by Bruce Blake
"Leave? For where?" he called after her. "What if I refuse to go?"
She stopped, paused, then faced him.
"You won't. In the morning, your journey continues as you desire. With the rising of the sun, you depart for the Green."
***
Although nothing but the sun's leading edge peeked above the horizon and the City of the Sick yet lay in darkness, Trenan found his warriors already assembled when he arrived. Each of them sat their horses with the confidence bred of repetition, equipment and supplies lashed to their saddles. It pleased the master swordsman to find them clad in the armor they'd worn during their evening training rather than bare-chested.
The two dozen warriors didn't mill about. They engaged in no conversation, and none of them fidgeted with their gear or allowed their steeds to dance nervously. Trenan doubted he'd ever seen a more precise and controlled line of fighters in all his time. Despite the effort they'd put in, the fighter in him wondered how the untested soldiers might fare on the battlefield. Wooden swords and a practice yard were one thing, but the chaos of actual battle was something different. Nothing truly prepared a soldier for fight-to-the-death combat. And would it make any difference they were women? With no precedent, he possessed no way to know.
He led his horse to stand in front of them, visible to every rider.
"Is everyone ready?"
They nodded in unison, but no one spoke. Other than grunts of strain and the very occasional cry of pain, he'd not yet heard any of them utter a word. He didn't know whether they lacked the capability of speaking or chose not to do so. Either way, he expected their silence to make for a quiet and lonely ride.
Before mounting his steed, his gaze trailed up and down the avenue, expecting to spy Yoli approaching with instructions, perhaps to join them. The boulevard lay as empty as when he'd first arrived at Ikkundana. He didn't understand why she—or the Goddess—wanted him to go to the Green, but at least doing so allowed him to continue his search for the princess. What else did they mean for him to find? What did this Mother of Death see?
He raised his foot to the stirrup, grasped the saddle horn, and hauled himself up onto his steed. The horse accepted his weight with a gentle whinny, the same way it greeted him every time he'd mounted it since procuring it from the outpost. It wasn't as comfortable beneath him as the horses of the women appeared with their loads; mounts and riders had been together for a while, growing accustomed, trusting.
A helpful trait if war comes as she says.
He reined his mount around and put his heels to its flanks, prompting the animal toward the gate. The others fell in behind him before he opened his mouth to direct them to do so. Dozens of hooves clicked and clattered on the street, their harsh impacts echoing off the walls on both sides of them. Trenan raised his eyes to the buildings lining the avenue. As he'd seen no one peering from windows to document his arrival, neither did anyone watch in the dim of morning to mark their departure. No candles lit, no sleep disturbed, no sounds other than the warriors' passing.
Perhaps not the City of the Sick but the City of the Dead.
The thought brought to mind Yoli's proclamation of the Goddess predicting his coming while speaking through the Mother of Death. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of the mysterious woman. He'd never believed her more than rumor and stories, a frightful tale to keep outsiders away. This mention of her didn't prove her real, though it gave him reason to wonder.
He escorted the riders around a corner onto the avenue leading in a straight line to the wall. A lone figure stood beside the hidden portal, one elbow resting on the complicated machinations used to lay it open. Trenan recognized Yoli and raised a hand to her. She didn't so much as nod in response. Instead, she leaned against the gate-opening contraption. Unseen gears and cogs groaned, chains clanked, and the two halves of the gateway pulled first inward and then to the sides. The master swordsman had seen nothing like it.
As always, Yoli wore armor, sword dangling at her side. Seeing her made Trenan think she meant to join them on their trek, but he didn't see her horse nearby. A sliver of disappointment inserted itself in his chest, and he wondered why. Surely because, as well-trained as the warriors following him proved to be, she appeared the most proficient of them. As they neared the gate, he reined his steed to a stop and looked down at her stony face.
"You are not coming with us?"
"Of course I am." She whistled between her teeth and the clop of hooves on flagstone echoed against the walls as her mount emerged from a hidden alley partway up the lane.
The master swordsman snorted a laugh even as his heartbeat gained in pace in his chest. "Tried to keep it a secret, though."
Yoli stared up at him, her expression blank of any emotion. He couldn't tell if his words had offended her or if she possessed no smiles to spare. Either way, he shifted in his seat to avoid her gaze until the horse arrived at her side. She grasped the saddle's pommel and swung herself up with the ease born of repetition.
"We'll be glad to have you along," he said.
She nodded—the most reaction he'd gotten from her during his stay in Ikkundana. She guided her steed around, pointing it toward the open gate, then waited—her method of telling him it was time for them to go. The disgust she must feel at having to defer to a man to lead them.
Trenan sighed and put heel to horse flesh. As soon as he set out, Yoli did, too, keeping pace half a stride behind him and to his left, and the others fell in behind them. Once they passed through the gate, the gate's contraption creaked and groaned again as if tripped by unseen hands. The two pieces of stone ground back into place, any demarcation of the opening nearly invisible. As they moved away, Yoli spoke.
"Mortal threats are not just around us, sword master. Keep one eye on the sky."
XVII Teryk - Forest
The rumble of many feet—hooves? Paws? —chased them across the meadow.
Once Rilum got going, he proved faster than Teryk, but the prince's youth gave him more stamina. The sailor pulled ahead for a while, but it wasn't long before Teryk caught up. In fact, he'd have passed his companion and left him behind the way Rilum did to him at the start, but he worried for his safety. He knew this one person in an unfamiliar place. With no idea where they might be, he didn't wish to face what may come alone.
He fought the urge to look back; the earth trembling beneath their feet told him the creatures behind grew closer with every step. The knowledge boosted his adrenalin enough to push him on without the need to add more fear by seeing what nipped at their heels.
The sailor didn't have the same self-control.
"Gods," he cursed between panted breaths.
Teryk glanced over and saw him craning his neck to look back. The action not only caused dismay, but slowed him. He grabbed the sailor's shoulder, coaxed him to increase his pace.
"Come on, Rilum."
In his attempt to goad his companion into going faster, the prince glimpsed the group coming up behind them.
They'd drawn close enough for him to make out colors, shapes, sizes. The biggest of the creatures resembled nothing he'd seen; thick legs, wide heads, green-tinted flesh or fur. Some moved upright, but most ran on four feet. Amongst them scampered smaller animals, many unfamiliar, others he recognized from drawings, and a few he'd encountered before: deer, bear, big cats. Several of the beasts appeared as though they should be predator and prey, yet they traveled together, stampeding across the meadow, bent on running down the prince and his companion.
The last thing Teryk noticed before panic and self-preservation took over and made him drag Rilum onward were the small men. Gray-skinned and unclothed, most of them ran with the animals while others rode atop creatures. He gasped and turned his gaze away, looking forward to the forest bordering the meadow ahead of them.
If we make it, we can find somewhere to hide.
It might not mean their safety, but maybe their survival.
The tramp of the sailor's footsteps behind him found
his ears, but he didn't wait to see how close he followed to help him. He may be the only other person in this land, but a scroll written by an ancient hand mentioned one savior, not more.
I have to survive.
Teryk pushed himself harder and found himself thankful for the training Trenan had forced upon him throughout his youth. Many times he'd hated it and most often thought the running he made him do pointless. Now, for the first time in his life—and most likely the last—his throbbing thighs and burning lungs appreciated the relentless coaching and drilling.
The forest ahead drew closer as the rumble grew around them. They'd come near enough for Teryk to identify individual tree trunks, discern the leafy ones from the evergreens, but close enough they'd make it before the behemoths trod them into the ground? Tall grass whispered against his legs, coaxed him on. Teeth clamped, he pushed himself harder, willing himself to move faster.
The shadows of the first trees fell on Teryk, cooling him, though he suspected it might be mere perception rather than reality. Two rapid heartbeats later, he found himself amongst the narrow trunks of the leafy saplings leading to the forest proper. He weaved his way through them, aware of Rilum's presence close behind him. The sailor—used to shipboard duties, not sprinting across fields—huffed labored breaths, heavy feet beat the ground, but he maintained his pace at the prince's back.
The grass between the trunks grew sparse, replaced by low shrubs and tangled brambles as the forest itself became more dense. Wider-trunked evergreens took up space between the smaller trees, forcing them out and turning the woods into a labyrinth of brush and tree. Fallen limbs scattered around the ground further impeded their progress, and Teryk paused long enough to peek back behind them.
No animals followed them—big ones, small ones, furred, fleshed, and every color no longer appeared in the meadow. Nothing but the gray men remained, but neither did they chase Teryk and Rilum. They'd stopped at the edge of the smaller trees where the grassland ended and the forest began.
Teryk slowed, then halted. Rilum avoided running into him by dodging at the last second, twisting his body to avoid colliding with his companion. He skidded to a halt beside the prince and spun around to see what gripped his attention. The sailor's breath clicked in his throat.
"Where...?" He trailed off, the question left incomplete.
The small gray men ran back and forth along the boundary of grass and forest, arraying themselves in a line. A few remained separate from the others, and the prince heard their voices carried on the still air. Their individual words dissipated, bleeding together and making it impossible to tell if they spoke the same tongue as him.
"What's happening?" Rilum found his voice again.
Teryk waved a hand to quiet him. "I don't know," he whispered.
Thoughts and feelings, sense and emotion battled within the prince. The sensible part of him begged for them to flee, disappear into the forest and get as far away from these unusual men as possible. But the emotional side refused to let his legs retreat from the threat. He sensed an import to the happenings here, an event of unimaginable significance, though he hadn't a clue what or why he should think it the case. Rilum tugged on his sleeve, not feeling the same thing.
"Let's get our asses away from here," he said, his tone a forceful whisper.
"We don't know what happened to the animals."
"So? If they're not bein' here, then they ain't no danger to us."
Teryk faced the sailor. "What if they are circling around behind?"
Rilum's expression turned slack and frightened. "More reason to get the hell outta this place."
"It's too late." He shook his head and took a tentative step back toward the meadow and the lengthening line of gray men; they numbered far more than he'd thought.
"Where are you going?"
The prince didn't answer, instead taking two more steps away from Rilum, choosing his footing to avoid making noise. His companion huffed an exasperated sigh loud enough to negate Teryk's care if anyone listened, but no one did. The small gray men continued forming their line with no pause or hesitation.
Battle line?
Their behavior suggested they readied themselves, but for what? The animals appeared to have vanished into empty air, but they'd posed no threat to these unusual fellows. No, they prepared for something else.
Teryk crept closer, slinking around a bush with wide, bronze-tinted leaves, stepping over a branch fallen from a nearby tree, pale green lichen covering its bark. As he neared them, he realized the gray people stood no taller than half the height of an average man, with little variation in size from one to the next. Some broader and more stout, others so skinny they resembled the thin-trunked leafy trees, but their heights appeared within the width of three fingers of each other. All were hairless and unclothed, but none exhibited shame at being so any more than an animal caught without breeches.
The gray man closest to Teryk—stockier and more heavily muscled than the others—called out clear enough for the prince to catch his words. Though he didn't understand the language he spoke, his voice held a tone he recognized from the commands Trenan had barked at him countless times during their training sessions. This fellow appeared in charge.
Teryk wiped sweat from his palms on his breeches. His sun-dried clothes gave off a tangy scent of perspiration and the sea. Smelling himself thus made his belly roil; he gulped a mouthful of fresh air into his lungs, attempting to calm his nausea as he crept closer. With ten paces between him and the closest of the men, he stopped, though now he saw they weren't all male.
He crouched, hiding himself behind a bush dotted with plump red berries. Their sweet aroma penetrated his own stink, and his belly growled with hunger. He shrank back lest any of the small gray people notice his stomach's lament; finding Rilum at his side startled him. The sailor moved with such stealth, Teryk hadn't realized he'd followed.
His companion opened his mouth to speak, but the prince silenced him with a gesture. They didn't know what these things were—though his suspicions increased with each passing heartbeat—nor their intent or demeanor. No telling what they might do to the two men should they discover them watching.
Yet I find myself drawn toward them.
Teryk returned his attention to the gray figures strung out at regular intervals along the border between forest and meadow, this time looking past them at the grassy expanse beyond. The tall blades stirred with a wan breeze wafting across the field. It should have appeared peaceful, serene, but a heaviness in the air stole the inherent tranquility from the scene. Though the little people—what he suspected to be Small Gods based on the vague descriptions related in legend and lore—showed no sign of panic, urgency informed their actions.
If it's true, then Small Gods fill the land across the sea.
This thought cast the scroll and its prophecy in a whole new glow, opened it to further interpretation and made its meaning uncertain rather than more clear.
A flash at the far end of the meadow caught Teryk's attention. He shook his head, clearing thoughts he had no chance of untangling, and squinted. The light shimmered, joined by another and another, then others. It wasn't firelight—midday didn't require torchlight. It lacked the flickering of torches or lanterns.
No, the scintillating glimmers possessed the quality of starlight.
Like the stars I saw fall from the sky.
The muscles in Teryk's body tightened, his limbs preparing for fight or flight, whichever he demanded of them, but he held his place.
The shimmering glow expanded until a line of silver light emblazoned the entire far end of the meadow. Not a solid boundary, but one made of many shining pinpricks, each bobbing and fluctuating. Soon after it formed, a rumbling in the earth vibrated against Teryk's feet. The gray figures not yet set in place hurried to their positions, the stocky fellow hollering orders others passed along their ranks. Did he stand on the verge of witnessing a fight between the Small Gods of forest and sky?
"What's
happening?" Rilum whispered; his words startled Teryk despite their quietness.
"I'm not sure," he replied against his best judgment, but the gray figures proved too involved in their own doings to notice them speaking. "Did you see that?"
He raised his hand, pointed at the line of dancing light and sensed his companion lean forward as though doing so enabled him to get a better view. Teryk held his breath, listening to his heart beating in his ears and noticing the vibration growing stronger. His lips parted, ready to speak of fallen stars and Small Gods, tempted to blurt nonsensical words concerning an ancient scroll and his part in a vague prophecy, but the sailor spoke first.
"Sun on steel," Rilum said. "Swords, shields, armor. Them be riders."
His observation explained both the weird light and the growing rumble far better than Teryk's flight of fancy.
A lot of horses, judging by the shaking of the earth. Why didn't I recognize it?
The vibration in the ground grew to become a sound—hundreds of hooves beating the turf. Amongst their deep-toned thrum, other sounds became plain: steel clashing against steel, men yelling and hollering.
Teryk knew not who these soldiers might be or their intent toward him, but fear clawed its way into his gullet. The onrushing army did not appear to have a similar effect on the gray figures.
The last of them settled into their positions, the heavily muscled male the lone one not taking up position in the line. On a shouted command from him, the others raised their arms, holding them straight out to the sides. Far too much space lay between them for their hands to touch—the result if they'd been a few steps closer to each other.
The drone of hoof beats grew louder, the clamor of struck metal and threatening voices growing along with it. The riders advanced close enough the prince recognized the colors and breeds of individual horses. Above them, a movement caught the prince's eye. The sky darkened, but not because of clouds crossing the sun.
Birds!
More wildfowl than Teryk had seen in his entire life, more than he'd have guessed existed. The men on horseback didn't falter as the multitude of winged and feathered bodies blotted out sunlight and sky. A heartbeat later, the enormous flock caught up to the horses, passed them. Their flight path headed toward the woods where the gray figures waited and he and his companion hid. A huge raven led the throng, its wide wings and sleek body so black, night might have gotten lost in it.
