The Nomad (23 page)

“That is not the only reason, as I told you,” said Ryana. “We go to Bodach in the service of the Sage.”

“This is boring,” said Kivara, her limited attention span used up. “I don’t wish to talk about it anymore.”

“What would you rather talk about?”

“I don’t know. It’s not much fun talking to you. You never have anything interesting to say. You never like to have any fun.”

“I like to have fun as much as anyone,” Ryana said. “However, there is a time and place for such things.”

“Only you never seem to find the time or the place,” Kivara replied petulantly. “Look at what we’re doing, Ryana! We
flying!
We are as high as birds! Does it not make your spirit soar?”

“Yes,” said Ryana, “but if I only pay attention to the soaring of my spirit, then I may do something careless, and we will both fall to the ground and to our deaths. That is something that you need to learn, Kivara. There is nothing wrong in taking joy in your emotions and in the thrilling sensations you experience, but not at the expense of your better judgment. Because if you do, then you lose all sense of perspective and self-preservation.”

“That is what the Guardian is for,” Kivara said indifferently. “I cannot be bothered with such things.

Not when I am flying!” And she jumped to her knees, throwing out her arms once more. The raft once again rocked dangerously on the wind funnel that bore them up, and Ryana grabbed her for support.

“I think that will be quite enough,” the Guardian said, taking over from Kivara. The voice was still Sorak’s, but the tone was completely different. The pitch had dropped slightly, and her voice was one of calm control and reassurance. Ryana could imagine Kivara protesting loudly within Sorak’s mind, but the Guardian had emerged now and taken firm control. “Forgive me,” she said. “She slipped out.”

“It’s all right, Guardian,” said Ryana. “No harm done.”

“I am not so sure,” the Guardian replied. Her tone sounded slightly concerned. “Kivara is growing more and more difficult to control. Each time she comes out, she more stubbornly resists going back under. She appears to be growing stronger.”

“You think there is a chance that you may lose control?” Ryana asked, unnerved by the idea.

“I do not know for certain,” the Guardian replied. “I certainly hope not. That would upset the balance of the tribe.”

“It could upset a lot more than that,” Ryana said, looking down at the raft uneasily. “She isn’t bad, I know that, but the trouble is she simply does not
think.”

“She is very young,” the Guardian replied. “And in a full grown male body, at that. That makes things more difficult.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ryana said. “Well, we can always look on the bright side. At least we’ve lost Valsavis. There is no way that he can possibly catch us now.”

“Are you quite certain?”

Ryana shrugged. “Even mounted on a fast kank, it would take him days just to reach the silt basins, and then he’d still have to go all the way around them to reach the peninsula where Bodach lies. By the time he gets there, we will surely have completed our task.”

“Perhaps,” the Guardian replied. “But then what? Bodach is still a long way from anywhere. If I recall the map in
The Wanderer’s Journal
correctly, the nearest settlement to Bodach is North Ledopolus, and the nearest city would be Balic, but it lies on the opposite shore of the Estuary of the Forked Tongue. We would still have to cover a great deal of ground to reach civilization, and that would give Valsavis more than ample opportunity to close the distance between us.”

“I had not thought of that,” Ryana said with concern. “Has Sorak considered this?”

“He has considered it,” the Guardian replied, nodding. “For the present, he is primarily concerned with surviving the undead in Bodach and finding the Breastplate of Argentum. And that will certainly pose challenges enough. Valsavis can be dealt with later, but you must not think that we have seen the last of him. He is too clever and resourceful a man to be so easily discounted. True, he will have a long journey to Bodach, but there is no telling how long it may take us to find the talisman. And we have no way of knowing how much of our time will be spent dealing with the threat of the undead. All Valsavis has to do is head for Bodach, since he already knows that is our destination. And he also knows that the only way back to civilization from Bodach is to the west.”

“We could just fly right over him,” Ryana said. “Perhaps,” the Guardian said. “But we do not know that Kara would be willing to convey us to our next destination. She has already undertaken much on our behalf. Or on behalf of the Sage, I should say. Either way, it would not be fair for us to expect any more from her. If she chooses to return to Salt View once she has done her part in conveying us to Bodach, that is certainly her right.”

“Yes, of course,” Ryana said. “I understand.”

“Don’t worry, little sister,” Sorak said, emerging suddenly. “We will manage. We always have.”

She smiled, pleased to see him back again, especially after her unsettling experience with Kivara. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“Yes. I truly needed the rest. But what of you? You have not slept.”

“You think I could
sleep
under these circumstances?” she said.

“I suggest you try,” he said. “You will need all of your strength and energy when we reach Bodach.”

“It should be morning when we get there,” she said. “The undead will be at rest.”

“Yes,” said Sorak. “If we are fortunate, we may complete our task in time and leave Bodach before nightfall. But we must not count on that. We cannot afford to assume anything. You really must try to get some rest. At least for several hours.”

She glanced around uncertainly. “Sleep on a tiny wooden raft hundreds of feet above the ground, buffeted by the wind?” She shook her head. “Well, I can try, but in truth, I do not think that it will do any good at all.”

“Here,” he said. “I will hold you. Try to get some sleep.”

She snuggled into his strong arms. It felt good to be there.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Suddenly, she heard a gentle humming in her mind, very low at first, then rising slowly, until the voice of Lyric, singing beautifully, not aloud, but in her mind, filled her with his song. She held her breath for a moment in amazement and delight. She had never known that he could do that. Then she sighed and settled into Sorak’s arms, secure in their embrace as Lyric sang to her, a gently soothing, haunting melody for her and her alone. The rocking motion of the raft upon the wind seemed almost like the rocking of a cradle. She smiled as she lay in Sorak’s arms, her mind filled with Lyric’s song, and soon she drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the verdant valleys and forests high in the Ringing Mountains. And the winds continued to blow them toward the city of the undead.

* * *

“Ryana,” Sorak said, squeezing her gently. “Wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a brief moment, she did not remember where she was. She had gone to sleep with Lyric’s beautiful voice singing in her mind and had dreamt of her young girlhood at the villichi convent in the Ringing Mountains.

In her dream, she had been no more than seven or eight years old, her body still awkward and coltish, her sense of wonder at the world she lived in still undiminished and untainted by its harsher realities. She had dreamt of running down the forest trails around the convent, her long hair streaming behind her in the breeze as her feet pounded on the sun-dappled ground. She had run with all the exuberance and joy of youth, trying to keep up with Sorak, who even then could outsprint her easily with his elvish speed and endurance. It had seemed, then, that they would live out their whole lives that way, studying and training at the convent, nurtured by the loving bond of the villichi sisterhood, bathing in the bracing cold waters of the small lagoon fed by the stream running down from the mountains, running through the peaceful, green valley with its sheltering canopy of trees, sharing simple pleasures and true contentment. It had been a happy and uncomplicated time. And as she awoke, she realized that it was gone forever, faded just like her dream.

“We have arrived,” said Sorak.

She sat up and followed his gaze. They were being blown across the inland silt basins and, ahead of them, now clearly visible, was the ancient, ruined city of Bodach.

It was shortly after sunrise. From the height at which they flew upon their wooden raft, Ryana could see the peninsula jutting out into the silt basins from the north bank of the Estuary of the Forked Tongue, where it met the Sea of Silt. Near the tip of the peninsula, the spires of Bodach rose high above the surrounding countryside. Ryana caught her breath.

At one time, it must have been a truly magnificent city, testimony to the accomplishments of the ancients. But as they approached, they could see that it now possessed merely a shadow of its former glory. Many of the buildings were crumbling into ruin, and the once sparkling edifices were now scarred and worn by blowing sand. There were ancient, rotting wooden docks extending out into the silt basins, where boats had once been moored when the basins and the sea were water instead of slowly shifting sand and dust. At one time, during an earlier age, a time that no one now living on Athas could remember, the city had stood almost completely surrounded by water, a bastion of commerce and flourishing culture. Part of the spit of land now extending to the east must once have been submerged, forming a protected bay that opened out onto the sea.

Ryana tried to imagine what it must have looked like then, with triangular-sailed dhows gliding across the sparkling, blue water of the bay, pulling into the docks and unloading their cargoes. She tried to imagine the bustling crowds around the docks, the merchants loading up their wares to take to market, the fishermen sorting and cleaning their catches and hanging out their nets. As they started to descend, she could see the city streets, once paved with brick and cobblestones, now covered with blowing sand that had piled up into dunes against the building walls. She could see the large and ornate fountains in the plazas, many of them surmounted by beautiful stone sculptures that had once spouted water in graceful arcs, all of them now dry and filled with sand. The streets were totally deserted. There was not a sign of life anywhere. And, of course, she thought, there wouldn’t be. It was now a city of the undead.

Legend had it that those who first came to Bodach, seeking the fabled treasure of the ancients, fell under a curse the long-dead sorcerers had left behind. They now roamed the streets at night, dead but animated, held in thrall by the curse of the ancients and doomed to spend eternity protecting the treasure they had left behind. They had come to plunder, and they stayed to act as terrifying sentinels, preying on all those who came in their way. And in this manner, over the centuries, their numbers had grown until Bodach was now a city populated by an army of undead, deserted by day and crawling with horror by night.

As their little raft descended farther, skimming over the rooftops and weaving among the crumbling spires and towers, Sorak and Ryana stared down silently at the deserted streets below. The ruined city was filled with an eerie and disquieting stillness. Nothing stirred down there. Not even a rodent or an insect. Whatever lay in wait for them, it lay in hiding.

The raft descended as the force of the funnel-clouds holding it aloft gradually abated, and one by one, the air elementals dispersed, peeling off and disappearing into the distance with a sound like wind whistling through a canyon. Finally, only Kara remained, and she lowered them gently to the ground in a large, central plaza of the ruined city. The raft settled with a slight bump and Sorak stepped off first, followed by Ryana, as the swirling vortex that whirled scant feet away slowed and gradually dissipated, revealed Kara standing in its place. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and wearily. Even with the help of the elementals, it was obvious that the journey had taken a great deal out of her.

Sorak glanced up at the sky. They had perhaps twelve hours before the sun began to set once more and the darkness unlocked the full extent of Bodach’s terror.

“Are you well, my lady?” Ryana asked Kara with concern.

The pyreen smiled, wanly. “Yes. Merely tired.”

“Perhaps if you took some time to rest—”

The pyreen shook her head, emphatically. “No. There
is
no time. I do not have much to fear from the undead. I can avoid them easily enough. But you will be vulnerable when darkness falls. We must try to find the talisman by then and be gone.”

Sorak recalled the last time he had faced undead. It had been back in Tyr, when a defiler templar had raised them from their graves and sent them out against him. He had managed to summon Kether barely in the nick of time, and the mysterious spiritual entity had somehow defeated them through the use of powers Sorak could not even begin to comprehend. He had no consciousness of what happened when he manifested Kether, nor did any of the others. And he did not know if Kether had prevailed over the undead because he had been stronger or because he had found a way to neutralize the spell that animated them. Either way, it had happened only once, and he could not be sure it would happen here in the same way. Fighting dozens of undead was one thing, especially when he had the preserver wizards of the Veiled Alliance to help him. Fighting hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of them was something else again.

“Do you know where the Breastplate of Argentum is to be found?” he asked Kara.

“I know where the treasure is,” she replied. “However, if it is not among the treasure, then we may have to search the entire city.”

“But that could take weeks!” Ryana said. “Days, perhaps,” the pyreen replied. “I do have the ability to detect magic, and that should help us greatly in our search. It was how I knew not to trust your friend, Valsavis.”

“He is no friend of ours,” Ryana said. “Wait,” said Sorak. “You mean you detected magic on him?”

Kara nodded. “I could not tell specifically what sort, without being obvious, and that would have alerted him. But there was a strong aura of defiler magic about him.”