The Blasted Lands (17 page)

The men with her were all chosen by Desh himself as examples of brave soldiers with a powerful sense of duty and a proven talent for defending their charges.

They had fought some sort of abominations on the road to Tyrne. They had done so well, in fact, that he’d sent them to meet up with her by way of the Temmis Pass. She had ridden down the narrow cut away in the vast pit that held the Blasted Lands at bay, and sweated the entire time. Twice she’d traveled that stretch now and both times she’d wondered if the wagon she was in would survive the trek. So far her luck was holding.

The group had stopped for the night, such as it was. The wind and ash blew just as hard and the cold tried to sink through the wood of her wagon just as vigorously at night as in the daytime, the only difference was that the darkness was more solid than before. The faint light of the sun was gone; the great orb set for the evening and the light of the Great Star that often shone down at night was lost behind clouds and grit.

Outside her shelter the tents had been set up and the animals had been protected as best possible against the howling storms.

The storms did not seem to care. The winds were harsh enough to batter and shake her wagon.

A hard knock at the door of her wagon had Tega nearly ready to let out a yelp before she caught herself. The sound was simply so unexpected that she had no idea how to respond to it.

When she could breathe again she answered the door, one hand held behind the wooden barrier and holding a dagger. Just because the men had behaved themselves so far did not mean they would continue to follow that trend. In any event she did not want to take any foolish chances.

The winds tried to rip the door from her grip and the dust from outside entered the cabin in a rush. Tega squinted her eyes against the worst of it and looked at her unexpected guest.

The man on the other side of the threshold nodded his greeting. “According to the best guesses we can make in this weather, we should be at the Mounds tomorrow if this storm lets up.” That was very likely the most words Maun had spoken to her since Desh had introduced them. He was a lean man, and hard, with several scars on his arms and his neck alike. He was also unsettlingly quiet at the best of times. When they’d left Tyrne he’d said nothing, leaving most of the comments to the other man guarding her, a burly fellow named Stradly Limms. Stradly liked to talk and had filled her with a dozen stories about the City of Wonders. She enjoyed each of the tales, having never once been to the area often called the Old Capitol these days. The actual palace remained there and the majority of the Krous family lived there, but she’d never been herself. The stories Limms told honed her curiosity.

“Do you think the storm will abate?”

Maun stared at her for a moment without responding and finally gave a very small nod of his head. “Likely. At least according to Vonders.” Vonders was as close as they came to an expert in the area. He was, aside from her, the only person who’d ever entered the Blasted Lands before.

Tega thanked the man but he did not leave. Eventually she decided to ask him why.

“We can’t tell for certain, the storm is too bad, but it’s possible there are others out here. Might even be some of the enemies are following us at a distance.”

Tega nodded her head. “Thank you for the warning. We’ll talk again after the storm lets up.”

Maun nodded and slid backward and into the winds, his hair flipping madly around his face. A moment later he was gone.

She did not like the man. There was something about him that was unpleasant, though she could not quite decide what it was. She would trust him only because Desh said she could, but she could not bring herself to be comfortable around him.

The winds continued their screaming fit and the wagon shuddered and groaned along with it, a victim of the raging abuse the wind delivered.

Outside the winds calmed for a moment and then a low noise thrummed through the air, through the ground itself, and set her entire body to vibrating along with everything in her shelter. Tega closed her eyes and felt her lips drawn down in a scowl of discomfort. The sensation was unpleasant at best and bordered on painful.

She knew what it was, of course. The sound, low vibration that rattled her bones in her flesh, was nothing other than the target of her investigation. The Mounds.

There were stories about what had happened in the Blasted Lands. Those different tales were one of the reasons she’d chosen to apprentice with Desh Krohan in the first place. He was supposed to be wise and ancient and if anyone would know the mysteries behind the ruined area it would surely be the man nearly old enough to have been there.

His tales were as broken and sporadic as the rest. There had been a great war, that much was a given. There had been sorceries on a scale not seen since and those powerful spells had caused the devastation. But what, exactly had happened? No one knew for sure.

According to Desh there was a very real possibility that the Mounds rested over the remains of Korwa, the greatest city that had ever existed. Korwa, where magic was first studied and taught, where the seat of the known world had been before the Cataclysm. Vonders and his family scavenged the Blasted Lands for the tiniest relics, but what might still be waiting if there was anything left of Korwa? Certain sorcerers, like Desh, had long since prepared their most important items to withstand amazing damage. It took time and power, of course, but according to Desh there were a few items of his that could not be destroyed by lightning, by fire, or sword. They could be hurt, yes, but the effort would require an army’s worth of effort.

What might still wait where sorcery got its start?

Despite herself, Tega felt her heartbeat faster at the thought of the Mounds. Not with apprehension, though surely there were plenty of reasons to be worried. Not with dread of what might be waiting in the place that could make noises low and strong enough to rattle her teeth in their sockets.

No. Her pulse quickened at the thought of what she might find if she could, indeed, discover a way to enter the area that the Sa’ba Taalor were forbidden to seek by their gods.

Ultimately, she knew that Desh had sent her for his own reasons, but in this case, there was decidedly a secondary purpose for her.

She had questions and now, by the gods, she just might have a way to get answers.

Chapter Eight

Four days passed before Desh Krohan came out of his chambers. No one, not even the new Empress, was quite foolish enough to knock on the doors to find him, Nachia Krous did indeed visit his chambers, twice, actually, but she did not find him, Instead she saw only the sealed door to a room within his personal area. She knew that the door there lead to an area where he locked himself away to do whatever it was that sorcerers did when they dared not be disturbed.

There were stories aplenty of what sorcerers did, of course, but Nachia had never much cared about that. She was a very bright student when she was growing up and she had always been inquisitive enough, but when it came to magic and the casting of spells, she had no interest.

It was not a lack of imagination so much as a simple understanding. She would never be allowed to practice any sort of sorcery, and so she did not waste her time with it. In this she was completely different from Pathra Krous. He had always desperately wanted to know more of everything that was forbidden him. She never decided if that was a strength or a weakness in her cousin. Either way she missed him.

When Desh came out of his locked room he staggered to his personal chambers and immediately poured cold water from a pitcher into a goblet and a ceramic bowl. He drained the goblet, filled it two more times and finished it thrice. Then he washed his entire body, carefully splashing away the worst of the blood. There was a great deal of blood, more than he had expected.

When he was mostly presentable he draped his great robe over his body and moved into the main work area, lamenting, again, the lack of the Sisters to aid him.

Nachia was not in the room when he got there, but in less than twenty minutes she made her presence known. By then he had called for a servant to fill his bath properly and was busily eating pabba fruit, cheese and bread with desperate appetite. Four days without food or water had left him feeling wasted away, though he looked much as he always did.

“Where have you been?” Nachia’s voice was just a little demanding.

Desh didn’t even bother looking up from his food. He chewed, swallowed and washed the latest bite down with a splash of wine and answered, “Dealing with the Sooth. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve saved me the trouble of coming to you.”

Nachia was surprised not to hear his usual admonitions about privacy and the possibility of rumors but brushed that aside. “What’s wrong?”

Desh finally looked up and took another sip of his wine. “A great deal, actually. But the thing we should focus on for now is the need to move everyone out of this city immediately.”

“What?” Her voice cracked like a whip and Desh imagined he could hear the echo from the other side of the palace’s courtyard walls.

“A little quieter, Highness. We would rather not share state secrets with the enemies of the Empire.”

“Desh, what are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

The man’s skin was still pale and his eyes a touch feverish in appearance. He had cleaned himself fairly well but had not yet bathed and as a result there were spots around his hairline where dried, crusted blood could still be seen.

“Possibly,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”

“We cannot move everyone out of the city, Desh. It’s impossible.”

“It’s hardly impossible, Nachia. Difficult, to be sure, but well within the realm of possibilities I imagine.”

“Where would we take them?” Nachia stared at him and shook her head. Her brow knitted into a tight V above her eyes, a sure sign that she was vexed. He rather enjoyed that aspect of the conversation as she was normally the one putting him into that state of mind.

“There is a very large Empire beyond the walls of Tyrne, Highness. You know this. You’ve lived beyond them for most of your life.”

“Desh Krohan, you are my First Advisor and I have always respected your opinions, but I need more than that to convince me to move an entire city’s worth of people.”

Desh sighed and stood up. His great robe fluttered and moved and shimmered and looked as impressive as ever, but with the cowl down the effect was lost. He was simply not as terrifying when he had a face.

“We need to move the people from the city, Nachia, because the Sooth have warned me that it has to be done.”

“What are these Sooth, anyway? And why do you listen to them?”

Desh frowned. Describing the Sooth was rather like trying to explain the distance between the Great Star and the sun. There was no proper measurement that he knew of.

“They are spirits. They don’t exist in the same way that we do, and they can often see events that haven’t happened yet.”

“How?”

“I have no idea. All I can tell you is that they can often tell what will happen and it strikes their fancy they can share that information.” The V between her eyebrows grew more pronounced. “Honestly, Nachia, you look like you’re about to have a fit.”

“I’m not going to any anything of the sort.” A wave of her hand, brushing away a pest. “Explain why these spirits say we should abandon one of the largest cities in the Empire.”

“Because they say the city will be destroyed.”

Nachia’s eyes sought something and when she spotted a chair she nodded and moved over to it.

“How? How will the city be destroyed?”

Desh felt his face grow a bit hot. “Yes, well, that would seem to be the problem I’ve encountered.”

“Excuse me?”

“They can’t tell me how, only that it will happen and soon.”

“How soon?”

“Well, that would be the other problem I’ve run into. The Sooth don’t understand time as we do, you see and so they can’t exactly point to a precise moment.”

Nachia’s mouth dropped open in surprise and then slowly pulled into a tight line of disapproval. Desh found himself puzzling over how mobile her features were.

“Desh. I need more than that before I can do anything.”

“Why?”

The Empress shook her head. “Because I can’t very well demand that every person in the entire city abandon their homes over what amounts to the faintest possibility of a problem.”

Desh shook his head in counterargument. “Of course you can. You’re the Empress. You can tell them whatever you want and they have to listen.”

“Are you mad?” Nachia’s voice broke for the second time.

“We’ve already discussed the possibility, I believe. Listen, Nachia, I would love to argue this out with you, I would, but I rather got the impression that time is of the essence and we have a lot to accomplish if we’re going to evacuate an entire city the size of this one.” He scratched at the dried blood along his scalp line and looked at the chamber where even now a very large tub of refreshingly warm and clean water was waiting for him.

With the usual disregard for his needs, Nachia crossed her arms and shook her head. “This can’t happen, Desh!”

“It has to happen, Nachia. I mean that. I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s absolutely necessary.”

Nachia stared hard at him, a child, really, the difference between them amplified by decades, by centuries, not merely by years. “Then I fear we may all die here, Desh Krohan. I need more than the thought that the city might someday come to an end to move us.”

“Nachia! You have to listen to me.” He strode toward her, and stopped himself from grabbing her shoulders. “We have to leave here. Go back to old Canhoon. Go to the proper palace and easily half the population will follow you soon enough.”

“Give me a proper reason, Desh. Find out what is going to happen here and explain it to me. Give me more than the spirits giving vague warnings.” Her voice was steady and so was her gaze. Desh cursed himself a bit for picking as well as he had who would rule when Pathra died.