by Jason Fry
Miggs looked from Hejira to Stax, his eyes dark with anger. “And if I don’t want no part of this new path of yers?”
“Think about why we’re here,” Ramoa said. “Is this really the life you want to keep leading?”
Miggs glared at her, and Stax’s hand crept to the hilt of his sword. But then the bearded raider seemed to sag. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he nodded.
“There’s one more thing,” Stax said. “That shirt belongs to me.”
Now Miggs really was angry. But then he started to unbutton the shirt, his fingers trembling slightly. As people at other tables looked on in disbelief, he stripped the shirt off, balled it up and set it in the middle of the table. Then he got to his feet and strode bare-chested out of the inn.
“I will be outside,” Hejira said calmly, once Miggs was gone. “I may suspend my vow only when I absolutely must, and then only for the briefest periods.”
“That was kind of intense,” said a pale Osk, as the door closed behind Hejira.
Stax had to agree. In fact, he felt like throwing up. But Ramoa smiled at him.
“And now we find Fouge?” she asked.
“And now we find Fouge.”
“Good. I only have one question: Why did you want this shirt back? In fact, why did you own it in the first place? It’s awful.”
A country of legends * Into the caverns * An ignoble retreat and a noble end
The next morning, Stax, Hejira, Ramoa, and Osk mounted their horses, put a lead on the donkey, and headed east out of Karamhés, riding along the south bank of the river. The caravan town gave way to farms, and within an hour they found themselves riding through a green, pleasant country, the hills dotted with gray and black sheep.
But something felt off, and finally Stax realized what it was.
“There are no people,” he said. “We’re not far from a big town, the river’s navigable by boat, and this land is ideal for farming and raising livestock. But it’s empty. There aren’t even other travelers.”
“Why would that be?” asked Osk, who was clinging unhappily to the neck of her horse.
“I do not know this country,” said Hejira. “But I have heard tales of it. Supposedly the Omphalos lies east of Karamhés.”
“The Omphalos?” asked Stax. “What’s that?”
“The World-Navel,” Hejira said. “The place where life began.”
“Right,” said Ramoa. “The Overworld’s origin point. Remember, Stax? That’s why your compass points this way. But I’ve never been east of Karamhés either. These lands are new to me. Maybe it’s taboo to travel here.”
“We could ask him,” suggested Osk.
Startled, Stax looked ahead and saw a lone trader on the riverbank, clad in colorful garments, leading a pair of shaggy llamas.
The trader saw them too, and drew back in alarm.
“We mean you no harm,” Stax called out, slowing his horse and raising his hands to show they were empty.
The trader stood warily as they approached, and the llamas grunted in fright. When they were close enough, he began talking rapidly in his deep, rolling language, and pointing ahead of them to the east.
“What is he saying, Heji?” Ramoa asked.
“I do not speak his tongue,” Hejira replied. “But I can guess. He has no trade goods, and is very agitated. I suspect he has been robbed, and that the robbers dwell to the east.”
Stax nodded. “Something tells me we’re going in the right direction.”
“I believe Stax is correct,” said Hejira. “We are traveling his path. And we are close to its end.”
“I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Stax said, but Hejira said nothing. The trader stared at them for a moment, shook his head, and pulled his llamas away from the crowd of adventurers.
As they rode along, they began to see ruins—first the stubs of walls, then the stumps of towers, until they were surrounded by the rubble and rack of tumbled structures.
“This wasn’t just some town, but a major city,” Ramoa said. “And it’s old. Older than anything I’ve ever seen. Have you ever seen anything like this, Heji?”
“I have not,” Hejira said. “I suspect it is connected to the Omphalos.”
While Ramoa and Hejira exchanged theories, Stax tugged on his horse’s reins and dropped back to ride alongside Osk, who was clinging unhappily to her mount.
“So what do you think of the project I suggested?” Stax asked. “Would it work?”
“Yes, I think so,” Osk said. “As long as I have all the materials I need. But are you sure this is what you want to do, Stax?”
“No,” Stax said. “I’m not sure about anything. Except that I’m not a warrior, no matter what Heji and Ramoa think.”
“You may have to be,” Osk warned him.
“I know,” Stax said. “And maybe that’s the right path. But maybe not. In which case, I’m going to need your help following one that’s a little different.”
* * *
—
Farther to the east, the river thinned until it was little more than a stream, then vanished into the side of a hill—the first in a line of hills that gradually rose ahead of Stax’s party. The hills were green, but broken by patches of sand and more ancient walls, which zigzagged back and forth across the landscape.
The horses picked their way up and down the hillsides, but they were growing increasingly nervous. Osk’s horse kept rearing and trying to unseat the little artificer, and Stax’s kept trying to go sidewise, ears pressed back against its head.
Hejira, of course, was the one who saw the mountain first. Soon they could all see it: a spike of stone rising from the tumbled hills. One side was strangely bright, and there was a cloud of white at the base of the mountain below it.
“Is that the mountain?” asked Osk.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” Stax said.
The brightness they’d seen turned out to be lava, a torrent of it splashing down one side of the mountain and into a small lake, which appeared and disappeared behind veils of steam. And atop the mountain was a fortress of dark stone. To Stax’s eyes it looked like a malevolent ruler, brooding over the surrounding lands far below it.
“I suggest we stop here and take stock of our surroundings,” said Hejira. “It would not be wise to proceed without learning as much as we can.”
“Agreed,” said Ramoa. “We can tie up the horses here. Then we split up and circle the mountain. Heji, you take Osk with you and I’ll take Stax. We can meet on the other side.”
Ramoa kept low and Stax did the same. The sides of the mountain were steep and sheer, mostly dirt and andesite, speckled with outcroppings of diorite and granite.
“That would be a dangerous climb,” said Stax, and Ramoa nodded.
“Fouge must get up some other way,” she said. “Unless he can fly.”
“We could get up there by building ladders.”
“If you cut down a forest, maybe,” Ramoa countered.
The lake was deep and dark, hissing and boiling around the brilliant orange lava. Stax kept a wary eye on the top of the mountain, alert for signs of archers or other guards, but saw only rock.
“I wonder if Heji’s seen anything,” Ramoa said.
“I was wondering what he and Osk could be talking about,” Stax said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Osk sees the world in terms of machines she can build to improve it. But Heji leaves the world basically untouched. He never goes inside. I don’t think he’d even grasp the idea of what a machine is, and they’re definitely forbidden by his code. So that has to be a very strange conversation.”
Ramoa grinned. “Maybe Osk has convinced Heji he’s all wrong about this code thing. We’ll find Heji wearing some kind of armor made out of pistons, swinging a redstone supersword.”
/> “Or maybe Heji convinced Osk,” Stax suggested. “We’ll find her barefoot, wearing animal skins, and yelling that redstone is a perversion of the natural order.”
* * *
—
Neither turned out to be the case. Ramoa and Hejira spotted each other at a distance, on the eastern side of the mountain. They also spotted a worn track leading through tumbled walls to the mountain’s base, where a cavern lit by torches gaped like the maw of some hungry creature.
“At least we found the way in,” Osk said.
“Do you see any guards?” Stax asked Hejira.
“No,” the traveler said, after scanning the area carefully. “Which concerns me. A fortress like the one above us is unlikely to be unguarded.”
“So what do you think we should do?” Stax asked.
Hejira considered the question carefully. “I propose that I take the lead, with Ramoa to my left and you to my right. Osk is not an experienced fighter and should stick close to us.”
“I agree with that one hundred percent,” Osk said hastily. Stax thought about pointing out that he wasn’t exactly an experienced fighter either, but decided not to. The other three knew that already, and calling attention to it would help nothing.
“We will have to fight, perhaps against heavy odds,” Hejira said. “But this Fouge Tempro does not have an army. From what Miggs said, they are more of a rabble. And a rabble can be its own worst enemy. If tested by determined foes, they may prove ill-prepared, or not particularly loyal to their leader. Confront them, and they may surrender. Press them in battle, and they may break and scatter, instead of fighting to the death. Or perhaps they will prove worthy opponents. The only way to find out is to fight. Understood?”
“All right,” Stax said, removing his cloak, his diamond armor shining in the light. “This quest is my burden, so as long as there’s talking to be done, I’ll do it. We give Fouge’s raiders a chance to abandon him. And then, if we have to, we fight.”
* * *
—
The cavern leading into the mountain was hacked out of the rock, with torches at irregular intervals on the walls, and stairs leading up at the far end. At first Stax thought it was empty—he hoped it was empty—but then he spotted windows set into one wall, and a door. It opened and four ill-dressed men stumbled out, swords held naked in their hands. At first glance, Stax didn’t recognize any of them from the long voyage across the ocean.
“You there, stop,” said the leader, a wiry, tattooed bald man. “This here’s private property. What’s your business?”
“I demand to speak with Fouge Tempro,” Stax said, in a voice he hoped was firm. “He robbed me, destroyed my home, and left me to die. Now he must answer for what he’s done.”
The thugs looked at one another.
“Boss is busy,” said the tattooed man. “No one interrupts his studies, not until he says so. Get lost, or we’ll put you to the sword.”
“Your boss must answer for what he’s done, but I have no quarrel with you. Go, and we will settle our business with Fouge ourselves.”
The raiders looked at one another in mingled amusement and disbelief.
“I got a better idea, fancy boy,” said one. “We give all four of you what you deserve, and me and the boys take that diamond armor and sword as trophies.”
One of the raiders fell back, clutching at his chest—one of Ramoa’s arrows had found its mark. Hejira was already in motion, his sword flashing. The tattooed bandit leapt at Stax, screaming, with his sword raised above his head.
Stax, caught off-balance, parried desperately, but his opponent shoved him aside and smashed his sword into Stax’s unprotected back. Stax felt the blow, but his armor took the brunt of it.
“Stax! Balance!” he heard Hejira yell.
He turned to find the tattooed raider standing in front of him, surprised that Stax was still on his feet. Stax brought his diamond sword around in an arc, sending him stumbling away, hurrying after the raider Ramoa had hit with an arrow. As Hejira advanced, face a mask of grim determination, the others fled in a panic.
Osk appeared frozen with shock.
“Are you all right?” she managed to ask Stax.
“Fine,” Stax said, somewhat surprised to discover it was true. His back hurt, but he was otherwise uninjured. “You make a good suit of armor, Osk. Thanks.”
“Not even the best armor can stand up to too much punishment,” Hejira warned Stax. “Be cautious.”
Stax nodded gravely. “I know. I will be.”
“What was that about Fouge’s studies?” asked Ramoa.
“I have no idea,” Stax said. “He never struck me as the studying type, to be honest.”
“That was all of them, right?” Osk asked.
Ramoa shook her head grimly. “There will be more.”
“More? How many more?”
“We cannot know,” Hejira said. “But now the next ones will know we are coming.”
“Oh,” squeaked Osk.
“Just stay with us, Osk,” Ramoa said, obviously impatient to get moving.
But Stax held up his hand, asking her to wait. He turned and put his hand on Osk’s shoulder. His friend was quivering.
“Osk, you’re scared and that’s okay,” he said. “I’m scared too. If it’s too much and you want to go back to Karamhés, go. But I’d appreciate it if you’d stay, because I might need your help once we reach the top of the mountain. And we all might need your help before then. We’re far, far stronger together than we are apart. When I get scared, I remind myself of that.”
“Okay, I’ll try,” said Osk, who was still breathing hard. “I think I can keep going.”
“Good,” said Stax. “If you can, I can. Heji, let’s go.”
Hejira waited for the other three to join him at the bottom of the stairs. As they took their places, he caught Stax’s eye and gave him an approving nod.
* * *
—
The interior of the mountain had been carved into a warren of rooms connected by stairwells. Most of the rooms were empty, and looked like they had been that way for many years. Fouge’s raiders had apparently taken over a disused fortress, one that had been built to house much larger numbers.
Stax and the others met several more groups of raiders, but no organized defense. They fought their way past these gangs, climbing ever higher, until they found themselves in a large cavern whose ceiling was mostly packed sand, its contours jagged above their heads. Sand lay piled up around the perimeter of the cavern too. Beyond lay a cave with a lower ceiling of stone, with several doors on both sides, set in a band of darker rock, and another stairway leading up.
“We have to be near the top of the mountain,” Stax said, pointing out the stairway.
He could feel his own anticipation rising, his eagerness to confront Fouge Tempro. Apparently Hejira could sense what he was feeling.
“Remember what you learned in the jungle, Stax: Do not get carried away by your emotions and lose your focus,” Hejira warned him.
Stax nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath.
“I would have thought there’d be more guards,” Osk said.
“Me too,” Ramoa said. “Behind those doors, maybe. Or maybe they’re higher up, with their boss.”
They started across the cavern floor. Ramoa had an arrow nocked, searching for targets. Stax kept turning from side to side warily. Only Hejira betrayed no anxiety; but then the veteran warrior never did. Osk hurried along behind them.
They were halfway across the cavern when a whisper of sand reached Stax’s ears. He turned, hoping his senses were playing tricks on him. But they weren’t. Raiders had emerged from hiding behind the mounds of sand around the edges of the cavern to their rear. Stax counted a dozen—no, more than that.
“Oh no,” Osk breathed.
/> “Stay calm,” Hejira urged. “We must work together.”
There were more bandits ahead of them, swords out. And their leader was a burly, black-bearded man.
Miggs.
“You should have run,” Stax said grimly.
“So should yeh,” Miggs replied. “Now, let’s not have a scene. Yeh’ve beaten long odds to come this far, fancy boy, but yer luck’s run out. Yer outnumbered and surrounded. Put down yer weapons.”
“Let my friends go and I will,” Stax said. “I’m the one your boss wants anyway.”
“Stax, no,” said Ramoa.
“I refuse as well,” said Hejira, studying the ceiling. “The rest of you go forward. I will handle the ones behind us.”
Stax looked at the packed sand that formed the roof of the ceiling and suddenly understood what Hejira planned to do.
“Heji, don’t!” he said.
But Hejira had already turned. Two quick steps and a spring and he was among the raiders to the rear of the party, sword flashing. Startled, the bandits tried to regroup, falling back before him.
“Take them!” yelled Miggs, ducking to avoid an arrow fired by Ramoa, who was running forward, reaching behind her for another arrow.
“I didn’t expect…” mumbled Osk. “I can’t…” And then the red-haired inventor broke and ran, back the way they’d come, past Hejira and the crew he was battling.
Osk dodged a bandit and raced out of the cavern. Stax started to call out to Osk, but had to turn his attention back to the battle, and specifically to Ramoa, who had driven away one of Miggs’s men but was alone against a dozen more. He hurried to her side as Hejira broke through the line of raiders and scrambled atop the piled sand.
“Look out!” Stax told Ramoa, who had slung her bow and drawn her sword.
Ramoa glanced at him and her eyes widened as she saw Hejira chopping with his sword at the sandy ceiling of the cavern.
