Hunted (Book 3) (30 page)

As soon as the gateway solidified, a horrifying, discordant chorus of suffering filled the room at a suffocating volume. Opening his eyes, Gen watched as the vision in the Portal swirled and spun about a wasted, benighted landscape. Sooty smoke and orange sparks obscured the denizens of that world.

In the obscurity walked the dead, but not alone. Billowing, shifting shadows with red eyes stalked the pale, ghostly bodies of dead spirits they tormented.  Without warning, their ethereal vapors would encase their victims, red eyes replacing the sufferer’s in their sockets while the smoky shape coalesced around them. Howls of pain and fright ripped from raw throats, the dark beings swelling in size until the sufferer was released to collapse upon a floor of sharp volcanic rock. Red eyes would return into the swirling form of a shadow as it hunted another prey, leaving the sufferer’s eyes all the more sunken and hollow.

Gen shuddered, wondering how much of that world he would be forced to witness, but at last the Portal settled on Chertanne, weak and crawling on the floor, a nightmare apparition hovering above him, waiting. As the Portal settled, the red eyes turned upward and regarded Gen.

“What are your sins?” it rasped. A tendril of dark mist passed through the Portal toward Gen’s face, but before it touched him, it withdrew. It said, “Rejoice. For you shall never know the torture of the Abyss. Weep, for you shall never know the joy of Erelinda. There is no traveler within your shell to take the journey.”

Gen’s heart sank. Here at last was confirmed what he had long suspected. The Ilch was no more than a construct, a
thing
with no soul of its own, created to live, to die, and to know no more.

“I shall feed on this one then, for he has much to answer for,” the creature swooped in to envelop the struggling Chertanne. Gen acted, pulling power from the blood and creating the binding link between body and soul that Jaron had severed. Chertanne’s spirit broke through the swirling dark of the apparition’s body.

“You cannot rob me!” it howled. “I must feed!”

Gen shuddered and shut the Portal, Chertanne coughing and sputtering inside the cauldron. The blood remained, and not all of its power was exhausted. Tentatively, Chertanne’s red-soaked head peeked above the rim of the cauldron, bright eyes wide with fear. Upon seeing Gen, he shrieked.

“I knew you would join me here! Even in the Abyss you must torment me!”

He shrank back into the vat, sloshing about and mumbling incoherently. Shuffling sounds outside reminded Gen that Athan would cast a stupor upon him, and with a quick spell, he covered the grate in the door in metal. The Padras would get him sooner or later, but he had to speak to the Chalaine one last time. He could sense her just a little behind and down from where he stood. With a thought, stone evaporated into air, and he saw her, an Eldephaere guard nearby ready to raise an alarm. Using the remaining power of Trys, Gen walled off the stairway from the upper landing and encased the guard in a hollow prison of rock.

Darkness overtook them as the new wall blocked out the massed lamps above, but a guttering torch farther down the stairs provided enough light for him to feel his way forward and into the Chalaine’s fervent embrace. Tears flowed silently in the dank prison, and for a moment his hurts and his cares abated.

“Forgive me, Chalaine. I have made a mess of everything.”

“Quietly now, Gen,” she consoled, burying her head in his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. It never was your fault. Is he alive?”

“Chertanne? Yes. I only did it because you wished it.”

“It was the right thing to do, but you must leave here,” she begged

“I haven’t the strength to tunnel out of here with magic. It is you who should leave after all the pain they’ve caused.”

The Chalaine pulled away from him and took his hand, pulling him down the stairs. “It was all a fraud to pull you here, Gen,” she explained. “I never felt any hurt and was in no danger. I was only bait. You must believe I would never have willingly submitted. They gave me no choice.”

“I know. They should still pay for using you so.”

“That is of no consequence now, Gen.”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To see my mother . . . I hope.”

“They have her locked up down
here
?” Gen thundered.

“Quietly, Gen! We have to hurry. The Padras will be here any moment.”

But as they rounded a corner they found three Eldephaere waiting in a dingy, straw-covered anteroom with swords drawn. Of all Mikkik’s restored teachings, Gen still found the ease with which Trysmagic could kill living creatures the most sinister. With barely a thought and hardly any power, the three soldiers crumpled to the floor, dead in an instant. Quickly, Gen gathered the key from one of the bodies and inserted it into the heavy iron door.

“Grab the lantern, Chalaine.”

Hinges whined and screeched as the door to the lower dungeon scraped open. The howls and pitiful pleas for food or freedom from half naked and half sane denizens immersed them in a scene little better than what Gen had witnessed in the Abyss. Emaciated, pale limbs with knobby fingers and ridged, dirty nails clutched at them through iron bars, and the stench of their bodies and breath set the Chalaine’s stomach to churning.

“Mother!” the Chalaine called queasily.

“In the back, dear child. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve brought Gen! It’s time.”

“You work quickly, dearest.”

They found them at the rear of the dungeon. Unlike the freestanding cells at the entrance, these were hollowed into the rock and sealed with heavy wooden doors. Mirelle guided them in by yelling through the bars in the doors. Gen made quick work with the key, familiar faces spilling out of dark holes and into the warmth of the lantern light. Dason knelt before the Chalaine, kissing her hand, a litany of warm sentiments gushing from a full heart. Mirelle fairly leapt into Gen’s arms, smiles popping up on worn faces at the spectacle.

“Thank you Eldaloth,” she whispered as they embraced, “for bringing him back to me.” Wiping her eyes, she disentangled herself from Gen and turned her gaze upon the Portal Mage. “Udan, it’s your turn. Where is this Portal?”

“This way.” He nodded. “Follow me.”

Gen moved away from the company. “I’ll bar the door and grab the Eldephaeres’ swords. I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’ll help,” Tolbrook offered, following.

After relocking the door and piling as much as they could in front of it, Gen and Tolbrook undid the sword belts and ran back to the company that stood in front of an empty cell. Udan turned. “It is in here. One moment.”

“Do you know where the Portal goes, Udan?” Mirelle inquired.

“No. This Portal was never discovered. We’ll want to send someone through for a look.”

“I will do it,” Gen volunteered from the back. “I’ll be going through whatever the place may be like.”

Udan nodded in acknowledgment and concentrated, a brilliant blue light blazing in the darkness. The illumination’s significance was not lost on the other prisoners, renewed pleas for freedom clamoring for their consideration. Gen wasted no time, crossing into the Portal and returning, face grim.

“I’m afraid it isn’t pleasant,” he reported. “It is a desert of black sand and vapors of smoke. I saw few plants and no water. I must take the chance. The rest can choose.”

“I go with Gen,” Mirelle announced firmly.

“As do I,” Gerand and Volney followed.

“I go where Mirelle goes,” Cadaen added.

“I will go with Mirelle,” Mena said meekly.

“Are you staying behind, Chalaine?” Mirelle asked.

“I must, for the prophecy’s sake.”

“No!” Dason said. “You should flee! Anywhere is better than this place.”

“Not for me, Dason. They have treated me well, and I need to be with Chertanne. I must stay.”

“Then I stay, as well,” Dason said, throwing Gen a challenging look. “
I
will not leave you.” Captain Tolbrook and the rest of the Dark Guard echoed the same sentiment.

Mirelle crossed to her daughter and embraced her. “It is settled, then. May Eldaloth see us together again in brighter places and happier times.”

The Chalaine crossed to Gen and let him enfold her in his arms. She kissed his cheek and whispered, “I love you more than you can know. Take care of yourself and my mother.”

“I will.”

Shouting and clanging at the prison door reminded them to hurry, and the Chalaine smiled as the people she had fretted over for so long disappeared from the dungeon. Udan crossed through his own Portal, and the blue light winked out.

When the Chalaine emerged from the dungeon, she would again find herself the wife of a wretch, but no longer would she worry for those she loved best. Eldaloth had heard her prayer and provided an escape, and she found this merciful gift had propped up her flagging faith. Surrounded by the Dark Guard, she walked calmly back to the prison door, arriving just as Athan stormed through, soldiers and Padras streaming in behind.

“Where is he?” he thundered, eyes darting everywhere.

To spare his feelings, the Chalaine stripped her voice of as much joy as she could before answering.

“Gone.”

Mirelle, Cadaen, Mena, Gen, Udan, Volney
,
and Gerand stood on a sea of black sand. Sulfurous vapors wafted by on the wind, puckering faces. A constant layer of lo
w-
flying clouds sped by above, the light dim anduneven, the sun thrusting through at unpredictable intervals and disappearing just as unexpectedly. Small, leathery plants poked up from the sand, providing the only vegetation for a wasted terrain. Shar
p,
porous rocks rose up in crumbling heaps in every direction, and no vista provided a fairer prospect than another. Despite the season, the air was stifling, dry, and hot, and the combination of the sickening smell and the heat engendered a general malaise in every mind and stomach.

Volney exhaled sharply after a period of aimless and disappointed wandering around. “Eldaloth obviously hid the Portal to this place out of mercy for his creatures. Leave it to our luck to escape to a place
less
desirable than a dungeon. First a wagon, then a sewer, then a dungeon, and now a desert, and not just any desert, a rotten, foul, reeking, stink-hole of a desert! And if we escape this place, no doubt we’ll find ourselves on the Uyumaak latrine shard and forced to wipe their scaly. . .”

“Believe it or not,” Udan cut in loudly in an attempt to head Volney off, “there are shards worse than this one. Gen knows about one of them. It’s so cold your face falls right off after a few moments.”

“You know,” Volney ranted, “I’ll never understand why it is that other people try to make you feel at peace with your situation by telling you there’s a worse one. Is that supposed to make me feel better? It’s like stabbing me in the leg, twisting the blade around, and then telling me I should be grateful it’s not in my eye! For Erelinda’s sake, can someone conjure me up a warm bed and a decent meal? It’s been so long!”

Gerand crossed to his friend and put his arm around his shoulders. “We all feel the same, Volney. Udan was merely pointing out that we at least have a chance to survive here. Have faith, friend. Better sand than snow.”

“I am sorry,” Gen apologized to everyone after letting the red fade from Volney’s cheeks. “I wish there had been time to prepare or some other path we could have followed.”

Mirelle latched onto his arm as if preparing for a summer stroll in a pleasant garden. “We all had the choice, Gen. You didn’t force anyone here. What do we do now?”

“Shelter first, then I’ll scout around for signs of food or water. We need to find protection from the sun and the wind. These pitted black rocks should hold a myriad of caves we can avail ourselves of if we can find an outcropping big enough. We’ll go slowly. Try not to exert yourselves overmuch.”

For the next two hours they wandered about in the dreary wasteland. Seething pools of boiling mud radiated a foul smell, and they steered clear of them when they could. The pools increased in size and frequency the further they pressed on, and Gen finally called for them to reverse course, Volney murmuring under his breath.

The rest bore up well, but as darkness started to fall without their finding any outcropping of significant size, they had to settle for the lee side of a rounded hump of a boulder that had a smoother, solider aspect than the jagged black ones they had searched during the day. Wind had scooped out a small bowl around it, and they descended the slight incline and sat heavily against the stone in complete exhaustion, all except Mena, who knelt by Gerand.

“Is there any comfort I can give you, Milord?” Mena offered. Gerand’s face contorted in surprise.

“What?”

“I could rub your shoulders or your feet, or you could lay your head on my lap for comfort while you rest. I could sing you something to take your mind off of a difficult day.”

“No,” Gerand declined, fumbling to sort his thoughts and feelings out. “No. I mean, thank you, but no.”

“I’ll take any of those, Mena,” Udan said hopefully. “My feet are killing me.”

Volney laughed. “That won’t do, Udan. She is his wife.”

“You two are married?” Udan asked incredulously. “Since when? Torbrand let you marry his daughter? How in all of Ki’Hal did you manage. . .”

“Shhhh,” Volney warned him. “We don’t talk about it.”

“No, really, I must hear the. . .” Gen’s shook his head, and Udan let the subject drop.

Mena, disappointed, rose to go.

“I apologize,” Gerand blurted out quickly, “if I’ve offended you, Mena. I don’t wish you to think that anything you have to offer me is somehow undesirable. Rather, that in circumstances such as these it would be ungentlemanly of me to accept comfort when it should be my place to provide it. If there is something I can do for you to ease your burden, then name it.”

She returned to his side. “Then let me serve you. Please. Let me stand by your side. I know my father bequeathing me to you was a deep insult to your honor and to your nation. I can’t imagine how much I must disgust you or what loves or friends you lost when I was thrust upon you. I cannot undo what it is done, but at least give me the chance to show you my worth. I will not hope that you can love me as I do you, but if anything I can do will blunt the bitterness in your eyes every time you look at me, let me perform it.”

Awkwardness pervaded the party as they witnessed this private moment, Mena’s heartfelt intensity momentarily distracting them from hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Gerand, stunned to silence by this sudden vehemence, regarded his estranged bride and took her hand tenderly, signaling for her to sit by her side.

“Mena, what was done to us was wrong. . .”

“I know, but. . .”

“Listen for a moment. I will not use you or have you serve me like a slave.”

“I don’t want to be your slave!”

“Please, let me finish. I cannot love or even like someone I do not know, and I cannot trust your regard for me until I am sure you know me, and not just some ideal you may have conjured up of Tolnorian nobility. I have faults enough to sour any good woman’s opinion. The best I can offer you—and all I can accept from you now—is your company and your conversation. Let us plant that seed and see what grows.”

“Bloody well said!” Udan interjected inappropriately. “Though you’re a fool to turn down the foot rub.”

Gerand shot an angry look at Udan before turning back to Mena, who smiled gratefully at her husband. “Thank you for your concession. I will make the most of it.”

She put her hand on Gerand’s bearded cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips before settling in next to him. Gerand’s face couldn’t quite settle on an emotion, though he offered no protest at Mena having taken a little more liberty than they had agreed upon.

“Can I speak with you privately for a moment, Gen?” Mirelle requested.

“Certainly.”

The others watched as the two disappeared around the rock and walked out into a stiff wind, Gen reflexively assuring Cadaen that he would keep Mirelle safe. The clouds had cleared up, allowing a chill to goosebump Mirelle’s arms. The shards intermixed with the stars, coalescing into even bands, evidencing their gradual journey toward the day of Unification. Trys now waxed half full. Mirelle led Gen toward a smaller boulder nearby before addressing him in low tones.

“Did Athan’s plan work? Is Chertanne alive?”

“He is. I did it myself.”

Mirelle shook her head in acceptance and paced in a slow turn, thinking. “I had no qualms with Chertanne dead, and I doubt you did either. While it complicated the prophecy, I was happy that the Chalaine was free.”

“The Chalaine made me swear to do it, or I would have declined.”

“No doubt Athan hung you over her head as leverage.”

It was Gen’s turn to pace, running his hands through his hair. “Nothing I have done since Elde Luri Mora has felt right. Now I’ve led everyone to this cursed place. We’ll die here if we don’t find water soon.”

“I’ve learned a bit about faith lately, Gen,” Mirelle said. “Maybe it’s time you rely on that. How are you going to explain to everyone that Chertanne is alive?”

“How can I without exposing myself?”

“You need only say that the Chalaine told you that the Church managed to resurrect him somehow. That is all that need be said. As for our escape, your fighting prowess will suffice as explanation.”

A shout from Cadaen sent the two sprinting back to the boulder where they found everyone standing and staring into the darkness. On a hill to the east, a single figure, shrouded and unknowable, stood perfectly still. Tendrils of thin fabric from its cloak whipped in the wind, the immobility of the apparition suggesting a statue beneath the clothing. Gen raised his arms in a placating gesture and took a step forward, but a sudden wind kicked up dust and sand, and when it had passed, the phantom had gone.

“Haunting,” Udan said.

“But it is a good sign for us,” Gen offered, voice hopeful. “Someone is on this shard and has survived here. I’m going to go look around.”

Gen searched for signs of civilization until midnight but found nothing promising. The next day bloomed as hot and miserable as the last. The farther they traveled east, the fewer outcroppings of stone they encountered. The dunes piled higher, and the black sand intermingled with a fine dust that clung to their teeth and lips and settled in their ears and boots. Near midafternoon, Mena abruptly stumbled and fell face first to the ground. Everyone gathered around the stricken woman quickly, Gerand pulling her over onto his lap and wiping her sweating face with the inside of his cloak.

“I’m glad she fell first,” Udan panted. “I won’t be far behind.”

Gen, sick with worry, turned toward them. “We shouldn’t travel during the day. After our encounter last night I had hoped we would find signs of civilization by now. Everyone stay here and rest. I’ll try to find somewhere for us to hole up.”

After an hour of searching, Gen found a dry river bed running north and south, providing some shade against the punitive sun. By the time he had collected everyone and marched them there, both Mirelle and Udan needed support, and Gerand sweated profusely as he practically carried Mena down the sharp incline and into the shade.

“Is anyone hiding any food?” Volney petitioned. “My cloak is starting to smell like roast pork for some reason.”

“I’m afraid the prison guards neglected to portion out enough porridge to us to stuff any in our pockets before we left,” Udan answered. “Remember? You were there.”

Volney beat the back of his head against the rock before resting the front on his knees and dozing off in the sweltering heat. The rest of the party followed suit save Gen, who regarded them with sadness. He couldn’t let it end this way if he could help it. While he couldn’t conjure up food without suspicion, water, he thought, he could manage.

As evening came on, he left the others behind and scouted out a small cave worn out of the side of the riverbed wall. It was dark, low, and dusty and he hoped that no one in the party had enough lore to tell that water had not graced the small chamber in decades. He rested for a moment in the cooling air, for despite his conditioning, the exertion and worry wore upon him more than he let on.

At last, he straightened and knelt, placing his hands on the spot. Digging deep, he pulled in every ounce of power he could and willed the rock to transform into water. As he finished, his head spun with weakness and his limbs refused his command. He toppled over into the pool that he had created, helplessly bobbing facedown on the surface. His exhausted mind screamed danger, but nothing could motivate his muscles to move. Dimly, he enjoyed the cool caress of the water and its feel upon his sunburned face. The woozy calm of fading consciousness and undulating caress of the water felt more like home than any place had for months.