Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms (14 page)

How are we
going to get out of this alive?
They were
almost backed up to where Alondo was desperately trying to bring
the morgren under control. The beasts of burden broke free and
bolted. Alondo swore.

“Alondo, forget the morgren,”
Lyall shouted behind him.

Shann was thinking rapidly. If it
were just her and Lyall, then they could leap away; outpace the
sand scarags. But Alondo did not have a cloak. He was stuck firmly
on the ground, and if they made their escape, he would be
overwhelmed in moments. She cursed his obduracy.

Lyall called out, “Shann, get to
the side.”

What?
She was standing squarely in front of Alondo, in
an effort to protect him. The creatures were already snapping their
claws at the end of her staff which she held outstretched like a
pike. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Lyall had moved
around to Alondo’s flank.

“Shann,
get to the side, now
.”

Bewildered, she quickly backed
around to Alondo’s other flank. Glancing at him, she saw that he
had swung his instrument forward and had its tubular neck pointed
toward the advancing line. He adjusted a control and hammered the
strings. Shann felt a backwash of air, like a pressure wave, as a
vortex of air and sound struck the oncoming swarm and knocked the
creatures backwards.

He adjusted another control and
attacked the strings again, this time with a rhythmic motion. A new
vortex formed and began to resonate with the sand scarags’ body
parts. The line broke, and the animals scuttled to either side to
escape the blast.

“Come on,” Lyall shouted to
Shann. “Just don’t get in the path of the sound weapon.”

The cloaked figures ran forward
on either side of the vortex, wielding their staffs against the
attackers. The sand scarags’ numbers thinned as more of them fell
and others scuttled off towards the open desert. Lyall and Shann
backed off as Alondo swept the sound weapon in a wide arc. The air
shimmered as the stragglers were knocked back by an invisible wall.
They fled, kicking up puffs of sand as they went.

Lyall and Shann both stood, feet
planted firmly in the sand, staffs held out in front of them,
scanning the dunes for any sign of the creatures. A score of sand
scarag bodies lay scattered about where they had fallen, but there
were no further signs of movement.

“Is everyone all right?” Lyall
shouted.

Alondo and Shann both called out,
“Yes.”

“Shann?”

“It just grabbed me; I’m
fine.”

Lyall seemed satisfied and
adopted a more relaxed stance. Shann followed his lead and walked
over to where he was standing. “I thought sand scarags were just
travellers’ stories.”

“Yes, well, we very nearly fell
victim to one of those ‘stories.’” Lyall was still gazing at the
horizon. Ail-Gan was lighting up the western horizon, heralding the
onset of dawn.

She continued, looking up at him.
“Do you think we are safe now?”

“For the moment.” He turned.
“Alondo, we need to get moving. Let’s round up those morgren.
Shann, see if you can help him.”

Shann joined Alondo, who was
straining his ears. They both heard a distant tinkling sound.
Alondo grinned. “That’s why they wear bells. Come on.” He headed
off in the direction the sound was coming from.

She trotted to catch up with him.
“That instrument…armament…whatever it was you used. That was
amazing.”

“Well, it’s nice of you to say
so. Lyall may fly around waving his stick, but you notice it’s
always me he comes to, when he needs some real work
done.”

Shann laughed out
loud.

Chapter
9

The desert outpost was a
collection of rough stone buildings straddling the road to Gort. It
was a depressing stop on the way to an even more depressing place.
An outside well stood near the road, offering respite from the
effects of sun and sand.

They were making good time. This
was the second of the two outposts on the desert highway. Keris
reckoned they should be at the fortress in less than a day. Boxx
appeared to be adapting well to desert conditions. More importantly
it seemed able to keep up with her. She realised that its pace had
increased when she had taken the time to explain the purpose of
their journey across the desert.

“If We Are After, Your Friends
Will Die?” it asked.

“Well they’re not exactly…yes,
they will die.”

“Then We Must Arrive
Before.”

Keris travelled as fast as she
could, using the flying cloak. Boxx was a dark figure, loping along
the highway below.

She landed a hundred feet or so
from the outpost and walked up to the guardhouse. Boxx trotted up
beside her. She hammered on the door. It opened, and a soldier with
dishevelled hair and open tunic stood in the doorway. He looked
annoyed; then his face changed to surprise as he saw the cloaked
figure standing before him.

“Keltar?”

Keris concluded that the man must
be dim-witted. “Your name, soldier.”

“I am Geole.” The man was
rearranging his clothing into a semblance of order. “My apologies,
Keltar, we did not know there was to be another one.”

“Another one?”

“Another Keltar.” She stepped
into the guardhouse, and Geole noticed for the first time the
Chandara behind her, standing on its hind legs. His expression
changed again, to one of pure distaste. “What is that?”

“That
is none of your concern, soldier.” The creature
dropped to all sixes and waddled inside. “Who was it who was here
before?”

The man looked confused as if she
were asking a question she should know the answer to. “Five Keltar
were here yesterday from the keep at Chalimar, headed for Gort.
They are expecting some sort of disturbance there.” He added, “You
were not aware of this, Keltar?”

“Of course I am aware. That is
why I am journeying there now. I will rest here during the midday
period. I require re-supply.”

“Of course, Keltar. I will see to
it at once.” The soldier’s gaze took in the figure of Boxx next to
her. His brow furrowed, and he seemed about to say something, then
thought better of it and left.

Five Keltar. If I
don’t get there first, they won’t stand a chance.

~

The fortress of Gort rose above
the desert sands, exuding an air of pure malevolence. Its walls
were constructed of huge stones, with dark gaps like eye sockets.
Battlements and pointed iron stakes were a crown of sharp horns.
Massive doors of wood and iron stood open like a mouth stretched
wide, its appetite insatiable.

It was a chained beast, devoid of
all mercy and compassion, a symbol of tyranny and
oppression.

Shann looked up at it, and a
shiver ran down her spine. Lyall was silent. Even Alondo seemed to
have been robbed of his usual ready humour.

Finally, Lyall broke the mood.
“Come on.” He turned and walked back to their makeshift camp. The
others followed in sombre moods. Light from Ail-Gan was waning in
the east.

The camp lay in a sand hollow,
out of sight of the road. The two morgren stood patiently in the
gathering gloom. Lyall rummaged in a pack and started building a
small fire, talking as he did so.

“All right, let’s discuss the
plan. The tributes are sequestered in a compound outside the
fortress to the south. There are no more than half a dozen soldiers
on guard there at any one time. I suppose they conclude that the
desert is an effective deterrent against escape.”

“How do you know all of that?”
Shann interjected.

“I…was there once before. Anyway,
in order to set them free, we are going to need their help. It will
be a coordinated assault from within and without. Timing will be
vital. That is where you come in, Shann.”

“Me?”

“That’s right. We need someone on
the inside, someone to tell the tributes about the plan to free
them, but above all, to convince them to do their part.”

The import of
what Lyall was saying was slowly penetrating her consciousness. She
frowned. “You want me to go in
there?
”

Lyall fixed her with his intense
blue eyes. “I realise that what I am asking you to do is difficult.
You will have to become one of them.”

“You mean become a
tribute?”

“That’s right, Shann. And you
will be on your own. But if the plan works, then it will be for no
more than a day.”

Alondo’s face
was drawn with concern.
This is the first
he’s hearing about it,
she realised.
“Lyall, are you sure about this?” he asked.

Lyall was still looking into
Shann’s eyes as he replied to his friend. “You and I will be
occupied with neutralizing the guards at the front. No-one else
knows how to use that infernal contraption of yours. Besides,” he
grinned, “you look too well fed to pass as a tribute.

“Shann, you are the only one who
can pull this off. If we manage it, the tributes will be free, and
we will have cut off the Prophet’s supply of lodestones. It will be
the beginning of the end of the tyranny.”

Shaan thought
of the tributes, wrested from their homes and families and
condemned to toil and die in this terrible place. She could help
set them free. And all it would cost would be to live as they were
forced to, for a single day. It was a small enough price to
pay.
This is why I am here. To free my
father and mother and bring them home.

She raised her chin and met
Lyall’s steady gaze. “What do you need me to do?”

Lyall relaxed slightly. “First of
all, you will need to pass as tribute. That means you will need to
bear the mark.”

Alondo’s eyes widened. “You can’t
be serious.”

Lyall’s voice was low and firm.
“She has to be capable of passing inspection. If she is found to be
an interloper, then they will kill her and the plan will be
lost.”

“By the Three,
Lyall, you are talking about
branding
the girl. She will bear the
mark for life.”

“It’s all
right, Alondo,” Shann interjected, “I
want
to do it.” Alondo looked
visibly upset, but he said nothing.

Lyall got up. “Shann, take a seat
here by the fire. I will try and make this as quick and pain free
as possible.” He went to one of the morgren and retrieved tools
from one of the packs. He returned to the fire, and knelt beside
it. The firelight gave his face a ruddy appearance. He fanned the
core of the fire until it glowed hot. Then he placed an iron at its
heart, until it glowed with the same radiance. He extracted the
iron and pressed it to the olive skin at her neck. There was a
brief hissing sound. She winced and Alondo looked away. Lyall
pulled the iron away immediately and pressed a damp cloth to the
wound. She knew that she was now marked forever with the flame; the
symbol of the Prophet.

It’s a small enough
price to pay.

~

Shann dumped the lodestone into
the ore cart, sinking to her knees as she did so. The three suns
blazed down with unremitting brutality. She was already almost
swooning with heat and exertion.

Inducting her into the tribute
gang had proved to be simple enough. There was only a single guard
overseeing the ore gang, no doubt due to his having lost a bet the
previous evening. Lyall located a surface lodestone, and had Shann
walk to the ore cart from behind the cover of a dune, as if she had
just found it. She was clad in the same rough brown smock as the
other tributes. The bored guard was only interested in counting
stones, not people.

As she got to her feet, a thin
young man with sandy hair came up behind her. Checking that the
guard was looking the other way, he breathed into her ear, “Who are
you?”

Shann turned to look at him and
was immediately struck by the fact that he looked like a younger
version of Lyall. His mouth was straighter and his cheeks were
hollowed out, but there were the same piercing blue
eyes.

“My name is Shann,” she
whispered. “There are others with me. We have a plan to free the
tributes. Will you help us?”

“Are you out of your mind?” he
hissed. “This is Gort, in the middle of the desert. There’s no
escape from here.”

“We have a plan to get you out,”
Shann insisted, “but you have to help. Will you listen to what I
have to say?”

The boy checked that the guard
was still looking the other way and bent his head again. “All
right. You see the dune over there?” Shann nodded imperceptibly.
“Head for the dip side. I will follow in a few moments.”

Without a word, she headed off in
the direction he indicated. Soon she was out of sight of the guard.
She turned and saw the boy she had talked to accompanied by an
older man. The man had thinning grey hair and looked little more
than a skeleton, skin stretched taut over his bony frame. It was he
who spoke. He sounded terse. “What’s this all about?”