by Cully Mack
‘You need to remove those wet clothes.’
‘I don’t want you to stop.’
Nate moaned. ‘Not here, not like this.’
She studied him searching for a gap in his resistance. His eyes filled with love and yearning. Whatever fixed his determination clawed to escape, to set him free, to not resist her but he held on. She knew that for whatever reason he wouldn’t change his mind.
Nate lifted his white shirt draped over the chair. ‘Put this on.’
He turned away to give her privacy. When she was standing in nothing but his huge shirt, he folded his cloak around her. ‘Come,’ he said, leading her to the bed. His lips gently caressed her neck as he stroked her hair. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Go to sleep.’
❊
Where are you? the Beast sneered.
Mirah saw through the beast’s eyes, a bird’s-eye view of galleys on the ocean. Then it swerved through fire and ice shooting across the sky, Wielders. Galleys burning, dark objects floating in the water, bodies.
Trapped behind the Beast’s view she couldn’t help them. It lowered its gaze, pausing over Wind Weaver, eyes scanning.
I know you’re here, it tormented.
Ammo ran across his ship and leaped over the side.
The Beast snorted.
Mirah’s breathing became ragged.
What was Ammo doing? She wanted to beg the Beast to turn back its gaze.
‘No,’ she cried out.
She awoke to find Nate leaning over her, his hand gently shaking her shoulder.
‘Ammo’s galleys are being attacked,’ she said, through heavy breaths. ‘They know we’re here.’ She pushed off the bed. ‘I have to tell Gabe.’
Her clothes and boots were still damp as she hurried to put them on. She found Gabe’s room empty and rushed downstairs to the command room.
‘Where’s Gabe?’ she asked Galia.
‘He’s not back yet. I couldn’t sleep.’
Galia watched as Nate came and wrapped his arms around Mirah’s waist. With her eyebrow raising slightly, she said, ‘I’ve made tea.’
When Gabe returned with Meciel, exhaustion harassed him. She felt guilty burdening him with more.
‘What about Shemyaza?’ Mirah asked after she’d told them.
‘He doesn’t know where you are,’ Meciel said.
She would have been pacing if Nate hadn’t kept her hold. ‘But I saw—’
‘What you saw was a hunting party,’ Meciel said. ‘Ammo destroyed one of their ships. The other, when they realised we weren’t with them left to continue searching.’
‘He’s right,’ Nate said, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. ‘If they thought, they were in any way connected they’d have interrogated them before leaving.’
She could sense Nate’s mind racing, shifting his strategies into play.
He turned to Gabe and said, ‘They’re too close. We need to be moving and we must split the forces. I’ll instruct Zeev to lead half the men, to keep with the planned raid on Shargaz’s mines, the rest we’ll take with us.’
‘We leave at first light,’ Gabe said, rising. ‘I’ll be on the roof if anyone needs me.’
Galia followed him and she heard their muffled voices lowering in the corridor the further along they went.
Nate kissed her brow. ‘I have to help Zeev and raise the War Chiefs.’
He hadn’t asked her anything about her change of heart and she yearned to explain. ‘Go,’ she said.
Left alone, she asked Meciel, ‘Before you go can you clarify how the Beast can see?’
He paused by the door. ‘There is a veil between our worlds. Those in the other realm are not omnipresent. They can’t be everywhere at once. I believe it tracked whoever is tracking you, to get a glimpse of where you are.’
‘What does it want?’
‘You already know the answer.’
❊
Mirah stepped onto the Command Centre roof. She found Gabe sitting on the ledge next to Terra watching the buzz of activity going on in the encampment. The torchlights and campfires competed with the darkness making the tents and the men below barely visible.
Terra’s head hung low and cocked to the side, her golden eyes watching her as she approached.
‘She doesn’t frighten you?’ Mirah asked.
‘She reminds me of Nuri,’ he said, massaging her leathery shoulder.
Terra shifted, her talons scraped against the wood and she let out an indignant snort.
Mirah drew closer and asked, ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I was remembering when I used to play practice sticks with Eran and Tam, fighting off leviathans or invading armies. It’s not a game anymore.’
Men weaving through the tents called out in the darkness and she peered into the gloom, eyes straining to view them. ‘What’s your plan?’
‘Meciel said he can close the portal. He wants me to destroy Shargaz. Since they took you, he’s been teaching me their language. It’s strange, I can’t explain it, but it feels alive when I speak it. The more I believe the more it seems to work. He’s convinced my words are stronger than any sword.’
She sensed his conflicted emotions. He stood on a crossroads between the relief of having her with him and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. But deeper still she recognised his unshakable determination and knew it would win through.
‘What do you think?’ he asked with concern.
‘We stick together; we stick to your plan.’
He smiled and she realised as much as he didn’t want this he was doing this for her. Everything within her wanted to tell him they should run, hide, maybe they could outsmart them if only for a while.
‘Before, how did Meciel learn about the attack on Ammo’s galleys?’
‘Bina. I see what you’re considering, I’ve already tried it. And before you ask, I don’t understand how their communication works either.’ He pulled her into an embrace. ‘I’ll never let anyone separate us again.’
She wondered if Meciel communicated with the Fallen Star and if they did what the Fallen Star had told him of her time in Hermonial. Whatever Meciel knew, he kept well guarded and that didn’t surprise her. He’d been a mystery at Barakel and she didn’t think she’d ever unravel the extent of who and what he was.
‘I have something for you. I meant to give this to you earlier, but I didn’t want to let it go.’ He lifted the green shard of their Ma’s necklace from his cloak.
Mirah clasped her hand around his. She understood how much he clung to the shard and the memory of their Ma. ‘You keep it.’
‘But it’s yours.’
‘Not anymore.’
❊
They departed for Isriq the following day to the sound of horses’ hoof beats and marching footsteps. Tribes were arranged according to their standards, and the Crimson Lion’s banner led the procession. The Brown Ox, Yellow Cross Swords and many others followed. The largest tribe with the Green Adder banner taking up the rear.
They rode through a grassy valley and met with a rushing river flowing from the basin of a mountain range. As they travelled, the path narrowed and irregular granite boulders made way for slender waterfalls.
Hedging them in were lofty snow crested mountains with shady conifers surrounding their base. Eagles screeched, protecting their nests. Terra ignored them, soaring high in the hazy blue sky.
Ahead, Neviah shifted in her saddle. Mirah tapped her bay horse’s ribs and trotted up beside her.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked. ‘I know it’s been a while, but it’s not like we haven’t ridden horses before.’
‘If I’d known we’d be riding today, I wouldn’t have done what I did last night.’
‘Oh,’ Mirah said, her face blushing. ‘Did you take a tonic?’
‘Of course, I did. I’m not an idiot.’ Neviah glared at her from across her dapple grey pony.
‘When Zeev breaks off to the mines. You should go with him.’
‘Are you sure?’ Neviah asked, her shoulders relaxing.
‘Stay with him. You should be happy.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Neviah grumbled, shifting again.
They stopped by a lake before nightfall. Nate and Zeev left to make sure the War Chiefs organised lookouts over the camp.
He’d ordered that no fires be lit but the high moon reflected its silvery ambience on the lake. The motion of shimmering water reminded her of Galia’s hair.
The tribesmen went to the lake to wash and swim. She sat some distance away and watched Neviah splashing water at Ayla and for a moment they were all back in Barakel. In-between splashes Neviah often looked over the camp searching for Zeev.
Knowing Neviah and Ayla were going to the mines instead of Isriq lifted her spirits. She hoped, at least in the mines, amongst the smelting iron ore and its gases, Neviah wouldn’t risk wielding fire. Ayla had argued at first, saying she wanted to stay near Meciel and keep track of Abela. She’d relented when Nate explained those at the mines would need a healer.
Nate and Zeev sauntered over, stripped to the waist and waded into the water. Refined for war, every muscled curvature a testament to their strength.
Zeev grabbed Neviah and pulled her under. He was formidable but nowhere near like Nate. Masculinity drooled off Nate in droves as he stood facing over the lake.
‘You should come in,’ Ayla said, wading out of the water.
‘It’s too crowded.’
Covered in horse sweat, she’d spent most of the day swishing away horse flies and her face stung with the never-ending nips from midges.
Ayla rummaged around in her sack and threw a small pot over to Mirah. ‘Salve, for the bites.’
She sniffed at the creamy salve. ‘This smells awful. What is it?’
‘Petrified spines of sea urchin. It will sooth away the sting.’
She debated whether to use the salve as Ayla searched for dry clothes. Neviah shrieked in excitement as Zeev chased her through the water.
‘I’m going to change,’ Ayla said.
Mirah settled on her bedroll listening to the others playing in the water. Soon the camp noise turned into low murmurs, snoring and cautious footsteps.
The fresh grassy scent, the gentle lapping of the lake and the people surrounding her, ready to take back what belonged to them filled her with hope. Nate lay down, and she rested in his embrace. She drew her staff closer to prevent someone from tripping over it and closed her eyes.
‘You are nothing more than a shadow,’ she told the Beast.
❊ 37 ❊
Nate and Gabe stood before the War Chiefs. Zeev had marched out before sunrise leading tribesmen under the standards of the Brown Ox, the Grey Wolf and the Green Adder with him.
The three tribes combined amounted to four thousand men. Nate hoped it would be enough. He’d watched them leaving armed with farming sickles, hoes and axes. Those more fortunate carried wooden shields, spears, slings and swords. He understood now why Ammo insisted on attacking Shargaz’s mines. They needed its steel.
The War Chiefs waited for Gabe to begin. Earlier, Nate sent three men to scout out Isriq. They’d returned early that morning to report on a well-defended city and that Shargaz built his residence within a dormant volcano. They didn’t risk straying too close and had no idea about the portal.
Nate had already briefed Gabe on the wisest tactical strategy and advised him that the War Chiefs needed to hear it from him.
Gabe paced in front of them. He was young and inexperienced but nothing about him stood out as a fraud.
With a stick, Gabe drew two circles in the sand. ‘This is Isriq city, and that is the volcano,’ he said pointing to each circle. To the War Chief with the Red Lion sigil, he said, ‘You are to come up between Isriq city and the west side of the volcano. I need you to hold the ground.’ He sketched a line in the sand between the circles to emphasise the position. ‘Do not go into the city. I don’t want innocent citizens harmed. You’re to prevent Shargaz’s forces stationed in the city from crossing towards the volcano.’
Sliding the stick to the south of the city, he directed his attention to the War Chief with the Yellow Crossed Swords sigil, ‘You will come from the south. I expect Shargaz’s forces to attack our men positioned between the city and the volcano. Instruct your men to come up behind and block them.’
Turning to the War Chief wearing the Eagle over the Burdened Blue Sky sigil, he said, ‘You come from the east and focus your attack on the volcano.’ He slid the stick to the circle representing the volcano. ‘I will meet you there.’
‘What about the north?’ the Yellow Cross Swords War Chief asked.
‘Leave the north to me,’ Gabe answered. ‘I will be leaving soon to enter the city. Before you follow send scouts ahead to take out any patrols. Charge tomorrow at nightfall. Any questions?’
The War Chiefs shook their heads.
‘Good, then let’s start this war.’
Whatever Gabe thought of himself, Nate heard his authority and the War Chiefs he directed, determined it as well.
Nate had wanted to sneak ahead himself and spy out Isriq but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Mirah behind. He had no clue what caused her to return to him. When she’d ran into his room, seeing no blood, he’d thought the worst, that someone had ravished her.
She’d felt so small, so cold and shivering. Kiss me, was the last thing he’d expected to hear fall from her lips.
He loved the feeling of her embracing him, reacting to him, her unspoken communication escaping in those little sounds, anticipating what was to come. He’d craved to discover every part of her, learn how she touched and moved against him.
When she’d pleaded, he fought against the fear he might still lose her and the throbbing ache raging against him. She deserved more than a rotting timber Command Centre. Deep inside he knew this wasn’t their time.
❊
The city of Isriq lay on the far side of the mountain range. Disguised as merchants, they had a day to trek through the pass and sneak into the city before the War Chiefs marched.
Nate and Gabe led the horse whilst Mirah, Meciel and Galia rode in the cart.
In the mountain pass, out of the corner of his eye, he often saw the shimmer of sunlight reflecting off steel. If his assumptions were correct Shargaz’s sentries should be preoccupied, most likely drunk and attended to by women paid enough to traipse outside the city. After all, who was foolish enough to march an army against the Supreme Smiter?
He counted eight guard posts and hoped the scouts did their job well. If they didn’t, their men would become trapped inside the mountain pass. He hated the idea but could see no other way to get the men through.
They reached the edge of the city at sunset. In the diminishing light, black volcanic rock out of which their habitations were made, submitted beneath a tremendous white idol rising over the city. From here he couldn’t quite make out its form through it reared on hind legs and wielded an indistinguishable weapon with particular menace.
Pulling off the track, they hid their cart and freed the horse. They crept under the camouflage of pine trees, coming up on the west side of the city.
After assessing the dyed fabrics drying in the small courtyard, he figured the nearest building belonged to a weaver. He barged through the door, sword raised and nearly vomited at the stench.
An elderly woman with gnarled hands holding up her linen fringed skirt halted with her knee half lifted in the air. She stood in a pail, crunching dried beetles under her feet. He noted her spindle legs dyed crimson up to her shins. The stench, he realised came from another pail, piss he assumed.
‘This is your lucky day,’ Nate said swallowing.
An old man with wispy, white hair jumped up from a loom.
‘Do not move,’ Nate warned.
The man froze.
Nate glanced around the room. ‘Anyone else?’
The old man looked at his wife.
‘Sit,’ he sa
id, to the woman, pointing his sword towards a stool by the table. ‘You as well, over there,’ he ordered the old man. He backed to the doorway and raised his hand to call over the others. With everyone inside, he closed the door.
‘We won’t hurt you,’ Mirah reassured them. ‘We need somewhere to stay until tomorrow.’
‘Is that stew?’ Meciel asked, sniffing the air.
How he couldn’t smell the overwhelming odour of piss was beyond him.
The woman nodded, her wise eyes widening.
‘I love a good stew,’ Meciel said, lifting up the ladle.
With the number of weapons everyone carried, the old man and his wife didn’t create a fuss.
‘Galia can you get rid of that,’ he asked, nodding to the offensive pail.
After they’d eaten, Nate slipped out. He tightened the hood of his cloak and slid through the darkness. Every step he took from Mirah tugged against him. The pressure to rush ahead and return sooner clashed against his training and he willed himself to listen to caution.
He kept to the volcano’s south side, it would be closest when the legions arrived. The stink of shit hit his senses before reaching the cesspit. He’d have groaned if not for revealing his position, everything about this place reeked. He followed the slurry which led to the volcano, its sides a jagged formation of sharp-edged black rock.
Thick sludge seeped out an old iron grate. After a quick survey, he clutched the bars and heaved. One bar snapped off in his hand. He paused, waiting for guards to raise the alarm. When he heard nothing, he gripped the edge of the grate’s frame and pulled again.
The grate ground against the rock and he searched for any sign someone overheard him. He was about to abandon the grate and move on when it loosed and came free. After wiping rusty hands onto his pants, he hunched over and entered a low bearing tunnel. So foul was the stench, he drew his cloak over his nose.
