Path of Honor

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Yohuac had untied himself and managed to dismount. He now slept beside Baku, his scalp and brows pale against his dark skin. Reisil built a small camp, unwilling to go farther that night. Her shoulder flamed in agony, and she knew she could do nothing until she shoved her arm back into place. She wandered back into the trees, finding what she was looking for in a moss-covered juniper. There was a branch sticking out on the side, and she grabbed it with her good hand. Taking a breath, she used the branch to heave herself around, smashing her shoulder against the tree trunk.

  She screamed.

  She woke on the ground, Baku staring at her, his head resting on the ground inches away from her face. As she opened her eyes, he rose and walked away. Fair enough. She’d watched him suffer. She’d made him suffer. He ought to get a bit of his own back.

  She staked out the horses and built a small fire, heating a pot of water. She made a broth for Yohuac, mixing into it several restorative medicines, floating bits of bread on top. He woke and drank it and soon fell asleep again.

  She watched him sleep with gritty, burning eyes. There was no way she could heal him. In unleashing the power of the armband, she’d overloaded herself. The invisible part of herself that channeled magic was raw and bleeding. She looked down at her hands. She and Yohuac would have to heal naturally.

  Despite Reisil’s misgivings about being so close to the wizards’ stronghold, if indeed it still existed, they remained in the hollow for three more days. Yohuac slept for most of that time, waking only to eat. Baku hunted and remained unrelentingly silent. Reisil made little effort to speak to him. She gathered wood and dug roots for their meals. Saljane brought back squirrels and rabbits for roasting. Reisil’s arm improved, and the stiffness in her body wore away, her lungs gradually allowing her to breathe more deeply. But she could still not draw on her power. Those wounds remained throbbing and exposed.

  ~I think we need to find somewhere more secure to camp. Until Yohuac is better. Until I can use my magic again. Then

  we go to Mysane Kosk, Reisil said to Saljane on the morning of the third day. She was cleaning the saddles. Across the hollow, Baku lay with his head between his front claws, Yohuac sleeping in the curve of his tail.

  ~They come to Mysane Kosk. It was Baku.

  Reisil started at his unexpected intrusion, bewildered. ~Who?

  A fleeting pastiche of faces flittered through Reisil’s mind: Juhrnus, Metyein, Kebonsat, others—many, many others.

  Reisil clenched the rag in her hand. What had happened? Then she smiled. They were alive. She hadn’t been sure. She’d been afraid even to think about it.

  ~Then we’ll have to hurry. But where can we go? We need shelter. And I want to get farther from the stronghold.

  ~There’s a cave. Near a river. Good hunting there. I will show you.

  ~Thank you. Relief swept Reisil. She felt too exposed here. If the wizards hadn’t been killed, if Tapit hadn’t died in the rockslide, then he’d be coming soon. Unable to draw on her magic, she would be helpless against them.

  Baku stood and yawned hugely. He bent into a long, groaning stretch. Reisil smiled. He looked like a cat. A big, scaly, ferocious cat. He looked nearly back to normal. She wished the same could be said of Yohuac. He still had not spoken much. She wasn’t even sure he really recognized her. What if Uldegas had hurt him irreparably? Among all the other wounds, she’d discovered a seam along the back of his head and down his neck. The wizard had not bothered to seal the wound magically. Which meant that he didn’t want to waste energy on someone he figured would die soon—or he meant to open it again. Reisil scowled. She hoped he had died. Painfully.

  They departed the next day, traveling slowly so as not to tire Yohuac more than necessary. He hardly woke enough to stay on his horse and slept whenever they stopped. It took four days to reach the cave, which was located high on a ridge above a lush river valley.

  Reisil settled Yohuac on a pallet of grass and pine limbs before leading the horses down to the valley to graze. Baku agreed to keep watch on them, well content to sun himself on the rocky bank. Saljane brought back two fat rabbits. As the sun dropped lower and the mouthwatering scent of roasting rabbit drifted through the cave, Reisil knelt beside Yohuac.

  His eyes were open.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better.” He coughed, and she poured a cup of water, putting her arm around his thin shoulders to help him up. He drank, and she poured him more. “What happened?”

  Reisil hesitated.

  He smoothed his fingers over the bristles springing from his head. With horror he looked at his hands. “What did they do to me?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “We were looking for you. We knew where the stronghold must be—Baku could sense the magic. But we couldn’t find any sort of entrance. We ran into a trap.” He shook his head. “So obvious. We should have known. I couldn’t hear Baku at all.” His face contorted, and he sat up.

  “Baku!” He closed his eyes and slumped, his face crumpling. “He is here. I can hear his voice.”

  Reisil put her arms around him, holding him as he wept.

  “It wasn’t supposed to—I can’t.”

  “Sh-sh. You’re both all right. You’re both free.”

  “No. I can’t do it. I can’t be ahalad-kaaslane.”

  “Then you cannot,” Reisil answered, but wondered how he’d survive losing Baku when at last Baku gave up on him. She thrust the thought away. It was his choice, and he must bear it. “But now you must eat and regain your strength.”

  “Wait. There’s something I have to tell you. What I should have told you before.”

  Reisil squatted back down on the ground. “What?”

  “I told you about the competition to be Ilhuicatl’s son, do you remember?” Reisil nodded. “What I didn’t tell you is that the nahualli blood is failing in Cemanahuatl. Every year fewer and fewer are born. But the nahuallis arrived at a solution. If a nahualli was made the son of Ilhuicatl, then his seed would be spread throughout the tribes. Not only that. They believe that a nahualli winning the competition would have greatly enhanced powers. They hope these would be passed along as well.”

  Reisil’s brows furrowed. Where was he going with this? Why was it important to tell her this now? “There are more men like you—who have magic?”

  “A few others. The nahuallis did not want to put all their wishes in one basket. But I have been thinking.” He struggled up on his elbows. “If I did win the pahtia, I might have the power to help you.” He dropped back with a sigh, arms trembling from the strain of holding himself up. “I told you I was untrained. But I am not without skills.”

  Reisil stared down at him, her mind spinning. “You can use your magic,” she breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  He opened his eyes, his dark gaze earnest. “It is a secret I have kept my whole life. I was never supposed to practice magic.”

  “And now?”

  “Nothing matters if Cemanahuatl is destroyed. And if I do not help you, I fear it will be.”

  Reisil nodded, her head beginning to ache. She looked away, needing to get out into the night, where she could think. “Dinner is almost ready. I’d better get the horses.” She started to get up and was halted by his hand curving around her neck.

  Reisil met his dark gaze again, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. “What else?”

  Suddenly Yohuac leaned close and kissed her, his lips warm and soft. His tongue slipped inside her mouth. Reisil froze for an instant and then pressed close, opening her mouth against his. The kiss went on, and then finally he pulled away, his breath coming in short gasps.

  Reisil swallowed, touching her tongue to her lips, tasting him. “What was that for?”

  “Juhrnus . . .”

  “Juhrnus? What does he have to do with it?”

  “He said I should have kissed you when I had the chance.” He stretched back out on his pallet with a deep sigh.

  Reisil sm
iled bemusedly, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. She went outside, pausing on the ledge outside the cave. The sky overhead sparkled with stars. Below, the river glimmered like a silver ribbon in the moonlight. Crickets chirped and night birds twittered. The smell of woodsmoke and roasting rabbit mixed with the scents of the evergreen forest blanketing the surrounding hills. She drew a deep breath, pulling her cloak close against the night’s chill. In the west, clouds bundled on the horizon—thick, black thunderheads. Flashes of lightning flickered across the massed cloud bank like bolts of magic.

  A fist of foreboding closed around Reisil’s heart. Time was running out. And how she was going to protect Mysane Kosk and save Kodu Riik from its destructive magic, she couldn’t begin to guess.

  ~But we’ll not do it alone, will we? Kebonsat, Metyein, Juhrnus—they’re coming to help us.

  She touched her fingers to her lips, still feeling Yohuac’s kiss. She smiled, somehow her heart lightened. With a sigh, she swung down the path, her step springy.

  Reisil and Saljane return in

  Path of Blood

  Read on for an exciting preview of

  Diana Pharaoh Francis’s next novel,

  coming from Roc in 2006.

  Tapit wasn’t dead. Reisil drove her sweat-drenched gelding across the scree. She felt a sickening lurch as the rocky slope began to roll away. Ahead, Yohuac’s horse—formerly Tapit’s—bounded onto the firm slope and disappeared into the trees.

  Indigo twisted and stumbled, his haunches sliding as he scrabbled on the tumbling rocks. He neighed: a fearful, braying sound. Reisil leaned forward, catching at the rolling scree with a net of magic. She gasped at the pain, the magic flowing through her like a river of broken glass. It wasn’t as bad as it had been after she’d freed Yohuac and Baku and destroyed the wizards’ stronghold. Then she couldn’t even think of her magic, must less use it. Her lips pulled into a triumphant grin as the rocks firmed into a stony carpet. Indigo lunged to safety with a groan. Reisil reined him in and swung around.

  Tapit appeared from behind an outcropping. He wore gray robes, as he had when he’d taken Saljane hostage. Reisil tensed and let the magical net unravel. The freed rocks thundered down the escarpment between them. In the same heartbeat, Reisil reached out to Saljane.

  ~Where are you?

  The image of a glittering snow-covered peak whirled across Reisil’s mind’s eye, followed by a pastiche of blue sky, trees, and Baku’s reptilian shape.

  ~With Baku. Mysane Kosk is not far. Saljane paused. He comes?

  There was an unfamiliar thread of fear stitching through Saljane’s mindvoice. Reisil’s teeth ground together. It was the only thing Saljane feared: Tapit and his ilgas and losing her tie to Reisil.

  Reisil glared across the churning stones. The wizard wore his hood down around his shoulders. His features were sharp and austere beneath his bristle of dark hair. She felt his dour gaze on her like a coal-hot brand. What did she read there? Hate? Greed? Revenge?

  Her hands tightened on her reins. Indigo snorted and took a step back.

  ~He’s here.

  Saljane clutched at Reisil’s mind with iron talons.

  ~Watch well, she urged, her voice sounding thin as a frayed wire.

  ~I will, beloved.

  Reisil held her magic ready. She couldn’t let him drop an ilgas on her. If he did, she would be helpless, like meat on a golden platter. Infinitely worse, she’d lose her tie to Saljane. The prospect was unbearable. Never again would she let Tapit separate her from Saljane. Her fist knotted. How much she would love to drive it down his throat! But she didn’t dare. Not now. Too much was at stake and she couldn’t afford to lose it.

  She eyed the scree. It wouldn’t hold him long. Tapit was relentless. He’d driven the fugitives from their river valley haven a week ago, and it seemed he never needed to rest. But his horse was as tired as Indigo, and it appeared the wizard had outstripped his companions. He was alone now. That might give Reisil the advantage she needed.

  “Don’t stop running now. I was looking forward to a better fight than this,” Tapit called through the dusty haze left behind by the slide.

  “You haven’t caught me yet. And don’t forget I destroyed your stronghold,” Reisil retorted.

  “The stronghold still stands, with only a handful of us lost. But you shall see for yourself soon. The others are eager for your return.”

  His words sent a tremor through Reisil. The stronghold still stood? It wasn’t possible. She’d seen . . .

  She’d seen the valley cave in when she’d driven a spear of pure power deep into the mountain’s core. She’d seen rubble falling over the small group of defenders as the ground leaped and buckled. She’d assumed the stronghold had been crushed. But then again, she’d thought she’d killed Tapit, too. Fear slithered like a snake in her gut. What if he was telling the truth?

  “You mistake me for a moon-eyed child,” she called back, refusing to let him see her doubt. “I am not foolish enough to believe you.”

  “But foolish enough to run away from us, and taking such prizes with you.”

  “Again you mistake me. It was the wisest thing I’ve ever done. Second only to becoming ahalad-kaaslane.”

  Saljane’s fierce trill of pleasure rippled through Reisil.

  “Your pet. Yes, that was a mistake. To be one of us, you must be rid of it.”

  “To be one of you?” Reisil repeated incredulously. “How can you still think I would be? I killed a hundred of you at Vorshtar. I destroyed your stronghold.”

  “You tried to destroy the stronghold,” Tapit corrected. “But your actions only affirm what you are. A true wizard. Soon you will know that.”

  Reisil shook her head. “You’re mad.”

  “We shall see soon enough.”

  Anger flamed in Reisil and power crackled around her fingers. She caught herself. She wondered how far Yohuac had managed to get. The longer she drew this out, the safer he was. “How do you think you’ll catch me? I know about the ilgas. I won’t walk into that trap again.”

  Tapit smiled. It was the first time Reisil could ever remember seeing such an expression cross his basalt features. Fear screwed through the marrow of her bones.

  “Not that trap, no.”

  Reisil recoiled, then a small smile stretched her lips. Tapit had revealed his weakness. He loved the hunt, the struggle. Don’t stop running now. . . . He wanted her to sweat, to fear, to fight against him. He relished it. And that meant he wasn’t going to even try to use his power against her in a head-on battle. That wasn’t sporting. He wanted to match wits, to finesse her, to play at strategy and tactics. And she was happy to oblige. It gained time until she could squash him like a mosquito.

  And she’d begin right now.

  ~Baku?

  The coal-drake’s awareness bubbled in her mind. His presence was muted, as if he had to push through a dense, fibrous mist to reach her. The effects of the magic leeching from Mysane Kosk. It was the reason he hadn’t been able to speak with their friends who camped near the destroyed city. He couldn’t tell Juhrnus they were coming, or ask for help. But it also meant that Tapit would have a harder time tracking them. He sniffed out their magic footprint somehow, and soon it would be smothered by the tide of magic rolling out of Mysane Kosk.

  ~I have an idea, but I need your help. Can you do it? she asked Baku, picturing for him what she wanted him to do.

  The coal-drake did not respond immediately. Reisil got the impression he was considering whether he wanted to help her. She held her breath. He had every right to resent her. If only she had learned faster; if only she could have saved him from the wizards sooner. But she hadn’t known what to do and instead she’d been forced to watch silently as Kvepi Debess tortured Baku, slowly draining his power. Sometimes she had even helped. It was the only way to discover the key to unlocking Kevepi Debess’s spells. It wasn’t until later that she could tell Baku, and by then their delicate trust was ruined.

  ~Can you
do it? she repeated gently.

  ~It will be difficult. The magic thickens here . . . I will try.

  ~Hurry.

  Reisil waited, staring not at Tapit, but his leggy roan mare. The animal tossed her head, her ears twitching. Then suddenly she leaped into the air, twisting and bucking. Tapit gave a startled yell and fell onto the scree. The hillside began to roll again. The mare came down and exploded into a gallop, disappearing over the ridge in seconds. Reisil smiled, watching Tapit, who was rolling down the slope like a bundle of rags.

  ~She won’t soon trust him again, came Baku’s smug voice.

  ~Well done, Reisil said, clicking to Indigo and turning the dun gelding into the trees after Yohuac. The trick had worked better than she hoped. Tapit was too distracted with failing to bespell the mare to stop. By the time he did, he’d have a good walk to retrieve her, and then he’d have to catch her. Reisil doubted the mare would come willingly. It gave them a little breathing room.

  “A very little,” Reisil murmured.

  Yohuac was waiting just inside the trees. He smiled crookedly at her scowl. His scalp gleamed white through the stubble of his hair. Scars showed livid on his head and neck. There were plenty more hidden by his clothing.

  “You shouldn’t have waited.”

  “He means to have you,” he said darkly, his smile fading.

  “Tapit means to have all of us. We’d better get going before he catches his horse.”

  Reisil took the lead, angling down a steep ravine and following it up across a ridge. Clouds thickened above and as evening approached, a heavy, solid rain began to fall. She looked back at Yohuac. He had begun to list to the right, his hands clamped around the pommel, his shoulders bowed. He couldn’t go on much longer. Reisil scanned the wood slope, angling up along the ridge. They would have to stop and rest, and hope Tapit didn’t overtake them in the night.

  As darkness fell, the two found a traveler’s pine and took shelter under its sweeping boughs, staking the horses out in a nearby clearing.