Lakhoni

by Jared Garrett

  Then they were off, trying hard to keep the dogs in some kind of order. There was some improvement, but even that first dog, whose name he had learned was Kree, at times disregarded Lakhoni’s commands to stay close. Lakhoni found himself at the back of the group, trailing the dogs, with Falon a few paces to his right and helping him urge any stragglers along. Wondering briefly where dogs got all their energy, Lakhoni decided that when they got to the fields he would work with two or three different dogs. He would learn their names and make sure they got to know him and acknowledge him as their master.

  Hours later, the three dogs he had chosen, Kree, Feb, and Gar, had made progress in that they would bring his stick back and hold somewhat still, but when they got around the other dogs it was as if all they had learned flew out of their dog minds. Lakhoni had noted early on that all of the dogs were males and guessed that they ranged in age from just a few months to nearly two years. The older dogs were somewhat less inclined to listen to him, but the younger ones constantly bounced with barely contained energy.

  On the way back, Lakhoni decided to stay ahead of the pack and try to convince the dogs to follow his lead. By the time they were entering the gates of the city, the dogs dashing and dodging wherever they chose, he gave this up.

  “They’re doing better.”

  Lakhoni glanced toward the voice. Balon, his wide face dripping with sweat, grinned at him. “You’ve got some kind of magic,” Balon said.

  “No,” Lakhoni said. “No magic.” He gestured at the chaotic animals. “Obviously.”

  “But they’re not miles ahead of us, or causing problems everywhere,” Balon said. “Usually by now we’ve got shop owners and citizens shouting at us to keep them under control.”

  Lakhoni snorted a laugh.

  “Really. When you’ve got the king’s dogs tearing a pig haunch down and running off with it, you can’t get mad at the dog. So you get mad at the dog-boys.”

  “Dog-boys?” Lakhoni had an image of a creature that was half canine and half human flash through his head.

  “That’s us,” Balon said, almost proudly. “It could be worse.”

  Glancing to his left at the flovils, the city blocks in the poor district, Lakhoni had to agree. A peculiar stench permeated even the stones of this area, reminding him of human waste, drying animal skins, and burning hair—the stink had no single source. It just hung over the entire district. The poverty-stricken residents of the district carried loads of bricks, or hauled baskets of some kind of bread or other food to sell near the plaza, or just wandered aimlessly.

  Balon, noticing where Lakhoni had been looking, pointed with his chin. “Any of the boys in there our age would kill to have our job.”

  “Regular food?” Lakhoni asked.

  Balon nodded, kicking at a dog. That one was Chel—Lakhoni could tell by the black patches that circled three of its feet. Chel had apparently found a smell that intrigued him. With a sound that was half indignant huff and half bark, Chel raced to catch up with the pack.

  “And you never know,” Balon said, “if you’re big enough, you could be a guard when you’ve got your adult height.”

  “True,” Falon said. “Shelu started in a kitchen or something.”

  “Shelu?” Lakhoni had stopped listening closely, deciding to instead figure out a way to train the dogs faster, but the sound of the unusual name got his attention. “Who’s that?”

  “Head of the king’s raiding parties,” Balon said quietly, glancing around and sending a small stone skittering between the feet of a man carrying a massive pile of cloth on his back.

  Cold tingles washed from Lakhoni’s scalp to his neck, like tiny insects made of ice falling from a nest above his head. He fought back an insane urge to tackle Balon and sit atop him until all Balon knew spilled from his lips.

  “What raiding parties?” he asked, unable to hide an eager tremor in his voice.

  Balon stepped closer, shushing Lakhoni with a gesture. “Not so loud.”

  “What?”

  Speaking into his chin, Balon looked around furtively. “Everyone knows it’s going on, but nobody really knows why.”

  “What? What’s going on?”

  “Shelu and his warriors.” Balon kicked at another dog who had found an interesting scent.

  They were nearly back at the temple compound. Lakhoni wanted to shake Balon to make him talk faster.

  “They go out, on the king’s orders I guess, and raid our own villages and Usurpers’ villages too. Rumor is that they’re looking for something.” Balon stood up taller, clearing his throat. The compound had just come into view two blocks ahead.

  “What are they looking for?”

  Balon shook his head. “Later. But sometimes they bring people back, make them slaves.” With that, Balon jogged ahead, slapping Chel on the rump to hurry him along.

  Lakhoni had to remind his feet to keep moving. Then he was running to catch up with Balon. “Where? Where do they keep them? The people they bring back.”

  Balon grimaced at Lakhoni, confusion filling his face. “Lakhoni, relax. Fathers, you’d think . . .” The stout boy’s face went slack, his eyes wide. He cast another furtive glance around. “Who are you?” he whispered, his voice harsh.

  “I told you.” Lakhoni racked his brain, trying to force a quick lie. “But I’ve heard about people, like young girls, being taken from villages near mine. I think I knew one of them.”

  Suspicion still evident on his face, Balon shrugged, opening his mouth to say something, but at that moment, a loud, deep tone burst from the temple compound. Instantly, Balon, Falon, and Cho burst into motion, grabbing dogs and herding them toward the wall of a nearby building. Confused, Lakhoni followed suit. He wondered at the desperation that had suddenly and completely infused the other boys. In less than a minute Lakhoni found himself on one knee, each arm holding a dog tightly around its neck. Cho was sitting on the biggest dog, a huge beast named Amro, and clinging to another to force it to stay put. Balon and Falon each sat on a dog and held two others.

  Lakhoni looked toward the compound as another tone, this one louder, filled the air. “What is that?” he asked, tossing the question behind him at the other boys.

  “King’s gong,” Falon grunted through his teeth. “King’s coming out. Have to clear streets.”

  The king! Lakhoni’s heart hammered in his chest. “Gong?”

  “Big round, metal thing,” Balon said, his voice tight with strain. “You really don’t know anything.” He snorted a laugh.

  “He’s coming!” Cho hissed.

  From his vantage point about two hundred feet away from the compound gate, Lakhoni watched as ten soldiers marched into sight. They took up positions on either side of the gate, five soldiers to a side, as if forming a corridor. The gong sounded again, the deep, melodic tone filled the air with a tense vibration.

  Mounted soldiers, these with more intricate sashes across their torso, followed, urging their horses through the human corridor. In the middle of the group rode the man who had to be the king. His hair glistened long and full, his robes glinting with something that caught the light. From this far away, Lakhoni thought they had to be some kind of precious stones.

  The mounted procession wheeled their horses to the right, in the direction of the south gates. The soldiers on foot took up a fast jog, keeping pace with the trotting horses.

  They were going to pass right in front of Lakhoni and the others.

  “Keep them quiet,” Cho said, his voice tense. “Don’t move.”

  A rhythmic beat from the horses’ hooves hit Lakhoni’s ears, a trembling in the earth detectable at the same time. Lakhoni couldn’t tear his eyes away from the face of the author of his village’s destruction. That face shone wetly, as if the king had splashed water on himself. It extended down his neck and to what chest was exposed through the intricate, colorful robes the man wore. Why was the king oily-looking? Was there some deliberate reason for making himself appear shiny?

  �
��Head down, country boy!” Balon said, his voice barely detectable over the drumming of the horses’ hooves and running men.

  Lakhoni lowered his eyes and head, his gaze traveling down the king. Fancy rings adorned his fingers. A sword—it had to be at least half as long as Lakhoni’s height—slapped steadily against the king’s right leg.

  The noise of the approaching party increased and Lakhoni fought to keep his gaze down as they passed directly in front of him. Suddenly, the rhythm of the horses broke and dissipated into random thumps—no more than ten feet away from him. Then silence, save for the snorting of horses and whining of dogs.

  “Ah,” came a voice that was so familiar Lakhoni almost glanced up in spite of himself. It sounded like his father! “My dogs.”

  Nobody moved or said anything. Lakhoni could feel the surprise and anxiety emanating from the boys behind him.

  “And how are they?”

  Silence followed the question. All Lakhoni saw were restless hooves and booted feet. Surely Cho would say something.

  “Answer the king, curs!” A gloved hand smashed into the back of Lakhoni’s head. One of the dogs he held growled, the rumble easily felt under Lakhoni’s hand. Resisting the urge to rub away the sudden pain, he looked up.

  The king’s stare hit him with nearly physical force. Lakhoni swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away. He knew that face. “I asked how my dogs fared.” The familiar voice was the king! His expression tight, with strangely wet-looking skin glinting off the sun that was nearly gone behind the mountains, the king stared Lakhoni down.

  Lakhoni wondered why the other boys were not answering. “Um.” He swallowed. “They’re fine?”

  The king’s face tightened. “Is that all?”

  Pain blossomed in the back of his head again as the soldier smacked him. “Answer the king, cur!” The dog growled again. Lakhoni hoped the animal wouldn’t attack, trying to defend him. That would not help matters.

  Why were they doing this to him and not bothering the other boys? Lakhoni fought his anger down, forcing himself to look at the king again. “They’re learning, sir.”

  “Good,” the king said. “I expect them to be ready to join me in the hunt soon.”

  Lakhoni nodded, resisting the urge to look around and see what the other boys were doing.

  The king gestured to the soldier standing next to Lakhoni. Lakhoni tightened up, preparing for another blow. It didn’t come. The hollow, heavy noise of the horses trotting filled the air again.

  Making sure all of the soldiers were gone, Lakhoni spun, releasing the dogs. “Why didn’t you answer? How am I supposed to know what to say?”

  Balon and Falon’s smirks became loud laughter as the two exchanged a look. Cho grinned too. “You did fine.”

  Lakhoni rubbed the back of his head. “Fine. I did fine.” He moved to catch up with the dogs that were already crossing the plaza toward the compound. A thought came to him, so he slowed to allow the others to get nearer.

  Falon came into view on his right as dogs dashed past, yelping and playful again.

  “Those soldiers,” Lakhoni said. “The ones on the horses with the fancy sashes? Who were they?”

  “Honor guard,” Falon said, whistling to try to get the dogs’ attention. Balon passed on the right, jogging. “Special soldiers. Probably the best in the world.”

  “Oh,” Lakhoni said. “What’s an honor guard?”

  “The king’s personal soldiers. They’re with him all the time.”

  Disappointment struck hard, although Lakhoni told himself he should have known the king would have special protectors. The next question came before he could stop himself. “And his face?”

  Falon cast a glance around before answering. “They say it’s the light of the Fathers. A gift for the ruler of the true people.” Falon’s voice had dropped into a somewhat reverent tone.

  A gift? Light of the Fathers? He tried to think of something to say as silence filled the space between him and Falon. It looked like he was covered in oil. “Shiny,” he said. And I must be mistaken. Why would the king look like my father? Lakhoni decided it must have been the hair—his father had worn his hair long also.

  “Hurry up, toads!” Cho yelled from the gate. Balon had gone through with the first of the dogs.

  Lakhoni and Falon broke into a jog, gathering the last few dogs and herding them through the gate. They picked up speed to stay with the dogs.

  As they entered, Lakhoni took a closer look around him. Just through the entryway was a large courtyard that stretched as wide as the compound. Lakhoni guessed it was at least a hundred paces wide. The path through the compound gate led to the main entrance of the temple. The temple had four sides. This front side was unique in that it had a large entrance at the ground level. On either side of the entrance began a line of huge stone blocks, each at least ten feet long, running from the ground all the way up the sloping wall to the top of the temple, as if a giant had wanted steps on the outside of his house.

  The blocks were so massive that the front entrance to the temple was almost a tunnel, with shadows growing thick and dark before a person even made it into the temple proper.

  Lakhoni slapped a dog’s hindquarters to urge it along as they trotted through an alley formed by the high wall of the first level of the king’s temple on the right and the compound wall on the left. They started to pass in front of a long, low, stone building built off the wall of the compound which made the alley more narrow and caused them to bunch up tighter.

  Noticing the huge stones that made up the visible wall of the actual temple, Lakhoni marveled. “How did they build this?”

  Falon answered. “They say they had the power of the First Fathers.”

  Briefly, Lakhoni wondered if this power of the First Fathers was like what he had seen at the brick fields: round logs making the shifting of heavy loads easier and plenty of men to do the work. But maybe they really did have some kind of power helping them.

  Balon had already reached the end of the temple and had started to herd the dogs into their pen.

  “And what’s in this building?” Lakhoni asked, indicating the long building they were leaving behind as the alley grew wider.

  “That’s the slave barracks.”

  Lakhoni nearly fell into the dirt.

  Alronna.

  Chapter 42

  Guardians

  Silence reigned but for the sound of steady breathing and the faint noise of dogs whimpering in their sleep. Heart beating wildly, Lakhoni picked his way across the room, carefully stepping over the other dog-boys. He gently eased the door open, peering out, hoping nobody was around.

  No movement. The stars and quarter-moon provided plenty of light for him to see that the area immediately around the servant and dog quarters was empty. He slipped out, praying that Alronna would be there and that he could find her without raising any alarms. Three weeks of waiting for an opportunity to explore the slave barracks had shown him that he needed to make his own opportunity.

  As barbaric as the Separated were, Lakhoni had to mentally thank them as he melted into the path the shadows provided. He focused solely on his movements now, exerting absolute control over his body. He made no sound; his actions careful and controlled. He felt and heard the movement behind his left shoulder at the same time. Lowering smoothly into a crouch, he swiveled his head, his eyes mostly closed so any light would not glimmer off of them. A soldier approached, clearly on patrol with the bored and ritualistic way his gaze roamed the alley between the temple and its wall.

  Lakhoni held still and imagined he was blending into the darkened stone of the wall. The soldier trudged by, his long knife slapping gently against the back of his right hip.

  Lakhoni rose, moving each muscle carefully and allowing his blood to flow smoothly again. He saw no more patrolling soldiers. The compound was big enough that there had to be more than one patrolling the grounds. Surely there were more guards.

  He made it all the way to the slave bar
racks wall before he ran out of shadows. The door was four strides away. But there were no shadows to keep him invisible.

  Confused at the lack of guards, Lakhoni stepped out of the shadow. He just barely caught the movement above him and melted back into the shadow, resisting the urge to move quickly.

  Now he understood where the guards were. He hadn’t noticed before, but the temple had several exterior levels. He’d seen the stair-like shape of the building but, for some reason, he hadn’t realized that on three or four of those “steps” people could move around outside the temple. He guessed that the balconies extended all the way around the temple and that there had to be entrances to the balconies from the building itself.

  And there were guards on each level. He counted four on this side of the first balcony, with movement up higher indicating more guards on the others. He had been lucky not to have been seen. Thank you, Gimno. Maybe lucky and maybe well-trained.

  He stayed motionless for a long time, trying to detect a pattern to the movements of the guards on the temple balconies. Two more soldiers passed right in front of him, neither giving any indication that they had seen him.

  Now.

  Lakhoni stepped smoothly around the corner, hugging the wall of the slave barracks. He tried the door, expecting it to be somehow locked in order to keep the slaves in the building. It swung freely and Lakhoni had to quickly stop it from moving too far and getting attention. How do they keep the slaves from running away? He wondered about this as he slipped into the building. Then he thought of the guards patrolling the temple grounds and the soldiers stationed at the gate. Maybe there was no need to secure the building; there was no way for slaves to leave the temple grounds without being caught.