“We are precisely where you asked that we should be,” the dwarf said brightly. “We are beyond the northern border of the cursed Hyperian Woodland and now stand on the verge of Vestasia itself! We have traveled just short of eighty leagues and seemingly overnight.”
“That far?” Drakis asked. “How is that possible?”
The dwarf looked up from the campfire and smiled. “My good Drakis, it is a miracle-nothing short of a miracle of the gods-that we have been brought here. Carried by the demons of Queen Murialis for reasons of her own and deposited as you yourself requested here across the northern boundaries of her most terrible and feared kingdom! I had hoped to skirt the western slopes of the Aerian Range and avoid any danger that her minions might present, and yet here we are and a week’s journey the richer for it! And fortunate-fortunate indeed-for all our possessions remain with us with not a piece of lint nor thread subtracted from the lot as one might expect from the faery folk! A week’s worth of travel in a single day-thanks to the capricious whim of the Faery Queen.”
“Hardly capricious,” Ethis added, his eyes fixed on Drakis. “Drakis negotiated our passage for us. It seems Murialis is a reasonable monarch after all.”
The human warrior eyed Ethis critically for a moment but decided not to let the comment escalate into an argument. Drakis had done nothing that brought them through the strange woods of Murialis except to let the Faery Queen believe that he might be this mythical fulfillment of some ancient prophecy that everyone seemed to know about except him. Ethis had been the one who had saved them, bringing them into the faery realm and insuring that they weren’t summarily killed. If Ethis had his reasons for letting the rest of the group think that Drakis had been the big hero, then an argument over who had actually saved them would have been foolish.
They were in enough trouble without fighting among themselves over anything; so Drakis turned his mind to other things.
Vestasia, Drakis thought. It felt different from the Hyperian Plain that they had crossed with such trepidation just the week before; though it had been deserted, Drakis felt it was a land where civilization had once flourished and could return again to tame the broad plain and cultivate its expanse. The overwhelming impression that the warrior had of the grass-and-rock choked flatlands before him was that it was entirely wild, forbidding and savage. It was a badlands with its own natural law that defied anyone from the outside who wished to impose any rule other than that of unstoppable, deadly nature.
“Beautiful, is it not?”
Drakis turned toward the deep voice. “You think it beautiful?”
Belag seemed to stand taller than ever. His great, flat snout was raised as though sniffing the wind for the scent of prey. RuuKag stood behind him but presented a completely different demeanor; his shoulders were hunched forward, lowering his head with the curve of his back as he looked over the plain.
“Yes, beautiful,” Belag said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and baring his fangs as he spoke. “This place is known among my race as the ‘Land of the Shamed.’ It is the place where cowards come to die in exile from their clans. It is supposed to be a cursed place. .”
“It is a cursed place,” RuuKag said abruptly.
“Cursed? How is it cursed?”
“It does not matter. You are with us, Drakis,” Belag continued. “It is sung of in the prophecy that where you walk, the cursed lands shall be made whole beneath your feet.”
“You seem terribly pleased at the prospect of crossing this cursed place,” Ethis observed.
“I find the open land calls me,” Belag said drawing in a deep breath. “It brings into my mind the great plains of Chaenandria where my father and his father’s fathers hunted our prey and fought our battles down through all our songs of glory. RuuKag and I can run in the open. .”
“I have no desire to run,” RuuKag grumbled.
“Then I shall feel the wind pass through the hairs that are springing from my mane and the sun beat upon my back. The open sky shall be my temple and all the wild beasts shall flee from me in fear. I shall pit my speed and strength against them and bring them down in righteous sacrifice in your name. I shall hunt for you, Drakis, and for all of us. I shall taste the warm blood of my prey in my mouth once more as the star-gods intended from the beginning.”
Drakis turned to Ethis. “What about you. . I can assume you’ve been here before.”
“Here, yes,” Ethis said then nodded toward the great plain to the north. “But there? No. That is a land that cannot be tamed, a land too wild and harsh even for the determined and cunning elves of Rhonas. The Empire has extended its influence farther to the north and east, but into this place they rarely bother to venture except on occasional slaving expeditions on the southern shores of the Bay of Thetis. .”
Drakis was having trouble hearing what Ethis was saying. He had to remind himself that he could not trust the chimerian, a creature that a small part of his mind still told him was a trusted colleague and brother in arms but only, he reminded himself, because the Devotions had made him believe it. Drakis had no memory of Ethis before the battle for the Ninth Throne, and his actions since the fall of their Devotions-his alarming transformations in the faery kingdom and his use of them to trick Drakis into revealing so much of himself-had left the human hurt and suspicious.
Beyond his distrust, the song was running through his mind, and it distracted him once more. It was never far from his thoughts and was growing stronger with every step they took toward the north. In some ways, this was a comfort to him; before it had been a weak annoyance, like an itch that one could not quite reach. With its increasing prominence he was better able to tune it out and even ignore it from time to time. But occasionally it dislodged memories that rushed to the surface of his thoughts and broke upon his consciousness.
“Well that’s not what Mom says,” Polis answered back, sweat pouring from his forehead. “It’s north-in Vestasia maybe-beyond a sea of water and even a sea of sand. That’s where we’re going, Drak. . you and me together. No one will ever make us work again. You wait and see.”
Drakis forced his attention back to Ethis as he spoke.
“. . no real knowledge of the nomadic tribes that manage to make their home here,” Ethis concluded. “I took a very long road to avoid crossing that dangerous wasteland-no one enters the savanna of Vestasia lightly.”
“All the more reason we should,” Drakis answered. “What better place to hide than a place no one wishes to enter?”
Ethis raised both his hairless brows in surprise.
“It’s north-in Vestasia,” Drakis said with a thin smile. “You wait and see.”
They walked for five days across the plain without feeling they were making any progress. Ethis insisted that they pick a point in the distance in the morning that appeared to be north and then keep their track fixed on that destination. This almost always amounted to finding a distant grouping of trees that could be spied across the seemingly endless grasses.
The terrain was far from entirely flat; undulations and occasional rock outcroppings gave some variety to what otherwise would have been a near tabletop flatness to the land. The grasses were yellowing and the ground beneath them parched. Their footfalls raised great clouds of gray dust that drifted upward, which greatly concerned Ethis as their movements could undoubtedly be seen for many leagues in any direction.
Mornings were the time that Drakis liked best, for each of them worked in harmony toward their common good. Belag, who had disappeared the previous night, would return exhausted in the morning-but always with a fresh kill. RuuKag would quarter the creature and properly butcher its meat so that it could be cooked. Jugar would busy himself finding or making a properly clear space while Ethis constructed a fire pit. Mala and Drakis would cook the meat for them, while the Lyric always seemed to appear with wild roots or berries though none of them could determine just how or where she came by them. Then, their meal concluded and the remaining cooked meats packed for use later in the day, everyone would see to cleaning up the camp before setting off.