances they could figure out how to master its magic?”
“Our people have spent one hundred lifetimes studying the stone and only unlocked a few of its mysteries. That knowledge goes back to ancient times when the ones who forged the stone used its power to make a grand kingdom that would be eternally protected. Then came Ouroborus. She led a faction of men to steal the stone and slaughter every one of its original masters.”
Dam pushed into the conversation. “But Ysalane knows how to use the stone, doesn’t she?”
Blix took account of Dam and nodded. “Ysalane was chosen as a keeper of the stone’s mysteries. She’ll choose but one successor from the new generation to pass along the knowledge. It is an awesome power and a responsibility. You have seen the horrors that were unleashed from the stone when Ouroborus possessed it.”
Dam’s mind’s eye flashed with images of the serpent-people, the New Ones. Their black-scaled bodies crested three times the height of a normal man, and they had knife-sized fangs that wept deadly venom. Bringing one down took three warriors and a battery of bolts and spears.
“So the stone can also be used as a weapon,” Rad said.
“That’s a sorcery that has only been commanded by very few,” Blix said. He glanced at Dam. “Ouroborus. And Aerander.”
Dam had seen Aerander wield the stone and seen a bolt of light flare from it like Poseidon’s spear cast from the heavens. That otherworldly missile had transmuted the three-headed serpent queen Ouroborus to brittle cinders.
“How did Aerander learn to use the stone?” Rad asked Dam.
“He didn’t,” Dam said. “I mean, he just did.” His cousin was somehow connected to the stone through his heritage, the line of Atlas. But that was a story that Dam didn’t understand so well. The whole conversation was making him uneasy, as though traces of their voices might be heard by the Oomphalos. The stone was neither man nor creature, but it had a sentience about it. It could pull at men’s hearts as it did with Ouroborus. Dam had f
elt that hypnotic enticement. He wondered if Rad had as well.
Blix gestured back to the traitor’s camp. “This is not good. The stench of blood will bring out scavengers.”
“What sort of scavengers?” Rad said.
Blix shrugged. “Carrion-beetles. Gulley-grouts.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“A carrion-beetle has a jaw span big enough to swallow your head and a set of horns that can dig through rock.”
That squelched the conversation. They marched forward in a uniform line of pairs. Walking beside Attalos on the steppe-side of their trail, Dam kept an eye on the veil of shadow offshore.
*
After a hike that left Dam’s legs leaden and clumsy, they reached the shoals of a mountain range. Its colossal textures were scarcely silhouetted in the darkness that lay ahead, especially as he tried to trace its heights. But Dam could feel its presence, a still, impenetrable wall. The voices of the men ahead of him were tinny and diminutive beneath the gravity of the mountains.
Hanhau called out to the group to make camp. The middle warriors who ferried the bulk of their provisions laid down their loads. Others came over to rustle through the boxed freight for the fire coals, the food, and the drinking vessels. In other circumstances, Dam would have welcomed the chance to rest, but he pushed into the cluster of activity. Picking up his cue, Attalos, Callios, Heron, and Rad followed him.
“We’ll help,” Dam announced.
He grasped two flagons to fill in the lake, and the others started unpacking the boxes. The warriors halted their work, thrown off by the change in their routine, but no one spoke up to stop the boys. Dam and Attalos went down to the lake with pairs of flagons while the others scoured the shore for rocks to bank a fire.
They made their campsite on a granite bed above the shore. The warriors stoked a thick, smoky fire from the coals. Everyone gathered around to eat and drink. Conversation was brusque while they swigged down water and filled their mouths with fish to replenish themselves. Afterward, they sat around looking out at the mysterious play of light on the water.
The haloed swarms of mayflies had diminished. Just like aboveground, the tiny creatures mated and laid their eggs and died. Dam tried to imagine what it would be like when those eggs hatched on the lake, all together, a phoenix rising from the darkness.
Hanhau and Ichika stood to discuss their plan.
“At our next rising, our lead group enters the mountain pass,” Hanhau said. “The rest will keep watch here.” He held up a conch horn on a chain. “This will be our signal. One bellow will say that we have made it across, and the passage is safe. Two will be a call for reinforcements.”
Dam stared into the obscurity of the mountains. If the fault shifted while Hanhau and the others were in there, they could be swallowed by that chasm and never seen again. He searched for the sound or the feel of motion on the floor beneath his legs but felt nothing. The party split to bathe down at the lake and roll out pallets. Dam remained in place. He hoped that Hanhau would as well. Dam ventured a glance up at him. Hanhau stepped over and sat down on the floor.
“How are you faring?” Hanhau said.
“You should let us come with you.”
Hanhau inhaled a sharp breath.
“It makes sense,” Dam said. “We’re the weakest unit. Better us than the strongest ones if something goes wrong. You’d have a good group left to keep pursuing Calyiches.”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
They were silent. The space between their hands, resting at their sides, was miniscule, and it would have been entirely natural for Dam to take Hanhau’s hand in his to say they were together in the mission and more than just two mates talking about it. But what if that made Hanhau angry? They could be seen by the other warriors.
Hanhau patted Dam’s hand and stood. “You should wash up and get some rest.”
“You need rest. Let my group keep watch overnight. You’ve got to let us do something.”
Hanhau’s brow wrinkled. His posture was weighed down, and the light drawn up in his face was faint. “I suppose you can take the first watch with Blix.”
Dam shot up to his feet. He gazed at Hanhau gratefully. That was all that he could do to express his feelings. He clambered down to the lake to tell the others about the first watch.
Chapter Six
While the warriors bedded themselves at camp, Dam, Attalos, Rad, and Blix took up a post on a bluff of rock looking out to the steppe. Callios and Heron posted themselves near the beach, looking back the way their party had come. Their camp was hemmed in on two sides by the mountains and the lake. Hanhau said any danger would likely come from the rock plain, which stretched outward from the lake to a sightless distance.
Dam had brought an oil lantern, and he and his companions had put their shifts and chain aprons back on and holstered their scabbards on their backs. Blix had brought an iron crook and worn the conch horn around his neck. They all gazed out at the cloaked horizon. The lantern shone only a few yards into that vast void. A breath of wind whispered across the plain, but nothing more was to be heard.
“How long do we keep watch?” Attalos asked Blix.
“Until Kish and Puchan come to relieve us,” Blix said.
After a while, Attalos piped up again. “How will they know it’s time to wake up?”
“They will,” Blix told him.
“I spent a night keeping watch on a maneuver through the jungle,” Rad said. “My father had rounded up his best legionnaires to clear a path for a new route between the capital and our trade cities farther inland. That cursed backcountry was teeming with cannibals and saber-toothed tigers.”
Dam and Attalos exchanged a look that was not precisely an eye-roll but close to it.
“How many cannibals did you kill?” Attalos said.
“Didn’t have to kill any if you played it smart. If you ever saw a cannibal, you’d understand. Better to stay out of their detection rather than to take them head on.”
“What about saber-toothed tigers?” Dam said.
“Same principle,” Rad said. He glanced at Attalos and Dam, appearing to be adding up that they were making fun of him. He shook his head. “Bet neither one of you has ever even used a blade.”
Dam hadn’t, but he remembered using the blunt handle of Aerander’s xiphos to batter the High Priest Zazamoukh in the back of the head when he had held Aerander and Lys prisoner and was going to feed them to the New Ones. He told Rad that story.
Rad snorted. “That took balls, but not much skill.”
“It brought the priest down to the floor and knocked him out for the rest of the day,” Dam said. “If I hadn’t done it, none of us would be here right now. Aerander and Lys would be dead.” He looked to the sightless ceiling above them. “You’d be fish fodder up there in the sea.”
“You should learn to use the other end of a xiphos,” Rad said. He stepped away, reached over his shoulder to unsheathe his blade, and brandished it in front of him in a fighting stance. He waved his free hand at Dam and Attalos. “C’mon.”
Dam and Attalos looked at one another. Rad was full of himself and bossy, but both boys could use pointers on using their blades. Dam asked Blix if it would be all right.
“Go ahead,” Blix said. “I’ll keep lookout.”
The two boys came over in front of Rad. He gestured for them to unsheathe their swords, and he went from one to the other to correct their grips.
“A xiphos is a one-handed weapon. Leaves your other hand free to box.” Once he had molded their hands on the hilt of their swords, Rad stepped back into an open space and deftly made some cross-strokes in the air while throwing out his fist at different angles. That left Dam confounded. It was like trying to follow the movements of a pair of scissors on wheels. Attalos gave it a try and dropped his xiphos, which landed on the ground with a clang.
“That’s more advanced technique,” Rad said. He came around Attalos and mantled the boy’s body with his taller f
rame. “The foundation of everything is balance.” He pivoted Attalos’ hips with his hands so that the boy stood sidelong, and he nudged apart the boy’s ankles so that his legs were spread with one foot anchored behind the other. Rad positioned Attalos’ upper body so that his fighting arm was thrown forward with his blade standing vertical. He bent Attalos’ other arm at his side.
Rad patted that arm. “That’s your counterbalance. Don’t worry about using it for fighting yet. Just remember to keep it tucked and loose. That helps when you need to swivel to the side or dart away.”
Dam gazed at Attalos with admiration. He really looked like a fighter.
Rad stepped over to Dam and went through the same motions with him. Dam tried to bury a blush from the contact of the young soldier’s warm, martially trained body against his. He felt small and shy, but Dam pushed those thoughts out of his brain. He had to maintain a serious attitude. He didn’t want Rad thinking he was girlish.
After that lesson on stances, Rad told them to try maneuvering their blades. The motion came from the wrist and the forearm. After trying to skirmish with his blade, Dam understood why Rad’s forearms were so impressively developed. His were sore and drained. He felt like a weakling.
“It takes work to build endurance,” Rad said. “There’s exercises to get those forearms stronger. But the best way to get you into shape is to practice sparring.” He clipped Dam on the arm to draw him over to a spot where they faced one another. Rad assumed a fighting stance. Dam did his best to imitate him.
“Besides your blade, your most important weapon is your eyes,” Rad said. He came at Dam with shallow swings, staring at him like a wolf locked in on a kill. “Never take them off your opponent,” Rad said. “Home in on the spot to plant your blade. Keep your eyes fixed there and follow through with your attack.”
Dam raised his sword to block Rad’s advance. Rad came at him slowly and deliberately, and even though Rad held back for the demonstration, Dam struggled to parry the boy’s swings and lunges. He sidled backward, lost traction with his sword, and Rad’s weapon poked into the mesh of his apron covering his heart.
Banished Sons Of Poseidon Page 14