Kelfor- the Orthomancers

by Gillian Andrews

  I spin hastily away. I try to unsee it. I am not a speaker of the land. It is not my place to recognize the paths the Inmuri have to take. Especially after that oath. I hope nobody has noticed my inquisitiveness.

  Kalyka is pivoting, about to do the same as I have. I shake her slightly, to stop her. She stares, surprised. Her eyes rebuke me. I bend down to hug her. “Sorry, sweetie.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  I laugh. “Of course not. I was worried you might fall.”

  She isn’t convinced, but accepts what I say. I feel guilty yet again. Will this stupid sense of blame ever go away?

  Karith has walked up to the largest natural stack in the area. She grins at us and points a finger up. My eyes widen. “Up there? You can’t mean we have to climb that thing!”

  “I’m afraid so. That is the entrance.”

  I look at her as if she is mad. She shrugs. “That is the secret way into the Rift of the Timeworn.”

  Furian is already uncoiling the rope he carries around his body. He signals to Doven, who obediently stations himself below the stone stack. Furian scrambles onto the boy’s shoulders so that he is able to stretch up to a small fault in the stone stack. He pulls himself up.

  It takes him around a quarter of an hour, but he is soon standing on the flat stone which caps the slab. He ties the rope securely.

  Karith is the next up. She lets Furian hoist her past the last few handholds. They shift to the back of the slab. I can see them discussing what to do. Furian crouches and looks to be pushing at something.

  Karith bends to help. They struggle again for a moment. There is a dull scraping sound. They hug each other.

  Furian comes back to the site of the rope. Linnith is the next up. She hurries to her mother, looks down, hugs her.

  Vannis is next. He pulls himself up easily.

  Zivan is hampered by Kalyka. She escorts the small girl up, helping her over the difficult places, making sure she cannot fall.

  Ammeline nearly does fall and has to be pulled up by Zivan and Furian. Vannis stands by laughing at her.

  That means only Doven and I are left. Doven puts out one hand. “After you, Remeny.”

  I nod. I am used to this. It is not a problem for me to get to the top. Doven comes up after me. I see him scout quickly around first to remove any signs that we were here. There are none. We have been walking on solid rock all morning. In any case, I can’t see how the Scoriats could possibly find this one column amidst thousands.

  Doven pulls himself up and over the edge of the slab. He unties the knot and reclaims the rope, raising his eyebrows in question to Furian before fastening it around his own body.

  We walk over to where the others are standing. They have uncovered a hole down the center of the stack. I can’t see the bottom. The stone is smooth, but there are occasional small ledges. Not exactly steps, but a place to snag your shoes.

  Furian points to the shaft. “We will let most of you down by rope. Doven and I will cover the top of the shaft again and climb down.” He beckons. “Zivan first.”

  Zivan seems surprised at the honor of going first. She wraps the rope quickly around herself, fashioning a sort of sling, and disappears into the hole. After about twenty seconds, a double pull on the rope tells us she is down.

  I am the last to go. My only difficulty is to stop the rope from twisting, from bumping me against the side of the shaft of rock. I am soon down.

  Furian and Doven struggle above our heads. It takes them much longer to close the top slab than it did to open it. It is hard for them to get a good hold from underneath, and they get into each other’s way in the confines of the shaft.

  Finally we see the round hole into the sunlight vanish as the slab is pulled over. We are in darkness.

  My skin thrills into ripples. We are in the Rift of the Timeworn. At last.

  Koban is the first to hear the Scoriats. He can’t help but stiffen. The sinews of his arms and neck stand out. He stares to the north.

  Jethran doesn’t trust the other man. He raises his blaster. He aims it quite deliberately at Koban. “Be quiet!”

  Koban lifts his hands in the universal gesture of compliance. He looks completely calm, but his eyes are alert. They are already studying the surrounding terrain, calculating the advantages, identifying the weak and strong points both for attack and for defense. “They are coming. They are only about ten minutes out.”

  Jethran retreats behind a nearby column of stone. There is very little one man can do against a cohort of Scoriats. He is thinking furiously, but his mind feels slow, obtuse. He gives his head a shake.

  It makes little difference if they are caught. Neither he nor Koban can tell the Scoriats where the entrance to the Rift of the Timeworn is. So he must either surrender and be captured – possibly be executed immediately – or fight to the end. He sighs. He is not ready to die. He loves his wife and his daughter too much.

  Koban shifts his weight. Jethran almost shoots the other man there and then. He resists the temptation after a brief internal struggle. He must wait. He must not be hasty. There is too much at stake.

  “They know we are here.” Koban’s voice is a whisper.

  “How?”

  “They can smell us.”

  Jethran stares.

  The Scoriat shrugs. “It is true. We have enhanced sight. Enhanced hearing. An enhanced sense of smell. We can track you even four hours after you have left.”

  Jethran thinks. “Then you can smell them?”

  “Of course.”

  “How many of them are there?”

  “I can’t tell exactly.” Koban sniffs tentatively at the air. “Less than forty. I don’t think the full First Cohort has come. And I do not detect First Legate Belisar, either. He may have been recalled. Tetrarch Elebor may have decided he is too important to lose. Senior officers are rarely required to risk their lives. It is considered wasteful of years of training. In that case they will have sent only three decumas, each led by a vexil. Thirty men.”

  Jethran rests back on his haunches. “I cannot kill thirty!”

  “No.” Koban pauses. “I ... I have a suggestion.”

  “I wouldn’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

  “I realize that. But if ... if you were to become my prisoner ... if I were to have captured you ... then the decision whether or not to execute you would be mine instead of theirs. I would be able to protect you, at least for a short time. We might then be in a better position to help the others.”

  Jethran laughs. “You want me to give you the blaster?”

  “I do.”

  “So you can shoot me with it? Do I really look that stupid?”

  Koban indicates the carricks. “We should dispose of the carricks. They should not know the exact size of the party, even if they can estimate it through scent. And I might shoot you, it is true. If so, you have lost nothing except the chance to kill one or two Scoriats.” He is silent for a few moments, realizing perhaps that he is asking too much. “The decision is yours.”

  “You will pretend to have been captured earlier by us?”

  “Of course. I will have escaped. Eventually I will be interrogated about what has happened, but not by the men here, I think. That would fall to Legate Belisar or even to Tetrarch Elebor himself. If I say I was following orders the vexils of the other decumas would never challenge me. As acting vexil, I hold the same rank. They cannot give me orders; I would be safe for the time being. And so, in all likelihood, would you.”

  Jethran draws in a deep breath. He would definitely like to see his family again. And he would still like to play a part in this great adventure. But he knows he will never trust the Scoriat.

  Koban is calm, watching. He seems to understand Jethran’s inward struggle.

  “I don’t think you have fully understood what I am saying. Those Scoriats you hear will be able to follow your friends. They will find the entry to the Rift of the Timeworn. They will follow our group to Kelfor. I’
m afraid you must decide soon. They are getting closer.”

  Jethran’s mind goes to his wife and his daughter and his heart seems to contract. He looks blindly at the nearby rock formations, taking the time to consider his options. The decision taken, he throws the blaster over to Koban. Koban catches it deftly in midair.

  There is a second or two when Jethran thinks the Scoriat will shoot him anyway, but Koban is simply checking the sights. He gestures with the barrel. “Leave all but two of the carricks here. Put the supplies into those two and put both on your back. If you really were my prisoner I would make you carry everything.”

  Jethran does as he asks, finally hoisting the lighter pack onto his back.

  Koban nods. He indicates to the south. “We will walk along that way. Hopefully an oblique intercept course will take them away from the rest of the carricks so that they never find them. They will destroy them if they find them. I don’t think it will occur to my fellow soldiers to scout out the surrounding area for artifacts. They will be too busy tracking your Inmuri into the rift. They will not stop now.”

  “And you think they will take us with them?”

  “Leave it to me.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Koban is still for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I can answer that question. The closest I can come is to tell you that ... sometimes ... I still remember my mother.”

  Jethran stares. It is the last thing he expected the lean, hard soldier in front of him to say. For the first time in his life he sees a Scoriat as something other than just the enemy.

  10.

  We are standing in a tunnel which is pitch black. I cannot even see the others. I grope around with my hands. I am relieved when I touch the warmth of another person.

  “I had no idea you felt like that about me, Remeny.”

  I snatch my hands back. It would have to be Vannis!

  There is a snicker in the dark. He pushes past me and moves away. “Do not be concerned. There is light further down the tunnel.” Zivan is beside me now. I relax. She will know what to do. I don’t. I am lost without the light, without my eyes.

  “Just follow me,” she whispers. “You can hold onto the back of my tunic if you wish.”

  “What about Kalyka?”

  “Furian is holding her. She is safe.”

  We waddle along the tunnel. At least, I waddle. I think Zivan moves much as she usually does. Can she see in the dark? I strain my eyes. Can I?

  The answer is no. I can see nothing. My heart thumps, even though I tell it not to. It ignores my instructions.

  We walk on in this way for almost twenty minutes before I notice that there is some slight glimmer of light in front of us, enough to make a huge difference after complete blackness. I give a sigh of relief.

  The light is some sort of phosphorescence. It is coming from the walls. I am relieved. It isn’t really enough to see, but it does give you a glow that marks the limits of the tunnel. It helps us to go much faster. I breathe more easily.

  Suddenly there is a shriek up ahead. Ammeline is standing in the middle of the tunnel shouting her head off.

  “What? Ammeline, you nearly gave me heart failure!” Linnith’s voice quavers slightly.

  “They are insects!” I am close to her now. She is shaking. “I put my hand on one, and it moved! Ugh!”

  Furian’s voice is angry. “Then don’t touch them!”

  “They are crawlers! I don’t want to be here. I want to go back. I won’t go down any further! I won’t!”

  “You can’t go back, Ammeline. What would you do? You couldn’t get back up the stack on your own, and you have no food or water. Don’t be so silly.”

  She hisses. “I am not being silly. We are all going to die down here. You don’t even know if this is the way into Kelfor. I am going back, I tell you!”

  Karith, who must have been leading the way, has returned down the tunnel. “Now what is the matter?”

  Furian explains.

  I can’t see in the dark, but a sharp slapping sound gives a pretty clear picture. “Stop it!” Karith’s tone is as sharp as the slap sounded. “There is no going back!”

  Ammeline starts to cry.

  Doven must have gone close to her, for she pushes him back harshly and he crashes into me, sending me to the ground.

  “—And I don’t need any help from you, unworn!”

  Doven is helping me up, apologizing for my fall. He doesn’t reply, but his hurt silence is eloquent.

  “I want Koban! Why did you leave him behind? You had no right!”

  Karith is shaking her now. “Stop all this fuss, Ammeline! We are in this together, and we have to go on. However much you don’t like these glowworms or whatever they are, they are very useful to us. So why don’t you stop setting up such a screech and start walking? The faster you walk, the sooner you are out of here.”

  Ammeline takes no notice. She is still crying.

  “Stop being a baby!”

  “I am not!”

  “Your precious Scoriat would leave you if he saw you behave like this!”

  “He wouldn’t!” But she glances around as if expecting somebody.

  “Would so! Any man would. Stands to reason!”

  She sniffs. “I hate you!”

  “No you don’t. Now, are you coming or not? If not, we will leave you here on your own with the creepy crawlies.”

  Ammeline gives a small whimper. “I’m coming,”

  I’m pretty sure Vannis winks at us all. “Thought so.” He strides jauntily off.

  Furian is the first to recover. “We need to keep going. We will have to rest soon and it would be better if we find some stronger light for that.”

  We trail after Ammeline and Furian. I look warily at the walls of the tunnel with their massed pinpricks of light. Insects? I can’t say I am very keen on that either. There must be millions of them. Billions. Only Zivan is unworried by them. I see her teeth flash blue in the eerie light. “Never mind, Furian. These things are probably edible. We won’t starve.”

  I gag.

  Insect light is not a particularly agreeable experience. You stub your toes on outcropping rock in the tunnel. You stumble impotently over larger boulders. You scratch flesh until it bleeds and then you are scared the insects will be attracted by the blood.

  At length we come to a section without insects and are back to stumbling again in total darkness. I fall over, scraping my arm right down a particularly sharp rock. It brings tears to my eyes. I’m not sure which is worse: this or the insects.

  Zivan helps me up. At least, I assume it is Zivan. I am dusted down and pushed gently back on my way. “Walk more carefully, Remeny. Pick your feet up higher. As if you were climbing in the dome.” It is her.

  I wonder how she knows about climbing in the dome. Was that her lot, too, before she was taken to the Xenokarth?

  I ask her, but she doesn’t reply. I think I might have probed too much.

  “No.” Her voice is stiff. “I was sent to the mine.”

  I don’t ask any more. Her voice warns me not to. I wonder what she was like when she was a girl. Was she trusting, like Kalyka?

  It makes me feel sad. I trip over another rock, but she catches hold of me in time. I resolve to stop thinking about the past. None of us will ever have to climb a dome again. That, at least, is good.

  There are another couple of hours of hard descent before we find a new area of glowworms and are able to see a little again. Furian decides that we will pause to rest. The temperature has dropped and I have begun to shiver. We drink some of the water we are carrying, and have a few sand tubers each. We huddle together, trying to preserve our remaining body heat. Linnith comes close to me where I am sitting with Kalyka’s sleeping head in my lap.

  “It has to get colder and then hotter again before we arrive. Kelfor is a long way beneath us, my mother says.”

  I give her hand a squeeze. “Are you all right?”

  We are back in an area of glo
wworms. I can see her face. She looks rueful. “I guess.”

  “You don’t mind too much? You know, about ...” I tilt my head in Doven’s direction. He, of course, has chosen a spot next to Ammeline. They are both sleeping soundly.

  Linnith looks away. “N-n-no, not really. I mean, if he doesn’t want me it would be pretty pointless for me to go on wanting him, wouldn’t it?”

  “You wouldn’t want him anyway, would you? Not if he is madly in love with somebody else?”

  “I suppose not.” She doesn’t sound very convinced. How stupid is all this love stuff? Why on Hethor would you still want a man who doesn’t want you? It doesn’t make any sense.

  Linnith manages a smile. Her eyes slide to Vannis, on the other side of Furian. I shudder. “Not him either!”

  “He is pretty vain.”

  I snort. “I’d like to see that one scrubbing down the slats of a dome!”

  “He is not as bad as all that. He just hates the rest of us.”

  “He thinks he is better than we are!”

  She lowers her head again. “Maybe he is,” she says quietly.

  I give her a small push. “Come on, Linnith! You and your mother are speakers of the land! If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here at all!”

  She purses her lips. “Doven doesn’t think much of me.”

  “He is a fool. He has been blinded by Ammeline!”

  A shadow crosses nice Linnith’s face. “Yes, Remeny, but why?”

  It is my turn to frown. “Why what?”

  “What is it about her that makes her so attractive, and why haven’t I got it?”

  I remember the way Doven’s eyes are drawn to Ammeline’s chest. I look at Linnith’s. It doesn’t stick out at the front like Ammeline’s does.

  She catches on. “You think it is all about the size of the bust?” She sounds shocked, hurt. “Men can’t be that superficial! Can they?”

  I shrug. I don’t think I am the right one to ask. I surreptitiously try to see if mine has grown at all in the last few days. It hasn’t. Linnith is attempting to bat her eyelashes just like Ammeline does. I start to giggle. We are both very silly. I sigh. Whatever it is that Ammeline has got, I don’t think either Linnith or I are ever going to have it. “I should just forget all about Doven. He isn’t worth it.”