"Cobez, I'm not crazy," Shon said, struggling to loosen his arms from his sides. The wool wraps gave a little but not enough to allow him any freedom. Desperation tinged his voice. "I have to kill Naatos, all right? I'm not insane, but I have to face him."
None of the Ayamin spoke. Cobez fastened the wool bindings to the iron clips on either side of the chamber as Helbin lit the dark herbs in the clay bowls. "Calm now," Damur said, tightening the straps. "It's been an ordeal, but it will soon pass. You'll be back in your right mind soon enough, commander."
Shon's memory blurred over all that was said then. Briefly, the images from the visions overlaid his waking sight: bloodied children, lava weeping from powerful hands, Amelia's body broken on stone. Cobez spoke, but his voice vanished into the humming chaos. Damur became part of a bloodstained wall, his weepy eyes turning to stone. Helbin disappeared entirely as the blond-haired executioner appeared in his place. Shon blinked and shook his head, fighting to dislodge the images. They weren't real. But this room was. His friends. His comrades. They were real. They existed.
Abruptly the pressure and visions vanished, the fuzziness in his mind receding. Cobez stood in the doorway, his voice painfully clear. "I'm sorry she turned your head like that. Didn't think she was that kind of woman."
"Cobez, you have to listen—" Shon slurred the words. He vaguely recalled seeing Helbin draw Cobez away.
The door closed. Then it opened again and the phantom child entered, shrouded in the scent of pine, gladiolas, and wet leaves. She stared at him with wide blue eyes—clear blue, sharp blue—not blue like his. And somewhere in that haunted face was something of Amelia gazing back.
Shon clenched his eyes shut, cursing the specter away. But the girl remained standing in front of him, staring, only staring until she screamed, "Momma!"
The spiraling cycle of nightmares swept in around him, some seeming to play one over the other without ceasing. The heat and smoke sapped his strength, bleeding him of his resolve. No matter where he turned his head or sent his thoughts, the children and their tormentor were there, followed soon by Amelia, a fight, and death.
It continued on and on, the floor of his mind sticky with an endless growing pool of red blood that sometimes turned to flames and sometimes to acid. Dragons bellowed and roared. Sometimes the very stones turned into snarling dragons that tore at his face and growled at the children.
Abruptly, iron scraped against stone. Cool air blasted in, breaking the horrid heated grip and blowing away the smoke. Shon gasped with relief, leaning forward against the wool bindings.
Kepsalon slipped inside, thrusting a few metal picks into his pouch "My apologies for the delay, young Awdawm."
"I'm not crazy," Shon rasped. "I'm not."
Kepsalon unfastened the bindings. "Not yet, at least. But you aren't in particularly good shape." Sweat poured off Shon's body as Kepsalon stripped the wool away. His clothes were soaked through, his skin itching and aching. "Just sit there for a bit. It's all right." He pressed Shon back against the stone bench and darted out. Returning a moment later, he held up a large waterskin. "This will set you right faster than anything."
Hands shaking, Shon accepted the waterskin and gulped the water down. "Thank you." The first two gulps were so cold they made his mouth ache. But his blood, mind, and thoughts cleared almost at once, pounding stronger within him. For several minutes, he did nothing but drink, swallowing great sloshing mouthfuls of the refreshing liquid. When he finished, he leaned hard against the arm of the stone bench, panting for breath.
Kepsalon offered him a soft white towel. "It'd be good for you to rest a little longer. Give your legs a chance to regain their strength. Maybe try standing here in a bit."
"Why did you jump me like that?" Shon demanded. "I could have killed him and finished this whole thing."
"All you would have accomplished would have been your own death. Naatos was only mostly unconscious during his imprisonment. WroOth already bit someone's ear off. Two someones by now, actually. And if you think your presence wouldn't send Naatos into a raging attack, you know nothing of Vawtrians."
"Too late now though." Shon wiped his brow. Salty sweat still tinged his lips. He rubbed his face in the towel again. "But I'm not crazy."
"Most everyone's a little concerned you're going to go entirely loonalto on them, and I wouldn't be lying if I didn't admit that I had concerns myself. Although being kept in a place like this doesn't help matters much. Insanity isn't exactly something that can be sweated out, and adding in herbs and incense that have been known to enhance visions does not bring as much clarity as they would like to think. You know, you keep defying the odds in less than helpful and beneficial ways."
Shon scoffed, his tone a little more sour. His head cleared with the water, driving away the fog and slime of the nightmares. "Unhelpful and unbeneficial sounds about right for me now." Closing his eyes, he tried to shake the horror away. Chialao's laughter echoed inside his mind. "But I could fix things. I could make things work. Save Amelia. Stop Naatos. If Amelia and I only have a slim chance to be together, who says it can't work? We've got to give it a chance."
Kepsalon's expression grew sterner, the light in his eyes darkening. "There are five paths before you now, Shon. Two end in happiness and fulfillment, though exceptionally different in their outcome. One in obscurity and mediocrity, neither good enough nor bad enough to make a mark beyond what you have already done. And two, equally different but equally cruel, slim in likelihood but terrifying in import."
"I…" Shon swallowed hard. The dragon roars sent prickles of fear and discomfort up his spine. He could still hear them from his dream. He had to get out of this place before he did lose his mind. They sounded so real. "We should—"
"The likelihood of those latter two used to be much slimmer. As pale as an afterthought of ink. But so were other things. Other things with you. Surrounding you."
"Then Amelia and I—" Shon began again.
Kepsalon clicked his tongue sharply. "Stop it."
Shon lifted his arm wearily. "You said that things with little probability keep happening around me. So why not that?"
"There are other loves for you to find," Kepsalon said. "Loves that will leave you better than you are now."
Shon scoffed, finding that thought both unappealing and unlikely. "I have to fix this."
"There is nothing left for you to help Amelia with," Kepsalon said. "She has her own journey, and you have yours."
Footsteps scuffed at the edge of the cell door, then started to withdraw. Kepsalon whistled. "You might as well come in," he called out. "I know who you are."
A dark cloaked figure shuffled into the doorway. "I wasn't able to get here sooner."
Shon recognized the voice. "You're the Talbokian," he said. He pressed his hand to his head as the sharp ache returned. Kepsalon offered him more water.
The masked Talbokian eyed Kepsalon cautiously. "You're one of them. One of…" His voice trailed off. His dark eyes shifted uneasily beneath the mask.
"A Machat," Kepsalon offered.
"Yes." The Talbokian's gaze darted to Shon. "You're all right then? He's not…"
Shon frowned. "He's not what?"
"Your people are not dead," Kepsalon said.
"They've all gone missing." The Talbokian remained stiff. "Your kind had something to do with it. No one will say what you did."
Kepsalon smiled crookedly, as if he knew something amusing. "I promise you, friend, your people are safe. They have lost much and seen great sorrows over the years. It was little wonder that you and your kin chose to follow Naatos and his brothers. And there is much yet to be done by them and by you."
"Who is he?" Shon asked. He turned his focus back to the Talbokian. "Who are you?"
"My name is unimportant."
Kepsalon shrugged when Shon looked to him again. "It is not for me to betray a man's identity in such a case as this. As for you, Talbokian, you may join us, or you may continue the quest you set for you
rself."
"Is it either one or the other?"
"It does not have to be."
The Talbokian edged closer. "You're going after the Neyeb, yes?"
"Why do you want to know?" Shon asked, frowning.
"I owe a debt." The Talbokian cleared his throat, his posture drawing tighter as if he did not want to say more.
Kepsalon gave a slight shake of his head at Shon. "You are welcome to accompany us, friend. This has been a long journey for you indeed, but there is room for you among us if you wish to come."
The Talbokian remained cautious, his posture stiff. "They say the Machat cannot lie without great consequence. I would ask if that is true, but if you can lie without great consequence, then you can lie about this."
Kepsalon chuckled. "I'm glad you picked the course you did. There is much ahead. Now come along, both of you. Matthu is marching with the Ayamin to the fields before the temple. There are a few tasks we must complete before we join him there, and we'll have to go slow for a time while you get your bearings and your strength. Slower than either of you will like, I suspect. And once we get to a safe place, we'll get you some clothes and food, Awdawm."
* * *
Naatos stood on the edge of the aerie, arms folded over his chest. The Libyshans had destroyed his entire menagerie. The creatures' bodies lay in their cages, undone, unused. Most were accounted for. Some of the most deadly, the cabiza youngling, the hook-fanged spiders, and the sloe wolves were missing. But their cells and chambers had been set on fire. The heavy scent of turpentine mixed with lamp and kestrel oil permeated the blackened rooms. The fires had burned so hot that the metal bars had twisted and curled at the seams.
Many of his creations died in combat. But there was a difference in letting them have the opportunity to end their lives in strength and battle as opposed to trapped and helpless. There were so many other reasons to despise the Libyshans, better reasons in most respects. Yet this one stuck with him, burning slowly in the back of his mind.
Creatures that were remade became more than what they were, more powerful, more ferocious. It was only fitting that they be accorded the respect they were due. What was the point of being given new life, new strength, and new potential only for cowards to waste it? It was so like Awdawms to look for treacherous ways to uproot that which was stronger rather than face it as it should be faced.
A green sea dragon swooped down, the clouds fading around him as he drew near. AaQar had not taken this form in decades. Shining crystals and coiled spikes like seashells lined his spine and tail. There was some comfort in seeing his brother adopt old forms that had taken him so long to master.
AaQar circled the aerie as the tracker eagles flew around him. On his second pass, he turned inward, transformed, and landed beside Naatos. "I'll assume you haven't found her?" AaQar asked.
"No trace."
"Is that why you're waiting here?"
"The menagerie is destroyed," Naatos said. "All of them…"
AaQar nodded slowly, frowning. "I am sorry, brother. They deserved better."
"I was going to send the sloe wolves and the blue-eyes to track her. They're not as good as skin hunters or us, but…" Naatos half lifted his shoulder, annoyed at the emotion rising within him. "They could have kept searching for her while we dealt with these Libyshans." He released a long breath. "As soon as the attack started, I should have loosed them from their homes. At least then they could have had the opportunity to be at their greatest." He scoffed. "We should have attacked traditionally from the beginning."
"Who is to say what could have been except the Machat?" AaQar smiled slightly as he came to stand beside his brother. He too folded his arms, the long silver blue sleeves swaying in the faint breeze. "It was a good choice given the objective."
"If my strength was full, I would fill this world with such creatures the likes of which it has never seen," Naatos said.
"But your strength isn't full. Your viskaro is missing, and this battle, small though it may be compared to some, must still be fought. And once it concludes, we would do well to depart for Ecekom swiftly. We all need time in a suphrite river or the Sands of Efil. Even you. Even now that the huanna has passed, time counts down for you."
"There is time," Naatos said. He refused to acknowledge the implication about how the locking was affecting him.
AaQar scoffed. "Nothing eases your stubbornness, does it?"
"This country has gone too far," Naatos said. "I will not permit them to go unpunished and neither will WroOth. As for Amelia…" The uneasy concern returned, pressing higher within his mind.
"If you need to search for her, I can assume a form similar enough to yours that the Libyshans will not notice your absence," AaQar offered. "And with such deep cloud cover, WroOth can alternate between his forms and mine with ease. He'd probably enjoy the challenge."
"If I found her, I couldn't fly her back." Naatos paused, resenting even this acknowledgment of his weakness. Thanks to the locking and his inability to form a tolerance to Amelia, he could not shift if he was touching her. And that would likely worsen in the next few days if she was not reasonable. "I doubt she'll be in the mood for feshtashooning."
"You could signal. Or I can keep searching or QueQoa or WroOth. She isn't dead, and the Libyshans don't have her. But she could be wounded somewhere."
"There would be some trace. Some scent," Naatos said sharply. "None of us found anything this morning. I found nothing. WroOth nothing. Not this morning and not now. What about you? Have you found anything new in your last pass?"
AaQar gave a slight shake of denial. "I don't understand it any more than you. There have been no unnatural odors like the cinnamon and pepper she used before. All that has been done should not mask her so thoroughly."
"The Tue-Rah may have taken her again." The words tore from Naatos's mouth, the concern and fear crystallizing in that moment.
"I suppose it's possible," AaQar said. "If that is the case, then she is either already in Ecekom or returned to Eiram. Given what happened, Elonumato may have decided it best to remove her from this place. I cannot disagree with that conclusion either."
It was a terrifying thought because to act upon it meant that he and his brothers would soon have to leave, and they would have to leave without her. But if she was still here, wounded in some ravine or lost on some trail, then when she passed through the Tue-Rah, she would enter at a different point, perhaps minutes or days or weeks or centuries beyond or before them Even attempting to repair the Tue-Rah, neither he nor AaQar had been able to fix the damage, and they were even more uncertain than ever about how far ahead the Tue-Rah was set to send them.
The Tue-Rahs had to be restored, which meant Amelia would return to him. She had an uncanny ability of finding them and they her. Except now. This whole battle would set far easier with him if he knew where she was and that she was safe. At this point, he'd be willing to listen to all of her arguments, lectures, reasonings, and dramatics as long as he knew where she was.
Though perhaps it was for the best that she wasn't here now. Knowing what had happened to the creatures in the menagerie after she had tried to care for them during his imprisonment would only wound her more. A small mercy perhaps. She attached much too quickly to them for her own good.
AaQar sighed as he stared over the plain of high waving grass. "I am going to finalize the packing and finish putting things in order. We shouldn't enter Ecekom without sufficient supplies, especially given what was done. I haven't found any ways to repair the Tue-Rah without restoring the others, and I'll assume you don't have any ideas either."
"Fools." Naatos glared. How could Elonumato have even considered returning Awdawms their full gifts and permitting them and the other races to contend as Paras? It was ludicrous. Again and again, Awdawms proved themselves insufficient and ill-suited for their original purpose and gifts.
AaQar waited a few moments longer, the silence building between them. "So you don't intend to search for her further
?" AaQar asked.
"We finish the battle, destroy the city, then we resume the search. If she isn't here by nightfall, we'll…" Naatos paused, dipping his head forward. "We'll decide then." He pinched his brow, fervently hoping he wouldn't have to choose between searching for her in Ecekom and leaving her behind.
AaQar gripped Naatos's shoulder briefly, then left. The tracker eagles shrieked and called above, several darting into the cloud bank. WroOth and QueQoa were likely returning again or at least nearby. Naatos shook his head, trying to loosen the malaise and anger that rooted him here. There was much yet to be done, and if it was all to be accomplished, he had to make the most of the time he had. And when he did find Amelia again, he hoped she was ready to be reasonable.
39
March
Amelia kept to the forest, furious. The wind carried the sound toward her. She tried to ignore the dragon bellows and the scent of fire and smoke. Yet, sooner than expected, it ceased. A long emptiness followed. Amelia's shoulders tightened even more, and the back of her neck itched. She wanted to look back, but she refused. It wasn't any of her concern.
One final roar punched through the atmosphere, a powerful bellowing conclusion. Then it was gone. One of the bruins yawned. Another twitched its ears. The smell of dragon did not seem to bother them at all.
The easy swaying gait of the bruin might have lulled her back to weariness, but the rage that boiled in her now prevented that. Unlike horses, bruins had two paces: walk and charge. Charging was used only for attacks and escapes, and it was not wise to alternate them in their pacing like horses. But there was no hurry in her arrival now. So what if it took her longer?
Princess Reviled Page 37
