From the top of the palisade, she looked over the outside edge. There was someone there, near the palisade. A black cloaked figure with their back to her. A Keltar. Then a noise from inside the enclosure. She looked back over her shoulder. The sound of a group of soldiers coming from the direction of the guardhouse. Any moment now, they would come into sight and would spot her on top of the palisade and it would be over. There was no choice. She was committed.
She pulled the end of the blanket up and tossed it over the outside of the enclosure. Then, swinging around, she yanked the piece of wood from the blanket, and dropped as swiftly and silently as she could to the sand, landing just behind the cloaked figure. She raised the makeshift club, and brought it down on the back of the Keltar’s neck. At the last moment, a distant part of her mind registered something naggingly familiar about the unruly shock of sandy hair, causing her to pull back slightly. Crack! The Keltar staggered forward from the impact nonetheless. He turned, his left hand clutching the nape of his neck, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Lyall! What are you doing here?”
His face was screwed up in pain. “Trying to rescue you. Although right now, it feels more like I need to be rescued from you.” As if to emphasise the point, he massaged his neck. “Owww!”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” She shook her head. Then she stepped forward and supported him by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
~
Alondo rose to his feet as he saw two figures crest the edge of the dune above the tiny encampment. They were an odd pairing, one tall, with a black cape, topped with a mop of fair hair; the other short, clad in the tan coverall of a tribute. He grinned from ear to ear and began running towards them.
He grabbed the petite girl by the shoulders at arm’s length, and regarded her, as if checking the evidence of his own eyes. “You actually did it; you got her out.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Alondo, but I didn’t do anything. She escaped on her own.”
”You escaped on your own?” Alondo asked in disbelief. “How–?”
“Just be glad she’s on our side.” Lyall rubbed the back of his head.
“I told you, that was an accident,” she protested. “I just–” she stopped in mid-sentence. Lyall was smiling. She hit him playfully on the arm.
“Owww.”
Alondo’s grin widened again. “So…what now?”
“Time to pack up and leave.” He headed for the encampment. Shann and Alondo tagged along behind.
“What about Roanol and the others?” Shann called after Lyall.
“Who?” Alondo probed.
“Roan–I mean the tributes at the compound,” she corrected.
“Don’t worry Shann, I haven’t forgotten them,” Lyall assured her.
“Roanol, eh?” Alondo whispered in her ear.
“Shhh!” Shann’s look was threatening.
They began taking down the awnings and packing away the other gear. “Where are we headed?” Shann asked Lyall.
“The road east.”
“What’s our destination?”
Lyall paused. “Well to be honest, I’m not completely certain. But there’s someone I’m hoping to meet along the way.”
Chapter 11
Keris swept over the smooth sands of the Southern Desert and entered the forbidding gates of Gort. The guards on duty barely had time to acknowledge her passing. I must be swift. Any moment now, word would spread of the attack on the compound, and the fortress would be on high alert. She needed to buy some time, and for that she needed a diversion. She hurried in the direction of the barracks.
It was shortly after dawn, but most of the fortress’ inhabitants were up and about. More importantly, the garrison would have mustered for the day’s activity; hence the barracks should be all but deserted. She entered one of the low wooden buildings, and poked her head inside the sleeping quarters. As expected, they were deserted.
She stepped inside and calmly reached into the pouch at her belt, bringing out a lodestone grenade. Placing her other hand over it, she gave it one half twist and tossed it toward the bunks at the far end. There was a low whine, increasing in pitch, followed by an explosion of white light and heat. Flames and then smoke rapidly took hold of the bunks and the wooden floor. She stepped back, twisting the top half of another silver coloured sphere and threw it toward the other end of the barracks, bringing another blossoming of light and flame.
There was something strangely satisfying, even cathartic about her actions. During the violence of the events at the guardhouse, she had been detached, professional. Her body and her staff had moved automatically in response to the need to remove the hostile threat–without emotion, without thought. Afterward, though, as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought, the lives she had taken, she felt physically sick. She had acted to save the lives of others, but she still felt sullied by all that she had been forced to do up to this point.
Now, as she watched the flames lick upward, consuming the barracks, it felt as if she were purging herself, expunging forever her old life of service to a creature who was determined to destroy everything she held dear, to achieve his own ends.
What her new life would hold for her she did not know but for the first time in a long while, she felt clean. For now, that was enough.
She turned and exited the burning barracks, heading for the armoury.
The armoury building was a short distance away, near the casemate. Keris waited near the stone wall of the fortified structure, feigning a preoccupation with her equipment. All too soon, there were frenzied shouts from the direction of the barracks. Soldiers began running towards the source of the disturbance, and moments later were joined by the two guards from the armoury itself. Keris waited until they were out of sight, and then slipped inside.
The inner room was poorly lit. Wooden shelves set into the rough stone walls were packed with equipment and boxes. A few crates were stacked against the far wall. Keris found a small sack and began rapidly poring over the items on display, locating what she needed. She worked quickly, replacing anything that she disturbed. Then, tying the sack to her belt, she left the armoury, checking that no-one saw her.
She needed just one more thing. Hurrying across the worn stone cobbles, she made for the Commander’s office.
The office was inside the casemate, at the far end. She entered and saw no-one around. They were all at the barracks no doubt, trying to bring the inexplicable fire under control. The office door was not locked. Her eye scanned the interior and settled on a loose collection of books and scrolls on a table off to one side. She rifled through them, selecting the scroll she needed and stuffing it into her sack.
She turned to leave and stopped. A figure stood in the doorway clad in a rich russet surcoat over leather armour, barring her exit. He was shorter than she was, but still carried an imposing air. His thin features transformed into a visage of pure contempt. His tail twitched in agitation. “You!”
Keris reached behind her and grasped her staff. “Get out of my way, Ferenek.”
Ferenek did not move. “I should have known when you turned up with that…that thing, that you were up to no good.” Keris felt her ire kindle at the description of Boxx. “Why would a Keltar, a sworn servant of the Prophet, turn against their own? Answer me!”
“The Prophet is not who he claims to be.” Keris met his piercing gaze. “He is not Kelanni. He wants to bring about our destruction as a people.”
“You’re mad!” he exclaimed.
“No,” her voice was calm. “We are being deceived. Ask yourself, why would the Prophet enslave so many? Why does he need so much of the lodestone? Why has he never revealed his true purpose?”
Ferenek looked a little less sure of himself. “I am a soldier,” he declared. “It is not my place to question doctrine.”
“You are not a new born dagan,” she countered, “that you should run with the herd over a cliff. Use your head. Ask questions. See wheth
er what I say is true or not.”
Ferenek shook his head, as if trying to free himself from the disquieting thoughts she had planted there. “You must be returned to Chalimar to answer for what you have done. I will not let you pass.” He drew his short bladed weapon.
In a single movement, Keris knocked the blade away with one end of her staff and brought the other end down against his temple. The man crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She stepped over the unconscious form.
Yes, you will.
~
It was not a killing blow. Ferenek would wake up with a bad mood and a splitting headache, but no more. She reflected on her short discussion with the man. Ferenek might be overly attached to form and discipline, but he was not a bad man. If she had had more time, she might have been able to get through to him. She could rely on the fact that he would be making a full report to Mordal of her actions. It hardly mattered; she had no intention of returning to the keep.
Keris hurried out of the casemate and made her way towards the main gate. Clouds of smoke were billowing up from the direction of the barracks. The few people who saw her hurried past, paying her no attention.
She tried to imagine what Mordal’s reaction would be. She was convinced that she was doing the right thing; all the same, she did not enjoy the thought of disappointing him. She was in a very real sense his protégé, the person he had nurtured to be his successor. He believed that the Prophet’s way was right, but he had also instilled in her a love for the Kelanni people and a desire to protect them.
“The people need us,” he would insist, “to keep them on the path, and to prevent them being manipulated by others. We must not let them down.” You trained me too well.
A thought occurred to her. If she could convince Mordal of the Prophet’s true intentions, then she would have a powerful ally. Mordal had said that he trusted her instincts. Maybe it was time to put that trust to the test? She looked at the back of her hand. The lodestone ring was dark, but it was still Linked to one held by Mordal. She had considered throwing it away, but now she thought better of it. She did not know if he would listen, but if he didn’t, then she would not have lost anything. I have to try to explain–I owe him that much.
She passed through the gate and turned right, trudging through the sand beneath Gort’s imposing walls. Passing out of sight of the gate, she came to the eastern side of the massive bulwark. There, propped up against the outer wall, were a haphazard collection of loose timbers, as if left there by a work crew. Keris pulled the timbers apart and located a sack. As she loosened the neck, the sack moved, and a round head with bead-like eyes popped out. The mouth rippled. “Is It Time To Leave, Keris?” Boxx asked in its high, child-like voice.
She helped untangle it from the sack. “Yes, it is time to leave.”
~
They’ve caught up to us. Shann saw the dark-robed Keltar slice through the air and alight on the road in front of them, like a thrown down challenge. I’m ready for you.
She pulled her staff free of the saddle pack, and ran to meet the tall woman with dark flowing hair. She stopped a few steps away and planted both feet in the sand, holding the staff in front of her with both hands, daring the foul servant of the Prophet to take one more step. Shann was still dressed in the tan coverall of a tribute.
The tall woman stood in the road calmly, not reacting to the other’s provocative gesture.
From behind her, she heard Lyall call her name, “Shann.” His tone of voice was not one of encouragement. It sounded sharp, more like a rebuke. Confused, she turned her head to see him walk past, coming between her and the imposing woman. He stopped before the Keltar and bowed. “Welcome–Keris, isn’t it? I am honoured to make your acquaintance at last. I am Lyall. The other man over there by the morgren, who also owes you his life, is Alondo. And our overly zealous companion here,” he indicated the girl behind him, who was still poised to do battle, “is called Shann.” He turned to face the girl. “Put the staff away, please, Shann.”
Shann complied, feeling a detached sense of unreality, as if she had somehow fallen asleep and was trapped within her own fevered imaginings. What’s going on?
“Forgive me,” Lyall was saying, “the girl’s reaction is my fault. I had not explained the nature of our escape from the compound or your part in it…” His voice trailed off as he saw a creature with jointed legs and a segmented shell scamper across the sand and come to a halt next to the Keltar. It stood up on its rear legs, appraising them. “That is a Chandara, is it not?” His voice was filled with wonder.
“Indeed,” Keris spoke up. “It is part of the reason I am here. I am sure you must have many questions. Ail-Gan will be rising soon. If you would like to make camp, then I would be pleased to tell you of the events that have led me here.
Lyall nodded. “Alondo,” he called out, “we make camp here. Break out the awnings and see what rations we have left. We have a guest for dinner.”
~
The wind dropped and the air fell to stillness as Keris began her story. She told of her meeting with Mordal, and her orders to find the one who had attacked a Keltar, bearing the cloak and staff. Her investigation in Corte that had led her to the Inn where Shann worked, and her discovery that the Innkeeper had been executed.
Shann, who had been looking distinctly uncomfortable listening to the words of a Keltar, suddenly rounded on the woman. “Poltann is dead? You…you killed him?”
“By the time I arrived, the execution had already taken place,” Keris explained.
“What about Gallar? What happened to her?”
“Gallar?” Keris inquired.
“She…worked at the Wayfarer.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what happened to anyone else. The Captain acted beyond his orders. I did the only thing I could, which was to order the soldiers to return to Chalimar to ensure that there were no further executions. The innkeeper was the only person who died, of that I am sure.”
Alondo broke in; his voice charged with empathy. “I’m sorry, Shann. There was nothing you could have done.”
“You knew about this?” She exclaimed. Alondo lowered his head.
“It was too dangerous for you to return to Corte.” Lyall was firm. “We arranged for Hedda to travel there to see what had become of Gallar, your guardian. If she is alive, then Hedda will see to it that she is safe.”
Shann fell silent, seemingly mollified for the present.
Keris went on to describe how she had trailed them from Corte to Lind, and had caught up with them at the pass.
“I was preparing to intercept you, when I was…taken by a perridon.” She saw Lyall raise his eyebrows. “I was preoccupied at the time. Anyway, it knocked me unconscious and carried me to its nest. The Chandara rescued me.”
Lyall looked over at the strange little beast. It lay perfectly still next to Keris. It was not clear whether it was even listening. “I have never heard of Chandara leaving their forest.”
“They were seeking a Kelanni. I am not sure, but I think it was just co-incidence that I was the one they found. They saved me from the perridon and brought me back to their Great Tree. I think they even healed my broken leg somehow. I don’t remember much, except that when I woke up in the Tree, I was whole.”
“Incredible.” Lyall seemed lost in thought.
“They waited for me to recover. Then I was taken to an audience chamber, where they activated this…” Keris reached into the pack on the creature’s back. It did not react. She drew out the silver machine with its multi-coloured workings.
Alondo reached a hand out. “May I?” She handed him the device and he inspected it closely, turning it over in his hands. “Fascinating,” he breathed.
“What is it?” Lyall asked.
Alondo’s voice sounded far away. “I have absolutely no idea. But it’s beautiful…very sophisticated. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He looked at Keris enquiringly. “Who made it?”
“It comes from more than three thousand turns ago.”
Alondo regarded her with an expression of disbelief. “How could you possibly know that?”
“It spoke to me,” she maintained. “There was the image of a woman from the past, who called herself ‘Annata’. Somehow, she sent the machine to us, to warn us about the Prophet. He is building a device to destroy the Kelanni.”
Lyall leaned forward. “Did she say where this device is?
“Not precisely. She said that it was being constructed at Persillan, but that after the revolt there eleven turns ago, it was moved to an island that lies somewhere beyond the Great Barrier of Storms.”
Lyall looked at Alondo. “The bronze coloured globe,” he offered. Alondo nodded slightly.
Keris looked from one to the other. “The what?”
Lyall turned back to Keris. “We…heard that there was a device found at Persillan at the time of the revolt. Also that the revolt was ended by an explosion of great power.”
“Really?” Keris was intrigued. “The revolt happened before I was appointed as Keltar. We were never told any details, other than that the Prophet had been victorious.” I wonder if Mordal knows about this; it might make it easier to convince him.
Shann appeared to rouse from her self-absorbed state. “You’re saying there’s a woman in that thing? She must be no higher than my hand.”
“Keris said it was the image of a woman, Shann,” Lyall reminded her.
“All right, prove it. Show her to us,” Shann demanded.
Lyall considered this. “Can you activate the device, Keris?”
Keris shook her head. “I’m sorry; I don’t know how it works. It was the Chandara who operated it last time.”
Their eyes turned to the creature. It lay with its head on the sand, unconcerned.
“Chandara–” Lyall addressed it.
“Its name is Boxx,” Keris put in.
“Your Chandara has a name?” Alondo registered surprise.
Lyall’s forehead creased, as if he were trying to remember a half forgotten song. “That’s very interesting.”
“How so?” Keris asked.
“Well in the Ancient tongue, ‘Boxx’ means ‘Key.’”