Ankharra took a breath.
“I can talk to them, if you want,” Cross offered.
“No, I can do this,” Ankharra said. She seemed nervous.
You? Danica thought bitterly. It had been several years since the two witches had first met, back when Danica was still a Revenger and Ankharra was an enforcer for the Shard. Danica still wondered how Ankharra had managed to snake her way into a position in the Southern Claw military. I know all about the things you did, she thought. You don’t deserve to be here anymore than I do.
She felt her spirit curl and twist inside her bloodsteel arm, which practically steamed with heat. It was taking a lot of concentration for her to keep the metal cool enough that it didn’t burn her, and the effort was taxing.
“Listen up!” Ankharra shouted loud enough for everyone assembled to hear. Her voice was rich and deep, and her accent lent her words just a hint of the exotic. “We’re a long way from home. We’re still trying to determine our location, but one thing we know for certain is that we need to figure out our status. Sergeant Hart, I want you to do an inventory. I also need a roll-call – we need to know who hasn’t been accounted for.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Hart said, and he turned and started barking out names to do an inventory and headcount. Danica nodded.
Looks like she pulled it off, she thought. Too bad they don’t know you like I do.
The soldiers broke up into teams, which Hart assigned to carry out the tasks at hand. Dust kicked up and the air filled with chatter. Danica shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at the sky, and determined it was just past noon.
Ankharra looked around at the small group that was left: Cross, Creasy, Ronan, Danica, Grail, a few soldiers, the surveyors, and Flint and Shiv.
“We’ll get a handle on how we’re doing,” she said, “and then figure out where to go from there.”
“Well, I know two people who are missing right off the bat,” Ronan said. “That pain in the ass Laros, and that other pain in the ass Jade.”
“Shit,” Danica said. She hadn’t even realized they were gone. “He’s right.”
“Well, we need to find them,” Cross said. “Let’s wait until Hart’s people get done with their census, and we’ll see who else is missing. For all we know they could be among the dead.”
“One can only hope,” Danica said coldly. “Ok, what else? Do we plan to sit around here, or should we try to get somewhere safe?”
“What do we know about the region?” Creasy asked. He looked at Ankharra. “What can you tell us?”
“Like I said, not much,” Ankharra answered. “But that gorilla-beast was just the beginning, I’m sure. It’s going to be just like in the Southern Claw: safe and secure in the cities, very dangerous in the wilds.”
“You just said we wouldn’t be welcome in the cities,” Danica said.
“We won’t,” Ankharra said.
“Still, it might still be our best option,” Cross said. “If we wait around out here there’s no telling what will find us. And we certainly won’t get anywhere just sitting around.”
“That doesn’t mean traipsing off through the desert is the best option, either,” Danica said. “If there’s a city nearby, would they come to inspect the wreckage?”
Ankharra nodded. “I didn’t think of that. But I worry that our crash would be just as likely to attract bandits as it would anyone helpful. I understand brigands are a major concern in Nezzek’duul.”
“They are,” Ronan said. “They’re not as bad as the Simar – that damn thing that just wasted seven of your soldiers. And don’t forget about the Sand Scorpions, the Firehorns and the Harata.” He hesitated. By claiming knowledge of those creatures he’d all but admitted what Danica knew and what Cross had suspected – that he’d been raised and trained by mages who’d originally called Nezzek’duul their home.
“Well,” Flint said. He and Shiv had been nearly silent the entire time. “It sounds like you know…quite a bit.”
“I’ve never been here, before you ask,” Ronan added. “But I have passing familiarity with some of the nasty shit we’ll run into.”
“Then what do you think we should do?” Danica asked. She saw Cross’s questioning look; they locked gazes for a moment, and he nodded. She kept watching him for a moment after he’d looked away.
I have to tell him, she thought, and her heart sank. It wasn’t the time or place for that, but the longer she put it off the more it would hurt. He deserves to know.
The wind kicked dust against their backs, and the air tasted of sulfur and salt. “I think no matter how unwelcome we might be in the cities, it would still beat staying out here,” Ronan said.
“We could scout,” Creasy said. His salt-and-pepper beard was coated with dark sand. “Ronan knows the creatures, and I know how to get around in the wild. We could search, see what we find. Or who.”
“Like Laros and Jade?” Cross asked.
“Exactly,” Creasy said with a nod. His voice was gravely and thick. “And if we find signs of civilization we can head that way.”
“Take Grail,” Cross said, nodding towards the Lith. The mouthless and pale-skinned man donned a featureless metal mask. A long re-curve bow, itself bladed so it could be used up close like an edged staff, was slung across his back. “He’s a hell of a ranger. Assuming he’s okay with that?” Grail nodded his ascent.
“Take some Southern Claw, as well,” Ankharra said.
Ronan watched her with a sour expression. “To make sure we come back?” he said dryly.
“To be there in case you need help,” Ankharra said sternly. “You ass.”
Ronan laughed. “Soldiers will just slow us down.”
“Take someone, Ronan,” Cross said, trying to keep the peace.
“I’ll take Reza,” Ronan said. “I can tolerate her. The four of us will make good time.”
“Take however much water you need,” Ankharra said. “Don’t be gone long.”
Ronan and Creasy took their leave to go find Reza. Cross looked at Danica with the clear indication of wanting to talk to her.
She could smell the ground burning. Sweat poured down her face. Danica was down to a tank top, which had pasted to her body in unflattering ways. Her arm radiated heat, and though her spirit cooled her skin she tried to use him only sparingly, since there was no telling when another Simar – or something worse – might choose to make an appearance. Danica pushed her hair back and held it there for a moment, waiting for a cool breeze she knew wouldn’t come.
They stood in the shadow of the ship, the only true shade to be found. The survivors were busy sifting through supplies, organizing a manifest of the ship’s passengers and doing their best to help each other endure the stifling heat.
The hills to the north were all shadows and sharp edges, far enough away they seemed almost dreamlike. Something about them filled her with angst, and she dearly hoped that wasn’t the way they’d need to go.
Nezzek’duul. It seemed impossible that was where they really were. The Land of Shadows, the Evil Across the Sea, a place of darkness and mysteries. Vessels and sailors from the distant land were encountered frequently along the southern coast, but little was really known of the region. Nezzek’duul was a desert realm filled with vivid colors and dark veils, ancient sorceries and people who filed their teeth and pierced their flesh with cold steel. The Sultans supposedly kept hundreds of slaves they trained as warriors, concubines and ambassadors. The people had dark skin and dark hearts and cast arcane tattoos and hexed runes on their bodies with enchanted inks and blood. Their technology was more magic than modern, and they lived like nomads and raiders, only loosely organized, gripped by barbarism. The desert lands were paved with skulls. Demons whispered through the dry valleys, lulling lost travelers to their doom. The people of Nezzek’duul were superstitious and untrusting, xenophobic and greedy. The Ebon Cities were unknown in this distant land, but it was plagued by plenty of its own monsters.
And if even ha
lf of that crap is true, Danica thought, we’re totally screwed.
She’d heard all manner of stories, none of which could be substantiated. The southern crime-addled city-states of Blacksand, Dagger and Night were heavily influenced by aspects of Nezzek’duulian culture, especially in their food, dress and drugs, as were the islands in the Ebonsand Sea. Danica had seen her fair share of foreign freighters pull into port during her unfortunate time with Klos Vago, and the colorful ships were always populated by veiled people with monkeys and exotic birds, wickedly curved blades, jeweled facial chains and tribal markings.
So much of the ocean gulfed Nezzek’duul from the Southern Claw they might as well have been separate worlds, and while foreign traders and explorers visited the coast no official contact had ever been made between the two regions, and no Southern Claw efforts to reach the lands across the sea had met with any success, not that many attempts were made. Fighting the war took precedence over all else and didn’t leave much time for exploration or diplomacy, especially in regards to such a remote and alien place.
“Can we talk?” Cross said. She hadn’t realized he was still standing there. Danica looked around at the busy camp. Wiley had approached Ankharra and seemed to be complaining about something, while Ronan and Creasy went to gather supplies for their scouting mission. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “No, Eric, I’m not okay. We’re 8,000 miles from home. A band of shadow wolves, who may or may not be responsible for ruining our world, are probably on their way to Ath to do a ton of damage. We’re stuck out here with a bunch of amateurs and a woman I’d…just as soon not be anywhere close to.”
She watched Ankharra tolerate Wiley’s pounding questions, something about his needing to be included on important decisions, and she remembered a time when the surveyor would have already been dead as a result of those efforts.
“Dani…” Cross started, but Danica cut him off.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.
Cross looked like she’d punched him. She hated herself at that moment, hated that she had to do this.
It’s for the best, Eric. For both of us.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“I…” She hesitated. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “None of it matters.”
“Listen, Dani…we need to pull together,” he said. “Keep our heads straight. We need to get back home.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Home.”
When did things get so complicated? she wondered. Not that long ago all she wanted was to find him, to put things back together. When he’d left Thornn all she could think about was getting him back; when he’d been stuck in that coma all she’d wanted was for him to wake up. Now that he was there she wasn’t sure what to do.
Do you want him or not? she asked herself. That’s the real question.
“Eric,” she said. “I need some time.”
“Time,” he said. She could get lost in his eyes. Even though he’d turned so gruff, so weathered and beaten, she still saw the core of the young warlock she’d met in the Reach. He was earnest, fearless, and while he sometimes still seemed uncertain of himself she knew he was willing to sacrifice everything to do what needed to be done. He was so like her.
Maybe that’s why there’s no way this can work.
“I’m leaving the team,” she said. “Once we get back. Once we take care of this thing with the Maloj.”
He nodded, and watched her. She could tell he was hurt. Not that long ago she’d been in his shoes, and Lara Cole in hers.
Why can’t you just tell him? Tell him you need him, that you’re just confused, that you’re scared?
Because she didn’t know that. Not really. He was all she ever wanted…and that was the problem.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Cross nodded. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. And without another word he walked away.
Shit.
Wiley and Ankharra’s discussion was heating up. A couple of Southern Claw ensigns were stepping closer; Wiley’s group, the half-dozen surveyors who all looked like they’d just stepped out of a mine-shaft, also lingered nearby.
“For the last time,” Ankharra said. “This voyage is under military jurisdiction. You were afforded space on the Skyhawk as a guest. You will behave as such.”
“Which means doing what you say, when you say?” Wiley said with a sneer. “Typical militocracy bullshit,” he laughed. “You people have the guns, and you make sure everyone knows it. Just because you’re fighting a war doesn’t mean the war…”
“Oh, shut up!” Danica said. She came up to Wiley and looked him square in the eyes. He looked back definitely, though she caught him glimpsing nervously at her steel arm. “This isn’t the time or the place for this, you self-indulgent moron! In case you didn’t notice we’re kind of out in the middle of Shit Creek here. Stop rocking the boat and keep your mouth shut!”
“You don’t know where we are!” he yelled back. “That’s the problem. My team and I could help, but you’re too concerned with…”
“Keeping you alive,” Ankharra said. She looked at Danica, as if daring her to contradict. “That’s our main concern, Mr. Wiley. We still have people missing, and we’re not going to last long in this heat. So I apologize if you feel that your possible contributions aren’t being realized, but for now we need to prioritize.”
Wiley didn’t like her answer one bit. “Typical,” he said.
Ankharra took a breath, and put on a smile. “Please try to help us out. Once we have a sense for where our missing persons are and where we can find some shelter and supplies, then we’ll return to the issue of determining where we are.” She looked at Danica again, who just shook her head and smiled.
Ever the diplomat, she thought. She left them to it – Ankharra had things well in hand. Danica walked off alone, closer to the edge of the ship’s giant shadow. She smelled the burning air and heard the thrum of the heat haze. Insects swarmed low to the red-brown earth. The shimmering distance wavered like a glass image.
“Danica.”
She turned, surprised her spirit hadn’t alarmed her to Shiv’s presence. Cross had found the girl and her father near the Carrion Rift, prisoners to a slave trading crew who had no idea as to her potential. Even Cross himself hadn’t been sure, not at first. Not a witch herself, Shiv could awaken the latent arcane potential in others, even non-humans, and that made her incredibly dangerous even though she couldn’t have been a day over eleven.
Her lanky brown hair hung down just past her chin, and her big green eyes were reflective and bright. The girl’s face seemed perpetually dirty. She wore a simple tan shirt stained with desert grime and a loose pair of cargo pants; a bandana had been tied around her neck. Her expression was dour, and she watched Danica with her lips tense and her hands fidgeting with the canteen at her belt.
“They’re giving out water?” Danica asked with a nod towards the girl’s belt.
“This one’s mine,” Shiv said after a moment. “They said I could keep it.”
“Good of them.”
“I need to talk to you, Danica,” Shiv said after a moment.
“Everyone needs to talk to me today,” Danica said, with a bit more acid in her tone than she’d intended. “Where’s your father? I’m surprised he isn’t with you.” Shiv turned and pointed out Flint, who was helping sort the supplies. A gruff man in his early fifties, Shiv’s father had thin white-grey hair and a trim beard, and a no nonsense brusqueness about him that Danica appreciated.
“He’s never far,” Shiv smiled. The wind ruffled her hair.
“What do you need?” Danica asked.
“You’re in danger,” she said. Shiv’s voice was suddenly darker.
“What?”
“They’re coming for you.”
Danica felt like Shiv had whispered right into her ear even though the girl stood several feet away, and the sensation sent a chill down her spine. Something in Shiv’s eyes see
med distant, and lost. She wasn’t looking at Danica, not really. Her gaze was trapped on something far away.
“Are you okay?” Danica asked. She stepped closer. Shiv stood rigid. The air around her was cold even in the stifling heat, like she wore a glacial cloak.
Shiv blinked, and looked up at her. “What?” she said.
“Are you okay?” Danica asked. She realized she was shaking.
Shiv looked around. She seemed confused. “Yeah,” she said. “Why?”
Danica watched her carefully. “What were you telling me just now?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Shiv said. “You asked me to come over here, didn’t you?”
Danica had always been good at reading people. She’d gained the skill as a Warden in Black Scar, sniffing out lies and using her spirit to read the subtle variations in a person’s aura, to gauge their level of anxiety and fear in order to tell if they were being deceitful or not.
Shiv was either the best damn liar she’d ever met, or else the girl was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was.
Flint came trotting up. Sweat basked his face.
“Everything okay?” he asked with a smile. He looked at Shiv, then at Danica. “She’s not giving you any trouble, is she?” he asked amiably.
“No,” Danica said, putting up her own forced smile. “No, of course not.”
“You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
What’s going on? She considered telling Flint what had happened, what Shiv had said to her, but thought better of it.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I think this heat is getting to me.” She held up her metal arm, listened to its gears and arcane joints creak and grind in place. “This damn thing doesn’t help.”
“I imagine,” Flint said. He looked at her like she’d just fallen off the crazy wagon. “Can I get you something?” he asked.
Danica looked at Shiv. Shiv watched her, confused.
“I’m fine,” Danica said. “I should get going.” And she took her leave without another word, heading back towards the ship.
Chain of Shadows (Blood Skies, Book 6) Page 9
