They were currently moving along in a loose formation toward the lush green foothills and currently unseen temple. The other Ayamin and Irasso were not within earshot if he kept his voice quiet. "You know, in my first combat, I should have died," Shon said. "I hesitated when the enemy attacked. Don't really know why. I had been doing fine, but all the chaos…it got to me. It's natural, even if it is dangerous. But when those shifters invaded the palace, you never wavered."
"I did on the inside." Matthu kept his voice equally quiet. "We're going to be outnumbered again."
"Maybe. But you never showed that hesitation. You're a natural fighter."
Matthu still looked straight ahead, but his shoulders relaxed slightly and he eased into the bruin saddle more.
They carried on, the sun climbing higher in the sky. No clouds obscured the brilliant blue. Smoke expanded in the distance. Perhaps a burning town or village. Not that there was anything they could do. Eagles, sparrows, and song birds darted above, singing and calling. Every Ayamin winced or looked up at each bird call or rustling of the brush. Even a rabbit bounding across the path made Bosheath reach for his javelin.
"Calm yourselves, friends." Irasso lifted his hands. "There are no Vawtrians here today. Remember, the Paras are celebrating the restoration of the Tue-Rah and participating in the Ceremony of the Viskaro. It's unlikely they will even be in the temple when we arrive. So hopefully we will have time to prepare. They will be celebrating in Ecekom."
Shon's throat tightened. He did not know what that involved. He'd gathered from hearing Naatos talk that viskaro was a term of endearment for a spouse. It always made his skin crawl when Naatos called Amelia viskaro. It was like a dagger blade, cutting his mark into her. Shon glanced up at the sky again.
"Doesn't hurt to be cautious." Cobez angled his head back, peering up into the sky as a red-winged hawk soared on the thermals.
One of the other Machat shook her head, the ties and beads on her hood rattling. She patted the bag just beneath her round bow. "Being overly cautious can be just as dangerous. Besides, if a Vawtrian should attack, we can deal with him straight away. So stay aware but remain focused on our task."
Shon went over the inventory in his mind again. There had been two dozen of the jars containing the lightning and the drug. Each of them had one or two. He would have felt better if there had been more to spread between them and if the containers had been a more convenient size and shape. They were like the large jars his mother had used to preserve peaches and apples. Hurling one of these with any kind of accuracy over a distance was unlikely to be successful. The smaller packets of the drug could be put on the weapon blade, but it was less effective. If it came to that, he would use his tomarangs. The angle of the blades would allow for a broader application of the drug than his arrows, swifter to prepare than his sword.
The bruins started shaking their heads. The wind rustled lightly, but it carried no other sounds. His bruin snorted and lifted its snout. Its ears twitched back and forth. Shon looked over his shoulder. The underbrush and bushes to his left began swaying as if something large moved through them. But the movement was oddly serpentine, moving first one direction, then cutting to the next. Birds flew up, cackling and shrieking. The movement stopped.
One of the bruins garumphed. Hackles rising, the others growled. The rustling stopped.
The source of the sound was about a hundred feet away. Shon signaled his troop to prepare their weapons and keep moving.
The bruins continued to grunt and snarl. His bruin raised its hackles, the fur bristling along its neck. Shon looked back at the patch where the movement had stopped. Still nothing.
"What was that?" Matthu asked.
Shon put his finger to his lips. Something was wrong.
A large skelro bolted up from the underbrush, leaping over the rocks, its tail in the air and its eyes wide with terror. But still there was no more movement.
"Should we investigate, sir?" Bosheath adjusted his grip on his javelin, his gaze focused on the point with the last movement.
Shon eyeballed the surrounding terrain. There was no question about the danger of what lay in the grass. But at this point, this creature had the advantage. The terrain angled up there. The underbrush was thick enough that the creature would be well camouflaged.
They cut along the edge of the valley. It sheared off farther to the right, dropping to a distance of more than fifty feet to the bottom.
"Commander…" Cobez kept his arrow nocked.
They needed to get past the cliff and the thick bushes. Shon motioned for them to keep moving. He tapped his finger to his temple, signaling them to keep watching.
The bruins continued forward. They growled low in their throats.
The underbrush began moving again, slower this time. The creature was sliding forward. The only sound was the cracking of the bushes. Unlike footsteps, it was continuous, weaving from one direction to another. Once again, it halted when they stopped. It created a line of movement now more than thirty feet long.
To run would be foolish. Not until they knew the size of the creature. Suddenly a thought struck Shon. He motioned to the Ayamin and Machat to stop. "Hold up. Keep your weapons ready." He nudged his bruin forward, separating it from the group and angling farther up the hill.
The underbrush rustled again. It moved toward him.
"Shon…" Matthu said.
"Be ready."
All at once, the underbrush broke apart. A massive serpent lunged out. Shon's mouth fell open in horror. It was the sveti. But no longer was it the small creature he had seen the night before. It had grown to a full thirty feet, and its body was thicker than two horses put together. The horns on its snout were sharp, glistening in the sunlight.
The sveti bowled forward. Shon's bruin reared up and struck the serpent in the head. Its claws dug into its eyes. The sveti pulled away, shaking its head. The motion shook Shon loose in the saddle. He fell back, his leg catching in the stirrup. Seizing the bruin's reins, he hauled himself back into place as the bruin roared.
The other bruins growled and bellowed, racing forward. The Ayamin and Machat rained arrows and darts upon the sveti, but they glanced off the sveti's scales like grain on a marble floor.
As his bruin raced by the sveti, Matthu stabbed it with his javelin, trying to pin its tail to the ground. Shon slashed his sword across its snout.
The sveti shook its head, a low snarl hissing from its lipless mouth. It bowled over two of the bruins, knocking Cobez and Matthu from their saddles. Lightning crackled, and the scent of burning fur and grass flared up. Whirling about again, it took down Bosheath and three of the Machat who charged.
Matthu grabbed his javelin, wincing as he rolled over. He jumped and stabbed the sveti's tail with his javelin. This time the blade pierced the thick scales. Blood spurted up. The sveti thrashed around, tearing its tail free. It arched up over Matthu, its jaws opening.
Shon grabbed one of his tomarangs and flung it. It struck the sveti in the face. Shon quickly took his dagger and cut his forearm, letting the blood drip onto the ground. "Hey! Over here! Everyone else, stop moving. I'm the one it's here for."
Matthu looked at Shon, his face pale and his eyes wide. "Shon, what are you doing?"
The Machat woman with the round grey bow lay on the ground motionless. One of her comrades tried to reach her. The sveti faced away from him, staring down Shon. A deadly calm had come over it; it knew that it had found its target.
"No," Shon said. He held up his hand. "I know what I'm doing. Nobody move." Shon wanted to go to his brother, but so long as the sveti's attention was focused on him, that was the best he could do.
Shon remembered the cliff. It was the one thing he could use.
He started to step back. Adrenaline surged within him. He focused on the sveti, his eyes narrowing. The sveti slid forward, its ruby tongue flicking in and out.
Shon braced himself in front of the cliff, muscles tensed. He hoped he was fast enough.
The fire in the sveti's eyes was stronger than ever before. In it, Shon saw the same hatred Naatos held for him. Then, like an uncoiling spring, the sveti struck. Shon lunged to the side, dropping to the ground and rolling.
The sveti shot past him. It careened over the side.
Shon jumped to his feet and looked down. The sveti lay at the bottom of the valley, its tail twitching. Its head was split open, but already it began to mend.
"Can we use one of the anti-Vawtrian jars on it?" Bosheath asked, drawing near.
"Wouldn't work, and we don't have any to spare," Irasso said. "That creature can be killed only one of two ways, and neither of those are options for us. We should keep moving."
"It's going to keep coming after me." Shon set his jaw. He knew what he had to do. "Cobez, you have to lead the troop. Get Amelia out. If I continue on, I'll just be drawing this sveti after us."
"Then I'm going with you," Matthu said.
"Shon," Irasso said sternly, "that thing is going to keep following you, and it's going to keep growing. You'll never escape it. Go to the temple. We've got to get you through to the Tue-Rah. Now go."
Shon took in the damage. No one had been killed, but someone could have died. Even the Machat were all right. For now. "All right," he said. "But if it starts to overtake us, I'm going to lead it off. No one gets in its way, all right?"
He gripped Matthu's shoulder. They had minutes before the sveti was healed, but he had to say this. "Especially not you. You're not dying because I'm in love with a married woman, all right? Cobez, if I do not make it to the temple, you assume command. But whatever you do, get Amelia out of there."
50
Sveti
The shouts and cheers from the assembled Vawtrians and their families deafened Amelia. Naatos carried her off the dais and across the courtyard while QueQoa came forward and instructed the crowd.
Amelia could barely breathe. She put her hand to his chest when they reached the end of the courtyard. "I can walk."
Naatos carried her around the corner. "Well, not for long. Vawtrians typically cleave the bride's feet after the ceremony."
"What!" Amelia stiffened.
"How else do you think we keep our spouses?"
Amelia slapped him. "Cut any part of me, and—"
"I was joking, Amelia." Naatos gave her an amused look. "But I'm glad our marriage hasn't dulled your perception."
"It isn't funny if it's something you might actually do."
"I would never do such a thing," Naatos said. He continued walking into the narrow hall, then set her down, sliding his hand along the small of her back. "Cleaving results in far too much blood loss. Severing the tendons would accomplish the same purpose without so much risk."
Amelia arched her brow. "You know, it isn't funnier with the second variation."
"But at least you know I am joking now." Naatos pushed her hair back from her shoulders. He cupped his hand beneath her chin.
"Most people smile or laugh when they tell a joke. That half smirk does not say 'I'm joking.' It says, 'I think doing this is going to be fun.'"
"You think I enjoy hurting people."
"Yes."
"Just because I am good at something does not mean I enjoy it."
"Except you do!" Amelia calmed herself. This really wasn't the biggest issue at hand. It would be easier if he didn't look so smug. "Anyway, enough of that. What happens next? There's a feast, and then we're dancing?"
"Perhaps." Naatos traced a line down her neck to her shoulder. "We have a few minutes."
Amelia glanced up at him, trying to determine what he was thinking without reading his mind. He was debating something.
She adjusted the top of her gown and stepped back. "So we've gotten blood on my wedding dress, you've made jokes about cutting my feet, and I've hit you. We are off to a beautiful start. Leaving aside the fact you're taking over my world in less than a day and I'm supposed to kill you, this marriage is shaping up to be one of the best of the century."
Naatos came along beside her. "Technically, our first interaction as a married couple took place when you pretended to be a Machat and shot me on Valne's Peak. This is an improvement." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "And as for your gown, it's besred blood. Your gown is woven from besred wool and treated. The blood will disappear. You can relax." He kissed her again, enveloping her in his arms and pulling her close.
The door at the end of the hall opened, and QueQoa peered in. "They are ready for you. Unless you two would like more time alone."
Amelia pulled back, her cheeks reddening. QueQoa's grin did not make it any easier. Stop being embarrassed, she thought. The fact that Naatos was enjoying this made her blush all the more. And deep down she only knew it was going to get worse.
"We do not require any additional time," Naatos said. He kept his arm around her waist and escorted her in.
The feasting chamber reminded Amelia of the Greek Parthenon with the long columns taking the place of exterior walls. Fresh but humid air flowed in, yet it was not oppressive. Large fans made from silver embossed leaves waved back and forth, connected to some hidden mechanism. Outside this room were other partially enclosed chambers with additional tables and sideboards. All of the sideboards were filled with many kinds of delicious foods, roasted meats, spiced fruit, flaky pies, round loaves, and more. This room was where they had the most fruits and vegetables. These were arranged on the sideboard along with a number of cream-filled cakes and large carafes and pitchers of gold and red sparkling wines and infused water. Attendants dressed in finely tailored black and gold uniforms stood at attention. No serving dishes were placed on the main tables.
Everyone had already assembled. When Naatos and Amelia walked out, they erupted once more in cheers and applause. Naatos nodded and guided her to the head of the room where a significantly smaller table had been set with eight places. He took the head and had Amelia sit next to him. WroOth, AaQar, and QueQoa mingled with the guests, chatting with them.
A couple stepped forward. The man was tall, his dark hair in dreadlocks and his eyes violet. A deep scar cleft around his forehead. He gripped Naatos's hand, smiling broadly. "You did not waste any time with this, did you?" He turned then to Amelia and gripped her hand in his. His hands were large and calloused. Another scar cut deep across his palm.
Naatos chuckled. "Apparently not. Amelia, this is Khanaan, one of the members of my cadre. And this is his wife, Lynne. She is an Awdawm."
A slender woman with sleek dark skin stepped out from behind Khanaan. She gave Amelia a faint smile, but there was a note of hesitation on her face. "Amelia?" she repeated, as if it were familiar.
Amelia stared at the woman, hesitant. For a moment, the woman's intonation had sounded as if it possessed the faintest tones of a nearly lost accent. A Jamaican accent. But her clothing and everything else about her was Vawtrian. She wore a loose flowing silver gown with what looked like a besred tooth necklace. She even had a thick silver bracelet that mimicked the style of Khanaan's earring. "Indiana," Amelia said, hoping that the name would capture Lynne's attention.
Lynne stiffened, her breath catching. She gave a slight nod as if she understood.
Amelia hardly knew what to say. But Naatos was directing them to their seats. To Amelia's delight, Lynne was seated next to her, and Khanaan sat next to Naatos. As soon as Lynne took her place, Amelia leaned in and lowered her voice. "You're from Earth?"
Lynne nodded. She picked up her goblet, her brow creased in a frown.
"When? How long have you been here?"
Lynne's lips trembled. She did not look at Amelia. "A long time," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd see or hear anything from Earth again. I'm almost afraid to ask. Everyone is probably dead." The fork tapped her plate as her grip slipped.
"I'm sorry," Amelia said. "The Tue-Rah brought you here?"
Lynne nodded. She released a tight breath. "We'll speak of this later. In private. I have so many questions."
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"Yes," Amelia said. "As soon as possible."
The attendants began serving food. They provided fairly small portions, which was a relief to Amelia. Even though she was hungry, she wanted to press Lynne about who she was and what she was doing here. There were so many things she wanted to know, but Amelia's presence obviously disturbed the young woman in some way. Lynne did not even touch the pickled pears or the roasted boar placed on her plate. She pushed it around as if lost in thought. It was hard for Amelia to resist asking her more questions.
Khanaan and Naatos remained deep in conversation. "Has copulation proved difficult?" Khanaan asked. "Neyeb are fragile creatures compared to Vawtrians. More fragile than Awdawms."
Amelia dropped her fork, staring at him in shock. "What?"
"I have no basis for comparison," Naatos said. "But Amelia is hardly fragile. I am not concerned."
Lynne shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "This is common," she said. "They don't see anything strange about such conversations." She glanced between Naatos and Amelia. "Have you both…"
"No." Amelia's cheeks warmed.
"You'll get over being embarrassed about it fairly quickly." Lynne took a sip from her goblet. "I suppose I should warn you that while Awdawm virgins may be more shy, Vawtrian virgins aren't. At all."
"Are you making a comment about our first night?" Khanaan placed his arm around Lynne's shoulders and kissed her on the top of the head.
"Yes."
"What? Complaints or nostalgia?"
"Nostalgia." Lynne reached up to tweak his cheek, smiling. "But it was not what I expected. You did not come with warnings, viskare."
"Isn't half of romance the surprises?"
Lynne laughed. "And the other half is the warnings."
Khanaan joined her mirth, his head resting against hers. "This beautiful woman was not from any of our times. She arrived in our world like a migrant bird thrown off course and far from home. But she chose to make her nest with me."
"And you've passed five hundred years, yes?" Naatos asked.
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