by P. R. Adams
“He said there are bandits in the hollow where we spotted water.”
“Then we sneak in during the dead of night and dispatch them.”
“Or we avoid them.”
“And leave enemies at our back?”
“They aren’t enemies, not unless we make them enemies.”
“What about where the drone takes us?”
“He still won’t say.”
She swatted dust and sand from the blanket top, each brush more energetic. “This prophet is not to be trusted.”
“I think we’ve already established that.”
Her head came up, giving him a full dose of annoyance. “Good. At your age, I worry about your memory.”
Riyun flicked imaginary twigs from where she’d been dusting. It was hard being a commander, and there were days where he questioned how he’d ever thought the path was worth treading. Then he thought of the lives he was responsible for and smiled.
Someone had to get these people home, and he was the only one dumb enough to try. He had to remember that.
46
Limestone buildings spread across the broad valley floor as far as Riyun could see from his perch on a high ridge to the west. He brushed a swaying zokavur stalk aside and put binoculars back to his eyes, then scanned the ruins again. Most of the structures were collapsed or on the verge of it, and the few that looked intact didn’t seem fit for occupation. Nothing rose higher than twenty feet, yet when the wind blew, it whistled through jagged-tipped marble columns and sagging window frames.
Yet…nothing. “And you’re sure you saw signs of occupation?”
Javika took the binoculars from him, searched for a moment, then pointed to one of the larger collapsed structures on the north side that looked down on the dark blue lake sparkling in the afternoon sun. “Beyond that, a well and a garden being picked over by rabbits. About three hundred paces north and up that slope from the lake, a basement with a sewage trench. Even you would smell it.”
“My sinuses are clearing, thanks.”
“And footprints that would have been left after a rain. Many footprints.”
One of the few people Riyun knew to always trust was Javika. If she said someone was living inside the ruins, then someone was living inside the ruins. It didn’t make sense for their prophet guide to bring them to occupied ruins. “I’ll have Hirvok take Lonar around to the north. We’ll move in from the south while they provide cover.”
“Not much sunlight remains.”
“They can double-time it.”
They returned to the others, who were waiting in a field of tall reeds.
Hirvok hopped up from his overwatch position on a nearby rise. His Annihilator was in its sniper rifle configuration. “Nothing. No movement.”
Riyun twisted around. No one following them only meant their exact position wasn’t known. “I want you to take Lonar to the north side of those ruins. There’re some high points. We’re going to need your eyes while we move in from the south and come in along the lake shore where the ruins begin.”
“That’s a long haul.” The sergeant shielded his eyes. “Losing the sun.”
Lonar pushed out of the reeds, autocannon resting on his shoulder. “Best we get going, then.” He winked at Riyun, then set off at a jog.
After a moment, Hirvok huffed and followed the tweak.
More reeds parted, and Alush slipped into view. The drone–prophet had been quiet since leading them to the valley edge.
Riyun checked his weapon. “No sign of Meriscoya or his allies.”
Alush glowed softly. “They have not been here.”
“Obviously, or that place would be a smoking crater. So, why are we here?”
“Fresh water. Ample food. A roof over your heads. These are things you desire.”
“What I desire most is putting a round between that wizard’s eyes.”
“He has not moved. We are drawing closer.”
Javika brushed past. “How much farther?”
The drone drifted back from her. “Not much.”
“And these ruins—they have a name?”
“Awurda. Long ago, it was the greatest city among many great cities. It was brought low by hubris.”
The tall warrior woman arched an eyebrow at Riyun, as if questioning whether that was Alush’s message: He wished to teach them the folly of arrogance.
There had to be something more to bringing them to the valley.
But Alush wasn’t going to share whatever it was. Riyun waved the others in close. “We’re going in as if there was a small army in there.”
Quil cocked his head. “You suspect someone awaits us?”
“No. The problem is, you can’t go off of what you suspect or what makes sense, especially not in a place like this.”
The pseudo nodded slowly. They were all learning this world’s painful lessons.
“We’ll be coming in from the south, keeping ruins between us and the possible location of the occupants.”
Symbra raised a hand. “Numbers?”
“Unknown. Let’s assume platoon strength.”
“And we’re going in with five of us?”
“We’ll have cover.”
The Onath bowed her head. “One sniper is all they need.”
“We’ll have our people on high ground.”
She twisted around, watching Hirvok and Lonar’s retreating forms. “All right.”
“There’s a fairly manageable descent that way.” Riyun pointed to where he’d seen a reasonable entry point. “Javika and I go first, Quil and Symbra help Naru down—”
That drew a glare from the hacker. “I’m certified in rappelling.”
“Help. You can still descend on your own. When we get down there, stay low. We’ll advance on the ruins. Once we’re in the ruins, watch your flank. Understood?”
They nodded.
It was all basic training, yet even the best sometimes became sloppy.
They headed to where he’d indicated, pulled their helmets on, and descended into the valley down the west wall, keeping the sun at their backs and the ruins ahead of them. Once at the bottom, they split wide and hurried to the closest debris piles. At Riyun’s signal, they advanced into the crumpled limestone rubble, crawling when necessary.
Static hissed in the lieutenant’s ear, then he thought he heard Hirvok’s voice. Riyun held up a clenched fist. “All hold.”
Quil and Symbra were visible, one to the left, the other to the right.
Riyun attempted to establish a dedicated connection to Hirvok. “Eagle, do you read me?”
There was more static, and again it sounded like the sergeant’s voice.
Something about the ruins was causing interference. Riyun connected to the others. “Don’t spread out too far. It looks like we’re getting interference from these structures. Advance slowly.”
About thirty feet later, the static came again. This time, there were snippets of sound. He thought there might have been mention of movement.
Hold position, or continue moving in?
Riyun risked raising his head over cover, hoping to spot the movement himself or get the attention of the duo on overwatch.
Instead, the signal came through clearly. “…old man…swimming…lake…”
Someone was swimming in the lake. Where?
It was dead silent in the ruins. Riyun pulled his helmet off and listened.
Splashing. Farther north.
Then the winds whistled, and the sound of splashing was lost.
He put his helmet on again and stood. “Hirvok, you see anything else? Are we clear?”
“No other movement…old geezer…lake.”
Riyun dropped behind cover again and reconnected to the team. “It looks clear. Use cover when you can, but let’s pick up the pace. Someone’s in the lake.”
Naru whistled. “In this weather?”
“Stay sharp.”
He stayed in a low hunched posture, moving as quickly as his legs could hand
le. In a battlefield, there was always the need to balance time and safety. A sniper could make someone’s day really miserable, but artillery could make everyone’s day messy in no time. Combining the two…?
So sometimes, you ran. You knew it could end horribly, but being stationary or slow wasn’t an option.
The farther north they moved, the larger the buildings and the better the cover opportunities. When Riyun finally saw the swimmer, they were only separated by a single foundation with walls that had collapsed inward. But Riyun could have been standing straight up, and the old man wouldn’t have noticed, not with the commotion he was kicking up.
“Cover me!” Riyun waved a hand over his head. “I’m moving to the shore.”
He danced around the rubble and darted down the sloping earth until the tips of his boots were covered in water. Only when he raised his carbine to his helmet did the old man stop splashing. In fact, he froze.
Riyun activated the helmet speaker. “Can you understand me?”
The old man spat water, for a moment looking like an ancient and ridiculous fountain statue. Rivulets dripped from white ringlets that clung to his chubby face and mingled with his equally white beard. “Quar-na dael. Kalong un vantsu.”
Kalong! Riyun recognized that. It was the Universal Perfect Language again. “Quil, get down here.”
The scraping of boots through rubble drew the old man’s attention. He squeegeed water from his furry, barrel chest with big, beefy hands. “Ni galla ai attu—”
The crazy speech dropped off to indistinct mumbling once Quil reached the shoreline.
And Riyun quickly realized the old man wasn’t looking at Quil, but at the artifact poking up over his head. Did he know something about the staff?
Quil ran through the same sort of introduction he’d used previously: mumbo-jumbo.
The old man nodded but kept his eyes on the artifact.
Riyun felt exposed, with nothing but water to the east. “Get him out of the water.”
More mumbo-jumbo, then the old man sloshed out of the lake. Naked.
There had to be clothes or something on the shore. Or maybe not.
If he lived alone, would he care? Was the old guy really a threat?
Riyun lowered his gun and looked toward the most obvious place to descend from the ruins. Yes—a pile of clothes.
He jogged toward them, scooped them up, then held them out. “Tell him to get dressed.”
The old man waddled over to the offered clothing, but his eyes kept going back to the artifact. Once he had his clothes on, Riyun realized how similar they were to Tarlayn’s traveling garb. How long had the old guy been a hermit? Maybe fashion didn’t change dramatically in such a backwards world.
Riyun connected to Hirvok. “Anything else going on?”
The sergeant snorted. “Just some friendly rabbits. They’re actually hopping all around us. Might have enough for stew tonight, if there’s anything left in that garden down there.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing to match that display you’ve got going on by the lake. I think you got the ladies all wound up.”
Although they hadn’t encountered many threats traveling to the ruins, there were predators in the hilly region, and not just the four-legged kind. Riyun turned back to Quil. “What’s his name? How long has he been out here?”
The pseudo started in on the mumbo-jumbo again but stopped when the old man held up a hand.
“I can answer myself.” The old geezer scratched his wet beard.
He understands us! Riyun brought his weapon up again. “Who are you?”
A smile spread across the old man’s chubby face, revealing brown, cracked teeth. “You may call me Fassyl. However, I believe it is I who should be asking questions. What are Outworlders doing in the ruins of Awurda?”
“We’re hunting someone and trying to find our way home.”
The old man chortled. “You’re hunting Meriscoya!”
“Why would we hunt him?”
“Because of that.” Fassyl nodded toward Quil. “Outworlders carting around an artifact.” The old man shook his head. “The last time I saw such a thing… Well, your people didn’t return.”
Our people? More of Beraga’s people? Riyun lowered his gun. “When was that?”
“Time eludes me here.” The old man rubbed his belly. “A year ago. Maybe two. They came this way with an old…acquaintance.”
“Maybe it’s someone we know.”
Fassyl chuckled. “Not likely. The arrogant woman wouldn’t give away an artifact like that. No, if you—”
“Was this woman a wizard?”
“Hm?” The old man’s chin dimpled as his lips twisted in curious mirth.
“Are you talking about Tarlayn?”
“You know her?”
“She’s dead.”
All hint of humor drained from the old man’s face. “Dead? How?”
“She tried using that artifact to kill Meriscoya and one of his dragons.”
“Again? Foolish woman.” The old man bowed his head. “I tried to teach her how to deal with artifacts such as this, but she was so sure that she knew everything…”
“You…taught her?” Had she said anything about that? Riyun couldn’t recall.
“Oh, yes. She didn’t—” A scowl flashed across the old man’s face. “You didn’t come seeking me out for assistance?”
Had that been Alush’s intent? “Not exactly.”
“No surprise, I suppose. She never needed assistance, if you asked her. Born to greatness.”
“I think she hurt them. Both of them. The wizard and dragon.”
“That’s good. But that staff, the power within it and what you can do with it, even the mad wizard would perish in the face of that. Assuming the person wielding it knew how to use it fully.”
Quil shot Riyun an inquisitive look; he nodded, and the pseudo shrugged his backpack off. “This staff that you say could kill Meriscoya—”
“Oh, without a doubt, in the right hands…” Fassyl smirked. “But when Tarlayn spurned my advances in favor of his… Well, I wasn’t about to stay around to see to it that she truly learned what it was to control such magnificent power.”
“It is power that you have mastered, though?”
“In my years at the Lyceum, before all of the charlatans crept out of the woodwork, well, I was the expert on all such matters.”
The pseudo slowly rolled the staff in his hands. “A greater expert than the dread wizard?”
“That young fool never bothered with artifacts. He believed that the greatest power came from himself. Stubborn and foolish and more than a little arrogant. Like her. A master often passes on weaknesses to students.”
Riyun once again saw the signal from Quil: time to close the deal. “Fassyl?”
Fassyl’s bushy brows rose. “Yes?”
“Why is it the dragons haven’t burned this place?”
“Well, perhaps they don’t quite see it as it is. In fact, without that artifact in your possession, neither would you.”
Something that let them see through illusion. Why wouldn’t Meriscoya want that? “At some point, won’t they hunt you down? No one would want to leave such a dangerous person out there, always posing a threat.”
The old man ran thick fingers through his wild beard. “I suppose I could be seen as a threat. Then again, Meriscoya would have been operating under the influence of his master when I left, and she considered me quite washed up. Just a part of the history I used to teach, you see.”
“What if you had a chance to strike against him first?” Riyun pointed at the artifact. “Working with us?”
“I have no idea who you are or why I should trust you.”
“Tarlayn trusted us. She said we were being hunted by Meriscoya.”
“He hunts everyone. But he does have a love for your people.”
“Well, like I said, we want him dead, and we want to go home. We’re no threat to you. The man who tricked us
into coming here created this situation. He created Meriscoya.”
Quil’s head whipped around, and his eyes widened, but he bit his lip.
Riyun nodded; they would talk later. “This man wants us to kill the wizard, but I’m not sure I trust his motivations.”
“I see. Then you really do need someone with my skills.” The fat wizard sucked in a deep breath. “Give me the artifact, and I’ll consider your offer.”
“How about if we promise you the artifact if you’ll help us against our mutual enemy?”
Fassyl tugged on his beard. “I’ll think about it. Over dinner. Can I offer you tea and fish? I have a small garden as well, mostly for my little rabbit friends, but they leave me plenty to harvest, as you can see.” He patted his gut and chuckled.
“We would be honored to be your guests.” Riyun signaled the rest of the team to come down to the lake shore. “I’ll introduce you to my team, and you could tell us everything you know about the dread wizard and his dragons.”
The old man grinned. “Splendid! I assure you, you will be impressed.”
But Riyun already was impressed. He was also anxious to talk to Alush. What did the prophet have in mind? Why had he kept Fassyl a secret? Why hadn’t Tarlayn mentioned working with others before to hunt the mad wizard down?
It was hard to believe the old wizard was as good as he claimed to be, but at least he’d managed to hide from Meriscoya for some time.
Would that be enough? It would have to be.
47
They spent the night in the ruins, which proved surprisingly amenable. Riyun shared a room with Javika in the lower level of a large, sunken house near Fassyl’s place. Hirvok and Lonar were in a room down the hall, behind a heavy blanket. Symbra and Naru stayed in Fassyl’s house with Quil. The limestone structures provided protection from the elements, if not the greatest comfort. In the centuries since the city’s destruction, most remnants of human occupation had been wiped away. Wood smoke, fried fish, scented wax from the candles that lit the small room and the entry to the sunken house—those were all from their host.
Still, there was the whistling wind, and late in the night Riyun was roused from troubled sleep by the heavy patter of rain.
