Return of the Crimson Guard

The Wind King! Closer now, Kyle was certain that he must also be the figure from his dreams.

Ammanas, Cotillion and Traveller all edged together to face the intruder and Kyle almost laughed to see them shrinking from the entity. His second thought was: all that is Holy! Who was this being? Ammanas eventually slid forward, planted his walking stick. ‘Osserc! You are trespassing upon my demesnes!’

So! It was he! Sky father of his people. Alive after all! Known to these — an Ascendant?

The blunt, almost brutal features of the being did not even register recognition that anyone had spoken. His gold eyes scanned the room, avid. A smile of satisfaction tightened his heavy lips. ‘After so long…’ he rumbled in accented Talian.

‘You must go! You are not permitted here!’

Kyle's stomach clenched in dread upon seeing Cotillion and Traveller, flanking Ammanas, exchange narrowed glances. The doorway was now unoccupied but Kyle did not move. He longed to approach yet dared not interrupt. From the distance, muted by the walls of the ruin, or building, or whatever sort of construct it was, came the long and low baying of hounds. Ammanas straightened to rest his hands on the handle of his walking stick. A creamy satisfied smile crept up his lips.

Osserc merely turned his back upon everyone, stretched his hands out, running them over the walls. ‘Yes, yes. I see…’ he breathed, his tone almost reverent.

Ammanas's insubstantial features twisted his frustration. He stamped his walking stick. ‘Do not be so foolish as to provoke me!’

‘And do not be so foolish as to repeat the mistake you made with my compatriot Anomander not so long ago,’ Osserc growled. ‘How many guardians did you lose bickering with him, little shadow crow? Two? Three?’

Flinching away, Ammanas turned to Cotillion. The two appeared to share unspoken communication. The rope in Cotillion's hand twitched as if it were part of the thoughts. Traveller slid forward, sword raised, the light gleaming from the oily magenta blade. His back to the room, Osserc murmured, ‘I know that weapon better than you and we have no business, upstart.’ Traveller carefully edged back, his eyes slitted.

A rumbling snarl shook the stones beneath Kyle's feet. He turned his head aside to see there in the entrance a crouching hound, a monstrous one that appeared as if it could be fully as tall as Kyle himself, mangy brown and scarred. Its snout, longer than Kyle's forearm, rested on its outstretched forepaws. Ammanas crossed to it, set a hand on its head, murmured reassuringly.

Into this tableau came the little monkey-like messenger. He was pushing a mop ahead of himself as he came from further within. All eyes, but for those of Osserc, moved to track the creature as it became increasingly obvious that his path would take him straight into the giant. The mop bumped up against Osserc's bare foot. The giant did not move, though he clasped his hands behind his back in what Kyle thought might have been irritation. The creature repeatedly banged the wet mop-head against Osserc's foot. Its face screwed up in vexation. The giant edged his head down. The monkey-like thing jumped up and down, waved its arms, stamped a foot. Letting out a deep rumbling sigh, Osserc stepped aside to allow the fellow to pass. The creature slathered the mop over the flagging, muttering to itself.

Ammanas straightened, his gauzy face relieved. The House is unconcerned. We need not bother ourselves with this rude intrusion. We may ignore it as one might an irksome fly.’

Osserc snapped a glare to Ammanas that just as quickly eased into indifference and he turned away. His gaze found Kyle and the eyes swirled molten, his lips pulled back in what one might generously call a smile, revealing prominent tusks at his lower jaws. ‘Well done, son of the steppes. I am in your debt.’

‘Father of Winds,’ Kyle began, stammering, ‘I had no idea…’

‘You were not to. And I am not father to winds or to your people. Your ancestors merely adopted the ancestral totems of sun, sky and winds — all of which shine, turn and blow without my intervention. So are traditions invented. It is up to you to keep them — or not. Here,’ and he gestured and a weapon appeared in his hand. ‘I owe you a weapon. Take mine with my thanks and we are even. Goodbye.’ The giant abruptly turned and walked away, disappearing into the gloom further within. Kyle stared after him as one might a phantom.

‘Good riddance!’ Ammanas called loudly. ‘Now, the rest of you, out as well! Out! Is this a grubby tavern? Am I social host?’

The hound had left and so Kyle backed into the doorway. It opened on to a hall that led past an alcove containing a huge and ornate set of bronze armour, then on to another door that opened as Kyle approached. Kyle almost stumbled here as he glanced back to see the same old beehive-like tomb behind him.

Outside, Jan and the Lost brothers sat up, weapons out. ‘Thank the Dark Hunter,’ Stalker called. ‘A hound as large as a horse came running in after you.’

‘Yes. It didn't attack.’

‘And Traveller?’

Kyle looked back, surprised. ‘He should be with me…’

After a moment the swordsman did emerge. He glanced anxiously among them, then relaxed. ‘Good. I was worried that perhaps the hound…’

‘It ignored us,’ Stalker said. ‘So? What happened?’ and he looked between them.

‘An agreement was reached and you are free to go,’ Traveller said.

‘You?’ Kyle and Stalker echoed.

‘Yes. I am not going with you.’

‘I didn't agree to that,’ Kyle said, his voice rising.

‘Don't worry. There's no danger — either for you or for me.’

‘No danger? That man, or god, or whatever he is, is a lunatic’

‘I've had that impression for some time, Kyle.’

‘So, just like that? You'll stay?’ The scout could not have been more sceptical.

‘Yes.’

‘Do we go back to the boat?’ Jan asked.

‘No.’

‘No? Why not?’

‘You no longer need it.’ The swordsman scanned the horizon, inclined his head to indicate a direction. ‘You should go that way.’

‘What do you-’ Stalker began but something flew out of the open portal to land in the dust with a wet slap. A torn muddy robe.

Everyone traded glances. ‘I suppose,’ Coots said, ‘that means we ought to be on our way.’

‘Yes. You should.’

‘Traveller,’ Kyle begged. ‘Don't…’

‘It's best this way. I'm endangering you. Attracting unnecessary attention.’ He walked to stand before Jan. The two locked gazes for a time, neither looking away. Finally, taking a deep breath, the swordsman studied Jan directly for the longest time, his gaze moving up and down; the old man did not move at all, his mouth clenched tight as if he dared not speak. After a moment Traveller sighed, nodded at some unspoken evaluation and turned to Kyle. He set his hands on Kyle's shoulders. ‘Farewell, Kyle. Bring your case to the Guard. I hope they will prove worthy of you.’ He released Kyle's shoulders.

‘Please come with us!’

The swordsman gently reached out to touch the amber stone hanging at Kyle's neck. ‘You were right to pick that up. But I know he will always be with you regardless. I know he will always be with me. Farewell.’ And he turned away, blinking.

Kyle felt the hot tears at his cheeks. ‘Traveller…’

The man's shoulders tightened. ‘It is how it must be, Kyle. I… I am sorry.’ He faced the brothers. ‘Stalker, Coots, Badlands. An honour.’

They tilted their heads in goodbye.

Traveller ducked into the tomb, disappearing into the darkness.

‘Farewell Whorou!’ a voice called from aside. ‘Fare thee well!’ Kyle spun. Their guide, the dirty-robed fellow, had returned. As they all watched, he blew his nose on the arm of his torn garment. Kyle glanced back to the entrance; it was of course gone. ‘Come, come,’ the man beckoned, the loose wet sleeves hanging empty.