Part 22 (2/2)

”My father once told me if you can't do something smart, do something right,” Hayden grinned. He nudged the box with his toe. ”This little box won't be harming n.o.body ever again.”

”Company,” Shar snapped. She glared at Ekko and Hayden, her skin and eyes radiant with anger. ”Weren't you told to leave it be? What possessed you to such heights of idiocy?” She leaped from her perch, eyes intent on the path behind them.

”You need to destroy the Spirit Casque, Amonindris,” Ekko said defiantly. ”We brought it here for you to destroy it.”

”Do you have any idea the power it would take? I can't destroy it here!” Indris hissed. He could feel tendrils of malicious intent from the box lapping across him. ”You found it, you carry it, Ekko! Now run, you fools!”

Indris could see the fatigue on Hayden's weathered features. He hoped the old man would have it in him to move as they needed to.

Hayden and Ekko's little escapade might have doomed them.

”I think we're safe,” Shar gasped. She came to a halt, shuddered, then collapsed to her knees. Hayden, face crimson, veins protruding like ropes on his neck and forehead, dryretched in the gra.s.s. Indris was on his hands and knees, each breath a struggle. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt swollen. His blood roared in his ears, and his hearts pounded so hard he thought his body rocked in time. Had it not been for the mystic traps he had set, or the false signs laid by Ekko and Omen, the Fenlings would have had them hours ago. As it was, the Fenlings would find their spoor before long, then be on Indris and his friends' trail once more.

Ekko remained on his feet. He drew in long, deep breaths. Shar helped the Tau-se remove the javelin that pierced his arm, then threw it on the ground. It was a primitive thing, painted red and decorated with dirty claws and chisel teeth. The Tau-se looked down at the wound on his arm, expression neutral.

”Do the Fenlings use poison?” he asked.

”Disease, mostly,” Indris replied miserably. ”Do you feel unwell?”

”No more or less than for having had a javelin through my arm, no. I did think the question warranted asking, though.” The big lion-man turned his arm to different angles, as if such disease was something he could see through armor, fur, and muscle. Of them all, only Ekko and Omen showed no sign of their hours-long run.

Indris flopped onto his back. The myriad cuts and bruises on his body were reflected on those of his friends. Ekko, by far the largest target, had broken javelins protruding from his armor that quivered as he moved. He proceeded to pluck them out.

”Where are we?” Hayden wheezed. He looked around, squint eyed, red faced with fatigue.

”I'm guessing about two kilometers southwest of Fiandahariat,” Shar replied. ”Give or take. Using the streams to help mask our trail took us out of our way.”

They were anything but safe. Indris looked at the multicolored box resting at Ekko's feet, a bruise on his vision. They needed to get the Angothic Spirit Casque away as quickly as they could. There was no way they could approach the ruins of Fiandahariat with it in their possession, and Indris needed time to mask its presence. Thufan, Belamandris, and the Fenlings would be on them soon enough. Indris hoped they would be as tired as he and his friends were.

He urged the others to eat and drink a little while they could, as plans formed in his mind. To stay and fight was madness. He and his friends might win, but at what cost? An ambush? Too difficult given the number of trails that crossed the Rmarq. A decoy, then?

Indris pushed himself to his feet. He swayed, light-headed for a moment. Shar, recovered already, crouched in the gra.s.s to guard the path they had come by.

”Having fun yet?” he asked her, voice light. She smiled at him, sharp features brightening, then turned her gaze back to the trail.

”There's nowhere I'd rather be,” she murmured. ”It doesn't matter what we do, it's always an adventure.”

”I might have gotten you killed this time,” he said seriously. ”Shar, I see no clear way out of this. We've been lucky so far, but it'll run out sooner rather than later.”

”You told me once that luck will keep a person alive, so long as their wits don't desert them too soon. I trust what happens in your head.” She sat back to lean against him. There was no scent of perspiration on her, only of the gra.s.ses and trees she had run through. ”I might not always understand it, but I trust it.”

”You should've taken the Wanderer when you had the chance,” he murmured. Here, in the wide and hostile Rmarq, the thought of losing friends, of losing this friend, was more than he wanted to think about. ”You could've been on a pleasure barge in Masripur even now.”

”And miss this?” She craned her neck to look back at him, eyes firefly bright.

Shar reached up to take Indris's hand. She was about to speak further when something caught her attention. She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. Indris followed her gaze. Shapes, indistinct at first, were pounding up the path they had followed. There were flashes of brightly colored hair. Of a ruby-red coat. Fenlings. Belamandris. Shar turned to kiss Indris's cheek. ”I could kill Ekko and Hayden right now.”

”Somebody might do it for you.” Indris smiled humorlessly.

Indris was tired. He did not want to run anymore, yet he wanted to fail even less. With a set jaw, he walked to where Hayden sat, his head hung between his knees in misery. Indris s.n.a.t.c.hed up Hayden's rifle. The rifleman said nothing, though he pushed himself to his feet, where he swayed uncertainly.

”Omen?” Indris said. ”I need you to take the casque and run as quickly as you can to Amnon. Give it to Femensetri. Don't stop for anything or anybody. You understand what'll happen if you're caught?”

”They will break my wooden bones and chop off my wooden head. Who then to put me together again?” Omen lurched from where he stood to collect the box. His wooden hands clicked on its surface as he moved it to rest beneath his arm. Ekko tied it fast with strips of cloth from his ruined robe. ”My Wraithjar will fall like a jade star through the mire to s.h.i.+ne in the mud, a bright lamp for the fishes.”

”Then don't get caught,” Indris said by way of farewell. Omen bowed to his comrades in arms, then turned, sprinting northeast toward Amnon. With each step he gathered pace until he moved faster than even Ekko could manage.

Their pursuers had seen Omen's dash. The Fenlings changed direction to pursue. Belamandris and Thufan followed the rat-folk, their once-bright armor stained and dull from mud and filth.

Once the pack was in the open, Indris rapidly channeled disentropy into his hands. He scrunched the energy into irregular, translucent orbs. These he scattered on the path behind. With the ahmsah he could see the nacreous little kernels of energy where they pulsed in the long gra.s.s and brackish water. Filaments of disentropy, like the roots of a young bush, spread across the ground, anch.o.r.ed to and fed by local currents of energy. The disentropy orbs were basic, not intended to last long. All he needed to do was draw his enemies close enough to give Omen a fighting chance of making it back to Amnon.

Indris took careful aim with Hayden's storm-rifle. He squeezed the trigger. A Fenling fell sideways into a pond. The others turned in their direction. Confused, they paused while Kapik chattered orders. Indris fired again, and Kapik fell back, blood a gory fountain from her chest. Behind him he heard the dull sound of Ekko's bowstring. Another Fenling was thrown backward into the waving reeds.

Without their leader the Fenlings were in disarray. Indris sighted down the barrel. Belamandris had drawn his sword and ran light-footed toward them. Ekko fired an arrow, which Belamandris cut from the air. Thufan was beside his prince, though the Fenlings soon outpaced them, mouths open in war screams.

”What're you doing?” Hayden asked.

”Giving them pause.”

He squeezed the trigger, then gave the order to run.

Indris looked over his shoulder as he raced away. As soon as the first Fenling stepped near the disentropy orbs, they exploded. The night was shredded with terrific, silent detonations. Indris saw the Fenlings, limned in ivory lightning, shriek as their bodies jerked and spasmed in its grip. Of Belamandris and Thufan there was no sign.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

”It is through art, music, and literature we truly understand a culture. Violence and war are nothing more than the voices of childish envy.”-Emmamon-ro, painter and sculptor to the Sussain, 42nd Year of the Shadow Empire (67th Year of the Shranese Federation) Day 323 of the 495th Year of the Shranese Federation It was the first evening of the Festival of the Ancestors. The great names of Amnon had come to the Garden of Stones where it overlooked the cloudy Marble Sea. The gra.s.s, almost impossibly green, was dotted with low granite columns, each one featuring a carved-crystal lotus flower, petals open to the sky. As the sky had darkened, candles had been lit within each stone flower. The hill became a riot of flickering gold, yellow, ivory, pink, red, and blue light against the ever-changing pattern of gra.s.ses ruffled by the breeze.

Within the domed edifice of the Lotus House with its Memorial Stones, Mari surveyed those who had come to hear her father speak. She looked down at herself in her formal robes, sheer layers of burgundy on black on white silk. She was wearing slippers, for the love of the Ancestors! She snuck an envious glance at the Anlki in their polished armor and pragmatic clothes.

”Almost five hundred years have pa.s.sed since those Avn who defied an insane and heretic empress formed our beloved Federation. Sadly we were unable to save all of our brothers and sisters, for there were those who, on that unhappy day, were misled by the promises of those who would steal from them their honor and the freedom to die. Since that day of treachery, the Ancestors have looked upon those who escaped with love. Have listened to us with compa.s.sion and protected our people from our own worst instincts.”

Mari scowled over the lip of her wine bowl. Her father was in his element. Standing atop a small marble pedestal overlooking the crowd, he looked every part the statesman, mesmerizing in layers of black-and-red silk st.i.tched with fire rubies and onyx beads. She cast her glance around the room. The greater majority stared with rapt attention. However, the expressions of those from the Iron League nations and Ygran seemed to be cast from steel. The Lotus House was quiet as Corajidin continued.

”Yet we face a terrible legacy. The task before us is the most difficult to fall to an Asrahn in the five centuries of Federation. We are beset by those who would dictate our path for us. Those who would resort to force of arms to prevent our unity. These enemies watch us but do not see us. They listen to us but do not hear. They mimic us, without truly understanding the foundations of our culture and heritage. The time has come for a brave new age where the Avn can stand proudly before the world, without fear of recrimination or harm.

”The separation of state and government has sowed the seeds of prosperity, yet now we face newer challenges. Harder challenges. Challenges which cannot fall equally on the shoulders of the many. The time has come to heal the conflict in our leaders.h.i.+p and settle the burden of accountability on one person's shoulders, for it is only though national unity we will know triumph.

”We cannot cure all our ills at once. Reform takes as much time as it does the patience to see it through. We can address issues of security. Of peace of mind. Of the knowledge our people will be safe. To that end, if I am elected as your next Asrahn, I promise to secure the safety of our lands and our people. I propose the formation of the first Army of the Federation, beholden to the nation, rather to than the individual rahns who govern the prefectures. This army will be tasked with the protection of Avn interests both at home and abroad. It will stand firm against all threats, against either Shran or its allies.

”I consider it my mandate, my highest calling, to secure the right to live and the preservation of freedoms for our nation. People of Shran, give me five years of your trust, and I will give you the brightness of an unending count of years.

”May our Ancestors look upon us with kindness and charity, strengthen our purpose, and grant us the wisdom and the trust of our people, for we are fighting for all the Avn which have gone, are, and will be.”

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