“You can have full confidence in them,” Lenora said.
“I hope so.” Angel walked past Lenora and touched her shoulder briefly, squeezing, and she took that as gratitude. “S’Hivez!” Angel called.
Lenora turned in time to see the old Mage sitting up in his saddle.
“S’Hivez, it’s time to fly on. This place tastes as good as it ever did, and it’ll be ours. But do you want to feel young again? Do you want to feel better?”
S’Hivez mumbled and Angel laughed, and her voice sounded like that of a young girl about to slit her own mother’s throat. Sweet, poison.
“With us, Lenora, just you!” she shouted. “Tell your Krotes to hold this place for the next week until our army lands.”
Lenora turned and ran back to the harbor, heading for where one of her men had landed with his hawk, issuing orders even as she leaped into the saddle and urged the creature aloft.
They’re not supposed to be here so soon, she thought, but it was not bitter. The fact they had arrived illustrated that events were moving on apace, and she was glad that her mistress demanded her company. Now that they were back in Noreela, wherever the Mages went was where the action would be. New history being forged.
Lenora was more than happy to be along for the ride.
Tim Lebbon
Dusk
Chapter 25
“I’VE BEEN THERE,”Kosar said. He could not look at any of them, because the memory of Kang Kang was not something to be shared. “At least, I’ve been near there, and that was enough. It’s not… right.”
“And a river that runs uphill is?” Trey asked.
“Kang Kang has never been right,” Kosar said. “What we saw back at San was a travesty, but one with a very human cause due to what the Mages did. A’Meer, Hope, you must have heard the stories? Those mountains are not meant for humankind, and they should have never been a part of Noreela. They harbor things that should not be and which we can never know. A’Meer? Haven’t you heard?”
“Of course I have,” she said quietly.
“Hope?” Kosar asked.
The witch shrugged, shook her head. “I’ve heard a thousand tales, but never from someone I believed had truly been there. Men have always tried to impress me, women to make me jealous or mock me. I’ve heard more stories than I’d care to recall, but I don’t believe any of them. But I do know part of what you say is true, at least: Kang Kang is not of this land.”
Rafe sat silently on his horse, the others glancing up at him, down again, trying to make sense. He offered no response to Kosar’s argument. He had stated his aim, and it seemed that he had no inclination to discuss it further.
“Rafe, New Shanti is where you’ll be safest, I have no doubt of that,” Kosar said. “A’Meer has told me a lot about her people, their ways and their aims. They’re the opposite of the Red Monks. They’ll do anything- anything -to keep you alive and safe. A’Meer herself almost died trying to do so, you know that as well as anyone. Imagine ten thousand A’Meers fighting for you.”
“A million A’Meers could fight for me,” Rafe said, “and I’d be grateful. They could protect me and hide me, but in the end only magic can save itself. That’s why I need to go to Kang Kang.”
“Is it the magic telling you to go?” Trey asked.
“It doesn’t tell me to do anything. It can’t. It has no mind, nothing controlling it. Perhaps it leaves hints, offers suggestions, but they’re not orders. I don’t want to go there any more than you, Kosar, but I simply know it’s the safest place for me right now. The right place. If there’s going to be a war because of me, I’d rather be away from everyone else.”
“We should move,” A’Meer said. “We can talk about it while we’re walking.”
Kosar went to touch her arm but she was already turning, heading off ahead to scout the ground. She had her hand resting permanently on her sword hilt, as if certain that they would be battling again before the night was out.
RAFE SAT INthe saddle and moved in time with the horse. He had ridden a horse virtually every day back in Trengborne, either going out into the fields to take food to his parents, giving a lift to one of the elderly villagers as they went to and from the market, or simply exploring the hillsides of the wide valley. His mother had often told him that he learned to ride before he started walking. His horse back there had been a dappled Rhoshan, crossbred with a more common Laphal, but still with thoroughbred blood running through its veins, its race memory no doubt giving it dreams of running wild across the Cantrass Plains. He had named her Suki, and he had regarded her as a friend. She was not his and his alone-the poor farmers owned very little, everything was for the use of all-but she was his favorite, and he always believed that she gave a snort of pleasure when he approached, saddled her up and guided her out of the stables. Her Rhoshan blood made her less easy to control, but Rafe had liked that. They had ridden many miles together. He hoped that she was not dead. But it was a vain hope. The stables had been locked, and after the Red Monk visited their village there was no one left to open them.
Thinking of his life in the village comforted Rafe, because it made him feel more like himself. By dwelling on the hard days in the field he found that his own personality came to the fore once again. He rediscovered himself in those memories, pleased to realize that he had been there all along. Driven into hiding, perhaps, by the thing rising in his mind. Shocked into dumbness by its power. It was huge, intimidating, humbling and terrifying, but Rafe was still Rafe. This thing inside him was using him for a ride, just as he had once used Suki. He only hoped that the mutual admiration was the same.
He had lied to Trey, and he did not know why. The magic had not told him to go to Kang Kang, because as yet it did not possess a voice, but it had strongly suggested that path to him. In his sleep, in his unconsciousness-and in his mind’s eye now if he chose to look in and down toward that deep, dark place-its guidance toward those distant mountains was obvious. Behind them was heat and poison, ahead was danger and conflict, and it was only in the direction of Kang Kang that a successful outcome seemed possible. Just as he had lied to Trey, Rafe had no way of knowing how honest these visions and perceptions were. He did not know this magic. It was as much a stranger to him now as it had been back in Trengborne, as he hid beneath his home and watched the Monk slaughter his parents, heard it whispering to him up out of the grass, the stones, the ground itself. It was greater than it had been, vaster and more complex, and it seemed to expand every second, threatening to burst his mind should he dwell upon it too much. But still it was a mystery. He hoped that he would understand very soon.
He had lied to Trey, and he wished he could lie to himself as well. He wished he could believe that he and his small band of protectors controlled their own destiny, making decisions and planning their own path, instead of letting this mindless, unfathomable power give its own direction, aiding them at moments not of his choosing, turning him into nothing more than a horse to be steered and coerced the way its master desired. He had thought to wake and cure Alishia, but the magic told him no. He wanted to empower himself ready for a fight with the Monks, but the magic gave him nothing. He was controlled, totally and utterly, and whatever end was destined for him filled him with dread.
That was why he had lied to Trey and the others. He could keep the feeble truth from them, at least.
“MONK!” A’MEER HISSED.
Kosar dropped to his knees beside the Shantasi, turned, raised his hand. The others stopped, the two horses snorting and stamping hooves as they sensed sudden fear in the humans.
“Where?”
“There.” A’Meer pointed straight ahead at a darker shape in the shadow of a tall tree.