Down a Lost Road (32 page)

I hugged the slope, walking slow and wary
toward the post. I couldn’t see anything at all. No one standing,
no silhouettes against the bobbing lights beyond…no one lying down.
I came to the place where the skirmish had happened – it was
windless here and the churned sand still showed signs of the
battle.

And there, buried to the hilt, was Yatol’s
knife.

My eyes blurred so badly that I could barely
see it. I pulled it from the sand and dusted it off, the tears
streaming down my face. It was bloodied, but not on the blade. Not
from any wound it had inflicted. The blood had trickled down from
the hilt and pooled around the crossguard, leaving the edge and
length of the blade spotless. I hugged it to my chest, sobbing.
Forced myself to my feet.

Yatol
. Where had they taken him? I
found myself in their camp. No tents. Bonfires. Why were they all
sitting around the fires? They couldn’t possibly be cold.
Oh
God, where did they take him?

Toward the center of the camp a cluster of
Ungulion stood in a ring. They were the only ones standing.
Chanting. Their arms stretched out to the center of their
circle.

No.

I stumbled into a run, still holding Yatol’s
knife gleaming in my hand.

The drone grew louder, lower, more intense.
Rotted fingers curled rhythmically as if they were picking
something apart. My hands started shaking with rage. Blood pounded
in my face. I sprinted the rest of the way, shoving two of the
Ungulion out of my way as I reached their circle.

“
Stop!” I shouted, holding
out the knife to ward them away, then murmured, “Stop,” and dropped
to my knees beside Yatol.

The Ungulion drew back. The chanting broke
off, dissolving into a wailing, seething voice. It seemed to come
from all directions, like a single voice echoed a hundred times
over.

“
She bears the blade!” the
voice sobbed. “The Blade of Heaven! Take it from her! Take the
blade!”

They writhed and flinched away from me. I
stared at them in confusion, gripping the blade more tightly. An
Ungulion tried to snatch it from me, but without thinking I lashed
out and struck him in the hand. I didn’t see it cut him, but a
sudden pain shot through me. My scream of anguish melded with his.
Clutching his hand, he turned and fled.

Feeling braver, I brandished the knife at
the others. And as I did I saw the blood seeping from my fingers
and palm, trickling down the hilt. I nearly dropped the blade in
horror. But the shadow was pressing over me again, the circle
reforming and drawing in closer. I hardened my clutch.

“
Take the
blade…”

“
Leave him alone!” I
screamed, whirling around.

I lunged at the nearest Ungulion, striking
out in a blind fury. I must have hit him somewhere, because the
pain renewed in my arm, shooting up toward my spine. I ignored
it.

“
They’ve come, they’ve
come!” the voice cried, and the whole plaintive drone renewed in a
chaos of hate and fury.

I drew my arm back. The Ungulion nearest me
wasn’t looking at me anymore – his gaze fixed on the dunes. Through
all the wailing I heard a sharp, high-pitched whine, and then there
was an arrow piercing his breast. He slumped to his knees, frozen
as stone.

Another fell, and another, and the whole of
the Ungulion force began to mobilize. I couldn’t see anyone on the
ridges. The spears and arrows seemed to materialize out of the
darkness. And then somewhere I heard a voice calling, clear and
deep.

“
Mer, run! Run while we
have them!”

“
Damian?” I whispered,
taking a half-step forward.

I couldn’t see him, and didn’t dare call out
his name. But it didn’t matter. He was all right…for now.

I ran back to Yatol. In my panic I didn’t
even look at him, didn’t bother trying to wake him or see how he
was injured. I shoved the knife back into its sheath and grabbed
his arms, hauling with all my might. I managed to drag him a few
short inches and nearly gave up, until I realized that not all of
the Ungulion were ignoring us. From the corner of my eye I saw a
small group circling toward us. And there, farther away, was
another – taller than the others, darker somehow. He turned toward
us. I couldn’t see his face, but visceral terror seized me. I
reeled with panic, tugging desperately on Yatol’s arms.

“
Please, Yatol,” I
whispered. “Wake up.”

But he just lay there, skin ashen, face
quiet. With the strength that terror lends I dragged him a full
foot and a half, but it was as far as I could go. My hands went
weak, losing their grip on his sleeves. Some strange dizziness
seeped over me, and my vision blurred. The group of Ungulion
reached us, surrounded us. And before I knew what was happening,
one had slung Yatol over his back and another swept me up
effortlessly. I froze, paralyzed with shock.

“
Will you not struggle?”
the Ungulion hissed.

What?
On a sudden impulse I writhed
against his grip, trying to slither out of his arms. He held me
fast while the whole group rushed toward the rear of the camp. I
fought the entire time. The Ungulion
wanted
me to fight. But
I didn’t have the energy to escape, and for some reason I didn’t
think I needed to. Soon we reached the darkness, and they deposited
us on the ground.

“
We followed Elekeo till
the end,” my captor murmured, his voice like the rasp of sand in
the wind. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. “We would see
no harm come to you. Take him swiftly. Do not let our sacrifice be
in vain.”

They disappeared back into the camp,
striking out ruthlessly against the other Ungulion. I wondered
briefly if the taller one had lost interest in us, but didn’t stop
to check. I picked myself up and grabbed Yatol’s arms again. The
sand shifted stubbornly beneath my feet with every step, churning
up billows of dust that choked my throat and burned my eyes. It
coated Yatol’s face and arms with a film of sand that made his
already pale face even ghastlier.

I managed to pull him well away from the
border of the camp, but by then the strength in my arms and legs
gave out entirely and I dropped onto the ground beside him. I just
sat and stared at him, numb. Couldn’t think. Saw the sand on his
skin tinged red, but couldn’t see any wounds. I didn’t really
expect to. When I finally gathered my wits, I felt for a pulse at
his wrist. If he had one, it was too faint for my unskilled fingers
to find. I swallowed and tried to find the pulse in his neck.

A hand grabbed my arm. I jerked back in
terror before realizing that it was his. It flexed a little,
tightening unintentionally. Before I could cry out in pain his grip
slackened, but he kept hold of my arm as he strained to open his
eyes. He fixed his gaze on me, his lips parting, but couldn’t force
a voice.

“
I told you to run,” he
gasped finally. “Why did you come back?”

“
What is the Blade of
Heaven?”

His eyes widened, startled, and he struggled
to sit up.

“
What did you say?” He let
go of my arm, but grabbed both my hands to inspect them. “You
didn’t…did you strike them? How did we get here? What
happened?”

“
Don’t be alarmed…” I
closed my eyes. “Just rest now…just rest…”

“
Merelin!”

He seized my shoulders and shook me roughly.
My eyelids fluttered open, and I managed to scowl at him. He
fumbled in the pouch at his belt, but I didn’t see what he pulled
out of it. The dim light from the camp faded.

Vaguely I felt him catch me, then the
familiar thick, acrid taste spilled over my tongue and down my
throat. I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face.

“
You too, Yatol. Drink some
too.”

“
I’m all right,” he said.
“Don’t worry, Merelin. I know my strength.”

“
You took some earlier,
didn’t you? You’re sure you’re all right for now?”

He nodded.

“
You’re not angry with
me?”

There was a brief silence, then he said,
“You’re strong. A little reckless, but I admire that.” He smiled
gently. “I can’t be angry with you. I thank you with all my
heart.”

“
I only did what I could,”
I said, cheeks burning. “I didn’t do anything at all, really. But
the Ungulion seemed afraid of the knife, so I tried to keep them
away from you. I hit one, or maybe two, because they kept trying to
get it away from me. Then…”

I spun around to look at the camp. It still
seethed with a chaos of activity, and I couldn’t make out what was
happening. But I glimpsed a group of Ungulion pacing the perimeter,
still some distance away.

“
Then what?” Yatol
prompted. His eyes followed the Ungulion, too, measuring their
stride.

“
I think Damian was there.
I heard his voice – he told me to run. There must have been a few
of them. They had arrows and spears, and it distracted the
Ungulion. So I tried to pull you away…” I could tell the idea
amused him. “I tried! And then some Ungulion came, but they saved
us. They picked us up and carried us out here and then went back to
fight against the others. I wouldn’t have made it this far without
them.”

For a moment we sat in silence. I watched
his face closely, trying to read in its steady features some
whisper of his thought. But he only gazed quietly out across the
sands. He seemed utterly beyond me at that moment, and I sighed
unhappily. The sound stirred him, and he met my gaze with a faint
smile.

“
Can you run a little
longer now?” He gestured behind him. “We’re nearly
there!”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Will
Damian and the others be all right?”

“
They’ll put up a sound
fight until we’ve gotten away, then I imagine they will
retreat.”

He got up and smiled down at me again, more
encouragingly. His face looked so wan, pale and strained, but his
eyes shone with an intense and disconcerting light. He didn’t help
me up, but when I got to my feet he turned and set off at a jog.
But he hadn’t run ten steps before he stumbled, and collapsed
unmoving on the sand.

Chapter 23 – Truth and Myth

I didn’t scream when he fell. I didn’t say a
word, and I didn’t even cry. I ran to his side and stood staring
down at him, mute and numb. I saw him lying prostrate, stone still
at first, his face cradled by the earth. I saw him blink rapidly
and fiercely, saw his hands clutch vainly at the shapeless sand. I
saw his chest rise and fall with deep, raking gasps, empty rattling
breaths like air drawn through a torn bellows. And I just stood and
stared.

Then something snapped, and I spun around
desperately searching the empty sky.

“
Help!” I cried once, then
again, but my voice was swallowed in glum darkness.

I dropped to my knees beside him and tried
to lift him off the sand. Finally I managed to drag him into a
half-sitting position, but his eyes were closed now and his head
sagged. I called out again, but when the darkness didn’t fade and
no voice answered, I shut my eyes and made my plea silently in my
heart. The darkness brooded over us. I clung to Yatol and bowed my
head from the blindness.

Time froze.

“
Take heart,
child.”

A voice, gentle, scarce more than a
whisper.

I opened my eyes, felt the breeze cold on my
tear-stained cheeks. All around us the air shimmered with a rainbow
of radiance. I lowered Yatol onto the sand and backed slowly away.
They gathered around him – Mykyl and Akhmar, Stitista and many
others whose names I didn’t know.

I thought I heard one of them say, “It is
not yet your time.”

They formed a circle of light around him,
and faint but pure in the bright stillness came a melancholy
strain. I could hear each voice distinctly, yet they wove together
in perfect harmony. Their forms blurred into a pool of color,
dazzling my tear-brimmed eyes. The song rose until it felt as if
the entire world sang, then suddenly it was gone. All of the
Brethren were gone. Yatol alone remained, standing straight and
still with his hands open at his sides and head bowed.

I stood frozen, bewildered. And Yatol seemed
utterly oblivious to me, to himself. When I thought he would never
move, he seemed to come into himself, or out of himself, and he
lifted his head. I backed a step. His eyes were fire and his whole
face shone, while some radiance surged from the palms of his hands.
The fire seemed to consume him, and then it vanished and he
collapsed onto one knee.