Several hours later, they crested a hill and the northern gates of Daltura came into view. Relief swept through Calen when he saw that Daltura still stood. A gathering of people stood outside the gates by the time they arrived. Cheers and cries of joy filled the air as several children ran into the arms of their parents and loved ones. Others wept with realization that their parents were either gone or dead.
Word of Calen’s bravery and accomplishment swept through the town. They hailed him as a hero, but he didn’t feel like one. In fact, as the minutes rolled on, he grew further distraught over his aunt. He looked around. So many faces he knew were missing. To make matters worse, he had no idea where the horde of infected went.
How will I ever find Aunt Tahmara?
He pushed through the crowd and made his way back to the northern gates. They’d already been drawn shut and secured. He dropped to his knees and cried. A hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up through blurry eyes, and, just for the briefest moment, thought the hand belonged to his aunt.
He knew better. Knew it couldn’t be her. But it devastated him further nonetheless when he finally recognized Mrs. Dougett.
“Calen, I’m so glad you’re safe. And the children!” She bent down and hugged his neck. Tight. So tight he couldn’t breathe. He tapped her arm several times before she relinquished her death grip. “Oh, my! I’m so sorry! Your bravery just got me so worked up.” She kissed his cheek.
Calen wiped the wet from his cheek. “I need to get back out there. My Aunt Tahmara needs me.”
Mrs. Dougett stood back up. “I won’t stop you, Calen, but perhaps you’d like a warm meal, something to drink, and some supplies for your journey.”
He’d forgotten about his dry throat and empty stomach, but the thought of food set his stomach rumbling again. “I’d appreciate that. But it needs to be quick. I’ve lost so much time already.”
“Of course. I’ve got a smattering of breakfast items prepared already. I’m so used to Mr. Dougett always being there that I made enough for him as well. Speaking of Mr. Dougett, please look out for him as you search for your aunt.”
Calen nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
She proffered her hand. “Come with me. Regain some strength and then go do what you must.” Calen took her hand, and she helped him to his feet.
Twenty minutes later, Calen had a full belly and a pack with enough food for a good week slung over his shoulders. A bedroll sat atop the pack, attached to it with leather straps. He wore a new pair of trousers, or at least new to him. They were Mr. Dougett’s, and fit surprisingly well after rolling the cuffs a few times. Two sheathed daggers hung from his belt, along with a small coin purse with enough money for additional supplies, if needed.
At the town gates, he said his goodbyes to the dozen or so people gathered to see him off and promised to send word once he located the infected horde of Daltura citizens. One of the townsmen unbarred the gate and opened it just wide enough for Calen to slip through. No one offered to accompany him, nor did anyone offer him a horse for his potentially long journey. He didn’t expect either and held no sort of grudge or resentment toward the people for not providing them. As it was, he’d received far more support than he deserved from Mrs. Dougett. He’d never forget her kindness.
Calen stepped through the gates. They slammed shut behind him, sending his pulse soaring. He walked north on shaky legs for a hundred yards before his feet stopped moving. A flurry of activity stirred in his stomach as doubt crept into his mind. He looked north and then east, unsure of where he should go. The hills blocked his view in both directions, and footprints and trampled grass and bushes marred the landscape everywhere he looked. His heart sank.
Aunt Tahmara… How will I ever find you again when I don’t know which way you’ve gone? Ƨäʈūr help me.
Chapter Nineteen
Through the evening and into the night, Nardus traversed the dirt roads of East Hotah, but found no sign of Theyn. In fact, he found few signs of any sort of activity. Most of the houses remained dark through the starless, moonless night, turning the roads into an inkwell of shadows and darkness. East Hotah housed the poor and elderly, so it hadn’t surprised him to find it so. Most couldn’t afford spare candles.
As the morning sun crept up from the west, he made his way across the long and narrow bridge that connected East Hotah with West Hotah. In his single past experience, West Hotah had crawled with people and activity, but few people moved about that morning. Not that much time had passed since he last set foot on her roads, but she seemed to be a much different city than he remembered.
Merchants kept close to their stands, caution in their eyes and fear in their voices when they spoke of the many things they sold. Many of them openly brandished weapons, and some of the shop keepers kept their doors closed. Had he not recognized the city, he might’ve thought he’d come through the wrong mirror.
Many people went about their business, but the throngs of people he remembered wading through seemed to have disappeared. The further he walked, the harder he listened to the whispers and murmurs and hushed talk exchanged between merchants and customers. When asked, they told him nothing. They knew he didn’t belong there. An outsider.
But I’m here to help. He knew it made little difference.
Nardus began to wonder if Theyn had come here at all or if she’d become stuck between places—between worlds. But then a familiar tale caught his ear. A young woman spoke of a wild beast roaming the night and tearing people apart, limb by limb. She had no firsthand knowledge or many details of the attacks, so he continued his search.
As he neared the heart of the city, the rumors of this wild beast became more detailed. Several people described the beast as a large cat with a tan coat and sharp claws. Blood-stained jaws and front paws. If the stories were to be believed, as Nardus did, the cat hunted people both day and night, singling out those known for their nefarious endeavors. A relentless nightmare.
To compound matters, he heard disturbing rumors of an infection that had spread throughout the city, turning people into pale, black-veined vegetables, their eyes black and distant. But then yesterday, all of the infected rose from their beds and started leaving the city, toward the west. None of them were responsive when confronted, and none could be kept from heading toward some unknown destiny unless restrained. Those who were restrained cried out for their master ceaselessly. The thought terrified Nardus more than Theyn did.
To whom do they cry for?
Finally, Nardus came across a merchant who claimed that a wizard with fiery red hair had taken down the beast and dragged it off. Immediately, he knew that the man spoke of Joriah. If true, Theyn would be safe.
But is Joriah?
Nardus traversed roads and hills until he finally recognized Joriah’s house atop a distant hill, its red door a beacon of familiarity among a sea of houses with yellow and blue doors.
He made his way over to the small hill it stood upon and traversed the stone path that led from the gate to the front of the cottage. He pummeled the door with his fist. After a minute or so, Joriah answered the door, far more unkempt than normal with a red beard several inches long hanging from his jaws.
Joriah’s kind, teal eyes flashed with recognition. “Nardus! What brings you back to West Hotah?” He proffered his hand, but Nardus didn’t take it.
Nardus peered around Joriah’s slim frame and into the single-room home. “You know why I’m here, Joriah. I’ve come for Theyn.”
“Theyn?” Joriah scoffed. “You and I both know she’s dead.”
Nardus shook his finger at Joriah, his patience all but gone. “She’s not dead, and you know it. What have you done with her?”
“I don’t understand. We all saw her die.”
Nardus couldn’t read Joriah’s face, but the man had to be lying. “Step aside, or I will force you to.”
Joriah shook his head and stepped aside. “I assure you that Theyn isn’t here. As far as I
know, she died the day we took you to Pravus. So, why is it that you’re really here?”
Nardus stepped past him, purposely knocking Joriah a step backward with his shoulder. “Open the basement, or I will tear this house down.”
“You won’t find what you’re looking for down there.”
“Then open it up and prove it.”
Joriah sighed and obliged. The floor moved away and revealed the stairway leading down into the basement of the house. Nardus descended into the darkness, Joriah right on his heels.
Joriah snapped his fingers and the basement lit up. “I assure you she’s not here.”
A room with its door closed sat in the far back corner. Nardus guessed Joriah held Theyn there. He rushed over to the door and tried the handle, but it was locked. “Unlock the door.”
“She’s not in there,” Joriah insisted.
Nardus glared at Joriah. “Unlock the damned door before I kick it in!”
Joriah sighed and unlocked the door, but then he hesitated. He peered up at Nardus, steel in his eyes. “You will speak to no one about what you see in there. Understood?”
“What have you done to her?” Nardus tried to push Joriah out of the way, but the man held his ground.
A look of dark determination hung on Joriah’s face, and mezhik crackled and arced across his fingertips with orange light. Nardus didn’t think Joriah capable of such malice, but how well did he know the man?
Not well at all.
Joriah’s jaw tightened. “Agree, or you will not enter this room.”
Nardus took a deep breath and staved his anger. “As you wish.”
The orange light faded from Joriah’s fingertips. “After you.” The door swung open and Joriah stepped out of the way.
Nardus entered the dark room. Something lurked in the shadows across the room, massive and hulking. Ragged, drawn-out breaths sounded from the beast. Irregular. Forced.
Joriah stepped into the room and snapped his fingers. Light filled the room, chasing away all the shadows. A cage with thick, iron bars stood two feet from Nardus, but that wasn’t what caught his breath. The beast lying on the far side of the cage did.
No, not a beast. A man.
Nardus’s mind couldn’t process the images relayed through his eyes. He turned toward Joriah but kept his eyes on the man in the cage. “What in Ef Demd Dhä have you done?”
† † †
“Don’t you dare try and lay the blame of this on me!” shouted Joriah.
Nardus leaned against the wall and slid down until his butt reached the floor. He pulled his hair back and stared at the ceiling. “Then explain what happened. How did Berggren wind up in a cage in your basement?”
“Don’t you get it? Theyn’s death drove him over the edge. Imagine losing both of your children in a matter of weeks.” Joriah glared at Nardus. “By the hand of one man. He roamed the roads like a drunken bear, leaving a path of destruction everywhere he went.”
Nardus rubbed his left bicep. He knew all too well what something like that could do to a man. Oddly enough, their situations were quite similar. They both thought they’d lost a daughter that turned up alive. But Berggren didn’t know. Couldn’t be reasoned with in his current state.
“So Berggren’s the beast that people saw you subdue…”
“I’m certain that’s the case. As I said, until you walked through my door, I was certain Theyn had died. Now, given your determination to find her, I’m not so sure.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Berggren, but you must realize that I wasn’t responsible for Shaul’s death. Nor Theyn’s, since she’s not dead.”
“Then we must find her before someone else does.” He stuck out his hand. “We’ve no time to waste.”
Nardus took Joriah’s hand and pulled himself up. “Do you know the places she might go?”
Joriah cocked his head. “There are only a few I can think of. Perhaps three.”
“Good. We should split up.”
“Agreed. You can search Baker Road on the lower westside of West Hotah, and I’ll search the other two in the heart of the city.”
“Baker Road? How will I find it?”
“Simple. Head southwest from here and let your nose guide you. The smell of freshly baked bread is like no other.”
Nardus stood with his arms akimbo. “Fine, but why do you get to search two locations?”
“There are many reasons beyond the odd number of three. For one, I’m a wizard and can travel much quicker than you. I also know where these places are. You’d certainly get lost trying to find them.” Joriah smiled smugly. “Is that good enough reason, or should we waste more time arguing about it while Theyn’s out there possibly terrorizing people or perhaps being hunted.”
Nardus brooded but nodded. “As you say. We’ll meet back here?”
“Yes.” Joriah reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew a foot-long zabatana, a quiver with four three-inch-long darts, and a bottle of grayish-blue liquid. “Use these to subdue her.” He handed the items to Nardus. “Be warned that it’ll take a few minutes to take effect though. Rest assured, she’ll be torqued off about it.”
Nardus slipped the blow tube into his right trouser pocket and strung the small quiver onto his belt. The bottle intrigued him. He held it up to the light. “What’s in this?”
“A liquid form of Níƨzhäíd bəllū. It’s extremely potent.” Joriah smiled wryly. “From what I’ve heard, you’re familiar with its effects. Quite the sedative, wouldn’t you say?”
Nardus understood and ignored Joriah’s jab. Theyn had used níƨzhäíd bəllū on him several times on the boat ride from Incendia Island to West Hotah. “It is.” He smiled to himself as he pocketed the bottle.
A bit of payback, if necessary.
He followed Joriah out of the room and back upstairs.
Joriah faced Nardus, his face as grim as the reaper himself. “Baker Road. Don’t forget, and be careful.”
Nardus nodded. “You as well.” He grabbed for his coin purse, but it didn’t hang from his belt. He reached over his shoulder and couldn’t locate the familiar hilt of Brinzhär Dädh either. In fact, he didn’t have any of his things. Panic held him in its grasp for several seconds before he remembered all the events leading up to this moment.
Pravus has everything. Damn him.
“Is there a problem?” asked Joriah.
“I seem to have left all my things with Pravus, including coin.”
Joriah smiled and reached into his coin purse. He withdrew four copper pieces and handed them to Nardus. “That should afford you a sizable chunk of bread and a bit of cheese.”
“I can’t—”
Joriah waved him off. “Think nothing of it. See you back here soon.” Joriah disappeared in a flash of his twisting red cape.
“Mezhik,” Nardus snarled. He shook his head but refrained from spitting on Joriah’s clean floor. He pocketed the coins and headed out the door.
The cool morning air brought a touch of life back into his bloodshot eyes and tired lungs. He didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d slept, but it didn’t matter. His friends were in peril and nothing would keep him from doing what was necessary to rescue them, not even sleep.
With dogged determination, he marched down the hill and toward a place named Baker Road.
But will I find Theyn there?
† † †
Nardus loved Theyn. Not quite like he did Vitara, but Vitara was his first love. How could he expect to ever love Theyn in the same way?
I never shall.
For some reason, the thought of seeing them both in the next life left him feeling dirtier than he already did. But would they both be there? Would he? He hadn’t reconciled his differences with Ƨäʈūr yet, but he’d begun to understand that some things in life are driven by evil and not sanctioned or condoned by Ƨäʈūr.
But He allows that evil to thrive.
&n
bsp; Or… am I the one who allowed it? Had I been faithful, would things have turned out differently?
He pushed the thought from his mind and focused on his surroundings. Something smelled ripe with sweat. Upon further inspection, he found the source of the stench to be himself. He desperately needed a bath and a shave. His face and neck itched something fierce.
Nardus rubbed his left bicep. The scar remained, but the memory faded with every season. Reuniting with Shanara, his daughter who now went by Aria, had changed him. Changed his priorities. From that moment in the cell, he began focusing on what he had and not what he’d lost.
Shanara will eventually come around. She must.
Nardus wouldn’t settle for anything less.
He pushed his hand through stringy, oily hair. When had he last bathed? An image of the old woman in the pool filled his mind, the tops of her long, wrinkled breasts bobbing on the water’s surface. He shuddered as her hand latched onto the inside of his thigh once again. Her words rang in his ears. “Stave your anger, hold your tongue, and opportunity will present itself.”
The opportunity couldn’t come quick enough. Pravus needed to die. The bastard had a hand in all the strife in Nardus’s life.
One day, he will pay for everything he’s done. He’d make sure of it.
Nardus stuffed the last bit of bread in his mouth. The bread helped return some of his energy and drove away his hunger pangs, but it did nothing to ease his mind. He’d had no luck finding Theyn thus far and hoped Joriah’s fortune had fared better.
Screams and shouting erupted somewhere down the road from where Nardus stood. He rushed forward, swallowing the bread as he ran. The shouts grew louder as he neared an intersection with another road. He slid to a stop as he rounded the corner, his heart thrashing in his chest and his lungs afire.
A blonde-haired woman lay in the road in a pool of blood. She didn’t move, her throat torn open and her head at an awkward angle. Nardus’s first thought was that the woman was Theyn, but he knew better. His eyes moved farther down the road. Two men held ropes, stretched taut in opposite directions.
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