Lakhoni (34 page)

“My
servants?” The king spat the words. “They’ve been scattered by your murderers.
Shelu is not my servant!”

“But
he is trusted by your foolish people. When Shelu returns to the city with me,
your trusted aide, bringing your disaffected people back to the fold, your
sheep will believe anything he says.” The Bonaha stepped close to the king,
staring into his face. “Remember, Zyron, the victors write the history.”

The
king sputtered. Even from a distance of eight or so paces, Lakhoni saw the
desperation in the king’s eyes. “But I don’t have the Guide! My traitorous
brother stole both the Guide and the Sword when he ran off with that harlot!”

“I
know. And Shelu, my good friend, found and punished them. And I know he brought
the Guide to you. On my orders.”

What
the king had just said registered with the impact of a lightning strike. His
brother?

All
in a moment, Lakhoni understood the truth. The king’s voice and face—so
familiar. Not a coincidence. A storm had exploded around him, violent winds
buffeting him on all sides. For a long minute, maybe more, Lakhoni felt as if
he were spinning in place. He heard more talking, then a voice raised, but couldn’t
listen.

Why
hadn’t his father ever told him? Did Alronna know the truth of their father?
That the king was their uncle?

Lakhoni
blinked, forcing his focus back to the scene in front of him. Not the king. It
had never been the king. No, that wasn’t right. The king had been sending Shelu
out, but the Bonaha had been Shelu’s true master.

It
was the Bonaha that deserved Lakhoni’s justice. And the king deserved his—

“Death
is easy, Zyron,” the Bonaha cried out. “We will find all of your servants and guards
that were out here with you and the truth will be what we make it. Your story
on the records of our people will end with a servant. The king who was murdered
by his own servant.” He nodded at Gimno.

In
a smooth, almost beautiful movement, Gimno drew his long obsidian dagger and
cut the king down.

Lakhoni
stared. The king! Falling to the ground. His uncle. He turned his gaze to the
Bonaha. The Bonaha watched the king die, a small smile on his face.

“Such
a fascinating thing, to watch life leave a body,” the Bonaha said. He nudged
the king’s limp form with a toe. He turned, disappointment written clearly on
his small, round face. “The army will surround the city soon. Let us enter
before the people begin to panic. The others will find the stragglers.”

The
party mounted horses that three halkeen
brought out from the forest.
With Gimno and Shelu leading and the Bonaha in the middle of the group, they
galloped toward the city.

Lakhoni
had to get to the city, get to Alronna, before the Bonaha and the others.
Mentally kicking himself for not rescuing her earlier, he broke into a run. He
had to stay out of sight and ahead of the approaching army of Living Dead. He
wished he could stop and do something for the fallen king.
Uncle Zyron
.
But there was no time.

As
the south walls of the city came into view, Lakhoni had to squint to see what
looked different. The wide doorway—it somehow appeared to be moving. No, it was
narrowing. The massive gates were closing. Just as Lakhoni ran within shouting
distance of the walls, a dog shot past him, tearing into the city. Chel.

Lakhoni
ran hard toward the now thin opening.

A
soldier moved to bar him, arms spread wide. “Stop.”

“Let
me in! We’re under attack! An army!” Lakhoni gasped.

“Shelu
told us the dog-servants killed the king,” the soldier said.

Confusion
exploded in Lakhoni. What? Why would they—It didn’t matter. He had to get in.
“Yes! And they’re leading the army here! It’s the Living Dead.” He injected as
much fear into his voice as he could.

“The
Living Dead?” The soldier stepped back, stunned. Lakhoni darted around him,
slipping through the narrow opening into the city. “You have to close the
gates!”

One
of the soldiers on the wall yelled at the still paralyzed soldier on the ground.
“Move it!”

As
Lakhoni jogged toward the king’s compound, a deep rumble struck, as if thunder
had rolled through the earth beneath his feet. He glanced over his shoulder.
Both sides of the gate were closed now. Soldiers worked frantically, sliding thick
wood beams into notched cavities on each side of the portal, effectively
creating another wall on this side of the now closed gates.

At
the same time as all of this was happening, soldiers ran everywhere, strapping
on belts and swords. Shouts filled the air as the streets emptied of citizens.

In
the tumult, Lakhoni made out the words “Invaders” and “Usurpers.”

He
glanced backward. The soldiers on the top of the wall were lifting a thick,
incredibly heavy-looking beam. It must have been carved out of a massive,
single tree. Using ropes and brute strength, they got the beam standing on one
end. With shouts and grunts, they inched the beam to the a spot right above the
center of the gates and—

A
heavy rasping sound that sent shivers across his skin accompanied the beam as
it slid into place
between
the stone blocks that served as gates. Then
another loud thud shook the ground. Lakhoni paused and stared. With the beam
snugly in place in those grooves in the stone blocks, the gates were as locked
closed as anything you could imagine. They should only be able to be opened by
either a massive force—
the power of the First Fathers . . .
maybe
—or if someone removed the locking beam. He broke into a run again.
Nobody’s
getting through that. Except the Bonaha doesn’t have to—he’s already made it
through.

His
stomach became tight knots when he came into view of Victor’s Plaza.

Hundreds
of soldiers ran in small groups, some hauling loads of weapons and others
dashing toward the nearest staircase up to the top of the walls. All of them
bristled with spears and daggers. Some of them carried vicious stone axes with
cruelly pointed and curving hooks on the back of the axe heads. Other weapons
that Lakhoni had never seen adorned some of the bigger soldiers. These looked like
they had been carved from tree trunks. One end tapered to a handle. The other
end appeared to have been charred to the solidness of stone and bristled with
obsidian spikes. The biggest soldier carried two of these weapons crossed on
his back.

Swimming
through the crowd, Lakhoni had the impression of moving through a forest of
people—all in furious motion. A distinct odor of people, dirt, and something
sharp that carried a feeling of fear struck him. He was bumped hard several
times before he made it into the temple compound.

Soldiers
strode about on every level of balcony of the temple, with one soldier standing
at rapt attention on each corner. He noticed that they were all looking in the
same direction: toward the south gate. Where he had just come from. Without
meaning to, he spun and looked back down the road. There was no way for him to
see the gate, or what lay beyond.

Lakhoni
flew through the temple compound doorway, dodging the soldiers and servants,
and headed to the dogs’ area. As he reached the back of the compound, soldiers
emerged from the stables, leading huge, saddled horses. Horses. Titan. Was Ree
back? Was she somewhere in the forest?
Ree, my cousin.
The world had
changed completely.
Fathers, keep her safe.

The
dog building and corral were empty. No dogs had come home. What were Balon and
Falon and Cho doing? Were they still hiding in the forest? Were they waiting
for him to come back? He hoped he could find them after he rescued Alronna.

He
slammed into the building, bowling over Master Kalu. The Master shouted
protests, but Lakhoni could spare him no time. He made for the room at the back
and grabbed his pouch, shoving his dagger into it and slinging it across his
chest.

Back
in the kitchen, he grabbed a handful of flat breads, shoving most of them into
his pouch but using one of them to scoop stew out of the pot over the fire. He
inhaled the food.

“Boy, what’s happening?”
Master Kalu’s labored breathing grated on Lakhoni’s skin.

Speaking
around the food, Lakhoni made up a quick story. “We’re under attack and one of
the soldiers gave me a job. I have to clean out the stables or something.” He
forced the hot food down his throat “He’s waiting for me.” Lakhoni scooped
another huge pile of thick stuff into his mouth, chewing fast.

He
spotted a block of hard cheese sitting atop a stone box. He snaked out a hand,
snagging the cheese and shoving it in his bag.

“But
why are you stealing this food?” Master Kalu trundled toward him.

“The
soldier told me to gather food.” Lakhoni slammed the door behind him. Not
wasting a moment, he lifted a crate that held strips of leather. Balancing the
crate on his shoulder, he hunched over a little, wanting to blend into the
crowds of people.

Bread
and cheese were better than nothing for the journey he and Alronna were to
take. He darted toward the slave barracks, seeking his center. Even with his
head down, he had no trouble observing the goings-on around him. The horses had
disappeared and most of the soldiers were out of sight now too. Servants and
slaves still ran every which way, many of their faces tight with fear.

Casting
one final look around, Lakhoni set the crate down and slipped into the slave
barracks. When his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he saw that many faces
were staring at him. He turned to the room on the left. “Sorry,” he said, his
hand out as if to calm the scared-looking women. No, some of them were just
girls. “I’m here for Alronna.”

Confused
expressions were the only response.

Lakhoni
shook his head. Where was she? His heart dropped, feeling like a fist had
suddenly gripped it. “Okay, is there a Ronna?”

She
wasn’t here. He dashed to the other room. “Ronna. Have you seen Ronna?”

The
fist around his heart clenched tighter. His breath came in painful bursts.
“Where is she?”

A
small voice came from the first room. “She’s gone.”

Lakhoni
ran back. He was so close. She had to be here.

The
huddled slaves stared at him. One of them met his eyes more bravely than the
others.

“What
did you say?” Lakhoni asked.

“Ronna
was taken.” The slave, she couldn’t be much older than ten, dipped her head.
“The devil took her.”

A
new fear gripped his heart. Was she— “What do you mean? The devil?”

“Shelu.
He took her. Last night.”

Lakhoni
could now make out bruises on the slave girl’s face and arms. “Last night? He
took her? Where?”

“Don’t
know,” the girl said. Her eyes didn’t leave the floor.

“Why?”
Even as he asked, he knew there would be no answer. “Did he say anything?” He
scanned the slaves’ faces frantically. Maybe the girl was wrong. Maybe Alronna
was still—

“Something
about the time coming. No.” She shook her head. “No, he said that the time had
come.” Now the slave girl looked up. “That’s all.”

The
time had come?

“That’s
all he said?” Lakhoni asked.

“Yes.”
The girl fixed him with a curious gaze. “Who are you?”

Shelu
and the Bonaha had the Guide. And now they had his sister. If they had the
Sword, or knew where to find it somehow, they wouldn’t need Alronna anymore.

He
met the slave’s stare. “I’m her brother.” Lakhoni spun on his heel, forcing
himself to recall each moment of training with the Living Dead.

Shelu
was right; the time had come. Time for him to find Alronna, and perhaps serve
justice on some murderers.