by Jake Halpern
Resuza stretched out her arm and playfully tousled Alfonso's head. "Even if they didn't sleep, they'd still need to rest. Anyway, look above you. This is Dormian for sure."
Alfonso stared at the bottom of the bunk above him. It was covered with intricate pictographs. The pictographs showed people with their eyes half-closed flying gliders down a fault. The illustrations were done in beautiful gold leaf and a light blue ink that glowed like pale moonlight.
A gurgling noise came from the water entrance. Hill appeared and then, within the next few minutes, Bilblox, Misty, and Clink all came through the porthole in a hubbub of excitement.
"As nice as this lodge is," said Hill, "I'm afraid it's bad news."
"How do ya figure?" asked Bilblox.
"There's only one reason the Jasberians would've constructed such an elaborate lodge with an underwater entrance," said Hill. "They must have used it to protect themselves from the zwodszay, which means there could be more zwodszay lurking about."
"He's right," said Misty. "The zwodszay hate water. That must be the purpose of this here strange domed abode. We're safe fer now. But them beasts is probably lurking about somewhere not too far away."
No one said anything else. They quickly unpacked and tried to get some rest. Hill stretched out his legs. Alfonso heated up some slabs of salted pork, an activity that drew Kõrgu's rapt attention. Resuza boiled water for tea. While in the relative safety of the lodge, Misty and Clink were busy calculating the amount of gold contained in the Jasber fault walls. "At least a hunnert tons!" Misty exclaimed. "We could buy every buildin' in Somnos fer that."
"Pshaw, that's nothing," said Clink with an excited giggle. "We couldn't spend all that gold in Somnos. We'd have to strike out into the world. Maybe we could go to Barsh-yin-Binder and buy that whole city. Hah! We could put gold dust in handkerchiefs and blow our nose with it! I'll found a university in my name and we'll both get honorary degrees!"
The two cousins continued to plan all the possible ways to spend their riches. The others just listened to their chatter as they ate their dinners. Toward the end of their meal, Kõrgu's ears pricked up. She growled and looked up through the skylight.
"What is it?" Resuza asked.
"She hears somethin'," Bilblox said. "And I heard somethin' too, like a very quiet flappin' noise."
"What kinda flappin' noise?" Misty asked. She looked excited. "Like wings?"
"Sorta," replied Bilblox. "It sounded like—like dried leather flappin' in the wind."
"Hoo boy," replied Misty. "I was wonderin' if we'd see any of them creatures. Bilblox, ya may have heard the magmon flyin' nearby. They usually stick close to the lava, but they're curious types, I reckon."
"What are you talkin' about?" asked Bilblox. "Magmons? Is this more miner lore?"
"Ah, don't ya worry," replied Misty. "They're like kittens compared to the zwodszay. These are flyin' reptiles that love the heat. They're purty big but gentle. Or so I've been tol'."
"Are you serious?" inquired Hill.
"'Course I'm serious," replied Misty. "Here—I'll draw ya a picture." She pulled out a sketchbook, nodded off to sleep, and began to draw. Ten minutes later, she woke up and revealed her drawing.
"As ya can see fer yerselves," said Misty, "they're purty big. Them little birds is seagulls, so that should give ya some sense-a scale."
Now Alfonso's curiosity was truly piqued. The flying creatures that Misty drew were identical to those depicted in the murals back at the Hub. The rectangular faces, the back-swept wings, the dorsal fins jutting out from the middle of their backs—it all matched.
"How do you know about them?" Alfonso asked.
"Ever' Dormian miner knows about 'em," Misty replied. She looked at Clink with a sly grin. "I guess they're another myth comin' t'life. Josephus knew about 'em. Don't rightly know how they live down there or how they feed. 'N' I only seen one once. They're the silent type. Only noise they ever make is that sound Bilblox jus' heard—kinda like dried leather flappin' in the wind."
Hill stared up at the hole in the ceiling and shivered. "Even if they're only curious, let's hope we can avoid them," he said. "Come on now, let's enjoy these beds."
Within an hour, they were all in the comfortable bunk beds that lined the solid gold hut. Hill had brought a pair of torn trousers with him, and he was snoring gently as his sleeping-self expertly repaired the tears. Misty's sleeping-self was muttering to herself while Clink's was apparently in the throes of an epic fantasy in which he was conducting an entire orchestra. Meanwhile, Resuza, Bilblox, and Kõrgu lay motionless in their beds.
Only Alfonso was still awake. He stared at the underside of the bunk bed above him and at the luminescent pictograph of the gliders etched into it, and as he did, the pictograph came alive. The pilots of these gliders swooped and plunged in complete mastery of the countervailing wind currents. Alfonso soon realized that what he was seeing was an optical illusion. The pictograph functioned like a holograph that simply created the illusion of depth and motion.
Alfonso eventually closed his eyes, but just as he was drifting off to sleep, he happened to glance up through the skylight and saw an enormous head covered in reddish scales staring down at him. Alfonso let out an involuntary gasp.
"Just lie still, lad," said a voice through the darkness. Then came a cackle. It was Misty. "Yer starin' at a magmon. Now ain't that an incredible sight?"
CHAPTER 34
THE TABLES HAVE TURNED
FARTHER DOWN THE JASBER FAULT, perhaps a day's journey by glider, another stone ledge jutted out from one of the fault's gold-streaked walls. This ledge lay directly below a series of stalactites that hung down from a giant bulging rock. Similar to the station where Alfonso and the others currently were staying, this place also had a runway for gliders. Near the wall, water trickled out of a dark cave, and a few cattail-like plants grew there in the mud. In the middle of the ledge sat a dilapidated, rectangular building that was surrounded by several dozen gnarling, shrieking zwodszay.
The building was only a single, dingy room, illuminated by a sputtering candle. It was occupied by two men and a woman. These three people sat on the floor, breathing heavily and stealing glances at the room's lone door, which was rapidly giving way.
Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud!
This was the sound of bodies—the bodies of hungry zwodszay—pounding on the other side of the door with maddened vigor. The door was not going to last much longer. Its rusty hinges were starting to buckle under the pressure. The three people in the room—Josephus, Nathalia Treeknot, and Kiril—exchanged glances but said nothing.
Josephus and Nathalia were utterly exhausted. The historian's face was pale and coated with sweat. His fingers trembled and it appeared as if he had aged at least a decade in the past week. It took Nathalia great effort to rise to her feet and draw her sword in preparation for combat. Kiril, who wore shackles around his wrists and ankles, appeared to be in moderately good condition. And, oddly enough, he didn't seem concerned with the dire situation.
"The zwodszay are going to break down that door any minute," said Josephus weakly. "It's hopeless—this is the end. We have no more soldiers left to defend us. The zwodszay have slowly cut us down. Th-they just never give up."
Nathalia looked at her uncle wearily, but said nothing to contradict him.
"There's an alternative," replied Kiril calmly. "You could unchain me. I can't fight in shackles, not very well anyhow, but if you unchain me I can help defend us. I'm rather good with a long sword..."
Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud!
Two rusted, decaying screws popped out of the door's top hinge.
Nathalia reached into her pocket and felt the set of keys that unlocked Kiril's shackles. Josephus eyed his niece sharply.
"You can't do it, Nathalia," said Josephus. "This man is our worst enemy. No matter the cost, we cannot let him go. I forbid you! Somnos forbids you!"
"I'm afraid it's too late for that now, Uncle," said Nathalia. "This is our
only chance to survive."
"Nathalia, we can fight these zwodszay off," added Kiril calmly. "The doorway is narrow. They can only come in two at a time. If you and I each wield our swords, we will cut them down as they enter."
Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud! Qt-Thud!
A slat of wood broke off the door and the gray tapered fingertips of a zwodszay entered wormlike through the hole in the door.
Nathalia took the keys out of her pocket.
"Don't you dare!" screeched Josephus. "A-All of Somnos will hold you responsible if Kiril escapes."
"I am at my wits' end with you, Uncle," snapped Nathalia. She stared furiously at the old historian. "I have lost every single one of my soldiers—the best and bravest Somnos had to offer. And for what? So we could find a city that may not even exist? What's more, I have serious doubts whether the Grand Vizier ever approved of this mission in the first place. I think you lied to me and my men so that—"
Wham!
The door exploded off its hinges and slammed to the ground. Without a moment of hesitation, Nathalia tossed the keys to Kiril and then slid a long sword across the floor for Kiril to use. Quickly, but with great precision, Kiril unlocked the shackles around his wrists and then around his ankles. Meanwhile, Nathalia ran to the door to attack the zwodszay.
The first two zwodszay to enter the room were relatively scrawny creatures with faces that were grotesquely deformed by strange, knobby growths that lined their foreheads. They lunged at Nathalia, but she parried them expertly and counterattacked. Seconds later, a massive zwodszay burst in through the door and charged Josephus. Josephus cowered helplessly and readied himself to die. Yet, just in the nick of time, Kiril leapt in front of the zwodszay and sank his sword deep into its chest. Kiril then dashed over to the door and took a position next to Nathalia. Together they cut down the zwodszay as they entered the room.
Nathalia was a very skilled fighter, perhaps better with a sword than anyone in the entire army of Somnos, yet when standing next to Kiril she seemed positively sluggish. Kiril's movements were so dazzlingly fast that, by comparison, Nathalia seemed old and sickly. Nonetheless, the two of them worked quite well together. They fought valiantly, using every last bit of their strength, and after several minutes of heated battle the few remaining zwodszay retreated, scurrying away from the glider station and into the darkness of the fault.
"My goodness, you've done it!" said Josephus exuberantly. He was still in the corner, but he had managed to struggle to his feet.
"Don't celebrate just yet," said Nathalia as she clutched her stomach. "I'm sure they'll regroup and come back eventually."
"What's the matter?" asked Josephus. "Have you been hurt? My dear, dear niece ... what has happened to you?"
"I'm fine," said Nathalia softly.
"Let me have a look..." began Kiril.
"Stay away!" ordered Nathalia. "I'll not have you near me. Just because we fought together doesn't mean I trust you."
"You may not trust me, my dear colonel," said Kiril, "but I'm afraid you need me."
"I suppose we won't be putting Kiril back in his shackles," said Josephus softly, almost to himself.
"That's correct," replied Kiril coldly. "That would clearly be against your best interest—and mine. Besides, you are no longer in a position to say what I must or mustn't do. Of course, if the good colonel wishes to challenge me, then so be it, but something tells me that she is smart enough to know the limits of her powers."
Nathalia glowered, but made no reply.
"As I thought," said Kiril. "Well, let's have a bit of rest and a bit of food perhaps, and then be on our way."
"Where are we going?" asked Josephus.
"That no longer concerns you," replied Kiril, with the briefest of smiles.
Within a short while, Kiril had built a crackling fire in the room's stone hearth. For firewood, Kiril used the remains of an old table and chairs that had fallen apart and lay in many broken pieces in the corner. The wood was extremely dry and it lit easily. Once the fire had burned down a bit, Kiril used the coals to warm up a few slabs of salted beef. Josephus took out their remaining provisions—which included a flask of wine, a loaf of dried bread, a bit of cheese, and some potatoes—and spread them out on his sleeping mat. Nathalia, who appeared both exhausted and haggard, lay nearby and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Would you care for some food?" asked Kiril in a friendly, almost lighthearted manner.
"A bit of meat would be nice," said Josephus as he took some of the salted beef.
"I hope you enjoy your meal," said Nathalia weakly. She clutched her stomach and winced before continuing. "It's bound to be your last," she gasped. "I can't imagine that Kiril intends to drag an old man and a wounded Dormian officer out of these tunnels with him."
"That would be a bit cumbersome, wouldn't it?" replied Kiril.
"Indeed," said Josephus grimly, as he began to chew on his salted beef. "Tell me, if I am not to live to see it, what is to be done with the remaining items on the list? The khopesh, the hooded robe, the four pounds of Uralian nightshade, and the herbs—arrowroot, goldenseal, and Dormian milk thistle. What plans do you have for them? They will be used to enter Jasber?"
"You are a most curious fellow," replied Kiril with a cluck of his tongue. "And the fact that your insatiable curiosity has led you to your demise seems to have no effect on you whatsoever."
"Everything on that list has a very specific purpose. I realize that," said Josephus. As he said this, Josephus eyed a large leather rucksack containing all the items on the list. The rucksack sat on the floor in a far corner of the room. Through much of the journey Josephus had carried the sack but, alas, the tables had turned and now it was in Kiril's control. "What frightens me," continued Josephus, "is that there are so many remaining items on the list which we have not used. You don't seriously plan to destroy Jasber, do you? After all, it is your birthplace!"
"My plans have been thought out much further than yours," said Kiril with a smile. "That's all that matters."
***
Perhaps the single most important lesson that Kiril had learned in his six hundred years of life was that survival depended entirely on carefully planning for the future. Nartam had said this innumerable times. "If we are to live forever, then we must think centuries and even millennia into the future," Nartam had told him, soon after his army had sacked the city of Noctos. At the time, Nartam was leading a march back to the city of Dargora with his plunder. Kiril, still a boy, rode on Nartam's horse with him. They were at the head of a massive procession that included hundreds of carts filled with gold, slaves, and, most important, purple ash from the Founding Tree of Noctos, which had been burned to the ground. This plunder would lead to centuries of Dragoonya ascendancy.
"The ash that we have recovered from Noctos will last us four hundred years," explained Nartam matter-of-factly. "Perhaps it will last five hundred years if we are careful. But we mustn't be complacent. We need another source of ash. The time will go by more quickly than you think. It always does."
"What will we do, Däros?" asked the young Kiril.
"We need a source of ash that will not run out," replied Nartam. "There was such a source once, many centuries ago. It came from a magnificent tree. A shadow tree. If we had it again, Europe and Asia would be ours. Think of the destiny we could forge for ourselves!" His white eyes shone and his entire body tensed.
"The source is gone?" asked Kiril.
"For now," replied Nartam cryptically. "But someday we will grow it again."
In the centuries since then, Kiril, son of Jasberian nobility and orphan of Noctos, became Nartam's most trusted son. For the Dragoonya, one's rank depended entirely on Nartam's favor. In general, Nartam preferred former Dormians above all others. They made up a small portion of Dragoonya society—the top 1 percent. Nartam called these people his family and they alone were given the purple ash. His "family" comprised his old comrades from Dragoo, the orphans from Noctos, and child refugees who were
captured and converted after the sacking of other Dormian cities. Within this group, everyone vied for Nartam's trust and affection. This was especially true, in more recent centuries, as the supply of purple ash began to dwindle and attempts to procure more ash failed. By the late 1800s, Nartam's supply was dangerously low and he began to panic. "We don't have enough for everyone," Nartam told Kiril. "It's time to start reducing the size of the family."
It was Kiril's job to tell those members of the family that they were officially cut off—that they would no longer be receiving any ash—and that their immortality was over. The time had finally come for them to die. A few took this news passively. They skulked off into the darkness, grew sick, and died. Others became enraged, even violent. Kiril killed them. This was his job. And no one was his equal with a sword.
That was well over a hundred years ago. Now the ash was completely gone, and there were few of the elite Dragoonya left. There was no margin for error. Kiril could make no more missteps. He had failed to follow Leif to Jasber. He had tracked Alfonso all the way to Somnos, but failed to destroy the city. There was only one hope to fulfill, at last, Nartam's fondest dream. It all came down to the shadow tree. Everything now depended on what Kiril did in the next few days. His plan was difficult, but it was working so far. Most importantly, he had to make sure he did not receive a serious cut, the kind that would really make him bleed.
***
"Kiril, I want to know something," said Nathalia through gritted teeth. She was sitting near him and appeared to be in considerable pain. "I am good with a sword, but you are the best I have ever seen. Then who..."
"You want to know who cut my face," said Kiril.
Nathalia nodded.
"Before they die, many of those who fall under my sword ask the same question," replied Kiril with a slight smile and a shake of his head. "I will tell you only this: I am going to visit the man responsible."
"To kill him?" asked Nathalia.
