Brishen needed to know what was happening at the old Kai capital and possibly organize a brigade of workers to deepen, widen, and reinforce those canals. And if the Kai wouldn't do it, Serovek would find a Beladine who would. He'd redirect the entire mighty Absu until Haradis drowned under her waters if necessary. Such an act might start a war between his country and Brishen's, but dealing with the galla exacted a greater price. Friendships throughout history had been tested by difficult decisions. Some survived, some didn't. One lived with the consequences of doing what was necessary.
Snores and muttered bits of dreams from his comrades surrounded him. Sleep didn't elude them as it did him. Serovek abandoned his observation of the stars to regard Anhuset where she lay on her side away from him, a long silhouette. He'd never forget her expression when she gazed upon Haradis, wrecked by the galla.
He'd always considered her a fiercely beautiful woman, even with the yellow eyes and intimidating teeth. His first sight of her had stopped him in his tracks, and he'd gawked like a young lad while she bent a contemptuous scowl on him. Everything about her fascinated him, and despite the emotional armor she wore, even more difficult to penetrate than that made of leather and steel, he'd swear before any and all that underneath was a woman as vulnerable as she was powerful. He'd glimpsed that vulnerability as they stood before Haradis's broken gates. It had taken colossal effort not to reach out and draw her into his embrace, to offer some token of sympathy or comfort.
She would have broken his arms for his presumption. Instead, he'd waited beside her as she rode out the shockwave of grief. Later, practically drunk on relief at escaping the city still alive, he'd dared to kiss her palm. Those claws of hers would have shredded his cheek with a single swipe had she wished to harm him. Her hand had been cool on his face, the skin toughened in places with calluses. Not the delicate palm of a pampered lady, but one of a warrior who wielded sword and spear and carried a shield.
What would it be like, he wondered, to gain sha-Anhuset's affection? That unswerving devotion she gifted to Brishen and, by association, to his wife Ildiko?
He put aside the question and other useless pondering about the enigmatic Kai woman and closed his eyes. An image of the stray galla in all its shadowy madness rode along the edges of slumber, making him shiver. Somehow the monk, tortured and flensed on an iron web by a mob of the demonic, had broken free and become a hunter of his torturers.
Serovek hadn't given any thought to the death awaiting him when he used himself as bait to give Anhuset a slim chance of safely reaching the canals. He'd simply reacted. Thank the gods she'd cut off his noble, reckless gesture at the knees by chasing after him, then dragging him into the fountain's stagnant waters. But it had been Megiddo who'd ultimately saved them both. Could they do no less for him? Do more than just leave his body at the monastery and be on their merry way? The question grated against Serovek's soul until sleep finally overtook him.
The two crafts continued their way up the Absu's tributary the following day, traveling toward the territories troubled by the warlord Chamtivos. Serovek stood with his men at one end of the boat. Anhuset was not among them. She remained where she'd bedded down the night before, still fast asleep. He'd chosen not to wake her to break her fast or join this meeting. She already knew of his plan; they'd discussed the details on the trek back to the landing. After several days with minimal sleep, she needed the rest, and he needed her alert for the remainder of the journey.
Earlier, he'd enjoyed a smoke from his pipe and watched from a spot nearby as Ogran passed Anhuset, paused, and walked backwards to stand beside her. He slid a foot toward her slumbering form as if to shove her awake.
Serovek lowered his pipe. “Ogran,” he warned in a soft voice. The tracker froze. “Unless you want your head used as fish bait and your entrails decorating the barge, I suggest you rethink that idea.”
Ogran gave a careless shrug before continuing on his way to where his comrades sat with the crew for their morning meal. Serovek eyed him now, standing apart from the others as he usually did, a faint sneer on his mouth and his eyes constantly shifting from one person to the next without ever meeting their gazes.
Had he always possessed such a sly mien, or had Anhuset's suspicion influenced the way Serovek viewed him? Ogran had never given him or his commanders any trouble in the years he'd served at High Salure, and his tracking skills had come in handy numerous times. Serovek had brought him on this trip because of those talents. Ogran's surly manner was of no concern to him as long as the man didn't stir discord among the other soldiers or display insubordination. The tracker had done neither so far, though he obviously disliked Anhuset. The Kai woman, as brusque in her own way as Ogran, wouldn't care if some human disapproved of her, so her questions stemmed from something else, something more worrisome.
He didn't have the luxury of mulling over the idea long. A brief recounting of their adventure in Haradis and the encounter with the galla left him fielding numerous questions all focused on just how effective the canals were in keeping the thing and any of its ilk trapped in the city.
“They've trapped the galla so far. Who knows how long it's been lurking in there. No reason to think it can get out now, especially if there's some ghost or guardian making sure it doesn't get out.” He hadn't divulged his belief in the idea of Megiddo manifesting as the
