“Just once. Just for a moment.” Mirari turned and began to climb the stair. “But then the basajaun chased me away and I never went back.”
“The what?” Lorenzo started up the stair after her, not sure he had heard her correctly. “What chased you?”
Chapter 23. Taziri
The wind screamed against the western face of Pic Blanco. Taziri shuffled along the narrow trail behind Lorenzo with one hand on the rocks to her right and the other hand clutching the high collar of her coat around her face. At first the wind would slice through her clothes, penetrating her heavy leathers and wools in defiance of all reason and stinging her skin with the freezing air or worse, the freezing rain. And then the wind would batter her like a ram, shoving her off balance and slamming her into the rock wall.
She wore her aviator goggles over her eyes, which protected them from the stinging ice but required constant wiping and cleaning or else they would quickly fog up with steam and then crust over with frost.
Whenever she passed into the lee of some stone pillar or blasted tree, Taziri would glance back at Shahera and Dante, each time finding them as miserable but as dogged as herself.
Her mind ran over and over the last week, trying to sort out where everything had gone wrong.
What was the first wrong decision? What could I have done differently?
And every time she asked, she offered up a hundred new answers. It was Kenan’s fault, or the weather, or the Espani.
I could have flown farther, or landed closer. I could have tried to force the Halcyon into a near-stall banking maneuver to force it to turn south.
I could have gone south when Syfax first suggested it, or again later when he went that way with Kenan.
I could have gone to the authorities.
I could have gone back to the coast.
Could have.
Should have.
No.
She swallowed the guilt and doubt back down into her empty, growling stomach.
No, I need to focus on here and now. I’m not stupid or careless. Every decision I made was reasonable at the time. Every one of them.
But when she looked up at the masked figure leading them through the storm high into the Espani mountains, it was hard to see how any of this made sense.
How is this reasonable?
So she focused on Yuba and Menna. She called up their faces, their voices, their laughter. She remembered the last night they had all been together.
No, not that night.
Maybe another night from last month, a night when there had been no arguments about all her time away from home, no sullen looks, no hurt feelings, no loneliness or confusion. A good night. A quiet night at home with her family, safe and happy and warm.
Ahead of her, Lorenzo had stopped and was staring back through the howling sleet at the trail behind them. He leaned down close to her to speak into her ear. “We’re being followed.”
How is that possible?
She peered back but all she saw was a dark gray sky and a dark gray mountain and a veil of flying ice in between. “I don’t see anything.”
“I’ve seen him twice now. You go on with the others. I’ll bring up the rear.”
“All right.” She trudged on up the trail, following the dark flapping coats of their masked guide. Mirari seemed to be in her element here on the mountain, sure-footed and able-bodied. The strange girl climbed the treacherous, icy paths as easily as any goat and occasionally she turned to call out in a loud clear voice where there was a good handhold or a dangerous footing.
Another half hour of hiking brought them around to the north face of Pic Blanco. The stinging sleet softened into a heavy snow that fell in endless waves of perfect whiteness, obscuring the entire world. She felt as though they’d died and gone to some no-place between heaven and earth, a frozen wasteland that God forgot to fill with color and warmth. And still Mirari trekked on and Taziri followed her, angling down the rocky slope.
Taziri dragged her boots through the thickening snow, trying to ignore the thought that every step forward was another step they would have to take back again. She was also trying to ignore the thought that all of this effort was being spent to help a near stranger to collect a rock for his holy relic collection when her next step fell on hard, bare gravel. Looking down, she saw that all the ground ahead was bare. The snow was falling as thick and silent as ever, but the boulders and pebbles and dirt stood dark and hard against the soft white world around her.
She trudged through a few yards of soft mud and soon found the earth growing drier and firmer underfoot. Behind her, Shahera and Dante stumbled out of the snow drift and clawed their scarves away from their mouths.
“Did I miss something?” Dante asked. “Is it spring or did we just wander into an undiscovered circle of hell?”
“It’s a miracle.” Shahera pulled her hat and scarves off her head and shook her hair free. “It’s like another world, a secret garden where magical spirits dwell.”
The snow continued to fall but it vanished before it could kiss the warm earth. A sultry haze hung above the dry ground. Mirari stopped and pointed down the slope. “There. If you keep going that way, you’ll find the fire gold.”
Taziri glanced back for Lorenzo, but the hidalgo had not yet arrived. “How will I know it? What does it look like?”
“It’s gold. About the size of your head, I would say.” The Italian mask muffled her voice slightly, but Mirari’s wide eyes flashed behind the porcelain face. “You don’t have an axe.”
“You think we’ll need one to get the stone?”
Mirari’s eyes narrowed but her painted smile did not change. “I think you’ll need one to survive.”
“Why?” Taziri looked hastily around but there was no sign of anyone or anything dangerous. No trees or grass, no birds or mice. Just earth and stone. What was that word she used? “What is a basajaun?”
“Something that will not let you take the stone.”
Taziri pulled up her left sleeve and released the gun barrel in her brace. The weapon snapped up with a click and a hiss of compressed air. She set about loading a shell. “Well, if it’s human, this should scare him away.”
“And what if it’s not human?” Dante asked.
“As long as it’s not a snow bear, a gunshot or two will send it running.”
The Italian frowned. “I’ve heard stories about snow bears.” He knelt down and picked up a jagged rock. Shahera picked up one as well. Alonso picked up a handful of stones about half the size of his fist.
Mirari leaned back against a dark gray boulder. “I’ll wait here for your friend, the Don.” She produced a small hatchet and a long knife from inside her coat, which she held tightly as she crossed her arms. “Go on, if you still want to.”
Taziri stared up the dry path to where it ended in a wall of swirling white. “We can’t stand around waiting for him. We’ll start losing daylight eventually and I don’t want to be caught on this mountain in the dark. Come on. Let’s find his rock.”
She led the way down the slope, gravel crunching under her boots. Dante and Shahera followed close behind her. The Mazigh pilot scanned the mountain side.
A lump of gold as big as my head. That’s going to be heavy.
Ten minutes later a cascade of pebbles drew her attention to the trail behind them and Taziri saw Lorenzo shuffling sideways down the steep path. The hidalgo shrugged at her. “I waited at the last narrow pass, but our shadowy friend never came. Maybe he turned back.”
“Or maybe he fell.” Dante grinned.
“Or maybe he’s still out there, stalking us,” Shahera said.
“Or maybe he was never there to begin with.” Taziri pointed at the chaos of rock and earth below them. “We need to find your stone and get off this mountain as quickly as possible. We won’t survive a night on that trail.”
The five of them spread out and picked their way down the slope from ledge to ledge, peering into cracks in the earth and under fallen sto
nes.
“This is pointless!” Dante yelled. “Your precious stone is probably buried a hundred feet underground, if it even exists!”
“Mirari said she saw it here,” Alonso said. “So it has to be on the surface.”
“Oh, right. The crazy girl saw it, I forgot.”
“She’s not crazy!”
“Alonso!” Lorenzo sighed. “Let’s just focus on the search right now.”
Taziri continued down, trying to angle across the mountain in the direction that the masked girl had pointed. The ground underfoot grew hotter. And then she saw it. A great bowl had been cut or beaten out of the face of the mountain and in that depression, on a wide flat rock that glowed a dull red, was a golden lump shining with a bright golden light. “There! There it is!”
She started toward it, hopping lightly to avoid scorching her boots any more than necessary. The others called back to her and to each other. “Which way? She found it? Who did? Down there! Oh, I see her!” Their voices echoed across the huge stone bowl, reverberating up into the bright noon sky.
And a bloodcurdling roar answered back. Taziri stumbled against a boulder and grabbed it for support. It was warm to the touch. The sound of the roar grew and grew, like the screams of a thousand madmen and hungry lions and enraged elephants. When it stopped, its echo screamed on all across the mountain, and when the echo faded the following silence was horrible. Taziri looked wildly all about her.
What could scream like that? A beast? Just one or many? And where is it? Where? Where?
With her right hand on the trigger of her brace-gun, she jogged out into the open, descending the almost smooth slope of the bowl. The golden stone sat on its glowing red table only a few dozen yards away.
Just a little farther. Almost there now.
To her left she saw Lorenzo and Alonso rushing down toward her with a strange harness dangling between them. As they approached, she saw that the heavy leather straps were reinforced with steel bands on the outside, but on the inside was an arrangement of ceramic tiles and studs to hold the stone. When she asked about them, Lorenzo claimed they wouldn’t shatter from the heat. Taziri hoped he was right.
The three of them dashed to the edge of the red rock and spread the harness between them. Working without speaking, they shuffled right and left, stretching the leather straps over and around the golden stone and when the hidalgo nodded, they wrapped their ends down and around and lifted the stone from the ground in its new cradle of steel, leather, and clay. Taziri peered at the lumpy golden mass in all its jagged imperfection. Despite the heat, the stone showed no sign of melting, and when she reached her hand toward it, the sensation of the heat did not grow any stronger. The only heat she could feel radiated up from the rock on which the skyfire stone had rested.
Alonso and Taziri held the laden web for a moment while Lorenzo carefully inspected the straps to be certain that only the ceramic plates were touching the stone, and then he closed the clasps and tied the handles shut. The entire packaged was lowered into a heavy canvas sack, which Lorenzo rolled over his shoulder. He smiled and nodded, and took the first step back up the slope.
A second roar boomed across the bowl, and here at the bottom of it Taziri felt the pure bestial rage behind the sound piercing her bones. She turned to look just as Lorenzo stumbled and dropped his precious cargo. The hidalgo straightened up and reached for the sack, but the canvas was already blackening and tiny flames licked its seams.
“It’s burning the bag!” Alonso pointed at it.
“No, it’s not the stone. It’s the heat from the ground, the gravel, the pebbles.” Lorenzo lifted the bag a second time and resumed his climb.
Taziri looked back over her shoulder and what she saw made her fall to one knee on the burning stones. She struggled up and pointed across the bowl to the figure on the far edge. “Look!”
It was shaped like an enormous man with massive shoulders and no neck. Long shaggy white hair hung over every inch of its body, and above its bearded face two huge dark eyes peered out beneath its heavy brow. From its giant fist hung a long wooden club, but when the creature shook its club over its head, Taziri saw the long row of metal teeth shining on the edge of the weapon.
“Dear God,” Lorenzo said. “It is a basajaun. They exist.”
“A what?”
“Run. RUN!”
They all turned and scrambled up the steep, rocky slope as fast as they could. The ground grew steadily cooler the higher they climbed, and step by step Taziri noted the falling snow as it began to reach her eyes, and then her hands, and finally her feet. She wanted to turn, she wanted to look back, but the gravel was so loose and the patches of ice and snow so slick that she didn’t dare take her eyes off the path in front of her. She heard Lorenzo yelling to the others to run, to make for the trail, to go on without them.
And for a brief moment, she hoped that she would reach the top of the slope first so that the hidalgo would be between her and the monster.
If someone has to die, God, let it be someone else. Let me get home to my little girl. Let me see her face again, please!
But then she thought of all the thousands who might die if the holy stone fell into the wrong hands, and how much this Lorenzo had done for her, a stranger, and she hated herself for that moment of selfish weakness. Planting both feet on solid ground, Taziri grabbed the trigger of her arm-cannon and turned to look for the beast.
The basajaun was only a dozen yards behind them, just a few seconds away. It had followed them up the slope, running as silent as a cat, and now it loomed over her with its huge saw-bladed club raised to strike.
“No!” She screamed as she pulled the trigger and felt the recoil of the shotgun snap her arm back as she fell to the ground. The blast hit the creature in its left arm and the monster screamed at the woman as a dozen tiny red rivers began streaming from its fur.
Taziri kicked and clawed her way back up the slope and when her feet finally picked her up, she began fumbling for a second shell.
“Alonso!” Lorenzo threw the canvas bag to his student and drew his espada. He dashed down and lunged at the creature, stabbing it twice in the right arm, and then slashing it across the leg.
The monster lowered its club as it cradled its huge arms around its injuries, moaning and screaming. It stumbled back a step, and then another. Lorenzo lowered his sword and backed away up the mountain. Then the giant howled. And from the distant white slopes, another howl answered.
Taziri shoved a new shell into the gun strapped to her arm. Her elbow was throbbing and her hand felt cold and weak, but she could still lift and aim, and that was all that mattered. She pointed the barrel at the beast.
“No, don’t.” Lorenzo took her hand and pulled her up beside him. “It’s injured. It’s not following. Let’s just go.”
“But there’s another one out there.” She pointed in the direction of the second howl.
“All the more reason to leave.” Lorenzo pushed and she obliged by hiking up to the trail. They found the others with Mirari, standing in the ankle-deep snow.
Taziri breathed a cool breath and enjoyed the absence of the sultry vapors of the mountain side as she folded up her tall collar and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She shoved her gun barrel back down to click shut in her brace and then slid her sleeve back down to her wrist.
Mirari, her face unreadable behind the slightly amused expression of the Italian mask, waved them back onto the trail with her drawn hatchet and Dante and Shahera followed close behind her. Taziri gave one last look at the wounded creature on the slope below, and then started walking a few paces behind Alonso with Lorenzo bringing up the rear.
The second basajaun leapt from a stone ledge just above and to their left. The huge mass of flesh and hair smashed into Alonso and sent the young man sliding down the icy slope, slipping and rolling away from the trail toward the featureless wall of whiteness where anything might await him. The canvas sack tumbled away, down and down through the deep snow until
it lodged beneath a spear of rock. A sudden blast of wind lifted the curtain of falling snow for a moment and Taziri saw the sharp outline of a cliff edge just below the fallen diestro.
“Alonso!” Taziri dashed after the young man, her whole body bent low to the ground to grab at the sharp teeth of the rocks around her to keep herself from falling out of control. She could see him struggling to roll over and sit up, his hands clinging to a long lip of rock jutting out of the snow.
“Alonso!” someone screamed.
Taziri froze and looked up behind her. Lorenzo had drawn his sword again and was holding the second creature at bay, but he wasn’t the one who cried out. To her right, Taziri saw a figure in dark fur racing back up the trail toward them, a hatchet and long knife flashing in her hands. Mirari leapt up from the trail from one rock ledge to another to gain some height and then fell on the basajaun’s shoulders with both her blades.
The beast-man screamed and flailed left and right, shaking the girl through the air, but she clung to her weapons as her legs swept through the falling snow. Lorenzo shouted and slashed at the basajaun’s hands to keep it from reaching back to grab Mirari.
Taziri looked down at Alonso. He was straining to haul himself up over the rock lip, kicking to get his boot onto solid ground. She scrambled and slid down the slope, skidding from rock to rock until her feet landed on Alonso’s handhold. Grabbing his coat, she helped him up and over the edge, hauling him up to his feet. “You okay?”
He nodded and together they began crawling back up the slope. Taziri’s gloves were soaked from groping through the snow for solid handholds and her fingers began to tremble and tighten. All except the two little fingers of her left hand, the numb ones that never recovered from the fire.
Above them, Lorenzo and Mirari had leapt back from the wounded basajaun. The masked girl had left her knife in the creature’s shaggy back, but she still held her bloody hatchet in her gloved hand. The hidalgo yelled over the howling wind, “Alonso! Taziri! Can you make it?”
Alonso had one hand pressed tight to his ribs and his steaming breaths were huffing in short, quick bursts. Taziri tried to measure the distance back up to the trail. It’s not that far, and there are plenty of rocks to grab, plus the snow is hard-packed but not icy. “I think so!”
Halcyon (The Complete Trilogy) Page 59
