BULAN AND AQREEN WATCHED grimly. The Vanjhani had angled each of their heads to be able to see almost completely around themself. Not a Perfect Circle, but close enough.
On every side, they saw the same thing: A sand cloud so high, it could only be raised by a sandstorm or a massed force moving at great speed.
They already knew it wasn’t a sandstorm.
No sandstorm formed a giant circle, then closed in on its center.
That left only a massed force.
But a force large enough to surround the entire length of the train, with miles to spare on every side would have to be . . . Bulan couldn’t even begin to calculate how many dromads and mortal bodies it would take to make a force that enormous.
Millions? Tens of millions?
Whatever the size of the force, it was impossible to think of any viable defense.
“Shall we form a Perfect Circle, Train Master?” Aqreen asked with a clipped tone that spoke more to her militia training and self-discipline than a genuine desire to execute the maneuver.
Bulan turned one head to look at her. The face smiled sadly at her.
“My lady, you know as well as we do that it takes us, even with so many years of experience on the trail, several hours to form the Perfect Circle. And even if we do so before that force reaches us, what then? No circle, perfect or otherwise, could fight a force that huge. We would only be expending our energy and wasting valuable time.”
Her chin quivered briefly, betraying her acceptance of what she had also known. “Then what shall we do?” she asked in a soft, pleading voice, totally unlike the strong, powerful woman Bulan had come to know, to respect, and yes, they could admit it to themself at last, love.
Not the love of a lover, perhaps, because they would never admit their feelings to a woman who was still living in the shadow of a cruel monster of a husband and complicate her already troubled life further, but the love of a dear friend, one who had fought and bled alongside Aqreen and loved her and her daughter as dearly as if they were Bulan’s own family. They were Bulan’s family. Every single person on this train was, as well, but Aqreen and Krush were the ones closest to Bulan’s hearts.
“I have an idea,” Bulan said. They turned one head to look in the direction of Aqreen’s wagon. They had noticed Krush going inside a while ago. They understood implicitly the reason for Krush disappearing into her wagon at unexpected times. Not to lie down and “take a rest” as she told her friend Afranus, but to keep her body safe while she roamed the highways of the spaces between places and times. Bulan themself had advised it after the Battle Against the Deadwalkers, and Krush had seen the logic in it. On every occasion thereafter, she had done the same. That way, at least Bulan and Aqreen didn’t have to worry that her body might be harmed while her spirit was away from it.
Aqreen saw the direction of Bulan’s gaze.
“No, not little Krush,” she said wearily, “not again.”
Bulan put a hand on Aqreen’s shoulder, reassuring her. “She is not little anymore, my lady. She is of age, and old enough to take care of herself. She has proven that on ample occasions. These last few years, when we turned away from Reygar, we could never have survived without her powers to aid us.”
Not being able to go into Reygar had been a crushing disappointment to everyone on the train. After coming all this way and enduring so many hardships, it had seemed inconceivable that they could not enter it when they were only a little more than a hundred miles short. But the Maatri scouts posted by the matriarchs had been crystal clear: Reygar is under siege and can accept no visitors.
After the unexpected encounter with the Maha-Maatri Ladislew and her departure, they had learned that the traitor Dirrdha’s army had laid siege to the city. It was an odd siege, since the army wasn’t actually within sight of Reygar but was camped some one hundred and fifty miles north of it.
Yet it was a siege all the same. Dirrdha possessed enough numbers to effectively box in the city, cutting off all the major routes. Lone riders could still try to break free, but Reygar had tried, and each time, the escapees had been killed before they could get very far.
Besides, where did one go from Reygar? The other cities of Reygistan were anywhere from a thousand to five thousand miles away. They looked to Reygar for help in times of trouble.
In any case, the point was moot. The matriarchs would rather die than leave Reygar. They had spent ten thousand years building the city, and they had stood against too many enemies before to simply pull up roots and leave.
So the Maatri remained, and so long as they remained, almost the entire population of Reygar would not dream of leaving. This was the safest place to be.
Besides, what would Dirrdha do? He could surround the city, lay siege, attack the walls a thousand times in a thousand years, and he would never take it.
Reygar could not be taken.
It was not a city built upon a mountain.
It was a city built from a mountain. The very walls and structures of the houses that rose in concentric spiraling circles from the bottom to the top were carved out of solid rock. Inside the heart of the mountain was a labyrinth of tunnels that led to deep underground caverns where a network of lakes and ponds lay. The city had the greatest water supply in the entire Red Desert, enough to keep the population well hydrated for ten thousand years so far. Water meant the ability to grow food, to water cattle and fowl and other livestock. What else did a people need to survive?
Reygar would stand eternally, and the Maatri would hold Dirrdha at bay while he and his enormous army would starve and die of thirst out on the red sands. In everyone’s opinion, Dirrdha had the worst part of the bargain.
Yet, defying all odds, all logic, Dirrdha’s encirclement of Reygar remained, month after month, year after year.
Somehow, impossible though it seemed, his soldiers were able to get food and water even out in the wasteland of the Red Desert.
In fact, he seemed to be in no hurry whatsoever to take Reygar.
In the two years before the wagon train’s arrival, he had attacked the city only once, at the very outset. Casualties had been light on both sides as the Maatri had seen the invading force coming from hundreds of miles away and had been prepared. For his part, Dirrdha appeared only to want to press home the point that he was there and wanted Reygar. Once the point was made, he withdrew his forces to a distance of some few hundred miles, and there he stayed to this day.
Or had stayed, till some weeks ago, which was the last time Bulan had received news from Reygar.
With entry into Reygar refused to the train, Bulan had had no choice.
They had been forced to change course for the next Reygistani city. The much smaller, much less desirable—from a trade as well as a living point of view—city of Renshor. That was a journey of another two thousand miles.
The travelers had not wanted to extend their journey, which all agreed had been too long and too arduous already. But by this time, they were unified. They knew Bulan could do nothing else. Waiting out in the desert for the siege to end was no solution. If Dirrdha won, they would risk their lives and all their precious cargo—a lifetime’s worth of wealth in the form of goods to most. And camping outside Reygar in the hopes that the matriarchs would win could mean waiting an untold number of years.
No, there was no help for it.
They turned toward Renshor with heavy hearts and weary bodies, bracing themselves for another long leg of thankless travel.
And now, when they were only a few hundred miles from their destination, this was happening.
What this was exactly and how or why it was happening, Bulan did not know.
The only force this enormous in the Red Desert was that of Dirrdha’s invaders. But why would Dirrdha leave his prime target, Reygar, to come after a wagon train carrying goods?
The question would baffle many, but not the three people who knew the answer.
Bulan, Aqreen, and Krushita knew that whether this was Dirrdha’s army or some other prodigious force, the sole malefactor behind this was Jarsun. It seemed the Krushan had decided to finally end this game once and for all.
A force of such a size would roll over the train like a firestorm, wiping them all out within minutes. Even if all the travelers had been Vanjhani, Bulan could not have expected a single one to survive. This was no less than the deadwalkers. Perhaps even worse in some ways. The deadwalkers were mindless killing things, laying waste to everything in their path. If these were Dirrdha’s soldiers, they were Jarsun’s soldiers. And Jarsun might not consider death a hard enough end for some of them. He might want to keep them alive for torture, abuse, or slavery—who knew what foul fates he had in mind for the hapless survivors? And he would get what he truly wanted at last: Krushita. And with her, the key to the Burning Throne and the Burnt Empire. And then the world entire.
Unless.
Unless Krushita could use her powers once again.
Bulan hurried to the wagon where Krushita still stood, staring in furious disbelief at the approaching sand clouds. Aqreen was by their side, and she went to her daughter first.
Krushita cried out at the sight of her mother and fell into her arms. Aqreen caught her, and both mother and daughter hugged fiercely, tears flowing down their cheeks.
“Why did he have to do this now?” Krushita said plaintively. She sounded angrier than Bulan had ever seen her before. “I only needed a little more time to end it. He must know. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Aqreen stepped back and looked at her daughter. “What are you talking about? Who is he?”
Krushita shook her head impatiently. “There’s no time to explain now, Ma.”
Aqreen caught her daughter by the shoulders. “What are you not telling me, Krush?”
Krushita sighed. “Who else?”
Aqreen’s face changed.
Bulan saw it. The expression that came over her was a sadly familiar one. One that conveyed all the years of pain, suffering, anxiety, and more that could not even be comprehended fully by anyone else. They suspected Krush knew what Aqreen felt at such moments; she could slip into and out of anyone’s mind as she pleased. They even thought she might be coming and going in and out of Bulan’s mind at times, though Bulan had never been able to catch her red-handed. Yet there were times when they felt a whisper-soft touch, like a hint of a breeze not on one’s own skin but somewhere nearby.
“Your father,” Aqreen said in a resigned tone. “Of course. But what did you mean, you needed more time to end it? End what? What does he know that I don’t know?”
Krush shook her head. “It’s not something I can explain. It has to do with portals and stopping him once and for all.”
“You mean by stopping that?” Aqreen gestured at the distant sand clouds.
Bulan was not surprised to see that they were a little closer now, and approaching at the same relentless pace. How long would it take to reach the train? A half hour? An hour? It was difficult to tell for sure, but not more than an hour. It could be a whole lot sooner. Too soon for anyone to do anything—except Krush.
“No,” Krush said angrily. “I didn’t expect that. He’s doing that deliberately because he knows I was doing something to help end him for good. This is his way of trying to stop me before I can stop him.”
Aqreen raised both her hands, clutching her head. “I can’t make sense of what you’re saying, Krush. I know it makes perfect sense to you, but not to me.”
Krush raised herself on her toes and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I will tell you everything afterward, but right now, I need to think. I need to figure out how to handle this.” She frowned, her mind already drifting inward. “Maybe he can help me here. He’s more powerful than either of us. He has to!”
Aqreen looked at Bulan in despair. Then, finding no answer in their two faces, looked back at her daughter. “I hope you don’t mean your father? Because asking him for help is like asking the fire not to burn. You wouldn’t make that mistake, would you, Krush?”
Krush looked at Bulan. “Bulan, please take care of her. I need to go away. Inside. You understand.”
Bulan nodded grimly. “I do, Krush. You do what you must, what you can. I’ll take care of her and you as well. It’s best if you go into the wagon. You’re safest there.”
Krushita started climbing the wooden ladder again. Suddenly, she leaned over and kissed her mother on the top of her head. “I’ll be back quickly, I promise. I’ll explain everything. This will all be over soon. I will stop him this time and end it for good. I know I can. I will.”
And then she was up the ladder, at the top, and through the flaps.
Aqreen turned to Bulan, her forehead crisscrossed with worry lines.
“What will we do now, Bulan? This is bad, really bad. I have a terrible feeling about it.”
Bulan surprised themself by putting their arms around Aqreen, embracing her gently. They were careful not to use too much pressure. Their arms just reached low enough to encircle her upper back, and their biceps bulged out over Aqreen’s head by several inches.
Aqreen reacted by stiffening for a moment, instinctively, then relaxed and hugged Bulan back as best as she could. Both her outstretched arms barely went around one side of them, but that was sufficient. She pressed her head against Bulan’s muscled bulk, and they felt her shudder.
She was afraid.
Bulan was afraid too.