earthdawn Anarya's Secret

by Tim Jones

  "The guards are after us!" hissed Anarya.

  "Move out of the way," Kendik told T'shifa, "or we're coming through you."

  T'shifa gave a dry chuckle, and said "Come with us instead."

  Beyond the melted door was a short, arched tunnel, about thirty paces in length. One end was open to the sun, and to the sight and smell of the River Opthia, glistening in the light. A channel—the source of the water that had swirled in on them—ran from the Opthia up the center of the tunnel, and there were stone-flagged paths on either side.

  "You take that side, we'll take this," said T'shifa.

  While the nine t'skrang deployed themselves on one path, Kendik and his five companions squeezed onto the other. Tiptoeing past each other, they arranged themselves so that Kendik, Sezhina, and Anarya were nearest the melted door, and Qualia and Atlan, the most wounded in body or spirit, were furthest away.

  Over the flow of the water, they could hear the sound of stealthy movement. T'shifa stood, scimitar in hand, right beside the mouth of the small tunnel. A head poked through—a head that flew from its body before its eyes could fully widen in shock. Another guard followed, and this time, she almost had time to raise her sword before she died.

  "Now!" said T'shifa. Four of the t'skrang jumped in the channel and sped with dreadful eagerness into the flooded tunnel. T'shifa remained, smiling at Kendik.

  "Once again we come to your aid," she said.

  Kendik did not answer. He was too busy listening to the sounds of slaughter coming from the tunnel, as men and women whose only crime was to wear the blue and brown of Tesek's guards lost their lives to enemies who could see, move, and strike with ease in water and near darkness.

  The t'skrang reappeared, wet and bloodied.

  "Did you kill them all?" asked T'shifa.

  "No. Two ran as soon as we entered the tunnel. By the time we fought our way through the rest, they were gone."

  "So. They will come in force soon. We must go, and report the failure of both our attempts. I fear Vulumensthetika will be unhappy with me. But what's new in that?"

  T'shifa looked across at Kendik. "I take it you were trying to escape from this place?"

  "Yes," Kendik replied. There didn't seem much point in lying.

  "You didn't make a very good job of it, then. We're still inside the town walls."

  "You must have got in," said Kendik.

  "Your powers of deduction grow ever sharper, Your Excellence. But can all of you swim under water?"

  No reply.

  "Then you'll have to learn fast."

  The one thing that reassured Kendik, as he lowered himself into the turbid waters of the Opthia and felt the water cling to him like a clammy second skin, was that no one lingered near the Opthia if they could help it. He remembered how much he had loved picnicking with his mother, and occasionally his father as well, near the stream that flowed through their home village. But no one would willingly picnic by the Opthia, not after it had ingested the wastes of Borzim on its journey through the town.

  So, dog paddling with only their heads above water, the six of them were able to float unseen and unheard down the Opthia towards its exit from the town. Occasionally, a t'skrang head would surface near them, grab a breath, and dive back under. They passed crumbling walls; pipes which dribbled a noxious green goo into the water; and the occasional plant, leaves gray and limp, struggling to survive by the river bank. One sprawled across a pile of bones.

  Twice, they passed the bloated carcasses of pigs.

  T'shifa surfaced for a moment. "Almost there," she said. "Get ready to dive."

  Disconsolately, Viknis removed his broken lute from under his coat. "I'll catch up with you on the other side," he said, and set it floating ahead of him.

  As they floated around a gentle bend in the river, they saw the outer wall, stretching high above them. It spanned the river as well. Just above the level of the stream, a metal grill had been set in place to prevent anyone entering by water. Clearly, it had not done its job.

  "Dive!" said T'shifa, and they dived. It was hardest for Qua-lia, and for Atlan, so t'skrang seized their arms and dragged them downwards. Kendik counted himself a good swimmer, but he was no match for Anarya or Sezhina. The two of them swam as if born in the water, and they quickly drew ahead of him. Kendik forced himself grimly downwards. As he began to feel he had reached the limit of his endurance, he saw that a Name-giver-sized hole had been created in the bottom right corner of the grill. A t'skrang hung, seemingly effortlessly, in the water, ready to help him through. It was a squeeze—his body wasn't as limber as a t'skrang's—but eventually he made it, and shot upwards, almost banging his head on the base of the wall when he surfaced, drawing in great gulps of air.

  Sezhina, Anarya, and several of the t'skrang were already there, and Viknis and his mother popped up almost together. But Kend-ik was beginning to worry by the time Atlan appeared, gasping hoarsely. "Got stuck," Atlan said. "Pulled me through. Hurt leg."

  It was the most Kendik had heard him say since his beating.

  The wall must have been at least ten feet thick, and they were well sheltered beneath it. But T'shifa was anxious to be gone.

  "We can't stay here," she said. "This is the dangerous part. The defenders are looking out and down, so there's every chance they'll see you. Go right to the outside edge of the wall, take a deep breath, and dive. We'll help you."

  Animated by some vestige of the herd instinct, they moved together to the very edge of the overhang, looking out at the river ahead of them. On the right, there was a small dock that had sometimes been used by t'skrang trading vessels—those that were shallow-drafted enough to get up the river—in happier times. Now it was deserted. On the left, cut-down tree stumps separated the river from the fields beyond.

  "Now!" said T'shifa, and dove. This time, he felt a t'skrang claw close over his hand. He was pulled through the water faster than he would have thought possible. At first, it was exhilarating. Then it was terrifying, as he fought the overwhelming urge to breathe. Just as his mouth forced itself open against his will, the t'skrang let go of his hand, and he shot up to the surface, gasping for breath. Around him, he heard the others doing likewise. Then there was a new sound: a whir, a sizzle.

  "Dive!" called a familiar voice.

  Kendik never forgot what he saw as the t'skrang pulled him under again: an arrow, fletched with bubbles, sinking gently towards the murky bottom of the river. Another dizzying haul through the underwater world, another gasping return to the surface. Again they heard the whine of arrows, but this time, they fell short.

  "Now you can swim on the surface," said T'shifa. "I doubt they'll bother to use anything more powerful."

  So they did, letting the current—a little stronger here, outside the town—carry them downstream. Kendik looked back at the walls. Small figures swarmed, heads showing over the parapet. One or two more arrows sailed towards them, falling so far short that he could not hear them splash. As the river curved to the north, Kendik could see the West Gate, and the road that led to it from the dock.

  For all that had happened since they left the Houses of Garlen, it was still only mid-morning. The sun was shining. The fields on either side of the river had been abandoned by peasants and guards, and the birds had the pickings to themselves. A vole climbed out of the water and hurried off into the sedges at the river's edge. The scene was almost peaceful.

  They passed under the arched bridge that carried the main road from the West Gate across the river, then drifted on a little further before T'shifa said it was time to get out.

  They dragged themselves out on the east riverbank—last of all Viknis, who had been hoping to find his lute drifted up in the shallows. They made a sad and sorry bunch, dripping wet, stinking of the Opthia, and festooned with weeds. The gentle breeze was enough to start them shivering.

  "This way," said T'shifa, leading them off downriver.

  They had walked on no more than a hundred yards when trouble
sought them out. With a clank that echoed hollowly from the walls, the West Gate opened, and a group of black-clad horsemen sped out of Borzim towards the bridge.

  "You run!" said T'shifa, and disappeared back into the river.

  There was no point in concealment, for the Falcons had spotted them. Kendik's long strides took him quickly to the front, and Atlan was not far behind. A quick look back revealed Sezhina and Anarya matching strides behind him, but, to his alarm, he saw that Qualia was dropping well behind, and Viknis was staying with her. Part of his mind, colder and more calculating than he had thought himself to be, told him that Viknis and Qualia were, after all, expendable. The better part made him stop, and turn, and run back to aid them. Atlan turned and followed.

  Outdistancing his fellows rode a Falcon with spear poised. His cloak was thrown back, and his hair streamed in the wind. He was perhaps twenty strides behind Qualia and Viknis. He drew his arm back, ready to dispatch his chosen foe—and fell from the saddle, his heart pierced by a thrown dagger.

  "Good," said Atlan.

  The riderless horse raced past them. "Come on!" yelled Kend-ik, reaching Qualia and Viknis. The three of them put in an extra spurt of effort, though Qualia was grimacing with every gulp of breath. They were approaching a small rise in the land, no more than a hillock, but climbing it seemed to sap the last energy from their legs. As they reached the summit, running now almost in line abreast, Kendik heard Anarya cry out. An arrow from a Falcon's bow had lodged in her right arm, just below the shoulder. Sezhina and Kendik, two souls with one thought, grabbed her and carried her over the crest of the incline as more arrows flew past them.

  Then everything happened at once. Stretched out below them, next to the river, they saw the tents and fires of the t'skrang army. T'shifa called something from near the water's edge. And, from the grass around them, mighty figures rose, uttered a hoarse battle cry, and charged. The t'skrangs' ork mercenaries, guarding the encampment, had entered the fray.

  The orks had spears, and were on foot. The Falcons were mounted, and had spears, swords, and bows; but the Falcons, for all their fearsome reputation, were more suited to torturing and killing unarmed civilians than engaging in actual fighting with a determined foe. Besides, the orks had the advantage of surprise. In moments, three more horses were riderless, and the eight remaining Falcons had called off the attack. They circled out of spear range for a while, firing arrows—two of which found targets in ork flesh—before retreating to the comparative safety of the town with a final cry of "Death to the traitors!" lingering in the air.

  While Sezhina applied a tourniquet to Anarya's arm, Kendik looked back at the aftermath of the battle, at the orks tending to their wounded comrades and the group of horsemen returning to Borzim. How did one go about thanking an ork war band?

  He didn't get the chance. "Come on," said Sezhina. "We still need to get this arrow out of her, and Qualia's ribs need proper attention."

  Kendik and Sezhina shepherded their walking wounded through the lines of the t'skrang encampment, heading for the cluster of larger tents at its center. They were all pretty much done in—wet, cold, and hungry—and Kendik, at least, felt only a distant, inconsequential fear at being in the heart of the t'skrang forces. He was actually relieved to see T'shifa when she materialized from among the tents.

  "Food and medicine, then I'll take you to see Vulumensthetika. I'm sure she's looking forward to a little chat with you."

  "Is she the one responsible for all this, then?"

  T'shifa gave her dry laugh again. "Vulumensthetika? She'd like to think so, but no, she doesn't have that kind of power. We could have killed you in that tunnel, you know. Remember that when you speak with her."

  "Why aren't you dead?" asked Kendik.

  "You really must stop believing everything you're told," replied T'shifa. "My broken jaw was real enough, and the pain was intense, but it certainly wasn't fatal. Whoever told you it would be?"

  "You did," said Kendik.

  T'shifa laughed again. "Precisely."

  "You need someone looking after you, my lad," said Sezhina.

  "I'm sick of having someone look after me," Kendik replied irritably.

  "Stop bickering and get on with it, would you?" said Viknis. "We've got sick and injured people here."

  Abashed, Kendik let T'shifa lead them to the healers' tent. She left them just outside the entrance, promising to rejoin them later. "Don't hurry," muttered Kendik to her retreating back.

  No sooner had they entered than t'skrang descended on them from all directions. "I'm not wounded!" Kendik protested, as a richly robed t'skrang commenced upon an examination of his body that was rather more intimate than he was used to.

  They were all bumped, bruised, bloodied, and scraped. The t'skrang's healing magic flowed over Kendik like a warm balm, leaving him calm and refreshed. The t'skrang gave Anarya something to dull pain, then removed the arrow and used a combination of healing magic and bandaging to restore most of the use of her arm. They wanted to splint it, but Anarya refused.

  Qualia's ribs needed rest and time to knit together, but the t'skrang bandage would do a better job of protecting her than the field dressing Sezhina had applied. As for Atlan—he bore their attentions stoically, but other than resisting when they tried to take the blue stones from him to examine them, showed little reaction. "This one has been injured in mind and spirit, as well as in body," the chief healer, a slim oasis of calm amid the frantic activity, said. "We cannot heal such wounds here."

  "Will he get better?" asked Kendik.

  "I hope so," the healer replied. Then he turned to Viknis. "We do have something for what ails this one."

  "There's nothing wrong with me," said Viknis.

  "Your hands yearn for the touch of music," said the t'skrang. " And therefore ..." He waved, and another t'skrang came forward with a lute.

  "By Jaspree!" said Viknis. "This is good work. Not elvish, but good. Is it for me?"

  "While you are our guest, you are welcome to play it."

  Viknis was delighted, and entranced. His fingers explored the soundboard, the strings, the grain of the wood. Softly, hesitantly at first, he began to play.

  "That's that," said Qualia, coming over to join Kendik. "You won't get a word out of him for days."

  Kendik wasn't quite sure what to say to her. He and Sezhina had, after all, dragged Qualia and her son into the middle of a war, and fetched up on the other side of it.

  As if she had guessed his thoughts, Qualia grinned at him and said "Don't worry, young man. My whole life has been like this. One minute, I was a young woman in a village near Darranis, wondering whether anything worthwhile would ever happen in my life. The next, I was married, pregnant, and living in Vorst. Then my husband was killed in battle. Then I followed a man to Borzim. My previous partner in the guards was a man, too. When he retired and they decided I should teach Sezhina the ropes, I thought, at least a woman won't get me into any trouble. But these things happen. Sorry for anything bad I said when I was injured, Sezhina. My son's safe, and whatever you might think of these t'skrang, at least they're treating us well."

  "They'd be treating us a whole lot better if they gave us some food," said Sezhina.

  "Oh yes, food," said the chief healer, who evidently had sharp hearing. "My apologies. T'shifa says that Vulumensthetika requests the pleasure of your company in her tent for the afternoon meal."

  Chapter 14

  Fish. Kendik had never realized there were so many ways to cook fish. All of them, taken individually, were delicious, but after three fish courses, he didn't really feel he could look another fish in the gills. All the same, it would be rude not to at least pretend to enjoy the meal—especially as, to either side of him, piratish t'skrang were ingesting their meals with great and evident enjoyment, sucking down the succulent flesh and calling out for more.

  So he ate as few morsels as he could and used the opportunity to observe his companions and his surroundings. The diners were sitt
ing cross-legged inside a large tent, on a richly patterned carpet, with their plates, drinks, and utensils spread out in front of them on wooden platters. The plain canvas walls of the tent were decorated by tapestries of great subtlety and beauty, illustrating scenes from t'skrang history and mythology. Stylized riverboats and fearsome water creatures abounded. The diners were arranged in a rough oval, with Vulumensthetika at its head, surrounded by her courtiers and advisers.

  It had been clear from the first time Kendik met her that Vu-lumensthetika was a t'skrang of power and repute, but it was only now, seeing her in her pomp, that Kendik realized just how important she must be in House Ishkarat. He fingered the crumpled letter in his pocket. Maybe he should have tried a little harder to deliver it, and been less ready to throw it away.

  By accident or design, the humans had been separated from each other. To his left, and three t'skrang away, Atlan was sitting blankly, his half-eaten food in front of him. Further round the circle, Viknis and Qualia were one t'skrang apart, and that t'skrang was deep in conversation with Viknis, who was trying to persuade her to let him play a small reed flute the t'skrang had hung from a thong around her neck.

  To his right was Anarya, and beyond her Sezhina. Kendik desperately wanted to get some time alone with Anarya—his declaration of love in the tunnel, and her truncated response, were still replaying themselves in his head—but that didn't seem likely any time soon. Anarya was looking pale, even by her standards, but it had not stopped her from polishing off plenty of the fish-based delicacies on offer. She became aware of his gaze and smiled at him. Kendik, smiling back, was aware of an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with fish.

  Sezhina had been tucking into the food with all the enthusiasm of the professional adventurer who can never be sure when she will next get the chance to eat. But she, too, had caught Kendik's glance, and was now looking across at him as well. Kendik had never met a person whose true feelings were so hard to read. He had thought she was Anarya's lover. Now she claimed to be Anarya's aunt. Kendik didn't know what to believe, but he did know that it was much better to have Sezhina as a friend than an enemy.