The Lashki closed his eyes and listened to the contented, oceanic murmurs of the spirits of the East. He had done right in performing the Soul Breaker’s Curse on Rafen a year ago, even though he had almost killed himself yet again. The Curse had broken the close, innate protection that every healthy soul has around it, and Rafen was now open to the full attacks of Nazt. Nazt was pleased with the Lashki. It no longer shrieked at him or sapped him of power. The rod no longer tried to escape him. Even though Nazt had reproved the Lashki for his weakness right after the Soul Breaker’s Curse, it realized, too, that Rafen had been weakened. Nazt could now speak far more directly into his mind than it had ever been able to. Nazt itself could pursue Rafen, while the Lashki reinforced it by generally making the boy’s life more difficult. The Lashki was treading the correct path, the path that would lead to the greatest of all advancements: the death of the only one who could theoretically destroy Nazt, the voices of which were the wisest of instructors.
He held the copper rod as if it were a fishing rod, and he could already see Rafen hanging from its end, helpless, caught by a hook in his jaw.
No, Rafen was not aggravating. The Lashki had much in store for him. It was Fritz’s appearance that was aggravating. The Lashki narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder as Annette spoke quietly to seven philosophers who had returned from hunting in a different area of the palace. He would have believed that Fritz was merely an apparition if he hadn’t fought with such vigor. But he was a physical being that Rafen had somehow evoked – and he, along with Rafen’s worthless friend and brother, was eluding him cunningly.
If Fritz was already dead, could he be killed? The Lashki curled his upper lip. Annette approached him meekly, skirting the pillars.
“Master, I think we have narrowed down the possibilities of where they could be,” she said, bowing her head. Her fear was apparent in the tension of her pale neck.
“Annette,” the Lashki said, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her head. She met his eyes with a little gasp. “Do you believe I can kill your grandfather again? Come. What do you think? Should I do it?”
Annette stared at him, probably trying to divine if he were really asking her advice. He wasn’t. He merely wanted to see what his minion thought and whether it coincided with his schemes.
“I think,” Annette said, “that if the boy is weakened enough, Fritz will vanish in good time, like a ghost. I think you have already killed him, and he will not return ever again once Rafen is dead. Perhaps… perhaps the previous Runi live in the Fourth, Master—”
“Then we are hunting a shadow.”
“You are that sure of the boy’s death, Master?” Annette asked, her lip trembling.
“I am,” the Lashki said.
*
Rafen was stiff by morning, though still warm, because Etana was huddled close to him. She had slept soundly all through the night. He had kept watch from the time he had woken up, and though Nazt had worked hard to distract him, he was scarcely interested as he felt the little one moving within his wife. It was unbelievable that three months before this, he would never have dreamed of being a husband or father. One night had changed his life.
He straightened, his thoughts turning to food. He wasn’t really worried for himself, but Etana was pregnant. Shifting Etana slightly so that she leaned completely against the rock, he struggled to his feet. The mountain goat had gone. Rafen saw it and its fluffy white friends receding over a distant icy slope. He supposed it must be very cold up here, for it to be so snowy in the middle of summer. Adelphia was right; it was kesmalic.
Pain burst into being in his side as he stepped through Etana’s unseen shield and out of the circle of monoliths, surveying the surrounding land. If his wound held out a little longer, he could probably hunt for breakfast.
A group of three people with a horse were making their way up the slope below. Rafen’s hands grew sweaty within his mittens. He narrowed his eyes, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. With a burst of strength, he extended his vision. Francisco was staggering next to Sherwin and Trinity, and Fritz led the horse by the halter.
“Etana,” Rafen said, bounding back to her – or trying to. The result was more like hunchbacked limping. The pain in his side checked any sudden movements. He bent over her, and her eyes flicked open.
“Oh, Rafen,” she said, “please don’t tell me they’ve found us.”
“It’s the others,” Rafen said. “Francisco, Sherwin, and Fritz.”
Etana’s eyes lit up. “I knew they would be safe. You were worried. Don’t help me up. You’re too weak.”
When Rafen still reached down to grab her hands, Etana kicked him in the leg.
“Ow.”
“Don’t help me. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I can see that,” Rafen grumbled.
She rose and moved out of the monoliths, dispelling her shield with rapid movements from her scepter. Rafen observed, trying to memorize what she was doing. She turned back to him, looking white.
“Rafen, what if it’s a trick? What if they are imposters or it’s another trap?”
“My phoenix feather isn’t boiling, Etana.”
Etana hesitated. Kasper’s dying face was reflected in her eyes. Then she waved to the others. They paused uncertainly for a minute before Fritz waved back. Rafen moved over to her side and wrapped an arm around her while they waited. Sherwin started running, and Francisco quickened his pace, despite his weariness.
“Thank God,” Sherwin panted when he reached them. “China, when we found the ’orse, it – well, it didn’ look good.”
He moved uncertainly, as if he thought of hugging them both and then thought better of it. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. Rafen was glad to see his spirits had picked up since yesterday. Fritz must have spoken sense into him.
“You are both unharmed then?” Fritz said as he paused before the monoliths.
“Yes,” Etana said, moving forward to embrace him gingerly, as if she were afraid he might vanish in a cloud of smoke.
Fritz gave her a one-armed hug and planted a dignified kiss on her forehead.
“You seem well,” he said. “Rafen looks appalling. His jaw in particular… you had best rest, Rafen.”
“I’m fine,” Rafen said, struggling to remember what had happened to his jaw. He vaguely recalled Asiel’s fist sailing toward him. “How did you all get away?”
“Fritz made part o’ the roof collapse,” Sherwin said.
“My brother,” Francisco said, moving forward and embracing him.
Rafen lit another fire, and Fritz fed them all some dried meat and herbs Adelphia had packed. He also cleared some snow and found various edible succulent plants and sagebrush to keep against harder times. They sat down in a circle.
“We must be on in ten minutes,” Fritz told them.
“So much for Raf restin’,” Sherwin said. “I should ’ave known yer didn’ know what the word ‘rest’ means.”
While Fritz raised an eyebrow at what he probably deemed impudence, Francisco smiled wanly.
“We didn’t stop all night,” he said. “There were many enemies after us. His Majesty Fritz confused them by causing part of a pillar to burst, but then we became lost after taking a staircase within the mountain.”
“And there were about five ’undred Naztwai on our jumpin’ jacks,” Sherwin said.
“I am sorry,” Fritz said, looking askance at Sherwin.
“Eh?” Sherwin said.
Rafen translated Sherwin’s cockney for Fritz.
It seemed like only two minutes had passed before Fritz rose and started stamping out the fire. The cold rolled over Rafen like a wave. He stood with effort. Sherwin and Fritz tried forcing him onto the horse, even though he protested Francisco should ride, since he looked like he was about to collapse. When this didn’t work, Rafen glanced at Etana.
“Etana should ride. She’s in worse condition than me.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sherwin said, and
Rafen looked at him in shock, wondering how he had found out about the pregnancy. “We can’ really deny she’s a woman.”
Etana shot him a black look.
“Trinity will go too slowly when bearing two,” Fritz said.
“Etana’s pregnant,” Rafen said sharply. “I can walk.”
Sherwin’s jaw dropped. Francisco looked even paler, and his eyes widened.
Fritz started. “Perhaps you mean she is in confinement,” he said in a low voice.
“Perhaps I mean she’s pregnant,” Rafen said. “She was in confinement when Richard was holding her.”
Fritz looked entirely scandalized. “Then she must ride,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I have no objection to make, but you will be expected to walk.”
“That’s what I said,” Rafen said through gritted teeth, throwing him a mutinous look.
Etana mounted with dignity, trying to ignore the stares Sherwin and Francisco were giving her lower torso, as if something unusual was about to explode into view.
“This way,” Fritz said, indicating a northerly direction.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fritz’s
Prophecy
They set off further up the slope, the frosty wind blowing faint, powdery snow in their faces. Rafen drew his cloak closer around himself and tried to focus on the peregrine falcons and golden eagles that occasionally flew overhead. He would not give the pain his full attention. Confound Sherwin. Etana would have had a much more helpful husband at this time if his friend hadn’t been so foolish.
Perhaps Sherwin could mind read. Within five minutes of watching Rafen floundering amid the snow and flapping at spirits no one else could see, he was at Rafen’s shoulder, supporting him as they ascended.
“About yesterday…” Rafen began.
“I shouldn’ta done it,” Sherwin cut across him, aghast. He met Rafen’s gaze, tears in his eyes. “I was so tired after fightin’ the Naztwai. Etana’s goin’ to ’ate me now.”
“You mustn’t torture yourself about it,” Rafen said. “I know it’s easier said than done. Yet if you punish yourself, it will only destroy you. Please, Sherwin. You know I was partially responsible as well. I was worried you were going to do yourself violence.”
“I’ve been forbidden to,” Sherwin said darkly.
“By who?”
“Franny spoke to me yesterday,” Sherwin said, changing the topic. “’e said ’e understood. ’e even said anyone can make a mistake in these Mountains.” He took a shuddering breath. “Only mine caused someone’s death.”
“Would Kasper hate you for this?” Rafen asked.
“Wha’?” Sherwin said thickly. “No. ’e was a forgivin’ feller.”
“Then you shouldn’t hate yourself for it either, else you dishonor his memory.”
Sherwin nodded, his head bowed. Rafen glanced back. Francisco was toiling along in their wake, glancing behind himself repeatedly, his balaclava over one eye. Fritz led Trinity at the front, occasionally glancing back at Etana with watchful concern.
They paused only at evening, by which time Rafen was ready to collapse. Sherwin and he lowered themselves down to the stony floor of a wide, low cave Fritz had found in the mountainside. Rafen was trembling uncontrollably. Though the world outside was white, he couldn’t tell if it was because of a blizzard or because spirits filled his vision. As he fought Nazt, he was vaguely aware of Francisco saying, “But it is on the map, for a surety.”
“I do not have the map, Francisco,” Fritz said. “I dropped it near that accursed emerald smoke.” He sat hunched in the cave opening, a stubborn block against the wind.
At the mention of the smoke, Francisco looked away, his arms wrapped tightly around himself and his mouth stretched. Kasper had saved his life once, and they had gotten along well in Fritz’s Hideout.
Trinity had lain down near the left wall of the cave, and Etana slithered over to Rafen, removed his mittens, and rubbed his frigid hands in hers.
“I’m all right,” Rafen said, moving away, infuriated at his own weakness. He created a fire in the middle of the cave.
“Don’t worry,” Etana said. “This is a passing thing.”
By the strain in her voice, Rafen knew she was thinking of Kasper and death, and how nobody had listened to her except her poor brother.
“Etana, get some rest,” Fritz said coldly from the cave entrance. “You do not understand how harmful your exertions may be for your child.”
Etana leaned against the stone wall that Rafen was propped up against and clutched his hand in hers. Sherwin’s blurry face was staring at Rafen with something akin to wonder or admiration. Rafen was mentally questioning what he had done that was so valiant when Fritz said loudly from ahead, “You should have waited, Rafen. It is no credit to you.”
Rafen knew simply by thinking of the Phoenix that Zion agreed. Fritz’s words were the last thing he heard before he sank into dreamless sleep.
*
The next three weeks were a blur and a constant panic. He had a seizure once every three or four days and often fell asleep out of sheer weariness, only to have the strangest dreams about Nazt… Kasper was in them. Sometimes he was part of the twisted wall of limbs and faces. Other times, he was a cold corpse on the ground of the Cursed Woods, and Rafen knew he had killed him.
Fritz made him take turns with Etana to ride Trinity. Sometimes Fritz carried him on his back, but most of the time Rafen insisted on walking, trying to fend off his own weakness with kesmal. Etana told him he was sick and had a fever. She begged him not to feel bad about it, because Francisco also had it, and once collapsed on the mountain track. Sherwin had come down with something too, and suffered spasms and vomiting. Only Fritz and Etana remained strong: Fritz, because he was somehow removed from their trials, even though he was part of this journey; and Etana, because Rafen prayed for her with every waking thought. He felt somehow that Zion had placed a special blessing on the head of their child.
He kept thinking someone was going to find them; someone was going to shoot arrows in their backs or blow their heads apart with kesmal. Yet the silence in the Mountains was oppressive. Even the wolverines and mountain goats were avoiding them now. It was the waiting that was the worst… it played tricks with all their minds. One week, they had to shelter in a network of caves during a blizzard. Fritz had been as restless as a caged wolf.
At last, there came a day when Rafen woke feeling somewhat refreshed. He was lying on a narrow, stony path walled in by rock, and he struggled to sit up, his hands slipping on the spoon moss. The pain he had expected was only a dull ache beneath one set of ribs.
Although he looked left and right for Etana, she was not sleeping near him. Francisco was at his side, reclining against the rocky wall, his face flushed beneath his balaclava. Sherwin lay a little way from him, looking drawn.
Rafen rose slowly, his limbs shaking. His heart leapt around impatiently inside him. Where was Etana?
She was crouched ahead, pressed up against Trinity for warmth, her face small and white within the hood she wore. Under the folds of her many garments, her chest rose and fell gently with sleep. Fritz stood before Trinity, facing the path ahead and scanning the crests of the rocky walls for any enemies. His eyes lingered on the immense span of a golden eagle above. He turned his head at Rafen’s movement.
“You are better again,” he said with a grim smile. “I was weary of carrying you.”
“You didn’t have to carry me much,” Rafen said, flushing.
“You scarcely know,” Fritz said, in the patient tone of an adult speaking to a child.
Rafen was strongly reminded of training with Erasmus. Some of his old irascibility reared up within him, but it was checked by the memory of Erasmus’ abrupt death, and later, the death of his daughter. He clenched his teeth.
“Etana is no longer nauseous,” Fritz said softly. “But she will lose strength as the months continue.”
Rafen’s eyes were drawn to Etana’s cloaked
bodice.
“The child is still healthy,” he said, unwilling to hear anything to the contrary.
“You have defied all laws of decency,” Fritz said.
Rafen stared at him. “We’re married,” he said.
“Marriage does not make all things permissible. You might have spared her this.”
Rafen grew hot within his cloak. A million things were on the tip of his tongue: I didn’t know; I didn’t expect this; only one night together… I was careful…
In the end, none of it ever crossed his lips. He looked at Fritz in bewilderment, Zion’s presence a silent accusation around him.
“You are young,” Fritz said. “You will have time to regret this, Rafen. She bears it well, and never says a word against you. Yet the child will be born either early or late, and much suffering will come from it.”
Rafen gazed down at his wife and remembered what Kasper’s death had already done to her. His eyes blurred.
*
He discovered later that day what Francisco had known for some time, and Sherwin had only guessed at. Fritz was lost – so hopelessly lost he didn’t know which mountain they were in. Francisco told him the king had traveled the Mountains innumerable times. However, the detour they had taken to the monoliths had begun it all. Fritz had mistaken the group of erect stones for another such cluster on the map and steered them into the heart of the Mountains, when they should have only taken the fringe to get to Parith. Now it would take them months to escape, and they were already running out of food.
The Fourth Runi (The Fledgling Account Book 4) Page 22
