Chase poked a finger through the hole in his bloodstained grey vest and shirt, to the unblemished skin on his stomach. ‘I remember. It was like being punched in the stomach.’
‘They ambushed us. The old woman thinks we’ve been chased all the way from Port of Joy.’
‘Passion!’ Chase gasped. ‘Jon!’
‘They’re safe with the villagers,’ Wahim said.
‘Not if the soldiers followed us!’ Chase cried. ‘They’d have gone to the village.’
Swift took hold of his arm to calm him. ‘The villagers are smart. They wouldn’t have told the soldiers anything, except perhaps that we moved on.’
‘But what if they didn’t?’ he argued.
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Wahim said quietly.
‘But my sister?’
‘I’m sure she’s all right,’ Swift told him, looking directly into his blue eyes. ‘You’re here. Passion’s there. She’ll make sure Jon and she are safe. There’s nothing else you can do. We made a choice. We came.’
Chase pulled free of Swift’s grip and ruffled his mousey hair in agitation as he walked in circles around the small clearing. ‘It’s just that I promised myself I’d always protect my sister and the little fellow. If I’ve left them and they’ve been caught, then it’s my fault for leaving.’
‘If you go back now, you’ll be days too late to save Passion,’ Swift told him. ‘And the Kerwyn are chasing us, so you’d get caught and be killed and then you’d be no use to anyone. Think about it.’ The rat scurried past her feet into the bushes. ‘Besides, I have as many reasons as you to go back.’
‘We never got to warn Runner,’ Chase muttered.
‘I know,’ said Swift. ‘But he’ll be all right. He’s street-wise and no one knows he’s my son. I just wish I could have seen Jewel, to tell her that I’m safe.’
‘I should have stayed with Passion,’ Chase declared.
‘Your sister and nephew wouldn’t be safe no matter what you did by going back,’ said Meg as she approached the trio. ‘The Kerwyn aren’t the real danger.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Chase asked.
‘She means the Seers,’ said Swift. ‘They are trying to release the Demon Horsemen like you told us. If they succeed, we all die.’
Chase looked at Swift in disbelief. ‘I thought you didn’t believe all that.’
Swift shrugged. ‘Maybe I don’t, but if what she told me this morning while you were still asleep is true then maybe I do.’
Wahim raised an eyebrow to show that he understood as little as Chase did. ‘I don’t get it,’ Chase said to Swift.
Swift looked at Meg. ‘Ever heard of Lady Amber?’
‘We had that story before we came into the valley,’ Chase reminded her. ‘So what?’
Swift nodded towards Meg. ‘Well, apparently we’re travelling with her.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
They heard the thundermakers booming in the distance as they had the first day in the valley. For Chase, Swift and Wahim, the sound confirmed that they were being hunted and had to keep moving east through the foreign land to escape, but for Meg the sound meant something much more sinister. The Seers will learn I’m alive, she reasoned grimly, and it will all start again. She also saw how the others stared at her now that they knew who she was—a look of disbelief and uncertainty, the expression worn by sceptics who could no longer trust their personal world views nor accept the new view because it came with an incomprehensible mix of impending doom and improbability.
They pushed through the lush Shesskar-sharel forest along the foot of the valley, deliberately avoiding contact with the local people by skirting villages, keeping off worn tracks and sending Whisper scouting ahead, the rat rushing back to warn Meg whenever a meeting with Shesskar warriors was imminent. Twice that morning, as they headed north and north-east, slowly climbing the eastern slope, they were almost surprised by Shesskar messengers, and later in the day they had to hide from five parties of armed warriors hurrying west towards the river. ‘The Shesskar will keep the Kerwyn busy,’ Swift noted.
‘A pity,’ Meg murmured. ‘They’re using bows against thundermakers.’
‘It is Shesskar land,’ Wahim reminded her. ‘They’ll make the Kerwyn pay a high price for their intrusion.’
By midafternoon, they had climbed a good distance above the valley and the sound of the thundermakers had become sporadic. Rain clouds crowded the mountain peaks and the first spots kissed their skin as they passed through gaps in the forest canopy. Aware of her increasing hunger, Meg called the party to a halt by a narrow, fast-flowing creek. ‘I’ll hunt for food,’ she said. ‘Gather berries, fruits, seeds and fungi, but don’t eat anything unless you’re absolutely sure it’s safe.’ She turned to Wahim and asked, ‘How well do you know what’s good to eat in the forest?’
‘I remember some things,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I wasn’t a hunter. Neither was my father.’
Meg smiled. ‘Help however you can. Whisper and I will find something to cook. I’ll meet you back here. Stay alert,’ she warned.
Alone in the forest, the birdsong seemed amplified as she searched for provender. She stumbled upon a gully smothered with blackberry bushes and joyfully filled a small pouch in her bag, ignoring the scratching thorns. Mushrooms, pale white with flesh-coloured flutes, were growing in sun-kissed circles like the fairy rings she remembered from her mother’s stories, so she eagerly brushed aside the rich earth and gathered them. She spied more yellow fruit on a broad-leaved bush in a glade and picked a sample, studying it in an attempt to recall what she’d found to eat when they were escaping from Shesskar-sharel so many years ago.
And for no apparent reason, at that moment a memory of A Ahmud Ki returned. She remembered stumbling upon him in a glade similar to the one in which she now stood, trying to conjure his magic on a pile of rocks, becoming infuriated and desperate when he realised that he’d lost the power he once might have had. Why am I thinking of him? she wondered. ‘I pushed you from my heart a long time ago,’ she murmured to the air. ‘I looked for you but you weren’t there any more.’ I can’t love a dream, she conceded.
Pressure on her leg drew her eyes down to Whisper. Hurry, the rat urged. Bad.
What? Meg projected to the rat and received an image of a man with a thundermaker. The Kerwyn, she thought. Where?
Follow, Whisper ordered and scampered into the foliage.
Two hundred paces on, kneeling behind a huge log with Whisper, she peered through a screen of saplings at three young men in red uniforms who were squatting around the prone body of a Shesskar warrior. Blood covered his right shoulder and arm, and she assumed the warrior was dead, but when his head moved she realised that he was a prisoner. Leave, she told the rat. Warn others. As she glanced back for a last look, the undergrowth to the right of the soldiers parted and a solitary figure with cropped red hair leaped out, stabbing the nearest man in the back. In a brutal blur of ruthless motion, Swift killed all three men before they could react or cry out, and then she bent over the Shesskar warrior.
‘Swift!’ Meg whispered harshly, rising warily from cover. Swift turned, knife ready to strike, blood smeared across her face, but upon seeing Meg she lowered her weapon and waited for the old woman to join her. She was suddenly thrown off-balance as the Shesskar warrior kicked her legs from under her and sprang to his feet. ‘Stop!’ Meg yelled in Shesskar. ‘Friends!’ The warrior wheeled and glared at her with dark, furious eyes. ‘I am Meg Kushel, friend of Sherunda, ahtim of Ashante-Jatia,’ she said, approaching with her arms extended and her palms upward. ‘We can help.’
‘Eshan needs no help from white parasites!’ the warrior snarled, shifting and taking up a defensive stance as Swift rose, her knife raised.
‘Put the knife away!’ Meg ordered.
Swift glanced at her. ‘Not until I know what this bastard is doing,’ she replied angrily.
‘This is his land,’ Meg informed her. ‘This is the ahtim from whom we�
�re meant to ask permission to pass through.’ Swift hesitated, but Meg’s silent steady stare made her lower her knife, though she kept a firm, wary grip. ‘I’ve heard of you,’ Meg said to Eshan, who was eyeing Swift. ‘Sherunda told me to find you when we crossed the river.’
‘Sherunda is dead,’ Eshan replied bitterly. ‘Your friends cut him down with their thunder-and-fire spears.’
‘They’re not our friends,’ Meg replied. ‘They want to kill us.’
‘Then face your fate,’ Eshan ordered, as he swayed unsteadily. ‘You bring death among the Shesskar when this is not our matter.’
‘We didn’t mean to bring death here,’ Meg told him. ‘We only meant to pass through your land to Ashua, nothing more.’
‘So I see,’ he said, casting his eyes over the dead soldiers. He straightened as if he was determined to show his strength to Meg, but then he sank slowly to his knees and keeled over.
Meg came forward and touched his neck. ‘He’s passed out,’ she told Swift. ‘Help me shift him into the bushes. Then we have to hide the bodies. There may be more Kerwyn closer than we thought.’
Eshan accepted the water and drank, and when he was finished he explored his shoulder and chest again before gazing critically at Meg. ‘Only a sorceress could do this.’
‘I thought Shesskar didn’t believe in magic,’ she challenged.
‘We believe in what we see to be true,’ he replied.
‘I am blessed with an ability to heal,’ she explained.
‘No one can heal like this,’ he argued. ‘There is no sign of the wounds, no scars.’
‘Believe what you see,’ she told him.
‘I owe you my life.’
She smiled as she handed him a portion of cooked meat from the small fire that Chase tended. ‘You weren’t dying so you do not owe me your life, but I do have a favour to ask, if you will grant it.’
‘You want to cross my people’s land,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘I will arrange it,’ he agreed. ‘I would take you personally, but the men who hunt you are still searching and I must ensure that they are stopped. I will send my brother, Maktir. He knows the best path through the Sky Mountains.’
Maktir, tall and wiry like his brother, was a younger warrior and Meg sensed that, while he was dutifully honouring his brother’s commitment to lead the strangers out of Shesskar-sharel, he was quietly angry at not being allowed to hunt the foreigners in the red jackets who carried the thunder-and-fire spears. Maktir moved quickly along the winding paths up the mountain, almost leaving the four companions behind in his haste to reach the entry to the pass, and he was silent, unwilling to be pressed into any form of conversation even when Meg tried to coax him.
By dusk, they reached the entrance to a broad shallow pass that was full of vegetation and Maktir spoke for the first time since starting the trek. He stood before Wahim, dismissing the rest of the party by turning his back to them, and said, ‘This is called the Passage to the Old Ones. You will find plenty to eat and drink and no one will stop you passing through. There is a village a short walk in and you might reach it before the moon rises if you walk quickly. The ahtim there is Nashuta. He is a very old and wise man and you must treat him with respect because he has seen more of this world than any Shesskar.’ Without ceremony, Maktir turned and walked back into the forest.
‘Where’s he going?’ Chase asked.
‘End of the tour,’ Swift remarked.
While Wahim explained Maktir’s message to Swift and Chase, Meg looked for Whisper and the rat emerged from the undergrowth after a few moments, chewing a large insect. She squatted at Meg’s feet like an obedient pet as she crunched through her meal. ‘We’d best eat as well,’ Swift remarked, eyeing the rat.
‘No,’ said Meg. ‘We’ll push on to the village. The more distance between our enemies and us the better.’
‘I’m exhausted,’ said Chase.
‘You can sleep when we reach the village,’ Meg told him, and she headed into the pass, Whisper scampering in her wake.
‘I’m not so sure this was a good idea, to come with her,’ Chase muttered wearily.
‘There’s no turning back now,’ said Swift, and she waited for Wahim to join them before they trailed after the mysterious old woman who never seemed to tire.
The last Shesskar village in the mountain pass allowed them to rest overnight and supplied them with fresh provisions. The ahtim, Nashuta, a wizened little man, with fewer strands of white hair across his pate than fingers on his hands, gave them advice for travelling the Ashuak countryside before they departed. ‘Once it was a great empire, long ago, when my people also were mighty warriors. They fought the Ashuak armies. Great Shemzuka the dragon-eater was my ancestor,’ he told them proudly, and he listed Shemzuka’s lineage to demonstrate his status in the Shesskar world as Shemzuka’s descendant. ‘The Ashuak Empire is no more. Where there were great cities and armies, now there are people like us, simple people who keep their herds and live in small communities. Some will speak Shesskar. They are the traders. You will have to learn the Ashuak tongue with all its harsh sounds like the snarl of a wildcat and the hiss of a dragon. It is not an easy language to learn and it is not easy on the ear, but the Ashuak are proud of their tongue and you must respect that. Find the traders who can speak Shesskar and they will teach you what is right to say in Ashuak.’ He told them how to journey to the old ruins of the capital. ‘Beyond the highest of the Moon Lakes, the most northerly one, you will find a river coming from the east. The Ashuak call it Khvech Vaath, the Dragon River. That is the river to follow. I’ve walked it in my youth. After eight or nine days, you will come to a lake called the Dragon’s Eye and beyond that, about another day’s journey, you will find what you are seeking. It is a desolate place.’
When Nashuta finished his storytelling and sharing of wisdom, the morning was already old and Meg was keen to leave. She warned Nashuta that they were being followed, fearing that the Kerwyn soldiers might track them into the pass. ‘These men with spears of thunder- and-fire, I’ve heard of them,’ Nashuta told her. ‘They will not trouble us. Men like these live beyond Shesskar-sharel. You have not been through here. Nashuta will tell them that and they will listen to me. Go. You have never been here.’
The eastern vista as they started to descend the slopes of the Sky Mountains was spectacular. At the foot of the mountains, a verdant forest ran to the shores of three large lakes, linked by canals, and the water glittered bright blue, like mirrors of the sky. Beyond the lakes, the land settled into a gently rolling plain, punctuated once towards the north-east by a cluster of peaks before the plain continued sweeping east, north and south to rise again into mountain ranges. Dotted across the view were dark patches of human settlement from which thin trickles of smoke rose. ‘It’s a huge land,’ Chase remarked as he surveyed the Ashuak countryside.
‘Now you see why it became an empire,’ Meg told him. ‘Protected by mountains, rich land with forests and rivers and plains—what more could the Ashuak have wanted?’
‘So why did it collapse?’
‘Greed,’ said Meg.
‘But they would have been wealthy enough, surely?’ Chase argued.
‘Not greed for money,’ Meg corrected. ‘Greed for power. Selfish power. It’s what everyone wants—the power to do whatever they like.’
‘I don’t want power,’ said Swift. ‘Let the greedy keep it.’
Meg smiled at the assassin. ‘That would be a good thing if it meant the greedy ones would leave us alone. But that’s the whole problem. They won’t leave the rest of us alone. To have real power means having power over everything—even power over you and me.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Chase complained. ‘Why would anyone want that?’
‘Because the greedy believe it can be done,’ said Wahim.
Meg turned to the Shesskar, surprised by his contribution when he normally just listened to their conversations. ‘That is the real problem,�
� she said, nodding to him.
‘Let’s go,’ urged Swift, bored with the talk, and she began the descent, the others following, each locked in their personal thoughts.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
His Eminence, Seer Scripture, did not approve of his colleagues’ idea, but he had little choice. Seated in his chair, wrapped in his blue robes, his long white hair loose about his shoulders, he scrutinised the three Ranu ambassadors opposite to him with dark inquiring eyes, wondering what political machinations they were capable of orchestrating and to what degree they posed a threat to the Jarudhan priesthood’s plans. The three men, wearing traditional Ranu white robes with black waist sashes, their hair and beards short and immaculately groomed, olive skin exposed only on their faces, hands and necks, had a presence that Scripture found offensive. He knew they did not believe in Jarudha or any god of consequence, and so they were condemned to die when the Demon Horsemen cleansed the land, but he saw in them an expedience that would serve Jarudha’s purpose and for only that reason had he agreed to be present at the clandestine meeting.
Seer Word cleared his throat and continued the discussion in the Kerwyn tongue. ‘Formalities aside, we are impressed by your—invention,’ he said. ‘How do you make metal ships float?’
The middle Ranu ambassador, a neatly bearded, hawk-nosed individual who introduced himself as Kal-Ahmud Habar, leaned forward and replied, ‘It’s a principle our inventors call displacement. The weight and shape of the ships displace the water and the ships sit in the trough created by the displacement.’
Word raised an eyebrow and looked at Seer Creator, only to discover to his chagrin that Creator was nodding wisely. To Word, the explanation made no sense at all. ‘Impressive,’ he repeated, feigning understanding. ‘I’m certain that we have much in common.’
‘We do,’ agreed Habar, ‘which is why we accepted your invitation to this meeting without your new king’s awareness. It seems we have mutual interests regarding the future of your nation. Perhaps we can put aside pleasantries and get to the point. We are expected to return shortly to our vessels.’
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