Ammey McKeaf

by Jane Shoup

  “The palace should have never been opened to the public,” Zino stated for the third time within the hour.

  “Did the public execute four guards and two maids?” Mehr challenged. “Did the public know the palace well enough to—”

  Marko held up his hand, tired of the argument between men. “Enough!”

  “If I may offer some practical advice,” Zino said in a low voice.

  To Mehr’s dismay, Marko allowed it.

  “Station men at a close enough proximity to the border that we may see the culprit when he returns for the money, but far enough away to not be detected.”

  Marko nodded, seeing the logic of it.

  “I will see it done, if you will allow it,” Zino offered.

  “Yes. Go.”

  Mehr’s jaw clenched. The abduction had Zino’s scent all over it. Why could Marko not see it?

  “Follow him,” Marko said grimly to his cousin when Zino had gone. “Make certain of what he does.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There was nothing but flat, parched ground. No shade, no water. There was no color in the world anymore; nothing but bleached sand, pale sky and clear waves of heat that radiated in the painfully dry air. Ammey’s skin burned, even the skin beneath her clothing.

  It was remarkable how close the mountains loomed. How could they be so close, so covered in lovely blue-white snow that melted into springs of fresh water, and yet there was not a drop of water in sight? It was if this area had been cursed. It was cursed and so was she. She prayed continually, but no relief came. Had she been saved from the assassins only to die in this way? Decapitation would have been a kinder fate.

  She ran out of water, but kept the last canteen hung around her neck because it took too much strength to pull it off. Her swollen tongue felt huge in her mouth. The horse finally stumbled, collapsed and was unable to get up. Ammey walked on until she, too, collapsed.

  She woke when it was dark and heard a dry, barking sound that chilled her blood. She raised her head and looked. Just as she’d feared, several pairs of yellow eyes glowed from a short distance away. She sat and clapped her hands weakly. “Not dead yet,” she rasped in a voice she did not recognize. The creatures darted at the clap, but did not go far. She got to her feet slowly and began a stumbling walk. She had no idea what direction she walked in. It was merely an effort not to die.

  ~~~

  Zino had a bad feeling. They were past the time when Jade’s severed head should have shown up and it was the cue for all the rest of what was to take place.

  “What are we going to do?” Salvo fretted.

  “Shut your mouth, that’s the first thing,” Zino replied quietly but distinctly. “The walls have ears.” He paced, realizing they needed a backup plan. It had been foolish not to have one in place already. Perhaps the Cortez brothers had lost track of time or lost their way. Perhaps they’d fought over the woman and killed each other. He did not know and he did not care, so long as she was dead.

  One of his most loyal packs was keeping watch to the southeast. Any sign of Jade, and they would kill her, although it was highly unlikely she was alive. The desert of Uerad was a brutal place. For centuries, convicted criminals had been sentenced to die there. They’d called it being ‘exiled,’ but no one survived the heat and lack of water, not to mention the vrines, the vicious creatures native to Uerad. It was said the Leviathans trapped and ate the wild animals, but it was hard to believe, even for Leviathans.

  Perhaps the brothers had fallen prey to the vrines. That made more sense than anything. But it still meant he needed a backup plan. The question was, what, besides Jade’s actual remains, could pass for her remains? Damn it, he’d wanted her head returned. There would have been no doubting her demise then. When the answer dawned on him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Of course,” Salvo exclaimed when Zino relayed it. “Brilliant. I’ll see to it.”

  ~~~

  Ko carefully leaned around the edge of the cliff to reach a fat bunch of ripe laurelberries. The berries were the secret ingredient to her ale. They only grew on the cliffs above the cool foothills of the Blue Mountains, but they were worth the two day excursion she took every year at this time to collect them.

  She picked all the berries it was possible to reach and then surveyed her basket and decided she was satisfied with her yield. She retreated to more safe footing and looked out over the sweeping vista. It was a strange view. Directly below was lush, green valley at the base of the foothills, but beyond that was the gray wasteland of Uerad. There was no gentle transition between the two, it was a line.

  Hassim, her uncle, had attempted to cross the Blue Mountains in his youth. He only managed to summit the first peak, but he claimed it was a life changing experience. From that altitude, he’d been able to see the entire northern countryside. The most remarkable thing, he shared with anyone who would listen, was that the desert of Uerad was in the shape of a giant fist. Clearly, it had been cursed by some ancient god.

  Ko was no deep thinker, like Hassim, but she did know that no one traveled through Uerad, which is why she couldn’t comprehend the sight below her at first. It looked like a woman of the Nos and behind her was something else. Something large and flowing, mostly clear and yet possessing a definite form. Ko shielded the sun’s glare from her eyes and stared.

  The form was in the shape of a woman, but many times the size of a human. It hovered behind the struggling female in a protective posture which shielded much of the sun’s brutality. As Ko watched, there was movement in the form. It pulled its arms inwards in a graceful gesture before pulling them apart, opening white light in the sky.

  Ko cried out and lurched backwards, blinded by the light. She fell to the ground, breathing hard. She clutched at the earth around her, needing to be sure of its constancy. Her vision came back slowly and, with it, was the conviction she was to help the woman of the Nos. Before she started down the mountain, she saw that the woman had made it to the green shade of the valley. She’d fallen to her hands and knees and was crawling toward the brook.

  Ammey cupped her hands and drank the cold water. She had never tasted anything as good in her life. When she’d had her fill, she splashed water on her badly burnt face and then collapsed onto her side, exhausted from holding death off one step at a time for she didn’t know how long. One of her hands dangled in the cool water.

  She dozed, but jerked awake when she felt the ground shaking. She rolled onto her back and looked up at a leviathan female observing her. A leviathan meant she was in Oisenbant, which meant she had gone from one death trap to another. Ammey tried to sit and hold up her hand to show she meant to harm, but then the thought of it struck her as comical. She meant no harm? The leviathan woman was at least three feet taller and twice her width.

  She laughed for a moment, but it sapped her strength. She gave up, settled back and closed her eyes. If she was to die here and now, it would be appreciating water and shade. In fact, appreciating all of the earth, other than Uerad, and all the wonderful things she had experienced in her life.

  Ko didn’t know what to make of the woman. Had the heat of the desert driven her mad? She was blistered from the sun and she had been beaten. Her front was covered in rusty-brown dried blood, and one of her eyes was swollen. She was frail looking, but she also had a dagger. And a mad woman of the Nos with a dagger could be lethal.

  The leviathan began speaking. Ammey couldn’t comprehend the words, but neither the expression on the woman’s face nor the tone of her voice seemed menacing. Ammey managed to prop herself up on an elbow. “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

  Ko pointed to her own waist and then made a motion like she was withdrawing and tossing a dagger aside.

  Ammey understood. She hesitated a moment because the dagger was her only means of defense, but then she did as the woman bade. If the leviathan wanted to kill her, she would be dead soon, dagger or no. She was too weak to fight. The woman picked up the dagg
er. She took it with her and went to her pack, returning with dried meat strips, a basket of berries and a blanket. The fact that the leviathan was helping was baffling. Ammey had always heard they were violent, stupid beings, yet this woman was the very opposite of that. “Thank you,” she uttered.

  The woman nodded as if she understood.

  Ammey put one of the fat, round berries into her mouth. It was juicy and tart when she bit into it, but it mellowed pleasantly. She nodded, and the woman nodded back. Ammey settled back onto her side, too weak to stay up. She reached for another berry and ate it and the juice soothed her parched throat.

  The leviathan handed her a strip of meat. Ammey ate it and several more berries. The woman spoke again, but Ammey had no comprehension of the words. The woman gestured to her clothing, suggesting removal. To bathe. Because of the burn. Ammey nodded with each thing she understood.

  Ammey tried to assist in the effort of removing her clothing, but she had no strength, and so the woman accomplished it alone. She helped Ammey into the water and submerged her. The temperature was a shock and Ammey became painfully chilled. She couldn’t quit shivering or stop her teeth from chattering. Despite her locked jaw, breathy grunts escaped her. She couldn’t control that, either. The leviathan washed her quickly, removing the caked on dried blood as gently as possible. Afterwards, she put her onto the woven blanket and folded it over on her.

  “Thank you,” Ammey bit out, hoping her gratitude was clear, even if her words were not. She curled up tightly, hurting, her muscles bunched and her teeth still chattering. When the warmth of the cover penetrated, she fell into a bottomless sleep.

  She woke to find the woman covering her in sticky green leaves. It was morning, she realized, which meant she’d slept all of yester day and night.

  The woman held up a leaf. “Lockasa mi phailpla.” She made a circular motion with the leaf above the back of her hand. “Hep eedn tap.”

  “You’re saying it helps the burn?”

  “Hep,” the woman said, nodding. “Eedn tap.” She motioned to her face.

  The woman closed her lips tightly and motioned to them. Ammey nodded and closed her lips. The woman gestured with two fingers over her eyes, and then closed her eyelids. Ammey closed her eyes and felt the woman cover her face with the leaves. The sap of the leaves was soothing. It was her last thought before falling back asleep.

  She woke again as the woman removed the leaves. The burn felt diminished. The leviathan, who had washed her clothing, helped her redress. “What tree does this come from?” Ammey asked, holding up one of the discarded leaves and then gesturing to the trees.

  The woman pointed to a tree and then went to get some leaves from it. She came back and showed both sides of the leaf. She then got up and went about preparing food. How wrong her perceptions of leviathans had been. Her new friend prepared a meal of rich tasting cooked grains and nuts wrapped in a limp purple leaf, something like a cabbage leaf, and they ate together. “Ammey,” she said, placing a hand to her chest.

  “Ko,” the woman said, gesturing to herself.

  “Ko,” Ammey repeated. “I thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  Ko nodded.

  “Leviathan?” Ammey asked, pointing to Ko, looking for a common word.

  Ko nodded. She pointed back at Ammey. “Livianos.” She pointed at herself, “Than,” then at Ammey, “Nos.”

  “Levianos,” Ammey repeated thoughtfully.

  Ko nodded.

  After the meal, Ko left Ammey with food, her dagger, a piece of flint and a stringent warning about going any direction but due west. Ammey understood and told her so. As a parting gift, Ko left her sleeping rug and then headed off. A little ways off, she turned back and gave a gesture of farewell. Ammey raised her hand in return. Few words had been exchanged between them and yet they’d shared an understanding. Ammey clearly understood that Ko had spared her life and very possibly saved it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As Mehr went to the tent of General Geoffrey Tullmoore, having been summoned, he felt a prickling of distress at the hostile looks he was receiving. It was unnerving. He entered Tullmoore’s quarters to find several men gathered and looking grim. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly certain something terrible had occurred.

  “You’re in danger,” Tullmoore informed him without preamble. “You’ve been blamed for Lady Corin’s death.”

  Mehr’s knees went weak. “Her death? Jade is dead?”

  Tullmoore nodded stiffly. “I’m sorry to say she is.”

  “Wha—what do you mean I’ve been blamed?” Mehr stammered. “Why? That’s—” he broke off, wondering what was a fitting word. Absurd? Ludicrous? He’d liked Jade immensely. He’d liked who Marko had become because of her. He would have never harmed her. Responsible for her death? “I just heard they captured one of the men who abducted her.”

  “And he has blamed you,” Tullmoore stated flatly. “He claims you paid him to abduct and kill her.”

  “That’s madness! No one will believe it!” But a prickling up and down his spine intensified as he thought of the glares he’d just received. Absurd or not, word was out and people did believe it. He shook his head, panicked. “I would never have hurt her. Why would I?”

  “Because you could not have her for your own,” Tullmoore replied in an even voice.

  Mehr couldn’t draw enough breath to respond.

  “The abductor, Beck, confessed under torture,” Andre Smithe spoke up.

  “It’s a lie,” Mehr exploded. “It’s a filthy lie!”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Tullmoore stated. “If I believed it, I wouldn’t have sent for you. The only question is what Corin will believe. He has not been right since the lady went missing.”

  It was true. Marko had barely slept or eaten, and Zino spent all day and all night whispering in his ear. “Zino is behind this,” Mehr declared.

  “I don’t doubt that either,” Tullmoore replied in low voice. “Yet a good many men in this army are loyal to him.” He paused. “You must run for your life.”

  The accusation was mind-boggling. That Marko might believe it was agonizing. How could he leave? If he did, it would confirm the suspicion.

  “Corin will soon hear the man’s confession,” one of the others spoke up.

  “He may be hearing it now,” another added.

  “If you want to live, you have to go,” Tullmoore joined in. “Once you’re secure somewhere, write a letter denying the accusation.”

  They were all talking at once. Mehr couldn’t think, but the lack of honor it suggested stung. “If I run, I look guilty.”

  “Listen to me, Mehr Pechaco,” Tullmoore warned. “The king is not himself. Lady Jade’s severed arm was discovered, the section with his mark. It is not likely to make him more reasonable.”

  The thought was sickening. “But if I go into hiding—” he began weakly.

  “Then you live to fight another day. If you stay, you will die before the sun sets on this day. Zephyr will see to it.”

  The words were chilling, the truth behind them evident. Mehr nodded, accepting what he had to do.

  “We’ll escort you,” Smith said. “You are not completely abandoned.”

  Marko looked around his cousin’s rooms as if was seeing it for the first time. He was numb from the betrayal. Xander Beck had confessed to abducting and murdering Jade at Mehr’s behest. Marko had not believed it, he had not been able to accept such a betrayal, but the evidence was here. Items of Jade’s were among Mehr’s possessions and, worse, a journal that detailed everything, including a deep and abiding hatred of him. And it was Mehr’s writing. How could he have been so blind?

  “Do not blame yourself, Marko,” Zino said from the doorway. “I did not see it and I did not trust the man. He was very careful.”

  Marko held up a hand to silence him. He wanted silence. He needed it to understand how he had lost everything in so short a time.

  “I will take care of everything,” Zino
said. He backed up and waved off the guards to give Marko his privacy.

  Salvo could barely contain his joy. The journal had been his idea and he had found the best forger in the city and had him replicate Mehr’s handwriting. It had been a brilliant move. If only he could announce it and receive his due credit, he’d be perfectly content. Zino approached him looking burdened with sadness. The man was the consummate actor.

  “Wipe that look off your face,” Zino demanded in a harsh whisper.

  Salvo made an attempt to look serious, but it was difficult.

  “Then go find Mehr and arrest him,” Zino added. “We need to finish this chapter and move on. I want troops marching on Shilbridge as quickly as it can be arranged. We are behind schedule.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Morning mist hung low to the ground. Above it, trees were turning vibrant shades of orange and red. A courier, who had ridden long and hard to reach Stonewater Forge, marveled at the beauty, although he did not slow his pace. Soon he might actually meet the McKeaf.

  He reached the military camp on the grounds of Stonewater Forge, and was stopped and asked his business before being allowed to proceed to the residence. The job of a courier was an important one, but not often rewarding. Once he passed a missive along, he usually ceased to exist in the eyes of the recipient. He reached the residence and dismounted. “I have an urgent message for General McKeaf,” he said to the men who stood guard.

  One of them came forward. “I’ll see to your horse,” he said, taking hold of the reins.

  “Thank you.”

  “They’re inside and to the left,” another said. He walked over to open the front door for him. “You’ll hear their voices.”

  It had been a far more gracious response than he normally received. Stepping inside, he was awed by the wide open foyer with a massive stone hearth and a grand, metal chandelier. But he wasn’t here to gawk. He walked down the hallway, glancing into rooms as he passed them. He picked up on voices ahead and followed them, growing increasingly nervous.