Agis closed his eyes and let out a long breath of disappointment. “Now what are we going to do?”
Sadira shrugged and gestured toward the pathway.
“This must lead somewhere. There’s as good a chance that we’ll find Nok there as anyplace.”
With Sadira’s help, Agis rolled the unconscious gladiators onto their backs and laid them side by side, securing their weapons beneath their belts. He grasped them each by the wrist and closed his eyes, then opened a pathway from his power core into their bodies. He pictured them becoming clouds and rising off the ground of their own accord.
Once the two gladiators began to float, Agis stood. Being careful not to lose contact with their bodies, he looked down the trail and said, “Let’s go, and fast. I don’t think I’m going to last more than a few hours. Besides, we should be as far away from here as possible when the halflings wake.”
With Sadira in the lead, they walked until midafternoon without incident. At last, the valley broadened into a wide basin and the trail left the edge of the roaring river.
The half-elf suddenly stopped and stared at her feet.
“It’s about time we rest,” Agis gasped thankfully. “I’m so tired I can hardly tell the trail from the forest any more.”
“I didn’t stop to rest,” Sadira said, pointing at a small strand of brown string stretched across the trail. “Our friends have set up a surprise.”
She started to step over the string, but Agis called, “Wait!” He nodded to Neeva’s trikal. “Probe the ground on the other side,” he said. “That tripwire is too obvious.”
The half-elf raised an eyebrow. “My, aren’t you the cautious one?”
Nevertheless, she took the trikal and did as Agis suggested. A mat of woven fronds, covered by a thin layer of dirt, collapsed and dropped into a deep pit with a muffled crash.
Sadira swallowed, then faced Agis. “It doesn’t look safe to walk the path any longer.”
Agis was about to answer when a halfling stepped onto the trail behind Sadira. “Look out!” he cried. The noble dropped the two gladiators’ wrists and grabbed Sadira. As he pulled her aside, he heard the twang of a bowstring. Something sharp bit into his neck.
In the same instant, the astonished sorceress stumbled over the tripwire. A loud crack sounded overhead, then a log crashed down out of the trees and swooped toward them.
The noble stepped forward, intending to shove Sadira to safety. Instead, his knees buckled. As he fell, he spun around in time to see the log strike the young slave girl in the head. He reached out, but found himself falling slowly backward, almost as if the air itself had grown thick. Agis realized that the poison had taken hold of his mind and that he was dropping into the pit they’d uncovered. The last thing he saw before he disappeared into the earth was Sadira’s limp body collapsing into the underbrush.
FIFTEEN
THE LIVING BRIDGE
SADIRA’S HEAD POUNDED AS THOUGH IT CONTAINED a dozen drummers, all beating the same primitive rhythm. Her ears ached, her temples throbbed, even her teeth hurt. Her eyes were too sore to open, and she felt sick to her stomach. She was so dizzy that she didn’t think she should be standing, yet, to her surprise, that was exactly what it felt like she was doing.
The sorceress tried to lift a hand to her aching head and found it an impossible task. For some reason she did not understand, she could not move her right arm. She tried with her left and discovered that it, too, was immobilized. There was a terrible, sharp pain in both wrists.
Fearing that she was paralyzed, Sadira opened her eyes. As her vision began to clear, she saw that the sound of the drums came from outside her head, not inside. Ahead of her lay a small meadow covered by soft moss, tinted pink by the light of the afternoon sun. At the edges of the clearing stood a dozen halfling men dressed in breechcloths, their eyes round and glazed as they beat a feral cadence on tall drums.
In the center of the meadow, a mound rose high into the air. Sadira squinted at the structure and, despite her blurred vision, saw that it had been built entirely from large blocks of gray rock. A steep stairway ran up the center, but otherwise the structure was perfectly smooth, with only tiny seams where the blocks met.
Atop the mound sat a small house of white marble, with a smoking copper brazier outside the door. Next to the brazier lay the weapons and satchels that Sadira and her friends had brought into the forest. In front of the pile stood Anezka and a wild-looking halfling male. He was covered with green paint, and a crown of woven fronds ringed his tangled mass of hair. In his small hands, the man held Ktandeo’s cane.
Sadira’s heart sank. After using the cane at Agis’s estate, she had realized that it was far more dangerous than she had suspected. Still, the sorceress did not like seeing it in the hands of a forest-dwelling savage. She and her companions would need it to battle Kalak.
Looking to the bottom of the mound, she saw that a single oak tree grew there. The majestic oak looked oddly misplaced in a meadow surrounded by dancing conifers and frond trees, but its isolation had not prevented it from growing up straight and strong.
Scattered around the oak’s trunk were dozens of halfling men and women, all holding wooden bowls. Some had adorned their arms or legs with brightly colored feathers, but otherwise none of them wore anything except loincloths. They all watched the top of the mound with an air of anticipation.
“You’re awake.” The voice came from Sadira’s left.
“I feel like I’m dead,” Sadira answered shakily, turning her aching head toward Agis.
A few feet away, the noble hung on a stone slab that had been planted upright in the ground. His hands and feet were lashed into place with leather ropes running through a set of special holes. At the bottom of the slab was a large, semicircular catch basin, stained brown with old blood.
“What happened?” Sadira asked. Her head had finally cleared, and she realized that she hung on a similar stone. The pain in her wrists was caused by her bindings.
Agis told her about their capture. When he explained how she had stumbled into the tripwire as he tried to save her from the poisoned arrow, he added, “I’m sorry about your head.”
“She’s alive and conscious,” said a woman voice. “There’s nothing to be sorry about in that.”
Sadira turned her throbbing head to the right and saw that Rikus and Neeva were also hanging from stone slabs.
“It was Anezka who led us into the ambush, not Agis,” agreed Rikus. “Maybe she did it because of that business with the spider—”
“And maybe not,” interrupted Neeva. “I doubt we’ll ever know, but now isn’t the time to worry about it.” She tilted her chin toward the granite mound. “I think we’re finally about to meet our captor.”
Sadira looked in the direction Neeva indicated. The green-painted halfling stepped off the mound into midair. Instead of falling, he slowly drifted down toward the sorceress and her friends. He carried Ktandeo’s cane in both hands, like a full-sized man would carry a fighting cudgel.
Behind him, Anezka climbed down the steep stairs. When she reached the bottom, a half-dozen halflings with feathered armbands joined her. One of them handed her a wooden bowl, then they walked toward Sadira and the others.
As the floating halfling settled to the ground in front of Sadira, the slave girl saw that a large ring of gold hung in his hawkish nose. Bands of hammered silver ringed his ears, and a large ball of obsidian dangled from a chain around his neck.
The halfling looked at Sadira with an air of indignation. “Where did you get this staff?” he asked.
“Who wants to know?” Sadira responded.
The halfling stared at her menacingly, obviously shocked at her challange to his authority. When Sadira met his gaze evenly, he said, “I am World Tree, whose roots bring forth fruit so that my people may eat. I am Rain Bird, whose wings shower the land with water so that my people may drink. I am Time Serpent, whose tail is the past and whose head is the future, so that my people will li
ve forever. I am Nok, the forest.”
Nok raised the cane. “Now, tell me how you came by this staff.”
“A man named Ktandeo gave it to me.”
Nok narrowed his eyes. “I made this for Ktandeo. He would not have given it to an impudent young woman.”
“It was his dying act,” Sadira said, regarding the halfling in a new light. Anyone who could make such an item was no ordinary savage. “He gave me the cane so you would know we came in his name.”
The halfling’s posture grew less menacing, and he closed his eyes. “Now I know why the moons have been weeping. Ktandeo was a worthy friend of the forest,” he said, touching one hand to the gold ring in his nose and the other to a silver ear-band. “He brought many fine offerings.”
Anzeka arrived with six halflings wearing feathered armbands. They stood behind Nok, patiently holding their bowls in both hands. Rikus and Neeva fixed angry glares on Anezka, but said nothing. Agis also remained silent, studying Nok with a thoughtful expression.
“Ktandeo sent us for his magical spear,” Sadira said.
“I have been growing a spear,” replied the halfling, meeting Sadira’s gaze with warmer eyes. “I cannot give it to you.”
“Why not?” the sorceress asked. “Isn’t it ready?”
Nok glanced over his shoulder at the oak tree. “It’s ready … but you are not worthy of it.”
Assuming he meant she was not strong enough to throw it, Sadira pointed her chin at Rikus. “He’s the one who will use the spear. Not me.”
Nok regarded the mul with an appraising eye, but shook his head. “There is more than strength to throwing a spear,” he said. “The aim must be accurate, the heart true. Without Ktandeo to guide his hand, the hairless one will fail.”
“What do you mean?” Rikus bristled. “The spear hasn’t been made that I can’t handle.”
“You cannot wield this one!” Nok snapped.
“You haven’t seen him fight. How is it that you know this?” Sadira asked.
“Because you hang on the Feast Stones,” the halfling replied, tapping the cane against the basin at Sadira’s feet. “If you were worthy of the Heartwood Spear, you would not be there. Your blood would never yearn to fill these basins.”
“Feast Stones!” Rikus exclaimed, tugging at his bindings.
“We came as friends!” Agis objected.
“You’ll become part of the forest. What could be a greater gift for one’s friends?” Nok asked, smiling sincerely.
“Anezka didn’t bring us here to be eaten!” Neeva growled.
“Of course she did,” Nok said. “You are her offering.”
“Offering!” Rikus cried, looking to Anezka. “That’s not why you brought us here, is it?”
Anezka nodded, giving the mul a reassuring smile.
“Nok, my friends and I would be honored to join your forest,” the sorceress lied. “Unfortunately, Ktandeo sent us for the spear because the need in Tyr is great.”
“What need?” the halfling asked.
“Kalak has a small pyramid made of obsidian,” Agis explained, his eyes fixed on the halfling’s pendant. “He also has many obsidian balls, and a tunnel lined with obsidian bricks. Do you know what this means?”
Nok’s eyes opened wide. “It is too soon,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
Agis went on to tell the halfling about the memory he had seen inside Tithian’s mind and about the king’s plans to seal the stadium during the gladiatorial games.
When the noble finished, Sadira asked, “Now will you give us the spear?”
Nok shook his head. “You couldn’t even reach me without being captured,” he said. “How can you hope to stop a dragon?”
“Dragon?” Sadira uttered. Her companions echoed her astonishment. “We’re talking about Kalak, not the—” Sadira stopped herself, the implication of Nok’s question striking her with the force of a half-giant’s club. “Kalak is the Dragon?” she gasped.
“No. There are many dragons throughout the world,” the halfling said. “Kalak is not yet one of them.”
“But he’s about to become one,” Sadira said, her mind racing as she began to understand the wicked nature of Kalak’s plan. “That’s what the ziggurat is for.”
“Yes,” Nok agreed. “He needs it for his changing.”
“The time to strike is before he changes!” Neeva exclaimed. “Give us the spear before it’s too late.”
Nok regarded the woman thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I cannot entrust the Heartwood Spear to someone who is not worthy.”
“We’re worthy!” Rikus growled. “I’ve won more than a hundred matches.”
Nok seemed unmoved. In vain Sadira searched her aching head for another approach that would make the halfling listen. The more she learned about Kalak, the more he terrified her and the more determined she became to stop him.
“If you were willing to help Ktandeo against the sorcerer-king of Tyr,” Agis said, “it must have been because you feared for your forest.”
The halfling nodded. “One dragon—the one you foolishly call the Dragon, as if it were the only one—already claims Tyr, as it does everything from Urik to Balic. When another appears, one of them will be forced across the Ringing Mountains.”
“And what does that mean to the forest?” Agis pressed.
“The same thing it means to Tyr: annihilation,” Nok answered. “The dragon that passes over these mountains will devour every living thing it finds: plants, animals, and people. It will allow nothing to escape.”
“Why?” Sadira asked.
“Dragons grow more powerful when they kill,” Nok answered. “And dragons covet power above all else, or they would not be dragons.”
The four companions remained silent for a time. Nok also remained quiet, patiently studying them as if waiting for them to perform some customary act of obeisance. At last, Agis looked toward the dome, where the group’s possessions were piled, and said, “We apologize if our previous gifts were unworthy, and we asked for them back. Instead, we offer our lives in defense of the forest.”
“We will stop Kalak before he comes across the mountains,” Sadira added.
Nok considered the offer, then said, “I am still not certain that your gift is worthy of the Heartwood Spear, but we shall see.”
The chief turned to the halflings gathered behind him and spoke a few words in their own tongue. With crestfallen expressions, they set aside their wooden bowls and stepped around behind the Feast Stones to undo the lashings.
Once the four companions were free, Nok led the way toward the granite mound. The halflings in the area parted, jabbering to each other in peculiar, nasal words punctuated by birdlike shrieks and squeals. Nok paid them no attention until he stood at the tree itself, when he silenced them with a harsh command.
With the meadow quiet, Nok cradled Ktandeo’s cane in one arm, then opened his other hand and touched the oak. He spoke a few phrases in his own language. The tree’s boughs shuddered, and Nok’s fingers melded into the bark. Slowly he pushed his hand deeper, until his arm had disappeared clear to the shoulder.
Nok closed his eyes and stood next to the oak in silence. His lips were tense and turned down at the ends, giving him a stoic and slightly remorseful expression. He remained perfectly still. Sadira wondered if he was having second thoughts. At last, the chief opened his eyes, then looked at the tree and spoke to it in a conciliatory tone.
Another shudder ran through the oak’s boughs, and a terrible, sonorous creak sounded from its core. Leaves began to rain down on the people below. To Sadira it seemed that the bark paled to a lighter shade of gray. Nok slowly stepped away, pulling his arm from the tree as he retreated.
In his hand, the halfling held a thick spear colored deepest burgundy. The shaft tapered to sharp points on both ends, with a grain so fine it was hardly visible. Sadira thought at first that the weapon pulsated with magical energy, but when she looked directly at it, the impression faded. It seemed no more
than a normal, finely crafted weapon.
Nok stepped away from the oak, sending a few halflings to fetch the party’s belongings. Motioning for his prisoner to follow, he led the way to a small trail winding into the gloomy depths of the forest. As they traveled along the path, Sadira realized the halflings had carried her and her companions a considerable distance from where she and Agis had fallen. In addition to the dancing conifers and bulb-trunked fronds, the trail was lined by immense, slanting hardwoods. These trees had waxy, ruby-colored leaves and ripe, sweet-smelling fruits with the shape of daggers and the color of sapphires. The constant drone of insects underscored the shrill whistles and chirps of the jungle birds, and the shadows were so thick that, at times, Sadira felt as though she were walking through UnderTyr. Presently, the rumble of a nearby river began to drown out the sound of the insects and birds.
At last they stepped out of the forest. Before them, a narrow suspension bridge spanned a rocky gorge so wide that Rikus could not have thrown his axe across it. The bridge was made of flowering vines woven together to form a V-shaped channel. A densely braided cord of the woody plants served as the walkway, two smaller cords as handrails, and a plethora of bud-covered vines as netlike walls. A round boulder blocked the other end, so it was impossible to tell if the trail continued on the other side of the canyon. The whole scene had an eerie red hue, for the setting sun hung in line with the gorge, bathing it in fiery light.
Nok stopped at the edge of the bridge. Without putting down Ktandeo’s cane, he hefted the Heartwood Spear and threw it. A concerned cry escaped Sadira’s lips, but the spear sailed across the gap as though borne on a cushion of air. It sank half its length into the trunk of a ruby-leaved tree growing behind the boulder on the other end of the bridge.
Nok faced the four companions and used Ktandeo’s cane to gesture across the gorge. “There is the spear you seek. To prove you are worthy of it, you must pull it from the tree.”
After studying the bridge, Rikus said, “This thing doesn’t look sturdy to me. Maybe we should go across one at a time.”
The Verdant Passage Page 24
