As night fell in truth, though, Raz decided it was time to call a halt to their march. For one thing, the path was dimming before them, the black silhouette of the city drawing and disappearing into the darkness of the evening. For another, as the Sun descended, the drivers had started calling their charges to attention, tasking them with loading up the day’s harvest into their wagons before driving the chained atherian onto the road. More than once Raz and Syrah had both been forced to shelter in the covered cage, sometimes braving a peek through the sailcloth as the Percian pressed the lizard-kind in a split around their group, hurrying them back toward the city as fast as their bound feet would allow. Again it had been hard, letting them pass without action. Even when he didn’t look out to witness the dejected forms of his kind being driven eastward at the end of the whips, Raz could smell their presence all around him, a musky, distinct scent that no man could replicate.
On the fortunate side, the emptying of the farmlands left them with ample shelter to safely settle in for the night.
Raz led them off the road at the first chance they got, making for a plotting of fields he was sure were already empty. He thought—if nothing more drastic had already happened—that at the very least the kuja might notice the flattening of the grasses left by the cart trundling across the plain and onto the cleared earth, ignoring the squashes and unripe tomatoes they bumped over in passing. Without speaking, the men set about making camp as best they could, hiding the ox and cart from the road behind a wide shed in which all manner of hoes and axes and tilling tools were stacked or hung. After that, Aleem set about making the evening meal over a small cooking fire Syrah conjured up for him. Despite a hearty supper—seared steaks of salted antelope meat Akelo had downed and dressed the day before, along with roasted tubers and some sort of juicy, edible root Odene and Rufari had scrounged up that very morning—no one appeared much in the mood to talk. The emptiness could be felt by all, even the newcomers. Everyone ate in silence, glancing frequently at the bare spot at Raz’s left where Akelo always took his meals, or over to the cart where the other Percian typically sat. Their absence was tangible, and the occasional attempts to start up conversation usually trailed off and died within a few minutes.
Eventually, thanking Aleem for their dinner, individuals and pairs began to break away, seeking choice spots about the field or in the surrounding grassland to sleep. After a while, Hur—the last to linger, nervously whetting the edge of his battle-axe by the still-flickering fire—gave in as well, nodding mutely to Raz and Syrah as he stood and moved off into the dark.
Neither of them spoke, even after they were left on their own around the flickering warmth of the cooking fire. Syrah leaned against him, her head—finally free of the oppressive hood and veil now that the Sun had set—resting against the bare scales of his shoulder, his arm around her as he stared into the flames. They might have spoken, perhaps, might have discussed in worried, low voices so as not to alarm the others, the concern they both felt that Akelo had not returned. Whatever they each thought, though—probably that it was premature to fret, or there was nothing to be done regardless, or they would address the problem in the morning—neither said a word, choosing to hold their tongue and appreciate the comfortable coolness of the Percian night. Here the air did not shudder and freeze as the Sun failed, countering the harsh heat of a desert day with frigid, icy air. Instead, the evenings were brisk, but pleasant, much like the more temperate border lands between the North and South. The temperature dropped enough for the warmth of the sorcery to feel good against their skin, but not so far as to bite into the body. Together, Raz and Syrah allowed themselves to appreciate the night, at least until the Priestess began to doze against him. When he noticed this, Raz laid her gently down on the ground beside the flames, folding his silk mantle under her head like a pillow, and told her he would take first watch. When she mumbled something unintelligible in return, he managed a smile, then turned away to walk out into the field.
The others had preferred, naturally, to find nooks and corners in and about the tool sheds, accepting what little cover the structures provided. As a result, Raz had the emptiness of the razed land to himself, and he took full advantage, stepping along and over the rows of vegetables until he stood in the very center of the field. Once there, Raz looked skyward, searching the night for a familiar sight.
The Arros sat a ways further north in the heavens than he’d been accustomed to initially, but Raz had adapted rapidly enough. It only took him a moment to find the stars among the dozens of constellations Garht Argoan had taught him, the trio twinkling and shining between the traces of clouds that strayed over the face of the sky. Briefly, he did nothing more than watch them, dipping back into pleasant memories.
Then, with the thought of Karesh Syl weighing on his mind, Raz began to pray.
Akelo and his kuja returned just as the first light of dawn broke over the east.
Raz had been relieved of his watch by Marsus Byrn an hour or so before midnight, but still he’d risen nearly an hour earlier than the others, as was his habit. He’d already put himself through his morning routine, and was busy strapping Ahna back onto Gale’s saddle when he made out the sound of approaching hooves. Snatching up his gladius from where he’d dropped it in the grass at his feet, he drew the blade and moved quickly around the stallion, looking westward. Almost immediately he made out the indistinct blotches of shapes approaching along the road.
Before he had time to consider warning the others, Raz relaxed, making out the familiar faces of the five Percian, and raised his sword high to get their attention in the semi-darkness.
“You had us worried,” he growled, half in annoyance, half in relief once the men, still bedecked in their soldier’s uniforms, had guided their horses off the path and onto the clear earth of the field. “I was afraid something might have happened.”
Akelo, although he had the worn look of a man who hadn't slept the night, smiled broadly as he and the others dismounted.
“We have news,” he said quickly, pulling off his spiked half-helm and leading his gelding closer. “Good news. We may have found a way in.”
Raz gaped at him.
Their reconnaissance plan had been simple. If things had gone accordingly, the kuja had approached Karesh Syl on horseback, wearing their stolen armor, and looped the wall in the formation of a patrol, gathering what information they could. Nudar, the Northerner who’d worked in the army barracks, said it wasn’t common for a five-man patrol to be mounted, but not unheard of. Given the extent to which the Tash had already gone in his attempt to deduce where and when Raz would be arriving, as a group he, Syrah, and Akelo had decided no one was like to question the presence of five more soldiers, even ahorse.
Still, it hadn't been completely without risk, so for them to have been out all night like this…
“Odene.” Raz called on one of the passing Percian. “Wake Syrah for me, if you would. Then you and the others grab some sleep while you can. We’ll have to vacate this field soon, before the workers come back.”
The man nodded at once, rejoining the other three as they led their horses back to the group to the relieved cheers of those who had stirred at their arrival.
Raz turned back to Akelo, anticipation getting the better of him. “We’ll catch her up. Tell me everything.”
The old man, it seemed, shared all-too-much in his excitement, because the words came in a rush.
“We did as you said, at first. We reached Karesh Syl before noon, I think, and spent most of the afternoon circling the wall a few times. The west and north gates are a little grander, and more secure. Probably has to do with receiving their allies in the South and Seven Cities, if I had to guess. Either way, when we arrived there wasn’t much of a line to enter or leave anywhere, but we didn’t think much of it at the time. We were busy counting how many men were at each entrance, and along the wall—Kalin memorized everything, I think. Just as we were about to leave, though, young Rufari noticed som
ething. I have a feeling we’ll be thanking the Sun he chose to join us before this journey is at an end.”
“What did he see?” Raz pressed him eagerly, sheathing his gladius before tying it off over his shoulder.
In response, Akelo grinned. “There was a discrepancy during the changing of the guard, later in the day. Like I said, we didn’t realize how few were coming and going at the time of our arrival, but as the afternoon went on there was a line a hundred men long to get into the city at any entrance, and as many trying to get out, it looked like. They close the gates, you see, when night falls. To compensate for the rush, the afternoon guard is twice what it was when we first arrived, at least two-dozen at the east and south gates, and more along the north and west.”
Raz frowned, his spirit guttering a little. “This doesn’t sound like good news…” he said tentatively.
Akelo’s eyes were bright over the darkness of fatigue. “It is. When we noticed this, we wondered if the guard would change again after evening fell, when no one is coming and going at all.”
Raz saw where the conversation was headed, and his enthusiasm returned.
“And?” he demanded excitedly.
The answer almost made his scales stand on end, and he hadn't quite managed to smother his anticipation by the time Syrah joined them, rubbing the sleep from her good eye to hear the story all over again.
CHAPTER 40
Karesh Syl was a monument of human triumph over the relative emptiness of the Percian savannah. The wall itself rivaled the grand fortifications of Cyurgi ‘Di, a perfect, gargantuan circle of smooth granite nearly a mile in diameter that towered fifty feet into the air, topped with pointed crenellations and patterned with staggered slits for archers and crossbowmen to sight through. Suspended bastions jutted from the ramparts every twenty yards, bulbous protuberances from which great, fluttering banners bearing the crossed pair of white-and-gold spears hung. At any given time Raz could just make out a half-dozen men patrolling every hundred yards of battlement, each bearing the emblazoned shield with the same adornment. He spent a while counting and calculating their patterns, trusting his eyes could see them more clearly than the indistinct forms against the grasses he and Akelo likely were to the soldiers at this distance.
And there, beyond the wall, stood the city itself.
Karesh Syl rose in concentric circles from the limits of its expanse, each ring higher and grander than the last. At its edges Raz could make out the plainest and least obtrusive buildings, revealing themselves in a staggered pattern over the wall, some high enough to peek above the crenellations, others apparently not. After several layers of these humbler structures, however, the city grew rapidly more resplendent, lumbering constructions of brick and wood and stone transitioning into more and more delicate towers of white marble accented—shining in lines and sheets in the light of the Sun—in bronze, silver, and gold trimmings. In the center of the metropolis, at the very peak of the city, Raz couldn't help but gape at the single wondrous structure that rose above all others, topping Karesh Syl like a crown.
It wasn’t hard to guess what the building was.
The Tash’s palace was an edifice of unparalleled grandeur. Like the city that surrounded it, it had been built in concentric rings, though these appeared symmetrical to a fault. The outermost layer was comprised of several angular buildings, while the first inner layer was made of crescent, bending shapes that folded inward over themselves like petals of a flower about to bloom. At the very center, soaring above the rest of the building, the city, and indeed the world itself, a pointed structure jutted toward the heavens, supported by spindly arches that seemed impossibly narrow to Raz.
For the first time, he allowed himself some grudging respect for the people of the city, as well as the miracles they had accomplished even on the backs of others.
“They say it’s a tribute to the Twins.”
Raz blinked and looked over his shoulder. Akelo was crouched just behind him, staring—like Raz—up at the crowning glory of Karesh Syl.
“The Tash’s palace,” the man said unnecessarily. “They say that, if seen from the sky, one would recognize the gods in its form. The two center rings—” he pointed to the top of the building, at the jutting point and the layer of petal-like extensions “—form the circle of the Moon. The outermost towers—” he pointed to the pattern of angular shapes along its edge “—are Her Stars. When taken all together, though, they form the body and waves of the Sun.”
Raz couldn’t help it. He turned and gawked once more at the splendor of the palace.
They were as close as they dared get to the city, crouched in the high grasses of the plains that surrounded the circular walls in all directions. The farmlands had given way to nature once more as they continued their approach of the metropolis, which Nudar explained was so that the Tash had the option of burning the grasslands if anyone was fool enough to lay siege to the gates. They’d led the caravan to the edge of what Raz felt was the observable distance from the walls, pulling the cart off the side of the road before putting their plan in motion. Syrah had taken to Nymara’s saddle while Zehir, Kalin, and Rufari all claimed their own horses. Raz had lent Gale to Odene, telling the animal to behave for the man. He would be sad when it came time to turn their other mounts loose, but he’d be damned if he was going to leave the stallion behind after all they’d been through.
After the five of them departed, Raz had had Hur take his axe to the spokes of one of the cart wheels, rendering it useless but giving them all a good excuse to linger along the edge of the road.
Then, leaving Cyper in charge once more, he and Akelo had taken to the plains.
For an hour now, they’d waited impatiently, Raz taking advantage of his sharp eyes to alternately study the magnificence of the city and check on Syrah’s progress in the line of the east gate. As Akelo had said, the morning rush was staggering, well over a hundred coming and going at any given time. It had been a gamble, with travelers passing the broken cart as they headed for the city, but the crowd would hopefully play in their favor. As he watched, Syrah—a veiled bride in white in the center of an escort of four mounted soldiers—neared the entrance.
For obvious reasons, Raz had initially rejected the plan Syrah and Akelo had presented him, even going so far as to open the problem up to the rest of the men for suggestions. When no one was able to come up with anything better, though, Raz had been forced to concede, making himself feel better by spending the morning brooding over the Priestess and the kuja-turned-soldiers who would be accompanying her.
Syrah had laughed and smiled through all of it, calling his concerns “endearing,” which hadn't done much to improve his nerves.
And now, Raz was waiting, about as on edge as he had ever been in his life, knowing that if something went wrong there was absolutely nothing he, Akelo, or even the Sun above could do about it.
“She’s getting nearer,” he said over his shoulder. “Not long now.”
Akelo, still crouched, moved up until he was right beside him. He stood ever so slightly, just enough to peer toward the gate, but frowned in annoyance.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said with a shrug, dropping down again. “I can’t even see Gale from here.”
Raz nodded, but said nothing more. Syrah and the others had just pressed their horses forward again. They were no more than third or fourth in line for entry to the city.
Come on, Raz thought privately, absently clenching and unclenching his hands around Ahna's haft across his knees. Come on…
Eventually, they made it to the gate. From this distance even Raz couldn’t make out more than general gestures, but his anxiety betrayed him rapidly. Did that guard seem too suspicious? Was there a reason the watchers on the wall seemed to have paused? Why were they still stopped? Wasn’t it too long to be questioned?
Raz could quite literally feel the fabric of his restraint degrading, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to the sensa
tion of losing self-control so easily, so rapidly. He didn’t have to ask himself why it was happening, of course. He knew why it was happening. It was the first time he and Syrah had been truly apart for some four months, now. Even before that, they hadn't spent much time away from one another over the course of the freeze, keeping each other frequent company in the Citadel library, practice chambers, and dining hall as the wind and storms raged outside. Abruptly, Raz become aware of a throbbing absence in his chest, like a little piece of his spirit was missing.
No. He didn’t like this one bit.
And then, in a blink, Raz saw the sentries wave Syrah and the disguised kuja by. Before he could think to catch one last careful glimpse of her, the Priestess was gone, allowed through the eastern gate of Karesh Syl.
All at once, as she vanished from his sight, Raz wanted her back by his side more fervently than he had ever thought possible.
“She’s in,” he said in a rush, turning and hurrying around Akelo, bent double as he moved. “Time to get ready. It’ll be our turn, soon.”
As Iron Falls (The Wings of War Book 4) Page 44
