So far, so good. She crept along the wall and spied round the next corner. Again the view was clear. She tensed and began her charge across the open space. At that moment, two soldiers, a man and a woman, came into view. Shann careened to a halt and scurried back into the shadows.
“What was that?” It was a male voice. Shann’s heart sank. She had been seen.
“What was what?” the female responded.
“Something moved over there.”
“Where?”
“There, near the tributes’ hut.”
The woman snorted. “You’re seeing things.” Then she added, “Still, I suppose I can’t blame you, after the business at the guardhouse this morning.”
The man sounded distracted. “Six of our troops and a Keltar, all taken out. How could it happen?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this; when Ferenek finds those responsible, he’ll have them strung up by their boot heels.”
Shann’s heart quickened as the news sank in. The guardhouse had been attacked, but no-one knew by whom. That meant that Lyall and Alondo were…alive. Maybe they had halted the attack and escaped when they realised there were too many soldiers at the compound? Or maybe someone else had tipped them off? Right now, she didn’t care. Somehow they were alive. She was going to escape to join them, come what may. And then we come back here and free Roanol and the others. Renewed hope surged through her.
The man spoke again. “I’m going to take a look.”
Shann moved like a flash around to the side of the building and hunkered down in the shade. The crunch of two sets of boots in the sand. Coming closer. She drew back further and shut her eyes as if the act would somehow render her invisible.
“Satisfied?” It was the woman’s voice. “Come on.”
“I suppose.” The man let out a sigh. “This place is making me jumpy. What I wouldn’t give for a mug of horge back at the fort.”
“You drink too much of that stuff as it is…”
The voices faded off into the distance. Shann said a brief thank you to the Three.
She moved back and crossed to the rear of the third hut without incident. From there she could see the ore carts–her immediate goal. Checking that the coast was clear once more, she covered the intervening ground and reached the carts. Two were half full; one was empty. She clambered into the empty one, curling up and pulling the blanket over her, so that it covered her slight form.
Shann figured that the lockdown would have to last at least long enough for Ferenek’s soldiers to do an extensive daylight search for those who had attacked the guardhouse. She could only hope that Lyall and Alondo were well away from here by now. Anyway, if the soldiers were busy chasing down the perpetrators, then they couldn’t supervise ore collection at the same time. Still, I can’t lie here indefinitely.
She recalled layout of the enclosure. The gate faced south, away from Gort’s massive stone walls. The ore carts were not far off from the eastern edge of the compound. If she waited until they widened the search, there would be fewer soldiers here and she would stand the best chance of effecting an escape. She lay in the cart and waited.
Time passed. The suns grew hotter. The noises in the compound grew quieter. Shann decided. Time to move.
She peeked from under the blanket, over the rim of the ore cart. All clear. She rolled out onto the hard-packed sand, and reached back into the cart to retrieve the blanket and the wooden slat. As quickly as she could, she tied the end of the blanket to the wood. Then she made a low dash to the palisade.
The upright stakes were set close together, more than twice her height, and cut to a point at the apex, like a row of sharp teeth. She swung the blanket like a rope. The end weighted by wood sailed up and caught the top of the stake on its spike. Shann tugged on the blanket, and then climbed up. As she neared the top, she felt the blanket starting to rip. With a swift movement, she grabbed on to the rough wooden spike, hauling herself up.
From the top of the palisade, she looked over the outside edge. There was someone there, near the palisade. A black cloaked figure with their back to her. A Keltar. Then a noise from inside the enclosure. She looked back over her shoulder. The sound of a group of soldiers coming from the direction of the guardhouse. Any moment now, they would come into sight and would spot her on top of the palisade and it would be over. There was no choice. She was committed.
She pulled the end of the blanket up and tossed it over the outside of the enclosure. Then, swinging around, she yanked the piece of wood from the blanket, and dropped as swiftly and silently as she could to the sand, landing just behind the cloaked figure. She raised the makeshift club, and brought it down on the back of the Keltar’s neck. At the last moment, a distant part of her mind registered something naggingly familiar about the unruly shock of sandy hair, causing her to pull back slightly. Crack! The Keltar staggered forward from the impact nonetheless. He turned, his left hand clutching the nape of his neck, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Lyall! What are you doing here?”
His face was screwed up in pain. “Trying to rescue you. Although right now, it feels more like I need to be rescued from you.” As if to emphasise the point, he massaged his neck. “Owww!”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” She shook her head. Then she stepped forward and supported him by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
~
Alondo rose to his feet as he saw two figures crest the edge of the dune above the tiny encampment. They were an odd pairing, one tall, with a black cape, topped with a mop of fair hair; the other short, clad in the tan coverall of a tribute. He grinned from ear to ear and began running towards them.
He grabbed the petite girl by the shoulders at arm’s length, and regarded her, as if checking the evidence of his own eyes. “You actually did it; you got her out.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Alondo, but I didn’t do anything. She escaped on her own.”
”You escaped on your own?” Alondo asked in disbelief. “How–?”
“Just be glad she’s on our side.” Lyall rubbed the back of his head.
“I told you, that was an accident,” she protested. “I just–” she stopped in mid-sentence. Lyall was smiling. She hit him playfully on the arm.
“Owww.”
Alondo’s grin widened again. “So…what now?”
“Time to pack up and leave.” He headed for the encampment. Shann and Alondo tagged along behind.
“What about Roanol and the others?” Shann called after Lyall.
“Who?” Alondo probed.
“Roan–I mean the tributes at the compound,” she corrected.
“Don’t worry Shann, I haven’t forgotten them,” Lyall assured her.
“Roanol, eh?” Alondo whispered in her ear.
“Shhh!” Shann’s look was threatening.
They began taking down the awnings and packing away the other gear. “Where are we headed?” Shann asked Lyall.
“The road east.”
“What’s our destination?”
Lyall paused. “Well to be honest, I’m not completely certain. But there’s someone I’m hoping to meet along the way.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 11
Keris swept over the smooth sands of the Southern Desert and entered the forbidding gates of Gort. The guards on duty barely had time to acknowledge her passing. I must be swift. Any moment now, word would spread of the attack on the compound, and the fortress would be on high alert. She needed to buy some time, and for that she needed a diversion. She hurried in the direction of the barracks.
It was shortly after dawn, but most of the fortress’ inhabitants were up and about. More importantly, the garrison would have mustered for the day’s activity; hence the barracks should be all but deserted. She entered one of the low wooden buildings, and poked her head inside the sleeping quarters. As expected, they were deserted.
She stepped inside, and calmly reached into the pouch at her belt, bringing o
ut a lodestone grenade. Placing her other hand over it, she gave it one half twist, and tossed it toward the bunks at the far end. There was a low whine, increasing in pitch, followed by an explosion of white light and heat. Flames and then smoke rapidly took hold of the bunks and the wooden floor. She stepped back, twisting the top half of another silver coloured sphere and threw it toward the other end of the barracks. Another blossoming of light and flame.
There was something strangely satisfying, even cathartic about her actions. During the violence of the events at the guardhouse, she had been detached, professional. Her body and her staff had moved automatically in response to the need to remove the hostile threat–without emotion, without thought. Afterward, though, as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought, the lives she had taken, she felt physically sick. She had acted to save the lives of others, but she still felt sullied by all that she had been forced to do up to this point.
Now, as she watched the flames lick upward, consuming the barracks, it felt as if she were purging herself, expunging forever her old life of service to a creature who was determined to destroy everything she held dear, to achieve his own ends.
What her new life would hold for her she did not know but for the first time in a long while, she felt clean. For now, that was enough.
She turned and exited the burning barracks, heading for the armoury.
The armoury building was a short distance away, near the casemate. Keris waited near the stone wall of the fortified structure, feigning a preoccupation with her equipment. All too soon, there were frenzied shouts from the direction of the barracks. Soldiers began running towards the source of the disturbance, and moments later were joined by the two guards from the armoury itself. Keris waited until they were out of sight, and then slipped inside.
The inner room was poorly lit. Wooden shelves set into the rough stone walls were packed with equipment and boxes. A few crates were stacked against the far wall. Keris found a small sack and began rapidly poring over the items on display, locating what she needed. She worked quickly, replacing anything that she disturbed. Then, tying the sack to her belt, she left the armoury, checking that no-one saw her.
She needed just one more thing. Hurrying across the worn stone cobbles, she made for the Commander’s office.
The office was inside the casemate, at the far end. She entered and saw no-one around. They were all at the barracks no doubt, trying to bring the inexplicable fire under control. The office door was not locked. Her eye scanned the interior and settled on a loose collection of books and scrolls on a table off to one side. She rifled through them, selecting the scroll she needed and stuffing it into her sack.
She turned to leave and stopped. A figure stood in the doorway clad in a rich russet surcoat over leather armour, barring her exit. He was shorter than she was, but still carried an imposing air. His thin features transformed into a visage of pure contempt. His tail twitched in agitation. “You!”
Keris reached behind her and grasped her staff. “Get out of my way, Ferenek.”
Ferenek did not move. “I should have known when you turned up with that…that thing, that you were up to no good.” Keris felt her ire kindle at the description of Boxx. “Why would a Keltar, a sworn servant of the Prophet, turn against their own? Answer me!”
“The Prophet is not who he claims to be.” Keris met his piercing gaze. “He is not Kelanni. He wants to bring about our destruction as a people.”
“You’re mad!” he exclaimed.
“No,” her voice was calm. “We are being deceived. Ask yourself, why would the Prophet enslave so many? Why does he need so much of the lodestone? Why has he never revealed his true purpose?”
Ferenek looked a little less sure of himself. “I am a soldier,” he declared. “It is not my place to question doctrine.”
“You are not a new born dagan,” she countered, “that you should run with the herd over a cliff. Use your head. Ask questions. See whether what I say is true or not.”
Ferenek shook his head, as if trying to free himself from the disquieting thoughts she had planted there. “You must be returned to Chalimar to answer for what you have done. I will not let you pass.” He drew his short bladed weapon.
In a single movement, Keris knocked the blade away with one end of her staff and brought the other end down against his temple. The man crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She stepped over the unconscious form.
Yes, you will.
~
It was not a killing blow. Ferenek would wake up with a bad mood and a splitting headache, but no more. She reflected on her short discussion with the man. Ferenek might be overly attached to form and discipline, but he was not a bad man. If she had had more time, she might have been able to get through to him. She could rely on the fact that he would be making a full report to Mordal of her actions. It hardly mattered; she had no intention of returning to the keep.
Keris hurried out of the casemate and made her way towards the main gate. Clouds of smoke were billowing up from the direction of the barracks. The few people who saw her hurried past, paying her no attention.
She tried to imagine what Mordal’s reaction would be. She was convinced that she was doing the right thing; all the same, she did not enjoy the thought of disappointing him. She was in a very real sense his protégé, the person he had nurtured to be his successor. He believed that the Prophet’s way was right, but he had also instilled in her a love for the Kelanni people and a desire to protect them.
“The people need us,” he would insist, “to keep them on the path, and to prevent them being manipulated by others. We must not let them down.” You trained me too well.
A thought occurred to her. If she could convince Mordal of the Prophet’s true intentions, then she would have a powerful ally. Mordal had said that he trusted her instincts. Maybe it was time to put that trust to the test? She looked at the back of her hand. The lodestone ring was dark, but it was still Linked to one held by Mordal. She had considered throwing it away, but now she thought better of it. She did not know if he would listen, but if he didn’t, then she would not have lost anything. I have to try to explain–I owe him that much.
She passed through the gate and turned right, trudging through the sand beneath Gort’s imposing walls. Passing out of sight of the gate, she came to the eastern side of the massive bulwark. There, propped up against the outer wall, were a haphazard collection of loose timbers, as if left there by a work crew. Keris pulled the timbers apart and located a sack. As she loosened the neck, the sack moved, and a round head with bead-like eyes popped out. The mouth rippled. “Is It Time To Leave, Keris?” Boxx asked in its high, child-like voice.
She helped untangle it from the sack. “Yes, it is time to leave.”
~
They’ve caught up to us. Shann saw the dark-robed Keltar slice through the air and alight on the road in front of them, like a thrown down challenge. I’m ready for you.
She pulled her staff free of the saddle pack, and ran to meet the tall woman with dark flowing hair. She stopped a few steps away and planted both feet in the sand, holding the staff in front of her with both hands, daring the foul servant of the Prophet to take one more step. Shann was still dressed in the tan coverall of a tribute.
The tall woman stood in the road calmly, not reacting to the other’s provocative gesture.
From behind her, she heard Lyall call her name, “Shann.” His tone of voice was not one of encouragement. It sounded sharp, more like a rebuke. Confused, she turned her head to see him walk past, coming between her and the imposing woman. He stopped before the Keltar and bowed. “Welcome–Keris, isn’t it? I am honoured to make your acquaintance at last. I am Lyall. The other man over there by the morgren, who also owes you his life, is Alondo. And our overly zealous companion here,” he indicated the girl behind him, who was still poised to do battle, “is called Shann.” He turned to face the girl. “Put the staff away, please, Shann.”
Shann compli
ed, feeling a detached sense of unreality, as if she had somehow fallen asleep and was trapped within her own fevered imaginings. What’s going on?
“Forgive me,” Lyall was saying, “the girl’s reaction is my fault. I had not explained the nature of our escape from the compound or your part in it…” His voice trailed off as he saw a creature with jointed legs and a segmented shell scamper across the sand and come to a halt next to the Keltar. It stood up on its rear legs, appraising them. “That is a Chandara, is it not?” His voice was filled with wonder.
“Indeed,” Keris spoke up. “It is part of the reason I am here. I am sure you must have many questions. Ail-Gan will be rising soon. If you would like to make camp, then I would be pleased to tell you of the events that have led me here.
Lyall nodded. “Alondo,” he called out, “we make camp here. Break out the awnings and see what rations we have left. We have a guest for dinner.”
~
The wind dropped and the air fell to stillness as Keris began her story. She told of her meeting with Mordal, and her orders to find the one who had attacked a Keltar, bearing the cloak and staff. Her investigation in Corte that had led her to the Inn where Shann worked, and her discovery that the Innkeeper had been executed.
Shann, who had been looking distinctly uncomfortable listening to the words of a Keltar, suddenly rounded on the woman. “Poltann is dead? You…you killed him?”
“By the time I arrived, the execution had already taken place,” Keris explained.
“What about Gallar? What happened to her?”
“Gallar?” Keris inquired.
“She…worked at the Wayfarer.”
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 12
