Chapter Sixteen
A breeze holding the scent of salt brushed her face. Sleepy sea birds cawed overhead. A few lizards crawled among nearby logs. Scuttling sideways, a crab scooted past her on his way to the water. The sand stuck to her cheek as she lifted her head with what seemed to be an incredible amount of effort.
A crimson sun was setting behind them, sinking slowly into the water. They were on a beach, at dusk. Where?
Still as stone, Saoven was lying at her side and to her relief, he was breathing. Karile was on his stomach, propped on his elbows, staring at the sand. No, not at the sand, she realized. He was focused on his wrists, bound by shackles. The enchanter was muttering incomprehensible words, staring at his chains intently, as if he were trying to melt them with his gaze. Abruptly, they popped open and released him.
“Ahh,” Karile sighed, rubbing his wrists.
“Mine next,” Janir piped up.
“In a minute.” Karile scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the line of cedar trees and marsh grass.
“Do you really need to do that now?” Janir shouted, shaking her chains.
“Yes!” Karile chirped back.
Janir sighed and glanced at Saoven. Deliberately, he blinked in the fading light. He had bled where she accidentally rammed him with the back of her skull and sand covered his face. Still, even with all that he was rather…
“Much better,” Karile happily announced, trotting back across the sand.
“Good,” Janir clipped, turning from Saoven to glower up at the enchanter, “get me out of these.”
“Pushy, pushy, pushy,” Karile chided.
“Now!” Janir shouted.
“Alright, alright.” The enchanter knelt and began repeating the incantations over her shackles. After what seemed to be a very long time, the wrist irons snapped open.
“Do you know where we are?” Janir surveyed the beach, the sparse marsh grass, and the cedar trees.
Karile was about to giggle. “The Rivellis Peninsula.”
“But that was supposed to be still a day off,” Janir countered.
“Interesting things, storms,” Karile mused, “they move you in the water a lot faster than you expect.” Taking on an imitative air, Karile made his voice go much deeper. “Ride the worst storm in history, half drown, and save a day on travel. It’s that easy!”
“How cute,” Janir muttered. “Now take off Saoven’s,” She rubbed the raw skin where the irons had chafed red rings. Karile seemed about to protest, but a harsh glare silenced him and sent him back to work.
Saoven dreamily shook his head and massaged his wrists. “What happened?” the elf wondered, blinking in rapid succession.
“Just a little incantation I learned in Grimoire of the Ninth Era—how to find and get to shore in a storm.” Karile was proud to burst.
“From a forbidden library, no doubt,” Janir mumbled.
“Enchanter,” Saoven rose to his feet, pulling Janir up after him, “thank you.” Saoven ground out the words as if they had caused him pain.
Karile was practically preening. It had a way of lessening Janir’s gratitude.
She looked down to her toes, wiggling them in the sand. Unfortunately, her boots had been ripped off in the storm and now she was barefoot. Not that it was a total loss, they had become damaged and full of holes over the past weeks. A glance at her dress and leggings confirmed her suspicions. The skirt was in tatters and hung down in strips. As for the leggings, they had gaping holes all over. Her long sleeves were in ribbons, her bodice was clinging to her skin with damage here and there. Self consciously, she hugged her arms over her chest. She didn’t think she’d been this exposed in public before. Dame Selila would be scandalized.
Saoven and Karile seemed to have faired no better. They reminded her of something in one of the stories Armandius used to tell her about pirates. Only Karile’s shapeless, grungy garment was unscathed. Even though it had been violently washed in the sea, Janir still couldn’t tell whether the huge piece of clothing was a dirty gray or a faded brown.
“Why, you’re welcome, Goblin. You are much more appreciative than some people.” Karile glared suggestively at Janir.
“Thanks, Karile,” she amended.
The young enchanter rolled his eyes in disgust. “What is the world coming to?” he sighed, spreading his stick like arms for dramatic effect.
“We should be going,” Saoven interrupted.
“Why?” Karile squinted toward the sea, clueless.
Janir followed Saoven’s gaze back out across the water. At first she spotted nothing, then as she looked closer…several red shapes bobbed on the horizon.
Silent agreement passed between her and Saoven. They each grabbed an arm and dragged Karile into the trees. The enchanter protested, but they ignored him.
How had the beasts gotten through the storm? Perhaps they had swum around it or maybe they had just swum through it. Their stamina was astounding.
As the trees thickened behind them, Janir looked back. To her alarm, one was rising out of the waves not a hundred sword lengths offshore, clacking and hissing its fury. Its speech was barely audible above the splashing of waves and thudding of feet, but still she managed to make out a very distinct phrase in the jumble of noise.
“Come back, soft skins!”
Needless to say, none of them listened to it.
Cedar boughs whipped Janir’s face and snagged her dress, but she refused to slow. Thorns, stones, and sharp grasses tormented her bare feet with each step, but she pressed on. Saoven led the way, gripping one of Karile’s arms and dragging him through the dense brush.
If the elf had been alone, he could have melted into the trees without a sound and barely a motion. With these two, he had to charge through the forest like a warhorse, bending branches and leaving footprints. Janir had noticed that their path would be painfully clear to the trained senses of the mazag, so they had best flee as quickly as possible.
A crash met her ears as heavy limbs forced their way through the trees and the beasts roared. Karile had realized why they grabbed him and ran on his own, struggling to keep pace behind Saoven. Janir galloped after the enchanter and glanced over her shoulder in time to glimpse a red foreleg tearing aside a cedar. With a shudder, she did her best to run faster.
Her skirt tore on a stray branch and another scratched her face. The forest seemed to be holding her back, trying to catch her in a living snare.
Ahead, Saoven halted. An instant later, Janir realized the trees stopped and there was sunken ground below. Could there have been a gorge at any worse place?
Janir slowed behind Karile, but the clacking of the mazag conquered her reason. She bolted, flight instincts taking over completely. The enchanter, elf, and Argetallam collided with angry shouting and screams of terror as Janir realized how high up it was.
The trio tumbled down the steep and rocky slope, rolling head over heels. Karile said something that sounded similar to a last rites prayer. Saoven let off an indistinct shout. Janir was preoccupied trying to keep the loose rocks away from her head.
At the bottom, they lay there for a few moments. The world was spinning and doing cartwheels. Up was down and down was up.
Then Janir realized the loud clacking of a beast was directly overhead, that one of the huge creatures had already descended to their level and loomed above. It drew its head back, calculating. It sniffed the air contemplatively, then clacked a loud and clear message.
“You do not have the Key. All the better. I shall feast on your flesh!”
The mazag traced invisible patterns in the air with its whip tail, considering which one of them to eat first.
Why wasn’t Saoven doing something besides just lying there, staring at the beast? But at the same time, what else could he do?
The monster flicked its tongue at Karile, then Janir, then Saoven, sampling the air around them. Following Saoven’s led, Janir concentrated on remaining as still as she possibly could. The
beast sniffed experimentally. For several agonizing moments, there was only the sinuous swish of the mazag’s tail and the thud of Janir’s heart in her ears.
Interrupting the agonizing stretch of silence, the faint hum of a flying insect wafted from the general direction of Karile. It buzzed around the enchanter’s head several times and then landed casually on his arm. Every fiber of Janir’s being tangled in that one insect’s movement. Karile jumped and swatted the fly as it bit him.
With a hiss and a final clack, the mazag eagerly snapped up Karile.
“No!” Janir cried, but it was too late. The mazag was already stuffing Karile head first between its four mandibles. Janir couldn’t bear to watch. She scrambled to Saoven and he pulled her to his side.
He gripped her hand and whispered, “There’s nothing we can do.”
Janir felt tears coming, but nodded. They were unarmed and there were three more of those creatures. Karile was lost.
Saoven scrambled to his feet and dragged her to the other side and out of the gorge, but another mazag blocked the way with its massive hulk. Then another and another. They were surrounded on all four sides by the beasts. No escape. Saoven positioned Janir behind him, which was the chivalrous thing, but wouldn’t do much good considering that there was one on each side. Sensing that their victory was nigh, the mazag clacked and clicked triumphantly.
“We will make your deaths slow…agonizing. For what you did to the Queen…to the Egg…”
Janir was certain this was the end when there came a suffocated wheezing from behind them. Janir glanced at the mazag with Karile’s flailing legs still visible from between its mandibles. The beast’s yellow eyes were bulging from its head, the inside flesh on its mandibles was purple.
“What is awry, Mazag Skeris?” one of the beasts clacked.
A straggled wheezing was the only response.
“The enchanter’s second skin seems to be blocking her throat!” clicked another.
The three mazag rushed to the side of their compatriot. Saoven gripped Janir’s hand again and hauled her quickly out of the draw into the line of trees. They crouched side by side behind a spiny bush to see if Karile might still have a chance.
“Spit it out, Mazag Skeris!”
“Use your tongue!”
“Breathe through your nostrils!”
The mazag, the one called Skeris, toppled sideways and began convulsing.
“I shall rip it out!” exclaimed one, leaning toward Karile’s kicking legs with open jaws.
“No! If you tear its legs off, we shall never remove it!” protested another.
“Then what shall I do?” demanded the rebuked mazag.
“Hit him!”
Obediently, the mazag who had been just standing there during this conversation, raised a webbed claw and struck Karile, driving him deeper into Mazag Skeris’ throat. Mazag Skeris’ eyes bulged even wider and its twitching became more rapid.
“Stupid one!”
“You said to hit him!” the bystander protested.
“I meant Mazag Skeris, you imbecilic reptile! Hit her!” the leader clacked.
“Very well.” The second, the one who had threatened to rip off Karile’s legs, raised its claw above Mazag Skeris’ twitching head and slammed down.
By now Janir had begun to pity Mazag Skeris. It convulsed right before it went stiff with its legs sticking out at grotesque angles.
“Were both your eggs dropped down a waterfall?” the lead mazag demanded.
“Well, there was this one time…when I was still in my egg and—”
“Shut up! Hit him on the back!” the lead mazag clacked, pounding on Mazag Skeris with a vigor that could break bones and shatter skulls.
Even as she cringed at the sheer force of their poundings, Janir was thoroughly confused. Was Mazag Skeris a he or a she? Not even his—her—its kind seemed to have made up their minds.
Karile shot out of Mazag Skeris’ throat. He came back into the fading light of day with yellow slime coating his face and arms. He crashed in a moderately large collection of gorse shrubs, flopping into the greenery. Janir and Saoven rushed to the shrubs just as Karile landed with a thunk onto the ground and lay motionless as a dead rat.
Mazag Skeris desperately gasped for air with a pitiful wheezing. The other mazag fussed over their companion with concern, clicking and clacking in a crooning way.
“Karile!” Janir cried, shaking the enchanter’s shoulders desperately.
“Being digested…being digested…” he coughed.
“He’s still alive,” Saoven tersely announced, slinging the enchanter over one shoulder like the load of mostly useless luggage that he was.
With the beasts brooding over Mazag Skeris, the elf and Argetallam made their way through the forest as quickly as was possible when toting a limp enchanter. Janir didn’t know how long they ran. Soon all the forest looked the same, the scratches on her arms and face hardly felt any different. Rocks and sharp twigs stopped bothering her feet so much. The sound of the mazag faded into the distance and all she could hear was her and Saoven fleeing through the forest.
She raced ahead at Saoven’s instruction, turning where he told her to, but besides that she might just as well have been alone. The forest was a gnarled and knotted trap unto itself and Janir began to imagine it was trying to isolate and smother them in its maze.
Saoven motioned frantically. Janir looked ahead just in time to collide with a figure in chain mail. Lucan shoved her in the chest, sending her flat on her back into the coarse marsh grass.
“Did you actually think that you could escape me?” Lucan had several cuts, a black eye, and his tunic was ripped in places, but he still held that air of authority and command.
Four of the five remaining Argetallams were beside him. They also showed signs of wear and tear, but it seemed to have only made them more irritable than ever.
“I had my hopes,” Janir confessed.
“If you wanted to escape, you should have screamed less.” Lucan’s voice dripped contemptuous disregard. “Frankly, I am surprised you survived that.” He probably thought it could only be a feat of great mercy from the heavens. “I lost all the crew and one of my warriors.”
An Argetallam had hoisted Karile onto his shoulder, while two others stood on either side of Saoven.
“Is the enchanter alive?” Lucan demanded.
“Yes, my lord,” the warrior confirmed.
“Good, I shall need him.” Lucan glanced down at Janir with a malicious look she was all too familiar with. “Now,” Lucan grabbed her by the back of her collar, “let’s go treasure hunting.”
The Key of Amatahns Page 32
