Gemworld

by Jeremy Bullard

  “I’m sorry,” he said through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me. But did she tell you anything that I could use?”

  A slow, mischievous grin worked its way across Gaelen’s features, and Reit felt his spirits begin to lift.

  “Do you want me to start with her work within the granite detachment that’s following us, or with her idea to get them off our trail?”

  Chapter 17

  If he had been zealous for his Cause before, Reit was manic by the time he had finished speaking with Gaelen.

  A granite sworn to the Cause! Just a few short weeks before, Reit would have never believed he would recruit even one, let alone a second—a woman within the Granite Guard, no less. She had sworn to the Cause through Gaelen, confident that her brother would never purposefully do anything that might offend el, the supreme deity the rest of the world knew as the Crafter. In the same day, el’Yatza’s fight became her fight, regardless of the fact—or perhaps, because of the fact—that he stood against the Highest, whose service she had been pressed into. She knew that she might have to do things that might hurt the Cause, kill innocents in the name of her hated master, but she held out faith that el would keep her from such choices, and thus far, He had.

  Reit learned that she was not only a part of the granite detachment that was trailing them, but she was working her way into her superior officer’s confidence. When he asked a question, she gave a straightforward answer, never mind that it wasn’t logical to tell truths that might get her killed. This Chief General Nestor apparently liked that quality. Reit just prayed the Crafter that her luck would hold out.

  Her plan was simplicity itself. He outlined it to the Heads of Order and Guild—mindful to keep her confidence—and they all agreed. Though the plan was risky, the potential payoff was well worth it. And it wasn’t as if they had a better option.

  Sparing only a moment to speak separately with Keth and then Gaelen, Reit set the amethysts to work lifting the village, this time setting aside none to erase the trail. With all the amethysts committed to the same objective, they easily moved the entire lot. But rather than push east the few remaining miles to the Rhu’sai, they turned north into the Icebreaks.

  Reit sat in the couch of his wagon, holding his ineffectual reins more for comfort than anything. Occasionally, he’d give the horses a nervous tick. The slap of the reins on their backs seemed to calm them, if only the slightest bit.

  “Oh, do relax, love,” Delana said, suspended a few feet to his left, her eyes blazing with violet power. “Isn’t it enough that I service only our wagon and horses, and not five or six like most of the other amethysts? I promise, I’m not going to drop you.”

  “I know,” Reit croaked, unconvinced. “I have complete faith in your abilities, dear heart. It’s just that I keep remembering Darsen’s Way.”

  His wife let out a peel of laughter, snorting a bit in her mirth. “I told you I forgave you for that. After all, it was dark, you were drunk, and she was a mage.”

  “She was a ruby,” he said glumly.

  “True. On second thought, maybe we should change the subject,” she said, though not without a final chortle.

  The flock of floating wagons made good time, though the mana drain on the amethysts and emeralds was immense. Wagons once stably suspended began to wobble, slightly at first, then more insistently. Even Delana with her lighter load began to break out in a sweat. Reit was about to call a respite when the pass came into view, just a few miles to the north.

  Nestled between two sets of snowcapped peaks sat a narrow valley, a gently inclining slope barely a few hundred feet wide at its base. Snow blanketed the upper levels of the pass in drifts, fading as the slope wound away from the mountains.

  “There,” Reit called, pointing out a spot about a third of the way up the slope, where the pass leveled off into a shelf little over a hundred feet across in either direction.

  “I see it,” Delana replied, and moved the wagon toward the shelf, the rest of Caravan following suit.

  The wagons made a rough landing, horses stumbling as their hooves, now accustomed to the air, caught on the unforgiving rocks. Each wagon that set down made way for those that came behind, crowding the already narrow shelf to the point that some wagons had to remain airborne until room could be cleared for them.

  Reit, for one, could have cared less if he had been packed in like so much meat in a sausage tube. He was on the ground, and it was a beautiful thing!

  Looking around at all the tired bodies, barely conscious for all the mana wielded, Reit called camp for an hour, just enough time to refresh before moving into the pass on foot. At Reit’s word, the amethysts and emeralds collapsed as one, resting where they lay on the rocky ground.

  ***

  Nestor sighed his disappointment. He estimated by the dissipation of the various auras around him that about six hours had past since reveille. He guessed the time was swiftly approaching noon, though without natural sight he could not be sure. And after spending a good twenty four hours in the former rebel encampment, they’d picked up not a single trail. Even the scouts he’d sent out to all points of the compass came back empty handed. He was almost to the point of considering Jaeda’s earlier “suggestion” when the granite appeared at his shoulder.

  “Chief General, I think I’ve found something,” she said, the grey-brown auras of her gemstone eyes flickering with excitement.

  She led Nestor back to the center of the encampment, to the bit of amethyst trail that had been all but erased. “Look here,” she said, indicating the very edge of the erasure.

  Nestor drew close and studied the edge. It was a sharp erasure, clean, the violet aura a sharp contrast to the absolute clarity of the space above it. But as far as he could tell, there was nothing-

  That’s when he saw it. Just before the erased edge, the aura tilted ever-so-slightly to the east. The curvature was so close to the edge that it was no wonder that he’d missed it, and even now could barely make it out. But it was there.

  “Gather the scouts. Those you cannot find, leave a sign in the center of the camp large enough for them to see. Tell them we move east. And Prophets help those rebels when we catch up to them,” he muttered darkly.

  ***

  Reit could see the complaints in the gemstone eyes of his followers, but not a single word was spoken when they were called to move out. They knew that their time was short, and the granites were right behind them. The hour that Reit had spared them was far from sufficient, but he was afraid that even that much time was risky. They understood, but that understanding didn’t bring Reit much comfort. Refusing to dwell on the unpleasantries, he cast his eyes about, looking for Keth and Gaelen. He found the granite sitting with Retzu, sword jutting haphazardly from between his hulking shoulders, wavering as he heaved his exhaustion. Keth barely had strength enough to raise his head to acknowledge Reit before collapsing in upon himself. Dutifully, Retzu bent to pick the boy up and carry him to a waiting bed, tucked into the back of a wagon. Reit felt the smallest twinge of guilt for pushing the boy so hard, but he was back. That was more than he could say for Gaelen, who was still nowhere to be found.

  “Mount up,” he called to no one in particular, his command spreading through the camp with a life of its own. Casting one more glance toward the western sky, he wished Gaelen the blessings of el, and mounted his own wagon.

  The train crept up the pass, the horses happy to be on solid ground again, as evident by their kippered steps. They practically ran up the pass, their drivers constantly having to rein in so that they wouldn’t find an odd crevasse or fissure.

  The amethysts rode in the wagons, resting as best they could with all the rocking and jarring. A few of the emeralds did the same, though most were content to ride up front in the couches, their eyes pointed upward toward the sun, refreshing themselves as the light filtered through their soulgem and into their souls.

  By late afternoon, rock had given way to powdery s
now, and sunlight to growing dusk. The wagons topped the first ridge, and Reit gasped at the vista that opened up to him.

  The oranges, reds, and indigoes of twilight shown down upon the pass, beautifully highlighted by the snowy ground. Further into the mountains the pass widened, though not by much, and the pass rose and fell as it worked its way over and around the peaks. There were few shelves along the way that were large enough to support an encampment the size of Caravan, but the amethysts only needed the one. For off in the far distance, beyond the last snowcapped mountaintop, stretched a great forest, a solid wedge of dark green beneath the night-befallen eastern sky.

  Reit’s stomach clenched in anticipation, both of his people’s escape, and the fear of what they might find in that green. Aeden’s Lost Garden beckoned from the other side of the pass.

  ***

  It was full dark by the time the wagons made their way to a shelf that was able to support them. The amethysts, though groggy, were awake enough to scan the ground below the snow, guiding the wagons away from unseen danger beneath the drifts.

  The shelf was beyond the second rise, and more than wide enough to support Caravan in its entirety. The amethysts still admonished that they circle the wagons tightly, but the warning for the most part went unheard. The entire village was tired, and their long-anticipated rest would not be denied another minute.

  Reit set a minimal watch, as few as could be spared, and made almost entirely of Rubies as their heat oriented vision would pick out a warm body easily against the snow. Keth also volunteered to keep watch, claiming the inaction of the trip was wearing on his nerves.

  The rebel leader made a quick dinner—only one portion, as his wife was already unconscious—then went out in search of Keth. He found the granite at the western edge of the encampment, working through his shol’tuk forms in his bare feet. So intent was his workout that Reit thought he’d crept up on the granite unawares. He was mistaken.

  In a move so swift it was barely visible, Keth melted into the ground, reappearing again at Reit’s back, the granite’s katana snapping up to his neck before he could blink.

  “ el’Yatza,” the granite breathed, releasing him as quickly as he’d captured him and backing away unsurely. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “I’m fine, Keth. Don’t worry yourself over it,” Reit assured, running his hand across his own neck to make certain. “I’m glad I was wrong about you, though. I thought you were too involved in your exercises to notice me.”

  “I’m cheating,” Keth said, regaining his former confidence. With a wry grin, he wiggled his bare feet in the snow. “I’ve found that I can sense people as long as I’m one with the ground beneath me.”

  “Really?” Reit said, careful to sound neutral. “Anybody?”

  “Well, mostly mages that I know. I can feel auras for great distances, so long as the mage has bare skin in contact with the ground. Familiarity helps a great deal in focusing. But even if the person is a mundane, I can generally sense their presence when they come within a few hundred yards,” he added much too casually, as if giving a lecture on the effects of a hard rain on dry crops. “Without an aura, though, I won’t know who the person is until I’ve already got a blade to his neck.”

  “Amazing,” Reit whispered unabashedly. “I guess I’ll have to start announcing my approach.”

  “Nah, just give in to your royal status and hire a herald,” the granite deadpanned. Reit couldn’t help but laugh. Keth was usually so serious minded that his odd sense of humor caught Reit completely off guard.

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said with mock seriousness. He chanced a glance into the western sky and saw a tiny violet pinprick, barely distinguishable in its movement through the starlit night, and sighed a sigh he’d been holding all day long. Gaelen was back. I’d better make this quick, he thought, anxious to find out how things went with the young amethyst.

  Reit turned his eyes back to the granite. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for running that little ‘errand’ for me this afternoon. You could have easily said no, and I wouldn’t have thought less of you. You do not hesitate to put yourself in harm’s way for the Cause, and I don’t take that kind of courage lightly.”

  Keth studied him for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, he was so candidly sincere that Reit was once again caught off balance. “No thanks are necessary, Reit. It is I who should be thanking you, for taking me in and for rescuing me from the Highest. My problems were my own until you offered to help bear the burden. What little I do around here can in no way repay what I’ve gained in Caravan.”

  The granite paused for a moment of reflection, but Reit did not speak. He had the feeling that the big man wasn’t quite done.

  Slowly, the granite raised his hands before him, and as he studied them, they seemed to erupt in a smoky brown fire, though the flames gave off no heat that Reit could feel. “Before that day in the prison carriage, I thought that... this... was a curse. It had seen the death of two people—the mage, and my beloved Nanette—and had taken me away from my Ma and Da. I cursed the Crafter for placing this burden on me. Can you believe that?” he asked Reit rhetorically. “I actually cursed the Crafter! I thought that any deity that would condemn a man to a life filled with such pain is no deity worth my worship, and I hated His Vicar and his cronies here on earth, for lack of a more tangible way to direct that hate toward Him.”

  He paused again and gathered a shaky breath. “I was so wrong, and pray His forgiveness every day. This was no more a curse than I made of it. Once I realized that... once it was shown to me... I began to see just what good can come of it.” He turned his granite orbs to Reit, and for a moment, Reit could almost see a clarity in them, just beyond the black-flecked surface. He balled up his fists, quenching the cold, smoky flames. “I am more than I was, Reit, and I have you to thank. You and your Cause.

  “Tell me, will you always deny your royal blood?”

  Reit was taken aback. This was not why he had come out here. He’d envisioned nothing more than a short chat, a bit of encouragement toward a member of his rebellion that Retzu had mentioned was a bit out of sorts lately. He’d especially wanted to talk to him about Sal, and the way he’d been hovering over his missing friend’s memory. He didn’t expect... whatever this was turning out to be. “What do you mean?” he asked warily.

  “For quite a while, I looked up to Sal. Without his—if you’ll pardon the pun—’singular vision’, his ability to look beyond what we take for granted, I never would have gained what little control over my magic as I have now. Sal, the other-worldly stranger, the diamond mage, the most unique man in his world, and he follows you. I still miss my friend, and I will see him again, make no mistake about it. But he wouldn’t be my friend—none of the people here would be—if not for you, el’Yatza.”

  Reit watched in horror as his most dreaded nightmare came alive before him. Keth, the granite he’d rescued from a life of slavery that he’d sworn to rid the world of, dropped his arms and went down on one knee. He bowed his head, intoning the words that would once again strip him of his freedom. “Reit Windon du’Nograh, I swear fealty to you, in the presence of the Crafter and all His creation, the Prophets and all their wisdom, the Abyss and the evil it wields against the world. I am yours to command, until my last breath is drawn from me.”

  Reit stood in shocked silence for a moment, his mouth working without sound. He’d never wanted a kingdom, a rulership. He didn’t want people to do battle in his stead. He didn’t want people to die in his name. He hadn’t wanted any of this! All he wanted was a land where he and Delana could raise up children to the Crafter, some place where he knew his young ones would grow up safe from harm. He never asked to be el’Yatza. Damn the day he’d ever let the first person call him that!

  Keth remained kneeling, reaching up to Reit with a look, with outstretched hands, begging for acceptance of his fealty. So sincere the oath, so genuine the man...

  “I accept your oath,
” Reit said before he could stop himself, his voice on the verge of breaking. “I likewise pledge to you what protection I have, what humble lands I occupy, what blessings I can muster in the name of the Crafter.” Reit’s mouth seemed to work of its own accord, spewing out the recitation doggedly as he tried to clamp his teeth shut. It was as if he had no control over his faculties. The words continued to tumble out in perfect harmony to Keth’s oath. “Rise, brother, and take your place at my side, at the side of my armies, at the side of my friends.”

  Keth put his hands on his knee and pushed himself up, his face beaming with a brilliance that could never be magical. Even the all-powerful arcane arts had their limitations.

  With as much dread as he’d accepted Keth’s oath, Reit spoke again. “As your liege lord, I need you here, now, with your adopted family, fighting for the Cause and anything that might hinder it. I must ask you to give up on Sal for the moment. He may very well be alive, but we do not know where he is, and we could not risk the Cause to mount a rescue even if we did. I must ask that you give him over to the Crafter’s care, to do with as He Wills, and to be at peace, knowing that greater Hands than yours hold his fate.”

  ***

  Nestor cast his eyes to the right and left in amazement. The area was completely flooded with auric signatures, especially violet and green. It seemed his suspicions were confirmed. The granite signature they’d encountered a few miles back had been the rogue, apparently playing the rearguard for the rebels. He felt the aura—hours fresher than the rest—directly beneath his feet, racing off toward the northernmost reaches of the Aedenlee Foothills, perhaps climbing into the Icebreaks themselves. Nestor studied the aura for a moment, taking its scent as a gamehound might the trail of a wounded deer. If Nestor was any judge, the rogue had not become one with the earth until long after the other rebels had departed. He remained for a few hours, long enough to sense the approaching granite detachment, and then fled at breakneck speed.