Taking Flight

He was destined to be Asha’s champion, but that didn’t mean he had to like her, and just now, tired and frightened as he was, he did not think much of her at all.

Chapter Seventeen

To Kelder the double moonlight on the desert sand looked somehow unnatural. It was brighter than moonlight had any right to be, even when both moons were full and at zenith — and in fact, that wasn’t the case. The moons were both past zenith, the lesser descending quickly toward the western horizon, the greater still high overhead, and neither was full — the lesser was close, but the greater was only about three-quarters. The familiar rosy glow of the moons combined with the gold of the sands to make an odd, burnt-orange color that Kelder didn’t like at all. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for sunrise?” he asked.

“Come on,” Irith said, “let’s get out of here!”

Asha said nothing, but she obviously agreed with Irith; she was tugging at Kelder’s sleeve. Reluctantly, he came.

“I can see why you’re in a hurry, Asha,” he said. “You want to set your brother’s soul free. But I don’t know why you’re rushing so much, Irith.”

She glanced back over her shoulder; the city wall gleamed ruddily in the moonslight, and the open gates were a tangle of torchlight and shadow. She thought she saw something moving, and wasn’t sure if it was just a flickering shadow, or really someone there.

“Let’s just say I don’t much care for Shan on the Desert any more,” the Flyer replied.

“Is it because that inn was gone?” Asha asked.

“No,” Irith answered.

“It’s that old drunk, isn’t it?” Kelder said. “Or at least that’s part of it. But I don’t see why he has you so upset.”

“It’s not him, either,” Irith said, with another glance behind.

Kelder looked at her, then turned his gaze to his feet and trudged onward through the cool orange sands.

She was lying, he was sure. It was the drunk.

They had gone no more than a league when the lesser moon set; the greater moon was working its way toward the horizon, as well. Color faded from their surroundings, and Kelder began to worry.

“Are we still on the highway?” he asked.

For several seconds, no one answered. Then Irith said, “I don’t know. I can’t see that well.”

They stumbled on for a moment longer, and then Kelder remarked, “Well, if we’re not, at least the caravaners won’t find us.”

“Those demons could,” Irith replied.

Asha started crying quietly.

“You would have to say that,” Kelder muttered, not really meaning Irith to hear.

“Oh, shut up,” Irith said.

“We’re going to wander around in circles until we die!” Asha wailed.

“No, we aren’t,” Irith snapped.

Kelder took it upon himself to expand on this. “We’re all right, Asha,” he said. “Really. We know we’re going south because the greater moon is on our right, see? And look, off to the left.” He pointed. “There’s light on the horizon, that’s the sun coming because it’s almost dawn, so that’s east. So even if we lose the highway, we’ll reach that big cliff eventually, and then we can find the road again.”

“Oh,” Asha said, struggling to stifle her tears. A moment later, when they were under control, she whined, “I’m tired.”

“We all are,” Kelder said.

“Then why don’t we rest?”

Kelder halted in his tracks with the intention of making some biting retort, and then stopped. “You’re right,” he said. “Why don’t we? They probably aren’t going to come after us. Even if they realize we’ve left the city, why should they go to all that trouble? They have plenty of heads. So what’s the hurry?” He sat down on the cool sand. “I’m tired, too, and I’m going to sit here and rest until the sun comes up and we can see what we’re doing.”

Asha smiled, and plopped down beside him.

Irith had proceeded a dozen paces farther, but now she stopped, as well, and turned back to look at the others. “Here?” she said. “Out in the middle of the desert?”

“Why not?” Kelder asked. “What’s going to bother us?”

Irith looked back at Shan, still visible as a dark, uneven line on the horizon and a faint glow in the sky.

“Besides,” Kelder said, “if anything comes after us, we’ll see it in plenty of time. You can grow wings and fly away.”

“It’ll still get us,” Asha said, momentarily concerned.

“It would,” Kelder agreed, “if anything were going to come after us, but nothing is. And besides, if Irith got away, she’d find some way to save us, I’m sure.”

Irith looked at Kelder doubtfully, suspecting — with reason — that he was being sarcastic.

“All right,” she said, “we can rest here for a little while, I guess.” She folded her legs and sank to the ground.

None of them really intended to sleep; the idea was merely to rest for a few minutes.

On the other hand, none of them had had much more than four hours sleep in the past twenty-four, and they had walked a very great distance in that time, as well as going through the various excitements in Shan. Kelder had punched an old man, Irith had pried a severed head off the point of a spear, and Asha had participated in the rescue, as she saw it, of her brother’s soul.

Within five minutes, long before the sun rose or the greater moon set, they were all sound asleep.

Even as he lay sleeping, something nagged at Kelder. He knew he shouldn’t be asleep, and that knowledge troubled his dreams.

Still, exhaustion had a firm grip on him, and he slept on.

The sun rose, and its warmth on his face, its light on his eyelids discomfited him; he struggled to wake up.

Something threw a shadow over him briefly, and the sands shifted slightly; the sound of footsteps reached Kelder, even asleep. He stirred slightly, and tried to pry his eyes open, tried to make his arms and legs move.

A low voice spoke, something brushed — and Irith shrieked.

Kelder was awake at last, scrambling to his feet.

Irith screamed, long and piercing; she was sitting up, hands out to fend off, and as Kelder’s eyes focused her wings appeared and spread. She kicked off, flapping, and skittered across the sand for a moment, heels dragging, before she managed to get herself airborne.

As she did, a dark, ragged shape that Kelder could not immediately identify threw itself at her, trying to grab her, hold her down, bring her back — but unsuccessfully. She slipped away and soared upward. Kelder and Asha watched her go.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow, didn’t look back; she flapped strongly and steadily as she drove southward toward the horizon.

The ragged creature wailed and wept, calling after her; most of the words, if they were words, were unintelligible, but the name Irith was repeated frequently. It staggered along for a few paces, then collapsed, sobbing, into a miserable, huddled heap. Then it lifted its head. With a shock, Kelder realized that the creature was the old drunk who had accosted Irith back in Shan.

“Irith,” the old man called, “come back! I won’t hurt you, I swear it, I just want to talk! Please!”

The distant speck that was Irith the Flyer continued to dwindle.

“Now what do we do?” Asha asked.

Kelder looked about. His pack was still lying where he had left it; the bundle containing Abden’s head was