Seeing its companion felled so quickly, the second fiend checked its headlong charge and approached more warily, careful to avoid getting between Janik and Dania. Auftane reached them at the same time as the zakya, swinging his mace into its hips as it focused on Dania, hacking with its sword and slashing with its shield. Roaring in fury, the creature turned its full attention to Auftane, pushing him backward—but leaving its own back exposed to Janik’s sword. Janik aimed his next blow carefully, finding his opportunity when the zakya overextended its arm to hack at the nimble dwarf. He slid his blade into a gap in the creature’s armor at its shoulder, and it stumbled, roared weakly, and collapsed.
“You said something about making this magic permanent?” Janik said to Auftane, admiring his sword once more.
Auftane laughed. “Time and money,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’re not likely to have the time or the right materials until we’re back in Stormreach.”
“Too bad,” Janik said. He wiped the blade on the fur of the second rakshasa, still crusted with frost, and slid it back into its sheath.
With the tower cleared of its guards, Janik led his friends out of the tower and into Menechtarun, the great golden desert. The dry scrub that had been growing more sparse since they left the riverbank disappeared completely. The dry earth became sun-blasted sand, and they found their footing much less stable. With each step, their feet sank and slid in the sand, slowing their progress to a crawl. The Fangs of Angarak rose up on their left, and Janik steered their course toward the more solid—and, he hoped, less arid—ground of the foothills.
They saw no more towers and no more zakyas. The sand crawled with snakes and scorpions—some of them almost as large as Auftane—but most of them slid or scuttled away as Janik drew near at the front of the group, and the more aggressive specimens were quickly dispatched. After fighting armor-clad demons, even a dwarf-sized snake did not seem threatening.
Each night, Mathas erected his magical hut, its walls seemingly formed of sand bricks. The quiet desert grew noisier at night as unseen creatures emerged from their hiding places to hunt in the cooler air and cover of darkness. Janik continued to sleep fitfully, spending hours lying in his bunk listening to the sounds outside and the slow breathing of his companions. He rarely rose to look out the door any more—partly because he doubted any serious threat, and partly because he didn’t want to risk another confrontation with Dania.
Mel-Aqat loomed larger in his mind with each passing day. They would reach the ruins in a matter of weeks. What would they find there? Had they indeed released or awakened some ancient fiend that had reestablished a kingdom of demons in the ruins and the surrounding desert? Would Krael be there, perhaps already engaged in the ritual that would shatter the spiritual bonds of the couatls and release the rakshasa rajah from the Place of Imprisonment? Was it possible that Krael had already succeeded?
And what about Maija? He did not expect to find her at Mel-Aqat, of course, but he held on to the possibility that he might find some clue there about what had happened to her.
Perhaps even a way to bring her back to him.
Passing days stretched into passing weeks, and then … they arrived. Just as the days seemed to blur, one into the next, in a haze of desert heat and endless sand, Mathas spotted giant stone blocks half-buried in the desert sand.
“Those are only the remnants of the city’s outer wall,” Janik said, “and they’re still miles away. We should make camp here, out of sight and out of reach, and plan to approach the ruins tomorrow.”
“If you’re serious about being out of sight, we should move farther away,” Dania said. “If we can see the walls, they’ve got some chance to see us—especially once Mathas has erected our campsite. And there are still a few hours of good light.”
“Agreed,” Janik said. “But Mathas, why don’t you send your eyes ahead and give us some idea what we can expect?”
“Of course. Should I do that now, or after we make camp?”
“Why not do it now?” Janik said. “The information might be useful in choosing where we camp.”
Mathas began the long chant that would let him extend his senses as far as the ruins, and Auftane dropped down on the sand, sitting awkwardly with his short legs spread in front of him. Dania crouched beside him, but Janik paced in the sand around them. After walking all day for six straight weeks, he had a hard time stopping while the sun was still in the sky—especially with their destination in sight.
As Mathas cast his spell, Janik kept gazing toward Mel-Aqat, half expecting some answer to all the questions that had haunted him for three years to rise up like a plume of smoke from the ruins. He stared until his eyes burned in the dry desert air, then turned abruptly, resuming his pacing for many moments before beginning to stare again. He was dimly aware of Dania and Auftane engaging in quiet conversation, and even half-heard his own name once or twice, but he could not tear his attention away from the ruins.
When Mathas began to speak, though, Janik turned at once and listened raptly.
“By the Host,” the elf croaked, “the city certainly has changed since we’ve been away.” Mathas stood entranced, eyes closed, leaning slightly toward the ruins.
“What?” Janik demanded, moving to stand right at Mathas’s shoulder. “What do you see?”
“First of all, they’ve been doing some building. It looks mostly like stacking blocks, with no mortar, but some of those blocks are quite large. They have erected some semblance of a wall around the city—as far as I can see, it follows the line of the original city wall.”
“By ‘they,’ I assume you mean the tiger-fiends,” Janik said.
“Yes, the rakshasas. Quite a number of them are posted along the wall. They’re the soldiers, the zakyas, like the ones we fought at the tower.”
“Quite a number?” Dania called, still crouching on the sand behind Mathas. “Can you be more specific?”
“They are in groups of two or three, spaced along the wall. But the groups are close enough to each other that it would be hard to fight them one group at a time—reinforcements would be quick to arrive.”
“Organized resistance,” Janik muttered. “That little fiend kingdom you suggested, Dania. I don’t like this.”
“Nor do I,” Dania said. “Mathas, what’s inside the wall? Have they rebuilt more of the city?”
“One moment. I need to send the eye over the wall.”
“Sort of makes you wish he could have sent the eye all the way here from Stormreach and saved us all the trouble, doesn’t it?” Auftane said. “We could be resting by a roaring fire in a fine restaurant somewhere while Mathas investigates the ruins with magic.”
“Believe me, my friend,” Mathas said, opening his eyes just long enough to glance back at the dwarf, “if such a thing were within my capabilities, I would have been the first to suggest it. I think I can rightly claim the distinction of despising travel more than any of you.”
“What’s that?” Auftane pointed up where a dark shape was silhouetted against the bright desert sky. Janik and Dania looked up, following the dwarf’s short finger.
“Is it a dragon or something?” Janik said. “Dania, I’m counting on your elf eyes.”
“That’s no dragon,” Dania said. “By the Flame, what is it doing here?”
“Is it some kind of winged snake?” Auftane said.
“You’re not far off, Auftane.” Dania’s voice was a whisper, and Mathas opened his eyes, distracted from his spell by her awed tone. “That’s a couatl.”
14
Mel-Aqat
The four companions stared into the air, watching the winged serpent snaking across the sky. Its wings shimmered with rainbow colors in the bright sunlight, and its movements were stunningly graceful, as if it were dancing. It drifted slowly over them, tracing a wide arc across the sky, centered above the ruined city. If it saw them, it showed no sign—it did not seem to linger above them or slow its progress as it passed over them. Janik watched it until it was a tiny speck and then vanished from his sight, then his gaze fell on Dania.