Kalenek

Wymer and his men opted to go their own way, so Kal led Grayson, Onika, and Rustian out of the city, with Jhorn atop the female camel. Horses would speed their journey back to Everton, but the only horses Kal had seen still living in Kaptar were carrying yeetta guards, who didn’t look willing to share.

They passed out of the city, and Kal scanned the horizon. “Is there higher ground nearby?” He didn’t want to camp in the valley in case another flood came in the night.

“There are hills to the southwest,” Jhorn said. “About six leagues.”

So Kal veered southwest. They traveled all day under the scalding sun, digging up desert ground cones when they found them and sucking on the roots. They gathered bits of wood—mostly tumbleweeds of sticky snare and the occasional cat’s claw branch. It was nearly sunset by the time they reached the foothills.

Grayson, Onika, and Rustian had fallen behind, so Kal halted the camel. As they waited, Jhorn shared about his time in the war. He had fought in the Scablands Invasion, just south of Raine. It had been one of the bloodiest battles in the Centenary War. Jhorn told the story in detail, sharing how he fell in battle after a yeetta shard club severed his right leg and half his left.

“How about you?” he asked Kal. “Where were you stationed?”

Kal merely shook his head. Hearing Jhorn’s nightmare had been bad enough. He didn’t want to relive his own.

“Talking about it helps,” Jhorn said. “You wouldn’t think so, but it does.”

“I’ve never seen skin like Onika’s,” Kal said, deliberately changing the subject. “Are there more like her in Magonia?”

Jhorn watched Kal for a long moment. “Never seen any,” he said, finally. “Five years back I found the cat scratching at my door. It wouldn’t come in. Wouldn’t eat. Kept scratching and mewing until I followed it to a river hole in a nearby stepwell. There sat Onika, thirteen years old, blind and spouting prophecies. You have children, Sir Kalenek?”

Kal hated that question. He should say yes and be done with it. Instead he said, “Of a kind.”

Jhorn looked down from the camel. “What kind of children, then?”

Now he had to explain. “When I married, my wife had two younger sisters she cared for who became part of our household. When she died, they became my wards.”

“That’s good of you,” Jhorn said.

It had been. Until he had lost their fortune to Captain Alpress’s blackmail. “They are good girls.” Which made Kal wonder if Mielle had kept away from Sâr Trevn. Somehow he doubted it.

The others had nearly caught up. In the distance beyond them, Kal caught sight of movement. He withdrew his grow lens and peered through. “Someone follows us. Looks like the young man who shared your pit.” Kal handed the lens up to Jhorn.

Jhorn took a look and sighed. “Burk is a thief and a bully. If he reaches us, we will need to take care.”

They climbed the hill to the summit. They had no tents, but Kal built a fire from the wood scraps, and everyone gathered around for warmth. Everyone but Kal, who continued to watch the young thief’s approach.

Jhorn borrowed Kal’s knife and began to whittle the fat end of a cat’s claw branch. Grayson teased Rustian with a bit of rope. Onika stared into the flames. Could she see the brightness? Her face was pink, having been burned by walking all day under the sun. Tomorrow Kal would give her his head scarf to protect her skin.

“The one comes who will seek to end my calling,” she said suddenly, her eyes shifting. “He will not deter me for long.”

It had been days since Kal had heard Onika prophesy. The power of her voice squeezed his heart. He followed her gaze to the approaching boy, who was but fifty paces out and moving closer.

“Should I send him away, Onika?” Kal asked. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

“Trials come to us all, Kalenek Veroth, as you well know.” She stood and crept away from the campfire. Three steps and she stumbled on a clump of sagebrush.

Grayson popped up and took her arm. “I’ll help you to your bedroll, Onika.”

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Kal’s attention to the newcomer.

“Jhorn! I hoped I’d find you,” the boy said in Kinsman as he stopped before the fire. He was gaunt and greasy with shrewd eyes. His hair was dyed rusty orange and twisted into short locks like a rat’s tail cactus. He looked at Kal, up and down, as if gauging an opponent. “You were at the prison.”

Jhorn dropped his whittling to his lap and regarded the young man. “Burk, this is Sir Kalenek Veroth. We have him to thank for our freedom.”

The boy bowed low, his arm sweeping across bony hips. “I thank you, noble knighten. If not for you, we might have died in that pit.”

“We want no trouble.” Kal set his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What do you want?”

Burk lifted both hands, his expression all eyes. “Only to travel with you. I can catch wattlelop and squirrels with my sling. Plus I trained for a time with the Rurekan army, so if you give me a sword, I—”

“Rurekau your home?” Kal asked.

“I was born there, but I don’t call anyplace home.”

Kal didn’t want the thief here. He was a fugitive, Onika was wary of him, and Rurekans tended to think they were better than everyone else. But he couldn’t very well turn him away.

Kal stepped close, chest to nose, and glared down. “Cause trouble and you deal with me. We have no extra bedroll, so you’ll have to make do with dirt.”

“Making do is my specialty,” Burk said, stepping around Kal to crouch by the fire.

Grayson returned and glared across the flames at the thief, but Burk either didn’t see the boy or pretended not to.

Continuing northwest the next day, they met several travelers who claimed Hebron and the Cross Canyon Bridges had fallen in an earthquake. The news silenced all but Grayson.

“Think Novan made it?” he asked.

“Should have,” Kal said, uneasy that Onika’s prophecy continued to become reality. Novan was smart. If the bridges were gone, he would have gone south. “We head for the Ebro Tip.”

They camped that night in an empty cistern. By now Jhorn had carved two canes from cat’s claw branches and used them to vault himself around, sticks and stumps acting like horse hooves in a slow-motion canter. His speed and balance were amazing.

“How do you do that?” Kal asked.

“Years of practice,” Jhorn said, inspecting the canes. “These aren’t as comfortable as my old ones. I’ll likely get some blisters.”

“You should see him with his pegs,” Grayson said. “He can kick a man in the face.”

“Grayson,” Jhorn admonished.

But Kal didn’t doubt it.

They sat around the campfire and ate roasted wattlelop, which Burk had caught. Grayson and Burk told tales of their heroic exploits, each trying to one-up the other. Burk put his arm around Onika’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. Whether by his words, touch, or both, she somehow looked even paler. Kal was about to intervene when Grayson knocked into Burk, separating him from Onika. Grayson took her hand and pulled her up and away to her bedroll. Rustian stayed behind and hissed at Burk.

Kal was glad to see Onika had plenty of protectors, but the words she had said still haunted him. “The one comes who will seek to end my calling . . .” What mischief was Burk going to try, and how might Kal prevent it?

“Onika is a beautiful woman,” Burk said, still watching her and Grayson.

“I’ll thank you to keep your hands off her,” Jhorn said. “I don’t need legs to kill a man.”

Kal liked Jhorn more and more each day.

Burk forced a laugh. “Like I’d bother with a blind girl. I want a woman who can cook and clean and keep house.”

“What house?” Kal asked.

“I’ll have one someday,” Burk said. “A mansion.”

“Best wait till you have that mansion to be looking for a wife, eh?” Kal walked to the entrance of the cistern to stand watch, eager to cease communications with the pompous child. Burk went to bed, and eventually Jhorn did too. Kal walked above ground to scan the landscape. The moon had waned but still shone bright. He wondered where Novan was, if Wilek was home, what Mielle might be doing, if Amala was in bed yet.

A yelp brought him to attention. A grunt. The dull thuds of punches.

Kal ran around the cistern and found Burk pummeling Grayson in the dirt outside. The lad was getting a terrible beating, but he had clamped his teeth onto Burk’s leg like a rabid dog.

“Enough!” Kal grabbed Burk’s shoulder, Grayson’s arm, and wrenched them apart. Shook them hard. “What are you doing out here?”

“He threw a stone at me,” Burk said. “Then ran away.”

“He was bothering Onika,” Grayson said. “Jhorn said it’s my job to protect her.”

“You couldn’t protect her from a spider,” Burk said. “Besides, I’m not going to hurt her. I like her.”

“Exactly why she needs protecting,” Grayson said. “And Onika loves me. She told me so.”

“Like a brother, maybe,” Burk said. “An annoying brother.”

“Shut up, both of you.” Kal shook them again. “Neither of you has a thing to offer Onika. No sense fighting over a woman who’d never have you.”

“She’d have me, given time,” Burk said. “I’m good with women.”

Kal pulled him close; the boy reeked of body odor. “Just you push that thought out of your mind, Burk, you hear? If I catch you anywhere near her, I’ll bury you alive in a box of drice.”

The boy shrank a little, and Kal felt they finally understood one another. “To bed, the both of you.” He shoved them away.

Burk stomped back into the cistern.

But Grayson lingered. “Don’t make me sleep near him, please. He’ll beat me again when you’re not looking.”

Why had Jhorn, a former soldier, not taught this boy a thing about fighting? At Grayson’s size, Kal had been fearless. Then he remembered the boy’s true age and sobered. “You must learn to fight your own battles.”

“Jhorn won’t teach me,” Grayson said, his voice forlorn. “Says violence begets violence. But I don’t know what begets means.”

Kal fought back a smile. “It means to create. He means that violence only creates more violence. And he’s right.” It wasn’t Kal’s place to usurp Jhorn’s authority over the boy. “I’ll give you some advice.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir Kalenek! You won’t regret it. I’m a fast learner.”

Oh, this boy . . . “Keep your enemies close,” Kal said. “Get to know Burk, and you’ll learn his weaknesses. He may even confide in you. Then you’ll know how to thwart his plans.”

Grayson nodded. “Keep him close to thwart his plans. Yes, sir. I will.”

“Good. Now get some sleep.”

The next morning they continued south toward Ebro and saw at least two dozen mule deer moving in a herd.

“Haven’t seen so many travel together before,” Jhorn said. “And never this far north.”

The deer were not the first animals to cross their path. There were squirrels, jackrabbits, prairie dogs, ossabey, lizards, snakes, dune cats, quail, rats, a torterus . . . even a fang cat that picked a fight with Rustian and lost.

A dusty cloud bloomed on the horizon. First Kal wondered if there might be a fire, but as they came closer he realized it was dust, not smoke. Foreboding kindled in his gut.

That afternoon they met a group of travelers who claimed Ebro was blocked off.

“A quake two nights ago,” the man said. “The ground caved in from the Ebro Tip to the Great Ice Canyon.”

It couldn’t be. “How wide is the gap?” Kal asked.

“A league or two, and fifty paces deep. There’s no way to cross.”

“I’d like to see it,” Kal told Jhorn. He could never believe it otherwise. “We’re nearly there.”

They continued on, and Kal discovered the travelers had been in earnest. The new canyon looked like any other, except that it was fresh. He recognized the signs of a fall-in from what he had seen in Farway, the way the soil was smooth along the walls but for the river holes that dotted the side. Water gushed from several, making muddy waterfalls.

“River holes,” Burk said.

“Not all of them.” Grayson pointed at smaller holes that were either dry or partially caved in. “Those are root holes.”

“Then where are the roots?” Burk asked.

“Gone,” Grayson said. “Evenroot tunnels often collapse after being harvested. That’s partly why smugglers pay so much for children to harvest root.”

“So we turn back?” Jhorn asked.

Kal pictured a map of the Five Realms in his mind. “If Hebron and the bridges are gone, and Ebro and all of Sarikar are cut off, we have no choice but to head north. We can stop in Lâhaten for supplies. Empress Inolah is a friend of mine. She’ll help us, I’m certain. Then we go on to Jeruka and catch a ship for Everton.”

“Friends with the empress?” Burk snorted. “Sure you are.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Grayson said to Burk. “Sir Kalenek Veroth is shield to Prince Wilek Hadar, the empress’s brother.”

“If he’s a shield, what’s he doing in Magonia?” Burk asked.

“My business is my own,” Kal said. “Our journey has just lengthened, friends. We’re nearly one hundred fifty leagues from Lâhaten. Three weeks, I’d guess.”

“It might as well be forever!” Burk said. “I didn’t leave Kaptar to die in the desert.”

“You’re free to go your own way,” Kal said, wishing the boy would.

“I only hope we have enough time,” Jhorn said.

“I’m open to other ideas,” Kal said, but he knew there were none.

“Could we climb down the canyon and cross on the bottom?” Grayson asked.

Leave it to Grayson to find an actual alternative. “I suppose we could.”

“I’m not going into the canyons!” Burk yelled. “Barthos will eat us.”

“I’m not aware of a low enough place to enter the canyon,” Kal said, ignoring the thief. “We could keep watch for one. I’m not opposed to trying to cut across.”

“We’d still have to find a place to climb up on the other side,” Jhorn said. “And, god or not, something lives in The Grays. I’d rather not be trapped down there when whatever it is feels hungry. Lâhaten would be safest, if we hurry.”

Kal nodded. “We head for Lâhaten. May the wind be at our backs.”