41

They ate a final hot meal and once more drank their fill of tea. Then they hobbled the horses by the narrow patch of green and used a stone with a hollow like a natural trench as a watering trough. They piled oats on another stone, then set off.

They crossed the final ridges and entered the yellow plains. Hyam listened to their rasping breaths and knew their deaths probably awaited them beyond the shimmering horizon. Unless he was right in his planning. Unless he could look beyond his doubts and fears. Unless . . .

They stopped at a series of regular shapes rising from the sands. Selim reckoned they had arrived at the first caravansary, and suggested they make camp. He explained how a city the size of Alyss would have several journeymen camps, and the farthest removed would be for the corralling and butchering of livestock.

The sun was a molten orb on the western horizon. They did not risk fire or mage-heat, which meant they ate a cold meal washed down with water. The unseen city held them now. As Hyam reviewed their plans for the next day, he felt the vast emptiness swallow his words as soon as they were formed.

He was about to suggest they turn in early when Meda said softly, “Ho, the bird.”

A faint speck appeared in the northern sky, drifted down, and became a bird with wings broader than a man’s reach. The desert eagle held a bundle in its claws, which it dropped at Hyam’s feet before landing.

Hyam ignored the bundle, stomped over, and demanded, “Where have you been?”

The bird chattered swiftly, “Your foes watch the skies. The master bade me hide.”

“He promised you would guide us!”

“And that is why I have come.”

Hyam planted fists on hips, ready to condemn, but in the end thought better of quarreling with a bird whose help was desperately needed. He translated for the others, who now clustered about him. His relief was so great he had to concede, “It is very good to see you.”

The bird preened, clearly pleased. “The master says the enemy suspects you are coming. They do not see you, but they sense your arrival. Which is bad. But they also fear you. Which is very good indeed.”

Hyam nodded. It was to be expected, but still the news left him quaking. “Can the dragon see them?”

“My master senses what he cannot see.”

“Can we go around Alyss?”

“The surrounding coast is under their control. The seas as well. To meet my master, you must journey from the city harbor. It is the one point of contact ever permitted between your race and his.”

Which meant they had to meet the foe. If only Hyam could make it on his terms. “Understood.”

“The master asks, do you intend to confront the evil head-on?”

“I see no alternative.”

“The master agrees.” The bird pointed with its beak at the bundle. “He says this should help you make the required transition.”

Hyam glanced down at the bundle. The cloth covering was the color of fresh blood. He realized what he saw and halted his objection before it was uttered. There was nothing to be gained from arguing with the messenger. He said to the bird, “For our plan to work, we need two hills. Set well apart from each other. And from which we can observe each other as well as the enemy’s approach.”

The bird flapped its wings once, twice, rising up three times Hyam’s height. Then it settled, facing east. Its head cocked back and forth. Then, “A mound marks what were the northern corrals.”

“How far?”

“On foot . . .” The bird partly extended its wings, almost a shrug. “Just beyond the horizon.”

Call it two hours’ walk. “And the second?”

“Straight ahead are the remnants of the main gates. To the south rises the last tower of Alyss.”

“Excellent.”

The bird leapt skyward. “Farewell, Emissary. My master bids you success and awaits you beyond the harbor!”

divider

They rested through the first part of the night, though Hyam did not sleep. There was no moon, and the absence of a fire left Hyam feeling as though the night and the desert fought over who would swallow them.

In the dark hour before daybreak they rose in silence, ate a few bites, drank more water, then stood awkwardly. Hyam was searching for a way to thank them properly when the normally silent Alembord said, “My lady, I have a request to make.”

Shona replied, “There is no need to address me in this manner.”

“My lady,” he repeated. “I would ask that you allow me to offer fealty.”

Shona was so shocked, Alembord had already knelt in the dust before she managed, “I hold no title.”

“Yet,” Meda said softly. “But you will. Soon.”

“My lady, I ask to be the first to pledge you his loyalty and his life,” Alembord said. He stumbled a bit but struggled gamely on, and neither the night nor their paltry numbers could halt the flow. “I ask the privilege of serving whatever cause you declare your own. With all that I am and all that I have, to the utmost of my abilities, to the giving of my life’s last breath if it is required of me. So do I pledge.”

Meda stepped forward, unsheathed the Milantian sword, and turned it so that she held it balanced upon her forearm, the hilt facing toward Shona. “Do you accept his gift?”

“I . . . Yes.”

“Then tap him on both shoulders, and thank him, and speak his name, and invite him to rise.”

As Shona did so, the memory of having done the same for Joelle caused Hyam’s eyes to burn.

But the pre-dawn hour held more surprises still, for when Shona tried to return the sword, Meda said, “I want you to keep it.”

“But . . . Hyam . . .”

“The blade is neither Hyam’s nor mine. It belongs to Joelle. And I saw the havoc she wreaked during the Emporis battle. You heard of this.”

“Many times,” Shona said quietly. “But I don’t know how to use it.”

Hyam replied, “Neither did she.” He nodded to Meda. “It is a good idea. I wish I had thought of it.”

Meda offered what Hyam suspected would be the day’s only smile. “Good thing you have me here, then.”

“It is indeed,” Hyam agreed. To Shona, he went on, “Whatever spell you build with the orb, direct it through the sword. That’s my advice.”

They stood there a moment, united by bonds strong enough to defy the city’s oppressive force. Finally Selim said, “Dawn comes.”

Hyam embraced them one by one. Then he stepped back and said, “Until we meet at the harbor.”

divider

Selim carried his bow and a full quiver as they crossed the darkened plain. “What do your warriors speak of on their way to battle?”

“I have no idea. My only experience with war was Emporis. And the day before that fight, I wed Joelle.” Hyam stared into the vague wash of an unborn day. “That morning we spoke of love.”

They trudged on for a time, then Selim asked, “You have seen the great forest?”

“I was raised on its borders.”

“Some other time, you must tell me of this place.”

“With pleasure.” The renegade Elf remained a silhouette against the night’s final stars. Hyam said, “You’re a professional traveler. Why have you never gone?”

“I went to Ethrin once. Nowadays it is nothing but a sweep of desert pines. I breathed the taint of ancient wounds. The lure was still strong for me, and I feared . . .”

“You were concerned you might enter the forest and never leave, and thus lose what you now have,” Hyam said. “The desert and the caravan and the life you’ve built for yourself.”

“And my beloved family,” Selim added. “My grandfather filled our hidden valley with a grove of eucalyptus and cottonwood and fruit trees. I brought back seedlings from Ethrin. When I am home, I go out at the full moon and sing to them the Elven welcome. I taught my daughters the melody. I have named my valley Ethrin. It is enough.”

“I would love to see your valley and walk among those trees.”

“And so you shall,” Selim vowed. “Soon.”

The tower rose from the gloom, a sullen thumb carved into the pale wash. They hustled, then trotted, then raced the gathering dawn. They puffed hard as they scaled the outer wall, the surface so pitted it was almost like climbing a broken staircase.

When they arrived at the top, they scanned the ruined city. There was little left of Alyss save the faint shadows of straight lines and square foundations, the symbols of man’s grandeur, now lost to time and sand. Still, it made for an awesome vista, for the ruins stretched out in unbroken silence, so vast they could see no hint of the sea beyond.

When Selim had caught his breath, he said, “I spy no enemy.”

“I think Milantians live underground,” Hyam replied. “Lystra was not a city that the passing eons turned into hills. The Milantians chose hills as a base and built into them. Same with the red ridges we passed. Perhaps the golems were first created in some distant epoch, intended to carve homes in mountains that are no more.”

“So you think they are here.”

“I am certain of it. Our job is to draw them out.” Hyam inspected the renegade Elf. “Does your clan hold to any tales about Alyss from before the fall?”

“Our family’s legacy describes this city as a haven for many races, a carnival for the senses, where even a half-wit could build a fortune and establish both a name and a reason for his days. That was how my forefather referred to himself. A half-wit who fell in love with an innkeeper’s daughter.”

“And became a man of wealth with a reason for his days.” Hyam knelt on the tower’s dusty stones and unwrapped the bundle brought to him by the desert bird. “Who could ask for more?”

Selim studied him for a time, then said, “My wife told me I must make this journey. The night of my return from Emporis, she said I had changed, and for the better. I told her of you and of the quest. I then tried to speak of Lystra but could not.”

“The dragon told the queen he would seal our lips,” Hyam recalled.

“I told my wife of our destination. I wanted her to know the risks. Do you know what she said?”

Hyam held a crimson robe out at arm’s length for them both to inspect. “I have no idea.”

“She said something had been awakened in me. Something she had loved from our first meeting but never seen fully revealed until now. She said I must see this quest through to the end, then come home to her with my heart intact. At long last.” Selim watched Hyam slip the robe over his head. “Why do you suppose the dragon wants you to wear the cloak of a Milantian mage?”

“To confuse our enemy,” Hyam replied. “And to confirm my heritage.”

“Let us hope it works.” Selim pointed to the hill becoming ever clearer in the gathering light. “They signal us. It is time to begin.”