"I am thinking that it may perhaps be this attitude that has caused us to fail in that which matters most," AaQar said. "How like animals we can be. No matter how we dress, it is what we are."
Naatos clicked his ears back. A low growl rumbled in his throat. He despised being referred to as an animal. "Is that your clever way of saying you are too weak to fight? Has your venom dried, brother? Have your sinews turned to dust?"
AaQar arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think your petty taunts will provoke me into satisfying this animalistic rage?"
WroOth straightened his long neck. His tail lashed back and forth. "No. But perhaps mine will." He crouched, his shoulders working like a cat's.
AaQar shot him a cold glare. "WroOth, if you even think…"
WroOth fluttered his eyelids playfully. "Oh, I'm doing more than thinking of it." He lunged forward and knocked AaQar off his feet. Rolling onto his back, WroOth scooped AaQar up in his paws and flung him.
AaQar shifted in midair, transforming into a psigolath.
Naatos's eyes narrowed. Excellent. The psigolath had been one of AaQar's greatest forms. Even though he had made it only half its usual size, AaQar's psigolath form was as fearsome as any of the dreaded serpents. What made this form so devastating was its skill on both land and in water.
Falling to the ground, AaQar coiled up and spread the frills around his neck. Venom-tipped spikes burst forth. "Test my strength, little brothers," he hissed.
Naatos shifted back into the veldrok wolf and charged AaQar. He slashed at him with his jagged curved claws. Dropping down, AaQar headbutted him. Naatos cracked back onto the ground as WroOth attacked from the right.
Naatos gave a savage howl, twisting up and striking again.
The kuvaste became a violent free-for-all. He attacked WroOth and AaQar, and they alternated fighting him and one another. They all healed within moments of each attack. The rage seemed to dissipate with each blow.
WroOth leaped into the sky. Naatos followed after, digging his claws into his brother's back and dragging him down again.
Hissing, WroOth snapped Naatos's leg and flung him. Naatos crashed against the rocks. Rolling over, he jumped to his feet again. His arms and legs burned from the frequent injuries and rapid healings. Weariness dragged at his muscles, but it was good.
As Naatos turned to prepare for another attack, WroOth landed on AaQar's head and bit him on the back of the neck. Jolting upward, AaQar gave a strangled moan. He collapsed, returning to his state of rest. Clear blood ran from the wounds, soaking his hair and robe.
WroOth landed beside him, tucking his wings in as Naatos ran up.
"AaQar!" Naatos seized him by the shoulders and turned him with WroOth's help.
"Back, back." AaQar waved his hand. With a groaning laugh, he pressed his hand to his head. "Why do I even bother with thoughts of ending my own life. Kuvaste would be a most fitting end for me."
WroOth lifted AaQar's long white hair and examined the back of his neck. "Not this day, I think." He returned to a crouching position, his hands hanging over his knees. "Why was there no preceding indication of weakness? Did you hide it?"
Naatos wiped the sweat from his brow. How could WroOth even ask that? Clearly AaQar had ignored the indications. He had chosen to hide them. If AaQar had not wanted to participate in the kuvaste, he would have swam away. There had been more to this than working on the anger and tension that had built between them. A heaviness settled over Naatos's heart, this time without the anger. He sank onto a granite boulder. "Why, AaQar?"
"Why what?" AaQar held up his hands, staring at the clear blood that dripped off them like water. "I could ask the same of you, Naatos."
"You could." WroOth frowned. "But that would make little sense."
"Doesn't it?" AaQar half-smiled, but it wavered as he shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. I…I'm just so weary."
"The fight has ended," WroOth said.
"No. Of everything. My very soul aches." He turned his bleary gaze on Naatos. "The more I think about your conduct…about what you've done…the darkness threatens to take me, and after witnessing what you did, I want to let it. The more I see, the more I realize I simply cannot bear this. I have failed my wife. My child. My sisters. My nieces. My nephews. My people…my brothers."
"AaQar, please. You only fail us if you abandon us." WroOth placed his hand on AaQar's shoulder. "Stop this. Now!" He tightened his grip, his fingers digging into the pale blue fabric. "I won't let you speak of yourself this way."
Naatos watched in silence. He knew what AaQar referred to. The heaviness upon him intensified as he recalled everything that had happened, replaying the events of the last few days.
He saw his brother as he was in that moment. Not as he wanted AaQar to be, but as he was: broken hearted and weary, worn from all their trials. The contempt and rage he had felt toward his brother faded.
How could he have been so blind? What good did it do to gain the worlds and the Tue-Rahs but lose their family and have no one to pass it on to?
Slowly Naatos stood. Stepping in front of AaQar, he held out his hand. "There is only one who has truly risked failure, and it is me. Give me Amelia's letter, AaQar. I will make this right."
7
Return to New Istador
Amelia remained motionless, arms folded tight over her chest, body tense until Naatos and his brothers left. Before transforming into a night gleaner, Naatos looked at her, his eyes hard. "I will be back for you, Amelia," he said. "And when I return, you had best have finished with this trouble."
Amelia had debated some snarky response, but she wanted him to be gone more than she wanted the last words. Pressing her elmis tighter to her torso to avoid feeling his emotions, she watched as he completed his shift, spread his eight glistening wings, and sprang into the sky. AaQar became a large silver snake and slid into the waters while WroOth jumped up and transformed into the red fire dragon.
The fire crackled within the tree branches above her. Smoke rose in the sky, fragrant with the scent of pine and resin. Naatos vanished into the indigo blackness, and the rush of his wings soon faded. Amelia stared up into the sky, her eyes fixed to the point where she had last seen him. The coldness and tension slowly faded from her chest as she relaxed. "How long do I really have?" she asked.
"Three days to five weeks." Kepsalon spoke with somber authority. "Shorter is more likely than longer."
Amelia turned back to the flaming tree. Had her letter done any good? The way Naatos had looked at her when he tore the pages stung. He hadn't read all the way through. She could guess which part he had stopped on. AaQar's affirmation of her reasonableness was somewhat comforting, but she felt a little ashamed at WroOth's reaction. It was all true though.
Amelia shook out her arm before rubbing her forehead. What a confusing mess this had become. Her allies and enemies no longer seemed so clear-cut. "Did it do any good then? My letter, I mean."
"Yes."
Amelia turned toward him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Did you just give me a simple answer?" Her voice trailed off as she realized the other Machat had all but vanished. Only Kepsalon remained.
Though the firelight only revealed a small portion of the surrounding pebble-strewn ground, she saw no footprints or other evidence that the Machat had even been there. They had disappeared as silently as they had come.
Kepsalon now sat on the granite boulder with a silver seam, the whip fastened back on his belt. All but the faintest hues of blue energy had vanished. The twisting shadows covered more than half Kepsalon's face, and his eyes appeared more amber than chestnut brown. Amelia tried to read him, but his expression revealed nothing.
"Shouldn't you be angry with me?" Amelia asked.
"Why would I be angry with you, my dear?" Kepsalon tilted his head. Leaning forward, he focused on her eyes.
A twinge of guilt cut into Amelia's spirit. "I struck you in the face and attempted to negotiate with the men who killed your son." She let her arms fall to her side. "
I would be…upset."
Kepsalon chuckled. He cracked his fingers one at a time as he shook his head. "Well, there's three reasons for that. First, the obvious one: I am not you. Second, whether any of us like it or not, that man and his brothers are your family. Fulfilling your calling may not come in the manner in which you originally anticipated. I would not hold it against you if you choose a more peaceful route. Indeed, I suspect you are choosing the wiser course. Third, and perhaps most importantly, I intended to anger you."
Amelia frowned. "You wanted me to punch you in the face?"
"Not exactly. But close." Kepsalon chuckled. He picked up a fallen branch and rubbed off the bark. "Now then. I am returning to New Istador, and the choice is yours still. If you would like to come with me, you may. Otherwise, remain here and take your rest. A Machat will always be near so that you will never be alone, and so you can honor your agreement with AaQar. We will protect you regardless." He shook the coarse grey bark from his hand, then gave her a courteous nod before he started up the mountainside.
His words soothed some raw part of Amelia's soul. The tension in her shoulders and neck eased but did not leave entirely. "This isn't anything more than a stall, you know. Naatos is coming back. I won't be able to get away from him. Whether he accepts or rejects my requests, he will return. I need…" She looked up into the sky, gripping her arm again and squeezing her inner elbow. There were so many things she needed. Learning to be a mindreader, studying the Vawtrians, interpreting the prophecies. "I need as much time as I can get. Will I avoid Naatos longer if I am with the Machat?"
Kepsalon paused. He had passed beyond the edge of the firelight and only his outline was visible. "Yes. That will most likely be true. Though if you should decide to return to Naatos, I recommend you return to him of your own volition rather than letting him capture you. It will go better for you."
"Will he accept my terms?" Amelia asked.
"I don't know. Perhaps." Kepsalon began to walk again. He made no sounds as he continued up the mountainside. "It's unlikely. At least so far as you may be hoping. But in the end, you will find a way. This, I know. But no more talk of what will happen in the future. There is more to life than the Tue-Rah, Naatos, Shon, the end of the worlds as we know them, and your fate."
"Really?" Amelia shook her head, half-smiling as she followed him. "What else is there for me?"
"Dinner, perhaps. The stars." Kepsalon nodded toward the sky. "We'll be having an eclipse in thirteen months, you know?"
"Does that have anything to do with the Tue-Rah?" Amelia asked, quickening her pace.
"Not everything is about the Tue-Rah," Kepsalon laughed. "No. It will be a beautiful occurrence. Lio has done some stunning representations of what we will see." He pointed at a particularly bright star. "That is Couhli." He traced a rapid pattern in the air. "The Blind Archer. Have you heard that tale?"
"No," Amelia said.
"Then listen closely. Not that this will ever be relevant." Kepsalon slowed his pace to match hers.
Amelia enjoyed listening to him. The harmony of the night was pleasant too. Crickets and katydids whirred and sang in the trees and the brush. A few times, pikas and other small rodents scurried away, their tiny feet scraping through the loose rocks and dry grass. Amelia didn't jump at these sounds, but then came a resounding crash off in the distance.
A horrifying howl echoed through the air. To the east, fire blazed up, and energy beams arced. A deep guttural roar sounded.
Amelia’s throat became dry. "Naatos…"
As the sky lit once again, two dragons became visible. Their eyes blazed as they set against one another. "What's happening?" Amelia gasped.
"Kuvaste. A Vawtrian tradition."
"Are they…killing each other?"
Lightning and fire spread through the sky. The emerald storm drake bit into the other dragon's wing. The wounded dragon snarled and hissed, its scales rapidly changing colors from red to yellow until at last they settled to a dull blue. Somber fear gnawed within Amelia's stomach.
"Killing each other?" Kepsalon laughed. He glanced back at her, then at the spectacle in the sky and shook his head. "No, not at all. There's nothing hateful or unfriendly about kuvaste. It's about releasing tension and rage so that the agitated one can think or an understanding can be reached. An opportunity for expression and the expulsion of negative emotions. They heal so swiftly those wounds are of little consequence, and those three, well…Naatos was not in a good state of mind when he left. The kuvaste is for his benefit most likely. At least for tonight."
The two dragons continued to fight. The raw power on display chilled Amelia, particularly in light of what she had learned. She watched as they tumbled and battled before at last disappearing behind a mountain. Their roars and bellows continued, soon joined by a third voice.
"Best to keep moving," Kepsalon said. He whistled a soft but haunting tune and continued to walk.
Amelia watched a moment longer, her muscles tense. If anything could make Naatos understand, maybe it was kuvaste. If only she was strong enough to participate.
Another roar sounded. Shaking her head, Amelia turned away. It would take far more skill and strength than she had to ever kuvaste Naatos.
Amelia and Kepsalon continued on into the night as the bellows and howls of the kuvaste followed them. Soon those sounds vanished, along with the brilliance of the fire and the arcs of lightning.
The moon began to sink. Kepsalon whistled his song off and on, sometimes interjecting random bits of trivia. Amelia's thoughts though drifted back to all that had happened and random snatches of prayer.
After a while longer, they reached a large cliff that cut away to a drop of more than thirty feet. Amelia shivered in the coolness despite the upward climb. The moon had all but vanished by this point.
Kepsalon paused and caught her arm. Fabric rustled to her left. Stones scraped. Amelia turned, but Kepsalon tugged her to the right.
"This way," Kepsalon whispered. He pulled her into a cavern, and the darkness swallowed her up. Not even the vaguest of outlines greeted her, but Kepsalon kept a firm grip on her arm. More stones creaked and ground against one another. And though the darkness intensified, it slowly became warmer.
"It's good you've returned, Kepsalon," an older woman whispered.
Amelia's ears pricked up. Nialan. She remembered the Machat woman. She had been the one to help her save Matthu.
"What has happened?" Kepsalon asked. He guided Amelia farther in and toward Nialan's voice.
A heavy tension smothered Amelia as she drew closer. Something bad had happened. Her elmis prickled and pulsed, warning her. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come back
"Chialao…she and eleven others," the woman whispered.
"Let's get into the light and then discuss this," Kepsalon said. He shuffled ahead.
"We don't have time." The worry was evident in Nialan's voice. "If they know you're here now—"
The door thrust open, torchlight highlighting Kepsalon as he hefted it back the rest of the way. "Come along, Amelia," he said. "We need to get inside."
Amelia hesitated. The tension was heavier beyond that door than it was out here.
Footsteps and loud murmurs sounded, echoing down the hall. Several Libyshan survivors, clad in loose-fitting Machat clothing, rounded the corner. Several carried torches.
"There she is! That's her. I've seen her before," a man with shaggy brown hair shouted, pointing at Amelia. "She was with them in Polfradon."
Amelia paused in the doorway, her hand on the stone frame. "What is this—"
One of the women, her hair caught up in a blue kerchief, sprang forward and struck Amelia’s face. "Pinchat!" she cried. "Go back to your murderous family, you traitor!"
Amelia recoiled, holding her mouth in shock. Hot blood trickled down her cheek.
"That is enough," Kepsalon shouted.
Machat ran in from the other passage, two springing forward to seize the woman and drag her back. The angry
voices continued as the mob grew.
"Get her out of here!"
"Throw her out and lock the door."
"She'll draw them to us!"
"Banish the traitor."
"She went out to meet with the Paras! Send her away."
"What is all this?" Kepsalon bellowed. He leaped in front of Amelia and glared at the Libyshans. More and more Machat ran in, creating a living barrier between Amelia and the mob. "Is this how you treat your princess, the Third Nalenth?"
Amelia continued to hold her mouth, shocked and horrified.
The angry shouts subsided as Vorec pushed his way to the front. Though his uniform was mud-stained, blood-streaked, and tattered, he still wore it with pride. He carried with him several large pieces of parchment folded in half, their contents hidden. "We know who this woman is," he said.
Nods and murmurs of angry affirmation rose as he spoke. The hatred and rage in the Libyshans' eyes shocked Amelia, stinging her elmis like a thousand hornets.
"If you know who she is, I do not know how you can condone this conduct," Kepsalon said sternly.
"Because we understand her. The Truth Bringers decided it was time we understood precisely what this woman was. They showed us everything." Vorec held up the first of the parchments. "We will not be placing our trust in the viskaro of the Para. Particularly when she is unwilling to use her position to our advantage. This is not our princess, and we do not want her. So either she does what we say, or we will kill her now and end the threat."
8
The Paths to Death
AaQar stared at Naatos in silence, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. Naatos remained standing before him, his hand outstretched. At last, AaQar nodded and removed the torn letter from inside his pale-blue robe. "Read it all," AaQar said. "And do not destroy it. I doubt I can remember all of her requests."
"She certainly made enough of them." Naatos turned the thick paper over in his hands.
"She thinks. It's not something we should be so swift to disregard." AaQar drew in another shuddering breath, staring absently past Naatos and at the grey and blue stone of the mountain wall.
Enemy Known Page 6
