Tander had met more than his fair share of beautiful women since he’d left home. There was that woman back on Nesos, the one who gave him that magic compass. What was her name? He couldn’t remember.
Then there was the girl at Chrysafi’s aerie, the one he’d thought had wanted to bathe him. The High Keeper had a timeless beauty and Y’neth was a vision, both exotic and mysterious. Though they were kind, he had to admit he was a little afraid of them both.
None of them compared to Tawn.
Tawn was exotic in her own way. She had the dark hazel colored skin of her people and to Tander seemed the ideal woman. It was as if Onúl had shaped the woman of his dreams. Though he was trained to use language he couldn’t begin to describe her beauty. Oh, he could say perfect because she was. Her smile, her eyes, her voice—flawless.
He’d been drawn to her from the moment she entered the room. He listened to her sonorous voice as she spoke of the final preparations for The Fang’s war council. He watched as she stood next to Silent Runner and addressed the room, but her eyes seemed to fall on him most of the time. The connection had been palpable.
Tawn had sidled up to him when they broke for lunch. He picked at his meal as they spoke intimately throughout the meal—about what he couldn’t remember—but the conversation had been so engrossing that he’d forgotten to eat.
Somehow, when the meeting resumed, Tawn was still sitting at his side.
He jumped as he felt her touch in the darkness. Her body quivered in silent laughter and her hot breath caressed his ear as she leaned in close.
“Do I scare you so? Surely you’re not afraid of me.”
“Oh, no,” he whispered back. “I was…deep in thought.”
“About what? Tell me.”
“Well…” he stammered, thankful the darkness hid his blush, “I was…I was thinking about you.”
“Me?” she purred. “Why me?”
“I…I think you know why.”
He could almost feel her smirk in the dark. “I do, Tander, but now is not the time to think of such things.”
“I suppose not,” he said, doubly glad she couldn’t see his face.
A soft, blue glow drew his eye as Doulos and Silent Runner approached. Tawn squeezed his arm and pulled away. He turned to look at her in the dim light, but she was already looking away toward her chief.
Everyone stood as the pair came near. Doulos stopped to pull Tander and Zalas close.
“Silent Runner knows the signal,” the wizard said, “and his men will follow his lead. Tell no one the signal. The chief believes there may be a spy among us.”
The wizard strode away to join the chief. Silent Runner held his glowsteel up to illuminate a nondescript portion of the wall. Tander felt Tawn’s hand slip over his shoulder as he watched, her breath on his ear again.
“What did the wizard say?” she asked.
“He, um, said to wait for the signal.” He felt bad for leaving her out. Surely the chief’s own shamaness could be trusted.
“What is the signal?” Tawn pressed.
“I’m not really sure,” Tander lied, “but he says we won’t be able to miss it.”
Her hand tightened on his shoulder, making him wince as she brought him to the edge of pain. Then she hissed and snatched her hand away. He wondered what had made her so angry and tried to turn and look at her, but Silent Runner chose that moment to pocket his glowsteel. Only the barest afterglow let him catch her narrowed eyes.
Tander heard swords being drawn up and down the line. He reached for his own and his hand brushed a second, empty scabbard strapped to his side. It was then he remembered their purpose, the recovery of Dilkah. He’d been chosen to carry Dilkah.
Zalas and Doulos both had their Xigara-forged swords, but wouldn’t draw them against mortals. Zalas carried his mundane sword just for that reason.
Tander shifted his weight back and forth as the minutes plodded by. The longer they stood in the darkness the more he noticed all the little noises around him. More than a hundred warriors lined the passage, their rhythmic breathing sounding like a distant rush of wind. The shuffling of feet here and the clink of armor there echoed through the corridor, making him wince as he imagined someone on the other side of the wall hearing the commotion.
The sound of wind grew more insistent and Tander wondered if the others were growing as nervous as he felt. He sensed Zalas tensing up, the man’s hand wringing his sword’s grip. The sound of wind grew louder and Tander wanted to lean forward and ask what was going on. It was then he recognized what he was hearing.
Dragon wings.
He heard Tawn suck air in between clenched teeth. Tander wondered if Tawn knew more than she was letting on. No one outside their immediate circle knew of Mahir’s involvement, but she was smart, perceptive. Doulos had only told Silent Runner that morning in private. No, there was no way she could know. She was only anticipating the battle to come.
The building shuddered, vibrating down to its foundations. Dust dislodged from joints overhead and fell on them like snow.
“I may not like this building much,” Silent Runner’s voice cut through the growing dread, “but that fool dragon better not bring it down on our heads.”
Sudden whispers of dragon darted up and down the line. The secret was out.
Mahir’s roar shook the walls in a blast as he challenged his brother to reveal himself. That was the signal.
“Forward the Wolf pack!” Silent Runner yelled. He pulled open the hidden dwarven door, causing the passage to fill with light and sound from the room beyond.
Tander was carried in with the tide of warriors, adding his own improvised war cry to their howls. They burst into a room far less chaotic than he expected. The chieftains and their guards stood around the heavy table with their swords drawn. Some stared at the intruders with menace but most were looking at the ceiling in panic as Mahir continued his roaring taunts. Few of them seemed to notice the room flooding with invaders.
The Fang stood holding Dilkah, a look of arrant confusion on his face. Doulos drew Ehrler and stepped toward the usurper, a move which finally seemed to jar the Snake warriors into action.
“Raiders!” one of the clansmen yelled.
Chaos broke out. Wolf clan warriors were still streaming into the room, finding themselves faced off against snake-helmed guards. The chiefs of the three clans still loyal to Silent Runner—Eagle, Horse, and Fish—ordered their men into the fray. Tiger clan warriors rose up against them, as did those of the Boar.
Strongbow, chief of the Ram clan, looked about uncertainly as his men formed a protective circle around him. Just as Silent Runner feared, Strongbow would hold himself neutral in a bid to become jelefe in the bloody aftermath, or come to the last minute aid of whichever side appeared they would prevail.
Tander fought back to back with Zalas in the close quarters. The audience chamber was large, but there was little room to swing a sword as it filled with over two hundred warriors. Tander decided to try the two-handed style Quist had been teaching him, drawing his Honor Blade with his left hand.
A Snake warrior charged him, yelling something about Wolf excrement. Tander blocked the man’s downward strike with his Blade, catching the other’s sword midway down its length. The Xigara-forged knife cut through the sword like it was a stiff piece of cheese. The severed end fell to the floor with a clang.
The Snake guardsman stared down at the shard of metal in surprise until a Wolf warrior ran him through. “Fight!” the clansman yelled at Tander as he pulled his blade free. The Snake fell to the floor with a gurgling sigh, dead before he hit the hard stone.
The boy pulled his twin blades back into fighting position as another Snake charged him. His Blade didn’t shear the other’s swords as before, but he noticed it cut deep gouges when it made contact. The Snake went down under his assault, freeing him to help Zalas work their way to the wizard’s side.
A ring of Snake clan elite guards encircled The Fang as he continued to s
tare at Dilkah’s watery surface in confusion. His face was tortured, shifting between rage and shame. Silent Runner and a cadre of his warriors worked to break through the circle, but each time a Snake fell, another appeared to fill the gap. Bodies of friend and foe alike littered the ground, becoming stumbling blocks for warriors on both sides of the battle.
The tide turned as Tawn came racing into the room, scores of Wolf clansmen at her back. Her task had been to work her way through the New House and lead the other half of their forces through the main entrance. She pressed through the tumult to the wizard’s side, her face a thunderhead of anger.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the dragon?” she demanded.
“The Snake shaman is the sulfur dragon, Kitrinos, in disguise,” he yelled over the fray. “Mahir came to draw him out.”
“You should have told me,” she said, “but at least it looks like it worked. I haven’t seen their shaman anywhere.”
“No,” agreed Doulos, “he’s not here. Now stand back.”
Tawn melted back into the crowd as Doulos held Ehrler high. Several Snake warriors broke ranks to challenge him, but the old man was faster than he looked. He was inside their guards before they could react, slashing Ehrler across their chests. They stopped mid-stride, a look of sudden revelation filling their eyes. Each of them turned on their comrades, protecting the wizard from offending blades. Doulos worked his way around the circle until he’d turned all of the warriors to his cause.
Then he stepped inside the circle to confront the usurper.
“You!” The Fang shouted with a mixture of fear and malice. He pointed Dilkah at the wizard’s face, his hand trembling.
Doulos raised Ehrler toward Dilkah and a low hum filled their air as their blades came closer. Fighters around the room turned to look. The swords inched closer together, the sound building to a crescendo. Then they finally touched and everyone in the room was forced to drop their swords and clap their hands over their ears—everyone except the wizard and The Fang. The usurper stood transfixed.
Doulos stepped forward with a lunge, whipping Ehrler over The Fang’s outstretched arms to plunge Ehrler into his heart.
Silence engulfed the room. The Fang lost his grip on Dilkah, but Doulos managed to grab it in with his free hand before it hit the ground. A growl filled the usurper’s throat. Raw malice filled his eyes and he began to wail, a plaintive cry of despair and loss.
Doulos yanked Ehrler free of The Fang’s chest and the wail stopped. The usurper fell to the ground like an empty sack. Others around the room let loose their own cries of despair just before, they too, collapsed to the stone floor
Silent Runner stepped into the circle and looked down at The Fang in pity. Then Strongbow and his squad broke into motion, dashing over to form another, larger ring around them.
What are you playing at, Strongbow?” Silent Runner demanded.
“Forming your honor guard, jelefe,” Strongbow said.
“Hmph,” Silent Runner scoffed. “Now you choose sides.” He looked down at The Fang and asked, “Is he dead?”
“No,” the wizard said. “Ehrler does not kill mortals, it simply reveals the truth. Kitrinos was able to twist his mind because of his megalomania. The truth was too much to bear and his mind was broken.”
“You saw into his mind?”
Doulos nodded. “Ehrler reveals truth to the bearer. The Fang was indeed the Snake clan’s rightful chief and he only wanted the best for his people, at least in the beginning. His father was secretly a follower of the old ways and he brought up young Slither here to believe the same.”
Silent Runner raised his eyebrows. “Slither?”
“His real name.”
“An inauspicious one,” the jelefe said.
“So it seems,” Doulos said. “He began to receive visions from the Snake god—certainly one of the Huwm playing on his beliefs in the Elder Gods. He was told to use his influence to call for a return to the old ways before it was too late.”
“Too late for what?” Silent Runner asked.
“The very invasion your nation now suffers,” Doulos said. “It’s clear the Huwm are behind that as well. Slither’s visions predicted the war and he was led to believe that those who returned to the old ways would be spared—a remnant worthy of rebuilding a holy Ulquiy.”
“What of this dragon posing as his shaman?” the jelefe asked. “What was his role?”
“His visions foretold the coming of a prophet who would direct his path,” Doulos said. “Kitrinos is a dragon whose magic is empathic. It allows him to play with his victim’s emotions. He used that power to influence Slither and the other clan chiefs.”
“Aye,” Silent Runner agreed. “The clans were united until The Fang showed up with his shaman.”
“Kitrinos attended your meetings posing as the shaman and using his power to beguile those sympathetic to the old ways, thus setting up the coup. Once he came to power, Slither was nothing more than the puppet through which Kitrinos controlled Ulquiy.”
“How fitting that a snake was dominated by another serpent,” Silent Runner said. “But now, we rebuild.”
“What will you do with Slither?”
“We’ll care for him until his people take him back, if they’ll have him,” the jelefe said. “I suspect they might refuse in shame. If so, he’ll become a ward of the temple. The love of Onúl is unfailing, and so must ours be.” Silent Runner paused. “Where does your path lead you now, wizard?”
“With Dilkah recovered, we’ve reclaimed every sword on this continent. Now, we sail for Nesos.”
“Would you consider staying a few days? We could use your wisdom if we have any hope of defending ourselves against Eldinn.”
“A few days,” Doulos agreed, “but not long. The time grows short.”
71
The Southern Ocean
The Sunset’s Trace pulled free of the Zohar Delta more than a week later. The dead had been buried and the New House scrubbed of all traces of the short but fierce battle. The totemic symbols had been ripped from the temple and the golden circle of Onúl raised back into place during a joyous rededication ceremony.
Mahir had searched the city for the missing Kitrinos, but his wicked brother never surfaced. He’d either slunk away during the battle or taken had on another form and hid in plain sight within the city. Doulos left an admonition for Silent Runner to be vigilant.
Occasional skirmishes had broken out between clansmen on opposite sides of the coup. Four of the clans—Snake, Tiger, Boar, and Eagle—had lost their chieftains in the fight, so clan elders vied for position. Tensions ran high as the factions confronted one another in the streets, but most fights were quelled by a well-timed roar from the shining dragon.
Each of the clans finally chose new leaders, all of whom pledged themselves to Silent Runner, leaving the jelefe with more power and influence than he’d possessed before The Fang’s coup. Emotions still ran thick and there were many unanswered questions, but no one questioned Silent Runner’s right to lead Ulquiy.
Doulos held several days of consultation with the chiefs and their generals drawing up a war plan. Eldinn had encroached so far into Ulquiy with his yrch that they decided an all-or-nothing strategy was their only hope. They meant to throw everything they had at Eldinn himself in the hopes of beheading the monster stomping through their nightmares.
It wasn’t until the company was preparing to depart that the jelefe shot a flaming arrow across the company’s bow.
Silent Runner announced—during a ceremony in from of the people of Parthiy—his intention to send Tawn on the company’s quest as Ulquiy’s representative. The crowds cheered as he proclaimed the shamaness would take her place alongside the others in their struggle to save the world from the schemes of the Deciever. Tawn thew Doulos a smug look as he sputtered in protest.
The wizard bit down on his protests and grudgingly embraced the woman. The public viewed the move as welcoming into their select band.
&nb
sp; “If you cause me the least bit of trouble,” he’d whispered, “I’ll leave you on the nearest beach I can find.”
Tander watched her with undisguised desire all through the ceremony while Tenna fumed in shocked silence.
Later, she tried to follow Karah’s example and welcome the woman into their group, but Tawn made her skin itch. Y’neth said it was jealousy over the woman receiving attention Tander had once reserved for her. Tenna admitted she was put out by the boy’s snub, but insisted there was something else. Something intangible nettled her.
The first night out of port, Tenna awoke to find the woman wide awake and staring at her. Moonlight streamed through the porthole to glisten in Tawn’s unblinking eyes. Tenna confronted her the next morning, but Tawn claimed that she sometimes slept with her eyes open. Tenna refused to believe her, knowing those eyes had been aware and watching.
The shamaness later spent much of her day hanging on Tander, giggling as she made the boy blush again and again. Tenna wasn’t alone in her disapproval. Both Doulos and her father were less than pleased, but their ire had more to do with the fact that the woman had been forced into their company than with her growing relationship with the boy. Everyone else in the company seemed content to make the best of the situation.
Everyone but Quist.
The burly elf kept his usual place near Karah, his watchful eyes missing nothing. His expression was ever unreadable until it fell on the shamaness. Tenna caught his looks of bewilderment whenever he looked at Tawn. She reminded herself to ask him about it later.
Clear of the delta, their plan was to skirt around the Striche Cape and head west. They’d be forced to bypass Stile’s home port of Hocsaros as it lay in ruins from Eldinn’s massacre. They’d taken on heavy supplies and meant to go around the Great Reef of Ramah, making for one of the free cities along the western coast, either Etlantus or Koquilia. From there they could resupply then launch out across the Sea of Maseth and head for the forbidden Isle of Nesos.
The ship’s routine settled in over the next few days, even with Tawn’s unsettling presence. Mas spent his days on the forecastle, watching Tander fly Kel out toward the coast to hunt. Quist often stood at his elbow, helping the boy strengthen his bond with Kel. Tawn was never far away, often breaking the concentration of both men, but for different reasons.
The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara) Page 38
