“Then I shall feel the wind pass through the hairs that are springing from my mane and the sun beat upon my back. The open sky shall be my temple and all the wild beasts shall flee from me in fear. I shall pit my speed and strength against them and bring them down in righteous sacrifice in your name. I shall hunt for you, Drakis, and for all of us. I shall taste the warm blood of my prey in my mouth once more as the star-gods intended from the beginning.”
Drakis turned to Ethis. “What about you. . I can assume you’ve been here before.”
“Here, yes,” Ethis said then nodded toward the great plain to the north. “But there? No. That is a land that cannot be tamed, a land too wild and harsh even for the determined and cunning elves of Rhonas. The Empire has extended its influence farther to the north and east, but into this place they rarely bother to venture except on occasional slaving expeditions on the southern shores of the Bay of Thetis. .”
Drakis was having trouble hearing what Ethis was saying. He had to remind himself that he could not trust the chimerian, a creature that a small part of his mind still told him was a trusted colleague and brother in arms but only, he reminded himself, because the Devotions had made him believe it. Drakis had no memory of Ethis before the battle for the Ninth Throne, and his actions since the fall of their Devotions-his alarming transformations in the faery kingdom and his use of them to trick Drakis into revealing so much of himself-had left the human hurt and suspicious.
Beyond his distrust, the song was running through his mind, and it distracted him once more. It was never far from his thoughts and was growing stronger with every step they took toward the north. In some ways, this was a comfort to him; before it had been a weak annoyance, like an itch that one could not quite reach. With its increasing prominence he was better able to tune it out and even ignore it from time to time. But occasionally it dislodged memories that rushed to the surface of his thoughts and broke upon his consciousness.
Drakis forced his attention back to Ethis as he spoke.
“. . no real knowledge of the nomadic tribes that manage to make their home here,” Ethis concluded. “I took a very long road to avoid crossing that dangerous wasteland-no one enters the savanna of Vestasia lightly.”
“All the more reason we should,” Drakis answered. “What better place to hide than a place no one wishes to enter?”
Ethis raised both his hairless brows in surprise.
“It’s north-in Vestasia,” Drakis said with a thin smile. “You wait and see.”
They walked for five days across the plain without feeling they were making any progress. Ethis insisted that they pick a point in the distance in the morning that appeared to be north and then keep their track fixed on that destination. This almost always amounted to finding a distant grouping of trees that could be spied across the seemingly endless grasses.
The terrain was far from entirely flat; undulations and occasional rock outcroppings gave some variety to what otherwise would have been a near tabletop flatness to the land. The grasses were yellowing and the ground beneath them parched. Their footfalls raised great clouds of gray dust that drifted upward, which greatly concerned Ethis as their movements could undoubtedly be seen for many leagues in any direction.
Mornings were the time that Drakis liked best, for each of them worked in harmony toward their common good. Belag, who had disappeared the previous night, would return exhausted in the morning-but always with a fresh kill. RuuKag would quarter the creature and properly butcher its meat so that it could be cooked. Jugar would busy himself finding or making a properly clear space while Ethis constructed a fire pit. Mala and Drakis would cook the meat for them, while the Lyric always seemed to appear with wild roots or berries though none of them could determine just how or where she came by them. Then, their meal concluded and the remaining cooked meats packed for use later in the day, everyone would see to cleaning up the camp before setting off.
Belag would remain behind and sleep in the early part of the day, but he would always join them by afternoon, his deep-throated voice singing through the grasses as he approached.
By midday of the sixth day of their trek northward, they came upon a wide, meandering river that wound its twisted way across the plain. Wildebeest, antelope, and ibex appeared from time to time at the river’s edge to drink. . each one a sight that astonished the humans and even, Drakis noted with amusement, the chimerian. Jugar at each opportunity managed to spin a tapestry of knowledge about these beasts based entirely on stories he had heard or, Drakis was convinced, that the dwarf made up on the spot.
They followed the river for four additional days, but by the morning of the tenth day it was obvious that the river’s course was leading more toward the west. When Belag reported that there were watering holes to be found on their northern course, Drakis determined to abandon the river, and once more they set off across the plain.
It was on the evening of the thirteenth day that they saw the great dust trail crossing the plains to the north. For three days they followed the long cloud of dust that seemed to precede them. By the end of the seventeenth day on the savanna, Drakis could see that the clouds of dust they had been following ended at a brown knob too distant for them to make out any detail.
When Belag left on his evening hunt, he promised to hunt in that direction and report on what he saw over their breakfast.
Drakis waited from dawn of the following day to hear Belag’s report.
The manticore did not return.
CHAPTER 32
“You’ve killed us, Drakis!” Mala screamed, her fists flailing against him as he tried desperately to restrain her without doing her any harm. He was finding it impossible to do either. “
All reason had fled from Mala. The despair and anger that she had pushed down behind a wall of apathy from the first step they had taken into Vestasia now exploded in a senseless rush of blind anger and rage focused on Drakis.
She shoved at him, pushing herself away and staggering back onto the trampled grass where they had all spent the night. Drakis was keenly aware of the audience around them. Ethis stood with both sets of arms folded across his chest, detached and observant. Jugar looked as though he were enjoying a play that was being enacted for his benefit, while RuuKag was openly enjoying Drakis being ridiculed and shamed by his supposed mate. The Lyric, at least, was paying no attention whatsoever.
Mala glared at Drakis. “I’ve walked for days. .
Drakis breathed in deeply, reining in his own rage and embarrassment. “Mala, this isn’t the time for this. You just need to. .”
“No!” Mala shouted back, running one hand in frustration back from her forehead through the red hair that was now nearly an inch long. “I do
Drakis let out his breath and gazed up into the sky.
He could feel their eyes on him, waiting.
“Fine,” he said at last, a cheek muscle twitching as he spoke.
“What?” Mala said between clenched teeth.
“Fine. You’re right.” He was not looking at her, his gaze fixed on a horizon of his own choosing. “I did it all,
