He gestured to Gile. "I am not familiar with this man. He was admitted through the gates, so I invited him to sit with me."
Alaric never took his eyes from Gile. "I was informed a wanderer found his way here. A bold man to survive the Barrens alone. The golem is just one of the tools we use to protect our location. If someone gets so far, we feel it's best to examine him further. Rest assured, he will be questioned in great detail."
Gile practically itched from the eyes that stared at him. To the Sects he was a curiosity, a scruffy animal that wandered into their home. But Alaric was much worst. His gaze practically burned into Gile's skull. Masiki had not warned of how powerful the Pale Lord was. Gile shuddered when Alaric finally turned his eyes away, addressing Orabon again.
"Since he is with you then he shall bear witness to this event. But let his witness be silent, for I will not tolerate his discourse at an event he was not invited to."
Orabon nodded and gave Gile a warning glance.
Gile ground his teeth. How in Narak's hells will I be able to say anything now?
He had not expected the ceremony, the almost overwhelming majesty of the Co'nane. It hung in the air, pressed down on Gile's shoulders, and demanded subservience. He was almost dizzy from the sheer weight of it.
His task had become much more difficult.
Chapter 30: Rhanu
Despite the heavy fur-trimmed cloak that enveloped him, Rhanu still shivered. He had marveled at the snow the first time he saw it. In Hikuptah, snow was just a story told by traveling merchants. His homeland lay across the Sea of Sand, growing like lichen alongside the Eline River. Rhanu was familiar with the merciless sun, sweeping sandstorms, and a towering empire built on ruthlessness and the backs of slaves. It was another world compared to the land of green forests and lush grasslands that was Leodia. Rain was more valuable than gold in Hikuptah, and wars were fought over water barely deep enough to wade in. The thought of frozen water falling from the sky was a thing of wonder.
That wonder had long passed. He was freezing and miserable. Winter was beyond anything he could have imagined. The wind dumped gusts of snow and created deep drifts that made progress mind-numbingly slow. His nose leaked like an old waterskin, and the scarf wrapped around his face was uncomfortably damp from breathing through it.
He could not think of when he had been so wretched.
Yet even in the midst of such misery, he was still haunted by the encounter two nights past when they had flushed out a pair of odji in one of the towns they'd passed through. In Leodia they were called akhkharu, but the soul-sucking beings were one and the same. He and his Huntsmen almost had the odji pinned when the cursed pair managed to escape. Rhanu and his band had hotly pursued them until they reached the edge of the forest. That was when they heard a sound to curdle the blood…
A SCREAM LIKE A BANSHEE being boiled alive caused the horses of the odji to rear fearfully. The forest mists became frantic spirits that fled as a dark rider emerged on the most fearsome horse Rhanu had ever seen, more monster than steed. The sound of its breathing was a saw dragged across gravel, and its silver-shod hooves rang with every step.
The rider was decked out in black spike-studded armor and sackcloth, and a massive horned helm covered its face. Reddish lights flickered from behind the narrow slit in its visor. Its ragged cape billowed in the wind, flailing like raven wings when it turned its burning gaze to the two odji.
The gargantuan steed reared with another soul-cringing scream. Bluish flame flared from her nostrils and enveloped one of the odji, creating a shrieking, gibbering figure of fire. He dropped and rolled across the ground, but the flames sizzled and devoured him as though he was the thinnest, driest paper. In the bat of an eye only smoldering ashes remained.
The remaining odji tried desperately to get his horse to cease its wild rearing. He screamed as the rider wheeled around and unsheathed a blade so black that the night brightened in its presence. In mid-scream the odji's head hit the ground and rolled near Rhanu, staring with shocked eyes. Head and body erupted in eerie, blue-tinged flames.
It was over in seconds. Ignoring the Huntsmen, the dark rider turned his monstrous steed toward the forest.
"Wait." Rhanu shook off his shocked trance and edged his fearful horse as near as it would go. "Who are you?"
The rider paused. Impossible as it seemed, Rhanu thought he saw a flicker of recognition in the phantom's burning gaze. But without a word it tapped the reins. With a ground-trembling neigh, the bestial horse shot forward. The darkness of the forest quickly swallowed them.
Meshella turned to Rhanu, her normally unshakable calm replaced by wide-eyed shock. "Did you…did you see?"
Rhanu couldn't tear his gaze from the tangled forest. "I saw. But I am still not sure if I believe it."
RHANU COULD NOT FIGURE it out. If ever a being was to be named evil, that rider was. But it slew the odji and ignored the Huntsmen. Rhanu was accustomed to witnessing strange things, but they had grown stranger since the encounter at the Palace where the Huntsmen met Marcellus Admorran, who had disappeared without a trace at his manor. There was not a single footprint to mark his passing, no signs to track where he went. If they had not seen the patch of melted snow in the garden, they would not have known that anything unnatural had occurred.
Nyori had been found dazed and almost unconscious from shock, but the Shama had remained closemouthed about what she had seen even after her recovery. A mystery. They left the manor with many unanswered questions, escorting Nyori to her mysterious homeland along with Dradyn, Marcellus' servant companion. Both she and Dradyn had ridden in glum silence since their departure.
None of that explained the dark rider. Rhanu mulled over that night time and again, but it was like the ring puzzles the Rhoma demonstrated at their shows. No matter how he worked at it, he still couldn't solve the riddle. The trying was enough to make his head ache.
He raised his head as Han approached. They had not run across any real threats, but Han was armed with a short sword on his side and the longer one he wore on his back. That one he had never drawn in Rhanu's presence, but he handled it with great ceremony. Rhanu had learned the sword had belonged to Han's father. Han was especially sensitive about the subject, so Rhanu did not press the issue.
Han had purchased a pair of snowshoes at the last outpost, which allowed him to negotiate the snow without sinking. He had some experience with snow. His country was not unfamiliar to flurries, at least in the mountains.
Like Rhanu, Han was a foreigner. He hailed from Honguo, a country whose very name conjured up tales of mystery and danger. Both Hikuptah and Honguo were so far away that most men in Leodia had never seen them. Some had never even heard of them.
That was not the only thing the two men had in common. Both had their lives forever changed by the cursed odji, or kuang-shi, as Han called them. Every land and culture seemed to have a different name for the same race of beings. He and Han had united like brothers despite their age difference over their shared hatred of the creatures. Han seemed to have discarded his rage, hiding his feelings behind an attitude of indifference. Rhanu knew better.
"We have company." Han's soft-spoken accent was deceptive, creating an image of a persona far meeker than the brash, outspoken youth he was.
Rhanu's hand strayed to the wakiza strapped to his saddle. Formerly familiar with the shorter, sickle-shaped khopesh blade he used as a soldier, he had taken up training from Han to become proficient at using the longer sword. It quickly became his trademark weapon.