Black Spice (Book 3)

by James R. Sanford

  Kyric slapped his hand across Mahai’s mouth, and they stood there holding their breath. All they heard were the long croaks of the tree frogs.

  They worked their way to the main trail and made better time once they started down it. After stumbling along for what seemed like hours, Caleem said, “I must rest.”

  Kyric was hurting too — Mahai weighed over twenty stone. They laid him down and drained their water skins. Kyric tried to give some to Mahai, but he only spat it out.

  “How close are we to Lurta?”

  “More than half the way,” Caleem said. “We should be out of the forest soon.”

  They sat still, catching their breath, then Kyric felt the weird suddenly come upon him. Death was coming down the trail, rushing headlong in its thirst to find them. It would be here in moments.

  “Quickly, into the brush,” he hissed, rolling Mahai off the trail. They lay in concealment for nearly a minute. Caleem raised his head to speak but Kyric cut him off with a wave. A rhythmic sound drifted down the trail, growing louder — booted men moving at the trot.

  Kyric saw them in the moonlight as they went past: two death guards with Baskillian war bows in their hands, and a Manutu hunter with a blowgun.

  “What shall we do now?” Caleem whispered.

  “We’ll use Aiyan’s trick for evading pursuers. We will follow them.”

  They hoisted Mahai to his feet and continued along the trail. He was almost sleepwalking now, Kyric and Caleem guiding him as much as holding him up. He mumbled something unintelligible every few steps.

  “Is there nothing we can do to keep him quiet?” Kyric said.

  Caleem reached into his spice pouch and slipped something into Mahai’s mouth. “I don’t know why, but the flavor of cloves seems to calm these Onakai.”

  Kyric shook his head. “Burns my tongue.”

  But Mahai stopped his raving, and before long they broke out of the forest and entered the village in the hills. Kyric felt too exposed on the road, so they skirted around the main cluster of houses, moving among the moon shadows as much as possible.

  Suddenly Mahai cried out, and his voice echoed off the hills. They froze.

  “Let’s keep going,” Kyric said quietly. “The way those death guards were running, they should be a mile ahead of us.”

  As they started forward, a figure came from behind one of the houses. Two more suddenly flanked them on either side.

  “Good Goddess,” said Ellec Lyzuga. “They did it. They got him out.”

  Lerica lowered her crossbow. Aiyan stepped into the moonlight.

  Kyric looked from one to another. “There were three men ahead of us . . . “

  “We took care of them,” said another voice, coming up behind them. It was Nakoa. He slipped under Mahai’s arm, relieving Kyric. “Here, let me take him.”

  They had killed the two death guards, but had captured the Manutu hunter. Ellec found a better cart, and made the man roll Mahai down to the beach at Lurta, where King Tonah’s fastest double-hull waited, along with a handful of Tialuccans and the outrigger that Caleem had sailed. Aiyan never said a word the whole way, he and Lerica lagging far behind as a rear guard.

  They piled into the double-hull, Kyric almost swooning with exhaustion as he climbed in and collapsed. Lerica propped him up.

  “I can’t believe that all of you came for me,” he said to her.

  She kissed him on the ear and then whispered into it. “You’ve been a bad boy.”

  “No,” he whispered back, “I’ve been good. But I will show you bad once I get you alone.”

  Ellec sat down and slapped him on the back. “This is incredible. You must tell us how you did it.”

  Kyric glanced at Aiyan then back to Ellec. He would have to tell them in the morning, but for tonight he’d had enough. “Maybe later if you don’t mind.”

  The two boats raced for home beneath the brilliant moon. The night was fair, the swells gentle, and Kyric had nearly drifted off to sleep when Mahai suddenly sat up with a gasp.

  “What’s happening?” he said, looking around in shock. “Where are we?” He blinked and focused on the faces around him, recognition coming into his eyes.

  “Easy,” Kyric said, going to him. “Easy. Your head is still full of black spice. But don’t worry, you’re safe now. You’re among friends.”

  CHAPTER 11: Full Moon

  “His army will be here the day after tomorrow,” Kyric said to King Tonah. It was an informal audience over coffee, just Caleem, Ilara, Aiyan and Kyric. The king had wanted to thank Kyric for rescuing Mahai. Unlike Aiyan, he seemed pleased that Kyric had risked his son’s life in a hair-brained excursion.

  “We have gathered the clans,” Tonah said, looking at Aiyan. “All who could be found have come. We can get no stronger.”

  Aiyan bowed deeply. “I had hoped that this battle could be avoided. I failed in my attempt to kill Soth Garo, but I will not fail in my promise. When his army is engaged, I will seek him in the field and slay him there.”

  Tonah sat silent for a moment. “I will hold a council of chiefs tomorrow. I shall assume command of all the clans and we will plan our defense. You may attend, Sir Aiyan. Prince Mahai has told me of your prowess in combat, and we are grateful that you would fight for us. But do not tell them that the battle will be short. Tell them that the battle will be long.”

  “Would it be possible to see Mahai for a moment?” Kyric said.

  Ilara made the feathered crest. “I have sung a powerful song of healing over him, and he must lie quiet for one day and one night. He cannot be disturbed. Tomorrow we shall see if he can rise and fight.”

  “His wounds must have been worse than I thought.”

  “It is not that,” she said. “I felt resistance to my song within him. He was given a great deal of black spice. I have given him sea spice to counteract it, but will have to wait.”

  Kyric had never been so happy to have the refuge of Lerica’s cabin. As soon as they had returned to Calico, Aiyan had insisted on hearing a brief account of what had happened. When Kyric told him about taking Soth Garo’s frozen blood, he became so still, and his eyes so hard, that Kyric thought it to be the calm before the storm. But all he said was, “We don’t do that.”

  The distance between them had widened. Aiyan’s distance from everyone had grown since they had all come back together, but with Kyric he was polite yet terse. The worst part was the way Aiyan looked at him when he bothered to look.

  “There is another matter,” Aiyan said to Tonah. “His demon skin, the nameless thing that killed Mahai’s father, we know that Soth Garo will send it for you on the night before he attacks.”

  Ilara began to speak, then stopped. Tonah nodded for her to go on.

  “I have the power to cast a line that even a nameless demon cannot cross,” she said. “I have spice for this.”

  Strangely, neither Ilara nor Tonah had offered much grief for the loss of Ubtarune. Lerica had said that when Ilara heard of his death, she only nodded as if she fully expected it.

  “King Tonah,” Aiyan said. “I have every confidence in the magic of the high priestess. But if you will, please allow me to stand guard outside your sleeping chamber that night, in case the enemy sends human assassins as well.”

  “Let us say rather,” Tonah replied, “that I invite you to sleep under my roof as my honored guest.”

  Aiyan wasn’t at dinner with Ellec and Lerica that night. Afterwards, Kyric found him in their cabin, packing up his gear.

  “I’m going to accept the king’s invitation starting tonight,” Aiyan said. “I’ll sleep there until this is over.”

  Kyric stepped in and closed the door. “Why don’t you go ahead and say whatever it is that you’re not saying.”

  Aiyan tucked his helmet under his arm. “You should start wearing your armor at all times. There’s always some sort of ruckus before the real battle starts.”

  “I meant about me sneaking off to Mantua.”

  “Why d
on’t you tell me.”

  “Alright,” Kyric said. “I know that you’re angry because I went against your word, but I knew it would work. I knew that his blood would do nothing to me. Sure, it was risky to take Caleem, but he was willing, and I needed him along — that’s how I knew I could take Soth Garo’s blood. If Caleem could stand before him, and he not know his spell had been broken, then how would he sense anything about me?”

  Aiyan glanced up from his duffle. “You have no idea how foolish that was. These men of the dragon’s blood often have extraordinary powers. It’s said that Keldring can draw your intentions from you like water from a well. Andemin can look you in the eye and see your deepest fear. But that’s isn’t the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  “Listen to yourself. You sound like a kid explaining his latest caper. You’re supposed to be walking a path. A true warrior does what he must do, but he does not do it behind the back of his master. If it would have weakened your spirit to leave Mahai to his fate, and if you knew this as truth, you should have been man enough to tell me so, and that you were going through with it whether or not I came with you. Try to show as much courage with me as Lerica does with her uncle.”

  Aiyan turned away from his packing, standing up straight. “Perhaps I should have explained this. I have never given you a command, and you are not bound to obey me in any case. No man who follows the Way of the Flame commands another, nor is he commanded, even by the masters of Esaiya.”

  Kyric cleared his throat. “There are times when you appear to give orders.”

  “Those are only strong suggestions.”

  A thought struck Kyric. “If the masters don’t issue commands, what do they do? Doesn’t your fight against Cauldin and his men require organization and discipline?”

  “On a personal level, yes. But the masters only do what I have done with you. They give advice and make suggestions. They show us the Way. They know more than the rest of us all together, so we tend to listen to them. Actually, coming to the Spice Islands was my own idea, but they thought it was a good one.”

  Kyric was quiet for a minute and Aiyan went back to packing. “I can see now,” Kyric said, “that I was weak and disrespectful. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He turned to go.

  “Kyric. What you did was magnificent. Sublime even. One for the scrolls, as they say. Remember that as well.”

  The council of chiefs was a surprisingly quiet affair, considering that every prince, chief, headman, priestess, sorcerer, and spice master in Tiah had gathered in Tonah’s receiving chamber. Each group of clan leaders huddled together and whispered as they burned the incense peculiar to their nation. The Bantuan had over a dozen chiefs and insisted that they had to bring at least three dogs or it would displease their clan spirit. Despite the early hour, the room was stuffy.

  Tonah first announced that Caleem would lead the spears of the Tialucca, and asked each clan who would command them in the field. Naran would lead the Bantuan, and a man named Ferrin was given command of the Silasese. When it came to the Manutu, they huddled again, a low hum coming from the group. At last the oldest chief raised his head.

  “All of the free Onakai warriors have respected our ways and fought well with our hunters. One has proven to be a clever war chief. We choose Prince Mahai of the Onakai to lead our combined warriors in battle.”

  The rest of the Manutu, chanted excitedly in low whoops, confirming the choice. Mahai accepted. Tonah approved. And then it was a matter of the four field leaders to debate possible strategies and tactics. King Tonah listened to them for over an hour, then raised the feathered crest.

  “It is done,” he said. “I have made my plan. The Manutu and the Silasese shall form a line beyond the streambed, and will hold the enemy there. The spears of the Tialucca and the Bantuan will be hiding in the Ko groves to the east. Once the enemy attacks, they will charge his exposed flank and sweep his army away.”

  Kyric noticed the slightest smugness from Aiyan, nothing more than a twinkle in his eye, really. He wondered if Aiyan and Tonah had concocted this ruse together. Because whatever the king was actually planning, he had just told a big fat lie about it.

  Kyric had wanted to speak with Mahai afterwards, but he and Caleem rushed off to spend most of the day choosing secondary leaders and organizing their commands. Tiah was impossibly crowded, having swollen to a town of ten thousand people, and now the tension rose even further. Rumor had it that the Tialucca had run out of grain, and scouts returned from the field with news that Soth Garo’s army was indeed on the march.

  By sunset, Ellec and Lerica had sequestered themselves for a night of Riankatta — what did they do, bite on a stick and try not to change? Lerica would never say. Kyric was pacing the deck aboard Calico, sweating in his cuira-boulli, when he spied a familiar figure. It appeared to be Mahai, sitting alone at the far end of the beach.

  As Kyric approached him, a gentle melody rose above the voice of the waves. Mahai was playing the mashan, a tall, fragile lute with only four strings. The neck looked like it would snap beneath Mahai’s huge hands, but he fingered the strings delicately, coaxing a sad song out of the instrument.

  “I didn’t know you could play,” Kyric said.

  “It’s been years,” Mahai said without pausing. “I wasn’t sure I could still do it. I don’t even have mine anymore. I borrowed this one from the queen’s cousin.”

  Kyric noticed that his forehead was still bruised. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t look very healed.”

  “I’ll be well enough to fight. Don’t worry about that. But a magic song can’t heal everything.”

  Mahai finished his tune then said, “I never told you how grateful I am that you got me out of Mantua. Caleem told me what you did.”

  “No thanks are necessary. You would have done it for me.”

  Mahai shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He smiled. He was joking of course.

  Kyric drew a circle in the sand. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but when I first met Caleem I thought the king had been right, that he was still the coward of his youth. There was something about his look I didn’t like.”

  “We know now what that was.”

  Kyric shook his head. “It was more than that. But when he knelt in front of Soth Garo and looked him in the eye . . . he was so afraid. That was as brave as anything I’ve seen.”

  “I believe I underestimated you as well. Caleem told me that even as he stood at the fountain, he would never have freed himself without your help.”

  “I simply challenged his beliefs.”

  “It’s lucky that Caleem was so confident that he thought he could prove his devotion by drinking — certainly it wasn’t simply water. What was it that flowed from the fountain?”

  “That which flows from a dream,” Kyric said quietly.

  Mahai played. The sun sank low and they sat facing it.

  “What do you think of King Tonah’s battle tactics?” Kyric asked.

  “It’s a simple plan. I think, with so many spears on the field, that a simple plan would be the best. But I don’t know. I’ve never fought a battle on this scale. None of us has.”

  Kyric nodded. “In my homeland, a battle with these numbers, four or five thousand on each side, would be considered nothing more than a skirmish.”

  “No one outside of Mokkala will ever hear of this battle, will they? Only those who survive it will remember. It will never be recorded on a scroll.”

  “Who can say?”

  The sun finished setting and Mahai began to play again. A full moon rose over the highlands to the east. Suddenly he stopped.

  “You took his blood and felt nothing?”

  “It — ,” Kyric began, but then he saw the ship, the Baskillian carrack, at the mouth of the inlet running under full sail. It maneuvered a little to starboard, its new course straight for Calico.

  Mahai turned and saw it too. “What can we do?”

  Kyric leapt to his feet. “Go find Jasce
nda and bring her to the harbor.”

  He ran for the dock shouting, “Enemy ship!” A moment later Calico’s bell clanged out an alarm. Kyric’s feet barely touched the ground as he hurdled beached canoes. He dodged men with fish on their shoulders without breaking his stride, without even thinking.

  The crew of Calico had swarmed the ship by the time he made it there. Ellec and Lerica stood on the quarter deck. Kyric was surprised — they looked completely normal.

  He shook his head. Of course they did. He had been under the full moon with Lerica in the slave camp and nothing about her had changed except her state of mind, he told himself. Yet he couldn’t shake the memory of what she had looked like running through the moon shadows.

  “Drop all the yardarms,” Ellec called to Pallan, “then get everyone off the ship. We’re going to receive a broadside in about five minutes.”

  “That’s time enough to get some spice ashore,” Pallan said.

  “Forget the spice. Forget your gear. Abandon ship at once!”

  Kyric ran to Lerica. She wheeled to face him, and then her eyes filled with moonlight. They were the eyes he had seen in his dreams. They weren’t human.

  “You’re only in the way here,” she said harshly. “Go. Now.”

  Aiyan stood at the far end of the dock, his longbow in hand. Kyric went to him, and Aiyan looked him up and down, seeing him in full combat gear and nodding in approval.

  “It might come close enough for us to get a few shots in,” he said, “but we’re in the line of fire here.”

  Kyric looked around for Mahai. No telling how long it would take for him to find Jascenda. A crowd had gathered at the harbor side. They milled about uncertainly.

  “Everyone get back,” Kyric called. “Get away from the harbor.” He saw Caleem coming towards them. “Caleem. Get them back. Get them far back. Clear all these buildings.”