Wrath of Lions (33 page)

“Minister Mori?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling a pang of sadness. “Gods rest her soul. Soleh did not deserve the fate she received. The minister loved her god more than any other. I will never believe her a blasphemer.”

“There are many of Karak’s judgments that aren’t to be believed,” Moira said. She seemed to be enjoying his discomfort. “He is more wed to his need for order than his love for his own.”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I can see that. But do you understand my dilemma? This is the god that created us. Coming to the conclusion that he does not hold our best interests in mind has been…difficult.”

She grunted, shaking her head. “Be that as it may, the minister is gone now. And you have made a
new
pact with the Conningtons, one that directly opposes the Divinity. Do you not see the contradiction?”

“Oh, I do,” said Matthew. “But these sorts of things are complicated. You heard what the brothers said in the theater. This very well may be a long war, longer than the entire world could realistically handle. We must look out for ourselves.”

“By giving weapons to Ashhur’s children?” asked Moira, gazing toward the storehouse on the pier off to her left. She grinned. “I applaud the sentiment, obviously, given my dislike for Karak. But still…inner conflict is never good for the soul. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“I need to believe I am,” Matthew whispered.

“Even if the loss of those weapons leaves you open for the Conningtons to attack you?”

“Even so. This is not a decision I came to lightly. We are human, after all, and as I said, the only ones we can rely on…are ourselves. I needed to feed my people. I have not put my trust in the brothers lightly.”

Silence fell between them after that. Matthew paced across the slippery rocks. It was all he could do to keep from tearing out his hair. He knew Moira was right, knew that all of this—his pact with the Conningtons and the aid he’d given the survivors from Haven—was threatening to undo everything his family had worked so hard to build.
I have no choice,
he told himself. Neldar was on the verge of starvation and violence. If the gifts he had to offer could help protect the future of his family, he had to at least try.

Moira pointed into the distance, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“It’s here,” she said.

A ship appeared in the bay, blacker than black atop the waves as it passed between the walls and cliffs of Port Lancaster. It came forward slowly, sails unfurled, quiet as the grave. Matthew shuddered, thinking of the ghost ships from his father’s stories, shadow vessels that never reached shore, their decomposing crews hanging from the decks, the bones of their fingers clanking against ethereal hulls. Deep down he knew they existed only in stories, but it was impossible for his waking mind to dismiss the image.

As the ship neared, he saw that it was only made of wood and not some unearthly protoplasm. It was a handsome longboat, narrow and low to the water, built for speed and secrecy. There were two masts and six portals for oars on either side, though no oars slapped the undulating water. He saw no crew, though a single lantern burned in the aft shanty, the shadows behind it hinting at a human silhouette. A white flag fluttered on the bow.

“It’s time,” Matthew said, an uneasy feeling in his gut.

“Are you sure?” asked Moira. “There could be men with swords below deck.”

“The Conningtons gave me sixty wagons of food, Moira. Not exactly something they can take back. I trust it as a sign of honest business.”

“Yet you prepared for the worst.”

“Of course. I’m cautious like that.”

He turned toward the pier, pulled out a second sulfur stick, this one laced with copper, and struck it with flint. The green flames shot out from the end, and he held the stick up high as he marched over the slick rocks with Moira at his side.

When he reached the pier, Bren and the sellswords were already hard at work, lugging three enormous crates out of the storage shack at the base of the pier. Moira went to help them with the labor, while Matthew strolled farther down the dock, watching the mystery boat as it approached.

A rope flew from the deck of the vessel, thrown by unseen hands. Matthew caught it and tied it to the post bolted to the floor of the pier. A few of his sellswords came to his aid, catching even more ropes as they were cast from the boat. Soon it was tethered tightly to the docks, rocking and swaying, nary a sound nor a movement to be seen. Matthew felt the fear of the unknown once more, of ghosts and demons and otherworldly things bent on doing him harm.

It was then a trio of lanterns hanging from the masts of the mystery ship came to life. Three figures appeared on deck. Matthew’s heart rate quickened. They were tall beings, not quite so lofty as Wardens, but still imposing. They wore heavy cloaks, cowls sheathing their faces in darkness. They slid a gangplank over the side of the ship, fastening it to the hull with steel brackets, before descending to the pier. When they walked, they held their hands in front of them, hidden in bulky sleeves.

“Welcome,” Matthew said. His men had hauled the three crates down the dock, and he stood before his inventory like a carnival mystic preparing to reveal the secrets of the world to his audience. “I’m sure you’d like to examine the contents. If you give me a few moments, I will have one of my men open the first so you can see for yourse—”

“No,” the middle figure said. His voice was gravelly and low, more like the growl of a wild animal than the voice of a man. “We’ve
been assured of your cooperation.” The one who had spoken looked to the stars. The cowl moved with him, keeping his face cloaked in shadow. “The night progresses. We must be at sea by sunrise.”

“Well, all right then,” said Matthew. He stepped aside and gestured to the crates. “They’re all yours. Will you need help loading them onto your vessel?”

“Place them in the aft,” another of them said. They were the last words any of them spoke before disappearing into the darkness-shrouded ship.

“Men with so much to hide are not to be trusted,” Moira whispered into his ear. “They hide even the skin of their hands with those robes.”

Matthew glared at her.

“We plot behind the backs of gods. Their precautions do not surprise me. Besides, the price the Conningtons paid is well worth the risk.” He turned his attention to his men. “All right, boys, you heard him. Let’s get the cargo on board, and be quick about it.”

“We’re all going to be getting a raise, right?” asked Bren with a grin.

“Shut up and move your ass.”

Grunts of exertion followed, and by the time all three crates had been loaded onto the longboat, the eastern horizon, mostly blocked by the wall and the bay’s concealing cliffs, was beginning to brighten. The ship pushed off the dock, and long pikes plunged into the water, turning the nose around. The sails lifted, and a brisk wind kicked up as if summoned from the heavens, propelling the boat across the bay toward open ocean. Matthew stood on the pier and watched it go, hoping beyond hope that the Conningtons’ plan was viable. The livelihood of all of Port Lancaster—of Neldar itself—could very well depend on it.

C
HAPTER

16

D
espite the blazing sun overhead, the sand felt cool between Aully’s toes as she walked barefoot through the desert. Those who had lived their whole lives in Ker assured her that in a few weeks that sand would become hot enough to raise blisters on the feet of anyone foolish enough to venture into the arid region without the proper attire. She loathed the thought, for exploring the wilds of the desert was her favorite pastime. She and Kindren went hiking near every morning, visiting the small settlements that popped up sporadically throughout the vast wasteland of dunes and red cliffs. They would sit with the locals, chat with them, and display small feats of magic in return for conversation and a taste of the local fare—fried cactus stuffed with oat and wildflower mash, roasted ferret, sweet leek soup containing chunks of lizard meat, usually finished off with pomegranate wine. Given the giant Bardiya’s strict decree that none were to venture near the borders, these expeditions were the last bastion of entertainment in all of Ker.

Right now, she wished she and Kindren were wandering as they usually did, instead of sneaking after Bardiya, who had left
earlier that afternoon with an admonition that none were to join him on the day’s quest. It was an odd command for him, both because he always took company with him on his prayer missions and because it was rare for the inhumanly tall man to make such iron commands.

Bardiya was nothing but a shimmering black dot in the distance, and Aullienna allowed herself to set aside her fears and focus on her surroundings. She found beauty in the desert; the rippling sand and high dunes were like waves in a white ocean that moved so slowly that not even an elf’s keen eyes could decipher the movement. The cliffs they came across were tall and majestic, like stone fingers offering salutations to Celestia, and every so often they would come upon a small thatch of trees, in the middle of which was a patch of crystal blue water. Lizards often congregated in those magical little spots, along with the occasional desert hare. No land, no matter how harsh, was completely uninhabitable.

Her heel sank into the sand and she stumbled. She yelped in surprise, teetering to the side, but Kindren was there in an instant, his hands slipping beneath her armpits. His fingers brushed her right breast, barely covered by the sheer lambskin linen she wore that day, and her insides fluttered.

“Watch it,” her love said, chuckling. “Don’t want to break a leg way out here.”

“Sorry,” she said, blushing.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Here, lean on me for a while.”

And so she did, just as she had come to do in so many ways. Her eyes lifted to the bright blue sky, toward the star of her goddess, concealed by the brightness of the day.
Thank you for him, Celestia,
she prayed silently.
I don’t know what I’d do without him.

Looking up at Kindren, Aully felt her mouth stretching wide. “Forever,” she whispered, the only word she could think to say. Her love glanced down at her with a smile.

For ten paces they held each other’s gaze, and when Kindren finally lifted his eyes to their surroundings, he paused, his grip tightening on her side.

“What is
that
?” he asked.

They had unwittingly made their way to a ledge of sorts. Behind and off to the side was a triple-peaked rock face, the lower ledge packed with desert flowers and wavering brown grasses, a natural bridge of stone spanning between the second and third peaks. In front of them was a slightly pitched cliff, the stone worn smooth from decades of wind blasting sand against its side. To the left of the cliff was what looked to be a gritty path packed with hardened sand, leading down the gentle slope. The formation was the same yellowish-white color as the sand, making it virtually invisible to the naked eye until they were right on top of it.

But the rock face and cliff were not what had captured Kindren’s attention. Aully followed his gaze, which was fixed on a strange black finger of obsidian down below them. Bardiya was standing beside it, and the thing was three times as tall as the giant.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Stay low,” Kindren said, gently pushing her down until both of them lay on their bellies in the shifting sands. A gust of wind blew, assaulting her face and eyes. She buried her head in her arm, waiting for it to stop.

When it did, she glanced over to see Kindren spitting and wiping splotches of dirt from his mouth. He smiled awkwardly at her, his pale cheeks flushing red.

“Stupid wind,” he said.

“Missed some.” She reached over, wiped a few stray granules from the corner of his lip with her thumb.

“Where would I be without you, Aully?”

“Probably locked in your room back at your parents’ palace.”

She had meant it as a joke, but Kindren grimaced just the same, averting his eyes and staring down at the jutting black rock. Aully
sighed, muttered a curse to herself, and did the same, shielding her eyes when another squall hit them.

“Who else is down there?” Kindren asked. His voice was soft.

Aully squinted. “Don’t know. Hard to see through the wind and all.”

“Looks like a guy on a horse. Or
with
a horse. He’s all shiny too.” She looked at Kindren, who was straining to see, as if he could create a looking glass by squeezing his eyelids together tightly enough. “He looks…funny.”

“Funny how? I can’t see anything. It’s all blurry.”

Kindren shrugged. “Shaped funny. Don’t know. Probably just a trick of light or something.”

“Maybe.”

He rolled over then, peering at her with frowning lips. “Aully, that wasn’t fair.”

“What?” she asked. “I just said ‘maybe.’”

Kindren shook his head. “No, not that. What you said about me being locked in my room. You know I risked everything to get you out of Dezerea, but what I did…I didn’t do it just because of you.”

She stared at him, uncertain of what to say.

Kindren closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I helped Ceredon free you because it was
right
. Because it was horrible what the Neyvar and my parents did to your family. I would have done it under any circumstances. Please know that.”

Shame filled her.

“It was just a joke,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He threw his arm around her and smiled. “I know. And it’s okay, I’m not mad. I’m really not. I just…I just need you to understand the kind of man I am. It’s not always about just you and me. If we’re ever going to get home, we have to think about what’s right for everyone else too. That is something you want, right?”

She nodded.

Kindren kissed her, then slapped at the sand. “You know what? Let’s head back. There’s nothing to see here, and it makes me feel dirty spying on the one human who considers us his equals.”

“All right.”

They stood up while the giant and the mystery man continued their summit down below. Turning back, they began the journey home. The sudden winds had erased their tracks in the sand, giving Aully a moment of fright, but Kindren seemed confident. Her spirits rose ever so slightly, and she leaned into him, pressing her ear to his chest so that she could hear the beat of his heart.