A shame, I
ve always liked the name.
Me too.
Come back to bed. You
ll catch a cold.
Thrace walked toward her, looking at where the mirror once hung.
I will need to get a new mirror
before Wintertide.
***
Dawn brought breakfast and morning reports from Amilia and Modina
s tutor. Nimbus was bright-
eyed and cheery, bowing to both
a courtesy Amilia refused to extend to Arista. The Imperial Secretary looked haggard. The dark circles under her eyes grew deeper each day. Holding her jaw stiff, and her fists clenched, she glared at Arista eating breakfast in Thrace
s bed. Despite Amilia
s
obvious contempt, Arista could not help but like her. It was not hard to recognize the same fierce protectiveness in Amilia that Hilfred exhibited.
They
ve stopped the search for the Witch of Melengar,
Amilia reported, looking coldly at Arista.
They think she
s either headed to Melengar or Ratibor. Patrols are still out, but no one really expects to find her.
What about where Degan Gaunt might be held?
Arista asked.
Amilia glanced at Nimbus who stepped up.
Well, my research at the Hall of Records is
inconclusive. In ancient imperial times, Aquesta was a city called Rionillion, and a building of some significance stood on this site. Ironically, several parchments refer to it as a prison, but it was destroyed during the early part of the civil wars that followed the death of the last emperor. Later, in 2453, Glenmorgan the First built a fortress here as a defense against rebellions. That fortress is the very palace in which we now stand.
None of the histories mention anything about a dungeon
odd given the unrest. I
ve made a detailed
search of nearly every section of the palace, interviewed chambermaids, studied old maps and plans, but I haven
t uncovered a single mention of any kind.
What does Aquesta do with criminals?
Arista asked.
There are three jails in the city that deal with minor offenses, and the Warric prison in Whitehead for harsher cases that don
t result in execution. And then there is the infamous Manzant Prison and Salt Mine in Maranon for the most severe crimes.
Perhaps it
s not a dungeon or prison at all,
Arista said.
Maybe it
s merely a secret room.
I suppose I could make some inquiries along those lines.
What is it, Amilia?
Thrace asked catching a thoughtful look on her secretary
s face.
What? Oh, nothing
Amilia
s expression switched to annoyance.
This is very dangerous. Asking all
these questions and nosing about. It
s risky enough ordering extra food with each meal. Someone will notice. Saldur is not a fool.
But, what were you thinking just now, Amilia?
Thrace repeated.
Nothing.
Amilia?
The secretary frowned.
I just
well, a few weeks ago you talked about a dark hole
You think I was there
in this dungeon?
Don
t, Modina. Don
t think about it,
Amilia begged.
You
re too fragile.
I have to try. If I can remember
You don
thave to do anything. This woman
she comes here
she doesn
t care about you
or what might
happen. All she cares about is herself. You
ve done more than enough. If you won
t turn her in, at
least let me get her out of here and away from you. Nimbus and I
No,
Thrace said softly.
She needs us
and I need her.
***
Dirt,
Thrace said and shivered.
Arista looked over. She was in the midst of trying to determine how to finish her latest letter to Hilfred when she heard the word. The empress had knelt before the open window since Amilia and Nimbus left, but this was the first she had spoken.
Damp, cold
terrible cold, and voices, I remember them
cries and weeping, men and women, screams
and prayers. Everything was dark.
Thrace wrapped her arms around herself and began to rock.
Splashing, I remember splashing, a hollow sound, creaking, a whirl, and the splash. Sometimes there were distant, echoing voices coming from above, falling out of a tunnel. The walls were stone, the door wood. A bowl
yes, every day a bowl
soup that smelled bad. There was so little to eat.
Thrace rocked harder, her voice trembling, her breath hitching.
I could hear the blows and cries, men and women, day and night, screaming for mercy. Then I heard a new voice added to the wailing, and realized it was my own. I killed my family. I killed my mother, my brother, and little Hickory. I destroyed my whole village. I killed my father. I was being punished.
Thrace began to cry.
Arista moved to her, but the girl jumped at her touch and cowered away. Crawling against the wall and sobbing, she rubbed the stone with her hands, wetting it with her tears.
Fragile?Arista thought. Thrace took a blow that would kill most people. No matter what Amilia believed, Thrace was not fragile. Yet even granite will crack if you hit it with a big enough hammer.
Are you all right?
Arista asked.
No, I keep searching but I can
t find it. I can
t understand the sounds. It is so familiar and yet
she
trailed off and shook her head.
I
m sorry, I wanted to help. I wanted
It
s okay, Thrace. It
s okay.
The empress frowned.
You have to stop calling me that.
She looked up at her.
Thrace is dead.
Chapter 16
The Village
It was perpetually twilight. The jungle
s canopy blocked what little sunlight managed to penetrate the rain clouds. A hazy mist shrouded their surroundings, and intensified the deeper they pressed into the jungle. Exotic plants with stalks the size of men
s legs towered overhead. Huge leaves
adorned with intricate patterns and vibrant flowers of purple, yellow, and red surrounded the party.
It left Hadrian feeling small, shrunken to the size of an insect, crawling across the floor of a giant
s
forest.
Rain constantly plagued them. The sound of water danced on a million leaves, sounding like thunder and when actual thunder cracked
it was the voice of a god. Everything was wet. Clothes stuck to their skin and hung like weights. Boots squished audibly with every step. Their hands wrinkled like old men
s.
Royce rode on the back of a Gunguan, what the Vintu called the pack ponies. He was awake but weak. A day had passed since the attack, because Wesley had insisted on burying Staul. Their new captain proclaimed he would not allow the beasts to have a taste of any of his crew and insisted on a deep grave. No one complained at the strenuous work of cutting through the thick mat of roots.
Hadrian doubted Wesley really cared about the fate of Staul
s carcass, but the work granted Royce
time to rest, kept the crew busy, and affirmed Wesley
s commitment to them. Hadrian thought once
again about the similarities between the ex-midshipman and his famous brother.
Royce traveled wrapped in his cloak, the weight of the rain collapsing the hood around his head. It was not a good sign, at least not for Thranic and Defoe. Until now, Royce had played the part of the good little sailor, but with the reemergence of the hood, and the loss of his white kerchief, Hadrian knew that role had ended. They had spoken little since the attack. Not surprisingly, Royce was in no mood for idle discussion. By now Hadrian guessed his friend had imagined killing Thranic at least a dozen times with a few Defoes thrown in here and there for variety. Hadrian had seen Royce wounded before and was familiar with the cocooning
only what would emerge from that cloak and
hood would not be a butterfly.
Thranic, Defoe, and Levy traveled at the end of the train and Hadrian often caught them whispering. They wisely kept their distance, avoiding attention. Wesley led the party, along with Dilladrum who made a point of not taking sides or venturing anything remotely resbling an opinion.
Dilladrum remained jolly as always and focused his attention on the Vintu.
Hadrian was most surprised with Derning. When Royce was most vulnerable, his shipboard nemesis had come to his aid rather than taking advantage. Hadrian would have bet money that, on the subject of Royce
s guilt, Derning would have sided with Thranic. Wyatt never had the chance to find out his reason for volunteering, but now more than ever Hadrian was convinced Derning was not part of Thranic
s band. Antun Bulard was part of Thranic
s troop
of that there was no doubt
but
lacked the ruthlessness of the others. He was merely a resource and, having shown an interest, Hadrian became Bulard
s new best friend.
Look! Look there.
Bulard pointed to a brilliant flower blooming overhead. The old man took to walking beside Hadrian, sharing his sense of discovery along the way.
Gorgeous, simply gorgeous,
have you ever seen the like? I dare say I haven
t. Still, that isn
t saying much, now is it?
Bulard reminded Hadrian of a long-haired cat; his usually billowing robe and fluffy, white hair deflated in the rain leaving a remarkably thin body. He held up a withered hand to protect his eyes as he searched the trees.
Another one of those wonderful long beaked birds,
the historian said.
I love the way they hover.
Hadrian smiled at him.
It
s not that you don
t seem to mind the rain that amazes me, it
s that you don
t
seem to notice it at all.
Bulard frowned.
My parchments are a disaster. They stick together, the ink runs, I haven
t been able
to write anything down, and as I mentioned at our first meeting, my head is no place to store memories of such wonderful things. It makes me feel I have wasted my life locked in dusty libraries and scriptoriums. Don
t do what I did, Hadrian. You
re still a young man. Take my advice, live your
life to the fullest. Breathe the air, taste the wine, kiss the girls, the never forget that the tales of another are never as wondrous as adventures of your own. I
ll admit I was, well, concerned about
this trip. No, I will say it truthfully
I was scared. What does a man my age have to be afraid of, you wonder? Everything. Life becomes more precious when you have less to spare. I
m not ready to die.
Why, look at all that I have never seen.
You have seen horses before, and known women right?
Hadrian asked, with a wry grin.
Bulard looked at him curiously,
I
m a historian, not a monk.
Hadrian nearly tripped.
I realize I don
t look it now, but I was quite handsome once. I was married three times in fact.
Outlived all of them, poor darlings. I still miss them, you know
each one. My silly, little mind hasn
t
misplaced their faces, and I can
t imagine it ever will. Have you ever been in love, Hadrian?
I
m not sure. How do you tell?
Love? Why, it
s like coming home.
Hadrian considered the comment.
What are you thinking?
Bulard asked.
Hadrian shook his head.
Nothing.
Yes, you were. What? You can tell me. I am an excellent repository for secrets. I will likely forget, but if I don
t, well, I
m an old man in a remote jungle. I
m sure to die before I can repeat anything.
Hadrian smiled then shrugged.
I was just thinking about the rain.
***
The trail widened, revealing a great, cascading waterfall and a dozen grass-thatched buildings clustered at the center of a small clearing. The domed-roof huts rested on high wooden stilts accessed by short stairs or ladders depending on the size and apparent prestige of the structure. A central fire pit occupied the very center of the clearing surrounded by a ring of colorfully painted stones and wooden poles decorated in animal skins, skulls, and strings of bones, beads, and long vibrant feathers. The inhabitants were dark-haired, dark-eyed, umber-skinned men and women dressed in beautifully painted cloths and silks. They paused as Dilladrum advanced respectfully.
Elder men met him before the fire ring, where they exchanged bows.
Who are these people, do you suppose?
Bulard asked.
Tenkins,
Hadrian replied.
Bulard raised his eyebrows.
The village was familiar to Hadrian, though he had never been there. Hundreds of similar ones were scattered across the peninsula, mirror images of each other. The rubble of Eastern Calis was the last standing residue of the first empire. After civil wars tore apart the west, Calis still flew the old imperial banners and for centuries formed the bulwark against the advancing Ghazel horde.
Time, however, was on the Ghazel
s side. The last of the old world died when the ancient eastern capital of Urlineus fell to the goblin hordes sweeping through the jungles. They might have overrun all of Avryn, if not for Glenmorgan III.
Glenmorgan III had rallied the nobles and defeated the goblins at the Battle of Vilan Hills. The Ghazel fell back, but were never driven off the mainland. Betrayed shortly after his victory, Glenmorgan III never finished his work of reestablishing the kingdom
s borders. This task fell to
lesser men who squabbled over the spoils of war and were too distracted to stop the Ghazel from digging in. Urlineus, the last great city of the Old Empire, remained in the hands of the Ghazel, and Calis had never been the same.
Fractured and isolated, the eastern half of the country struggled against the growing pressure of the Ghazel nation in a maelstrom of chaos and confusion. Self-appointed warrior-kings fought against each other. Out of desperation, some enlisted the aid of the Ghazel to help vanquish a rival. Ties formed, lines blurred, and out of this tenuous alliance the Tenkins were born
humans who had
adopted the Ghazel
s ways, traditions, and beliefs. For this, Calians ostracized the Tenkin, forcing their kind deeper into the jungles where they lived on the borderlands between the anvil and the hammer.
Dilladrum returned.
This is the village of Oudorro. I
ve been here many times. Although Tenkin,
they are a friendly and generous people. I have asked them to let us rest here for the night.
Tomorrow morning we will push on toward the Palace of the Four Winds. Beyond this point, travel will be much harder and unpleasant, so we will need a good night
s rest. I must caution you,
however, please do nothing to offend or provoke these people. They are courteous but can be fierce if roused.
The physical appearance of the Tenkin always impressed Hadrian. Staul was a crude example of his kin, and these men were more what he remembered. Lean, bronzed muscles and strong facial features that looked hewn from blocks of stone were the hallmarks of the Tenkin warrior. Like the great cats of the jungle, their bodies were graceful in their strength and simplicity. The women were breathtaking. Long dark hair wreathed sharp cheekbones and almond eyes. Their satin-smooth skin enveloped willowy curves. Thecivilized world never saw Tenkin women. A closely guarded treasure, they never left their villages.
The inhabitants showed neither fear nor concern at the procession of the foreigners. Most observed their arrival with silent curiosity. The women showed more interest, pressing forward to peer and talking amongst themselves.
I thought Tenkins were grotesque,
Bulard said with the casual manner and volume of a man commenting on animals.
I had heard they were abominations of nature, but these people are beautiful.
A common misconception,
Hadrian explained.
People tell tales that Tenkin are the result of
interbreeding between Calians and Ghazel but if you ever saw a goblin, you
d understand why that
s
not possible.
I guess you can
t believe everything you read in books. But don
t spread that around or I
ll be out of a
job.
When they reached the village center, the Vintu went about their work and began unpacking. They moved with stoic familiarity. The party waited, listening to the hiss of rain on the fire and the mummer of the crowd gathering around them. With an expectant expression, Dilladrum struggled to see over their heads. He exchanged looks with Wesley but said nothing. Soon, a small elderly Tenkin entered the circle dressed in a leopard wrap. His skin was like wrinkled leather, and his hair gray steel. He walked with a slow dignity and an upturned chin. Dilladrum smiled, and the two spoke rapidly. Then the elderly Tenkin clapped his hands and shouted. The crowd fell back and he led the crew of theEmerald Storm into the largest of the buildings. It had four, tree-sized pillars holding up a latticework of intertwined branches overlaid with thatch. The interior lacked partitions and stood as an open hall lined with tanned skins and pillows made from animal hides.
Waiting inside were four Tenkins. Three men and a woman sat upon a raised mound covered in luxurious cushions. Their leopard-clad guide bowed deeply to the four and then left. Outside the rain increased and poured off the thatched roof.
Dilladrum stepped forward, bowed with his hands clasped before him, and spoke in Tenkin, which was a mix of the old imperial tongue and Ghazel. Hadrian had mastered a working knowledge of the language, but the isolation between villages caused each to develop a slightly different dialect.
Even villages separated by only a few miles might speak remarkably different variations. While Hadrian missed a number of Dilladrum
s words, he recognized that formal introductions were being made.
This is Burandu,
Dilladrum explained to theEmerald Storm
s crew in Apelanese.
He is Elder.
Dilladrum paused to think then added,
Similar to the lord of a manor, but not quite. Beside him is Joqdan, his warlord
chief knight if you will. Zulron is Oudorro
s oberdaza.
He gestured at a stunted,
misshapen Tenkin, the only one Hadrian had ever seen.
The closest thing to his office in Avryn
might be a chief priest as well as doctor, and next to him is Fan Irlanu. You have no equivalent position for her. She is a seer, a visionary.
Velcome peoples of Great Avryn,
Burandu spoke haltingly in Apelanese. Despite his age, betrayed only by a head of startling white hair, he looked as strong and handsome as any man in the village.
He sat adorned in a silk waistcloth and kilt, a massive broad necklace of gold, and wore a headdress formed from long, brightly colored feathers.
Vee are pleazed to
ave you in our
ome.
Thank you, sir, for granting us invitation,
Wesley replied.
Vee enjoy company of doze Dilladrum brings. Once brothers, in ancient days past
ez good to sit, to
listen, to find each other. Come, drink, and remember.
Zulron cast a fine powder over a brazier of coals. Flames burst forth, illuminating the lodge.
They all sat amid the pillows and hides. Royce found a place within the shadows against the rear wall. As always, Thranic and Defoe kept their distance from the rest of the party. They sat close to the four Tenkins where the sentinel watched Zulron with great interest. Bulard invited Hadrian to sit beside him.
This explains a great deal,
said the old man, pointing to the decorations in the hut.
These are people
lost in time. Do you see those decorated shields hanging from the rafter with the oil lamps? They used to do that in the ancient imperial throne room, and the leaders mirror the imperial body, represented by a king and his two councilors; always a wizard and a warrior. Although the seer is probably an addition of the Ghazel influences. She is lovely.
Hadrian had to agree, Fan Irlanu was stunning, even by Tenkin standards. Her thin silk gown embraced her body with the intimacy of a liquid.
Food and wine circulated as men carried in jugs and platters.
After eating,
Burandu said to Wesley,
I ask you, Dilladrum, and your second, to meet at my Duro. I discuss recent news on dee road ahead. I fear dee beasts are loose and you must be careful. You tell me of road just traveled.
Wesley nodded with a mouthful of food, then after swallowing added,
Of course, Your, ah
He
hesitated before simply adding,
sir.
Bulard looked at the sliced meat set before him with suspicion. Hadrian chuckled watching the old man push it around his plate.
It
s pork. Wild pigs thrive in these jungles and the Tenkin hunt them.
You
ll find it a little tougher and gamier than what you
re used to back home, but it
s good
you
ll like it.
How do you know so much about them?
the old man asked.
I lived in Calis for several years.
Doing what?
You know, I still ask myself that.
Hadrian stuffed a hunk of pork in his mouth and chewed, but Bulard
s expression showed he did not understand. At last, Hadrian gave in.
I was a mercenary. I
fought for the highest bidder.
You seem ashamed.
Bulard tried a bit of fruit and grimaced.
The mercenary profession has a long
and illustrious history. I should know.
My father never approved of me using my training for profit. In a way, you might say he thought it sacrilegious. I didn
t understand then, but I do now.
So, you were good?
A lot of men died.
Battles are sometimes necessary and men die in war
it happens. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
To be a warrior and alive is a reward Maribor bestows on the virtuous. You should be proud.
Except there was no war, just battles. No cause, just money. No virtue, just killing.
Bulard wrinkled his brows as if trying to decipher this. Hadrian got up and went to sit next to Royce, to escape Bulard
s questions.
Wanna try the wine?
Hadrian asked.
It
s not time for drinking yet,
the hood replied.
When the meal was over, three Tenkin boys held large palm branches over the heads of Burandu, Wesley, Dilladrum, and Wyatt as they ventured out into the rain. With the Elder gone, formalities relaxed. The Vintu headed out to resume camp preparations before all daylight was lost. Across the hall, Thranic and Levy spoke quietly with the oberdaza, Zulron, and all three left together. Poe, Derning, and Grady helped themselves to a jug of wine and reclined casually on the pillows.
How you feeling?
Hadrian asked Royce.
Not good enough.
You need to get the dressing on your wound changed?
It can wait.
Wait too long and it will fester.
Leave me alone.
You should at least eat. The pork is good. Best meal you
ll have for a while I think. It
ll help you
heal.
There was no reply. They sat listening to the wind and rain on the grassy roof and low conversations punctuated by the occasional laugh and clink of ceramic cups.
You are aware you
re being watched?
Royce asked.
The Tenkin on the dais, the one Dilladrum
called Joqdan, the warlord. He
s been staring at you since we entered. Do you know him?
Hadrian looked at the bald, muscular man wreathed in a dozen bone necklaces.
Never seen him
before. The woman next to him
she looks oddly familiar.
She looks like Gwen.
That
s it. You
re right, she does look just like her. Is Gwen from
I don
t know.
I just assumed she was from Wesbaden. Everyone in Avryn who
s from Calis is from there, but she
could be from a village like this, huh?
Hadrian chuckled.
What an odd pairing you two make.
Maybe Gwen
s from this very village. That could be her sister up there, or cousin. You might be meeting the bride
s family before the wedding, just like a proper suitor. You should brush your hair and take a bath. Make a good enough impression, and the two of you could settle down here. You
d
look good bare-chested in one of those kilts.
Hadrian expeced cutting retort. All he heard from his friend was a harsh series of breaths. Looking over he noticed the hood was drooping.
Hey, you
re really not doing too good, are you?
The hood shook.
Hadrian placed a hand on Royce
s back. His cloak was soaked and hot.
Damn it. I
ll convince
Wesley to extend our stay. In the meantime, let
s get you dry and in a bed.
***
With a flaming brand, the oberdaza led Thranic and Levy toward a cliff wall at the edge of the village where the great waterfall thundered. Somehow, even the plunging water felt foul as it splattered against rocks casting a damp mist. Thranic continually wiped the tainted wet from his face. Everything about the village was evil. Everywhere stood signs that these humans had turned their backs on Novron and embraced his enemy
the hideous feathers they wore, the symbolic
designs in the pillows, the tattoos on their bodies. They did not whisper, but rather shouted their allegiance to Uberlin. Thranic could not imagine a greater blasphemy, and yet the others were blind to their transgressions. If given the opportunity, Thranic would prefer to burn the whole village to ash and scatter the remains. He had tried to prepare himself for what to expect even before theEmerald Storm set sail, but now, surrounded by their poison, he longed to strike a blow for Novron. While he could not safely put a torch to this nest of vipers, there was another profanation he could rectify, one that these worshipers of Uberlin might even assist him with.
The powder the oberdaza used to ignite the braziers had caught his attention. The Tenkin witchdoctor was also an alchemist. Zulron was not like the rest of the heathens. He lacked their illusionary facade, their glimmer of false beauty. One leg was shorter than its partner, causing Zulron to shuffle with a noticeable limp. One shoulder rode up, hugging his chin, while the other slipped low, dangling a weak and withered arm. Singular in his wretched appearance, this honest display of his evil made him more trustworthy than the rest.
As they reached the waterfall, Zulron led them along a narrow path around the frothing pool to a crack in the cliff face. Within the fissure was a cave, its ceiling teamed with chattering bats and its floor was laden with guano.
This is my store room and workshop,
Zulron explained as he pushed deeper into the cavern.
It stays
cooler here and is well protected from wind and rain.
And what prying eyes can
t see
Thranic added guessing at the truth of the matter. Years of dealing with tainted souls left him with an understanding of evil
s true nature.
Zulron paused only briefly, to cast a glance over his low-slung shoulder at the sentinel.
You see
more clearly than the rest of your brethren.
And you speak Apelanese better than yours.
I
m not built for hunting. I rely on study and have learned much about your world.
This is disgusting.
Levy grimaced, carefully picking his path.
Yes,
the oberdaza agreed. He walked through the guano as if it were a field of spring grass.
But
these bats are my gatekeepers, and their soil, my moat.
Soon the cave grew wide and the floor cleared of filth. Here in the center of the cavern was a domed oven built of carefully piled stones. Surrounding it were dozens of huge clay pots, bundles of browned leaves, and a vast pile of poorly stacked wood. On shelves carved from the stone walls rested hundreds of smaller ceramic jars and a variety of stones, crystals, and bowls.
Zulron reached into one of the pots and threw a handful of dust into the mouth of the oven.
Thrusting his torch at the base, fire roared to life, which he fed with wood. When the oven was sated and he had finished lighting a number of oil lamps, he turned to Levy.
Let me see it.
The doctor set his pack on the floor and withdrew the bundle of bloody rags. He took th bandages and studied each, even holding them to his nose and sniffing.
And you say these belong to the
hooded one among you? It is his blood?
Yes.
How was he wounded?
I shot him with a crossbow.
Zulron showed no surprise.
Did you not wish him dead? Or are you a poor hunter?
He moved.
Zulron raised a dark brow.
He is quick?
Yes.
Sees in the dark?
Yes.
And you came by ship, yes? How did he fare on the water?
Poorly
very sick for the first four days I hear.
And his ears, are they pointed?
No. He has no elven features. This is why we need you to test the blood. You know the method?
The oberdaza nodded.
Thranic felt a twinge of regret that this creature was so unworthy to Novron. He sensed a kinship of minds.
How long?
Zulron rubbed the crusted bandages between his fingers.
Days with this. It is too old. If we had a
fresh sample
it could be quick.
Getting blood from him is nearly impossible,
Levy grumbled.
I will start the test with these, but I
ll also see what I can do to get fresh blood. He will need treatment soon.
Treatment?
The jungle does not abide the weak or the wounded for long. He will summon me or die.
How much gold will you want?
Thranic asked.
Zulron shook his head.
I have no need for gold.
What payment then?
My reward will not come from you. I will reap my own reward, and it is no concern of yours.
***
The Tenkin granted them the use of three sizable huts, and Wesley divided his crew accordingly.
The accommodations were surprisingly luxurious, subdivided by walls of wide woven ribbons that gave the impression of being inside a basket. Carpets of tight-threaded fibers inlaid with beautiful designs covered the floor. Peanut-shaped gourds hung from the rafters, burning oil that provided more than enough light.
Having convinced Wesley to linger in the village, Hadrian watched over Royce, who looked worse with each passing hour. Royce
s skin burned and sweat poured down his forehead even as he shivered beneath two layers of blankets.
You need to get better, pal,
Hadrian told him.
Think of Gwen. Better yet, think what she
ll do to me
if I come back without you.
There was no reaction. Royce continued to shiver, his eyes closed.
May I enter?
a soft voice asked. Hadrian could only see the outline in the doorway, and for an instant he thought it was Gwen.
It
as been said
e grows worse, but you
ave refused Zulron to see
im.
Your oberdaza has been keeping close company with the man who nearly killed my friend. I do not feel comfortable letting Zulron treat him.
Vill you allow me? I am not as skilled as Zulron, but know some dings.
Hadrian nodded and waved her in.
I am Fan Irlanu,
she said, dipping her head into the hut while outside two other women waited in the rain, holding covered baskets.
Hadrian Blackwater, and this is Royce.
She nodded, then knelt beside Royce and placed a hand to his forehead.
E
as fever.
She motioned for the oil lamp and Hadrian pulled it down, then helped her open Royce
s cloak and
pull back his tunic to reveal the stained bandage that she carefully removed. Irlanu grimaced as she peeled back the cloth and studied the wound.
She shook her head.
Et ez deeshirlum-kath ,
she said, pressing lightly on the skin around the wound causing Royce to flinch in his sleep.
See
ere?
she scraped a long nail along the edge of the bloody
wound and drew away a squirming parasite the size of a coarse hair that twisted and curled on her fingertip.
Dey are eating
im.
Fan Irlanu waved to the women outside who entered and deposited their eside her. She spoke briefly in Tenkin, ordering them to fetch other items that Hadrian was unfamiliar with, and the two dashed from the hut.
Can you help him?
The woman nodded as she took out a stone mortar and began crushing bits of what looked to be dirt, leaves, and nuts with a pestle.
Dey are common
ere vis open vounds. Left alone, deeshirlum-
kath vill devour
im.
E die soon vis out help, so I make a poison for deeshirlum-kath .
One of the women returned with a gourd and an earthen pot in which Fan Irlanu mixed the contents of her mortar with oil, beating it until she had a thick dark paste that she spread over Royce
s wound,
packing it into the puncture. They turned him over and did the same to the exit wound. Then she placed a single large foul-smelling leaf over each and together they wrapped him in fresh cloth.
Royce barely woke during the procedure. Groggy and confused, he soon passed out once more.
Fan Irlanu covered Royce back up with the blankets and nodded approvingly.
E vill get better now,
I dink. I brew drinks
more poison for deeshirlum-kath and a tea for strength. When
e wakes up,
make
im drink both, eh? Den
e feel better, much faster.
Hadrian thanked her, and as she left, he wondered what was it about Royce being near death that always summoned beautiful women.
***
When Royce woke the next morning, the fever was gone and he was strong enough to curse.
According to him, the draught Fan Irlanu provided tasted worse than fermented cow dung. The tea he actually liked. By the following day, he was sitting up and eating, by the third he was able to walk unassisted to the communalostrium for his meals.
No one complained about the delay as the rain continued. Seeing Royce in theostrium that morning, Grady winked and asked Hadrian if it might be possible for Royce to have a relapse.
E ez good?
Fan Irlanu asked, coming to them after the evening meal concluded. Her movement was entrancingly graceful, her dress glistened like oil in the lamplight. All eyes followed her.
No
but he
s feeling a lot better,
Hadrian replied. His mischievous grin left a puzzled expression on her face.
My language is perhaps not
I am very good, thank you,
Royce told her.
Apparently, I owe you my life.
She shook her head.
Repay me by getting strong
ah, but I do
ave a favor to ask of your friend, Hay-
dree-on. Joqdan, varlord of dee village asks dat
e speak vis you at deesarap .
Me?
Hadrian asked, looking across to where the man in the bone necklaces sat.
Is it all right if
Royce joins us? I
d like to keep an eye on him.
But, of course, if
e ez up to et.
Hadrian helped Royce to his feet and, as the rest watched with envious stares, the two followed Fan Irlanu out of theostrium . The sun had not yet set, but for what little light the jungle permitted it might just as well have. Oil lamps hung from branches, illuminating the path, decorating the village like a Summersrule festival. The rain still poured and they left the lodge under the protection of palm branches. Hadrian knewsarap translated to,
meeting place,
or
talking place.
In this case, it was
a giant Oudorro tree from which, he recently learned, the village took its name.
The tree was not as tall as it was round. Great, green leaves thrived on many of its branches despite the fact that the center of the trunk was completely hollow. The space within provided shelter from the rain and was large enough for the four of them. A small ornately decorated fire pit dominated the center of the floor and glowed with red coals. Around this, they took seats on luxurious pillows of silk and satin. The interior walls were painted with various ocher and umber dyes smeared into the wood, apparently by stained fingers. The images depicted men and animals
twisted shapes of
strange visions. There were also mysterious symbols and swirling designs. Illuminated by the glowing coals, the interior of the tree felt eerily talismanic creating a sensation that left Hadrian on edge.
Joqdan was already there. He had not waited for a boy with the palms, and his bare head and chest were slick with rain. They all exchanged bows respectfully.
Pleezed am I,
Joqdan greeted them.
Mine speech
ez, ah
not good as dee learned. I varrior
do not
speak to out-side-erz. You are
he paused for a moment thinking hard,
Special. Am honored.
Velcome you to Oudorro, Galenti. I
he paused thinking again and quickly became frustrated and turned to Fan Irlanu.
Dee Varlord Joqdan regrets dat language skills are not good enough to honor you, and
e asks dat I
speak words,
Fan Irlanu told them as she removed her wet wrap.
E says dat
e saw you fight in dee
arena at Drogbon.
E
as never forgotten et. To
ave such a legend
ere ez great honor. As you do not
wear dee laurel,
e dinks you do not vish be recognized.
E
as asked you
ere to pay proper respect in
private.
Hadrian glanced briefly at Royce who remained silent but attentive.
Thank you,
he told Joqdan.
And he is right
I would prefer not to be recognized.
Joqdan begs permission to ask a question of dee great Galenti.
E would like to know vie you left.
Hadrian paused only a moment then replied.
It was time to seek new battles.
The Warlord of Oudorro nodded as Fan Irlanu translated his words.
At that moment, something about Fan Irlanu caught Royce
s attention and he rapidly approached
her. She did not move although, given the ominous manner of his advance, Hadrian guessed that most anyone else would have at least taken a step back.
Where did you get that mark on your shoulder?
Royce asked indicating a small swirling tattoo.
That is the mark of a seer,
Zulron declared, startling all of them as he entered.
Unlike the other men of the village, Zulron wore a full robe. Made from a shimmering cloth it was open enough for them to see his misshapen body covered in strange tattoos. The one that spread across his face resembled the web of a spider.
Fan Irlanu is a vision-walker,
he explained, staring admiringly at her.
It is a talent and a gift
bestowed by Oberlin upon those endowed with the hot blood of the Ghazel. Few are born each age, and she is very powerful. She can see the depths of a heart, and the future of a nation.
He paused to
run his fingers gingerly down the side of her cheek.
She can see all things except her own destiny.
You don
t suffer from a language barrier, I see,
Hadrian said.
Zulron smiled.
I am the oberdaza. I know the movement of the stars in the Ba Ran and the books of your world. All mysteries are revealed to me.
Is it true that you are a visionary?
Royce asked Fan Irlanu.
She nodded.
Vis dee burning of dee tulan leaves I
Give him a demonstration,
Zulron interrupted, causing her to look sharply at him.
Read this one
s
future,
he said, gesturing toward Royce.
A puzzled look crossed her face, but she nodded.
Joqdan put a firm hand to Zulron
s shoulder and spun him around, but spoke too quickly for Hadrian to understand. The two argued briefly but all he caught was one word of Zulron
s
reply,
Important.
When he turned back, Zulron
s eyes fell on Hadrian, who he openly studied.
So, you are the
legendary Galenti.
He raised an eyebrow.
Looking at you I would say Joqdan is mistaken, but I
know Joqdan is never mistaken. Still, you don
t look like the Tiger of Mandalin. I
d thought you
would be much bigger.
He turned abruptly back to Fan Irlanu.
The leaves, burn them.
As Fan Irlanu moved to a stone box, Zulron asked them to take seats aroundthe glowing coals of the fire ring.
Hadrian took Royce aside.
Perhaps we should go. I can
t say I like Mister Witchdoctor
s attitude
much, seems like he
s up to something. The fact that he
s been spending time with Thranic doesn
t
help.
Royce glanced at Fan Irlanu.
No, I want to stay.
What
s all this about?
The tattoo
Gwen has the same one.
Reluctantly, Hadrian sat.
Fan Irlanu returned with several large dry leaves. Even withered and brittle they were a brilliant shade of red. She held them over the coals and muttered something while crushing the leaves and letting them fall onto the embers. Instantly, a thick white smoke billowed. It did not rise, but pooled and drifted. Fan Irlanu used her hands to contain the smoke, wafting it, scooping it, swirling it into a cloud before her. Then she bent and breathed in the ashen mist. Repeatedly, she swept the smoke and inhaled deeply.
The last of the leaves burned away and the smoke faded. Fan Irlanu
s eyes closed and she began
swaying on her knees, humming softly. After a few minutes, she reached out her hands.
Touch her,
Zulron instructed Royce.
Royce hesitated briefly. He looked at her the way Hadrian had seen him eye an elaborate lock. The greater the potential treasure behind the door, the more tension showed in Royce
s eyes, and at that
moment he looked as if Fan Irlanu might hold the secret to a fortune. He reached out his fingers. At his touch, she took hold of him.
There was a pause, then Fan Irlanu began to moan and finally shake her head, slowly at first but faster and faster the longer she held on. Her mouth opened and she groaned the way one might in a nightmare, struggling to speak but unable to form words. She jerked, her eyes shifting wildly under closed lids, her voice louder but saying nothing distinguishable.
Joqdan
s face was awash with concern, making Hadrian wonder if something was wrong. Fan Irlanu continued to struggle. Joqdan started to move, but a quick glare from Zulron held him back. At last, the woman screamed and collapsed on the pillows.
Leave her alone!
Zulron shouted in Tenkin.
Joqdan ignored him, rushing to her side. Fan Irlanu laid on the ground thrashing. She cried out, then became still.
Joqdan clutched her, whispering in her ear. He held her head and placed a hand near her mouth to feel for breath.
You
ve killed her!
he shouted at Zulron and, without another word, lifted the seer in his arms and ran out into the rain.
What
s going on? What
s happening?
Hadrian asked.
Your friend is not human,
the oberdaza declared. Zulron stepped up to face Royce.
Why are you
here?
We
re part of the crew of theEmerald Storm on our way to deliver a message to the Palace of the Four Winds,
Hadrian answered for him.
Zulron did not take his eyes off Royce.
For three
zousand years the ancient legends have told of the
Day of Reckoning, when the shadow from the north will descend to wash over our lands.
Derning, Grady, Poe, and Bulard entered.
What
s going on?
Derning asked.
We heard a woman
scream. And saw the big guy carrying her away.
There was an accident,
Hadrian explained.
Both Derning and Grady immediately looked at Royce.
We don
t know what happened to her,
Hadrian continued.
She was doing a kind of spiritual
demonstration
reading Royce
s fortune or something, and she collapsed.
She collapsed?
Derning said.
She was breathing tulan leaf smoke. Maybe it was a bad batch.
Zulron ignored their conversation and continued to glare at Royce,
The Ghazel legend, preserved
by oral memory from the time of the first Ghazel-Da-Ra, tells of death and destruction, revenge unleashed, the Old Ones coming again. I have seen the signs myself. I watch the stars and know. To the north, there have been rumblings. Estramn>s active, and Avempartha has been opened. Now here is an elf in my village where one has never walked before.
An elf?
Derning asked puzzled.
That is what killed Fan Irlanu,
Zulron told them.
Or at the very least has driven her insane.
What!
Hadrian exclaimed.
It
s not possible to use the sight on an elf. The lack of a soul offers up only infinity. For her it was like walking off a bottomless cliff. If she lives, she will never be the same.
You
re the village healer. Shouldn
t you be trying to help her?
He wants her dead,
Royce finally spoke. Then looking at Zulron added,
You knew.
What did he know?
Bulard asked, tense but fascinated. Grady and Derning also leaned forward.
You knew I was elven, didn
t you? But you told her
no
coerced her to do a reading,
Royce said.
Outside there were sounds of commotion, running feet and raised voices. Hadrian heard Wesley saying something over the heated shouts of Tenkins.
Why did you want her dead?
I did nothing. You are the one that killed her. And killing a member of the village, especially a seer, is an unpardonable crime. The punishment is death.
Zulron gave a smile before stepping outside.
The rest of them followed to find a gathering crowd.
There he is!
Thranic shouted the moment Royce stepped out of the tree. He pointed and said,
There
s yourelf ! I warned you about him.
He has slain our seer, Fan Irlanu!
Zulron announced, and repeated it in Tenkin.
Burandu, Wesley, and Wyatt pushed their way through the mob.
Is this true?
Wesley asked quickly, his voice nervous.
Which?
Royce asked.
Are you an elf, and did you just kill Fan Irlanu?
Yes, and I
m not sure.
The crowd grew and Hadrian could pick out words such asjustice ,revenge andkill among the many Tenkin shouts.
By Mar, man!
Wesley said fiercely but quietly to Royce.
What is it with you? I should let you hang
just for the amount of trouble you
ve caused.
He took a breath. The crowd pressed in and lightning
flashed overhead while thunder boomed.
What do you mean when you say you
re not sure?
Wesley
asked. He was speaking quickly, wiping the rain from his face.
The murderer must pay for his crime, Burandu,
Zulron declared in Tenkin.
His soullessness has
killed our beloved Fan Irlanu. The law demands justice!
Where is Joqdan?
Burandu asked.
Paying his last respects to his dead would-be wife. If hewas here, he would agree.
He lies! Zulron is to blame,
Hadrian spoke in Tenkin, which drew a surprised look from everyone.
What are they saying?
Wesley asked Hadrian.
The oberdaza is pushing for our deaths and Burandu is buying it.
Bring them all!
Burandu shouted.
The warriors of the village descended and Hadrian considered for a moment whether he should draw his swords, but decided against it. He shot a look at Royce to indicate he should not resist.
They were driven to the village center, where Dilladrum was shouting,
Let go of me! What are you
doing?
When he saw Wesley he asked,
What did you do? I told you not to offend them!
We didn
t offend them,
Hadrian explained.
We killed their beloved seer.
What!
Dilladrum looked as if he was about to faint.
Actually, it is a misunderstanding, but I
m not sure we
ll get the chance to explain,
Wesley put in.
At least Thranic will die with us,
Royce said loud enough for the sentinel to hear.
A martyr
s death is a fair price to rid the world of you and your kind.
Lightning flashed again, revealing the pallid faces of the crew in its stark light.
Grady was shoved to the ground and reached for his sword>
Grady, don
t!
Hadrian said.
That
s right,
Wesley shouted.
No one draw weapons. They
ll slaughter us.
They will anyway,
Derning replied.
Poe and Hadrian pulled Grady back to his feet. All around them, the ring of warriors formed a wall, behind which churned a crowd of shouting faces and raised fists. The rain-drenched mob pushed and cried its words lost in a roar of hatred. Lightning flashed once more, and a single voice rang out,
You knew!
Instantly the crowd fell silent and parted. Only the pour of rain disturbed the stillness as Fan Irlanu entered the circle, Joqdan at her side carried a deadly-looking spear, his eyes grim and focused on Zulron.
Burandu, it is not the strangers fault. Itwas Zulron who asked that I do the reading. He knew this one had elven blood. But I am still alive!
But
no
how could you
Zulron stammered.
He is not an Old One,
Fan Irlanu said.
He is a kaz! There is humanity in him
footholds, Zulron,
footholds!
What
s going on?
Wesley asked Hadrian.
Isn
t she the one Royce killed? What
s she saying?
She seems a might upset,
Grady said.
But not at Royce,
Poe remarked.
Who then?
Grady asked.
Zulron has tried to kill me. I have known for some time his ambitions were great. I saw the treachery in his heart, but I neverexpected he would go so far.
Joqdan, what say you. Is what Fan Irlanu says true?
Burandu addressed his warlord.
Joqdan thrust his spear into the chest of Zulron.
The long blade passed fully through the oberdaza
s body. Those nearby jostled backward, everyone
moving away. Joqdan advanced the length of his spear
s shaft and gripped Zulron by the throat.
Holding him with strong arms, he spat in the witchdoctor
s face. The light faded from the oberdaza
s
eyes, and Joqdan withdrew his spear as Zulron fell dead.
I think that answers your question,
Poe remarked.
Burandu looked down at the body, then up at Joqdan, and nodded.
Joqdan is neverwrong. I am
pleased you are safe, Fan Irlanu,
he said to her. Then the Elder addressed Wesley and the others.
Forgive dee dishonor of evil Zulron. Judge us not by
is actions. You too
ave such men in your vorld,
eh?
Wesley glanced at Thranic and Royce.
Burandu shouted to his warriors and they dispersed the crowd. Many paused to kiss Fan Irlanu who stood weakly, leaning against Joqdan. She offered a strained smile, but Hadrian could see the paleness of her face and the effort in her breathing.
The Elder spoke briefly with Joqdan and Fan Irlanu, then Joqdan lifted the seer once more and carried her to one of the smaller dwellings. Zulron
s body was dragged away and with him went
most of the Tenkins.
That
s it?
Grady asked.
Wait,
Dilladrum said as the leopard-skinned man approached. They spoke for a moment then Dilladrum returned.
The village of Oudorro asks our forgiveness for the misunderstanding and begs the honor to continue as our host.
They looked at one another skeptically.
They are sincere.
Wesley sighed and nodded.
Thank them for their kindness, but we will be leaving in the morning.
Kindness?
Derning muttered.
They nearly skinned us alive. We should get out now while we can.
I see no advantage in venturing into these jungles at night,
Wesley affirmed.
We will leave at first
light.
And what about Melborn?
Thranic hissed.
You, Doctor Levy, and Seamen Blackwater and Melborn will come with me. The rest I order to quarters to get as much sleep as possible.
A young Tenkin trotted up to them and spoke to Dilladrum, his eyes watching Royce.
What is it?
Wesley asked.
Fan Irlanu has requested Royce and Hadrian.
Before Thranic could object, they both nodded and offered an
Aye, aye, sir.
***
Fan Irlanu lay on a bed beneath a thin white sheet, as a young girl patted her forehead with a damp cloth rinsed repeatedly in a shallow basin. Joqdan remained at her side. His great spear, still covered in Zulron
s blood, stood by the door.
Is she really all right?
Hadrian asked.
I vill be fine,
Fan Irlanu replied.
Et vas a terrible shock. Et vill take time.
I
m sorry,
Royce offered.
I know,
she told him. Her face was sympathetic to the point of sadness.
Iknow you are.
You saw something?
Vere I to touch Joqdan
s
and vis dee tulan smoke in me, I could tell us vaat
e ate for dee midday
meal yesterday and vaat
e vill eat tomorrow. If I touched Galenti
s
and, I could name dee woman
e
vill marry and ou vill outlive dee other. I could also tell dee precise events dat vill surround
is death.
So clear ez my sight dat I can see a life in detail, but not you. You are a mystery, a cloud. Looking into you ez like seeing a mountain range in a thick fog
I can only see dee
igh points vis no means of
connecting dem. You arekaz in dee Ghazel tongue
in your language amir , yes?
a mix of
uman and
elven blood. This gives you a long life.
She paused to gather some strength and Joqdan
s brow
furrowed further.
Imagine looking down a road, you see most dings clearly, dee trees, dee rocks, dee leaves. But vis you, et ez as if I am standing
igh in dee air staring out at dee
orizon
very few details. My sight can
only span so far and dat does not include dee lifespan of akaz . Dere ez too much.
But you saw something.
I saw many dings. Too many,
she told him. Her eyes were soft and comforting.
Tell me,
Royce said.
Please, I know a woman. She is very much like you, but something troubles her. She won
t speak of it, and I think she has seen things like you have
things that trouble her.
She ez Tenkin?
I
m not sure, but she bears the same mark as you.
Fan Irlanu nodded.
I sent for you because of vaat I saw. I vill tell you vaat I know and den I must rest. I may sleep for a long time, and Joqdan vill not allow any to disturb me. So, I must speak now.
I am certain I vill not see you again. As I said, I saw much, but understood little
too much distance,
too much time. Most are vague feelings dat are
ard to put in words, but vaat I sensed was powerful.
Royce nodded.
She paused a moment, thinking, then said,
Darkness surrounds you, death ez everywhere, et stalks you, hunts you and you feed upon et
blood begets blood
dee darkness consumes you. In dis darkness,
I saw two lights beside you. One vill blow out and in dat same breeze, dee other flickers, but et must not go out. You must protect dee flame against dee storm.
I saw a secret
et ez ah
et ez
idden. Et ez covered, dis great treasure. A man
ides et, but a woman
knows
she alone knows and so she prepares. She speaks in riddles dat vill be revealed
profound
truths disguised for now. You vill remember veen dee time comes, dee path laid out for you
in dee
dark.
Joqdan spoke something in Tenkin, but Fan Irlanu shook her head and pushed on.
I saw a great journey. Ten upon dee road, she ou vears dee light vill lead dee vay. Dee road goes deep into dee earth, and into despair. Dee voices of dee dead guide your steps. You walk back in time. Dee three
zousand year battle begins again. Cold grips dee vorld, death comes to all and a choice ez before you. You alone stand in dee balance, your veight vill tilt dee scales, but to vich side is unclear. You must choose between darkness and light, and your choice vill affect many.
She
paused, shaking her head slowly.
Like trees in a forest, like blades of grass
too many to count. And I
fear dat in dee end you vill choose dee darkness and turn your back to dee light.
You saidshe ,
Royce questioned.
Who did you mean? Is it Gwen?
I do not know names. Dey are mere feelings, glimpses of a dream.
What is this secret?
I do not know, it ez
idden.
When you say there are two lights and one blows out, does that mean someone will die?
She nodded.
I dink so
yes, et felt dat vay. I sensed a loss, so great I still feel et.
She reached out and
touched Royce
s hand and a tear slipped down her cheek.
Your road ez one of great anguish.
Royce said nothing for a moment, then asked,
What is this great journey?
She shook her head.
I vish I knew more. Your life
your whole life
as been pain and so much more
lies ahead. I am sorry, but I cannot tell you more dan dat.
She rests now,
Joqdan told them. From his firm tone they knew it was time to go.
They walked out of the hut and found Wyatt watching out for them.
Waiting up?
Hadrian asked.
Didn
t want you to step into the wrong hut by accident.
He gave a wink.
The rest bunked down?
He nodded.
So, you
re an elf,
Wyatt said to Royce.
That explains a lot. What did the lady want?
To tell me my future.
Good news?
It nearly killed her. What do you think?
Chapter 17
The Palace of the Four Winds
Thranic was furious. Wesley refused to take any action against Royce, and the sentinel railed that under imperial law all elves were subject to arrest. Wesley had little choice but to acknowledge this, but added that given their circumstances, he had neither a prison nor chains. He also pointed out that they were not within the bounds of the New Empire, and until they were he was the sole judge of the law.
It is my duty to see this mission to completion,
Wesley told the sentinel.
A bound man will only be
a hindrance to this effort, particularly when he is injured and exhibits no desire to flee.
Royce watched all this with an expression of mild amusement. Thranic went on relentlessly, until finally Wesley gave in and approached Royce.
Will you give me your word you will not attempt to
escape me or Sentinel Thranic before this mission is over?
On my word, sir,
Royce replied.
There is nothing that could make me willingly leave Sentinel Thranic
s side.
There you have it,
Wesley concluded, satisfied.
He is an elf! What good is the word of an elf?
As Thranic straightened and rose above Wesley the
look on his face caused the young captain to take a step back.
As Sentinel of Erivan Affairs,
appointed by the Patriarch, it is my duty to purge the empire of their foul influence. I demand you place the elf under my authority at once!
Wesley hesitated. The challenge of a sentinel broke the nerve of many kings, and Thranic was more intimidating than any Hadrian had encountered. His hunched vulture demeanor and piercing glare were more than daunting.
Hadrian was tense. He knew the sentinel was already dead, but would prefer his partner to pick his own time and place. If Wesley agreed to surrender Royce, there would be a battle here and now that would see one of them dead. Hadrian let his fingers slip slowly to the pommels of his swords, and he marked the position of Defoe in anticipation.
Wesley locked his jaw and returned Thranic
s glare.
He may be an elf, sir, but he is also one ofmy
crew.
Your crew? You no longer have a ship. You
re nothing but a boy playing pretend captain!
the
sentinel bellowed angrily.
Wesley stiffened.
wit what were you playing at in the hold of the ship, sir? Was that what you call administering your authority?
This took Thranic by surprise.
Oh, yes, the officers knew of your nightly visits to thecargo . It
s a small ship, sir, and the officers
bunks are just above. We heard you every night, torturing them and I fear a good deal more than that. I am no great fan of elves but, by Maribor, there are limits to the abuses conscience permits!
No, sir, I don
t think I will be turning Seaman Melborn over to your authority anytime soon. Even should I trust you to treat him honorably, I need all the hands I can get and, as we both know, you are not an honorable man.
It is a pity to see such a young, promising lad throw his life away.
Thranic fumed.
I
ll see that you
are executed for this.
To do so, we must return to Avryn. Let
s hope we both live to see that day.
***
At dawn the crew of theEmerald Storm left the village and once more plunged into the jungle, traveling northeast of the Oudorro valley, by a narrow, barely visible path. The rain left the ground swamped, but it had stopped at last. On the third day, cliffs and chasms barred their path. They followed ridgelines where a stumble could send a man falling hundreds of feet, walked perilous rope bridges that spanned raging rivers, and followed rocky clefts down into dark valleys. In the lower ravines it was dark, even at midday. Trees created phantom images. Rocks looked like crouching animals, and stunted, gnarled bushes appeared like monsters in the mist.
Royce
s health steadily improved, though his disposition remained unchanged. He was able to walk on his own most of the day and thanks to Fan Irlanu
s balm, his wounds no longer required a
bandage.
On the fourth day out of Oudorro they found the bodies. Corpses laid on the path, dressed in clothes similar to those of Dilladrum and the Vintu. Flies hovered and the stench of decay lingered in the air. They had been dead for some time and many were missing limbs or showed evidence of bites.
Animals?
Wesley asked.
Maybe.
Dilladrum looked off toward the east.
But perhaps the Panther is not able to contain his
beasts, just as Burandu told us.
You
re saying the Ghazel did this?
Dilladrum paused to study the jungle around them.
Impossible to say, and yet these bodies are
weeks old and it is not like the jungle to let them rot. Animals don
t like the smell of Ghazel and will
avoid an area with their smell, even if it means passing up a free meal.
This man is Hingara.
Dilladrum pointed to the body of a swarthy little man in a red cap.
He is a
guide, like me. He set out for the Palace of the Four Winds with a party like ours, weeks ago. He was a good man. He knew the jungle well, and as you can see, his group was large
as many as thirty
men in all. What kind of animal do you think would attack so large a company? A pack of wolves perhaps? A pride of lions? No, they would never attack a party this large. And what animal could kill without leaving a single body of their own behind? Ghazel, on the other hand
What about them?
Wesley asked.
They are like ghosts. Hingara could not have seen them coming. Imagine beings as nimble and at ease in these jungles as monkeys, but possessing the strength and ferocity of tigers. They have the instinct of beasts but the intelligence of men. On a rainy day, they can smell a human three leagues away. This was a safe path, but I fear things have changed.
There are only about eighteen bodies here,
Wesley observed.
If he set out with thirty men, where
are the rest?
Dilladrum let his sight settle on the naval officer.
Where indeed.
Wesley grimaced as he looked at the bodies.
Are you saying they took them to eat?
That
s what they do.
Dilladrum pointed to the torn and mutilated bodies.
They ate some on the spot
in the fever following the battle, but I think they carried the rest back to their den where I can only guess they feasted by barbequing the bodies on spits and drinking warmed blood from the men
s
skulls.
You don
t know that!
Wesley challenged, a look of disgust filling his features.
Dilladrum shook his head.
As I said, I am guessing. No one truly knows what goes on in their camps, any more than a deer knows what goes on in the dining halls of a king.
You make it sound as if they are our betters.
In these jungles, they are. Here they are the hunters and we the prey. I told you the trip would be harder from now on. We will burn no fire, cook no food, and pitch no tent. Our only hope of survival lies in slipping though unnoticed.
Should we bury them?
Wesley asked.
What the animals do not touch neither should we. It would announce our presence to the whole jungle. It is also not wise to linger. We should press on with all haste.
***
They traveled steadily downward now, following a rapidly flowing river through a cleft in the mountains. The lower they went the higher the canopy rose and the darker their world became.
They camped along a bank where the river swirled around a break of boulders. With no fire or tent it was not much of a camp. They huddled on a bare sandy patch exposed by a shift in the river
s
bend eating cold salted meat. Royce sat at the edge of the camp and watched Thranic watching him.
They had played this game each night since the village. Royce was certain Defoe had filled Thranic
s head with numerous stories about his reign of terror against the Diamond. Thranic appeared aloof, but Royce was certain Defoe
s words wormed in nonetheless. Without Staul, and
with Defoe no longer a trusted ally, Thranic was dramatically weakened. The sentinel
s
confrontation with Wesley revealed Thranic
s growing desperation
his failure another setback. The
balance was shifting, he was slipping from the hunter to the hunted, and with each day Royce grew stronger.
Royce enjoyed the game. He liked watching the shadows growing under Thranic
s eyes as he got
less and less sleep. He savored the way Thranic spun whenever an animal rustled branches behind him on the trail, his eyes searching rapidly for Royce. Mental torture was never something Royce aimed for, but in Thranic
s case he was making an exception.
Royce
s quick turn had saved his life. Although he might have bled to death if Hadrian and the others had not found him or died from fever if the Tenkin woman had not helped, the wound itself was relatively superficial. For several days he had portrayed being weaker than he was. He had pain when pressing on his side, and was still experiencing some lack of movement, but for the most part he was his old self again.
Royce might have continued the game longer, but it was becoming too dangerous. Wesley
s
defiance changed the playing field. The sentinel
s options were diminishing. That play to force
Wesley
s hand was his last civil gambit. As long as Wesley remained a legitimate leader, those like Wyatt, Grady, Derning, and Poe would side with him. It would be obvious to Thranic that Wesley was a pawn blocking his forward movement, one that would need to be removed. It was time to deal with Thranic.
Royce curled up to sleep with the rest of them, but selected a place hidden by a small thicket of plants. In the darkness he lay there only briefly, before leaving his blanket filled with brush and melted into the jungle.
Thranic had chosen to bed down near the river, which Royce thought considerate since he intended to dispose of his body in the strong current. Royce slipped around the outside of the camp until he came to where Defoe and Levy slept, only Thranic was missing.
***
Thwack!A narrow tree trunk splinteredAt the last moment Melborn had moved. A crossbow bolt lodged itself in the wood, where a second before he had been crouching.
Thranic struggled desperately to crank back the string on his weapon.
Did you think to find me in
my bed?
he hissed.
Did you really think killing me would be that easy
elf?
He cranked back on the gear.
You shouldn
t fear me as much as you do. I am here to help you. It is my burden to help all of you. I will cleanse the darkness in your hearts. I will free you of the burden of your disgusting offensive life. You no longer need to be an affront to Maribor. I will save you!
And who will save you?
Royce replied.
He was just a few feet from where he had been. Thranic glanced down to set the bolt in the track.
He lifted the bow but when he looked up Royce was gone.
What do you mean?
Thranic asked, hoping Royce would reveal his position.
You see awfully well in the dark, Thranic,
Royce said from his right.
Thranic turned and fired, but the bolt merely ripped through an empty thicket.
Well, but not perfectly,
Royce observed, appearing once more, but much closer and Thranic immediately began ratcheting back his bow.
He had two more bolts.
You also managed to slip into the trees without me seeing you. And you crept up behind me. That
s
remarkable indeed. How old are you, Thranic? I
ll bet you
re older than you look.
The sentinel loaded the bolt, looked up, but once more Royce was gone.
What are you driving at, elf?
Thranic asked, crossbow at his hip. Backing against a tree, he peered around the jungle.
We
re alike you and I,
Royce said from behind him.
Thranic spun around. He saw movement slipping through the brush and fired. The shot went wide and he cursed. Thranic began cranking back the string once more.
Is that why you do it?
Royce asked.
Is that why you torture elves? Tell me, are you purging them
or
yourself?
Shut up!
Thranic
s hand slipped on the gear and the string snapped back, slashing his fingers. He was shaking now.
You can
t kill the elf inside, so you torture and murder all those you find.
He was closer.
I said, shut up!
How much elven blood does it take to wash away the sin ofbeing one yourself?
Closer still.
Damn you!
he screamed, fighting with the bow that refused to cooperate with his shaking fingers.
He drew the string back again only to have it jump the track and snap free. He put a foot through the loop at the bow
s nose and pulled. Now it was stuck. He pressed desperately on the ratchet handle. It refused to move.Crack! The winch snapped.
In horror, Thranic stopped breathing as he looked down. He struggled to pull the bowstring back with just the strength of his arms. He pulled with all his might, but he could not get it to the catch.
He was giving Melborn too much time. He let the bow fall to the grass and drew his dagger.
He waited. He listened. He spun. He looked.
He was alone.
***
Get up.
Hadrian woke to Royce
s voice as his friend moved through the camp. He knew the tone and instantly got to his feet.
What is it?
Company,
Royce told him,
Wake everyone.
What
s happening?
Wesley asked groggily as the camp slowly came alive.
Quiet,
Royce whispered. He crouched with his dagger drawn, staring out into the darkness.
Ghazel?
Grady asked.
Something,
Royce replied.
A lot of somethings.
The rest of them heard it now, twigs snapping and leaves rusting. They were all on their feet with weapons drawn.
Backs to the river!
Wesley shouted.
Ahead of them a light appeared, then disappeared, then another blinked. Two more flickered off to the right and left, and sounds of movemen grew louder and closer. Dovin Thranic stumbled back into camp, causing a brief alarm. Several people looked at him oddly, but said nothing.
Everyone
s attention remained on sounds from the trees.
Shadowy figures carried torches within the thick weave of the jungle. Slowly they climbed out of the brush and into the clearing around the riverbank. Twenty approached from all sides at once. At first they appeared to be strange monstrous beasts, until they fully entered the clearing revealing themselves as men; stocky, bull-necked brutes with white painted faces, bone armor, and headdresses of long feathers. They moved with ease through the dense brush. In their hands were crude clubs, axes, and spears. They circled in silence, creeping forward.
We come in peace!
Hadrian heard Dilladrum shout in Tenkin, his voice sounding weak.
We have
come to see Warlord Erandabon. We bear a message for him.
As they grew nearer, they began hooting and howling, shaking their weapons. Some brandished teeth, while others beat their chests or stomped naked feet.
Dilladrum repeated his statement.
One of the larger men, who carried a decorated war axe, stepped forward and approached Dilladrum.
What message?
the Tenkin asked in a harsh, shallow voice.
It is a sealed letter,
Dilladrum replied.
To be given only to the warlord.
The man eyed each of them carefully. He grinned and then nodded.
Follow.
It was clearly the best they could expect, although Dilladrum mopped his forehead with his sleeve as he explained the situation.
The Tenkin howled orders. Torches went out and the rest melted back into the jungle. The leader remained as they quickly broke camp. Then with a motion for them to follow, he ran back into the trees, his torch lighting the way. He led them at a brisk rate that had everyone panting for breath and Bulard near collapse. Dilladrum shouted forward for a rest, or at least a slower pace. The only response was laughter.
Our new friends aren
t terribly considerate of an old man.
Bulard panted in between wheezing
inhales.
That
s enough!
Wesley shouted, and raised a hand for them to stop. The crew of theEmerald Storm needed little persuasion to take a break. The Tenkin and his torch continued forward, disappearing into the trees.
If he wants to keep jogging on without us, let him!
He
s not,
Royce commented.
He
s hiding in the trees up ahead with his torch out. There are also several on either side of us with more than a few to our rear.
Wesley looked around then said,
I don
t see anything at all.
Royce smiled.
What good is it having an elf in your crew if you can
t make use of him?
Wesley raised an eyebrow, looked back out into the trees, then gave up altogether. He pulled the cork from his water bag, took a swig, and passed it around. Turning his attention to the historian, who sat in the dirt doubled over, he asked,
How you doing, Mister Bulard?
Bulard
s red face came up. He was sweating badly, his thin hair matted to his head. He said nothing, his mouth preoccupied with the effort of sucking in air, but he managed to offer a smile and a reassuring nod.
Good,
Wesley said,
let
s proceed, butwe will set the pace. Let
s not have them exhausting us.
Aye,
Derning agreed, wiping his mouth after his turn at the water.
It would be just the thing for
them to run us in circles until we collapse, then fall on us and slit our throats before we can catch our breaths.
Maybe that
s what happened to the others we spotted. Perhaps it was these blokes,
Grady
speculated.
We
re going somewhere,
Royce replied.
I can smell the sea.
It was true. Hadrian had not noticed it until that moment, but he could taste the salt in the air. What he assumed was wind in the trees, he now realized, was the voice of he sea.
Let
s continue, shall we, gentlemen?
Wesley said and moved them out. As they did, the Tenkin
s
torch appeared once more and moved on ahead. Wesley refused to chase it, keeping them at a comfortable pace. The torch returned and after a few more tries to coax them, gave up and matched their stride.
Travel progressed sharply downward. The route soon became a rocky trail that plummeted to the face of a cliff. Below they could hear the crashing of waves. As dawn approached, they could see their destination. A stone fortress rose high on a rocky promontory that jutted into the ocean and guarded a natural harbor hundreds of feet below the rocky edge. The Palace of the Four Winds looked ancient, weathered by wind and rain until it matched the stained and pitted face of the dark granite upon which it sat. Built of massive blocks, it was inconceivable that men could have placed such large stones. Displaying the same austerity as the Tenkins, it lacked ornamentation. Ships filled the large sheltered bay on the lee side of the point. There were hundreds, all with reefed black sails.
When they approached the great gate, their guide stopped.
Weapons are not allowed past this point.
Wesley scowled as Dilladrum translated, but was not surprised. This was the custom even in Avryn.
One did not expect to walk armed into a lord
s castle. They presented their weapons, and Hadrian
noted that neither Thranic nor Royce surrendered any.
Thranic had been acting oddly ever since stumbling into camp. He had not said a word and his eyes never left Royce.
They entered the fortress where a dozen well-equipped guards looked down from ramparts while another dozen lined their route. The exterior looked nearly ruined. Stone blocks had fallen left broken on the ground.
Inside the castle, the decor was no more cheerful. Here, too, the withering decay of centuries of neglect left the once great edifice little more than a primordial cave. Roots and fungi grew along the corridor crevices, dead leaves clustered in corners where the swirl of drafts deposited them. Dust, dirt, and cobwebs obscured the ancient decorative carvings, sculptures, and chiseled writings.
The Tenkins had strung crude banners over the walls, long pennants that depicted a white Tenkin-style axe on a black field. Just as in Oudorro, row upon row of shields hung from the ceiling like bats in a cavern. A massive fireplace occupied one whole side of the great chamber, a massive gaping maw of a hearth in which an entire tree trunk smoldered. Upon the floor lay the skin of a tiger whose head stared with gleaming emerald eyes and yellowing fangs. A stone throne stood at the far end of the hall. The base of the chair had cracked where a vine intertwined the legs making it list to one side, its seat draped in a thick piling of animal skins.
A wild-eyed man sat upon the throne. His head sported a tempest of hair jutting in all directions, long and black with streaks of white. Deep cuts and burns scarred his face. Thick brows overshadowed bright, explosive eyes that darted about rapidly, rolling in his skull like marbles struggling to free themselves from the confines of his head. He was bare-chested except for an elaborate vest of small-laced bones. His long fingers absently toyed with a large, bloodstained axe lying across his lap.
Who is this?
the warlord asked in Tenkin his loud disturbing voice echoed from the walls.
Who is
this that enters the hall of Erandabon unannounced and unheralded? Who treads Erandabon
s forest
like sheep to be gathered? Who dare seek Erandabon in his den, his holy place?
A strange assortment of people surrounded him and all eyes were on the party as they entered.
Toothless tattooed men spilled drinks while women with matted hair and painted eyes swayed back and forth to unheard rhythms. One lounged naked upon a silk cushion, with a massive snake coiled about her body as she whispered to it. Beside her, an old hairless man ellow nails as long as his fingers painted curious designs on the floor, and everywhere the hall was choked with the smoke of burning tulan leaves that smoldered in a central brazier.
In the darkest shadows were others. Hadrian could barely make them out through the fog of smoke and the flickering firelight. They clustered in the dark, making faint staccato chattering sounds like the whine of cicadas. Hadrian knew that sound well. He could not see them, merely the suggestion of movement cast in shadows upon stone. They shifted nervously, anxiously, like a pack of hungry dogs, their motions jittery and too fast to be human.
Dilladrum shooed Wesley forward. Wesley took a breath and said,
I am Midshipman Wesley
Belstrad, acting captain of what remains of the crew of Her Imperial Majesty
s ship theEmerald
Storm , out of Aquesta. I have a message for you, Your Lordship.
He bowed deeply, which looked
comical to Hadrian that a lad of such noble bearing should bow before the likes of Erandabon Gile who was just shy of a madman.
Long Erandabon
as waited for vord,
the man upon the throne spoke in Apelanese.
Long Erandabon
as counted dee moons and dee stars. Dee vaves crash nightly, dee ships approach and gather, dee darkness grows, and Erandabon vaits. Sits and vaits. Vaits and sits. Dee great shadow is growing in dee north. Dee gods come once more bringing death and horror to all. Dee undying will crush dee vorld beneath deir step, and Erandabon ez made to vait. Vere ez dis message? Speak! Speak!
Wesley took a step forward as he pulled the letter from his coat, but paused, noticing the broken seal. As he hesitated, an overly thin man dressed in feathers and paint snatched the letter away. He growled at Wesley like a dog showing his teeth.
Not approach dee great Erandabon vis unclean
ands!
The feather man handed the message to the warlord who studied it for a moment, his eyes racing madly back and forth. A terrible grin grew across his face, and he tore the note into pieces and began eating it. It did not take long, and while he ate no one said a word. With his final swallow, the warlord raised his hand then and said,
Lock them away.
Wesley stood stunned as Tenkin guards approached and grabbed him.
What
s happening?
he
protested.
We are officials of the Empire of Avryn! You can
t
Gile laughed as the guard dragged them down the hall.
Wait!
another voice bellowed.
It was arranged!
It was Thranic, who deftly dodged the guards
advancing on the warlord angrily.
My team and I are to be given safe passage. I am here to pick up a Ghazel guide who will take us safely through Grandanz Og!
Erandabon rose quickly to his feet faster than he looked. He raised his axe, halting Thranic mid-step.
Veapons did you bring? Food for dee Many did you deliver to Erandabon?
the warlord shouted
at him.
It sank!
Thranic yelled back.
And the deal wasn
t based on the weapons or the elves.
The chattering sounds from the darkness grew louder. The noise appeared to disturb even the Tenkin. The hairless man stopped drawing his designs and shuddered. The woman with the snake gasped.
Erandabon remained oblivious to the rise in their tenor as he gibbered in glee.
No! Based on dee
open gates of Delgos! Vaat proof of dis? Vaat proof does Erandabon
ave? You vait
ere. You stay
sealed and if Drumindor does not fall,you vill be food for dee Many! Erandabon decrees it! Ou are you to defy Erandabon?
Who are you to defy Erandabon?