They worked without speaking. Nicola measured again. Dain cut. The heavy hammer rang out against the steel chisel. The chalky stone cracked, split, and then shattered. Dain selected a second chisel, a smaller one, and trimmed away any protrusions that misshaped the block out of square.
“Do you think something’s happened?” Nicola asked him one evening after they’d settled down into their evening meal. Unsha hadn’t come again.
“I don’t know.” He was careful in his response. A miss-spoken word could send the Pyre Rider spiraling over despair’s edge again, he suspected. At the same time, he didn’t want to keep her hopes too high, where one day they could be shattered. Like a stone block, doubts could crack a person, then split and shatter them just the same.
What to say, then?
“We will survive this. I’m sure of it,” he said. “One day we will walk out of here and be free again. But today, tomorrow, and the next day we will shape our two blocks.”
Nicola stared at the fire. She turned and faced the starry night. A falling star flashed on the western horizon.
“I believe you,” she said, just above a whisper.
Three weeks after her last visit, Unsha returned.
“Food here!” Unsha cried in her raspy voice.
Looking like she would burst, Nicola sprang to her feet, but Unsha held a withered finger to her lips, signaling for silence. The stooped woman eyed a pair of passing guards. After they had gone and Unsha dished up their food, they all huddled up together.
Nicola spoke first.
“What happened? Where have you been?”
“I was reassigned to the far end. The bearer there ‘gave up the work’.”
‘Gave up the work’ Dain knew, was the Tyberon expression for a slave’s death.
“How are you here, then?” Nicola asked.
Unsha smiled crookedly.
“Fendal, the girl who had this area, came down sick tonight.” The old woman’s grin widened. “Might have been something she ate.”
There was a devious twinkle in the old woman’s eyes that gave Dain pause. If Unsha were capable of poisoning a fellow prisoner she was capable of more, much more, than he’d suspected.
And does it matter? She’s still our best and only chance at escape.
He didn’t suppose it did. The frail waif next to him, a skeletal frame in loose rags, had burned hundreds of men alive. Behind her clear gray eyes was the mind and soul of a remorseless killer. And who was he to judge either Nicola or Unsha? He himself had pillaged and razed a town. He fought and killed for wealth over honor. They had all done what they had to do in order to survive, and would do so again.
“What more can you tell us?” Nicola asked.
“Tomorrow night, when the warriors lead the great Mantal to the city’s gates, your mother will come for you. A few others and I will be with her. You must be ready. I would have brought you extra food these last few days, but that can’t be helped now.”
“Won’t Fendal return?”
Nicola had asked it and Dain wished she hadn’t. Ruthless the girl might be, but she was also still young and naive to some things.
Throwing back her head, Unsha cackled. Nicola gave a puzzled look first to the Tyberon and then to Dain; one he ignored.
“No,” Unsha said after composing herself, “no, Fendal most certainly won’t be returning.” With a dirty brown rag, she dabbed tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes.
“I’ll leave you both now,” she continued after a moment. “I’ve others to feed and the guards will be suspicious if I stay longer. Do not forget, tomorrow night, when the moon rises and the warriors lead Mantal, we will come for you.”
“How exactly are we escaping?” Dain said.
“No time for that now. All will be revealed tomorrow night. Just be ready.”
With that, the crooked old woman shouldered her cloth-wrapped pots and shambled away, fading into the maze of cut blocks.
CHAPTER SIX
The following day, Dain threw himself into the work. He didn’t push himself too hard, not wanting to tire to exhaustion, but he stayed busy enough to keep his mind distracted and his thoughts off escape. He wanted to hit the two-block minimum in case escape didn’t come.
And if I think on it too much, he cautioned himself, the day will never end.
Nicola didn’t follow his example. The girl stared down into the pit, straining her eyes in vain to see her mother. Despite Unsha’s instructions to wait for evening, she seemed to expect Jensen at any moment.
Dain wanted to tell her to stop. To work, as he did. Instead he shook his head at himself and kept chiseling. It’s not worth it. She won’t listen.
In the afternoon, midway through the second block, he paused. He sat beside Nicola, drinking from their red clay waterpot. Her eyes never left the pit. She seemed to be in a trancelike state, caught between two worlds like a ship approaching an unmapped harbor. Were the waters calm or treacherous?
He worked alone to finish the last block just before sunset.
Dain began building a fire when the bright moon started to shine in the purple sky. Despite the day’s summer heat the nights remained chilly. Normally, Nicola would trickle the tiniest bit of her power into the fuel but, anticipating her mood, he had kept a few embers burning all day. Once he coaxed the orange flames to life, she spoke.
“Why bother?”
“What?”
“Why the fire? We are leaving tonight, so why bother building one?” Nicola paused. Her eyes were fierce and she held her thin chin high. “You don’t think she’ll come. You’re wrong. She will come and prove you wrong.”
Dain saw through her confident words. I’m not the only one with doubts. She protested her belief too strongly. If her hopes crashed now, there would be no saving her.
“When they get here, they may need a light to see by, and if we run through the cold all night at least we’ll be warm for a while.”
Nicola didn’t say anything more, whether because she agreed or not, he didn’t know. She turned her eyes away from him; her chin stayed high. The day’s light was spent and still she stared into twilight’s sooty gray.
What would he do if she took her own life?
Better to try and escape or try fighting my way out than wait for a spear if she doesn’t make it, he decided. He would go down as a warrior, weapon in hand and a ring of dead enemies around him. He knew that he should have done so when the Tyberons had captured them. He was ready to die then, but now something in him refused to surrender. Hope? Some deep belief that he would survive and escape somehow? To his side, Nicola heaved an anxious sigh.
With his thoughts distracted, he didn’t hear Unsha’s shambling steps and clanking pots. Nicola did. She called out as soon as the craggy woman’s features caught the firelight.
Six shackled prisoners followed in her wake like ducklings. All were Tyberons, chained in pairs and each carrying a red-stained spear.
Ducklings with teeth, Dain thought, eyebrows raised.
“Hurry, use your strength to free us,” Unsha hissed.
She rolled up her sleeve and revealed a bracelet similar to Nicola’s. She held it out to Dain and motioned for him to break it.
Dain paused. The food-bearer could cast, then. She hadn’t mentioned this. And why didn’t I see the bracelet before? She’s been by here a hundred times and I’ve never seen it.
“We haven’t got all night,” she said.
Dain charged his hammer with a touch of Light as the old woman set the bracelet against a stone.
“This could sting a bit,” he said.
“Just leave me the hand,” she replied with a wry twist of her lips.
He swung a glancing blow and the empowered hammer shattered the bracelet into a dozen f
lying fragments. Nicola stepped up next. She placed her own wrist on the stone while Unsha gathered the broken pieces of bracelet. Dain swung a second time and freed the Pyre Rider. With a third he freed himself and the Tyberon warriors afterward.
“Where is my mother?” Nicola asked, her gaze darting this way and that.
A great swell of flames rolled like a rolling wave between the quarry and the city. Dimly they outlined an enormous shape. It faced them, and at its approach, the earth shuddered.
“Be not afraid. This is our escape,” Unsha reassured them. “Climb up onto his back when Mantal arrives. Nicola, Dain, and myself, along with the supplies, will ride near the head. The hunters will ride further back and protect the tegu’s flanks and rear.”
Dain heard her words, but was unable to turn away from the approaching terror. Its tail was as long as a ship and covered with thick scales. A double row of shark’s-tooth spikes rose from the beast’s back from neck to tail.
Half clothed, Jensen sat atop the lizard’s head. Her hands were palm down, fingers splayed wide, and she stared into the beast’s skull as if she could see its thoughts. She murmured something to it. Its tongue flicked out, tasting the night air. Seven men, all mercenaries, rode behind her, including one chained to her wrist. Each clung to a spike. And like the Tyberons, each carried a bloodied spear.
Dain had never seen an animal so large, or one that could move so fast in spite of its bulk.
Ride him? This is some vengeful dragon demi-god made flesh.
“Nicola, go and help Jensen. She’s barely mastering it. The rest of you, climb up,” Unsha said with urgency.
Nicola wasted no time scrambling up to sit beside Jensen and placing her own hands, palms down, beside her mother’s. Unsha’s hunters helped the old woman to the lizard’s back.
They must be more afraid of Unsha or their captors than their god, Dain thought. He followed after, grabbing up his tools as he went. He didn’t think he would be cutting any stone where they were going, but they were the closest things he had to weapons. He took a spot halfway up the tegu’s neck and clung to a bony spike there.
“Watch for spearmen,” Unsha said.
“What about the summoners and their elementals?” Dain called to Unsha.
“Taken care of already. A little Wolfsbane in their soup tonight.” Unsha cackled and then smiled the same crooked grin she’d worn when she’d mentioned Fendal, the serving girl.
Dain cringed. He’d seen a man poisoned with Wolfsbane once. Within an hour of eating it, the man had complained of burning inside and started vomiting. In the second hour, after bone-breaking convulsions, he’d died.
Whatever else she may be, Unsha is surely as ruthless as any Pyre Rider. Dain clutched his spike tighter.
The tegu, guided now by both Nicola and Jensen, turned away from the city and circled around the quarry’s edge at a walk toward the grasslands.
Contrary to Unsha’s assurances, a blast of green lightning flashed from the pit’s center. The bolt just missed them and Dain felt his hair stand on end. Thunder pounded in his ears. He drew on the Light and focused the power into his spellshield. It wouldn’t protect the whole animal, but he and the Pyre Riders wouldn’t take a direct hit.
“Get us out of here!” he urged.
He might as well have been yelling at stone. Neither Jensen nor Nicola stirred. The beast continued around the quarry, her lumbering flank exposed to the caster below.
“Save your breath and do something useful,” Unsha barked. “They’re too busy keeping us moving to be bothered.”
Dain marveled at the old woman’s transformation. This was no longer the bent and kindly old woman who brought them food. The harmless visage had been completely stripped away.
A second bolt flew from the pit and collided with Dain’s shields. The spell was strong—much stronger than he’d expected, and it arced around the spellshield and into the tegu’s scaled hide. Three men, all outside the protective shield, screamed. Fire flashed in their open mouths and eyes and smoke billowed out of their ruined faces.
One of the survivors, a mercenary, kicked the charred bodies free.
Lightning, blue this time, leaped from Unsha’s hands and into the pit below. In the span of a heartbeat, Dain saw the caster below evaporate. The air sizzled with the tang of electricity.
“Got him,” Unsha said, grinning fiercely.
Jensen and Nicola had the beast moving faster now. The tegu started to shuffle, then to scramble. Dain felt its heartbeat quicken beneath him. He turned his eyes to the grasslands and to freedom.
One obstacle remained. Ahead of them, where the tall grass met the open fields, a knot of spearmen waited. The Pyre Riders turned Mantal, aiming it directly at them. The tegu crashed through the guards without pause, scattering men and spears alike, and then they were into the grass and away.
But to where, Dain wondered.
The Pyre Riders brought Mantal to a stop with the rising sun.
Everyone dismounted. Exhausted completely, Nicola had to be lowered down to Dain by her mother. He cradled her in his arms.
So light, he marveled. The months of cutting stone had built up his strength, but she was wasted away.
Was it the withdrawal from casting or just the loss of her freedom?
Jensen dismounted. She took a moment to pause and inspect her daughter. In the newborn sun Dain could see the resemblance. Jensen’s auburn hair and green eyes matched Nicola’s. Their lips were the same shape, and on Jensen’s face was the same familiar expression Nicola often wore. There were subtle differences too. The older woman’s freckles had faded into her cheeks, her nose was sharper and more prominent, and the skin around her eyes was wrinkled into shallow crow’s feet.
“She’s too thin. Has she been eating?” Jensen asked.
“Recently, yes. And at first. But for a time she lost her way. I tried to help her,” Dain said.
“She showed me.”
Showed me? He had ridden near the Pyre Riders, and they hadn’t spoken a single word the entire trip. His confusion must have shown on his face, and Jensen spoke again.
“When we control Mantal together our thoughts are linked with the beast’s and with each other. Nicola showed me what happened.”
“I should have done more,” Dain said. He didn’t know what else to say. He turned to join the others.
“You did enough. Thank you.”
Dain didn’t think Jensen was one to offer thanks lightly or often. A hard woman, he decided, one who will do whatever it takes to survive.
The escaped slaves slept in shifts throughout the day, a Tyberon and mercenary on watch at all times. Unsha assured them that nothing would approach with Mantal around, but they kept the watch regardless. The bent woman only smiled and shook her head. She fluffed up a bundle of grass and nodded off.
In the early evening, after they’d eaten from Unsha’s pots, the nocturnal beast began to stir. Like Unsha, the Pyre Riders had slept throughout the day. They woke when the tegu moved and placed their hands on its scaled flank, their touch calming it almost instantly.
The group packed what little they had as the tegu rose to its full height. It leaned to the right, putting less weight on its left leg, Dain noticed. He mentioned it to Jensen.
“She is injured. The lightning went through that side,” Jensen said.
“She?” Dain asked. “Mantal sounds like a male god.”
“Mantal the god may be, but this…she is female. In many species the females are larger.”
Dain walked to Mantal’s left side. He still thought of him…her as Mantal. One name was as good as any. He swung wide around the whiplike tail to see the wound himself.
He smelled it before he saw it. A charred, ashen odor and sickly sweet rot. A swath of scale was burnt black. A
few had started to curl up and flake away, and a trickle of blood and yellow-tinged puss oozed from beneath them.
“How far to the river?” Jensen asked from the tegu’s head.
“At last night’s pace, three days,” Unsha replied.
“She won’t make it. Worse she may become uncontrollable if nothing is done,” Jensen said. She leaned over to whisper to Nicola.
Dain said nothing. He had seen wounds like this before, and though Mantal was larger than any animal he was familiar with, the injury looked mortal. He placed a hand on one of the blackened scales. It was hot to the touch.
Fever. She won’t make it three days. She won’t make two.
“Can you do anything for her?” Nicola was looking at him.
“She’s big. Very big. And she’ll soak up healing like a sponge,” he said. He felt the tegu’s aura through his hand. The sickness seemed to pulse. It would take weeks to walk back to the river on foot. Weeks of skirting Tyberon patrols, weeks of seeking waterholes, weeks of dodging other tegu, weeks of scrounging for food. They’d never make it.
“I will try, even if it only saves us a day’s walk.”
“I will help Nicola control her while you heal what you can,” Jensen said. She gave him a steely look.
Dain heard the implied order. He wasn’t sure if Jensen even knew she’d given it. This was a woman used to being obeyed. Dain wondered for a moment about Nicola’s father. It would take a strong man to match Jensen.
Switching his focus back to the task at hand, he studied the wound again. How to begin? His training on healing was incomplete. There had been a war to fight and his instructors only skimmed the subject.
He stepped closer to the tegu’s injured side, raised an open palm, and began praying. A tiny, flashing spark of pure white appeared, floating above his hand. As he prayed and focused on the Light, it grew. The spark pulsed with crackling life. Dain felt the great lizard under his other hand and judged the healing that was needed. It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t hope to draw enough Light for what Mantal required. Still, he pulled harder, drew deeper. He pulled until his head felt like splitting and his chest like bursting. The Light felt like magma in his veins.
River of Spears (Kingdom's Forge Book 0) Page 9
