“No, it shouldn’t.” L’zar stared straight ahead and picked up the pace. “We’re running out of time a lot more quickly than I expected.”
Chapter Seventeen
After fighting off the tainted skaxen, the group’s mood was considerably dampened. Even Lumil and Byrd agreed to an unvoiced truce and didn’t nag each other as they moved up into the mountains. The path rose steadily, and the mood only worsened.
L’zar eventually led them off the path and through the mountains in a direction only he knew. They passed a small pond in a clearing, but it was filled with the same oozing black sludge, every tree and bush and blade of grass around it shriveled into blackened husks. Farther on, a flock of strangely squawking birds dove toward them from the sky, intent on attacking despite hardly being able to fly straight. Their bloated bodies smacked into tree trunks and overhanging branches, throwing some of them off course or to the ground. Most of the birds exploded on impact, raining bird parts and chunks of sludge. Those on the ground flapped around miserably, croaking in denial of their circumstances before Cheyenne put them out of their misery.
“That’s probably the only good way to handle it,” Ember muttered, staring at bird carcasses oozing black sludge. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I’m not.” Cheyenne trudged after the others, gritting her teeth. “I want to figure out how to stop this while we still can.”
The next time the group came upon a village, they were cautious of approaching too close. The magicals living up here in huts in the mountains weren’t blighted like the skaxens at the transport station, though it took longer than it should have to discern that the dark smudges on their faces and bodies were from dirt instead of the cursed ooze eating away at Ambar’ogúl.
“If we’re moving farther away from Hangivol into the Outers,” Cheyenne muttered as they passed the village, “how did those magicals skip out on getting infected?”
Corian shook his head, warily eyeing the troll youngsters staring at him from where they sat on the ground in front of the village’s adults. “Doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for this, and we can’t afford to assume there is one.”
A troll elder hobbled toward the strangers, squinting so harshly her scarlet eyes practically disappeared within the folds of her wrinkled violet skin. She thrust a finger toward L’zar and moved it between him and Cheyenne. “Black spirit you bringin’ out to us, nah. Keep movin’. Keep out them no-light wadeen.”
With a hiss, the old troll waved the travelers away, shouting after them in a combination of the Outers dialect and old O’gúleesh Cheyenne didn’t try to understand. She stepped toward Corian and looked over her shoulder at the entire troll village staring after them. “I’m guessing there’s some story about drow being evil spirits.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Just O’gúleesh so far removed from civilization, they’ve forgotten what a drow is.”
“For real?”
“You saw the inner city, kid. All the drow holed up close to the Crown and the Heart. Drow aren’t freely roaming around in the Outers anymore. Not like they ever did in large numbers, but it’s obviously been a lot longer for this tribe.”
Maleshi fell behind the party and stopped, facing the old troll head-on and spreading her arms in supplication. “Do you know me, Grandmother?”
The troll elder scoffed, her long, washed-out scarlet braids swinging over her shoulders. “Ha! Nightstalkers lookin’ like all the same, dem, yeh. I know one pushed mine out far back in these hills. Now we pushin’ yours, yeh. Run quick. These pups want nothin’ with claws and hush-hush lyin’. Shoo!”
The general swept her gaze over the three dozen trolls staring silently at her, many with fearful curiosity in their eyes but most of them with pure hatred. Pressing a hand to her heart, Maleshi gave the old troll woman a small bow, then hurried to catch up with the others.
Cheyenne didn’t notice Maleshi had fallen behind until the nightstalker stepped in line beside her as the party followed L’zar up the next rise into the mountains. “Why’d you stop?”
“Just to talk.” The general grimaced and clenched her fists. “I’ve seen that old troll before.”
“What?”
“Long time ago, kid. Not long enough for me to forget the tattoos on her arms. Apparently long enough for her to forget my face.”
“Who is she?”
“A hell of a fighter, that’s for sure.” Maleshi cleared her throat and took one last look at the edge of the village through the trees behind them. “I don’t know her name. I should, though, shouldn’t I? I’m the reason her tribe’s all the way out here.”
Ember floated along quickly behind them. “I know General Hi’et comes with a long line of titles and honors, but I’m sure your leaving this world for Earth doesn’t make you responsible for what’s happening on this side.”
The nightstalker smiled bitterly. “I am well aware of that, Ember, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I am responsible for this specifically.”
Cheyenne stared at Maleshi’s profile and waited for the general to keep going. She’ll say more. She wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t want to talk about it.
“I can feel you staring at me, kid.”
“I can feel you about to explode, General.”
Maleshi snorted. “Maybe. After Ba’rael turned the new Cycle, she didn’t waste any time putting all her grand plans into action. I served the Crown back then. Got my orders and carried them out unquestioningly, not thinking about what kind of Crown would give those kinds of orders.”
Up ahead, Corian cleared his throat without turning around to look at them. “We all had our parts to play.”
“Oh, sure. And I played mine very well. That’s not an excuse.”
“Whatever it was,” Ember said, “it can’t have been that bad. The magicals in
