“Will you be exploring more today?” Gorax asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Selena looked away from him, at the tall cliffs, layered with different colors. “As far as I can tell, we’ve looked everywhere.”
“I agree,” Gorax said seriously.
“Do you believe in it? Do you believe me, when I say that there’s a better life out there?”
He scratched at his meaty chin. “In truth, I have no reason to believe that the firewall does anything except mark the beginning of the blackened ground. I mean no disrespect.”
“Then what is it that’s buried under the desert?” Selena met his eyes.
“Danger,” Gorax said. “Our rule is to stay away from it.” He spied movement and his deep-set eyes lit up. “Ah, there she is. I have a few things I must discuss with my wife.” He turned to Selena as he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you for sharing your story. I have a feeling that you are closer to answers than you realize.”
She wanted to ask him whether he meant answers regarding the firewall or answers to the troubles she carried with her, but he was gone before she could open her mouth to speak.
Then something strange happened.
Selena.
The voice was dry and thin, the voice of an old man. Selena sat staring into the slow-burning red coals of the fire pit and her eyes unfocused. The voice had spoken inside her mind.
Father? She framed the query as a thought.
Selena. I don’t have long. My lifeline is stretched to the limit. Listen to me carefully. We are in terrible danger. You may think I don’t care about you, but I do. Please. You need to stay away.
Where are you? Selena asked. What’s happening?
Milton didn’t reply.
Selena’s eyes refocused. She was startled to see Vance and Ruth on the other side of the fire pit.
“Selena?” Ruth asked. “What’s wrong?”
Selena knew her face was pale. She stood quickly. “It’s time to go. The others are in danger.”
“How do you know?” Vance asked.
“My father. He just spoke to me.”
Ruth glanced at Vance and then back at Selena. “What did he say?”
Selena knew it wouldn’t take her long to pack. She was already thinking about the journey to the three peaks.
“He said to stay away.”
Taimin’s mouth was dry. His stomach clenched with hunger. He wondered if he could ask Kash or another skalen for some water, but he knew there were members of the clan who were looking for any excuse to kill them rather than wait for the trull and her mantorean ally. Beside Taimin, Lars tensed his muscular arms and wriggled his wrists, testing the strength of his bonds.
Taimin’s other companion was doing something else altogether.
Milton had his gaze fixed firmly on the guard by the opposite wall. Meanwhile Bron, the old skalen with the featherless scalp, stood with his hand resting on the hilt of his knife; after the previous guard’s fateful sleep, Kash had taken the cushion away. The tendons in Milton’s neck were visible, along with the veins in his forehead. He glared at the guard, while the skalen scowled back at him.
“Milton, what you’re doing isn’t helping,” Lars said.
Milton shook himself and then faced Lars. He let out an exasperated breath. “I was trying to enter his thoughts.”
“Oh,” Lars said, surprised. “Sorry.”
Milton frowned. “See that aurelium lamp in the wall, near his head?” He nodded in the direction of the clay bowl that gave off a green glow. “There are dozens of them in this place. Too much aurelium for what I’m trying to do. If he were human, it might be a different story.”
“Can you keep trying?” Taimin asked.
“What else is there?”
Lars leaned forward to meet Taimin’s eyes. “He’s right. We have to do something. We can’t just sit here and wait for the trull.” He returned his attention to Milton. “Can you contact the others?”
“They’re not coming,” Milton said. Taimin focused sharply on the mystic’s face. “I managed to reach Selena and told her to stay away.” He shrugged. “It’s easier to farcast away from here. She’s safe, by the way.”
Taimin and Lars exchanged glances.
“She’ll come,” Lars said. “You know it as well as I do.”
Taimin’s heart sank. His actions had led Lars and Milton into a dire predicament. Now he might be putting Selena in danger too.
24
The young skalen weaved as he ran. He panted and looked back over his shoulder, before stumbling into the cliff at his side. One of his tilted eyes was missing, displaying an empty, puckered socket, but his good eye was wide with terror. He jumped over a ravine to reach a clear region in the lonely mountain’s foothills. Then he put down his head and sprinted for all he was worth.
Ungar strode after him.
Ingren had spied the skalen on a well-trodden trail. He wasn’t trying to hide, indicating he was close to home and unsuspecting of danger. Ungar’s sharp eyes saw him a moment later, and the chase began. The pursuit was taking place on high ground, with a clear view of the landscape beyond the mountain, where tiny ripples in the terrain indicated the sands of a desert.
It was with reluctance that Ingren hurried after Ungar; she knew what would happen when he reached his quarry. On open terrain it was even easier for her bondmate to catch up to the fleeing skalen. Ungar wasn’t even running; he simply descended on his target with his long, ground-eating paces. The frantic young skalen looked back again while he ran, his one eye fixed on the imposing bonded warrior bearing down on him.
The skalen tripped.
His foot struck a rock and he fell forward. Flinging his hands out to brace himself, he hit the ground hard. His arms and legs scrabbled as he tried to pick himself back up. Then, sprawled on his stomach, he stopped moving. His head turned slowly. The skalen stared up to see Ungar leaning down to bring his face level with his.
“Where . . .?” Ungar asked in a rasping voice.
Over time, Ungar had picked up a few more words of the language spoken in the wasteland. But he couldn’t properly communicate until Ingren arrived and, as he grew frustrated, he reached down and gave the skalen savage yanks until he was on his back. Ungar wrapped his hand around the skalen’s thin, reptilian throat. He scowled at Ingren until she reached his side.
“He wants you to answer his questions,” Ingren said to the skalen. “Did a group of humans come this way?”
“Y . . . Yes,” the skalen said in a weak voice like the hiss of a snake.
“Where did they go?” Ungar asked Ingren.
She repeated the question.
“Into . . . the desert.”
“Which way?” Ingren asked as Ungar stared grimly into the skalen’s frightened face. Ungar revealed his teeth. The tips of his curling horns shifted every time he moved his head.
“That way!” the young skalen gasped. He tried to move his head, but clearly found it impossible with Ungar holding him fast. His one eye rotated until he was looking out at the desert.
Ungar glanced at Ingren. His expression was pleased. “The mantoreans were telling the truth. Ask him about the humans’ destination.”
The one-eyed skalen watched the exchange between the bonded with bemusement. He forced a word from his mouth. “Please . . .”
Ingren hated to hear the creatures beg when Ungar tormented them. At any rate, anything more the skalen was about to say was choked off when Ungar’s huge fingers squeezed harder.
“What was their destination?” Ingren asked the skalen.
Ungar relaxed his grip.
“They were searching for something,” the skalen wheezed. “In the desert. On the edge of the firewall. I know it doesn’t make sense.” He struggled to find breath as Ungar clutched his neck.
After translating the skalen’s reply, Ingren frowned, puzzled. She turned to Ungar. “What are they looking for?”
“It does no
t matter,” Ungar grunted. “There is no rain in this place, nothing to wash their scent away. I will find their trail.”
Without warning, Ungar straightened and at the same time lifted the skalen by his neck. With a heave of his shoulder, Ungar threw him against a sheer rock wall. The skalen flew through the air before Ingren heard a sickening crack as something in his body broke. The skalen crumpled, in moments just a corpse on the ground, with one staring eye that was now as useless as the other.
Forgetting the skalen, Ungar turned his attention to the desert. As he moved to take in the view beyond the mountain, Ingren glanced at the skalen’s body. With a sigh, she then joined her bondmate’s side.
It had been windy as they traveled to the mountain but the air was momentarily still, and the desert lay revealed like the palm of an open hand. It was a barren place of dirt and sandy dunes that stretched all the way to the horizon, where a thin red band indicated the barrier that separated the wasteland from the rest of the world.
Gazing out at the place where she would soon be traveling, Ingren’s spirits sank. Although the breeze had died down, she saw the situation would soon change. After all she had been through, now this.
In the far distance, a haze billowed over the desert. Winds were gathering force, creating a wall of sand that rose up and moved inexorably forward. Even from where Ingren was standing, a sudden gust struck her face.
“There is a sandstorm brewing,” Ingren said. “Bondmate, this is foolish. I cannot follow you without sharing my thoughts. It is my role to advise. I am advising you now, in the strongest possible terms. Do not do this.”
Ungar’s face turned to her. His long, sweeping brow ridges tilted to make his expression severe. “Show me another human. Do you see one? We have come this far. This was never supposed to be easy. A quest involves risk.”
“But how much risk is too much?”
“You must do your duty, Ingren. Have faith in me. Follow me—yes, even into danger. Banish your fears. I will do all in my power to keep you safe.”
The belt around Ingren’s gray robe couldn’t stop it from flapping in the fierce wind. She climbed the last dune she ever wanted to see, yet was dismayed to find a multitude beyond. Her pack felt heavy, weighed down by the four trophies Ungar had already taken. But she knew that in truth it was lighter, and she was simply weary. She stopped to slip her pack off her shoulders and anxiously inspected its contents.
“Bondmate, we will soon finish the food and water we brought with us,” she called.
The heat was draining even Ungar. The tall warrior walked with shoulders slumped, his long spear strapped to his back to free his hands. With every step his high leather boots sank deep into the sand. His traditional warrior’s costume was as dusty as Ingren’s robe. He didn’t look as proud as he had when they commenced the quest.
Ingren raised her voice when he didn’t reply. “Ungar, we must turn back,” she persisted.
Ungar kept walking.
Ingren shook her head but didn’t have the energy to keep arguing. She hurried to catch up to her bondmate and wished the two suns would depart the reddened sky. Ahead, the haze caused by the birth of a sandstorm was thicker than it had been the day before. Ungar climbed slope after slope. With three distant peaks on one side and a range of hills on the other, they entered the desert’s heart.
Ingren at least felt some relief when the terrain firmed up. The dunes became lower, which made for easier traveling and less grit cast by the wind into her face. She saw Ungar bending to bring his head close to the ground. He swung his neck from side to side, sniffing.
The advisor in Ingren forced her to speak again. “Bondmate, we have been wandering for far too long—”
Ungar thrust out a hand to silence her. He straightened and lifted his narrow chin to inhale the wind. His nostrils flared.
He cast her a quick glance and smiled, displaying his rows of yellow teeth. Then he started to walk at twice the speed.
Ingren frowned. Ungar lowered his head once more and gave short snorts while he tried to catch a scent. He headed one way, then another, with Ingren forced to retrace her footsteps as she became more and more frustrated.
“What is it?” she asked.
Ungar wouldn’t answer. He climbed toward a crest and vanished down the other side. Ingren sighed, panting as she made the long ascent. When she reached the top, she gazed down and saw that Ungar had stopped on the low ground between the rises. There was gravel beneath his feet as he turned and swept his nose over the area, searching in all directions.
“Humans,” he said. There was a triumphant glint in his eyes that Ingren knew well. Ungar cast around while Ingren followed the slope to join him. He sniffed at the ground and then pointed. “This way.”
25
Strong wind tugged at Selena’s long black hair as she drank a large gulp of water from her flask. She desperately wanted to splash a few drops over her head, but knew better than to waste her supplies. With a tap against Vance’s shoulder she handed over the flask.
“Here.”
“Give it to Ruth first,” Vance said.
“I just drank,” Ruth said. “You saw me do it.” She sighed in exasperation. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!”
Vance reluctantly accepted the flask. Selena returned to watching the horizon. She knew the moment of respite wouldn’t last long; they were doing everything they could to cross the desert and reach the three peaks as swiftly as possible. They stood together at the summit of one of the tallest dunes in the area, a place where they could take a short rest and view the approaching sandstorm.
“Any idea how far away it is?” Ruth asked. Her eyes were tight as she watched the billowing dust on the horizon.
“It’s hard to tell,” said Selena. The yellow clouds rose and fell, sucking in and out as they enveloped a wide portion of the desert. The sandstorm was strangely hypnotic, but also terrifying. “Vance?”
Vance took the flask away from his lips. “Looks like it’s moving pretty fast.”
“Did Milton tell you anything else?” Ruth asked Selena.
“No. He just said to stay away.”
“Whatever’s happening, it can’t be anything good,” Vance said.
He handed Selena the flask and she returned it to her pack. The group of three spent a few more moments watching the horizon. It was impossible to say how wide the sandstorm was, or how furious it would be. Already the wind blew hard against the dunes, and although the golden sun was directly overhead, its yellow disc was hazy. Selena’s eyes suddenly stung as a few specks of grit struck her face. She was forced to turn her head away.
“What do we do if it gets bad?” Vance anxiously smoothed his moustache. “Head back to Milton’s homestead?”
“We can’t turn back now,” Selena said. She set her jaw and focused on the three tall rock formations. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but their sharp shapes appeared more blurred than they were before. “No more stops. We have to hurry.”
The humans’ scent led somewhere unexpected.
Ungar lifted his head as he entered a wide gorge bounded by opposing cliffs. He no longer needed to follow the trail; it was clear where the humans’ tracks were going.
Ingren found herself following him toward a small settlement of round stone-walled huts, built in a place where a long overhang of rock provided protection from the elements. Ingren thought it might be a human settlement, but then saw dozens of bax moving about the village, unmistakable from their ridged spines and hunched postures.
“Ungar, wait,” Ingren hissed. “There are dozens of bax here. We need to form a plan.”
“Plan?” He regarded her scornfully. “My plan is to complete my quest. The trail leads this way.”
Ingren grabbed him by the arm. She forced him to a halt and stared into his fiery eyes. “What about the rules of conduct? If they know we exist, they will organize. You will ruin the quest for the next warrior to
enter the wasteland. We are supposed to stay hidden when we can.”
“I am in a hurry,” he said flatly. “The wasteland is vast, and we are in a remote location. Now, Ingren, let me go.”
Ungar shook his arm free and headed directly for the village. Ingren’s lips thinned as some of the bax stopped to stare. Ungar was half again as tall as they were. His horns marked him out as belonging to no race they were familiar with.
“Ungar!” Ingren rushed to catch up to him. “You are being too bold!”
Ungar ignored her. He headed directly for the huts, fire pits, and circles of flat rocks used as stools. Ingren had no choice but to chase after him. As she reached the edge of the village, she smelled smoke and an underlying odor of drying meat and skins.
More and more bax stopped what they were doing. When the squat creatures saw Ungar heading their way, their ugly, blemished faces shifted from initial shock to fear. Soon the nearest to Ungar began to retreat backwards. A young bax tending a fire lifted his head and his deep-set eyes shot wide open before he stumbled away. A female grabbed two younglings and bundled them into her arms. A strong-looking male raced into a hut and came out with a stout club. In the distance Ingren saw several others call to each other. A pair of bax stood uncertainly; both held long spears.
There was one lean bax who had his head down as he sat on a stump of dried cactus. Despite the guttural calls of his fellows, he studiously ignored them as he bit down on a long, curved bone to tear away strips of flesh. He was thin for a bax, with squinting eyes and a face and neck covered in crimson splotches.
Ungar passed one hut, then another. His long legs stepped over a fire pit. The watching bax clearly didn’t know what to make of him. The lean male who was eating had his back to Ungar, unheeding of the calls of his fellows and unaware of the menace approaching from behind.
Ingren came to a halt. She wrung her hands. She was no warrior, but she knew that this was not how a quest was supposed to be done.
A World of Secrets (The Firewall Trilogy) Page 18
