But you chose this course, he reminded himself.
“Master Uldyssian! Master Uldyssian!”
Uldyssian gratefully looked to Romus, any interruption welcome. The former criminal pointed behind himself, where two other Parthans were dragging a limp form toward the rest.
A third Peace Warder. Only now did Uldyssian think of the fact that the first attack had come from farther back.
“We found him just within the jungle,” explained Romus, rubbing his bald pate.
As the other Parthans dropped the body, the cause of death became very evident. Someone had expertly cut down the assassin with an arrow to the base of the neck, apparently relying on honed talents rather than still questionable powers.
It was yet another death, but one that could not have been avoided. The Peace Warder had brought it on himself. “Good work, Romus.”
“Wasn’t my doin’, Master Uldyssian.”
The other two also shook their heads. Uldyssian digested this for a moment. “Then who?”
But no one took credit.
Frowning, Uldyssian knelt by the body. The shot had been an excellent one, as he had earlier noted, the work of a obviously skilled archer. A slight shift in direction and either the shot would have missed or the armor would have deflected it.
There was a dark substance on the shaft. Uldyssian rubbed some of it off. His brow furrowed in perplexity.
It was moist dirt…moist dirt covering most of the arrow, as if someone had once buried the bolt.
5
He was cold. Even in the steaming jungle, he was cold. In fact, he was never warm anymore except when near them…or perhaps her. Yes, he thought it was likely her. Who else could it be?
It had been a risk, taking such action, but the Peace Warder might have otherwise escaped. Whether that counted for something, his dulled mind could not say, but he had decided it was best not to take a chance. An arrow through the neck had done the trick.
But now he had to move away as quickly as possible from the others. He dared not be seen. They would identify him as a threat…and he was not so certain that they were wrong.
The bow slung over his shoulder, the figure pushed through the thick plant life. Now and then, when he was forced to lean against a trunk, he left in his wake fragmented handprints of dirt. Soft, moist dirt. It seemed no matter how much he tried to wipe his hands clean, there was always more.
He suddenly tensed, aware that he was no longer alone. Something large but lithe slipped through the jungle, aware of his own movement even though he had thought his steps silent. One hand slowly went for the bow—
A savage, feline countenance with two long saber teeth thrust through the brush ahead. The jungle cat snarled.
But just as quickly, the snarl turned into a hiss. The beast recoiled.
He lowered his hand. He should have known that there would be no danger. Like all animals, the cat could sense the wrongness of him.
As much out of disgust for himself as it was impatience to end this little farce, he took a step toward the great feline. The cat immediately retreated an equal distance, spitting as it moved.
“I have no…time…for you…” It was the first words he had spoken in days and the croaking sound of it repelled him as much as it seemed to the animal. Without any more pretense, the massive cat spun around and fled, his tail between his legs.
The bowman stood there for a moment longer, drinking in the creature’s reaction. It only verified his own thoughts of what would have happened if anyone had seen him.
But he had to stay near. Not only because he wanted to, but because something compelled him. Even now, the urge to turn about grew stronger. It would not be too much more before he would have to turn back. He could even count the number of steps left, but still he knew that he would try his best to add just one. An innate stubbornness demanded that much independence of him.
The cat was long gone. Shoving aside a broad leaf the size of his head, he moved on.
Behind him, on the leaf, he left yet another dirty print. It took well into the morning to deal with all the new converts, but despite his promise, Uldyssian refused to leave until everyone understood just what it was he had awakened in them. That did not mean that they would be able to wield any power, but at least there was a chance that it might somehow serve them should danger rear its head…which he felt it would soon enough. Fortunately, other followers, especially the Parthans—who had been able to practice longer—would be constantly trying to encourage their Torajian brethren.
“Nephalem” had been Lilith’s word for what they were becoming, but that word not only left a bitter taste in Uldyssian’s mouth, but also did not fit right…at least where he was concerned. From the Torajians, he had come across another title, an ancient one that even sounded a little like the first.
“Edyrem.” It meant “those who have seen” and to Uldyssian that was a perfect description of him and the rest. He had already used it this very morning and seen how easily it slipped off the tongue. Already, many were using the term rather than the old one…
They left the vicinity of the city the moment he was done. Despite the sun being high in the sky, it seemed almost like dusk. The foliage was so thick that the light came for the most part in minute shafts. That was not entirely undesirable, for the jungle already sweltered. The Torajians did not mind it so much, but most of the Ascenians—Uldyssian included—were already covered in sweat.
The one obvious exception was Mendeln, naturally. He trudged through the jungle as if more comfortable in it than even the locals. With his dark garments, Uldyssian’s brother should have been dying under the sweltering heat, but not one drop of moisture had so far formed on Mendeln’s calm countenance.
Uldyssian’s gaze shifted to Serenthia. She, like him, showed signs of the heat, albeit not quite so severely. He looked at her closely, seeing for the first time how beautiful she was as a woman, not simply a friend he had always thought of like a sister. How he envied now Achilios’s place in her heart, a place he had once held, but had squandered. Any thought of making an advance toward Serenthia Uldyssian quickly crushed; he still felt directly responsible for the archer’s terrible demise.
Serenthia paused to drink from her water sack, but as she lifted the opening to her lips, her grip slipped. The sack fell, its contents spilling all over the ground.
He reached for his own. “You can drink some of this.”
Retrieving the sack, Serenthia shook her head. “Save yours. We passed a stream just a few yards back…and besides, this’ll give me a chance to deal with some private matters.”
“Someone should go with—”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I’ll be fine. You’ll probably be able to see the top of my head most of the time.”
That still did not satisfy Uldyssian, but he knew better than to argue with her. Signaling the others to keep moving, he stood firm where he was. “I’ll be right here. I won’t go anywhere.”
Again, Cyrus’s daughter smiled. Uldyssian found he liked when she smiled at him.
Serenthia rushed off. A few of the others wanted to stay with Uldyssian, but he politely refused their company. Despite the shifting greenery and the shadows caused by the thick foliage, Uldyssian did the best he could to keep some part of her in sight at all times. As she had said, the stream was right beside them; in fact, others had used it before Serenthia. There was really no reason to be concerned…
But then, that was not the first time that he had thought that…and been proven horribly wrong.
Serenthia bent down, for the first time vanishing from his field of vision. Uldyssian held his breath…then exhaled as she rose again.