by John Marco
It had taken Niharn’s feruka most of the morning to reach Amchan. The vessel skidded to a stop along its flat keel, resting in the mud of the riverbank. A dozen burly sailors waited on deck with long poles, ready to free the feruka from the mud once Lukien and Jahan had departed. The captain of the vessel, a long-trusted friend of Niharn, stood nearby, stone-faced, not rushing his passengers off his boat. He had said very little throughout the journey, staying close to Niharn and following the old Fencing Master’s orders. Niharn did his best to keep his friend informed, but it was a secret mission after all, and Lukien trusted that Niharn had mostly kept his mouth shut.
A sprinkle of rain touched Lukien’s nose. He studied the sky and the gathering clouds. He had not counted on rain, but it made no difference. He only had a day before Lahkali would miss him, perhaps two, but soon after that she would wonder why he and Jahan had left the palace. He had not spoken much to Lahkali since training her in the woods near the palace, and because she still resented him she had not sought him out, preferring to be by herself while she sorted out her troubles. Lukien thought about Lahkali as he gazed out over Amchan, and suddenly he was melancholy again. She had worked so hard to please him.
But realities were hard, and so were the challenges she faced. Like it or not, she was the Red Eminence, and that meant killing the Great Rass. Now, the time had come for her teacher to learn how – if possible – such a thing could be done.
Next to Lukien, Jahan stood silently watching the forbidding forest, his tail of hair swaying gently to the lapping waves. He had come willingly on the journey because Lukien had requested it, and because he knew far more about rass than Lukien could ever hope to know. Like Lukien, Jahan had come prepared for the trek, carrying a long, curved sword called a culther to cut through the vines and tree limbs. The blade dangled from Jahan’s belt, naked, while over his shoulder was slung a pack of food and supplies. His face was stoic while he awaited Lukien’s orders.
Around Lukien’s neck, the Eye of God gave its quiet assurance. Lukien fingered the amulet, wondering if at last its power might be challenged. He had been at the door of death before, but the amulet and its mighty spirit had snatched him back to life. In a way, he hated Amaraz for that.
‘Give us a day,’ said Lukien finally, speaking softly to Niharn. ‘If we are not back by the morning, leave without us.’
‘If you’re not back by the morning, you’ll be dead,’ said Niharn without a trace of humour. The old master took measure of Lukien. ‘And if that happens, I will explain to the Eminence what has become of you.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Lukien. He smiled faintly. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done for me, Niharn.’
Niharn shrugged. ‘I have helped to kill you. That is all.’
‘Then I’ll be out of your way at last,’ Lukien joked.
‘Yes.’
An unspoken understanding passed between them. Despite their differences, Niharn was an honest man, so loyal to Lahkali that he had risked his reputation to bring Lukien to Amchan. It would not go easily for him when he returned to Torlis but it was necessary, and Niharn seemed to understand that now.
‘How will you find a rass to slay, Lukien?’
Lukien gestured toward Jahan. ‘Him.’
Jahan nodded. ‘I will find a rass, do not worry.’
He spoke with such confidence that Niharn asked no more of him. Instead he reached out for the katath Lukien held in his hand, pinging the blade with his fingernail. The weapon was one of Niharn’s own, given to Lukien by the fencing master.
‘Take care of her and she won’t fail you,’ said Niharn. Then he added with a grin, ‘You should have let me give you some lessons.’
Lukien laughed to break the tension. He turned to Jahan. ‘Ready?’
‘I have been ready.’
Lukien turned to Niharn and said good-bye, then watched as the captain’s men dropped a gang plank from the deck into the muddy bank. The long wooden walkway hit the earth with an unpleasant sound. Anxious to leave the feruka, Jahan was the first down the plank, bouncing across the ungainly strip with all his gear unbalancing him. He moved like a cat, though, and jumped down into the mud with a smile on his face. Lukien followed with equal success, using the long katath to balance himself. When both men were safely ashore, Lukien turned one more time to Niharn and the sailors.
‘We will see you by morning!’ he called to them confidently.
Then, with katath in hand, he trudged up the river bank toward the waiting unknown of Amchan. The wall of trees and rocky hills cast its dark shadow at his feet. Behind him, the noise of the river disappeared amidst the insistent chirping of birds and cries of hidden wildlife. Jahan took a deep breath, smiling at the sweetness of the air. Amchan was very unlike his village, yet he seemed at home. He spared no look for the men aboard the feruka, quickly stepping toward the trees.
‘This way, Lukien.’
Unsure where he was going, Lukien let Jahan guide him, and soon the two were engulfed in the trees, leaving behind the river and the safety of the barge. Jahan had his culther up at once, using its sharp edge to whack away the vines that hung thickly from the gnarled trees. A heavy wetness hung in the air, clinging instantly to their clothes and forming streams of perspiration on Lukien’s forehead. The stinging water blinded him as he followed Jahan through the forest, using the katath like a walking stick. The ground beneath him gave way easily, a soft, loamy soil that soundlessly absorbed his movements. Staring up into the knitted canopy of leaves, he saw a family of hairy, monkey-like creatures leap from limb to limb. As they moved a shower of raindrops fell from the trees.
‘Jahan?’ he asked softly. ‘What are we looking for?’
Jahan slowed a little, letting Lukien catch up. He looked back the way they had come with a look of satisfaction. ‘We can’t see or hear the others. Good.’
‘Good?’
‘Yes, Lukien. We need to get far from them if we are to find a rass. They will not come so close to so many people.’
‘Oh, I forgot,’ Lukien drawled. ‘They’re shy.’
‘You laugh? They have enough sense to be afraid of people. And they can smell very far with their tongues. When we get near them, we must make sure to stay downwind of them.’
‘How will we know when we’re close?’
‘I will know,’ said Jahan. ‘But first we must find the river again.’
‘The river? Jahan, we just left it.’
‘No, Lukien we must be well away from the others. I saw from the boat how the river bends. That’s where we will go. At night the rass will come to the river. There will be marks in the mud where they have been.’
Lukien nodded, understanding. ‘So if we find the marks we’ll find the rass.’
‘Just so. But first we need to find a place in the river far enough away from the boat so that the rass can’t smell it.’
‘How far is that?’
Jahan grinned. ‘We have all day, do we not?’
Just before dusk, Jahan found that special place by the river.
It had taken all of the day to reach it, a sandy beach where the forest receded and water birds came to stand in the stream and peck at fish with their long beaks. A ridge of hills stood in the distance, blocking the falling sun. Near the trees, long openings had been flattened among the tall grasses, a sign to Jahan that something big had passed this way before, many times. Lukien, exhausted from the day in the forest, rested at the edge of the beach as he watched the sun go down. They had reached the serene place hours ago, taking a meal and napping while they waited for night to arrive. Confident that this was a place of rass, Jahan had shown their tracks to Lukien, a collection of fat grooves carved into the soft earth by the giant bodies of the serpents. The sight of the tracks had given Lukien a chill.
As the darkness came, he and Jahan had spoken less and less, and their voices dimmed to whispers. Jahan ignored the sunset, staring instead in the other direction, toward the tree line and the glistening beac
h. His eyes shone with excitement. An expectant smile stretched across his lips. He had been an expert guide and Lukien was glad to have him, yet he could hardly understand his enthusiasm. His love for the serpents was uncanny.
‘I’m going to have to kill it, you know,’ Lukien whispered.
Broken from his spell, Jahan’s smile disappeared. ‘Yes.’
They were downwind of the beach, just as Jahan had planned. Hours ago they had buried their food and washed themselves in the river. It was hard for Lukien to imagine a rass being afraid of anything, but he had done everything that Jahan had asked of him. Keeping behind the rocks, Jahan raised his head a little to peer out toward the tree line.
‘Soon.’
‘It was darker than this when we saw them in your village,’ Lukien pointed out.
‘They will come,’ said Jahan.
Lukien grimaced. ‘How big do you think?’
‘Oh, big,’ Jahan assured him. He turned and looked at his companion. ‘That’s what you wanted, Lukien. That’s what you said.’
‘Yes. Still . . .’
‘You are afraid.’
‘I’d be stupid not to be.’
Jahan thought for a moment. ‘Your idea is good,’ he pronounced. ‘I have been thinking about it. There is no way for Lahkali to kill the Great Rass if she does not know how. So you will learn how, and then teach her. Yes, it is a good idea.’
Lukien wondered about that now. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘No,’ Jahan sighed. ‘It is a shame, but it is for Lahkali. It is for the good of her village.’
Lukien smiled at his quaintness. ‘I have done my best for her, you know. You think I am hard on her, but—’
‘You are hard on her, Lukien. But I understand.’ Jahan spied the beach again. ‘She cares for you.’
‘Does she?’
‘It is plain to see, Lukien.’
‘Yes,’ said Lukien, nodding. ‘She has done everything I’ve asked. I can’t fail her.’
‘And that’s why you’re here?’
The question surprised Lukien. ‘Of course.’
‘The only reason?’
‘Jahan, I don’t take your meaning.’
Jahan did not turn his attention from the tree line. ‘No more talk. Watch now.’
Lukien stiffened. ‘You see something?’
‘It is the rass that we don’t see that I am afraid of, Lukien. Keep your eyes open for me.’
They both became still as the night settled over the beach. Darkness crept over the sand as the waves curled back. Lukien began readying himself. They would come to the water; Jahan had assured him of that. After that? Lukien considered his strategy. It would be best to confront the beast on the openness of the sand, he decided. His fingers tightened around his katath.
An hour passed and the moon appeared, bathing the sand in its silvery light. Overhead, the sky cleared of rain clouds, popping with stars. The buzzing of the insects intensified. Lukien felt sweat gathering on his chest. He scratched at it, pushing aside the Eye of God as he did so. The warmth of the amulet touched his fingers. Inside, he felt the ever-present Amaraz, mutely waiting with him for the rass to arrive.
Will you keep me safe?
Lukien’s question went unanswered, and for a moment he wondered if he really wanted to be kept safe at all. Niharn’s words to him came back suddenly, like an unpleasant itch. He hadn’t found the Sword of Angels yet, or even any clue to it. And he had promised Cassandra he would see her again. He looked at Jahan, at last realizing what his friend had meant.
‘What?’ asked Jahan, feeling Lukien’s eyes on him.
‘I’m not here to die, Jahan.’
A long silence ensued. Jahan sighed. ‘As you say.’
Lukien was about to speak again, but Jahan quickly held up his hand. The village man leaned forward, peering through the darkness. Excitement tensed his body.
‘Lukien, look . . .’
Lukien looked but saw nothing. ‘Where?’
‘There, all the way down the beach.’ Jahan pointed. ‘By the fallen trees. Do you see?’
The trees had collapsed and rotted into the sand. Lukien had seen them earlier, when they’d first arrived. He focused on them now, struggling to see. A movement caught his eye, a slow undulating of flesh. Colourful hides caught the moonlight. Then, a single great hood emerged, raising up from the dead trees as the rass wound toward the river.
‘Fate almighty,’ Lukien gasped. ‘Look at the size of it.’
Jahan’s face was all beaming glee. He raised his head for a better look, almost completely coming out of his hiding place. ‘He’s far away. He won’t smell us from here.’
Following his lead, Lukien emerged out of the rocks, clutching his katath and wetting his lips with his tongue. The rass moved silently, oblivious to them, its stout body pushing aside the sand. Its giant head came up, reflecting the moonlight in its glassy eyes. The tongue flicked out to taste the moist air. The coiled designs along its hood glistened blood-red against its greenish hide. And just as it lowered its head, another appeared. Lukien held his breath. Jahan let out a sound of exaltation.
‘Beautiful . . .’
To Lukien, the rass were monstrous. He froze, not with fear but with revulsion, awed as the big rass led its cousin to the river.
‘Two of them,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t fight two.’
Jahan lifted himself out of the hiding place. Like a little boy chasing butterflies he inched along the sand. Lukien followed without knowing why, but then reached out to slow Jahan’s approach.
‘Wait,’ he snapped. ‘Not too close.’
‘They want water, Lukien, not us. Probably a male and female. Mates.’
‘Oh, gods, I don’t need to see that.’
The larger rass – the male – reached the river first, surveying the bank in protection of its female, whose colourful body was only slightly smaller but speckled with spots of black and yellow. The enormous serpents at last settled to drink, slipping into the river and almost disappearing in the mud. Doubts overtook Lukien as he watched them. There was no way he could take on two of them, even with the amulet to keep him alive. And they were mates . . .
‘Jahan,’ he whispered. ‘Wait.’
But Jahan still moved toward them, tip-toeing quietly along the sand. Infatuated by the creatures, he paid no heed to Lukien’s cautions, finally coming to a stop ten feet away. He turned with a smile to urge Lukien out.
‘It’s safe, Lukien,’ he assured with a wave. ‘Come.’
Shadows danced along the beach, blackening the sand. Lukien’s one eye barely saw the darkness gathering to Jahan’s side. At first he thought it merely one more tree, rising up unnaturally from the others. Lukien turned casually toward it and saw its spreading hood. He gaped, staring at it, confused even as the maw opened and the sabre-like fangs filled its reptilian face. It’s eyes seized on Jahan.
‘Lukien?’ Jahan was smiling. ‘Come with me.’
Time snapped forward. Jahan was speaking as the fangs appeared. Lukien opened his mouth to shout a warning as the rass came down, striking Jahan like a hammer with its enormous head and sending him sprawling. Lukien screamed, jumping toward him, but the rass had seen him now, using its tail to whip him back. The blow blackened Lukien’s vision. He was falling, spinning backward, dropping the katath and scrambling for footing. He looked up from the sand and saw Jahan’s frozen body, paralyzed by the poisonous strike. Dazed, Lukien staggered to his feet, ready to rush the snake. The rass ignored him, and with inhuman speed took Jahan in its mouth and slithered back into the trees.
‘No!’
Lukien sped after it, dodging tree limbs as he fought to follow the racing rass. Already he had lost it. It simply disappeared, swallowed by the darkness. Lukien kept on, screaming as he bumbled past the branches, his face struck by the sharp limbs. Moonlight sifted through the canopy, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of the beast, but it was only a vine swinging in the wind. He looked arou
nd desperately, unsure which way to go. Suddenly everything looked like a serpent.
‘Jahan!’
His cry tore through the forest, unanswered.
Sick with grief, Lukien dropped slowly to his knees. Jahan was gone.
34
True to his promise, Master Niharn waited the day for Lukien and Jahan to return. Aboard the feruka, he whiled away the time talking to his old friend, Thaget, the captain of the vessel and playing card games in the hot sun. When night fell, the two old comrades spent the evening drinking and swapping tales, and by morning they were ready to sail home.
But Lukien did not return that first morning. And Niharn continued to wait. Thaget set his sailors to the many tasks of the boat, and as they day wore on the sun baked the deck and turned the beach where they were moored the colour of burnt glass. Master Niharn spied the forest, hopeful that Lukien and the quiet villager would emerge at any moment.
But they did not.
Finally, as night fell on the second day, Niharn knew he had a decision to make. Rumblings among the sailors reached his ears, but Thaget kept them in line with his sharp tongue. Still, they were right to be concerned, and when at last Thaget came to Niharn the captain looked troubled. Niharn was still at the edge of the deck, leaning contemplatively over the shallow railing as he watched the forest for movement. Except for the lizards and crabs that crept along the bank, he saw nothing. Over his shoulder, he saw Thaget’s concerned face in the lamplight. The two hadn’t talked in hours, and now there seemed little to say. Niharn struggled against his own disbelief and the enormity of what he had done, bringing Lukien to Amchan.
‘He said he couldn’t die,’ the master whispered. He realized dreadfully how silly that sounded now. ‘I believed him.’
‘He has magic,’ said Thaget optimistically. ‘We’ve all heard of it.’
‘He could not be this late. Something has happened.’
Thaget didn’t argue, because the facts were so plain. Instead the feruka captain waited for his friend’s orders.
