by PJ McDermott
Sequana inclined his head and his eyes swiveled left. He nodded several times and then turned back to his lieutenant.
“No. I wish you to do this for me. The nobles must not receive any acclaim for this heroic action. We must leave no doubt in the people’s minds that I am responsible for removing this scourge.” His lips curved upwards, but there was no humor in his eyes.
“Of course, my lord, of course. I would not hesitate, but would it not be wiser to send Xeroz? Once the Riv-Amok has dealt with he and his friends, I would be more than happy to slay the monster. That way we will rid ourselves of both problems.” Thurle wrung his hands and laughed nervously.
Sequana’s face darkened. “You dare question my wisdom? You must kill the monster. You may take Krilla and a squadron of her nauris with you. I have other plans for Xeroz.” He looked to the side once more and then said. “Go now. Time is short.”
Thurle packed a bag, taking only what was essential. He would need to move quickly. Sequana was mad. That much was abundantly clear. He heard voices! His hold on reality had degenerated ever since he had taken to wearing the Sword by his side. Sequana had ever been an autocratic leader. Now he wanted Thurle to sacrifice himself in a futile attempt to win favor with the Erlachi people. They will never warm to him.
Thurle had few doubts about the outcome of a quest to kill the creature. There were not enough warriors in all of Erlach to do the job. He and the nauris would end up inside the beast’s belly. Balor knew what he had in store for the nobles. Xeroz had proposed that one of his three ascend the throne. In return, he had offered a token number of naurs for the crusade. Sequana did not like that one bit.
He opened the door a crack and glanced around before stealing outside. He was locking the door behind him when Krilla spoke in his ear.
“Where are you off to, Turncoat?”
He started, his heart pounding. “Balor! You gave me a scare.” Then his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here, nauri?”
“Our leader said to meet you to make sure our departure is not delayed.” She smirked.
Thurle forced a laugh. Krilla and her nauris were under orders not let him out of their sight. “Did Sequana tell you of our quest?” he said, as they walked down the laneway to the main thoroughfare.
“Of course,” she said. “We are to become heroes by killing the Riv-Amok.”
Thurle darted a glance at her, eager to find some doubt in her features. But he realized it was a forlorn hope. Sequana’s nauris were unquestionably loyal to him and would ride to their death should he command it. Which he had done.
“Where are the others?” he asked, kneeling to tie a bootlace.
“They wait for us outside the gate.”
He slipped the dagger from his sock, sprang to his feet and plunged it into her back.
Krilla struggled, but the naur was too experienced and too strong. He clasped her mouth with one hand and forced the blade inwards and upwards then ripped it out. Krilla fell to the ground. Thurle wiped the blade on his sleeve, replaced it inside his sock then hurried into the night.
As the travelers approached Crodal, the gates remained closed and the stockade was silent, showing no signs of life. Hickory called out that the danger had passed and they wished to be admitted. A few minutes later, a head popped over the top of the palisade, and a rough voice addressed them.
“What do you want? Go away. We don’t want beggars here.”
Hickory smiled pleasantly at the native. “Then you’re in luck. There are no beggars here, only poor travelers looking for something to eat and a place to stay for a few days. We can pay for our keep.”
“We do not allow strangers to enter our village when the Riv-Amok is hunting. Begone or I will order the archers to shoot.”
Gareth drew his sword and pointed it at the defender. “This is no way to welcome a stranger. Come down here and I will teach you better manners.”
Hickory pushed his sword arm down. “Put that away. It’s not helping. These people are already frightened for their lives.” She smiled up at the defender. “We did not ask the Riv-Amok to come here. The monster goes where it will. I tell you, we are peaceful people. Let us in.”
The defender seemed to consider their request. “If you enter, you must give up your weapons. Do you agree?”
“Assuredly. Friends have no need to carry weapons in each other’s company. We will lay them against the wall if you promise that they will remain there until we resume our journey.” She withdrew her sword and knives and placed them next to the gate, then motioned for the others to do the same.
The gate swung inwards and the gateman beckoned them to enter. As they had anticipated, the town was small. Around thirty permanent buildings and a larger number of tents and wooden shacks with brush roofs were erected around a central courtyard that contained half a dozen market stalls. The villagers had evidently overcome their fear of the Riv-Amok, and now they milled around, staring at the strangers.
The crowd parted to let one person through. He was a naur of average height with little to distinguish him from his fellows except for the ribbon he wore around his neck, from which dangled a smooth green stone.
Jakah murmured, “Village chieftain.”
Hickory bowed slightly and the naur returned her courtesy.
“Welcome to Crodal,” he said. “My apologies for the less than friendly welcome.” He scowled at the gateman and then turned back to face the visitors. “It is not often these days that we receive visitors from the south, and never accompanied by such horrors as we have seen today. Please excuse our caution and lack of manners.”
“Quite understandable.” Hickory inclined her head slightly. “We are grateful that you have admitted us. We have no wish to meet with the Riv-Amok again. We are fortunate it did not see us beneath our cloaks. How often does the beast attack the village?”
“For the past two hundred years he has come here to feast on our newborn, but usually he arrives later in the season. Sometimes we receive warning of his approach and can hide. On other occasions, he has surprised us, and we cannot deny him lest he kills us all.
“At least he has ridden us of the execrable Sri-Kanath and those two monsters with them.” He sighed. “Alas, the days are desolate. There are terrors everywhere. But, come. One of your party is injured. By the look of him he has been kissed by the Paramour. Our healer will attend to him at once.” He motioned to two villagers.
Jakah followed as they carried Saurab away.
“There is no need to worry,” the headman told Hickory. “Our healer is well experienced in these things and your friend should recover quickly once treated. This is Urgath. He will take you to a place where you may rest if you wish. It would please me if you honored us with your presence at the evening meal.”
They followed Urgath to a long, stone building on the opposite side of the courtyard.
“This is the place where travelers sleep. There are no inns in Crodal, but you should find this more comfortable than sleeping on the road,” said their guide. “A few naurs are already here, but there are enough beds for all.”
The hut was clean at first sight. A fire blazed in the middle and there was a distinctive smell of wood smoke, although most escaped through a hole in the roof. Blankets and cushions aplenty were strewn on the floor and a long table had several chairs around it.
“Not bad,” said Gareth. “How long are we going to stay here, Hickory?”
“Depends on Saurab. But not long. I’m sure that monster will come back looking for us sooner rather than later.”
Jess’s expression fell. “Really? What is that thing anyway? Is it really the legendary creature that snatches babies from their cradles—this Riv-Amok?”
Hickory unpacked her few possessions from her bag and sat on one of the chairs. She spoke quietly. “I…I think so. It spoke to me. It has intelligence, but it’s malevolent. I don’t doubt it’s ancient. I got the impression it has lived alone for a long time now—perhaps the last of i
ts kind. I also think it’s no longer quite sane, which is the scary part.”
“Why was it so fixated on you?” Gareth sat opposite her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“Two things, I think. I was the first being able to hear its thoughts, and I’m sure it sensed I wasn’t of this world. Something new—the first new thing it had come across in an age. I could feel that the thought excited him and he desired me for his own.”
Gareth looked at her, aghast.
“Not in that way, you fool! As something to be treasured, owned and kept for himself alone. Like a piece of jewelry.”
“Oh…” Gareth squirmed in his chair and his face turned red. “I knew what you meant.”
Jess looked at Gareth and shook her head, then said, “So, it’s intelligent, mad and desperate for a new experience. I don’t think he’ll be giving up on you.”
“That’s why we can’t hang around too long. If need be, we’ll have to leave Saurab here.”
Later that evening, they feasted with the village chieftain and his officials in the communal eating hall. Over two hundred residents attended to celebrate their liberation from the Sri-Kanath and to welcome the travelers.
“We eat together often,” said the chieftain. “We are a small community, far removed from the major population centers, and it helps us to cope with the isolation.”
Jess remarked on the scarcity of children. “Those here look as though they’ve been adopted by all the adults. See how freely they run from one couple to another?”
“They are much loved,” said the chief.
Most of the diners were Erlachi, although a solid minority of Avanauri was present. The cousin races were distinguished mainly by the texture of their skins. Whereas the Avanauri had smooth, creamy skin, the Erlachi were covered in minute scales that shone with radiant intensity.
The meal consisted of servings of barbecued fungi and baked root vegetables stuffed with herbs, followed by nuts and honey to finish. As they enjoyed a mug of ale, the headman questioned them about Castaliena. “We have heard that more visitors are arriving in Avanaux each day.”
Castaliena was the southern continent, isolated from Avanaux by vast, turbulent seas and a six-hundred-mile-wide band of floating islands and reefs known as the Scarf. Travel between Avanaux and Castaliena was non-existent. The Agency and the government of Avanaux had invented the excuse of ‘explorers from Castaliena’ to explain the sudden appearance of strangers amongst them.
While Gareth spun an imaginary tale of the Castaliena he had met, Hickory noticed one of the Erlachi seated at another table listening intently to the conversation. The observer wore shabby clothing but carried himself with an air of assurance. When he became aware of Hickory’s attention, he seemed to shrink within himself. “Who is that dressed in the green robes?” she asked the chieftain.
The headman shrugged and said, “A stranger, come from the north a few days ago. He says he is a farmer, but his hands have never held a plow, I warrant. We get a lot of foreigners who stay here a few days and move on.”
As the night wore on and others left the feast, the green-robed Erlachi remained. Eventually, he approached the table. “A word with you, if I may,” he asked Hickory politely.
Gareth’s eyebrows rose and he nudged Jess. “Looks like Hickory has an admirer, eh?”
Jess tutted at him but examined the stranger with interest.
The naur’s shining skin became even more luminescent.
Hickory rose. “Don’t mind my friends, stranger. They mean no harm. Let’s take a stroll outside. I could do with some fresh air.” The pair left the hall, much to Gareth’s amusement.
Once outside, Hickory placed her arm on the Erlachi’s sleeve. “That’s far enough, I think. What did you want to talk to me about?”
The stranger bowed to her. “My name is Gronk. I hear you are traveling to Kandromena in the north. I wish to offer my services as a guide.”
Hickory stared at the stranger. He did not look like a farmer or a guide. His features were too refined, almost untouched by the harsh environment. She could have added that his demeanor was rather haughty for one seeking employment. “We have no need, sir. I have a map that will lead us there.”
“The way is long, and there are many dangers and some shortcuts that a map does not show.” The Erlachi spread his hands. “I do not ask for much in return.”
Hickory took a pace backward and looked him up and down. “Pardon my rudeness, but you do not look like someone with knowledge of the wilderness.”
He sighed loudly and his head fell to his chest. “I’m sorry, I should not have tried to deceive you. You are correct. I have not worked outdoors for long. But I have studied the geography of Erlach for many hours at the command of my father, and I have recently come unscathed from the land you wish to visit. I think I could take you there with little trouble.” Gronk stared at his soft hands. He might have begged, except, as Hickory could see, there was a jut to his jaw, a stiff pride that allowed him to bend only so far and no further.
Intuitively, Hickory liked this Erlachi. “If you are to accompany us, sir, you must tell us who you are and what is your business in the north. It seems strange that one who has come so far would want to return so quickly. Are you a trader?”
The Erlachi lowered his eyes. His voice was bitter as he replied, “You will not believe me. None would think one of noble birth and privilege could fall so far. But if I must tell you to gain your trust…” He sighed and met Hickory’s stern gaze again. “I am Albetius V, the thirteenth of my line in the house of Erlach. I am king of this land—or I was until I abandoned my duties. Now I must return to the capital and face my enemies, even if it means I die at their hands.”
Hickory felt surprise but not disbelief. She looked for signs of dissemblance, but there were none. Instead, she sensed an immense sadness in him and an air of tragedy. “What made you change your mind and decide to go back?”
“A week ago, I deserted my people and left them in the hands of an Avanauri tyrant.” He averted his eyes. “I am not proud of that decision though it was made with good intent. It has haunted my sleep. I must do what I can to rid them of the Pharlaxian.”
Sequana! She placed a hand on Albetius’ shoulder and said, “Come, I will introduce you to my companions and you can tell us your story.”
Journey
The following morning, Saurab pronounced himself cured. His face was pale and his eyes were rimmed with red, which together with the dark pigmentation gave him a ghoulish appearance, but the village healer assured Hickory that he would return quickly to his usual self with exercise and sunshine.
When they had eaten, Hickory called a briefing and Albetius outlined the journey ahead of them. “We must climb the shoulders of Shakaranni high in the Erlachi Ranges, and travel over mountains and through treacherous passes to reach my homeland. It is five days’ journey from here.” He traced his finger along Hickory’s map.
Hickory wanted him to lead them to the capital, Kandromena, where they hoped to discover more about the whereabouts of Sequana and the Teacher.
“I will take you as far as I can—at least to the borders of Feruwe,” said Albetius. “More than that I cannot promise. My enemies will be searching for me.”
They loaded their backpacks with winter clothing, restocked with food and other vital supplies they would need on their journey, and then said farewell to the village headman.
The trail began at Crodal’s gates and wound gradually upwards through undulating foothills speckled with trees and inhabited by tiny furry creatures. After several hours of hiking, they reached the base of the highlands and the gradient increased sharply. As they climbed higher, the flora changed to clumps of grassy moss, dwarf shrubs, and stunted trees shaped by the constant northerly winds.
Albetius looked at the sky and declared a change was coming. He instructed them to put on extra socks and the warm jackets they had brought. “We should try to get as far on our j
ourney as possible while the weather is fair.”
Sleet began falling late in the afternoon, turning to snow that became heavier and more persistent the higher they climbed. Albetius led them over a ridge and into a protected valley, which provided welcome relief from the driving wind. There were larger trees here but also knee-deep drifts of snow, which they plowed through. By evening, when they made camp in a glade of trees, the storm had subsided, but they were soaked through and shivering.
They pitched their tents and lit a fire, then changed into dry clothing and ate a warm meal from the supplies they had brought from Crodal.
As they sat around the campfire warming their hands, the clouds cleared and a brilliant star-filled sky appeared overhead. Nano, Prosperine’s largest moon, was full, flooding their campsite and the surrounding trees with silver light while the snow-covered peaks of Shakaranni towered above the trees.
“Magical, isn’t it?” said Gareth, settling himself next to Jess. “It reminds me of Christmas back home.” He whispered so that Albetius wouldn’t hear.
“Getting homesick for Rhode Island?” Jess smiled, pulling her hat down to cover her ears.
“A little,” he admitted. “Christmas in Bellevue was always a major production. Dad invited all the relatives from around the country to spend the week with us.”
“Must have been a big house, or don’t you have many relatives?”
“It’s one of the oldest colonial mansions on the strip. Enough rooms to sleep an army. Empty most of the year, but at Christmas…”
“We don’t celebrate Christmas. The twins and I generally go out for dinner, exchange a few gifts, and that’s about it. Might be different this year with Mack around.”
“What do you think of our ‘king’?” said Gareth.
“Not sure. He doesn’t talk much, but I think he’s traveling a hard road right now. From what he did say, he doesn’t seem to have endeared himself to either his nobles or his people in the past. I don’t understand what’s driving him to go back to Kandromena.”
