The Blasted Lands (26 page)

Maun approached along with the other escort who’d been with her since the beginning of her quest. Both of them carried short spears and looked at the creature intently even as it bore down on Tolpen.

Tolpen stood his ground and fired and this time did better. The arrow drove into the open mouth of the Pra-Moresh and then through the soft side of the creature’s cheek. It reared up and roared-screamed-wept again, shaking its face as if to make the pain sail away as easily as Darus had.

And while it was busy Nolan came up from behind and brought his axe around in a hard swing at the beast’s legs. Tega took a deep breath and let it out as the thing yelped and turned and swept both of its paws at Nolan. The man managed to duck away but fell on the ice as he did so. He was surely as good as dead, might have died right then, but Maun and Stradly threw their spears and hit the thing. One shaft sank into the creature’s bare abdomen and the other caught it in the shoulder. It turned to them and limped forward as it fell to all fours. The spear wobbled in its shoulder and it moved that limb with less strength but still it charged. Blood fell from its hind side and the left leg dragged, but still it came at a frightening speed.

They were not prepared; it was as simple as that. The men had been trained to fight men, not monsters and the Pra-Moresh did not stop. It came for Maun and Stradly and they drew weapons and held their ground though she could see how desperately they wanted to flee.

It came for Maun and Stradly, who were in front of Tega. The thing looked so big already but grew at a horrible, sickening pace as it lumbered closer.

Tega concentrated and made herself remain as calm as she could. It was not easy. Calm went against her nature at that moment. What she wanted was to run from the unholy thing coming closer to her.

She said no words. They were not necessary. Instead she summoned the energies she had been studying for several years and forced her will upon the world.

And the world responded with a roar.

The Pra-Moresh exploded. Flesh and bone and fur and gristle went in every direction. The ground beneath the thing bulged and rippled and snapped in a violent wave and Maun and Stradly who were standing closest to the Pra-Moresh were hurled aside and bounced and skittered as they tried to recover from the unexpected force.

The sound of the thing was as terrifying as the sight. The air roared with a force like thunder, loud enough to nearly deafen Tega. The air whipped from the center of the explosion and a few seconds later the remains of the thing rained down across the terrain.

She stared in horror, knowing full well that she had done that.

Past the ringing in her ears she heard the others calling out, looking around and trying to take in all that had happened. Maun lay on the ground, holding his stomach and grimacing. Stradly crawled over to him, looking at the spreading stain on Maun’s belly. A red stain. Nolan March walked toward them, barely even aware of the axe he dragged behind him, and Darus tried to sit up. Tried and failed. She could just make out the sound of his moan.

Nolan turned to the other soldier and started looking him over. Tolpen came closer, moving with extreme care, his eyes wide and worried. He did not understand what had happened, but only that the Pra-Moresh was gone in a wave of gore and violence.

Vonders understood well enough. He came up behind her and looked at her with horror in his eyes. “What did you do, girl?”

“I stopped it. It was going to kill them.”

Before she could say more the ground beneath them roared. The air above them followed suit a moment later and the sound was so loud that thinking became impossible. It was all she could do not to simply fall down and scream. Heavy vibrations rattled her eyes in their sockets, her teeth in her gums and the flesh on her bones. Beside her Vonders did fall down, howling into a noise that made his anguish silent.

They had heard the roar of the Mounds before, but always from a distance, from as much as a day’s travel away. Now the sound came around them and shook the world. The ice that they had spent time trying to hack through shattered, in some cases falling away and in others sticking doggedly to the surfaces where it had adhered for who knew how long.

Tega turned in every direction trying to understand the nature of the noise, the source of the cacophony that dominated her senses and her ability to think. There was no one thing that she could see; there was only the sound.

And then the noise ended and she could breathe again and the pain faded down to a tolerable sensation.

Vonders looked up from where he was laying on the ground, his eyes wider than before and a pained expression on his face. He was not injured that she could see, but more likely just overwhelmed. Aside from storms there had been nothing in their time traveling across the Blasted Lands and now all of this in only moments.

Within a few minutes they were assessing their situation. Darus had a broken arm, his left, and several substantial bruises from being knocked out of the Pra-Moresh’s way. Additionally his left leg was either sprained or broken. He could stand but he could barely walk at all.

Nolan was unharmed. Vonders was unscathed. Tolpen remained uninjured as well, though he was still extremely shaken. She did not think he’d been as prepared as he’d thought he would be for the actual sight of a Pra-Moresh. Certainly she had not been ready for it. Stradly Limm was bruised across one half of his body. His right side had been facing the monster when the explosion occurred and his flesh on that side was mottled and looked as if he’d been struck with a hammer across every inch of flesh. He was able to walk. He was able to stand. He did not look as if he was able to think clearly and his speech was slurred.

Maun was the worst of them. She did not think he would live through his injuries. One of the Pra-Moresh’s teeth, a massive thing as big as her hand, had been blown into his stomach by the explosion. And while she watched, Nolan and Volpers did their best to pull the bloodied thing from his insides without tearing him up any further.

For almost an hour they worked at sewing his insides back in place, neither of them speaking more than in single words, mostly communicating in gestures for one item or another from a small surgical kit.

Maun was a quiet man, but he screamed a great deal as they worked on mending him. Eventually he fainted from the work and the silence was almost worse.

The horses were gone.

Darus doubted they would return. There was nothing for them in the Blasted Lands and they likely had only stayed because they were well trained, but now that they had broken free there was little to make him believe they would come back to the area.

By the time they were done with the surgery and had recovered from the madness of the moment the sun had slithered its way down toward the west again. The darkness would come back soon and none of them were in a state to attempt the Mounds.

Ultimately Tega decided they needed warmth and safety more than anything else. Though it was cramped in the extreme, all of them slept in the wagon that night.

Maun was still alive in the morning. The work that Nolan and Volpers did was clean and efficient. Tega checked the wounds herself and used what ingredients she had to make a poultice to keep the wound clean from infection and to aid in healing.

None of them said anything. None of them blamed her, but she blamed herself. She had lacked the proper control. She had failed to restrain the power she wielded and when she could stand it no more she apologized.

“I’m so sorry you were injured, Maun and you, Stradly. I did not mean to do that.”

Stradly had recovered a great deal from his earlier shock. He shook his head and winced. “Sorry for saving us then?”

“What?”

“We were there, Mistress Tega. We saw the thing coming. We was as good as dead. Nothing to be done for it but to watch that evil thing eat our guts out. You saved us.”

Maun nodded and spoke more softly than usual. “Aye. Might have been a trifle rough in the saving, but that you did. Only a fool would think otherwise.”

Nolan nodded his head. “You were a ways off. I know how large the thing looked to you, but from where we were it was a lot bigger.”

Vonders nodded. “Seen the head of one of those in the Duke’s palace once. And saw the corpse of one that died of old age I guess. We’d have taken it back for the possible prize, but it was too rotted and too heavy and we had enough salvage. The one we saw yesterday was bigger than either. I pray they don’t make them any bigger.”

Tega had no true response to their words but thanked them with a smile and a nod of her head.

“So.” Nolan looked around at the group and then looked rather pointedly at the door to the wagon. “When do we go exploring. Or do we with what’s happened?”

Maun was the one who answered. “We go. We have to. We’ve given our word to the wizard and we are on a mission to help the Empire.”

Tega looked at the man and studied him. “Yes. That’s the truth of it. But we go tomorrow and not today. Today we recover and we prepare.” There were some who were injured among them and more than that she was exhausted. She had never used so much energy at once before and though she was young in years she felt nearly ancient after the effort involved.

Maun nodded his head. “Tomorrow then. That should be soon enough.”

There was nothing more to say after that.

Chapter Twelve

There was no time in the morning to consider the magnitude of his night with Delil. The sound of great horns blaring out in the open echoed into his sleeping chamber and Andover awoke with a groan, sitting up in the cot and wondering for just a moment where he was. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and barely caught himself before disaster. His hands felt, yes, and they moved, yes, but they were still forged from iron and he had already learned the hard way that rubbing at his eyes could leave him in agony and half-blinded. That was the last thing he needed when he was on his way to meet a god.

Meet a god.

“Oh.” It was the only sound he could make.

Andover rose from his bed and quickly dressed himself. The room was empty. Delil sat up and dressed just as quickly, not speaking at all. She made sure her veil was in place before she stood and then headed for the threshold of the entrance.

“I… Good luck.” She left before he could respond. That was just as well, he could think of nothing to say that would not come out the wrong way. Women always confused his tongue and after this? Well, thank you hardly seemed the right words.

He ran his fingers through his hair – taking a few strands along with his gesture – and then slipped on his boots. A moment later he walked out into the bright morning sunlight and found Tusk and several others waiting for him. They were a terrifying lot and for one brief moment he feared that he’d offended them. Was Delil someone’s daughter? Fiancée?

Tusk dismissed any possible worried and added new ones instead. “Andover Lashk of the Iron Hands, it is time to meet Durhallem.”

He nodded his head nervously and stepped closer.

“No one faces the Daxar Taalor except on their own.” Tusk’s voice was not unkind. “You must walk.” He pointed toward the top of the mountain so very far above them.

Without another word, Andover walked, heading toward his first meeting with one of the gods of the Seven Forges.

***

The palace was an endless hive of activity most days. There were people moving about almost constantly. Between advisors, guards, soldiers who were being trained as guards, chancellors, representatives from different kingdoms that sought to see the head of the Empire and all of the souls who took care to make every detail of the work seem effortless, it would have appeared to many that the people living and working in the palace never slept.

That was not true in most cases but just at the present it was more accurate.

Desh Krohan came back to the palace and moved directly to the throne room, not bothering to head for his usual stop at his quarters or anywhere else. When he got there Nachia Krous was already waiting and in discussion with Merros Dulver. The general was going over the maps with the Empress, showing her in careful detail the layout of the land as best they knew it and the places where he thought it likely they could manage to find access to the Blasted Lands and thus the Seven Forges.

Desh took one look at the maps and sighed. “We should prepare for war, yes, we have been preparing for war, but I believe we have a few other matters to attend to first.”

“Desh, how very nice to see you.” Nachia’s voice was deliberately too bright and cheerful.

The wizard shook his head. “The Sa’ba Taalor are offering us a chance to parley.”

Merros seemed genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“One of them was waiting for us. Had likely been waiting for a few days by the time I arrived where we were.” He looked at both of them for a moment to see if they understood. They did not. “She was literally waiting in the ashes, buried in the ground a few inches down. I would have never seen her had she not made her presence known.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly. It was an offer of peace and a reminder that for them the notion of sneaking in and causing mayhem is a minor thing.”

“She could have killed you then?” Nachia’s voice was small.

Desh shook his head. “Not likely. I am better defended than most. But she certainly could have killed your brother.”

Nachia did not respond except to shift on the throne.

“The point is this. We have a chance to argue for peace before this gets worse, yes, but we also have a chance to move forward with whatever you decide to do, Nachia. We also have a chance to leave this city before it is too late.”

Merros shook his head. His lips pressed together. “A nightmare of efforts, Desh, especially if your predictions are wrong.”

He turned on the general and pinned him hard with his gaze. “How many people live in this city, General Dulver?”

“I’m not really sure….”

“I am. I have studied the surveys and the figures provided by the revenuers. We have almost thirty thousand people in the city of Tyrne and the surrounding areas. This is an old city and it has had a long time to grow in size. The occupation of the Summer Palace year round has already bloated the city of the last fifteen years.” He waved a hand to stop the protest of Nachia. “I’m not saying there was ever anything wrong with Pathra choosing to be here instead of in Canhoon. I’m saying that the city has grown well beyond where it should have.”