Return of the Crimson Guard

they anyway? Brothers, or close cousins, perhaps. But who were they in truth?

He picked scales from his mouth and stretched his burning legs to stop them from seizing, then he turned his thoughts to the real question plaguing him. Why were they still alive? If these Crimson Guard Avowed were so fearsome why hadn't they caught them already? Or simply murdered them one night as easily as he, Kyle, might swat insects?

Stalker tossed Kyle the waterskin which he caught in one hand. ‘How you feelin'?’

‘Worn out. You fellows set an awful pace.’

The scout grunted. ‘Well, you let me know how you're holdin’ up. I'll rein in the boys even more if need be.’

Even more? By the Ancestors, Kyle knew that only the best runners of his tribe could have accomplished what they had managed in the last five days. Still, and he relaxed back to flexing his legs, what did distance matter when those hunting had access to the Warrens? He watched while the rangy, sandy- haired scout examined the bottom of one moccasin. ‘What does it matter? If they really wanted us, they could have us.’

‘True enough. And they did want you those first few days. But like Mara said, you had protection. Anyway, by now I figure they're long gone.’

The fish slipped from Kyle's grasp. ‘Gone? You mean they've left? Where?’

‘Quon, o’ course. The invasion. They were organizing the departure when me ‘n’ the boys volunteered to track you down.’ The scout gave his wolfish smile. ‘Sorry to be the one to give you the bad news, lad, but I guess you're just not that important, hey?’

Kyle gaped, appalled. ‘Then why in the Dark Hunter's name have we been killing ourselves running halfway across Stratem!’

‘Well. Better safe than sorry, eh?’

‘I don't blasted believe it!’ Kyle fought to open the waterskin.

‘Hey now! Don't be upset. Things are looking up. Remember I said you had protection, right?’

‘Yes — what was that about?’

Stalker raised his chin aside. ‘Well, let's see if they're willing to talk now.’

Badlands came pushing through branches and brush. With him was an old woman, squat and bandylegged, her face the hue of ironwood. She wore pale leathers decorated with fur edging, feather tufts and shells. The soft jangling of the shells accompanied her walk and Kyle did not wonder how she could move silent through the woods for he recognized her — his own tribe had its shamans, male and female, healers, priests and even warleaders. He stood to meet her.

Badlands nodded to Stalker. ‘This is Janbahashur — as least, that's the best I can manage/ To her he said, ‘Stalker, Kyle.’

They bowed. Her smile was wide and showed large white teeth. Kyle was struck by the broad ridges above her deep brown eyes. It was as if she was watching them from within a cave. ‘Thank you for your protection,’ he said.

She laughed. ‘We only helped a little,’ she said in Talian. ‘You did most.’ Kyle was deeply puzzled by that but he bowed just the same. ‘You travel west,’ she said. ‘We will help.’

Badlands and Stalker exchanged glances. ‘How so?’ the scout asked. It seemed to Kyle that Stalker had wanted to ask another question, why? but that good manners stopped him.

‘We shall open a way. You cross through. Travel west.’

‘A Warren?’

Janbahashur raised her brows, smiling. ‘A way, a path, call it what you will.’

Neither of the soldiers spoke, obviously reluctant. Kyle wondered if it was up to him to say something. He decided not to be so well-mannered. ‘Why? Why help us — me?’

The old woman's eyes glittered with hidden knowledge and humour. ‘You could say it was whispered to us in the wind.’

Wind. There it was. Kyle stared, daring the woman to say more, but her gaze remained calm and steady and he was forced to look away. ‘Very well. We'll go.’

Stalker nodded at Kyle's acceptance. ‘OK. When and where?’

‘Not here. Follow me. It is not far.’

As they walked Janbahashur fell into step next to Kyle. Her soft hide moccasins made no sound as she stepped over fallen branches and patches of moss. She directed them upslope and soon bare lichen-stained rock mounded around them. Dead fallen oak and spruce made the going slow.

‘Your people are like us, I think,’ she said to Kyle. ‘You live on the land, yes?’

‘Yes. And we worship it, and the sun, the rain — and wind.’

She smiled again. ‘Yes. Wind. Many people worship it. To some it is merely a route to power — a tool to be used. But to us it is life.’ She breathed in expansively, exhaled in a gust. ‘Every living thing takes it in. Even the trees. It is part of all of us, intermingling. For us it is really a symbol for that most unknowable of things, the life essence.’

‘I see — I think.’

She laughed. ‘There is no need to understand.’ She gestured ahead. ‘Here we are. Up here.’

They climbed a rising dome of striated bedrock. Lichen painted it orange and red amid its dark green and zigzag of quartz veins. The peak overlooked virgin forest for as far as Kyle could see. Other than this magnificent view, the dome was empty. A few small round stones dotted it here and there, in what might be drawn as a large circle.

Kyle looked around, caught Stalker's eye, gestured a question. The scout nodded reassuringly.

‘One of your friends is watching my people, as should be,’ said Janbahashur. ‘They watch him in turn. That is good. To do otherwise would be foolish and we do not wish to waste our time on the foolish. Call him up.’

Stalker signed something to Badlands who jogged down the slope.

‘It is ready,’ Janbahashur said, pointing to the centre of the broad circle. Kyle saw nothing, just empty rock. She smiled at his puzzlement. ‘Look more closely. Take your time.’

Shading his eyes from the setting sun, Kyle squinted at the smooth expanse. At first he still saw nothing, then he noticed a slight shimmering of the ground and air around the centre of the circle, as if dust was blowing. While he watched, patches of dust and sand stirred to life on the rock, swirled faster and faster, blurring, then were sucked away to disappear as if by an invisible wind. Listening carefully, he could just make out a loud hissing as of a waterfall heard from far away.

He looked to Janbahashur. ‘What is it?’

‘As you said, a path of Wind.’

‘Like nothing I've ever seen,’ said Stalker. ‘But I'm new to these Warrens. What I've seen were more like tears, gaps and holes.’

Janbahashur dismissed such things with a wave. ‘Faugh. Brute force. Abusing the fabric of things. We use no such painful means. We merely bend the natural ways, concentrate and redirect forces. If you wish to get the stone from a fruit you can throw it to the ground and step on it, or, you can slowly and gently pull where the fruit would halve until it parts on its own.’

Coots and Badlands joined them. Janbahashur waved them on, impatient. ‘Go on. Quickly. Do not pause. A few paces, I should think. Go.’

Stalker signed something and Badlands gave an out-thrust fist and stepped forward. The gesture had something of the look of a salute to Kyle, but one he'd never seen before. Knees bent in a fighting crouch, arms akimbo, Badlands advanced on the blurred patch of air. As he came close he reached out an arm. Janbahashur, at Kyle's side, hissed her alarm. At that instant Badlands simply disappeared. It was hard to say, but Kyle had the impression that he'd been yanked forward with immense power, as if by a giant or a god. The old woman let out a relieved breath. ‘Good. Now, you too. Go.’

Stalker started forward as did Kyle but the old woman caught Kyle's arm. ‘A word, young warrior.’ Stalker paused as well. His hair, the tag-ends of his shirts, the leather ties, all snapped and strained toward the apex. He was saying something but Kyle could not hear a word of it. While he watched the scout strained forward as if against a storm of wind but was losing ground as his moccasined feet slipped and shuffled backwards on the ridged rock. He must have given up the fight for in the next moment he was gone, snatched into the blur of hissing dust