At the front of the army were four separate cages. They held muted-turquoise lizards with thick-horned jaws and long pointed claws similar to a mole's. They appeared more relaxed than any of the other creatures, blinking their oblong grey eyes one at a time. All the beasts let out occasional roars and snarls, scratching behind their ears and pacing within the limited space. But worst of all were the strange massive spiders that made their way up the sheer mountain face.
Amelia vaguely remembered a picture from an old mythology book. Behemotes. Her insides tightened and quaked.
The six massive spiders were almost the size of young elephants. They had dull black hides with sagging abdomens and multi-hinged jaws. Three behemotes worked their way up in a pattern, weaving their webs as they went. But these weren't ordinary webs. They were making ladders. Each web strand was as thick as Amelia's arm. The other three appeared to be weaving nets. Already the ladders were more than three quarters of the way up the mountain face.
Down at the base, Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth were at the front of the army along with what looked like a few Machat. Anger burned within Amelia when she saw the Machat. They would have sacrificed their own people for vengeance and power.
She noted the oddness of the body language. The Truth Bringers were off by themselves, glancing and whispering, shoulders tight and hunched forward, posture closed.
The brothers paid no attention to the Truth Bringers. AaQar remained on the back of one of the black dragon horses. His shoulders were slumped as if a great weight pulled him down, his chin resting on his fist and his elbow on the steed's head. WroOth stood beside him, working the puzzle box and staring at it intently. Naatos alone appeared entirely composed, but even he was silent, his attention shifting from the behemotes to the army. A large-crated basket sat beside him. It moved every so often, but the lock on the lid kept it secure.
Amelia swallowed hard. She was supposed to have a few hours head start. The nerves in her stomach increased. At the rate these behemotes were going, they would be finished within the hour. And it was unlikely Naatos and his brothers would wait until the entire army was at the top. They'd most likely storm the doors themselves and then let the Talbokians and creatures clean up the mess. The Machat would be hidden by the time Naatos and his brothers got in, but the scents wouldn't be fully covered, which meant her plan had to work and she absolutely could not get captured until a sufficient period of time had passed.
"Elonumato, help us," she muttered.
Slipping back, Amelia looked for the easiest terrain to climb down. Right now, she needed speed and a weaving and winding trail that would take time to track. The problem was it would take even more time to create it. Her heart racing faster, Amelia picked her way down. She kept her steps light, hopping from one large rock one moment and sliding down to the next.
Once she was about fifty feet away from the entrance to New Istador, she removed one of the dull psychic stones and placed it in a crevice. Hopefully this worked.
Up here, the mountains were little more than rock with low bushes and scraggly grass. The trees and the forests were a reasonable distance farther southeast. Naatos would most likely expect her to go there, and it was the safest location.
The voices of the mercenaries down below could be heard now that the wind had stilled. Vaguely, she heard one shout, "They're almost there!" which resulted in loud whoops and cries.
Amelia paused, horrified. When she glanced back, she expected to see the horrid thick legs of the behemotes as they completed the ladder.
Turning, she surveyed the landscape. The forest was safest but also obvious. If she was going to use it, she had to make it seem less apparent. She unsheathed one of her daggers, rolled up her sleeve, and cut under her forearm. Grimacing, she wiped the blood on one of the rocks. She ran to the side then in the opposite direction, smearing more blood on the rocks. It wasn't much. But a good tracker should recognize it. She stamped in the middle of a soft patch of earth, leaving a solid footprint pointed away from the forest. Seizing one of the pieces of cloth, Amelia shredded and trapped some of the fibers on a bramble bush. She did this until she reached a small creek. There, she shred more fibers. If they followed the creek for any length of time, presuming she was using it to mask her scent, then that would take them over the edge of the mountain until it at last opened into a larger river before diverting three ways into the forest several miles down.
Now came the tricky bit. Long stretches of boulders, some larger than she was, marked the path to the forest. They looked fairly stable with large amounts of sediment and gravel and smaller rocks around them. These would have to do.
Amelia bound up her arm to prevent the blood from dripping, then she scrambled onto the closest boulder. Catching her balance, she braced herself, then jumped onto the next. Her arms flailed, and she choked back a startled cry as she slid back. Grunting, she caught herself, lurching forward to grab the stone.
It was tricky, but still possible. Amelia made her way across the boulders, only slipping down when she had no choice, unable to risk twisting her ankle.
Back and forth she went, zigzagging across the boulders, finding a way to the relative safety of the trees. The wind picked up once more, pushing against her, whistling, howling, and cooling her all at once. Thick white clouds skirted across the sky. Each shadow made her heart race faster and her nerves shriek. She kept expecting to see WroOth or Naatos flying up over that silver and pale-brown crest.
She had nearly reached the forest when a deep hissing reached her ears. Amelia crouched and whirled around.
Massive spider legs curled about the rock ledge above New Istador as the behemotes hauled up their bulky bodies.
Amelia dropped to her belly. The coarse rocks ground against her body, but she pressed herself down farther. The browns and beiges of her garb blended with the stones.
From this angle she could roughly see where the entrance to New Istador was, though she could not see the door specifically. The forest itself was only a few dozen yards away.
Was there enough time? Her instincts warned her against moving.
Amelia hesitated, sweat rolling down her back. Was it her elmis warning her? The prickling sensation was easy to ignore, but she didn't.
The behemotes took only seconds to heft themselves over the edge, and they turned and resumed weaving their web ladders with their multi-clawed forelegs. Then Amelia realized what her elmis had been warning her about. The three dragon horses and Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth were hidden by the bulk of the spiders' bodies at first. They landed on one of the broader ledges, several feet from the entrance.
Amelia bit the inside of her lip. If they didn't know what they were looking for, they wouldn't see the door. But how was there going to be enough time?
Each of the dragon horses was easily twice the size of a normal horse, with jade scales and glowing amber eyes. Smoke flared from their nostrils and mouths. Their polished black hooves clipped and snapped on the coarse rocks. Bits of stone flicked off with each step.
The wind stilled. Amelia could hear every single whoosh and clop. She pressed herself down farther, grateful that at least when the wind blew, she was downwind.
AaQar dismounted from the dragon horse and walked along the edge of the ledge. "I'm not comfortable with this. Accidents may yet happen."
Amelia frowned. What had happened to him? His skin was tacky with sweat in places and overly dry in others. The hollows of his cheek had become even deeper, and his eyelids hung heavier than usual.
"The Talbokians have been warned," Naatos said. "And they know the difference now between a Machat and a Neyeb." He dismounted next. Reaching into the saddle bag, he removed a boiled egg from the box then held it out. The horse pricked its ears forward and nickered, taking the egg as if it were a cube of sugar. Naatos wiped his hand on the black saddle blanket. "They learn quickly, all things considered."
"Yes, but given Amelia's tendency to get herself into the most dangerous situations, keeping h
er alive during battle becomes particularly difficult. It also seems unlikely she is going to be pleased with this." AaQar fed a boiled egg to his horse as well.
Amelia inched closer, pressing her hand out toward him so that her elmis were better exposed. Would her mindreading work now? What was he thinking? The gesture didn't seem to help. Perhaps she was too far away.
"You don't even know where she is at this time," AaQar said.
WroOth chuckled. He swung off his horse and dropped to the ground. Before AaQar could put his box of eggs away, WroOth snitched one. "I doubt she's standing on the other side of the door, listening to see if we're coming." His horse snuffled up the egg in a single bite as WroOth approached the wall. He rapped on the mountain with the back of his hand. "Hello, Amelia, would you be a dear and let us in?"
"That would be far more effective if we could at least find the door," AaQar said dryly. "I don't suppose that as Para of Reltux with its claim to the Machat that you ever uncovered their tricks."
"Shockingly, we never covered the art of illusions and doors." WroOth scanned the rock face. "I could almost imagine that they chose to go into the mountains precisely because they know how much I hate being underground."
Amelia's muscles ached, and the time she was losing made it all the harder to bear. She slowly turned her head. It was a fairly straight path to the forest, and there was no way that she could risk the much longer open paths of the mountain. An obvious path was better than no path at all. If she crawled on her stomach and took her time, she might be able to make it to the forest, even with those three up there. She started to move with precision, paying attention to her placement.
As the brothers continued to talk, she neared the forest, the long dark shadows welcoming her. Sweat rolled down her body. Dirt clung to what little exposed skin was left. She gritted her teeth. Keep it steady, keep it steady.
"Well, there they are. Our treacherous Machat." WroOth's voice was a little more distant and muted now. "Come and betray your people. Let the massacre begin."
"We are not traitors," a young man's voice retorted. "We are visionaries."
Amelia risked one more glance back. The Truth Bringers were on the ledge as well now, apparently having come up on the backs of one of the behemotes. Perhaps the one who was disappearing over the edge again.
"One would think, Lord Para, that you would be grateful for our aid," one of the young women said. Her voice broke from its defiant note after she addressed him, and she abruptly dropped her gaze to the cracked stone of the mountain.
"My gratitude is irrelevant to the truth," WroOth said coolly.
A prickling awareness cut over Amelia, and realization flashed through her mind as if the thought was spoken into her. They were going to kill these Machat as well; these Machat couldn't be trusted after they were willing to betray the entirety of their race.
Amelia pulled her arm closer to her chest, frowning. How had she gotten the answer to that question? Kepsalon had told her that sometimes it would be random. Neyeb tended to pick up information, far more than they were ever aware of. And this knowledge troubled her. These Machat didn't have any idea what awaited them. Amelia wasn't entirely certain whether she felt glad that their betrayal was not to go unpunished or sad that they were about to die. Both feelings were present at once.
"You have until the olevs are prepared to find and open the door. Otherwise, we take this mountain apart." Naatos broke off a chunk of an outcropping rock and cast it aside. Trails of dust flowed from his hand.
The olevs had to be the turquoise lizards. Amelia guessed they were some kind of digger, which meant they would likely get through stone quickly.
Her anxiety increasing, she resisted the urge to run, but she quickened her pace. Her arms itched, her body ached.
Grunts and groans rose from the mountain behind her. A strange bleating came from the side. Amelia glanced back again. Several Talbokians were now there as well along with another behemote. From its sides hung long web nets to which the cages with the olves had been attached.
As the head of the first olev appeared over the mountain's edge, it shook its earless head and bleated with higher-pitched displeasure.
"Easy now," one of the mercenaries shouted. "Keep the rope tight. Don't let it slip."
The Machat continued searching the wall. Amelia nodded with satisfaction and resumed her belly crawl down the rock face. If she remembered where the door was correctly, the Machat were a good yard away. Perhaps farther.
Two of the Talbokians ran to the edge of the mountain, seized the crate with the olev, and dragged it forward.
"Time's up, Machat," Naatos said. He strode over to the olev and pulled aside the web net before throwing it over the edge. He then unfastened the lock and let the creature out. The olev shook its bullet-shaped head, blinking first one eye and then the next before letting out an annoyed bleat. Naatos rubbed the top of its head, then leaned down next to its ear hole. He whispered something.
Everyone else watched the olev. Amelia glanced from the upper cliff to the forest only mere feet away. Every second counted. It was worth the chance.
Thrusting herself forward, Amelia lunged the last several feet into the shadow of the forests. She ducked behind a twisted elm and turned to watch. How fast could one olev tunnel?
The olev rattled its head one more time and then started toward the wall. It walked with his forepaws upturned so that the long claws did not touch the stone, most of its weight focused on the balls of its palms. Once it reached the rock wall, it snapped its claws down and plunged its blunt-beaked snout into the stones. The rocks cracked and ground beneath its thick-horned jaws, gravel and silt falling away.
When the second olev was brought up, Naatos followed the same procedure. By this time, the first olev had made a sizable crater in the mountain. The second joined in. This one dove its claws straight through the stone. Dust flew up. Both olevs continued to chomp and bite into the mountain as easily as if it were made of cheese.
Amelia dashed into the forest. As fast as those olevs were moving, they'd be certain to strike a passage soon. There would barely be enough time to leave one more inner false trail, and even that might have to be abandoned if she was to get far enough away before Naatos discovered the psychic stones with her challenge.
21
Hunting the Machat
Naatos watched in quiet anticipation as the olevs dug deeper and deeper. When the behemotes returned to the top with the last two olevs, he set them to work devouring the stones on either side of the other pair. Dust floated out in a thick haze that caught on the sunlight. The wind carried it away downhill, creating a thin fog that misted the close growing grass and dull lichens.
Then, all at once, the dusty rock scent changed as the scents of incense, fragrant oils, cardamom, ginger, and heated pine flowed out. Naatos stepped in front of the gaping opening, broad enough for two grown men to walk in side by side. The main passage had been found.
Stooping forward, Naatos peered inside. The deep grooves and bite marks within the stone lined every inch of the passage until it opened into the main passage. "Delorme, olevs, return," he commanded.
The stone-eating beasts strode back, murmuring and bleating in protest. As they returned to their place on the ledge, Naatos entered the passage. He had to duck to avoid scraping his head on the coarse stones. It was a short distance to the primary passage, and then it widened. The ceiling was only a little higher than the path the olevs had cut, and in some points, he had to keep his head down. They might make the pathways rather small, but their bites were precise and rarely ever led to cave-ins. Unlike the last time he and his brothers had tried to burrow into a mountain. If it were only the Machat inside that mountain, that would have been one thing. But with Amelia in there, Naatos simply couldn't risk it. He rolled his eyes, still annoyed at her. She complicated everything.
The long entrance from the mountain to the primary exit was still though torches burned on the walls. The scent of ince
nse was stronger here, and the gold light revealed the barred doors. To the left was the primary entrance out onto the mountain. To the right was the passage that led out further into New Istador, its double doors made of wood. Naatos lifted the broad beams easily and set it aside. The doors creaked open with a single push.
WroOth pulled the doors open the rest of the way and ducked his head. "Petty creatures," he muttered.
"Yes, WroOth," AaQar said dryly. "I am certain they made the ceilings extra low to spite you and not because they are short and it takes less work to craft small passages rather than large."
"Well, given that they're prophets, I'm sure they knew it would annoy me and it would not stop me from dragoning." WroOth cracked his knuckles, turned, and ran off the edge of the mountain face. He disappeared from sight as another behemote carrying a dozen Talbokians mounted the sheer rockface.
Naatos exited and stepped to the right, allowing WroOth a straight shot into the passage.
WroOth appeared moments later in a streamlined and shrunken red dragon form, more serpentine and lithe without the broad crest and massive horns. He gained height before swooping down, tucking his wings and barreling through the entrance. At the precise moment his jaws were in line with the door, he hurled a fiery blast that shot inside.
Several of the Talbokians gaped in awe. Even the Truth Bringers drew back, eyes wide. The olevs remained unimpressed, nibbling at the outer stones. Bits of gravel fell from their mouths.
A large resounding crack indicated he had broken through the wooden doors.
Not a yelp, shriek, scream, or roar followed. Not that they meant they were absent. The Machat were subtle and quiet. And, given that they were prophets, they tended to be quite difficult to catch. Even with the Truth Bringers assisting them, it was unlikely the Machat would truly be caught off guard. But as the Machat often warned their young, just because one can see the blade coming does not mean it can be avoided.
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