“Lakhoni, what’s with the dogs?” Balon clumsily ran into view, Falon directly behind. “What are they—” The young man saw the flayed animal on the dirt and leaf-strewn ground and blanched.
“What is it?” Falon caught himself on a tree. He saw the animal and reached for Feb, who was closest to him. “Spirits, what is that?”
“Something got to it.” Lakhoni’s skin crawled. The creature—whatever it was—had been killed brutally, but Lakhoni had never seen a predator do something like this. “Maybe a forest cat?”
Falon’s eyes went wide. He looked up into the trees. “Do you think it’s still around?”
Lakhoni studied the trees and branches for a long moment, shaking his head. “I’ve seen a jaguar kill before—or at least what it left behind. They eat most of what they take down.” He pointed at the messy spread of animal parts. “This looks like whatever did it hardly ate anything. Like it was just killed for fun. Only people do that.”
Balon’s face was still pale. He looked like he might be taking ill at the awful scene. “A person could have done it. Right? We’re following Gadnar aren’t we?”
Lakhoni put his hands out. “Don’t move.” He bent forward and sent his senses out, seeking any sign of a person. Soft birdsong from a distance away mixed with the nearly constant whisper of breeze through the forest leaves. But no sign of a human. “That’s a good point, Balon. I don’t know why Gadnar would do this, but you never know.”
“Because he’s a devil from the dark pit,” Balon said. “Obviously.” At least the boy still had his ridiculous sense of humor.
Lakhoni couldn’t argue with that. What other reason could Gadnar have had for killing all those people in the trinomo to the south? How did murdering so many innocent people who meant him no harm help Gadnar accomplish whatever he was doing?
And what was Gadnar doing? Why was he going north? It could be a coincidence that they were going in the same direction, but if Lakhoni had learned anything over the last months, it was that there were no coincidences when it came to his family and Gadnar’s family. Lakhoni’s parents had been safe-guarding the ancient Relics for decades, trying to keep them from the greedy grasp of people like Molgar and Gadnar.
“What are you doing?” Falon asked Lakhoni.
“Looking for any sign of Gadnar or whatever did this.” Lakhoni let his senses guide him and picked up his trail of thought. Those questions remained. How had Gadnar survived an arrow to his chest?
And why did it seem like Lakhoni’s destiny was to fight these evil men at every turn?
His eyes lit on a small sapling that came to just above his knee. It had a few pale green leaves on its three tiny branches. The leaves all curled from dryness. This area had not seen rain in some time. But that branch there…
Lakhoni bent closer. That wasn’t a leaf that was brown from being dried out. That was blood.
Lakhoni looked around quickly. Could Gadnar still be close? Was Molgar’s brother hunting nearby? Balon and Falon stood at the edge of the bloody carcass and had put the leather straps on the dogs. They held the straining, whining dogs tightly. The flayed creature was easily ten paces away. The blood on this leaf could not have splattered this far, no matter the violence that had taken place over there. This had been carried on the body of whatever had done the killing. Could it be Gadnar?
Lakhoni crouched low and moved his fingers just above the dark earth that was strewn with leaves and twigs, big rounded rocks intermittently poking out of the dirt. Being careful not to touch anything, he searched for irregularities. If this was Gadnar, he would instinctively leave little to no trace. The man had been living as a Separated for a long time, by the sound of it, so he had much of the training in stealth and murder that any other Separated had.
The impression Lakhoni examined revealed itself as a curved line that looked out of place in the straight lines of the fallen leaves. That was a boot mark. This had been a person. Who other than Gadnar?
Lakhoni followed an imaginary line the stretched from the blood-rimmed leaf and the slight boot impression. This was the direction Gadnar was moving.
Disgusted, Lakhoni straightened. He kept his eyes on the ground and the brush at knee level. “Get the others. We’ll follow the trail as long as it goes north.” He pulled his dagger free from its sheath. If Gadnar was still close, Lakhoni was going to be ready for him. He stalked forward, seeking more signs of the wicked man.
“Uh, Lakhoni?” Balon held Gar’s lead, confusion on his face. “I thought we were making camp for the night.”
Lakhoni jerked to a halt.
Of course. That had been the plan.
The glow of the sun between the tree trunks and reflecting on the leaves was turning gold. There was perhaps thirty minutes of full daylight left. And with as many people as were in their traveling group, they would need all that time to get their campsite ready for the night and start preparing the evening meal. “Right,” Lakhoni said, sliding his dagger back into its bone and leather sheath. Then, shaking his head, he pulled the dagger back out. “You two go ahead. Take the dogs. I’ll be right there.”
Falon and Balon didn’t protest. They yanked on the dogs and got them to move, then crunched back through the forest to the clearing that Simra had spotted earlier. The brothers were so noisy they could have been drunk oxen lumbering around the trees. Lakhoni cut a quick pattern into the nearest tree to the boot print. He needed to make sure he could find it again in the morning when it was time to pick up Gadnar’s trail again.
He headed toward the clearing Simra had indicated, passing lightly over the ground as he instinctively dodged twigs and leaf piles and roots. Of course, Lakhoni thought, following Gadnar wouldn’t do any good. He was one man and could move as fast as he wanted. Lakhoni’s group was as fast as their slowest member. Which was Mastopo. If they simply followed the trail of Gadnar, if that was indeed this trail, they would never catch up to him unless they were incredibly lucky. Or unless Gadnar made a stupid mistake that slowed him down.
Lakhoni ducked under a branch and let himself slide down a short, steep ravine wall. He tested his dagger’s edge and put it away. Sharp enough to cut hair with, the way Father had always demanded. He followed the ravine around a sharp turn then found himself leaving what must have been an old river bed as it naturally opened with some rocks to the sides and on the ground. Was this an old, dried out waterfall?
Voices came from not far ahead. “We’re too slow,” he muttered. They had to leave the majority of their group with Simra’s father in his village before going after Gadnar. If they were even able to do that, considering how ridiculous the oaf-like Mibli had been months before when Lakhoni had been ill. No matter what happened, Lakhoni and the other warriors needed to go faster or Gadnar would just roam the way north, killing anybody who he cared to.
The campsite was well on its way to being fully set. Simra had been kind enough to tie Lakhoni’s sleeping sling, which Hilana called a hamuk, between a couple trees. She had slung her own nearby. If she would ever talk to him about their future, maybe they could come to an agreement that she should be putting her bed next to his. He had no particular intentions, of course, but she being as near as possible would only be good. However, she kept pushing things off, saying, “Patience! We will have time for that later.”
Why wait? Lakhoni was getting tired of having patience. He wanted to have at least part of his life be settled and the way it should be. He wasn’t sure what it was they needed to wait for. Maybe he would ask her tonight.
A cooking fire in the middle of the clearing was already burning down to coals. It had a fired clay pot suspended above it by its handles and Lina stirred what was apparently dinner.
Lakhoni filled the others in on what he’d found. Mastopo’s face lost all of its color when Lakhoni mentioned that Gadnar had almost certainly been in the area. Lakhoni assured him that the man had no reason to have stuck around. Mastopo quieted but muttered under his breath for a while after. Lina
had Jasnia take over the stew and went to her brother. She put her hands on the sides of his face and talked firmly but quietly. What she said to him, Lakhoni did not know, but Mastopo must have listened. The young man straightened and pulled himself together.
Meanwhile, the group finalized their plans over a dinner of runny but flavorful stew, stiff trail bread, and dried fruits. Cricket song had hit full throat by the time the first watch was set and people curled up either in their sleeping mats or in their hamuks. Lakhoni and Hilana took first watch, staying on their feet and walking in silent circles around the camp, passing each other regularly.
After the first hour, Lakhoni took a break and sat on a the trunk of a leaning tree. He waited for Hilana to draw close. “Hilana, you never told me the rest of the story about meeting the Ehtzen.”
The young Zhimana woman drew to a stop and shook her head. “There is nothing more to tell, chamshazen.”
“Don’t start that again,” Lakhoni said. “We don’t have cursed blood because of some mistake you think two of the First Fathers made.”
Hilana laughed. “No, I know. But it is amusing to watch you take the bait every time.”
Lakohoni wasn’t in the mood. “Very adult of you.”
“Life is short.” Hilana shrugged and recommenced her circle.
Lakhoni stayed put and waited for her to come back around. “You never told me what happened after you, Lamorun, and Ree ran into the Ehtzen on your way down the mountain.”
“We ran into the filthy tree worshippers and that was all,” Hilana said. “Why do you insist on—” she trailed off. “Your club-legged brother told you, didn’t he?”
“Keep your voice down.” Lakhoni extended a placating hand. “And yes. He told me some were wounded and that you helped treat the wounds.”
Hilana grimaced and spat into the forest. “A painful death caused by blood sickness is not an honorable death. Better to keep them alive so they can be slaughtered honorably in fair battle.”
Lakhoni bit back laughter. “You’re joking. Your people were talking about finding them asleep and murdering them in their beds.” He realized his voice had gotten louder. “That hardly sounds like a fair battle.”
Hilana pursed her lips and glared at Lakhoni. “You are chamshazen. You have no inkling of honor or fair battle.”
Lakhoni stood to begin his circuit again. “Ancestors forgive for me thinking for a moment that Hilana might have human mercy.” He walked away, shaking his head. The Zhimana woman was as strange as they came. Lamorun had told Lakhoni about their descent from Sinhael, the mountain peak where they had fought Molgar and his minions in the cavern. The same cavern where Lakhoni and Alronna had reunited with their ‘dead’ brother.
The cavern that now served as Cho’s grave. A twinge of grief and regret threaded through Lakhoni. Molgar had finally paid for his murders, but Cho, former dog-boy turned friend, had deserved better. Lakhoni cleared his suddenly tight throat. So many people deserved better than what they had received from Molgar’s treachery.
The two—or had it been three—days that Alronna and Lakhoni had hurtled down the mountain were still a blur of running, berry and seed eating, and cold mountain streams. They’d thought they had to get back to Zyronilxa to catch Molgar and Shelu. Which had been wrong, of course. Lakhoni didn’t regret leaving Lamorun and the others behind, since the timing had been perfect to meet the Azarites—no longer the Usurpers in Lakhoni’s mind.
“I grant,” Hilana said quietly, stepping in front of Lakhoni to stop his circuit, “that you have shown me that my people might live under some unfair prejudices.” She squared up with Lakhoni. “I apologize for the ill treatment you received at the Zhimana’s hands.” She put her hands out, palms facing up.
Lakhoni didn’t recognize the gesture. “Uh, thank you?”
“Forgiveness is shown by the same gesture. Open hands are a sign of no blades, or anger.”
Lakhoni had been traveling with Hilana for months and yet, his was all new to him. As far as he knew, Hilana had never apologized for anything. Her pride was like a stiff branch stuck down her spine. He brought his hands up, fingertips nearly touching hers.
Hilana nodded, seeming satisfied with Lakhoni’s gesture. Lakhoni moved to begin his circuit again, but she shifted a little to stay in front of him. “And it was your cousin, the queen, who insisted we stop and help the Ehtzen.”
Laughing quietly at the image that brought up, Lakhoni lowered his hands. “That sounds like Ree. She’s small only in body.”
“She was… forceful.”
“And maybe you saw that the Ehtzen are just like you? People and families?”
Hilana snorted. “Remember, Lakhoni. They began the conflict. Our only desire was to finally finish it once and for all.”
“Did you?”
She went quiet for a long moment, chewing on her lower lip. The fingers of her left hand stroked the dagger she wore at her waist. Lakhoni knew she also had a dagger strapped to each calf. Finally, she gave a long, nearly silent sigh and her shoulders slumped a little. “I believe that the Ehtzen moved their home completely. I hope—” she cut herself off. Her shoulders straightened. “I do not think the Zhimana will pursue them.”
That was the second time that Hilana had referred to her people as ‘the Zhimana’—as if she didn’t really feel a part of them anymore. Which he supposed she really wasn’t, since she had decided to stay with Lakhoni and his group.
To be fair, it was clear she had decided to stay with Lamorun. The two of them fought all the time, but there was far more going on than arguments in those exchanges.
“That’s good to hear,” Lakhoni said. He pointed lamely ahead. “We should get back to our watch.”
She nodded and they separated, their opposite direction circles intersecting at each end. When the moon’s light filtered weakly through the trees two fingers above the eastern horizon, Lakhoni woke Mastopo and Alronna to take their turn on watch.
He settled into his hamuk and glanced over at Simra’s sleeping form. She was wrapped in a woven blanket she had bought from a woman in Zyronilxa not long before they left the city to go north. The woman had cackled loudly when she saw Simra, and Simra had given her a hug, calling her Zabuna. The two had talked for a while and later Simra had filled Lakhoni in on the group of women she had joined in order to get into Zyronilxa.
He still had trouble comprehending how much Simra had gone through after he’d left her village. After he’d abandoned her. He reached out and adjusted her blanket so it was covering her feet better. Keeping his voice quiet, he whispered, “Never again.”
Shouts yanked Lakhoni from dreams of berries that gave him wings. He jerked awake and rolled out of his hanging bed, springing to his feet and leaving his blanket on the ground.
“Did you see that?” Mastopo’s was shrill with fear.
Alronna’s voice was just as loud, but not afraid. Confused? “I saw it, but where did it go?”
“What is it?” Lakhoni drew his blade. Bedrolls shifted and hamuks swung as people awoke.
“Was it a boar?” Alronna spun, her long sword at the ready. “Why would a boar run through the camp? And why didn’t we hear anything?”
“There!” Mastopo shrieked, pointing to something behind Lakhoni.
“A boar? That’s nothing,” Lakhoni said. He turned, bringing his arms high to scare the stupid animal away.
Despite the deep shadows under the trees, he easily saw the thing some forty paces away. It was definitely a boar. But its eyes glowed red and its side just under its shoulder gaped open as if it had been slashed by a blade of some kind. And in the wound…was nothing. But something about the animal made it visible, as if there was a glow around it. “Great Spirit,” Lakhoni whispered, his heart in his throat. Why did its eyes glow? Was it somehow infected with one of the illnesses that he’d heard could drive an animal insane?
The animal’s sides didn’t move with breath. It didn’t make any noise, didn’t move. It simply
stared at Lakhoni, its eyes red like flaming blood.
Alronna appeared at Lakhoni’s side. “That’s not a normal boar.”
“Very not normal.” Lakhoni did a quick visual sweep of the area. Nothing else. “Why doesn’t it move? What’s it doing?”
“I don’t—” Alronna cut off as the strange creature suddenly burst toward them. She shouted as she and Lakhoni leapt forward to ward it off.
It made no sound, although its legs moved, driving it right at the camp. Right at Lakhoni and Alronna.
“That’s not a normal boar!” Mastopo yelled, his voice sounding like it was flying from somewhere above.
Lamorun dove into view, his spear leading. He timed his leap perfectly and his spear slid right into the charging boar. The spear met no resistance. The animal didn’t stop, didn’t slow. It also made no sound. Lamorun grunted in surprise as he fell into an awkward tumble.
Lakhoni forced himself to ignore the icy confusion and fear and slid into a crouch, dagger angled to slash the boar’s side. Across from him, Alronna jabbed her sword at the oncoming creature. The boar suddenly dodged straight for Lakhoni. Alronna swore. Lakhoni spun out of the way but still slashed at the charging animal.
Flame red eyes filled Lakhoni’s vision. The boar had moved lightning fast and was on him. The thing lowered its head and slammed into him. Long, jagged tusks tore into Lakhoni’s side and it flattened him, trampling him heavily onto knobby roots in the forest floor. Pain erupted in his ribs and up his body. Twisting frantically, Lakhoni brought his dagger up and scored a deep hit into the boar’s side as it lowered its head to gore his stomach. The dagger sank into the tough side of the animal, but the thing didn’t seem to notice. Lakhoni kicked and contorted, trying to protect his stomach.
A steel point erupted from the boar’s side. It should have trailed gore, but it was pristine. Alronna shrieked furiously and pulled the sword back out as Lakhoni jabbed his dagger again and finally escaped the sharp, trampling hooves of the boar.
Red Prince Page 4
