Nu set his cart of clay pottery against the wall and knocked. He called inside, “I have delivery of special wares to the lady of the house.” He had practiced saying those words in the accent of Meldur all last night.
The door creaked open to reveal a slight dark woman whom Nu instantly recognized as one of Emzara’s friends, though he could not recall her name after a century and a half. His heart jumped, while the woman’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped. A tiny squeak escaped her throat like a startled mouse.
“You’ve come for us,” she almost shouted. “The Comforter sent by the vast A’Nu of E’Yahavah has come to us in our captivity!”
Nu put a finger to his lips to hush her. Her outburst collapsed on him like lead bludgeons of horror and shame that pummeled any composure he had mustered, leaving him dazed and listless. Of all the things for her to remember! Of all the expectations to fill! It dawned on him how his face must have burned in her mind the whole time since the Sack of Salaam-Surupag—or even before. It never seemed that anyone had taken his being the Comforter from A’Nu so seriously in those days. It now felt more like a curse than a prophecy. Maybe it always had.
“Can I come inside?”
“Of course, my Lord. Let me help you with your cart.”
After she shut the door behind them, she fell to her knees before him and wept.
Nu’s head swirled while his stomach flip-flopped. “Please, my Lady, I am sorry, but this is not what you think…”
Her eyes glowed manic with fervency. “You must have braved the Haunted Lands to lead us from captivity! For by no other route could you have come with the war!”
“Please stand up. You should not bow to me…”
“I knew you would come! Even when the others doubted! I knew you would come and fulfill all the prophecies of Comfort for us!” She buried her face in the carpet as her sobs became inconsolable. “We are not worthy of you! All of us—all of us are defiled and many have lost faith!”
The house shrank in on Nu, airless panic inside a coffin. What could he tell her? How could he tell her? She began to cling to his feet until he almost fell over backwards. He wanted to scrape her off his legs like flaming tar, but how could he?
“My Lady, please! I’m the failure! I can’t even remember your name, though you and my wife were like sisters! Forgive me!”
She continued to sob into the carpet and clutch at his legs. It was useless. She seemed not to even hear him.
“The Seer Clan has returned to Akh’Uzan,” he told her, hoping to turn her attention to better news. “Some of the women were rescued or escaped on their own. Our clan is growing again.”
“Biriya,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“My name is Biriya.”
He remembered. She was daughter of one of Muhet’Usalaq’s younger sons—he could not recall which.
Her hands relaxed from his calves and her weeping abated.
“Can we sit and talk awhile? I’m sure we both have many questions for each other.”
Biriya slid back onto her knees and slowly stood. “Of course; I am a poor hostess. I have not even brought you water, much less wine to wash out the dust of your long journey.”
“Water will be fine.”
When she returned, Nu saw that she had also taken time to compose herself. “We can sit in the greeting chamber. There is still more than an hour before my children return from Temple indoctrination and many more hours before my husband comes home from the foundry.”
She guided him to the next room, onto a large floor cushion. She took a smaller one opposite him.
“I must confess to you, Lady Biriya, I cannot at this time deliver you from your captivity. I wish I could.”
“But you will take us back?”
Nu’s swallow of water felt like acid. “Of course you will be taken back, but not until the war is won.”
“The war!” She spat. “It has already claimed my oldest son!”
“Your son lives. He told us how to contact you.”
Her eyes lit up. “Though he is son of a foreign man, at least he is son of a man—or mostly a man. My husband’s great-grandfather was a giant. Even so, I love the boy, for he was always good to his mother. Not all of us have been so fortunate.”
“You will see him again, but it may be some time yet.”
Her gray eyes tightened to little beads of steel. “What can we do to serve the Archon?”
“Are you still in contact with any of the others?”
“I speak with many of the captured women at market. Some even live in this street, though I fear not all can be trusted. A few have adjusted to their new lives a little too well, if you take my meaning. You are in danger here.”
“I know.” Nu’s eyes fell. “Are any of mine and Emza’s daughters among the others? If so, even if they cannot be trusted, please tell me?”
Biriya shook her head and wiped her eyes again. “I saw ‘Ranna and ‘Nissa during the long march, but we were separated. While they settled many women here, others were marched on to Assur’Ayur. Your girls were in that group. I’m afraid I don’t know what’s become of them. I wish I could give you such good tidings as you have given me today. I’m sorry.”
“At least they were alive and well enough to travel,” Nu said. “By E’Yahavah’s will they probably still live in some other city.”
“By E’Yahavah’s will,” agreed the Woman. “Now how may we serve our true lords?”
Her face did not flinch at all when Nu told her.
T
he evening forest shadows grew as the wagon turned onto the last stretch of road to its owner’s arboreal mansion. Only the Lead Assassin had accompanied A’Nu-Ahki on the long haul back to Telemnuk’s plantation. The five others remained behind at Meldur to establish the network and develop their contacts among the women. The Leader would run rubber shipments and information between there and the plantation, where a hidden ‘oracle’ would convey the take back to Tubaal-qayin.
The outfitting of most Assurim military units happened at the southern foundry city, where the women would see them come and go while they learned from the assassins how to identify the soldiers by unit insignia. Their husbands also talked at night about work in the weapon factories…
The journey back had been quiet. Nu had learned long ago that his companion was no talker. A tall dark man with long dark secrets, the Lead Assassin seemed beyond the need for human companionship.
“I don’t even know your right name,” Nu said aloud, half to himself.
“Loxal,” said the Assassin.
Nu turned toward his companion’s shaded profile. He had not expected an answer. “That’s the name you gave to the priest-sentry at Meldur. Are you also from Satyurati?”
“Kushtahar. It’s never a good idea to lie more than you must, Jek. Every time you lie, you have to remember your story. Pretty soon your life is made up of too many stories to keep straight.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
Loxal burst into throaty laughter. “You’ve been a pain in the backside of my kilt, Jek, but I’m glad to have known you!”
“Why is it you call me ‘Jek’? Do you always arbitrarily rename people after your own liking?”
The Assassin just chuckled some more, as he yanked the onager team into the yard beneath Telemnuk’s home.
Nu smiled. “Keep your mysteries, then.”
“Good‘nuff, Jek.”
Telemnuk met them at the spiral stair around his great cedar. “I trust everything went well?”
“Aye,” Loxal said. “And here?”
“I fear the Demigods lie in wait for you on the pass.”
“More gas bags?”
“Many more, I’m afraid—even at night, which is most unusual. They wait for the mountain inversions to settle long after sunset and then bathe the approaches with swords of quickfire light. Come upstairs and let me help you wash the dust from your mouths, and tell you more. I fear a harder j
ourney still awaits you.”
A’Nu-Ahki asked, “Could they have found the Firedrake?”
They entered the triangular sitting hall, and took cushions around a bottle of Telemnuk’s red wine.
“My sources at the Military City in Satyurati have heard nothing about any captured or destroyed armored chariots,” the Rubber Planter answered. “But they could be hushing it up.”
Loxal tossed back his wine in one long gulp. “I guess we find out starting tomorrow night.”
We beheld in the sky what appeared to us to be a mass of scarlet cloud resembling the fierce flames of a blazing fire. From that mass many blazing missiles flashed, and tremendous roars, like the noise of a thousand drums beaten at once. And from it fell many weapons winged with gold and thousands of thunderbolts, with loud explosions, and many hundreds of fiery wheels. Loud became the uproar of falling horses, slain by these missiles, and of mighty elephants struck by the explosions… Those terrible Rakshasas had the shape of large mounds stationed in the sky.
—The Mahabharata
15
Sky-Lords
N
u did not like the plan.
“If you’re going to stay on with Telemnuk, why risk yourself nurse-maiding me back to the Firedrake?”
“It’s my job, Jek. King ‘Baul-qayin T’muzi told me personal-like not to let anything happen to you. Though you be a good learner, you’re not trained to think like we do. The Guildies won’t be in the same place.”
Nu and Loxal left the road from Telemnuk’s house at sunset to exploit the inversion winds when the airships would have trouble navigating over the mountains. They were well into the upper foothills by midnight.
That was when they heard it.
The rumbling engine hum came suddenly from behind a rocky hillock off to their left. Nu froze when a shaft of white light shot through the night mists like a lance. The mountainside a few hundred cubits ahead exploded with a brilliance that made his eyes hurt.
“Don’t look at it, Jek! It’ll ruin your night vision.”
“What do we do?”
Loxal crouched behind some brush. “Sit here for a bit. It’s just a random sweep, probably for navigating the pass more than anything.”
“Why not just fly high over?”
“Oh they be searching the pass alright, make no mistake. Still, it’s a stab in the dark for them. No coincidence—they spotted the Firedrake or our treads on our way in. Worst case, they’ve destroyed it, landed and captured one of the Guildies. Guildies’ll sing if they’re caught and tortured. The Demigods could be expecting us.”
“Should we turn back?”
Loxal snorted. “What happened to ‘that’s my only ride back’ Jek? We don’t know nothing. Until we do, we stick to plan.”
Nu pointed to the receding lights in the sky as they slipped behind the mountains. “It’s going up through the pass.”
“Let’s get going.”
“I can’t see a thing!”
“Told’ya not to look at it! I’ll uncover the phosphor lamp for a couple seconds. Memorize the path ahead of you. The moon’ll be up over the mountain soon.”
Several more times they had to duck for cover while airships carved the night into ribbons with javelins of light. By dawn’s twilight, they made the tiny crevasse where they had camped before. But something was wrong.
“Jek, did you see the floaters come back through the pass after their last sweep?”
“No. I didn’t hear them high up either.”
Loxal said, “They took a fragment from our scroll.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fuel. They must’ve tanked extra to extend their range.”
“Or their duration aloft.”
Loxal grimaced as he pulled a dead thorn bush in front of their rocky sleeping place. “Kinda makes you wonder what else they’re carrying extra.”
I
nguska’s promotion to full altern felt heavy on his new shoulder-boards, especially with the commanding titan of Second Sky-Lords riding in his gondola.
Although two additional grenadiers to operate the light cannons don’t hurt none, the new airship commander thought. Not to mention the other extras.
The Vimana-class lighter-than-air ship’s gondola could support eight men aloft for three days when the aft bomb bay was loaded with an extra fuel tank. That could get an airship across the Haunted Lands to Akh’Uzan, but not back. The Vimana could not easily defend against the faster, more maneuverable aerodrone, however; thus, it had fallen in status from premier air-to-ground attack platform to behind-the-lines border patrol.
That did not mean it could not still function admirably in its original mission on a leveled playing field. And Inguska was sure that whatever they were playing cat-and-mouse with down below was about to discover that the field had been more than leveled.
For weeks, the patrol ships of Second Sky-Lords had made quickfire-light-etched plates of every square cubit of the region around the pass. Last night, more tracks had shown up on examination of the plate images, with subtle changes in the ground cover patterns from the day before—not the kind caused by a passing behemoth, either. A millipede tread vehicle and at least two men were definitely down there, shifting position and camouflage, thus changing the details of the landscape ever so slightly. The operation spawned by Inguska’s attention to detail was about to pay off.
“How soon until we are over the target area?” the Commanding Titan asked. He was an imposing hulk with a pair of short horns that broke from the front of his skull like sharp bony tumors that had cut their way out through his mottled skin from the inside.
Inguska said, “We’ve been crisscrossing it for a half hour, my Lord. We only wait for the sun.”
Four high-intensity quickfire pearls cowled by concave mirrors blasted from the airship’s cardinal bearings beneath the gondola’s outer mezzanine. The grenadiers manned these, scanning the ground below with penetrating shafts of white light.
The Titan asked, “Where are you from, Altern?”
“Northern Province, beyond the Two Rivers and along the eaves of Wyverna Wood, Lord.”
“Wild territory, that. Your hunter’s instinct has served you well.”
“You honor me too much, Holiness.”
“Not too much.” The Horned One sniffed. “How far back in your lineage to divinity?”
To any but a titan, Inguska would have proudly answered. Before the Horned One however, he felt dwarfed. “My father’s father is Ingdra, who led the Vanguard Giants at the invasion of Salaam-Surupag. He was a son of the gods who took seven women for himself there. My father was born to his first concubine, so I am third generation removed.”
“A respectable bloodline; you can make Arch-Tacticon with such a pedigree.”
But no higher, Inguska’s thoughts added. The levels of divinity were as immutable under Samyaza as the mountain range. Third generation was more than enough to get him into the Demigods, but not enough to get him to flag rank. He did not even look any different from a common earth-born man. At least his father carried the stigmata of six fingers on one hand.
The airship swung around again for another leg in its figure-8 search pattern. The other Vimanas farther out circled like the legendary celestial chariots of his all-too-distant divine forebears.
Inguska handed the con over to his co-pilot, and stepped out onto the mezzanine to take the night air. The hum of his vessel’s four rotary engines almost lulled him into a trance, until one of the grenadiers on the lighting pearls shouted.
“Ground contact, bearing three-five-null, off the port bow!”
T
he second night of A’Nu-Ahki and Loxal’s hike over the pass went uneventfully until just a couple hours before dawn.
They rounded a rocky outcropping where the trail began its last set of switchbacks down to where they had left the Firedrake. The early morning sky was suddenly alive with probing shafts of light that cut through the thin highland mists l
ike fiery razors. Nu counted six Samyaza gas bags circling over the immediate vicinity where he and the assassins had left their vehicle almost three months before.
Loxal said, “We better move quick. We’ll be badly exposed on the switchbacks.”
“Can we just cut straight down?”
“Too steep in the dark, Jek. You’ll twist your ankle or tumble down hard to a lasting stop. Follow me and jog; don’t run or you’ll go too fast to swing around the hairpins. If the lights hit us, dive to your belly. Maybe the ground mist’ll hide us a little. Keep thirty paces behind me; we don’t want to bunch too close and make a single target. Now, count to ten and go!”
Loxal began what otherwise would have been a leisurely trot down the hill side, with Nu a fair distance behind. There was just enough moonlight to see the trail in front of them.
They made it all the way to the first switchback before one of the airships veered close enough to the slope to start carving it up with its lights. Two shafts of white energy began to weave across the zigzag path with both vertical and horizontal cross-hatchings. One caught Loxal about half-way down the third switchback. Nu heard a distant shout from up on the airship’s deck as the light began to follow the Assassin.
Braaak-ak-ak! The night exploded with a stream of fire from the airship’s port sky cannon.
Nu dropped behind a small ridge of stone and looked ahead into the roving light to where Loxal should have been. The ship’s cannon opened up with a continuous spray of glowing shot that traced up and down the trail for what seemed like an hour, but could only have been about twenty seconds. Exploding impacts walked past him, then back down the trail again while he flattened himself against the meager shelter of the tiny outcropping. The lights wobbled as if trying to zero in on Loxal’s initial movement.
Nu slid forward on his belly to see if he could find his companion. The creeping ground mist both obscured his vision and protected him some from the lights.
Dawn Apocalypse Rising (The Windows of Heaven Book 1) Page 23
