“The ocean,” he said again. “You crossed it. How?”
She exhaled
And she explained:
How her family had been divided into many parts. Two aunts who watched over him in the cold, dead forests of the north. Several cousins who remained in the deserts of the far east—or west.
And then there had been her mother, grandmother, and sisters, who journeyed up the eastern coast of lands across the sea. Who had piloted a small wooden boat across a half-frozen channel in the dead of many nights. And who had spent months tracking him down across the continent, having survived bandits, bitter cold, and countless hungry days.
When she was done, he had only one question:
“You’ve seen the Pharaoh’s pyramid?”
She made a poor secret of her fear. The mention of the Pharaoh and his giant fortress in the sand sent shadows roiling in her eyes.
“Yes. Once.” She gazed across the river. “I was only a little girl. I remember the lines of people delivering tribute. The caravans packed with food. My mother told me pyramids were once made of stone. But with their destruction, the Pharaoh built his Pyramid, the world’s last, out of steel.”
“Steel, yes.” Galen nodded.
And blood.
He rose and backed away from the river. Its waters flowed swiftly, carving a straight line south through the flatlands. On its far side, he saw fields, endless yellow fields. The land here wasn’t as sickly as in the east.
Must’ve been nothing worth destroying.
Ordinarily, he’d have left Elia right where she knelt. He’d have walked away, and she’d have gathered her few things and scrambled to follow him. It amused him to watch her hurry. If she were so expert a tracker, he imagined, she should’ve been able to find him no matter how far behind he left her.
But today he gave her a grunt and a nod, signaling it was time to leave.
Grateful, she stood and walked beside him.
“North.” He pointed.
“Why north?” she asked as they marched alongside the water.
“Listen close. Hear that sound?”
She strained her ear to the wind and the water, but only looked confused.
“There’s a little waterfall north,” he explained. “I can hear it. The water…it’s flowing between the rocks. We can leap across the stones to cross the river. It’ll be easy.”
“I hear no waterfall,” she said.
“Listen harder.” He shrugged. “I hear everything.”
Soon, they came to it. The short waterfall and boulders were just where he’d predicted. Elia’s surprise made him smirk.
Always…her face…with the wonder.
“Let’s see how good a jumper you are,” he said.
He ran to the river’s shore and leapt atop the nearest boulder. Its surface was slick, worn smooth by a thousand years of water, but he stuck his landing. He glanced at Elia, shot her a grin, and crossed the rest of the river by leaping stone to stone. He never once faltered. Water, he figured, was easier to cross than sand.
On the far shore, he landed on a patch of yellow scrub. The grass felt softer, the reeds less brittle than on the eastern bank.
When he turned around, he saw Elia wading waist-deep in the river. She’d fallen between the first and second boulders, and her dark, braided hair dripped streamlets of water.
He wondered if he’d gone too far.
If he should’ve helped her.
If he should pity her.
Water’s pretty.
But it might still be poison.
Her little tumble could infect her…could kill her.
His accidental thoughts resurrected his smirk.
She’ll be fine.
And if she doesn’t die, the bath will make her smell better.
* * *
That night, Galen and Elia camped in an open field beneath the stars. They lit no fire out of fear of attracting attention, and while Galen needed no food, Elia snacked on foraged strawberries and spears of wild asparagus.
The clouds had cleared away, and the day’s warmth had fled.
Elia, for all her toughness, hunched in the grass clutching her knees and shivering.
Galen couldn’t help but think of her. She hadn’t complained about her fall in the river. In fact, she never complained. Hour by hour, day by day, he admitted to himself his respect was growing for her. She was adept at finding her own food. She didn’t pester him with questions, never mind that he had yet to reveal where he was going.
In a rare moment of sympathy, he tugged his cloak loose, hunkered in the grass beside her, and slung the dark thing over her shoulders. She looked to him, eyes wider than ever, lashes of damp hair still dangling across her cheek.
“I’ve never seen you without your cloak.” She clutched the heavy fabric close. “Didn’t know you wore armor.”
She was right, he supposed. In all his years, he’d always had a cloak. A black one, usually. He wore it at all times except for baths, which he always took in total darkness.
“Armor—you mean this.” He slid his palm across his undershirt. The scaly leather shirt was sewn with hidden metal plates, which flexed beneath his touch.
“Stole this from one of Nem’s knights.” He rapped his knuckles against his chest. “Nearly eighty years old. Stops arrows, maybe even a half-hearted sword stroke. Leather’s a bit smelly, but the metal…it’ll never rust. Far more flexible than what Nem wears.”
Starlight twinkled in Elia’s eyes. He hadn’t seen her smile before, but now, in the deep night, the most beautiful curve emerged on her lips.
She’s remembered something.
“My grandmother told me something about you.” Her clutches loosened on his cloak. “She said—and it would’ve been about eighty years ago—you ambushed the Nemesis’ men in their camp. She said it was a risky, stupid thing for you to do. But you killed them all, didn’t you? They didn’t have their ship, and you cut down a whole brigade. Is it true? Is that the night you got your armor?”
He touched his cloak, which still lay atop her shoulders.
“I didn’t cut them down,” he said with a grimace. “I cut their throats while they slept. It was easy. They weren’t looking for me—they were after Habiru who’d stolen machines from a metal graveyard.”
“Oh.” Elia’s smile faded.
“But yes,” he added, “this armored shirt is from that night. The cloak, too. One hell of a memory, this grandmother of yours.”
Shrouded in a dead man’s cloak, Elia looked decidedly less comfortable than moments ago.
A long silence reigned. Elia sipped from her canteen and watched the stars. Galen reclined in the weeds, glad for a change to be rid of his hood and cloak. After a time, he watched the sky the same as Elia, admiring the peacefulness of it all.
As he watched, many things occurred to him.
I won’t kill her.
She’s not here to kill me.
She has a reason for coming.
Why here? Why now?
“It’s no accident, this,” he said from his bed of weeds.
The night held most of Elia’s attention, the black sky streaked with the occasional falling star. His voice awoke her as if from a dream.
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“Let’s not play games.” He sat up on his elbows. “You’ve followed me for many years, but only now choose to face me. You know things you’re not saying. Don’t lie. Don’t bother. Just speak the truth.”
She shivered again, but not from the night’s chill. Her interest in the stars was lost.
“I know what you want.” Her voice was soft, yet serious. “Your mother didn’t just want us to help you survive. She wanted you to—”
“Find something,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And now you think I’m near to finding it.”
“Yes.”
He sat up and stared into the night. Absently, he touched the skin-port on the back of his neck.
/> It’s empty now, but—
“You asked me what I took from the tower,” he said. “You asked if the papers were for the doctor.”
“I did.” She let out a sharp breath. “Are you going to kill me now?”
“No. Not yet.
“Then…what?”
“You were right.” he couldn’t stop touching the skin-port.
“So it’s installed?” Her eyes got big again. “I couldn’t tell because…your cloak.”
She knows.
There’s more to this girl than meets the eye.
“So…you already know where I’m going,” he said.
“Well…no. Not exactly.”
“That’s good.” His tone made her shiver. “For your health, I mean. Because someday the Nemesis will capture you, and it’ll hurt less if you don’t have answers to the questions he’ll ask.”
“You really think he’ll get me?” She looked worried.
“Inevitably,” he said.
Elia looked afraid. Genuinely so. Unless he’d misread her face and all the tiny expressions in her great big eyes, her emotions were real.
She’s not acting.
She’s told the truth about everything.
Well…mostly.
“If I can help you find it, then I’ll have done my family proud,” she said without looking at him. “I’ll have fulfilled my oath.”
“Find what, exactly?” He stared so hard at her he thought she might shatter.
“The Blue Vial.” She exhaled.
That’s right.
The Blue Vial.
This girl’s in deep.
She might be able to help me.
8
Black thickets speared out of the sand as if to wage war against the stars.
In a dead forest, weeks removed from the river in the east, Galen and Elia hunkered. The trees’ ancient bark gleamed in the moonlight, their branches like obsidian glass. They were legion, the dead trees. Leafless and cold, they marched across the plain in numbers beyond reckoning.
At midnight, deep in the forest’s shadow, Galen looked back to Elia. Her eyes caught the moonlight, looking bigger than they ever had.
“Don’t touch anything,” he whispered. “The trees…they might stand for a million years. Or they might shatter. And then we’re dead.”
Elia nodded. In silence, she’d marched behind him through the glassed-over forest for nearly two hours. Now, at the forest’s edge, they peered out across the open sands.
“The fallout was heavy here,” Galen said to her. “The sand is sharp. Be thankful the wind’s not blowing.”
She tugged her hood lower, hiding the tops of her eyes.
“See that city?” He pointed to a place beyond the forest, where mountains stood like titans and a ruined city lay in the shadows beneath. “See there, in the moonlight beneath the mountains? There’s a valley hidden beyond the city. The people who lived here blasted a highway right through the rocks. That’s our road. It’s the fastest way to reach the west.”
Elia looked on, saying nothing.
“Now, about your bi-nocles.” He faced her.
In the moonlight, her face was ghostly white. “But…I thought you said—”
“The Pharaoh’s eyes…they can’t see me.” He cut her off. “I’ve known for a long time. Anyone else who flashes a machine under the sky, they catch and kill. But me—I’ve had swords, tools, everything. One time I even stole one of their weapons—one of the powerful ones, I mean. And still, no one found me.”
“Why didn’t you keep it?” she asked. “Why not use it against them?”
“The bi-nocles.” He held out his open palm. “Now.”
She glanced skyward, and he swore he saw her mouth a silent prayer. But then she reached into one of her belt pouches and produced a tiny machine.
Small black body.
Two glass lenses.
Galen hadn’t seen one like it in centuries.
He plucked the bi-nocles from her palm and unfolded it. Facing the open sand and faraway city, he held the bi-nocles up to his eyes.
“What do you see?” Elia whispered.
A dark smile broke across his lips.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” he said. “Twice before, actually, I used these mountains to hide from the Habiru. The bandits...they’re all over this place. There’s still wild game up the hills, and they say the underwater springs are fresher than fallout water.”
He glanced back to her. He saw only her eyes and the crescent of her moonlit mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t expect you to remember back so far. Your grandmother’s grandmother wasn’t alive when last I came here.”
He faced the city again. “Here, take the bi-nocles. Have a look.”
She scooted closer to him, and he pressed the tiny device into her hand. Raising the bi-nocles, she stared through them across the plain. The moonlight splashed on the black silicate dust, and the resulting ghostly glow haunted the dead earth between forest and city.
“Look at the towers,” he instructed. “This place used to be a Habiru stronghold. The Nemesis…he let them stay because he knew they’d impede me.
“But now…something’s changed.”
Elia stared intently, saying nothing.
“The city’s towers.” He steadied her shoulders with his hands. “See them? See the holes in the towers’ sides? They’re perfect, aren’t they? Like someone took the time to carve circles into the steel. See the wall? Yes, that one. See the strange shapes burned through them? The edges are black, can you see?”
She lowered the bi-nocles.
“Scimitars…they used Scimitar discs.” She breathed. “The Nemesis is here.”
Before that moment, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been proud of anyone in his life.
Good girl, he wanted to say.
Useful girl.
“His ship isn’t here.” He took the bi-nocles away. “Might be hidden in the mountains. Might’ve lowered it into the forest far from here. Or…might be he’s left a garrison behind to ambush us. Doesn’t matter. Somewhere in those towers, soldiers are waiting to kill us.”
“How do you know the Habiru didn’t win?” she asked. “What if they overwhelmed the Nemesis’ men?”
He let out a soft snort. It wasn’t a pretty sound, and he promised himself never to do it again.
“With one Scimitar, a blind, naked deaf-mute could turn a thousand men to ashes.” He shook his head. “The Pharaoh’s discs—they don’t run out of power. They don’t misfire. Even a child could use them. Twenty knights, trained and motivated, could clean out any city in the world in a few hours.”
“So…the Habiru—”
“Are dead.” He stuffed the bi-nocles into his own belt pouch. “And we’re moving south. There’s nothing for us here.”
* * *
It had been nearly five weeks since Elia had joined him.
And every day Galen asked himself why he allowed it.
She slowed him down.
She needed ten times more food and water, and many more hours of sleep.
When he thought about it, when he sat beneath the stars and watched her sleep, he wondered how far ahead he’d have traveled without her tagging along.
Even if her oath is real…
Even if she’s a pleasant distraction…
What am I doing with her?
For all his brooding, he reached no real conclusion. After five centuries of being alone, and after crawling out of hiding to put his many plans into motion, he had no reason to risk failure.
Not for a stranger.
Not for a woman.
Not for anyone.
And yet…
He couldn’t place the feeling in his gut. Perhaps his intuition had grown so sharp he sensed he might someday need the girl. Someday—for a reason he’d yet to fathom.
Or maybe, contrary to everything he wanted to believe, he simply liked her.
All this a
nd more, he thought upon as he marched with her. She strode along behind him, exhausted by his effortless pace, but every time he looked back to her, she said nothing.
No complaints.
No asking me to slow down.
Look at her. Glass sand in her boots. Feet torn to tatters. Belly aching for something other than berries and roots.
She’s not even wincing from the pain.
“We’re close,” he said to her. The hour was midday, and the sun blazed on the crowns of hills misshapen by the weapons of centuries ago. To the right, vast mountains stood dark against the sickly blue sky. To the left, glass foothills rolled away into forever.
“There’s another city?” Elia asked. “Are you sure?”
“There is.” He kept walking. “A few hundred years ago, I dug up a sign rusting in the sand not far from here. It was written in the old language—the pre-fallout language. Almost no one uses those words anymore.”
“And this sign said—?” she wondered aloud.
“Something-something Springs. Population: five-hundred thousand,” he said. “The sign said the quaint little metropolis was about seventy miles south of the glassed-over city we passed two nights ago. Which means we’re just about there.”
“You saw this sign…a few hundred years ago?” he heard Elia mutter.
He kept his smile secret.
The sun stayed high, and the shadows were few. Galen and Elia marched into the valleys of the rolling hills, in which nothing dared to grow. They kept to the gullies and ruts, sometimes plodding through sand, often splashing across pools of grey water.
Just as they rounded yet another tomblike hummock of dirt, rock, and glass, Galen halted.
“Stop,” he hissed.
Elia, at last looking tired, stopped ten steps behind him.
“Hear that?” he whispered. “Coming from the hill’s other side?”
Elia shook her head. Her dark braid had tumbled out of her hood, and her face looked sunburned. “You know I’m not like you,” she said. “I can’t hear anything but the wind.”
He knew what he’d heard.
He didn’t like it.
We’re still far from the city.
Shouldn’t be anyone out here.
And yet…
He couldn’t say why he did it. When he heard the arrow whistling in the hot air, he knew he should’ve run and never looked back.
Lords of the Black Sands Page 6
