ALSO BY JAMES MAXWELL
THE FIREWALL TRILOGY
A Girl From Nowhere
EVERMEN SAGA
Enchantress
The Hidden Relic
The Path of the Storm
The Lore of the Evermen
THE SHIFTING TIDES
Golden Age
Silver Road
Copper Chain
Iron Will
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by James Maxwell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542005258
ISBN-10: 1542005256
Cover design by @blacksheep-uk.com
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
For my daughter, Evelyn, with all my love
CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1
Taimin was a hunter, but out in the wasteland he also had to avoid becoming prey. Some creatures were more dangerous than others. Among the worst were the ones with horns.
With his bow clutched in his right hand, he lay on his stomach and slid his body forward, inch by inch. His eyes were on a row of pricklethorn bushes that screened the menacing creature on the thicket’s other side.
The sand lizard behind the bushes was a monster, at least seven feet long. And if it chose to charge, Taimin would never outrun it. Even as Taimin crept toward the edge of the wiry scrub, the sand lizard swept its head from side to side, using its trio of sharp horns to tear bright berries from thorn-covered branches. Strong jaws crunched at the hard fruit, stones and all. The same jaws could bite through the thickest part of a man’s leg.
Taimin carefully nocked an arrow to his bowstring.
This would be his last chance to hunt before entering unknown lands. As dangerous as it was, the sand lizard would provide meat for five hungry travelers. Taimin was alone, but this was a region he knew well. He had grown up above the cliffs bordering the plain, and as a boy he often gazed upon the rugged landscape he now found himself hunting in.
Two suns beat down on Taimin’s back as he watched the gray-skinned lizard lumber closer and closer to his position. A warm breeze blew, dry and smelling of dust. A nearby ravine offered the promise of shade, but he wouldn’t allow himself to rest; not until he’d made his kill. He no longer had Griff, his wherry companion. His right foot was crippled, so he had to sneak up on his prey.
When the moment came, Taimin would stand in a single swift movement. The sand lizard might run, but Taimin would be close. He was a good shot. His arrow would find its mark.
His heart began to race as he prepared himself. He tensed, utterly focused on the horned lizard.
Raucous caws came from the sky. A raptor appeared, then another, until a sizable group of predatory birds swooped toward the sand lizard’s position. Taimin had seen for himself the damage they could do to a big creature, pecking with their sharp beaks until their prey was too wounded to move. Taimin cursed under his breath as the sand lizard froze, turning its head to look at the ugly, beady-eyed birds.
The lizard started to run.
Taimin stood quickly, but already the sand lizard had plunged into the thicket, heedless of the grasping thorns. Fast for its size, the lizard emerged from the bushes and raced toward the nearby gully to escape the raptors.
The raptors passed overhead and Taimin let his arrow fly into their midst. Loud screeches came from above when the birds noticed him. They were smart enough to avoid Taimin and his bow, and as a dead raptor fell from the sky, the rest became fearful and scattered.
Taimin whirled to see the sand lizard vanish into the ravine’s depths. He burst into a run, moving with the hobbled gait that was the best he could manage. He reached the gully’s lip to climb down the rocky slope.
He found himself standing inside the shadowed interior. The ravine was deep enough to place him in near-darkness, and he readied another arrow as he waited for his vision to adjust. At any moment the angry lizard could charge.
He saw a long, gray shape up ahead.
The sand lizard had reached the end of the ravine and come to a dead end. Cornered, it turned back to face Taimin and parted its jaws to reveal curved, yellow teeth. The creature gave a hoarse, threatening hiss.
Seeing how close the lizard was, Taimin’s pulse quickened as he watched carefully. He knew he would only get one shot. With a fluid movement, he drew his bowstring to his cheek and sighted along the arrow. He held his breath.
The sand lizard lowered its horns and charged.
Taimin’s bowstring thrummed. His arrow slammed into the lizard’s tapered skull. The creature gave a convulsion, then sprawled out onto the dirt.
Taimin remained tense. With wary footsteps, he approached the lizard. Glazed eyes told him it was dead. Then he came to a sudden halt. Something new had seized his attention.
Bones. Human bones, without a doubt.
After Taimin’s initial shock, he crouched just a few paces from the dead lizard. Filled with a mixture of horror and pity, he saw a skull, dry and whitewashed by the elements, with teeth bared in a grimace and gaping holes for eyes. Part of a rib cage lay nearby, along with thick leg and arm bones.
He wondered who the human had been in life. It was an adult, but could have been male or female. This person had died in the gully alone, probably long before Taimin’s family came to build their homestead past the top of the cliffs, near the firewall’s edge.
For a long time Taimin stared at this reminder of the fate that might await him. Survival wasn’t easy in the wasteland. His back itched, making his head jerk round, but he was still alone in the ravine. He turned his attention to the lizard. It was so big he would have to throw it over his shoulder.
He would be carrying fresh meat. And the walk back to the cave where he had left the others wasn’t a short one.
There were even bigger beasts around that might want what he had.
Selena stood on the edge of the plain, near the bottom of the cliffs. Her eyes were tight with worry.
The rays of the golden sun Dex merged with the crimson glow of Lux to wash the landscape in bright light. Her gaze roved over a region of snaking gullies and rocky knolls, where raptors fluttered on gnarled trees, lizards peeked from shadows, and cactuses stood with arms up
right as if paying homage to the cloudless sky. Cracks and crevices in the dry ground provided places for creatures to hide from both predators and the savage heat. The shades of red were countless, ranging from the rusted color of the dirt to the amber hue of rock formations.
Taimin had said they had just this one day to prepare for the onward journey. They would take the opportunity to repair weapons, replenish water, and gather meat while there was good hunting on the plain. Tomorrow morning they would be leaving this area behind, to travel where none of them had ventured before.
She wished he hadn’t insisted on hunting alone.
He had said he would be back while the golden sun was still high in the sky, but soon it would be sinking into the plain. She watched and gnawed at her lip. Beneath her worry was frustration.
Once she would have been able to use her talent to search the plain from high above, traveling from place to place with ease. Her body would stay where it was, but her consciousness would roam. This ability was called farcasting and, as a mystic, it was what she had been born to do.
But Selena’s power was gone.
Every time her eyes became unfocused and she searched for her symbol and the radiance inside her mind, there was nothing there. She had tried again and again, desperate to grasp her inner fire and free herself from her physical form, but all she found was emptiness.
She knew the loss of her power came from the time when she was back in Zorn and stood face to face with an enemy: a snarling, pinch-faced man who prepared to plunge a dagger into her chest. To defeat Arren, the mystic who had tormented her, she had been forced to find his weakness. Like her, Arren had been born with a power he couldn’t understand. His mother had despised him and called him cursed. Selena had used her talent to learn about her enemy and his difficult childhood, and then she had deployed this knowledge against him. She had taken him back to his past, and used the memory of his mother to cow him into submission. His fatal wounds had done the rest.
Selena’s actions had saved her life, but she had recoiled at what she had done.
And since that time, she hadn’t been able to farcast.
Without the ability that was as much a part of her as breathing, Selena felt crippled, just as Taimin surely felt about his foot. She could only search for Taimin with her normal vision. She stared at every rock and cactus on the plain as dread squeezed at her chest.
Where was he?
She turned to glance back at the cave. The tall, jagged entrance was shadowed, but she knew that Ruth, Vance, and Lars were inside. She decided that when the golden sun touched the horizon, she would ask them to help her look for him. Taimin might be out there somewhere, in trouble, too far away to call for help.
He shouldn’t have gone out alone.
The yellow sun became orange as it fell, little by little. Selena glanced at the cave again. It was time. He should have been back long ago.
Her eyes caught movement on the plain.
She held her breath. A figure moved across the sun, heading at an angle toward her. Gradually a man’s shape became clearer, walking with a slight limp. The tension went out of her body. Taimin was burdened with something: a big weight on his shoulders. His limp was no worse than normal. Tall and broad-shouldered, with bristling brown hair and dark stubble on his cheeks, he was too far away for her to see his eyes, but she knew they were the same color as his hair. His eyes were kind and gentle, like him. His jaw was square, and his eyebrows gave him a curious, wistful expression.
Even distant, she caught the flash of his teeth as he saw her and waved. And there was Griff, a big creature, racing behind him to catch up.
Wait.
Griff was now a wyvern. He wasn’t with them anymore.
“Taimin!” she screamed. She waved her arms frantically. He smiled and waved back.
The creature was the size of a wherry, but it had horns, and wherries didn’t have horns. Selena’s heart beat out of time as she realized it was a firehound, charging toward Taimin from behind.
Taimin’s head turned sharply. Dropping his burden, he whirled.
The huge firehound slammed into him. As Taimin and the firehound rolled together, everything was confused.
Selena burst into a run. Her breath came in gulps. She saw Taimin on top, and then the firehound. A long knife was in Taimin’s hand. He plunged it into the firehound’s flank again and again.
The firehound stopped moving. Taimin tried to return to his feet, but all of a sudden he weaved. He wobbled for a moment, then crumpled.
Selena sprinted as fast as she could, her feet pounding at the dirt and rock. As the distance shrank, she saw Taimin’s face in profile. He was grimacing, sitting on the ground. Just a few paces away, the huge firehound lay dead with deep wounds in its side.
Taimin yanked at his right boot to pull it off. After a few grunts of pain, he focused on his foot and massaged it with both hands.
Selena came to a halt, red-faced and panting. “Taimin—”
“Don’t look,” he snapped. He tried to shuffle so he had his back to her.
Selena couldn’t stop herself from staring. Taimin always tried to keep his childhood injury hidden, even from her. The entire foot had a misshapen, right-angled look. His toes were squashed together and one bone was prominent along the top, forming a ridge. But as bad as his injury was, the firehound’s attack had made it worse. The side of Taimin’s foot was red and inflamed, the rest bruised blue and purple.
Taimin glanced over his shoulder and flushed with shame when he saw her. He returned his attention to his foot and rubbed at the flesh, gritting his teeth as pain contorted his face.
Selena crouched at his side. She couldn’t see any other wounds. “How bad is it?” she asked him, meeting his eyes.
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“I’ll get help.”
Taimin shook his head. “I don’t need help,” he said briskly. When Selena frowned, he looked at her and softened his tone. “You have to trust me. I’m fine.”
For a moment she stared into his face, and as he stopped rubbing his foot, she saw that his breathing had evened out and his color had returned. Soon he was grabbing his boot and pulling it back on.
Selena wanted to help him, but instead she glanced at the firehound. “I’ve never seen one that big.”
“Me either,” he said, following her gaze. The creature’s horns were frightening. Taimin climbed to his feet, spurning her outstretched hand. “We should go before the scavengers come.”
He limped over to the sand lizard he had been carrying before the firehound struck. With a great heave, he threw it over his shoulder.
Selena drew in a sharp breath. “Are you sure—?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be better by morning. Come on. We’re not safe out here.”
Selena shook her head but stayed silent. As they traveled in the direction of the cave—one of a multitude that lined the base of the towering cliffs—she turned her head to gaze up the heights, where a steep trail led up to the escarpment. Wyverns soared high above. The wasteland was never without danger.
Her thoughts were grim. If she had been able to farcast, she could have spoken in Taimin’s mind to warn him about the firehound. Today, Taimin was alive. But tomorrow he might not be.
“Don’t look so anxious,” Taimin said. He gave her a smile, a real one. “We’re alive. We have each other.”
Selena didn’t return his smile. “But we’ve still got a long way to go.”
2
Vance had his blades laid out in front of him on the cave’s sandy floor. He liked order and precision when it came to his weapons, and each was placed neatly beside the other: a long knife and a short knife, both with bone handles fixed to pale basalt wood, and beside them a thin steel skinning knife. His composite bow, as well-made as they came, rested on a cloth by his knees, and both the stock and the string glistened with freshly applied oil. His sword required the most attention of all. The hardwood blade lay
across his lap as his hand made circles over the edge with a smooth stone.
As he honed the sword, he grimaced. Usually he found caring for his weapons something that relaxed him. With his neat flaxen hair and his trimmed beard and moustache, he liked civilized ways. But away from Zorn, not everyone was civilized.
An unpleasant scratching sound filled the cave, much louder than the singing whisper of the stone against the hardwood blade. Vance glared. The ragged sound came from Lars, who sat on a rock, tearing a rectangular piece of coarse leather into strips with his knife. Each long, drawn-out rasp made Vance’s skin crawl.
Lars was a burly man, hairy everywhere except his head, which was as bald as a wyvern’s egg. His eyes were dark and moody, and a thick black beard covered his chin. Vance often wondered about the rover’s past, surviving by his wits in the wasteland, trading skins as he roamed from place to place. But Lars wasn’t the type to share stories.
Lars noticed Vance watching him. The skinner’s eyes rested on the sword across Vance’s lap. “You ever going to finish? I could use some help turning this into cord.”
Vance scowled. “A good edge takes time,” he said. The stone in his hand kept moving, even as he spoke. “Why do you need cord?”
“If you hadn’t spent your life in a city, you’d know there’s always a need for cord. Tying meat. Wrapping skins. Bundling arrows.”
Vance thought it sounded like a waste of time. “We’ve got this one day to prepare and you’re making cord? If I were you, I’d be looking to that axe of yours.” He glanced at the weapon, propped up against the wall of the cave near the older man. “Test the edge. It’s blunt.”
Lars tore off another strip of leather and grunted. “It is not.”
“Show it to me.”
Setting down the leather and knife, Lars pushed himself to his feet. His back made a cracking sound and, not for the first time, Vance wondered at the skinner’s age. Lars grabbed his axe and brought it over.
Vance took the weapon. The axe was short but heavy, with a haft of timber and a half-moon blade of bone. Vance ran the edge of the axe over his forearm, pushing it against the hair. “See?”
“What about it?”
A World of Secrets (The Firewall Trilogy) Page 1