by Brian Murray
“Is that where the Path is?” asked Zane, hopefully.
“No, it is the way to Moranton.”
“How do you know?” asked Tanas, squinting in an effort to follow Dax’s line of sight.
“If you look over there, there is a large mountain that is slightly darker than the others. I can only assume that it must be Moranton, and for some reason I feel drawn to it.”
Rayth nodded. “Well, we have nothing better to go on.”
“If we all agree, let’s go,” said Zane, now happier that they had decided on a direction to travel. He did not tell anyone, but he had the same feeling that this was the correct way to go.
The group left the Yreg and waded through the fine sand. As they left, the wind blew dust and sand over the beast. It did not take long for the sand to totally cover the Yreg, creating a natural, unmarked grave.
***
The group marched for the rest of the day, and decided to camp just before dusk. In the distance, the large mountain seemed to be growing darker the closer they got. The men rested, but Zane sat alone. He rubbed his face and peered up at the steel grey clouds as the light continued to dim. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the blue skies and rolling green hills of the Kingdom during the sun season. He smiled to himself and pictured Aurillia in his mind. Aurillia’s image started to distort and his head started to throb. The image of his love completely disappeared in a sea of red, as the pain increased. The King of the Rhaurns pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, but the dull pain intensified. His ears started to screech, then roar. He opened his eyes to find his vision swimming and blurred.
Tanas moved to where Zane sat. “How are you faring, Zane?”
The pain in Zane’s head increased. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. Then all became calm. Zane’s fist struck Tanas, knocking the warrior to the ground.
Tanas had not expected Zane to strike him and so was unprepared for the punch, but he managed to roll with it, reducing the damage. Tanas rose quickly to his feet. Zane was already on his feet and drawing his swords.
Thade peered over the shoulder of Dax just in time to see Zane strike Tanas. “Oh my . . . ” said the former gladiator, rising in one movement to his feet.
Tanas held his quarterstaff in his hand, and had to defend himself against another furious attack by Zane, with his short swords.
“ZANE!” screamed Tanas, while he continued to defend himself. “It is I, Tanas!”
Dax, Rayth, and Thade stood for a moment in utter shock. Zane fought like a man possessed. His eyes were pure white, with no colour, and his mouth was turned down into a drooling snarl.
“Help me, I cannot keep defending myself. Please . . . ” pleaded Tanas, as he realized that the gift of sight was a hindrance to his fighting skills.
Zane roared like a wild animal attacking Tanas with both of his short swords, slashing and hacking wildly. The ferocity of the young king’s attack forced Tanas backwards. Zane cut Tanas’s forearm and pressed his attack on the disadvantaged warrior. In desperation, Tanas closed his eyes and used his other senses to focus on his attacker. It took a moment, but the disability of sight faded and his deadly prowess suddenly returned. He defended himself with ease, but his understanding of his surroundings was still awry. He lost his footing and fell on his back. Zane raised his swords high, ready to plunge them into the fallen warrior. As the blade plunged down, Dax tackled Zane in the midriff, knocking him to the ground. Zane dropped both of his swords, but managed to twist his body. He drove his elbow into the back of Dax’s neck and the older warrior released his grip.
Zane rose to his feet, growling as foamy white drool oozed from the corners of his mouth. With venom, he kicked Dax in the stomach. Rayth grabbed Zane from behind, in a full-on grip, pinning his arms back. Dax rose slowly to his feet and faced his young friend. He could see the madness in Zane’s eyes; he had heard the bestial howl. He watched as Zane furiously tried to release himself from the former axe-wielders grip.
“Dax, don’t just stand there, man, I cannot hold him for long,” snapped Rayth, grimacing under the strain. Dax took another step forward and struck Zane with a right-handed uppercut. When Rayth released his hold, the King of Rhaurien slumped to the dusty ground, unconscious.
“Damn it, man. What the hell is going on?” asked Rayth, panting. “He fought like a man possessed.”
“I think he has had his first attack of madness, just as Gan-Goran explained,” replied Dax thoughtfully.
“Well, let’s hope it does not get any worse,” said Rayth, turning and looking at Tanas, who was being helped to his feet by Thade.
“Damn Dax, I don’t want to go through that again. I could not even draw my swords. Suppose I . . . ” Tanas did not need to finish the sentence. He opened his eyes and looked at his older friend.
“Rayth, tie Zane up,” said Dax coldly.
“Tie him up?” asked the former axe-wielder, surprised.
“How else are we going to deal with him if he is like that?”
“True,” said Rayth, and reluctantly he tied up Zane, binding his wrists behind his back, and his ankles with strips of a blanket.
Thade bandaged Tanas’s arm, then he and the others rested for the evening. During the night, the men heard Zane growl and moan as he struggled against his bonds. At dawn, the men rose warily and waited for Zane to awaken.
The young king woke from his sleep, his head dull and cloudy. Zane quickly realised that his arms and legs were tied. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of kinky joke?”
Dax knelt beside Zane and gazed into his stormy-grey eyes, but did not say anything.
“Dax, what’s wrong?”
“Is that you, Zane?”
“Who else is it going to be, Dax? Now, please, untie me.”
Dax looked into the young man’s eyes for a long moment, then drew his dagger and held it in front of his face. Slowly, he sliced the blade through Zane’s bonds.
Zane rose to his feet. “What the hell is going on?” he asked again, his eyes blazing with anger.
“You attacked Tanas last night.”
Dax watched Zane’s face change from anger to shock. “I did what?”
“You attacked Tanas last night,” repeated the older warrior.
“I don’t remember,” said Zane, rubbing his raw wrists. He turned to face the others. He looked directly into Rayth’s eyes and nearly died when the man just nodded. “Oh my . . . ” muttered Zane, looking at his hands that shook uncontrollably. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Tanas walked up to Zane and stood in front of him. “It was not you, my friend. The madness took you last night.”
“I remember having a terrible headache and . . . and the next thing, waking this morning.”
“You had a headache?” asked Dax, frowning.
“Yes,” said Zane, turning to face his friend.
“If you start to get a headache again, let us know.”
Zane peered into Dax’s violet eyes and nodded. He turned to Tanas. “How are you, my friend? Did I hurt you?”
“I have a small cut on my forearm, but other than that, I am fine.”
“I cut you?”
“It was not you, Zane, so forget about it.”
“I’m truly sorry,” started Zane glumly, “for all of you, for bringing you here.”
Dax strode forward, spun Zane around, grabbed his tunic, and drew him in close. “Listen to me, boy. Never feel sorry for us. We are your damn friends and we would travel to Hell and back for you, as you would do for us. Now enough of your self-pity! Let’s get this damn trek over with. I, for one, am already fed up with this Grey Path.”
Zane smiled his crooked smile. “Dax, you really know how to cheer someone up.”
“Did you know you smile crookedly?” enquired Tanas innocently.
The others laughed at Tanas’s comment, including Dax, who hugged the warrior. Without further delay, the men pressed on towards the darker mountain in the distance.<
br />
“How are you dealing with seeing again . . . it is again right?” Thade asked Tanas.
“Yes, it is again, but I must admit I am having a hard time adjusting, my head is constantly pounding, and it only sooths when I close my eyes.”
“The light now too much having spent so long with darkness.”
Tanas nodded. “Yes, something like that.”
***
For several more days, the men trekked towards the mountain. As they got closer, the mountain deepened in tone. It now appeared dark grey compared to the surrounding bland tones. They still had not found the Path, so they used the colossal mountain as a guide. They had been attacked a few times by solitary Yregs, but had not yet been attacked by a full hunting pack. Rayth was injured in one of the attacks, receiving a wound to his head. The group had to stop their march until he regained consciousness. For a few days after that attack, their progress slowed while he recovered. Now the pace had picked up again, and everyone was happy with Rayth’s recovery.
The men spotted a large rocky outcrop ahead of them, and decided they would camp there. Tanas turned around, hearing a faint howling noise behind him. The sky behind them appeared as a swirling mass of grey. He trotted up to Dax and tapped him on the shoulder, then pointed at the new sight.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Dax squinted towards the new image, then darted a look at the rocky outcrop. They were still about half an hour away. “DAMN!” shouted the warrior. “Everyone tie yourselves together!”
“Why?” asked Zane.
“That, my friend is the biggest dust storm I have ever seen,” he said, pointing behind them. “And it is heading this way. I’m not sure if we will reach the rocks in time. So enough of the stupid questions, and move!” The group tied themselves together and raced towards the rocky outcrop.
The howling from the wind increased, like a predatory animal chasing them. The men sprinted to the outcrop but the storm moved much more quickly, the sounds getting louder. Dax, at the back of the group, started to feel sand particles sting the back of his neck. One moment he was looking at Thade’s back, and within the next heartbeat, whirling grey engulfed them. The wind roared all around the group, and grew, swallowing them. Sand grains, picked up by the wind, stung any exposed flesh. The group’s run slowed to almost a crawl as all around them, dust and sand churned. Visibility had been cut to nothing and the group moved slowly towards what they hoped was the rocky outcrop and shelter.
The group used their cloaks to protect their faces and breathed through the material while they pushed on. Thade tripped and fell. Behind him, Dax stumbled over the young warrior.
“Get up, boy, or we die!” screamed Dax.
Thade struggled to his feet and felt the blanket that joined him to the others pull, and he waded through the storm.
This was unlike any sandstorm Dax had been caught in on the Steppes; this was far worse. The air was bone dry and breathing proved more difficult by the second.
Suddenly, the blanket joining Thade to Zane in front went limp. Thade lifted the blanket and threaded it through his hands, thinking Zane had fallen. Reaching the end of the blanket he realised that Zane had not fallen—the blanket had become untied. Panic welled in the former gladiator as he waited for Dax to move up behind him.
“What’s wrong?” yelled Dax, bumping into Thade.
“The blanket has come loose.”
“Damn it!” cursed Dax. “Nothing we can do but keep walking and pray, boy.”
After several minutes, the two warriors reached the rocky outcrop and found a hollow that protected them from the brunt of the storm.
“Where are the others?” asked Thade, shouting over the storm, his voice filled with concern.
“I do not know,” said Dax, looking out of the hollow into the dense swirling dust. The storm’s howling intensified, becoming deafening. There was nothing the older warrior could do, and this gnawed at him. They had to wait.
***
The Wraith Hounds stalked their way north towards Thade’s home, taking a meandering route, constantly sniffing the air, following the faint scent of the Children of the Light. Swiftly, they reached the rolling green hills of the Kingdom. They got closer to their prey but were slowed while they indiscriminately killed any animal or human who crossed their path. Even though they fed, their hunger remained unsated—they needed blood, human blood, and only the Children of the Light’s life fluid would satisfy their murderous craving.
***
Zane could not feel Thade behind him. He tugged the blanket in front of him once to call a halt to the march. He pulled the blanket behind and his heart fell when he reached the end of it. He walked forward and reached Rayth, who was next, with Tanas leading the group.
“Rayth, we have lost Thade and Dax,” shouted Zane at the top of his voice.
Rayth cursed and cried out Dax’s name. There was no answer. He called out Thade’s name but again received no answer.
Tanas walked back down the blanket to Rayth, wondering what the problem was.
“What’s wrong?” he shouted over the howling wind.
“We’ve lost Thade and Dax.”
Now Tanas cursed. “We have to find shelter, then search for them when the storm breaks.”
“They won’t survive out here on their own,” pleaded Zane, again calling for Dax.
“Neither will we, unless we get under cover,” shouted Tanas.
Rayth cursed aloud, stringing together a list of the coarsest profanities. “Can you get us to the outcrop?” he asked Tanas.
Tanas closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. “It’s just in front of us,” he answered, pointing, then realised the others could not see his gesture. “Follow me.”
“We cannot leave them out here!” yelled Zane, his voice pitched higher with concern.
“We will find them, boy, but we have to get to cover!” yelled Rayth.
Bowing his head, Zane followed Tanas and Rayth through the storm. With luck turning their way, they soon found a cave where they collapsed, exhausted.
Rayth sat near the mouth of the cave, staring out into the storm.
Zane silently sat next to the innkeeper. “Can they survive?” asked the young king, staring into the wall of churning grey sand.
“You think a small storm like this can stop a man like Dax?” replied Rayth, with a sly grin on his face.
Zane smiled his crooked smile and shook his head. “This storm could not stop a man like Dax.”
“You remember that, boy,” said Rayth, nodding his head with authority. Deep down Rayth had his doubts, but he would not voice them to the two younger men. He had lived a long time and had never seen a storm with such ferocity. While stationed on the border with the Steppes with his company of axe-wielders he had been caught in sandstorms, but this was something altogether different—this was a hell storm. Rayth looked towards the two younger men, who sat deeper in the cave, talking quietly. They believed him. He was the father figure now and he had told them in no uncertain terms that Dax and Thade would survive, but he himself was not too sure. Rayth sighed heavily, looked back out into the dust storm, and prayed to the Divine One for the safety of the two lost friends.
***
This was the longest Admiral Rendel had stayed on shore and slept in a real bed for several years. He rose from his soft bed in the guest wing of the palace, put on a robe, and strolled out to the private gardens. The admiral sat on a bench overlooking the bay and longed to be back on his ship, the Gliding Falcon, and sail somewhere, anywhere. Reedie watched the moon cast its slivery light on the rippling water in the bay. He smiled to himself, thinking about a conversation he had had with Zane . . .
***
“Reedie, you have to stay in the palace when you retake the city,” said Zane softly.
“Stay in the palace!” stormed the admiral. “Why can I not stay on my ship?”
“You will be senior representative of the crown in the city and people need to
see you. They cannot see you if you’re on your ship.”
“What about Emyra and Zorain?”
“I trust Emyra. I have Rayth’s word that she won’t double cross me, but she is a civilian. You’re an officer of the crown.”
“And Zorain?”
“Zorain has a good heart and is the best City Watchman, but he’s not a politician. He does not have the respect you possess as my admiral. No, you must stay in the city.”
“But that’s on shore.”
Zane smiled his distinct smile. “Yes, Reedie you have to stay on shore.”
“Is that a command?”
“If it needs to be, then yes, it’s a command.”
“Well, it does not have to be an order,” snapped the older man sharply.
“Thank you, Reedie,” said Zane, smiling broadly at the older man’s irritation.
The admiral snorted a short, coarse profanity.
***
Admiral Rendel pulled his cloak tight around his small frame and stared out over the sparkling bay. He was worried that two ships still had not docked in the bay. One of the ships, the Grey Sunset, should have been one of the first ships to dock—it had all the city administrators and City Watch on board. He fretted for his men and the citizens on the ships. He sighed deeply, watching the silvery light twinkle against the waves.
“Quite relaxing,” said a woman with a musical voice from behind him.
Startled, Reedie spun around to look at the woman who wore a simple white dress, the moon’s silvery light glistening against her hair. For some reason, Reedie felt an air of calm. “Yes, it is a relaxing view, my lady.”
“But you would prefer to be on the sea, Reedie.”
“Yes, I would.” The admiral frowned. “How do you know my name?”
“I know many things, Reedie.” The woman paused. “Your king and his friends are in danger.” This news distressed the admiral and his face did not hide his shock. Before he could answer, the woman continued. “There is nothing you can do to help them at the moment. Zane is somewhere you cannot travel. However, there is something you can do to help your king and the Chosen of the Phadrine.”
