Balestone (2 page)

“What are you doing up there?” she said in disbelief.

The creature chirped happily, then leaped forward, landing lightly on the rump of one the horses. It scurried along the horse’s back and then launched itself toward Lexi from the heavy harness across the horse’s shoulders. Lexi’s hands came up to catch the animal. It was purely reflex, and the animal landed gracefully in her hands, then immediately slid down her arm and onto her shoulder, where it nestled in close to her neck, cooing softly.

“Alright, alright,” Lexi laughed. “You can come with me, but we’ve got to find our way back to the camp. I’m afraid I’m pretty lost.”

The little creature cried softly, as if it understood exactly what Lexi was saying. She kept the horses moving despite the fact that they were tired. Lexi was tired, too, but she felt the weight of responsibility for the tribe and for Rafe growing heavier with each step. She couldn’t give up on her mission or give in to the temptation to stop and rest. She had to find the others, no matter what.

The little animal sat up on her shoulder, looking across the prairie anxiously.

“What should I call you?” Lexi said. “Maybe you could be Dancer.”

As soon as she said the name she felt a buzzing sensation in her head. She stopped walking and stood still, afraid that she was coming down with the sickness that had affected the Hoskali tribe and her friends. She felt dizzy for a moment and held out a hand to steady herself against the side of the wagon. The buzzing subsided, and she shook her head to clear the dizziness.

Dancer perched on Lexi’s shoulder, sometimes stroking her face with its tail. They had been walking for nearly an hour when Dancer jumped off Lexi’s shoulder. The little creature stretched all four legs out away from its furry body, revealing skin that stretched between the limbs and allowed the small creature to glide down to the ground.

Lexi was shocked. At first she thought the little creature was running away and she felt a pang of sadness. But when Dancer landed gracefully on the ground, it turned and began jumping up and down, over and over.

Leaving the horses to their own devices, she hurried over to where Dancer was excitedly waiting for her. She bent low, and Dancer jumped onto Lexi’s knee and then climbed up her side, back, and finally onto her shoulder again. Lexi felt a wave of relief, but then she noticed something. The mossy grass seemed smashed down just in front of her. It wasn’t a wide track, just a slight indention in the soft turf about as wide as her hand. She looked and could see the track running to her right and left. Lexi stood up, but the track was harder to see. She went back to the wagon and bent down behind it. The wagon wheels were making an identical track, and she felt a thrill of excitement.

“Dancer!” she said loudly. “You found the trail.”

The little creature trilled happily. Lexi snatched the animal off her shoulder and gave it a kiss on top of its little head. Then, without really thinking about what she was doing, she tossed the little animal high into the air. As soon as she did it, she felt a stab of panic. She had been exuberant, but she hadn’t meant to scare the animal. Only Dancer didn’t seem afraid. Instead it spread its legs again and was lifted even higher in the air by a gust of wind. On the ground, the air in the blighted lands rarely stirred, but Dancer was so light that Lexi had easily tossed the little animal high enough that it caught an air current.

Lexi watched in awe as the little creature flew up higher and higher into the amber sky. Dancer was just a small blob of color against the bright mists high above, and Lexi feared that the little creature would fall. But Dancer was sailing on the currents, and after several minutes Lexi realized the little animal wasn’t coming back down. She returned to the trail Dancer had found and looked both ways, trying to decide which direction to take. She had found the trail, but she didn’t know which direction led back to the tribe and which led to the river.

A wave of dizziness came over Lexi again, and she closed her eyes. To her utter surprise, with her eyes closed, she could still see. Only she wasn’t seeing things from her perspective; she was seeing what Dancer saw. The immense prairie spread out beneath her, and Lexi felt as if she might fall from a great height, even though she could still feel the ground beneath her feet. She could see the wagon and even the trail left by the wagon. Everything was so clear beneath her — she could even see individual strands of hair on her own head, swaying softly as she tried to steady herself far below.

It was unsettling to see things from two perspectives. Lexi felt her stomach begin to convulse and she was afraid she was going to be sick. She thought for a second that perhaps she was hallucinating. Perhaps she was ill. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she was sick and not really leading the wagon back to the camp at all. She could be lying somewhere dreaming everything.

Then she saw, as Dancer looked far into the distance, a smudge on the horizon. There was smoke and movement, although it was much too far away to make out. It was the Hoskali camp, she realized, and suddenly her vision flashed back to normal. She blinked and she could see everything from her own perspective. The nausea quickly passed, and Lexi looked up. Dancer was descending in slow circles. Lexi didn’t know what had happened, but she knew the little animal had revealed what it could see to her. And she also knew Dancer was coming back, although she had no idea how she knew it.

Lexi went back to the horses and urged them on. She was following the trail she’d made the day before and she felt a sense of hope that she hadn’t dared dream of since the night before. Rafe moaned in the back of the wagon, and the horses whinnied softly as they plodded along, but Lexi felt as light as a dandelion seed floating on its puffy white parachute. She was hopeful for the first time since the illness had struck down Tiberius, and as she walked along, Dancer came twirling down to land lightly on her shoulder.

Chapter 2

Thirst was the first thing that came to Tiberius’ mind. He had been asleep but not dreaming. He had been in the dark void of sickness, but that ailment was passing, and now he was waking up. His tongue felt thick, and his body ached. There was a horrible throb in his head, and the amber-colored daylight of the blighted lands leached in through his thin eyelids. He raised his hand, but it felt heavy, as he covered his eyes.

“You’re awake?” Olyva said.

She bent over him and blocked the light. For a moment Tiberius’ eyes fluttered open, and he could see Olyva’s face. She was noble-born and beautiful, with high cheekbones, large eyes, and thick brown hair that was now held back with a simple ribbon.

“Thirsty,” he said, his voice cracking with the effort.

“I know,” Olyva said. “I’ll give you a little water, but there isn’t much left that isn’t tainted.”

“Lexi?” Tiberius asked.

“She’s gone for more water. She should be back soon. Rafe’s with her.”

Tiberius felt a stab of fear, as if some wickedly cruel being were lancing his heart with an invisible needle. He was weak and sick, which made him long for Lexi in a way he’d never imagined. He loved her and wanted to be with her. Normally he wanted to share everything with Lexi, but being ill made him feel the need to have her close by. It was like being underwater, holding his breath and longing to rise up and fill his lungs with fresh air.

Olyva lifted Tiberius’ head and held a wooden cup to his lips. Tepid water touched his lips and tongue. It was the sweetest thing Tiberius could ever remember tasting. He drank the contents of the cup greedily.

“That’s all I can spare,” Olyva said. “At least until Lexi gets back.”

“What happened?” Tiberius said, rolling over onto his side and raising himself up to a sitting position.

The pain in his head eased as he sat up. His body still ached, but he thought that maybe it was from lying in one position too long, not from the illness. He slowly stretched his arms and legs.

“Everyone is sick,” Olyva said. “Well, almost everyone. Rafe and Lexi weren’t sick when they left yesterday, but almost the entire tribe has fallen ill.”

“From what?” Tiberius asked.

“The water was tainted,” Olyva said. “I should have noticed it, but I didn’t. Someone poisoned the stream. The Rogu think it was Bu’yorgi, but I haven’t seen him or any of the other members of his tribe.”

“The prisoners,” Tiberius said. “Are they sick too?”

“No,” Olyva said bitterly. “And they’ve all escaped. None would stay and help.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost two days,” Olyva said. “But you need to rest. I’ve given everyone as much of the bark water as I can. You would recover faster if I had more, but we can’t be certain the water in the stream isn’t still tainted. We have to wait for Lexi to return.”

“I should help her,” Tiberius said, struggling to get to his feet.

“No,” Olyva said, holding him down gently. “Rafe is with her. She’s safe. But Te’sumee said the closest water supply was a day’s walk. They left yesterday and they should be back soon.”

Tiberius had no idea what time of day it was. In the blighted lands with the thick barrier of mists, the sun was hidden. He couldn’t judge how long Lexi had been gone or how worried he should be about her. There was a note of distress in Olyva’s voice, but Tiberius knew it could be worry for the tribe, not simply worry about Rafe and Lexi.

“Okay,” Tiberius said, easing back down onto his side. “I’ll rest, but wake me when Lexi returns.”

“I will, I promise,” Olyva said.

Tiberius closed his eyes and let sleep sweep him away. He dreamed of a large mountain billowing smoke. Around him were the bones of an entire army, and something was drawing him higher and higher up the mountain, toward the smoke and heat. He couldn’t tell where he was or what was happening, but he knew he had to get to the top. He scratched and clawed his way up the rocky slope, not daring to stop and feeling a sense of dread growing with each step.

He woke with a start as men rushed past him. He felt their heavy footsteps around him, and as he opened his eyes, he could see them rushing into the camp. They were Rogu, each carrying the traditional soft wooden clubs, but they were not Te’sumee’s men. Tiberius wanted to get up and see what was happening, but he instinctively knew not to draw attention to himself.

There was a scream. It was a high-pitched wail, and Tiberius knew it was Olyva. He needed to help her, but he knew how the Rogu raided. If they saw that he was conscious, they would simply club him on the head and knock him senseless. Every fiber of his being seemed to crawl in agony — not over his own distress, but hearing Olyva’s cries for help. He had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what he could do.

Once the runners had all passed, he risked opening his eyes slightly. He could see the amber sky, and around him lay the bodies of the Hoskali, all of them struck down with the same plague that had laid Tiberius low. He moved as slowly as possible. Olyva’s screams had turned into a wretched sobbing. Tiberius did his best not to draw attention to himself. He wasn’t sure how strong his body was. He felt weak, hungry, and most of all terribly thirsty, but his mind was alert and stronger than before.

Turning his head slowly toward the camp, Tiberius saw the enemy Rogu raiding the tents and carts of his own tribe. A few of Te’sumee’s men had tried to fight, but they lay bloody and senseless now, their hands and feet tied securely. Tiberius couldn’t see Olyva, but he could hear her.

“
Abdidi Incantatio
,”
he whispered.

He felt the cloaking spell settle around him like a lightweight, thin bed sheet. He rolled to his hands and knees, careful to keep the cloaking spell centered on him. His muscles felt weak and shaky, but he slowly got to his feet. He could see everything happening now. He was surrounded by sick Hoskali. The entire tribe had been laid out on thin mats where Olyva could look after them. It appeared as though she were the only one of the tribe that was immune to the sickness.

Tiberius made his way toward the camp. The Hoskali word for an enemy raiding party was
Kepsmee
, and the raiders were pulling down tents and kicking over cooking pots. Most of Ti’s tribe had very little valuables, but the enemy Rogu were making a thorough search. A few looked toward him as they ran around the camp, but none stopped or even seemed to notice Tiberius as he walked slowly toward them.

Dizziness made walking difficult, and holding the cloaking spell in place was nearly impossible. He had to stop and wait while his stomach threatened to revolt, but he managed to hold himself together. His only aim was to discover what was happening to Olyva. He would never forgive himself he if let something happen to Rafe’s beloved. He might die trying to save her, but that would be better than living with regret the rest of his life.

The camp was set up near a stream. It was little more than a spring that flowed down a narrow, rocky stream bed, but it had been a reliable source of water for the tribe in a land where water was sometimes hard to find. The camp itself was set up around Tiberius’ large tent in the center. He’d inherited the tent when he and Rafe had defeated Moswanee and became leaders of the tribe. He’d also inherited the Swanee’s wives and possessions. Most of the tribe were simple people, each with skills that helped the group as they roamed across the wide prairie. A select few served as Rogu, the hunters and warriors of the tribe. But Tiberius’ Rogu had been struck down by the same illness as everyone else in the tribe. Everyone except the prisoners that Tiberius and his Rogu had captured when the Kepsmee led by Bu’yorgi had attacked them.

Tiberius realized that Bu’yorgi had planned everything. Perhaps he would have raided and returned to his own tribe if Tiberius hadn’t stopped him, but it was obvious there was a plan of retribution in place. If Bu’yorgi’s men had poisoned the stream to make Tiberius’ tribe sick, then the prisoners must have known not to drink the water. And they couldn’t have known that unless they had been prepared for such a possibility. Tiberius guessed that for a Rogu there could be no worse fate than to be captured by an enemy tribe and forced into slavery doing menial tasks. Still, the tribes lived by an unwritten code of conduct known by every Hoskali, and Bu’yorgi was breaking that code. Tiberius bitterly regretted not having Rafe kill the enemy Velora or champion when they fought in the Tuscogee. Killing Bu’yorgi might not have stopped their plan, but it certainly would have weakened them. Instead, Tiberius had shown mercy, even healing Bu’yorgi’s most grievous wounds. Now, the wicked leader of the enemy tribe was leading his warriors against Tiberius and risking the lives of nearly a hundred innocent women and children.

He made it as far as an overturned cart and leaned heavily against the sturdy wooden wagon. The Hoskali used small carts and oxen to move their possessions from place to place across the great expanse of flat prairie land. The cart wasn’t as large as a traditional wagon, but it was big enough to hide behind. Tiberius kept the cloaking spell in place, although it was becoming harder with every passing moment. The magic had a mind of its own, and Tiberius’ will had bent the ethereal substance to his bidding, but it longed to break free. It was like trying to hold water in his hands without letting it drip away between his fingers.

He could see Olyva now; she was tied to one of Rafe’s spears, which had been thrust deep into the ground. Her hands were bound behind her, and her feet were tied to the spear as well. Worst of all, she was covered with a thick blanket, which seemed to hang heavy on her, heavier than it should have. Tiberius realized it wasn’t the weight of the blanket that was torturing Olyva, but the fact that it blocked her from the sunlight. Olyva needed the sunlight, and at night she was as weak as a child. Now, tied to the makeshift stake, she was bent almost double and sobbing from having been cut off from the source of her strength.

A small group of men were breaking apart a cart and gathering as much of the tamaka dung as they could find. Tiberius realized with a stab of horror what they were planning. Ever since Olyva had nearly been captured by the sentient trees at the foot of Avondale’s mountain, she had been different. She fed on sunlight and had a newfound sense of strength. She could feel changes in the weather and sense vibrations deep within the ground that alerted her to large creatures moving toward the tribe. She had also developed a deep fear of fire, and Tiberius realized that Bu’yorgi intended to burn Olyva alive.

He felt weak and sick, both physically and from fear. Tiberius leaned his head back and wished more than anything that Rafe was with him. His best friend had always led the charge into battle, and Tiberius wasn’t sure what he could do in his weakened physical state, but he knew one thing for certain — he had to do something. He had to save Olyva or die trying; there was simply no other option.