they gather in the south and serve the Usurper.”
The Queen looked upon each face at the table, a wordless apology that her pride would not allow her to voice. She quietly ordered two servants to carry Wayudi to a bed. They lifted the soldier to his feet, his arms about their shoulders, and he stumbled away to rest.
“He knows we are here, Khama,” said Iardu. “We have lost the element of surprise… if we ever truly had it.”
“And so the treaty is broken,” said Umbrala.
“Yes,” said Khama. “Knowing we would come, Elhathym struck first. Next his shadows will come north, to the gates of Mumbaza and into its streets.”
“Only the sun will stop them,” said Iardu. “His living legions will ride into Zaashari at sunrise and take control of the fortress, now that all in it are dead.”
The Queen turned to Andoses. “We will join your Alliance of Nations,” she said, “but we cannot now send legions to Khyrei, for we must go to war against Yaskatha.”
“I am sorry for this slaughter,” said Andoses. “But I am glad for your allegiance. You can serve the Alliance by restoring Prince D’zan to his throne. While Mumbaza battles Elhathym, we in the east can march on Ianthe’s kingdom. When the tyrant is vanquished, send your legions to join us in Khyrei.”
The Queen nodded, her fine mouth set into a grim frown.
Iardu looked at Andoses. “You do not know the power of Elhathym,” he said. “Or Ianthe. This will not be a war of sword and shield, but a clash of forces you can scarcely comprehend.” p› ‹p height='0em' width='27'›‹font size='3'›“We three go now to drive back the sorcerer and his demons,” said Khama. He faced the Queen. “Assemble your legions to retake Zaashari and march on Yaskatha.”‹font›
D’zan broke his silence. “Great Queen, I will fight with Mumbaza this day. Tyro and his warriors ride with me. The people of Zaashari will be avenged, and the usurper will pay for this peace-breaking.”
The Queen’s look changed from troubled to impressed as she eyed D’zan. “You will ride with my generals, Prince D’zan. And you will sit upon your father’s throne.”
Tyro gave Lyrilan a devious smile. Lyrilan licked his dry lips, coughed, pinched his nose.
“I would stand with you as well,” said Andoses, “if circumstances were otherwise. I must still depart this morning.”
“The King understands your need, Prince Andoses,” said Umbrala. “You have his blessing and eternal friendship. Once we have smashed this usurper and his army of shadows, we will support you in Khyrei.”
“Your Majesty is both wise and gracious,” said Andoses with a bow.
“I must meet with the King’s advisors now,” said Umbrala. “My servants will see to all your needs.”
The assemblage rose from their chairs, all but the Queen. A line of worried officials came through the doors to replace them. The sun was about to rise.
“Let us go at once,” said Khama.
“Wait,” said Iardu. “We must look in on poor Wayudi first.”
“Yes,” said Khama. “We must…”
Sharadza followed them to the room where Wayudi slept. He lay on a bed below a window overlooking the dark sea. A cool wind blew through the casement, but Wayudi sweated and groaned as if in a fever.
“Is it poison?” asked Sharadza.
“Of the worst kind,” said Iardu. “Not a physical poison, but a spiritual one.”
Wayudi’s spasms grew worse as the far sea warmed with pink light. The sun was coming.
Khama bent over the suffering man, mumbling a chant.
“What were those things?” Sharadza asked. “The Dwellers in Shadow you spoke of?”
“There are many kinds of shadow spirits,” said Iardu, “but the Spirits of Vakai are the most deadly. When living men die, most move on to the World of the Dead, manifesting there the illusion of their own afterlife. Yet those whose souls were consumed by hatred, avarice, or cruelty often cannot find their way into the Deathlands, so they linger in the dark and forsaken corners of the world, or haunt the places where they died. When such entities spill the blood of the living, they consume its essence and gain power… but this power eventually forces them into the void, an Outer World called Vakai, wheledhen re there is nothing more to feed on. A formless place of eternal hunger and torment.”
Wayudi tossed and turned, his chest heaving, yet still unconscious. His teeth gnashed as if he were chewing a piece of leather. Khama sang and waved a hand over his shivering body. The first sparkles of sunlight danced on the ocean, and the tip of the sun-orb rose above the waves. Wayudi cried out like a dog in pain, then growled.
“These Spirits of Vakai can slip back into our world at times, or someone like Elhathym may summon them. They cannot abide the sunlight, so they roam at night. When dawn comes they sink into the depths of the earth and its very stones, where no light can penetrate. Yet at night they emerge into physical forms like wolves, reptiles, or flying beasts, to seek the blood that gives them power and substance. The essence of blood, torn from the living, is their only concern. Those they drain but do not kill – like Wayudi – bear their curse.”
The first sunray fell through the window and Wayudi fell still. “It is too late,” said Khama. “I cannot save him.”
Brightness grew on the pristine walls and ceiling, and Wayudi grew dim before Sharadza’s eyes. His flesh and clothing became transparent, and he flowed like water into the sheets, then into the stones of the floor. A black shadow bearing his shape lay on the floor, then that too faded.
“At nightfall he will rise and haunt the palace,” said Iardu. “Unless we bind him to this room.”
Khama nodded and sighed.
“You mean… he is… one of them?” Sharadza asked.
“A Vakai, yes,” said Khama. “He will crave only blood.”
“Why do such terrible things exist?” she asked.
Iardu looked at her as if she already knew the answer.
“Patterns,” he said.
Khama instructed a servant to bring certain herbs, a strong lock for the door, and boards for the window.
“We will wait in the Lemon Garden,” said Iardu, his hand on Khama’s shoulder.
Sharadza had time enough to say goodbye to Vireon. She hugged him and Alua.
“Come with us to Shar Dni,” said Vireon. She knew he feared for her in Yaskatha.
“I cannot,” she said. “I asked Iardu to face Elhathym. I cannot abandon him.”
Vireon seemed to understand. “We will meet in Khyrei then… when you are done here.”
“We will,” she said.
She ate a few grapes, drank some fresh milk, and joined Iardu on the terrace of a secluded garden. A ring of tall thin trees bore vivid fruits the color of topaz stones, and birds sang among the branches. The sky was blue and cloudless overhead, a hot southern sky. She had no time e hnd jto visit the famous Forest of Jewels that lay somewhere in the heart of Undutu’s palace. Such wonders must wait for more peaceful times.
“This is your last chance to change your mind,” Iardu told her, his prismatic eyes glistening. “Once we leave here, there will be no turning back.”
“What is our other choice?” she asked. “Wait for the hordes of Vakai to come raging into Mumbaza? Then Uurz? Then on to Udurum? No… we must do this.”
“Khama and I must,” he said. “But you do not have to. Go east with your brother and cousin. They need you in Shar Dni.”
She tilted her head at him. He would go to face Elhathym without her if she asked him to. There it was again, that strange endearing look in his inhuman eyes.
“We three must go,” she said, and he said no more about it.
Khama came forth in his cloak of gaudy feathers. He had finally let go of his herdsman’s staff, leaving it with his wife. Without a word he sprang to the ground, balanced on his fingers, legs stretched taut behind him. The sea wind picked up and blew strong over the city as Khama’s cloak lengthened and grew. Beneath its feathery folds, the man-shape blurred and was lost. The feathers multiplied in all their shades: crimson, emerald, azure. He lengthened impossibly, his head growing into a huge triangular shape, his body coiling and writhing among the trees of the lemon grove. Sharadza grabbed Iardu’s elbow as Khama grew and swirled about them like a tri-colored wind.
A moment later his great head turned amber eyes to stare at them. They stood now in the center space of
