The Pleasure of Memory (30 page)

“Are you the tracker who found the Parhronii’s trail or not?”

She swallowed. Hard. She glanced over at her warriors who were all watching her closely. She knew every one of them was prepared to put their lives on the line and rush in to help her if the situation turned foul. The knowledge gave her strength. She returned her gaze fully into the demon’s. She would not show fear. “We work as a unit, Commander,” she said, “Every warrior contributes equally. Pride is an indulgence we do not tolerate.”

“I’ll ask you again, Saaro, though it’s not my taste to pander to subordinates. Are you the tracker who recovered the fugitive’s trail or no? I advise heartedly against forcing me to ask you again.”

She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword hanging at her waist and held onto it like a lifeline. “I recovered the tracks where the fugitives exited the stream,” she said plainly, “Any of these warriors would eventually have done the same. I was simply fortunate enough to find them first.”

The wyrlaerd’s gaze was becoming unbearable. She felt the cold fingers of its essence probing at the periphery of her thoughts. The sensation was intense and disagreeable, and her stomach began to sour for it. Still, she steadied herself against it. She would not submit to weakness of the flesh or to this monster’s intrusion, not before her warriors.

The ethereal fingers withdrew as quickly as they had appeared, leaving no residue of discomfort behind. As she dragged her arm over her mouth, she wondered if the bastard found what it was looking for.

“Undue modesty is as miserable a trait as arrogance, Saaro,” the wyrlaerd said, “Though I commend your skills and perseverance.” Then it looked down at Fen’lar, and added, “Especially in view of your obvious disadvantages.”

“Our only disadvantage was the limitation of time, Commander,” she said, trying to pull its attention away from Fen’lar.

The malicious yellow eyes drifted her way on cue. “You’re capable and strong willed,” it said, “I’m in need of such officers given the obstacles facing us.”

Fen’lar attempted to stand while cradling his broken hand. He made it to one knee, but then tottered and fell back into the ground again with a childish whimper. As Koonta watched him shaming them in the dirt, she realized she could more easily disguise her contempt for the demon than she could her embarrassment of her kadeer. It was an act demanding contrition, and she would need to meditate on it and serve penance later.

“Perhaps this would be a good time to show you the trail’s end,” she said, looking up at the wyrlaerd, “We could use your guidance.” Anything to distract the beast from their fearful leader.

The demon looked at her a moment, and then it nodded, saying, “Perhaps so. You may lead on.”

They passed through the break in the barb-cedar. Koonta led them along the narrow space between the dense foliage and the cliff line. The shade felt like a gift from Calina. She was ashamed to be sweating harder than the sun merited. They stopped before a watermelon sized boulder that jutted out from the otherwise smooth rock. It was at chest height for her, but just above the waist of the demon. “The tracks end here,” she said, “The entrance is concealed by a blue caeyl enchantment. It appears—”

“Thank you, Saaro. You’re relieved.” It was Fen’lar’s voice, and it landed as harshly as a horsefly bite.

She watched him in stunned silence as he pushed his way past her. The stupidity driving him must be epic in proportion! Had he no clue she’d likely saved his life by distracting the wyrlaerd?

“Are you deaf, Saaro?” Fen’lar said, turning his swollen red face on her, “I said. You. Are relieved!”

No, apparently he didn’t. Well, if the man wanted to die so badly, he was welcome to do it on his own. “Your will, Kad’r,” she said as she backed away, “By your leave, sir.” She cut down the line past the two ghoulish Faev’gel Guards, giving them as wide a berth as she could manage in the narrow space.

“I’m quite skilled in the assessment of basic caeyl magic,” she heard Fen’lar instruct the demon, “But even I have been confounded by this particular enchantment. I’ve concluded that the opening must be mechanical in nature rather than ethereal.”

It was just the fool’s good fortune that the demon was too focused on the boulder to attend to him. The monster was carefully touching the boulder, probing it as if looking for a link or portal.

Then everything changed.

The wyrlaerd backed a step away from the boulder. Koonta leaned as hard into the barbed hedge as she could safely manage, struggling to see around the line of Prae’s guards and Fen’lar. The boulder was glowing with a faint blue light.

She heard Fen’lar gasp and cry out, “My gods, what treachery is this?” He reached for the rock like a child reaching for a shiny bauble, but the demon seized him and threw him back against the barb-cedar line. Fen’lar screeched as his arms caught a row of the needle-like barbs.

The stone’s surface was now pulsing with an iridescent blue light that shimmered like the surface of a still pond, looking more liquid than solid. A face quickly swelled up from the rock like a swimmer emerging from the depths. It was the image of a man, though the eyes were lifeless and the mouth lacked depth. The face turned slowly to the left and then to the right. It appeared to be looking for something or someone.

She recognized this as a sentry, though it was unlike any she’d seen before. This one moved more fluidly, more naturally than the rock gargoyles guarding the southern border of Na te’Yed. The wyrlaerd studied the image for a bit before tapping the rock with a finger. The encounter sent waves of blue light rippling across the surface, which temporarily distorted the image.

When the disturbance calmed and the face condensed back into focus, the wyrlaerd leaned closer to it. “What manner of sentry are you?”

“I am the sentry of Sanctuary.” The voice was no different from any sentry she’d heard, a grating drone that was just as irritating as the demon’s.

“My gods,” Fen’lar practically shrieked, “It’s Lord Prae!”

“No,” Graezon said, “It’s just a game played by the Water Caeyl Mage.”

“It’s Prae, I tell you. Just look at it! That’s his face!”

“You’re an idiot,” the wyrlaerd said, “It’s a stone sentry, nothing more.”

Koonta’ar agreed that the image did resemble Prae, though it lacked a beard. Then again, the details were vague and difficult to make out when the sentry animated. It seemed more logical that the face belonged to the Blue Caeyl Mage, who she’d never met in person.

Graezon held its black, metal-gloved hands out over the creature, but didn’t touch it. Koonta understood the move; it was feeling for the source of the caeyl energy.

“Sentry,” it said, “Open this entrance.”

The sentry showed no reaction to the command.

“Sentry!” the wyrlaerd said more forcefully, “Open the entrance.”

Koonta suddenly became aware of a new vibration. She looked down at her feet. It originated beneath her, from somewhere deep in the earth. It sounded like the groans of an impending earthquake, perceptible only through its taer-cael. She looked up at the guards, at the wyrlaerd, at Fen’lar. No one else seemed cognizant of it.

“Your request is denied, sir,” the sentry replied in its awkward parlance.

She placed her hand against the cliff wall and leaned closer to it, listening harder with her oteuryns. Earthquakes weren’t uncommon in these parts, but there was something different about this sensation. It sounded at once both distant and imminent.

“I told you to open this passage,” she heard the demon say, “Open it now.”

“You’re trespassing here, sir,” the sentry replied, “Perhaps if you can produce the proper papers?”

“Papers?” Graezon stood staring at the sentry like it wasn’t sure it’d heard correctly.

Koonta abandoned the cliff wall and leaned out toward the hedge to see around the guards. At first, she couldn’t believe it. Was the sentry actually smiling up at the demon?

“You’ll gain no entrance here, wyrlaerd,” the sentry said, “This place is forbidden to you and to all who seek to violate Sanctuary.”

Graezon was seething now. The smell of smoking tar was becoming nearly unbearable. She could see the radiance of its heat shimmering above its long red cloak. At the same time, the vibrations beneath them were growing more compelling. Koonta again looked up at the cliff wall and wondered if there was a correlation. Could the demon’s anger be responsible for the taer-cael she sensed?

“I command you to open this entrance!” the demon snarled at the sentry, “Open it or I swear I’ll wipe your face right off this mountain!”

The sentry actually paused at this. Its eyes rolled heavenward for just a second as if it were considering the threat. Then it looked straight at the demon and actually laughed. “I think not, sir. Not today. Probably not tomorrow, either.”

Graezon slugged the rock above the sentry. “You will open this door now!”

The sentry only shrugged its eyebrows and smiled. “Perhaps if you came back in a week or so. But you’ll need to remember your papers.” Then it shuddered and froze, its now solid eyes staring blankly up at the wyrlaerd. The blue light still simmered in the stone, but it was duller now, more anemic. The sentry appeared to have withdrawn.

“It’s gone, sir,” Fen’lar said.

The demon gripped the rock protuberance with both hands and leaned over it. Its eyes pulsed brilliantly. A yellow light erupted in the stone beneath its hands. Graezon was attempting to use its own Fire Caeyl energy against the sentry.

The vibrations beneath Koonta abruptly surged. She looked down at the ground. Thousands of ants were crawling over her feet, flowing over her boots like a rivulet of thick, black water. It was a revolting sight.

Then she realized the truth. These weren’t ants at all. The earth was moving. The fine black grit covering the ground along the foot of the cliff was shimmying toward the sentry like flowing water. She’d never seen anything like it. She tried to step out of it, but the fine gravel was already up over her ankles. It was thick as mud.

“Lord Graezon!” she yelled past the guards, “You should look at this!”

The dirt was a stream, flowing over the Faev’gel guards’ feet and calves as it rushed down the line toward the demon, which was apparently oblivious to the phenomenon.

“Lord Graezon,” she yelled, “Please! You have to look at this. Something’s wrong!”

The demon still didn’t respond. The space between its hands and the sentry was aflame in yellow light that crackled and snapped as it streaked across the boulder. The acrid smell of ozone competed with the reek of tar. The thick flow of gravel was coursing around the beast’s boots now, swelling up over its knees, though it didn’t seem to notice.

Koonta felt a rush of dizziness. The unnatural taer-cael was pounding in her skull. Dirt and stones pattered from the cliff above them. The dirt was swirling in a bizarre eddy around the demon’s boots, and as she watched it consume the creature’s legs, she suddenly understood. This was an ambush set by the mage, a foul homage to the one left for him by the Divinic Demon, Wonugh, back at the house. They were in imminent danger.

“Lord Graezon,” she again shouted past the Tower Guards, “Get back! Get away from the sentry! This is a trap!” She tried to move, but the dirt flowing over her legs had her feet locked.

The face in the rock suddenly blurred back into animation, though now it glowed in an eerie green light. It looked up at the demon and seemed to sneer at it. “I have something for you, demon,” it growled, “You may consider it a favor returned.” And then its sneer blossomed into a full grin as it added, “And please, do give my regards to Prae.”

The demon pushed back from the rock too late. A thick vortex of living earth coiled up around its legs, entwining it to the hips like it was being swallowed alive by some unholy snake. The sentry’s mutated green light was now so intense Koonta couldn’t look directly at it.

The rear Faev’gel guard suddenly pulled a foot free and fell back into Koonta. She stumbled back in tandem and caromed off the wall, twisting herself toward the barb-cedar hedge. She hit the ground hard enough to free her other foot and quickly rolled away from the flowing grit.

The ground was now shaking beneath her. It felt like the entire cliff was about to slide down on them. She crawled swiftly on her elbows toward the break in the hedge. She heard Fen’lar shrieking somewhere in the chaos, but he wasn’t her problem now. Her warriors were her priority. She had to warn them away from the cliff.

“Get back from the cliff!” she yelled as she scrambled through the hedge break, “Get away from the cedars! Run toward the plain!”

 She just cleared the break and lifted herself into a run when the world exploded. A wall of heat pounded her from behind. She flailed at the air but there was nothing to grab. She landed hard in the dirt some yards later. The impact knocked the wind out of her. She pushed herself up to her elbows and struggled to draw air. Something hard landed on her shoulder, knocking her back to the earth. She again tried to stand, but a series of rocks pelted her back to the ground.

She lay on her stomach as the world whirled beneath her. Dirt and debris rained down around her. Thick smoke choked the air. Something hard struck her head, sending her face into the dirt on a spark of white pain. And then the sky fell dark, and somewhere in that timeless turning, everything went silent.