A World of Secrets (The Firewall Trilogy)

by James Maxwell

  Ungar bent down to bring his face close to the bax’s cheek. He still hadn’t been noticed. It was only when the bax went to turn the bone around to get at the meat that he suddenly froze.

  The bone fell out of his hands.

  A moment later Ungar wrapped a hand around the bax’s throat and lifted him high. He stared into the bax’s eyes and spoke in his low, flinty voice.

  “Where . . . humans?”

  The bax’s legs dangled. His face contorted with horror as he took in Ungar’s size and features.

  Ingren spied movement and saw another bax heading their way. He was older than most of the others, with a wide belly and a cluster of spots on his scalp. She couldn’t help but be impressed as, unarmed, he strode toward Ungar. Ingren guessed he might be the village leader.

  “Let him go,” the old bax said grimly. Still holding his captive in the air, Ungar rested his fiery eyes on the newcomer, but the fat-bellied bax stood firm. “What do you want?” He then spoke directly to the bax in Ungar’s grip. “Hold on, Snix.” He shifted his legs apart. “Let him go.” He scowled at Ungar. “Now.”

  On the far side of the settlement, Ingren saw that the other bax were taking encouragement from their leader. More of them were fetching weapons.

  “Ungar . . .” she warned.

  “Where . . . humans?” Ungar demanded.

  “Three peaks,” Snix gasped.

  Ungar squeezed his hand.

  The movement was swift and sudden. A sharp crack split the air and the lean bax’s head lolled to the side. Ungar dropped the dead bax and waved for Ingren to follow him as he walked away from the village.

  Gorax crouched at Snix’s side. He glanced up and saw Den and Bagrat, along with a growing crowd of warriors. “He needs help! Someone get my wife.”

  “Warden,” Den said softly. “He is dead.”

  The crowd opened up and Gorax saw Breang’s familiar face. He felt a strong sensation of relief when he saw that his wife was unharmed, but then felt a flash of guilt. He touched Snix’s face and closed his glazed eyes. Conscious of the fearful faces around him, Gorax straightened.

  “What just happened?” Breang asked.

  Another voice spoke up. “What were those monsters?”

  “Giants,” someone replied.

  More bax were gathering, looking to their warden for answers. Mothers and their younglings stood beside proud hunters and warriors. Gorax knew it was his job to keep them all safe, and on this occasion he had failed. Even with Gravel Range close to the firewall, his villagers always had to be on the lookout for deadly predators and raiders who wanted to take what they had. Now they had a new threat to contend with.

  Gorax turned to stare in the direction Snix’s attacker had come from. He was pensive for a moment as his villagers waited for him to speak. “It appears the humans were telling the truth,” he said slowly. He made a sound of disgust and shook his head. “Horned giants . . . I thought they were just stories.”

  “What should we do?” Bagrat asked. The young warrior stood with his axe in hand.

  “What if everything else they said is true?” asked Den from her position beside Bagrat. “What if the humans are right, and the beast under the desert truly does give birth to the firewall?”

  Gorax clenched his jaw. As his thoughts took form, his heart began to beat faster. Momentous events were taking place. The humans wanted to bring down the firewall. They said there was a paradise on the other side.

  The giants wanted to find and kill the humans. Gorax counted Vance, Ruth, and Selena as friends.

  Making a decision, Gorax swept his gaze over the crowd, and when he spoke, his voice was determined. “All warriors are to assemble. We travel to the three peaks.”

  Breang’s expression was worried. “What about the sandstorm?”

  “We are the bax of Gravel Range,” Gorax said firmly. “A little dust and wind won’t stop us.”

  26

  Taimin stared at his sword. It was so close. At the same time, bound and guarded as he was, it was also impossibly distant. The sword rested on a wooden bench, not far from the fire pit, alongside his bow and Lars’s axe and skinning knife. Their packs sprawled on the ground underneath.

  Beside Taimin, also with his back against the rock wall, Lars had his eyes closed. Milton sat slumped and his gaze was unfocused; he looked as if he was in some sort of trance, perhaps trying to combat the aurelium that prevented him making full use of his talent.

  It was late afternoon. With most of the clan resting, it was quiet in the vast cavern the skalen called home. Yet among those awake was their guard. The skalen stood by the wall opposite the alcove with his javelin in hand. This time it was Neesal, the young golden-eyed skalen who was always eager to prove himself.

  Taimin realized that Neesal had noticed him staring at the sword. When the skalen scowled at him, Taimin looked away; he didn’t want to provide any reason for the young warrior to argue for his death.

  A shift in the slanted light pouring through the cavern’s entrance announced a newcomer as Kash entered the cavern. She had come and gone several times. Something was clearly troubling her. Ignoring Neesal, she began to walk toward the curtain that guarded the nest.

  “Clan Leader,” Neesal said.

  “Eh?” Kash turned her head and came to a halt. “What is it?”

  “Are we certain the trull is coming?”

  “Hara said she and Prin-tika would return after the full moon.”

  “And if they do not?”

  Kash’s nostrils flared, even as the tightness in her eyes indicated she had been worried about the same thing. She glanced outside. “We can only hope. There is a sandstorm coming. We all want these humans gone.”

  As Kash finished speaking, another skalen exited the nest, and Taimin felt a chill when he recognized Zaitan, the warrior with the fierce eyes and the pale scars on his face. Zaitan stretched to loosen his muscles and walked over to the rack of javelins at the back of the cavern. He selected his weapon and gave the javelin a quick check before heading toward Kash and Neesal.

  Zaitan gave the humans a cursory look of disdain. Taimin’s apprehension grew. Beside him, Taimin felt Lars struggle with his bonds.

  “This has gone on long enough,” Zaitan said. “We should kill them now.”

  Neesal nodded, clearly in awe of the older warrior.

  Kash glanced toward the cavern’s entrance as the sound of howling wind reached the residence. “Perhaps you are right,” she said. “The storm will come soon. Hara and Prin-tika may be delayed. Even if the humans do have friends, I would not expect them to travel in these circumstances.”

  As Taimin felt Milton’s eyes on him, he reflected on the fact that Selena had only had a chance to know her father for a single night. Taimin’s desperation made sweat break out on his forehead. He had to do something or he would never forgive himself.

  He was sure that if he could get to his sword, he could cut through his bonds. But between him and the wooden bench were three skalen, two armed with javelins and all with hunting knives at their belts.

  Catching movement, he turned his head to see more skalen exit the nest. When they noticed Kash, Zaitan, and Neesal contemplating their three prisoners, they didn’t hesitate to grab their weapons and head over.

  “We are going to kill the humans,” Neesal said to the newcomers. His golden eyes gleamed.

  “Who is going to do it?” The old skalen, Bron, frowned.

  Soon close to a dozen had gathered. Taimin’s plan of a dash to his sword was even more hopeless. He strained at his bonds, but his captors knew what they were doing.

  “I will do what must be done,” Zaitan stated.

  “Wait,” Kash said slowly. “I have yet to agree to this.”

  “Got any ideas?” Lars muttered to Taimin. “If we’re going to do something, now’s the time.”

  “There’s too many of them,” Taimin said under his breath. He thought furiously but no plan came to mind. Even if his wr
ists weren’t bound and he had his sword in hand, he would never be able to fight his way free of so many. “Milton?”

  Milton shook his head. He looked as if he was about to be sick.

  “What if we just let them go?” asked Bron. “They may get caught in the sandstorm. Either way, we will never see them again.”

  Kash considered the idea, but then shook her head. “No. There is too much risk. We have a unique source of aurelium, with no mining required, and they know about it. If we let them go, they will return with a hundred more of their kind.”

  “And if they are captured, they will talk,” another skalen said.

  Kash’s voice was troubled. “It is true that we cannot keep them captive forever,” she said. “And we cannot let them go.”

  Lars glanced at Taimin and then raised his voice. “Listen,” he called. “You can have your secret. There’s no need to kill us.”

  Ignoring Lars, Zaitan hissed at Kash. “What is it to be, Clan Leader?”

  Taimin waited as Kash came to her decision. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything he could say to convince the skalen to let them live. He couldn’t believe that he might be about to hear the announcement of his imminent death.

  When it came, he felt numb.

  “Fine,” Kash said. She nodded in Milton’s direction. “Start with the old one. He will struggle the least.”

  Taimin’s stomach churned. He had taken a risk to explore the three caves—he had known that—but he never thought it would come to this.

  “You will do it outside?” Bron asked Zaitan.

  “Of course. I am not a fool.” Zaitan considered his aurelium-tipped javelin and then passed it to Neesal. “Hold this. The knife is better.”

  Neesal puffed himself up, proud to be taking Zaitan’s javelin. In contrast, Zaitan’s tilted eyes were cold. He put a hand on the hilt of his hunting knife and drew it slowly. The blade of pale basalt wood was polished and glossy, reflecting the green light that filled the cavern.

  Knife in hand, Zaitan began to walk toward the three humans. He focused on Milton. Taimin no longer tried to hide his movements as he worked his wrists in one direction and then the other, but his bonds were too tight, and the leather too strong to break.

  Taimin’s legs weren’t bound. He could get up and charge. The one thing he knew was that he couldn’t sit by and watch Selena’s father taken away to be killed. It was the only plan he had. He shifted his legs and prepared to push himself to his feet.

  Zaitan stopped directly in front of Milton. As Milton looked up at the skalen in front of him, Taimin was surprised to see that some strength had returned to Milton’s expression.

  “I would stop now, if I were you,” Milton said softly.

  “You are in no position to make threats,” Zaitan said. He turned and waved a hand at Bron. “Give me a hand.”

  “Fine,” the bald skalen said, coming over. “But do not expect me to watch you do it.”

  When the pair of skalen moved, it was swift. They reached down, grabbed Milton under the arms, and hauled him to his feet.

  Taimin charged.

  Eyes on his sword, he shoved past the skalen holding Milton and through to the group behind them. Startled cries followed him as he began a lumbering race for his sword. But pain shot up his leg as his crippled foot held him back.

  It took only a moment for the onlookers to recover from their initial surprise. Neesal lunged to grab Taimin by the cord at his wrists. Another skalen joined in and kicked at Taimin’s ankles.

  Taimin collapsed. Strong hands rolled him over. Soon it was all over.

  Taimin found himself on his back, pinned in place by the javelin Neesal held to his neck. He saw the pair of skalen haul Milton toward the cavern’s entrance. Milton was allowing himself to be taken. His face was gray. He looked back at Taimin. Their eyes met.

  Taimin knew something terrible was about to happen. He couldn’t help thinking about Milton’s story. As a younger man, Milton had come to the desert filled with hope and conviction. He had sought to destroy the machine that powered the firewall in order to lead his family to a better life. He had dug and probed. He had taken risks that cost him his young daughter, and then his wife.

  Finally, Milton had discovered his daughter wasn’t lost to him after all.

  Even as Taimin watched, Milton’s expression changed. He planted his feet firmly on the floor. Encountering resistance, the two skalen on either side of him shoved, but he wouldn’t be easily moved.

  Taimin heard a soft voice in his mind.

  There is something I can do. Milton’s lips weren’t moving as he regarded Taimin with a steadfast expression. Be prepared. I have to tell you, you may be harmed also. I do not expect to survive. Promise me you will enter that machine and destroy it. And tell Selena . . . Tell her I’m sorry. You are a good man, Taimin.

  Milton looked up at the ceiling, as if staring through to the sky above. His eyes rolled back into his head.

  A scream burst like an explosion inside Taimin’s skull.

  The scream wasn’t audible, like a normal sound, but it was the most painful sound Taimin had ever heard. He was desperate to cover his head with his arms, but his hands were bound. He curled up in agony.

  His vision blurred as the pain went on and on. He was dimly aware of Milton standing near the entrance to the cavern, utterly motionless with his eyes eerily showing the whites. The ground was littered with skalen, all collapsed, heads in their arms and mouths open.

  Neesal’s javelin was gone from Taimin’s throat. The young skalen writhed on the floor nearby. Meanwhile Taimin struggled with the pain. Milton’s warning had prepared him for something, but it was little help. There wasn’t a skalen still standing. Kash was on one knee, trying to rise. The closest to Milton, Zaitan would be the first to make it to his feet. With his knife in hand, the scar-faced skalen began to straighten.

  Taimin knew he had to get up. He fought the pain, just as he had fought physical pain his entire life. He got up on one knee. With his jaw clenched tightly, he gradually managed to rise.

  Time slowed.

  Zaitan snarled. Milton’s eyes were unseeing. The silent scream went on. Zaitan lunged, light glinting from the pale blade in his hand. Each beat of Taimin’s heart was clearly separated from the next.

  Zaitan’s knife entered Milton’s chest near his heart.

  The scream abruptly stopped. The pain in Taimin’s head vanished. Milton’s eyes closed, and then his knees began to buckle. Zaitan yanked out his blade, and a widening circle of blood stained Milton’s clothing, a moment before he collapsed.

  Zaitan stood with his chest heaving. Milton lay in a crumpled heap a dozen feet from the cavern’s entrance.

  But then Milton’s eyes snapped open once more.

  He looked directly at Zaitan standing over him. Taimin didn’t understand what happened next, but the skalen holding the bloody knife shuddered. He gave a screeching, agonized cry. Zaitan frantically shook his head from side to side. His mouth was wide with horror. Whatever Milton was doing to him, it was terrible.

  All of a sudden, Zaitan plunged the knife into his own chest. Then the scar-faced skalen fell to the ground, right beside Milton.

  Milton’s body relaxed as his eyes closed for the final time. Aside from the howling wind outside, the cavern was silent. Selena’s father was dead.

  But Taimin’s heart still raced, pumping blood through his veins. Time sped up once more.

  Kash’s attention was on the two bodies near the entrance. Her warriors were prone on the ground. Taimin knew he had a narrow window of time to take action. He shot to the bench where his sword lay waiting and put his back to it. It took some fumbling with the scabbard, but the blade was sharp and the steel swiftly sliced through his bonds. The leather cord fell to the ground.

  Taimin grabbed his sword and Lars’s axe. He raced over to Lars. Slicing through Lars’s bonds, he hauled him to his feet.

  Taimin glanced at Milton.

 
; Lars grabbed Taimin’s shoulder. “He’s dead,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  Taimin and Lars ran together. The mouth of the cavern beckoned and then they burst free, out into the open air.

  Taimin was stunned by what he found outside. Grit stung his exposed skin. The howling wind swept through the wide basin as sand streamed down the sides. The sky was yellowed, blurring the setting sun. The three tall peaks loomed overhead.

  Taimin heard a cry and recognized Kash’s voice. They didn’t have much time before the skalen came after them.

  “This way,” Lars cried, grabbing Taimin’s upper arm as he headed toward the basin’s slope. His head jerked when he encountered resistance. “What are you doing?”

  Taimin pulled in the other direction. His attention was on the smallest of the caves. Lars tried to yank him away, but he wouldn’t be moved.

  “I have to go in there,” Taimin said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

  “Are you insane?”

  “I promised Milton.” Taimin stared into Lars’s eyes. “We won’t get another chance.” He nodded in the direction Lars had been running. “You go. But I have to do this.”

  “Fine,” Lars grunted. “Do what you need to do. I’m leaving.” He hurried away without another word.

  Taimin hobbled alone toward the vertical gash at the bottom of the rock formation. Gusts of wind blew one way and then another as he passed the cactus grove. Only a few moments had passed since he’d left the skalen behind, but he still cast a swift glance in the direction he and Lars had just left, and kept his sword in hand. If he was attacked, he planned to fight back.

  He sensed movement and his gaze shot to the side.

  Lars caught up to him again. “Don’t you see?” he said. “That’s the first place they’ll look for us.”

  “After all we’ve been through, I have to know what’s in there,” Taimin replied. “I have to know the truth.”

  A strong flurry of wind punched into Taimin’s back just as he reached the cave’s thin mouth. He plunged inside with Lars just behind. Immediately the wind’s roar lessened.