The Maiskhan ships were swallowed, struggling to climb the face of the impossible wave, or else turning broadside to it and disappearing under the millions of tons of force, broken to splinters and kindling in the blink of an eye. He felt sorry for the enemy soldiers and sailors, but no one would have suffered for more than a second.
The wave filled his entire field of vision, coming at them. Mark knew they were going to drown, swept away. He fought the wind to gather Sandy into his arms, so she wouldn’t see their doom, but she shoved him to the side.
“I command you to stop!” she screamed, her words ripped away in the howling gale. She flipped the mirror over, pressing it to her chest, facedown. “The task I set you is done. Enough! Enough, be still!”
The wave broke against the sides of the half-finished temple but didn’t crest it, to Mark’s utter amazement. The impact of millions of gallons of water sent shudders through the tons of stone, but the mound and terraces had been well built, and only a corner of one lower tier shattered, floating away in the current. Then the water receded, washing the entire area around the base of the pyramid clean to bedrock.
Moments later, the ocean was peaceful, gleaming in the sun, back in its proper place. Small sets of normal waves formed and came in to break against the sloping beach in the distance. Of the Maiskhan armada, there was no sign, not even debris.
Drawing apart, Mark stared at Sandy, wide-eyed, afraid to even touch her.
She laughed, shaking her head. “You asked me to call on the mirror, remember? The gods told us it was a fearsome weapon.”
“Holy Lords of Space, I had no idea what we were unleashing. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Sandy gave him a serene smile. She ran her hand through her disheveled blond hair to restore a semblance of order, and blushed. “I’m better than fine. I’m pregnant.”
“What?” His brain refused to process the message for a moment.
“I ran the test this morning. I thought I was. I hoped I was, and the test results confirmed my intuition. We’re having twins.”
He caught her in his arms again and swung her around while the soldiers cheered.
Descending from the half-finished pyramid, Mark and Sandy took their time. Captain Khefer and Ebnar shouted orders to the newly freed slaves and soldiers. At the base, the two officers formed the motley crowd into ragged columns and then began marching along the pitted and broken remnants of the muddy road toward the city.
“Nothing will ever grow here again, will it?” Sandy gazed around as she walked. “The salt water will have killed even the roots.”
“Perhaps such an outcome is best,” Captain Khefer answered. “The ocean waters wiped away all the evil the enemy sought to plant here, on the soil of our country.”
“True enough.” She sighed, leaning heavily on Mark’s arm. “I’m so tired.”
“We’ll take it slow, I promise,” Mark said. “And I’m sure Rothan will send us help.”
“Or come himself,” Khefer answered. “Reinforcements arrive!” He pointed at the far-distant city. Mark counted a substantial number of chariots on the way to meet them.
“Do I hear trumpets?” Sandy asked.
“The sweet sound of victory,” Mark answered.
A few moments later, he had confirmation when the chariots swept up to them, under the command of Nemiah.
“What’s news?” Mark yelled.
“The city is taken!”
A great cheer rose from the former slaves and the soldiers.
“When the king moved to attack the walls, the gates were thrown open and soldiers loyal to him came forth.” Nemiah provided more details as the noise of the cheers quieted. “As soon as we were sure we weren’t walking into a Maiskhan trap, our king and his troops marched triumphantly into the city and occupied the palace. We are to take you to him there,” Nemiah said. “My orders are to accomplish the trip with no delay. The king is impatient to have the Lady of the Star Wind and her consort at his side.”
“What happened to Farahna?” Mark asked.
“She wasn’t found, my lord.” Nemiah seemed to take it as a personal failing on his part.
“She escaped?” Mark was somehow not surprised. The one time he’d been a prisoner in front of her, he’d gotten the distinct impression of a clever, consummate survivor. He would have been more amazed if Farahna had allowed herself to be captured.
“Not good,” Sandy said.
“No, not at all,” Khefer agreed. “One piece of bad news mixed with the good. Let us make haste to the palace.”
As many as could crowded into the chariots Nemiah had brought, leaving the rest to continue their march under the command of one of Ebnar’s former officers. The procession entered the wide-open gates of the city to the sound of cheers from crowds on the walls and lining the streets. As the chariots swept along the central avenue toward the palace in the distance, people threw flowers at them, cheered for Rothan, and wept. An unbroken line of soldiers from the allied provinces formed a barrier between the street and the crowds.
“So different today than when we were marched out with Hutenen’s casket, remember?” Mark said to Sandy.
Tossing her head, Sandy laughed. “This is much better.”
Rothan stood on the steps of the palace, waiting for them. He was still garbed in his dusty, stained uniform, but wore the golden Crown of Khunarum on his head. Surrounding him at a respectful distance were General Intef, the other leaders, a gaggle of priests, Sapair, and others. Mark recognized most of them, but a few faces were new to him.
Guards from the allied forces were positioned at each entrance and along the walls.
“I hope Rothan plans to be cautious about accepting allegiance from anyone who worked for Farahna,” Mark said to Sandy. “We’re all going to have to be careful and watch ourselves in this place. Inevitably, there’ll be traitors and turncoats left in the crowd, hoping to stay under the scanners.”
“Yes, but Sapair and Ebnar will know most of them, which helps,” she answered. “Rothan’s never going to be a trusting soul again—he’s made that amply clear.”
“No. Anyone who hasn’t ridden with him to this point will have a hard time being accepted into the inner circles of power.”
“My most loyal courtiers, I welcome you to our palace, now and forever under the sway of the true gods of Nakhtiaar. Victory is ours!” Another cheer went up from the assembled nobles and soldiers as the king greeted Sandy and Mark and their companions.
Rothan led the way to the throne room. Today there were no musicians and no dogs. A crowd of officers, nobles, priests, and others prostrated themselves as the royal party walked by. Rothan showed no hesitation as he ascended the towering throne before giving permission for the assembly to rise.
The king conducted a ceremony of thanks, including blessings by various high priests but cut the assembly short, to the visible surprise of many in the room.
“General Intef, commander of my armies, has his orders concerning the search of the city for Maiskhan stragglers and other fugitives,” Rothan announced. “Tomorrow we’ll begin the work of installing my court and designating officials. I’ll publicly recognize those in my army who distinguished themselves in the battle, and rich rewards shall be theirs. I’ll take the oath of fealty from nobles, priests, scribes, and judges. Proper sacrifices will be made at the major temples. Tonight, however, I wish to consult with my inner court. All others are dismissed.”
The crowd bowed, buzzing with muted conversation. People filed out of the throne room under the implacable gaze of the soldiers. In this inner sanctum, the guards were all from the Mountaintop or Mikkonite forces. Rothan descended from the throne as the soldiers closed the huge gold-leaf-encrusted doors behind the last stragglers.
“Congratulations.” Mark clasped his friend’s outstretched hand and was drawn into an exuberant hug. Rothan pounded him on the back.
“It wouldn’t have happened without you and your Lady. The city yielded
itself to me with no great effort on my part, thankfully. There was no need to fight house to house or burn large swathes of the buildings, as I’d earlier feared might be required. And the wave summoned by the Lady to crush the Maiskhan navy more than fulfilled the prophecies.” He grinned at Sandy. “But the victory isn’t secure while Farahna remains alive. There’s no sign of her, her son, or her closest Maiskhan advisers and guards. Come, Sapair has prepared a more private room so we can strategize. We must talk about what to do next in our hunt for my enemy.”
Rothan led them through a series of corridors and antechambers, arriving eventually at a good-sized dining room where a lavish dinner awaited. There were no servants in the room, and the guards saluted and left as soon as the group entered. The doors closed behind them.
“The food?” Mark paused as he reached for a plate. It smelled delicious, and he was starving, as his rumbling stomach would attest, but he was wary, remembering what had happened to the original Hutenen in this very palace.
“Every morsel of this mouthwatering meal came from our supplies, brought from home. The food was prepared and watched over by General Intef’s servants,” Sapair answered. “I’m well aware of how careful we must be with the king’s safety, my lord. And yours.”
“Sorry, no offense meant.” Selecting a roll, Mark took a bite.
“None taken,” Sapair assured him. “I’m relieved you perceive the potential dangers. Merely because the city declared itself for Rothan doesn’t mean all the traitors have been removed. We must remain vigilant.”
“As long as I live,” Rothan agreed. “And my son too will have to exercise caution when he sits the throne. There’ll always be those who seek to get ahead by doing evil.”
Sitting at the head of the table, the king removed the heavy golden crown, setting it beside him with an audible thunk. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thing weighs on me as if I wore the very sun. My head aches.”
“I can do something to help,” Sandy offered. She checked with Sapair. “Have my medical supplies been brought from the camp on the other side of the river?”
Ebnar and Sapair had been having quiet words off to the side of the room, but the chief official snapped to attention as he heard Sandy’s question.
“I’ll have them brought to you now.” Sapair issued an order to one of his administrative minions standing by, and the man left at a run.
“Please, you’re my dearest friends and closest advisers. We don’t stand on ceremony in private. There are no eyes to see us abandon protocol tonight.” Rothan waved his hand. “Sit, eat while we figure out how to find Farahna. Sapair, Ebnar, I command you to join us at the table as well.”
As he held Sandy’s chair for her, Mark asked, “Can you use the mirror to show us where Farahna is? Or did you burn out the magic for now by delivering the tidal wave?”
“Good question. I can try asking for information.” Sandy removed the mirror from her belt and stared into it. She left her chair and walked over to show the mirror’s face to Rothan. “I think you need to see this.”
The others moved to cluster around and peer over her shoulder.
“It’s Farahna, all right,” Khefer said.
“But where is she?” Rothan asked, his voice puzzled. “In a tunnel or a cave of some type?”
“And where she is, she’s in a good mood, laughing, not worried about getting captured.” Mark tried to get a closer view over Sandy’s shoulder.
“Indeed, her jovial mood is a bad omen for us.” Rothan drummed the fingers of one hand on the table.
“There are no such caves or tunnels in the city or at the harbor,” Khefer stated with confidence. “I’d have found them and used them for my own purposes a long time ago if there were. I explored some strange and remote places while I was spying.”
The images faded into the perpetually churning gray mists of the mirror.
Resuming their seats, the gathering returned to dining.
“This palace was originally built by survivors from Khunarum, right?” Mark took a serving of roast fowl, giving Sandy the most succulent portion and ladling sauce over it.
“Yes. What does the history of this place have to do with finding Farahna?” Rothan asked, pouring wine.
“Remember the palace in the Lost City? Riddled with tunnels. Why wouldn’t the people from Amaraten build the same kind of thing after relocating here?” Mark explained the logic behind his theory. “Sapair, have you ever heard of such tunnels?”
“Nothing more than rumors, my lords. What ancient building is not rumored to harbor a secret passageway or two?”
“We were building them into the cursed Maiskhan temple, I can assure you,” Ebnar added, spearing a piece of fruit and adding it to his plate.
Fists clenched on the table, Rothan was the picture of frustration. “She can’t be allowed to flee. If she’s alive, the Maiskhan will continue to use her as a claimant to my throne. She’ll be their centerpiece for fomenting rebellion.”
“She could be anywhere,” Mark said. “The mirror never gives much hint as to the surroundings.”
“No, even if I ask it again, we’ll get much the same picture,” Sandy agreed. “Sorry.”
“We could search for weeks and not find her, Your Majesty,” Ebnar ventured. “She and her companions will stay on the move if she’s smart.”
“He’s right, there’s no time for searching,” Sandy thought out loud. “But what if I ask the mirror to show me specifically where she will be? Maybe tomorrow at sunset?”
“The mirror hasn’t seen the event yet, Sandy,” Mark said. “How can you ask for a future view?”
“There’s a theory about time circling around on itself, like a giant snake.”
“Like our old nemesis Sherabti?” he asked, rubbing his wrist.
“But if the theory is true, then the mirror has seen the future and the past,” she said.
“Do you believe it?”
“It’s worth a try.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m beginning to think the mirror’s only limits may be what I think it can and can’t do.”
“After today’s tidal wave, I’m inclined to agree.” He was still in awe of the miracle his beloved had wrought with the mirror’s help. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“Let me try this for you?” Sandy checked with Rothan for his assent.
“Of course. Far be it from a king to refuse the Lady of the Star Wind, who wields such power,” he said with a wide smile. “After what you did today, destroying the Maiskhan armada, Nakhtiaar owes you anything you might request, and I’ll gladly grant it.”
Sandy raised the mirror, the crone facing her from the handle. “I ask to see the future,” she said in a conversational tone, as if talking to the goddess. “I ask to see where the evil one will walk tomorrow evening as the sun sets.”
There was a flash of red light from the mirror. A life-size image projected into the center of the room. Sandy came close to dropping the mirror. “Well, seems I’ve learned a new trick.”
“Does anyone recognize the place?” Mark remembered that brevity was the most inconvenient aspect of visualizations from the mirror.
He watched Farahna walk onto a beach in the ruddy sunset. A fat sun rode the sky inches above the horizon, its much smaller binary a dot close by. Maiskhan soldiers surrounded the deposed queen. A small boat could be seen rowing toward the beach, while a larger ship rolled in the troughs of waves offshore.
“I know where it is! I recognize it,” Khefer yelled.
The vision winked out.
“Sorry.” Khefer apologized as everyone turned to glare at him. “But I do know the cove,” the captain assured his listeners. “I recognize the rock formations. It’s to the west of the harbor.”
“She’ll be there at sunset tomorrow.” Sandy put the mirror in its soft, padded pouch at her belt.
“And we’ll be there to greet her,” Rothan vowed. “We must post guards there now, tonight, in case she should emerge from hiding earl
ier than the mirror foretells.”
Khefer left his seat and saluted. “I’ll see to it at once, Exalted One. I’ll go myself and take my own charioteers, men whose absolute loyalty we can trust.”
Sallea left her chair to join him. “I’ll send Lakht aloft to search out the place and keep watch with you as well.”
By late afternoon the next day, the king and his inner court, along with a detachment of soldiers from the Mountaintop province, arrived at the beach and hid from view, joining Khefer and Sallea. The mouth of the cave was well camouflaged by brush and a large flat rock, but Mark had no trouble recognizing the location shown to Sandy by the mirror.
He was relieved they didn’t have to wait long before a Maiskhan ship sailed over the horizon and prepared to drop anchor. Djed was first to see the vessel with his keen archer’s eyes. He pointed it out to the rest of them. Mark checked it out through his distance viewer. “Maiskhan, all right. Damn! We have to get them out of the picture. I don’t want anyone else coming to this beach party tonight. And the mirror showed us a small boat coming ashore, remember?”
“What do you propose?” Rothan asked. “As you remind me constantly, I have no navy.”
“Sandy, do you think you could get the mirror to conjure a strong wind?” Mark asked. “Not a gale force, but close to it, to push them out to sea and keep them there?”
She kissed him on the lips. “We’ll soon find out. I did do dust devils while we were staying at Rothan’s home in the mountains. This would be similar.” She picked up the mirror, lined up the younger goddess with the reflective faceplate, and made her request.
“I don’t think it’s working,” Khefer said hesitantly as a moment or two passed and the air remained dead calm.
No sooner had he spoken than the sails of the ship puffed out with such force the vessel came close to heeling over, picking up speed as it rode the waves. The captain tried to maneuver, tacking in various directions, but the wind in the sails pushed him inexorably toward deep water. The wind adjusted to match each new trick the Maiskhan tried, and in a few moments, the vessel had sailed from view.
Lady of the Star Wind Page 38
