by Sandra Kopp
Angyar pursed his lips. The journey to Fang Mountain would take at least two weeks. Somehow during that time he would effect an escape.
The campfire blazed up as Chemille plopped an armload of branches upon it. Smiling, she sidled to the log and sat down beside Davon. Akira tightened the last thong around the top of a hastily-erected wickiup and strode toward Chemille. Before he reached her, Chirubach, in human form, bounded into camp, bearing a small doe upon his shoulders.
The male shapeshifters growled and Chemille squealed as they leapt upon the animal. Davon seized the opportunity to remove himself from the log to a tall stone next to Angyar. Together they watched as, within minutes, the shapeshifters skinned and gutted their prey. Chirubach tilted his head back and dropped the liver into his mouth. Akira tore the heart in half, popped one half into his mouth and offered the other to Chemille. Finally, the grisly chore completed, each tore off a chunk of meat and sat down on the log, eating it raw.
“Don’t just sit. Dig in.” Chirubach glanced from Angyar to Davon as he motioned toward the mutilated carcass.
Angyar exchanged a wry look with Davon, who shook his head. Trying to hide his distaste, Angyar carefully set up a spit and put on a couple of pieces to roast. Chirubach snorted and kicked the spit into the fire. “You’re no man,” he sneered and then unleashed a volley of curses.
“Our people prefer our meat roasted,” Angyar returned quietly.
Chirubach cocked his leg up and propelled it forward, planting the sole of his foot into the side of Angyar’s head. Grinning, he lowered the foot and resumed his supper. “Go on,” he taunted between swallows. “Let’s see you try again.”
Davon stared. “Why do you denigrate him so?”
Chirubach stopped chewing and gaped in disbelief. “Because he’s a cur. Because he is bearded, bedraggled, and dirty. Because I feel like it.” He waved a hand at the old Wyar. “Look at him. He’s an idiot, much like your—” He stopped as Akira jabbed a warning elbow into his ribs and then laughed. “Why do you care?”
“Last night when you arrived together I perceived you were friends. You spoke amiably to each other. I feel I drove you apart.”
“Nay.” Chirubach waved a dismissive hand and bit into his supper which, mercifully, he chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “I brought him to perform a service, but he failed.”
Davon blinked in confusion. “What service?”
Chirubach sniffed and rolled his eyes. “I hoped he could tell me who you are. After all, he is a mighty chief, a respected elder of his people.”
Davon shook his head. “But has he seen anyone outside of his tribe? I do not recognize him. How then could he know me?” Davon looked down and sighed. “At least, I don’t think I’m—”
“No, obviously you are not a Wyar,” Chirubach sarcastically cut in. “But I am a powerful prince, and to be put off and mocked by his ilk irritates me.”
Davon frowned, puzzled. “You are mighty? You—”
Chirubach threw down the rest of his meat and jumped to his feet. “You question my position and power?” he roared. He pointed to the spot where he had earlier transformed into the beast. “Did you not witness me change into a fearsome creature capable of killing everything in its way? Answer me!”
Davon nodded shortly.
“So you do acknowledge my power?”
Another short nod. Davon moistened his lips. “With power such as yours, why do we journey so slowly? Could you not carry us immediately to the sorcerer?”
Chirubach regarded him haughtily. “Of course,” he sneered, “but your bodies could not endure the heat. Our method would incinerate you both.”
“I see.” Davon paused.
Chirubach placed a hand on his hip. “Any more questions?”
Davon looked at him dumbly. “What are you?”
Chirubach curled one side of his lip and leaned toward him. “What do you mean, what am I? I am no what. Rephrase your question, fool, into more respectful terminology.”
“Chirubach, I pray you, do not abuse him.” Chemille sprang to her feet.
“Sit down!” Chirubach snarled. “Akira, put this blasted female on a tether, will you?”
Akira seized Chemille’s arm, and pulled her down beside him. Chemille turned imploring eyes toward Davon, who totally disregarded her. “I am here for you,” she said.
“Shut up!” Chirubach shouted over his shoulder. He glared down at Davon then. “Did you hear me? I said, rephrase your question.”
Davon blinked, but retained his blank expression and again moistened his lips. “I mean, what are you? A warrior? A magician? A. . .god?”
A broad smile brightened Chirubach’s face. He slowly straightened. “There you are: A god. Yes. I like that. Yes, you could say that.” He nodded. “I am indeed a god.”
“They’re Anathahites,” Angyar murmured, and braced for a beating. Chirubach, however, ignored him.
Davon stared dumbly. “Anatha. . .what?”
Chirubach plopped down on the log and planted one hand on his thigh. “The Anathahites, once the proudest, most powerful race on earth, originated in the northern lands beyond what you call the Forbidden Desert. For centuries we thrived. However, our neighbors envied us. They envied our wealth, our intelligence, our prosperity. They envied our cities, our power, our beauty. They attacked us, not honorably and face to face but as cowards, sneaking up on us by night and slaughtering us as we slept. Amid smoke and confusion, we fled. We occupied lands near the Forbidden Desert, miles from them, and still they attacked us until only five remained. We cried out to the gods. Amahut answered, and in return for our worship, gave us limitless power.”
Davon hesitated. “I have seen only you three.”
“One attends to business elsewhere, and Amahut has conscripted the other to service in his realm.”
“Where would that be?” Davon asked cautiously.
“The nether world,” Chirubach snapped.
“And the fourth remains in this world?”
Chirubach dipped his head. “Yes.”
Worry knitted Angyar’s brows as he watched the exchange. What is he doing? Has he some method to his questions? He seems intent on inciting some reaction from Chirubach, but what could it be? I only pray he does not incur his wrath.
“This. . .Amahut: You say he granted you limitless power?”
Chirubach eyed him coolly. “He has.”
“To change your shape. To travel wherever you wish in the blink of an eye?”
“And back again, likewise in the blink of an eye. There and back, in a single blink.”
Davon looked down, shaking his head in wonder. “Amazing. I cannot fathom such a thing.”
“I can summon our brother. Shall I?” Chirubach queried.
Davon looked up again. “From the nether world?”
“Not while Amahut requires him. I can, however, summon Patrus from across this kingdom.”
Davon’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, do so.”
What are you thinking, Angyar wanted to shout. Three are bad enough. Why would you summon a fourth?
Hardly had he finished the thought when Patrus, seated and gnawing a fish, appeared before Chirubach in a flash of light. Patrus swallowed, but choked as he sighted his three countrymen.
“Ayeeeeeee!” The startled Anathahite jumped and dropped his fish. At that moment he glanced to his right and, upon seeing Davon and Angyar, cried out again and scooted closer to Chirubach. “What is this?” he demanded. His comrades hooted with laughter.
“Sorry, old man.” Chirubach clapped Patrus on the shoulder. “We needed you here to make a point.”
“What point?” Patrus huffed, retrieving his fish and beating off the dirt against his pant leg.
Chirubach pointed at Davon. “The fair one wanted a demonstration of Anathahite power.”
“And is he satisfied?” Patrus glowered at Davon and bit into the fish.
Davon remained silent. Chirubach cocked his head and regar
ded him narrowly. “I don’t know. Are you satisfied, fair one?”
“I—” A quizzical look crossed Davon’s face. “It could have been a trick.”
“A trick?” Patrus scrambled to his feet. “Interrupting my supper to drag me. . .however many miles I’ve come. . .”
“Easy, Patrus.” Chirubach tugged Patrus’ sleeve until he sat down again and then gave Davon a patronizing smile. “Very well then, my skeptical friend. Give us a task.”
Davon pondered a minute and chuckled nervously. “I. . .I don’t know what—”
“Anything.” Chirubach waved a hand. “Anything at all. Shall I fetch you a stone from a distant planet? Or a—”
Davon shook his head. “I would suspect—”
“Oh, yes, you would suspect a trick,” Chirubach sneered. “Very well.” He clapped his hands together. “So. . .give me a task.” He leaned forward, crooking the fingers of both hands to give weight to his challenge. “Come on, amuse me. What shall I do to convince you?” He folded his hands then and let them hang between his knees.
Davon’s lips tightened and then relaxed as he thought a minute. Finally he ventured, “You say you can travel to another planet?”
“I can travel to the far reaches of the galaxy.”
“All of you together?”
“All of us,” Chirubach averred.
“Even between dimensions?”
Chirubach’s eyes gleamed. “At last! We’re approaching a worthy task! Say on; what is your task?”
“Oh.” Davon smiled sheepishly. “You might think it foolish.”
“Come, come. Out with it. Name your task, and I swear by Amahut I will perform it.”
“This task would include all of you, although i—it’s just a small one.”
“Let’s hear it,” Chirubach urged with growing impatience.
“You swear by Amahut to perform the task I give you?”
Chirubach rose. “I swear it! By Amahut, we shall all perform this idiot’s task.” He glanced around at his companions, who now grinned in amusement. “Am I right?”
“Aye!” they shouted in unison. “By Amahut, we will perform it!”
“All right.” Davon paused for a breath. “The task is this: Go between dimensions in the far reaches of the cosmos and. . .”
“Yes?” Chirubach pressed.
“Get. . .lost!”
A chill fell over the camp. Terror contorted the shapeshifters’ features. A horrific, blood-curdling shriek erupted from Chemille’s throat, and then another, and another, and another. Patrus and Akira paled. Eyes and mouths agape, they appeared to scream but uttered no sound.
A mix of fury and horror twisted Chirubach’s livid face, and his eyes bulged such that Angyar feared they would explode from their sockets. “Treachery! Treachery!” he roared.
The shapeshifters convulsed, their spidery limbs flailing in all directions as an inky swirling mist engulfed them. Chemille crumpled to the ground, her pleading arms stretched toward Davon. Chirubach gnashed his teeth and lunged at Angyar, only to disappear a few inches away. In a split second the ghastly company had all vanished. Davon and Angyar fell to the ground as thunder exploded around them and reverberated through the distant canyons.
Davon recovered first, raising himself on all fours before hauling himself back up on the rock. For a moment he sat, panting, and then offered a hand to Angyar, who had just sat up. Angyar stared, incredulous, as he took Davon’s outstretched hand and staggered to his feet. “You-you’re all right,” he stammered. “Praise heaven, you’re all right!”
Davon managed a shaky laugh. “Aye. But no exertion or heated battle I’ve ever experienced surpassed the hardship I endured maintaining this façade.”
Angyar sat on the rock beside Davon. “But you had to to survive.”
Davon nodded. “Aye.” He suddenly shook himself and vigorously rubbed his arms. “Ach, that ghastly woman and her repulsive touch! At least she’s gone now.”
Angyar stared in wonder. “Where did you send them?”
Davon smiled wryly. “To lose themselves between dimensions in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. They’ll not find their way back, especially since vowing to Amahut they would do what I asked. He will hold them to their oath. They are forever lost.”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But as I listened to that tyrant boast, a plan began to form. And when he swore by Amahut—”
“I cannot believe he did that,” Angyar broke in. “He would never have done that for me, regardless what I said.”
“He deemed me incapable of conceiving any task that might harm him,” Davon returned. He sighed. “I am so tired, but don’t think I could rest here. They’re gone, I know, and yet this fire and the shelter they built make me feel they will return at any moment.”
“I certainly can’t rest here.” Angyar rose and walked around the log to the pine where Akira had tied Patuka. “We have my horse. We’ll ride double, only. . .” he paused and looked back at Davon. “I’m not sure where to ride.” He twisted his mouth. “On the one hand, I want to return to my camp near Rauwyar; but on the other, I feel we should ride to the castle, in case your brother is there.”
“Arris gave the castle as his intended destination, but who knows what may have diverted him.” Davon frowned. “I am curious: You indicated last night Chirubach had promised you something for identifying me.”
Angyar sighed and then poured out his tale. “I felt a weight lift off me when they went away,” he finished, “but I would have expected to be returned to my camp and to a time previous to my first meeting with the cumah. And Aron and Jovah should be there with me, only. . .” his voice broke. Tears sprang to his eyes. “I suspect they are still dead, along with my other countrymen and the Liedoran family.”
“I wish I had known,” Davon said quietly. “I might have somehow included that provision.”
“Nay.” Angyar shook his head and waved a hand. “He would immediately have suspected the trap and worsened our lot. Nay, it may be their time had simply come.”
“Perhaps Arris or the High Arganians can help,” Davon told him. He paused. “I cannot advise which way to go.” He pounded the rock, exasperated. “If only I had my horse. I would proceed to the castle, while you returned to your camp.”
“Let’s go to the castle,” Angyar said. “If Arris can help me, I would prefer such help sooner than later. And possibly he’ll need an extra sword to stand with him, which I will gladly provide.”
Davon nodded and rose. Angyar led Patuka to him and Davon saw, to his joy, his sword, bow and quiver full of arrows tied to the saddle.
They extinguished the fire and Angyar prepared to mount. He froze suddenly, eyes wide with fright.
“What is it?” Davon asked, but already he felt the invisible talons digging into the material of his coat where it overlaid his shoulders.
“Chirubach! He’s returned for us!” Angyar cried.
Before Davon could respond, both disappeared without a trace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Charles edged his way forward, peering through the bushes at the Little People stealing among the huts of Rama-Rauth in the predawn light. He, along with Bertrand’s company and the woodsmen, lay on their stomachs behind the shrubbery encircling the village, ready to open fire should their spies come under attack. So far, all remained quiet.
They had returned early to Rama-Rauth for a more thorough search for Davon and to see what Nedra might plan next. An eerie stillness hung over the place, as if the inhabitants had been placed in deep slumber. The Little People nosed among the huts and lodges, peering through doors and windows as they crept from one to the next. Each carried an axe, fully prepared to bury it into any challenger’s skull.
Charles watched as Myan approached one side of a deerskin-covered cone in the center. Judging from its size and ornate designs, he surmised it belonged to Nedra. Myan edged to the door and cautiously drew aside the deerskin flap just enough to see
in. Charles caught his breath when, seconds later, Myan entered. He emerged a moment later, glanced at two of his comrades who had just arrived, and shook his head. The trio moved on.
The first rays of morning light filtered through the trees. With nothing to report, the Little People rejoined their fellows. Myan headed straight for Marcos, who had taken a position between Charles and Bertrand.
“No sign of Nedra or the Nimbian,” he whispered.
“What about that weasel, Abuttska?” Bertrand growled.
Myan shook his head. “No sign of him, either.”
“Of course not.” Bertrand blew out an exasperated breath. “He needs the skirt to hide behind, and so fled with her.”
“What are the rest of the villagers doing?” Marcos asked.
“Mostly sleeping. The few sitting up seem dazed or in a trance.”
“Probably wondering what happens now,” Charles mused. He turned to Myan. “What was in that big tent?
“Thick piles of hides, a couple of pairs of breeches and a skirt, one tunic, a few ceremonial odds and ends. Otherwise, the place was empty.”
Myan tensed and peered through the foliage. “Someone’s about. Looks like he’s headed for the river. Yes, he’s carrying a spear and basket. Must be going to fish.”
“I see someone else just. . .wandering,” came Edwin’s voice from nearby. He sat back and then scooted closer to Charles. Hans appeared beside him.
Marcos rolled to his side and pushed himself up. “So Nedra has flown. I wonder where.”
“And what would have robbed her of power?” Edwin asked.
“Obviously she lost favor with her snake god,” Hans murmured, “and that means—” He caught his breath. “Someone else has gained his favor and now claims her throne.”
He sat up. “Last year when I visited Arris he told me Anhuapta had tried to entice him. I later advised him that the castle of fire existed. I’ll wager that Arris traveled there and Anhuapta seeks to install him, rather than Nedra, on the throne.”
