The Seeker

5

By midday, they were well into the barrens. The terrain was difficult, and the going slow. Though the kank was surefooted and able to negotiate the rocky ground, its distress was clearly evident to Sorak, if not to Ryana and the princess. The Stony Barrens had been aptly named. Nothing grew here. At first, they had seen the occasional clumps of scraggly vegetation, but by now, they were traveling over terrain that was completely bare, and the kank knew that it would find no forage. All they could see for miles and miles was broken rock.

Sorak picked his way among the larger boulders, but even where he found ground that wasn’t rocky, there was barely any soil visible at all. Where there wasn’t jagged rock, his feet crunched down on gravel. And as the day wore on, the merciless dark sun beat down upon the rocks until Sorak could feel the heat through his thick hide moccasins. He did not wish to overburden the kank, which was already carrying two riders. At the same time, he knew it would not be long before his footgear was completely shredded by the rocky ground. Though his feet were hard and callused, he did not relish the thought of going across the barrens barefoot. The temperature had climbed steadily throughout the morning until now, with the sun at its zenith, it seemed to Sorak as if his perspiration would boil away into steam as it dripped down his cheeks onto the ground. The heat was truly oppressive. Ryana rode the kank in silence, her body rocking slightly with the movements of the beast, while the princess leaned against her back, her head turned to one side, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and labored. Sorak had to give Korahna her due. She was clearly suffering in the sweltering heat, yet she had not uttered one word of complaint.

“It was foolish of us to come this way,” said Eyron. “There is no end in sight to this hellish field of broken rock. We should have gone around it.”

“The spell of the scroll indicated that we must follow this direction,” Sorak replied, speaking to Eyron internally.

“Why?” Eyron persisted. “What is to be served by it? What will be gained if we suffocate from heat and die out here in this desolate wasteland?”

“We shall not die,” Sorak replied. “The Sage would not have shown this way to us without a purpose. Perhaps that purpose was a test of our abilities and our resolve. We must not fail it.”

“Perhaps the Sage does not wish to be found,” said Eyron. “Have you ever thought of that? Perhaps this is merely his way of ensuring that you cannot seek him out. Perhaps he means for us to die here in these barrens.”

“I cannot believe that,” Sorak said. “If the Sage is unwilling to be found, then there seems little point to his discouraging our efforts in such a drastic manner. The defilers have been seeking the Sage for years, and yet they have never found him.”

“So then what makes you think you will succeed?” asked Eyron.

“We shall succeed because the Sage will want us to succeed” said Sorak. “He shall guide our way, as he is doing now.”

“But how do you know it is the Sage who is our guide?” said Eyron. “The scroll came from the Alliance. What proof have you that it is genuine? It may be some plan of theirs to mislead us.”

“I suppose that is possible,” admitted Sorak, “but I believe it most unlikely. If there was some reason why the Alliance did not wish us to succeed in our quest for the Sage, they needed only to claim ignorance. There was no need for them to give us the scroll.”

“Unless they wanted to dispose of us obligingly in the Stony Barrens,” Eyron said.

“Enough, Eyron,” said the Guardian. “You have made your point, and there is no need to belabor it. Besides, it is too late to turn back now.”

“She’s right,” said Sorak. “If we were to turn back now, all this would have been for nothing, and we would only encounter Torian and his mercenaries, who are doubtless searching for the princess.”

“There’s another thing,” said Eyron. “Why did we need to drag that useless baggage along with us? She is only an unnecessary burden. She did not even bring food or water with her. She will merely deplete our supplies.”

“She will be necessary when we reach Nibenay,” said Sorak. “Besides, she is not nearly as much of a burden at the moment as you. I had expected complaints from Korahna, being as she had lived in pampered luxury all of her life and knows nothing of hardship, but she has not complained at all, whereas i have to listen to your pathetic whining. Look to the princess for your example, Eyron. She is not afraid.”

“Eyron is af-ray-aid, Eyron is af-ray-aid,” Lyric taunted in a singsong voice.

“Be silent, you miserable whelp!”

“Eyron is a cow-ard, Eyron is a cow-ard!”

“Will you two stop?” Kivara’s shout echoed through Sorak’s mind. “I am trying to sleep, and you are giving me a headache!”

“That will be quite enough from everyone,” the Guardian said, exerting firm control as the other voices all fell silent. “Sorak needs his energy for the journey ahead. He does not need all of you adding to his troubles.”

“Thank you,” Sorak said.

“You are welcome,” said the Guardian. “If you are growing tired, perhaps you should rest for a while and allow the Ranger the fore.”

“I will rest later,” Sorak said. “Besides, I have much thinking to do.”

“You are concerned about Torian.”

“Yes. By now, he surely will have realized we went across the barrens, if he did not see through our plan from the very start.”

“You think he will follow?”

“I am sure of it. I did not tell Ryana and the princess, for I saw no point in worrying them any further, but I would be very much surprised if Torian did not embark upon our trail as soon as he realized which way we had gone. He did not strike me as the sort who would discourage easily.”

“Nor me,” the Guardian agreed. “The question remains, would the mercenaries follow him across the barrens?”

“Given enough incentive, they probably would,” said Sorak. “And Torian has more than enough money to provide that. If not, Ankhor will undoubtedly back him.”

“Undoubtedly,” the Guardian agreed again. “Still, we have a good start on them. They may not be able to catch up.”

“I was wondering about that,” Sorak said. “It would depend upon whether or not Torian believed we had taken the southern route. If so, and the pursuit was sent in that direction, then chances are we have placed enough miles between us to outdistance pursuit. But if not....”

“Then Torian may catch us?”

“It is possible. We still have at least five or six hours’ start on them if they did not pursue us down the southern route. It would depend on how hard he drove his mercenaries. There is no way of knowing how long it will take us to cross the barrens. The maps do not give an exact distance. If Torian’s men were to travel all night, or most of the night, they could make up the time within a day or two. Three, at the very most.”

“Then perhaps we should travel through the night, as well,” the Guardian suggested. “There is much to argue for that,” Sorak said. “However, while it poses no great hardship to the tribe, Ryana and the princess would wear out quickly, especially Korahna. She already seems at the limits of her powers of endurance, which are not great.”

“Then let them rest in shifts,” the Guardian suggested.

“The kank need not be driven. Its instinct will be to follow you. The princess can sleep while Ryana remains awake, to make sure she does not slip off and injure herself. Then, after the princess has slept, Ryana can take her turn.”

Sorak nodded. “That is a sensible suggestion. We shall have enough to worry about just making it safely across the barrens without having to deal with Torian. And by traveling at night, when it is cooler, we can make better time.”

“It will also be more dangerous,” the Guardian reminded him. “We shall all have to stay alert.”

“The Watcher has never failed us before,” said Sorak.

“There has never been so much at stake before,” the Guardian replied. “The Watcher misses nothing, but do not let dependence on the Watcher lull you into a false sense of security. We all shall have to remain vigilant.”

Sorak glanced over his shoulder at Ryana and the princess, riding atop the kank. Ryana looked tired. The unaccustomed heat was getting to her. The princess lolled against her back, holding her around the waist. They were both doubtless looking forward to the coolness of the night, and rest. He did not relish having to tell them that they would be traveling all night. They would have to make at least a short stop when the sun began to set, to rest for perhaps an hour or two before continuing on their way, but the Guardian was right. If Torian chose to press on after them, they could not afford to stop for the night.

Soon, at least, the hottest part of the day would be over. Traveling at night would be easier, if not safer. But then they would have to press on throughout the following day. And there was no way of knowing how many days it would take for them to cross the barrens. It would be hard on Ryana. As for the princess ... he did not think she could take many more such days. Perhaps Eyron was right, and they should not have taken her along. She had agreed to go willingly enough, but she had not really known what to expect. If she died of exposure out here in the barrens, her life would be on his conscience.

His thoughts turned once again to the Sage, the object of their quest. Why had the mysterious wizard sent them this way? Was it merely a test of their resolve, or was there some other purpose to sending them across the barrens? He recalled what Torian and Ankhor had said. No one had ever made it across the barrens alive. Was it possible the Sage was actually hiding some-where amidst all this desolation? What better place for a preserver wizard to conceal himself than in a searing, rock-strewn, lethal stretch of desert that no one dared to enter? But then, the voice in the flames had told them to go to Nibenay. The barrens were merely an obstacle they had to overcome on their way there. Over and over again, as he picked his way among the rocks, Sorak asked himself the question, “Why? Why the barrens?” And as the sun began to sink lower in the sky, he looked out ahead of him and saw nothing but jagged rocks, boulders, and outcroppings stretching out as far as the eye could see. The dim gray line on the horizon, the Barrier Mountains, seemed no closer than when they had started out.

“This is pointless,” said the mercenary captain, reining in his kank. “They will never make it across this stony waste alive. If we go on, we shall only die out here, as they will. My men will go no farther.” Torian wheeled his mount to face him. He glanced at the other mercenaries, eight of them in all, not counting himself and the captain. Their sullen faces told him they felt as their captain did.

“You will do as you are told.” said Torian firmly.

“We did not sign on for this,” the captain protested. “We were hired to protect the caravan along the trade route, not go chasing off into the barrens on some fool’s errand.”

Torian drew his dagger and threw it with such speed that the motion seemed little more than a blur. The knife flew through the air with unerring accuracy and plunged into the soft hollow of the mercenary captain’s throat. The captain made a coughing, gagging sound, and his hands went up to the blade as blood spurted from his mouth. He fell from the kank to land in a heap upon the rocky ground, his blood staining the stones. Before any of the others could react, Torian had drawn his sword. Like his knife, it was made of steel, rare and almost priceless, the sort of weapon only a very wealthy noble could afford, assuming he was fortunate enough to find one.

“Does anyone else think this is a fool’s errand?” Torian said. “Then come try your hand against this fool.”

The mercenaries glanced at one another, then at their dead captain, lying at their feet. Torian knew just what they were thinking. There were eight of them, and he was only one. But though the odds favored them, he had a steel blade, and they all knew what that meant. Their own obsidian blades would shatter against his, and he had already given them a lethal demonstration of his abilities. Nobles were not generally known as fighters, but Torian had learned the blades from early childhood with the finest weapons master in Gulg, and he was confident not only of his skills, but of his ability to intimidate the soldiers. They were merely peasant mercenaries, after all, and a lifetime of subservience to the upper classes had conditioned them against even the thought of raising their weapons to an aristocrat.

Still, to guard against that possibility, Torian prudently chose to drive his point home a bit more forcibly. “Your captain was a fine tracker,” he said. “His abilities were almost the equal of my own. Perhaps one of you has similar skills. Perhaps you will find your way back out of the barrens on your own, without me. On the other hand, perhaps not. Either way, choose and choose now. But I tell you this, the only way that any of you will go back is if I am lying there, beside your captain.”

The mercenaries exchanged nervous glances once more. Even before they replied to him, Torian knew he had already won.

“We shall follow you, my lord,” one of the men said.

“Good,” said Torian. “You are now captain. Your pay shall reflect your new status. Additionally, each of you shall be awarded the sum of fifty gold pieces when we return with the Princess Korahna.”

He smiled at the greedy fire in their eyes. Fifty gold pieces was an unheard of king’s ransom to these men. They could serve for the remainder of their lives and never see such a sum. To Torian, it was a mere pittance. His was one of the richest families on Athas, with extensive holdings and close business ties to the House of Ankhor, one of the most powerful of the merchant guilds. And once he had Korahna for his wife, he would be one of the most politically powerful aristocrats on Athas, as well, allied to not one, but two royal houses. For that, he would crawl across the barrens, if he had to.

“My knife, captain,” he said. The newy promoted mercenary captain pulled the steel blade from the throat of his predecessor, wiped it off on his body, and handed it up to Torian.

“We ride,” said Torian, turning his mount and heading west. The mercenaries followed. Any one of them, he knew, could easily strike at him once his back was turned, but he also knew none of them would. Not now. Strike at a man’s fear, he thought, and then appeal to his greed, and he is yours forever. He knew what tools to use for manipulating men.

But what tools had Korahna used to manipulate the elfling? Had she appealed to his masculine instincts as a woman in distress? That was certainly possible, but then Sorak was not a man. He was an elfling, and neither elves nor halflings were known for placing the interests of others ahead of their own. How had she convinced Sorak to help her escape?

Had she promised him wealth? Had she promised him her body? He did not think it was the latter. A desperate woman might well turn to the last resort of offering sexual favors, but then the elfling had a traveling companion who, while a priestess, was no less desirable than the princess. And villichi priestesses, though often celibate, were not always vowed to chastity.

Wealth, then. A reward from the Veiled Alliance for her safe return. Yes, he thought, that would make the most sense.

The Veiled Alliance would, indeed, pay handsomely to have her back. A daughter of a sorcerer-king who had taken the preserver vows would be a powerful weapon in their hands. And elves had a love of money that surpassed that of even the greediest humans. As for the priestess, she would, of course, be strongly motivated to come to the aid of a fellow preserver, provided Korahna was able to convince her that she was sincere. Yes, now that he understood their motives, he felt better. It was always helpful to understand one’s enemy, and Sorak, in stealing Korahna from him, had declared himself Torian’s lifelong enemy. He would soon realize exactly what that meant, thought Torian, and he would come to regret it bitterly.

He turned his attention once more to the ground ahead of him. He soon picked up the trail. There had not been much of a trail to follow from the spring. He had risen early, as he always did, to practice in the still-cool morning air with his blades, and as he stepped outside his tent, he heard a curious noise. A short distance from his tent, he had discovered the guard Sorak had tied up. The man had painstakingly inched his way back toward the tents, crawling like a caterpillar. When Torian cut his bonds, the man had told him what had happened. Torian immediately ran to Korahna’s tent.

The sentries on duty outside had told him that the princess was still asleep inside, and that no one had been by since they had taken up their posts. Torian had thrown aside the tent flap, gone inside, and found no trace of Korahna. But he found the slit she had made with her knife in the back wall of the tent. He had personally killed both sentries, then, before raising the alarm, he carefully followed the trail Korahna had left behind. The sand blown by the desert wind had covered up any footprints she had made but he found broken twigs on a scrub brush she had brushed past, and the trampled new shoots where she had stepped. He had already known where her trail would lead. He saw where the elfling and the villichi priestess had camped the previous night, and he realized that she had fled with them. He surmised that Sorak had stolen the guard’s footgear to replace Korahna’s dainty sandals. That, and the fact that they had not stolen any of the other kanks, told him which way they must have gone.

Had they taken the southern route, it would have made sense for them to steal two of the kanks in addition to their own so that they could make quick time to outdistance the pursuit they had to know would follow. But kanks would make no better time across the rocky barrens than a man traveling on foot, and with no forage to be found, they would have to feed their mounts from their supplies. Three kanks would deplete them quickly. With one, perhaps, they stood a chance. But it would be a very slim chance, indeed.

Torian had never heard of anyone surviving a trek across the barrens. Of all the races of Athas, elves and halflings possessed the greatest powers of endurance. Perhaps, against all odds, the elfling would make it. It was even possible the priestess would, as well, with the elfling’s aid. The villichi were rigorously trained to deal with all kinds of hardship.

But Torian had no illusions about Korahna’s surviving such a journey. The little fool would die out there in the barrens, even if they did not fall prey to the creatures who roamed there.

Korahna would also slow them down. He could not imagine her making the journey on foot. She would have to ride.

Probably the priestess would, as well. For all the training the villichi priestesses received, they were still human, and walking for days in the searing heat of the Stony Barrens would be beyond even their considerable capabilities. So that meant the kank would be burdened with at least two riders, if the elfling chose to go on foot. And their kank had been a food producer, not a soldier. It would not move as quickly as their own mounts.

How much of a head start could they possibly have? Five hours, maybe six? Certainly no more than that. They could be caught. At some point, they would have to stop and rest. As Torian carefully watched the ground ahead of him, he saw the occasional signs of the kank’s passage. Small stones dislodged from depressions in the ground, scratches upon larger stones made by the kank’s claws. He was grateful that his father had insisted on his training, and had not raised him as a pampered nobleman. His father had believed that training in the warrior’s art built character. His father had been right. A lesser man would have given up rather than risk pursuing his quarry into the barrens. Undoubtedly, that was precisely what the elfling was counting on. Well, thought Torian, he was due for a very unpleasant surprise.

As the sun started to sink on the horizon, Sorak decided to call a brief halt. The kank needed to be fed and they could use some nourishment, as well. Ryana joked exhausted and Korahna looked utterly done in. He helped them both down from the back of the giant beetle, and they practically collapsed with their backs against a large boulder. He passed the water skin to them and cautioned them to drink but sparingly, then watched to make sure they did not succumb to the temptation to drink in large gulps.

“Well, at least it is no longer quite so hot,” Ryana said with a wan smile.

Sorak used his knife blade to pry loose one of the honey globules from the kank’s abdomen and brought it over to them. He pierced the membrane with the point of his knife and gave it to Korahna. She squeezed out a little, then passed it to Ryana and leaned back against the boulder, her eyes closed. Sorak hated to have to tell them, but it was best not to delay the unpleasant news any longer.

“At least it will be cooler for the remainder of the night’s journey,” he said.

Korahna opened her eyes. “We are going on? You mean we are not stopping for the night?”

“We will only rest here for a short while,” Sorak replied. “The sooner we proceed on our way, the sooner we will reach the mountains.”

“You believe that we are being followed,” said Ryana flatly.

Sorak nodded. “Yes. And I believe that Torian will drive his mercenaries all night in an attempt to catch us. We cannot allow him to make up the time we have gained.”

“But you do not know for a fact that Torian is on our trail,” Korahna protested.

“No, I do not,” Sorak admitted. “But we cannot afford to assume that he is not. Either way, traveling at night will be easier for the absence of the scorching heat.”

“Also more dangerous,” Ryana said.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak, “but making camp here would not be any safer. We have nothing with which to build a fire. The night predators can attack us here as easily as while we are moving.”

“Are you not tired?” Korahna asked him, with wonder. “We have suffered from the heat, but at least we have been riding, while you have walked all day.”

“I am an elfling,” Sorak said, taking his seat across from them on the rocky ground. He stretched out his legs and flexed them. “I do not tire as easily as do humans. Nevertheless, the day’s journey has not been without its effect. It is good to sit, if only for a short while.”

Though he was capable of resting while the Ranger or one of the others came to the fore and took over, it was still the same body that made the exertions. And his elfling body, superbly conditioned though it was, did not possess infinite reserves of energy.

“How many more days’ journey do you think lie ahead of us?” Korahna asked.

Sorak merely shrugged. “I do not know. Distances appear deceptive in the desert. It could be three or four more days, if we make good progress, or it could be a week or more. I can see the mountains in the distance, but I cannot tell for sure how far away they are.”

Ryana made some quick mental calculations. “If it is more than three or four more days, we will run out of water,” she said flatly.

“We have the kank honey,” Sorak said. “We can add it to the water to extend our supply.”

“Kank honey is sweet,” Ryana said. “It will only increase our thirst.”

“Not if we add it in small amounts,” said Sorak.

“Even so,” Ryana said, “we have enough to last at most five or six days.”

“All the more reason to travel at night and make the crossing as speedily as possible,” said Sorak.

“Torian will be facing the same problems,” said Korahna. “Surely, he will turn back.”

“I do not think he is the sort to give up on a task once he has set his mind to it,” said Sorak. “He will probably be carrying more water, and his men will be mounted on soldier kanks, which can travel more quickly than our own beast.”

“So then you think he has a chance to catch us?” said Ryana.

“It would depend on when he started his pursuit, and whether or not he realized which way we had gone. And it would depend on the skill of his trackers.”

“Torian is a skilled tracker, himself,” Korahna said. “He often boasted of it. His father raised him as a warrior. He claims to have studied with the finest weapons master in Gulg. I saw him train one morning. He was easily able to best Lord Ankhor’s finest swordsmen.”

“Well, that’s certainly encouraging news,” said Ryana dryly.

“It is all my fault,” Korahna said. “Had I not come with you, there would have been no need for you to come this way, or fear pursuit.”

“We would have come this way regardless,” Sorak said. “And the journey would have been no easier to bear for your absence.”

“But why?” Korahna asked. “You could have taken the southern route, and without me along, you could have gone your way unmolested.”

“No,” said Sorak, “this is the way that we were meant to come.”

“Meant to come?” Korahna said, looking at him without comprehension. “Why? For what reason?”

“This was the way shown us by a spell,” said Sorak. “A spell released by the burning of a scroll that we obtained from the Veiled Alliance in Tyr.”

“The burning of a scroll?” said Korahna, sitting up suddenly and leaning forward. “And was there a specific time and place at which you were to burn it?”

Sorak frowned. “Yes. But how did you know that?”

“Because that is how the Veiled Alliance receives communications from the Sage,” Korahna said excitedly. “I have never seen such a scroll myself, but I have heard that these scrolls appear by magic to certain individuals, and that they are useless unless burned in a certain place and at a certain time. And that knowledge is said to come in dreams or visions perceived within a crystal. Bui it is said that only the secret masters of the Veiled Alliance ever see such scrolls. I had never known whether to believe such tales or not, until today. Why did you not tell me you were members of the Veiled Alliance? Was it that you did not trust the daughter of a defiler king?”

“No, it was because we are not members of the Veiled Alliance,” Sorak replied. “We had performed a service for them back in Tyr, and they had given us the scroll to aid us in our quest.”

“What quest?”

“To find the Sage,” said Sorak.

Korahna simply stared at him—“But no one has ever found the Sage!”

“Then I suppose we shall be the first,” said Sorak. He stood. “We had best be on our way.”

The weary women mounted up, and they moved off once again as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon. For a while, the desert was plunged into total darkness, and then the first of the twin moons rose, followed a short while later by the second, and the Stony Barrens were illuminated in a ghostly, bluish light.

“I know now why you brought me with you,” said Korahna as they slowly rode along behind Sorak, who picked his way among the rocks ahead of them. “I thought that you had merely taken pity on a fellow preserver, but you needed me to make contact with the Veiled Alliance in Nibenay.”

“That was Sorak’s idea,” said Ryana. “If you must know, I was against bringing you along. I knew the hardships you would face upon this journey, and I did not think you would survive it.”

“I see,” Korahna said, softly. “And do you still believe so?”

Ryana gave a small snort. “I am not yet convinced that any of us shall survive it. But you have shown more mettle than I gave you credit for. Who knows? We shall see.”

“You do not sound very confident.”

“Your spirit is strong, Korahna, but your body is weak,” Ryana replied. “I do not say that to condemn you, it merely happens to be the way things are. A strong spirit can often compensate for a body’s weakness, but we have been only one day on this journey, and already you are at the limits of your endurance. Do not mistake my meaning. I give you credit for your courage, but I do not know if it shall be enough to see you through this.”

“Better to die out here in the barrens, attempting to control my fate, than live with Torian and be controlled,” Korahna said. “Thus far, my life has been of little worth, and the strength of my beliefs has not been truly tested. If I must die, then at least I shall die as a preserver and not some rich man’s trophy. Hand me your sword.”

“Better you should save your strength,” Ryana said.

“No, better I should build it,” said Korahna. “And holding it will give me something upon which to focus my mind.”

“As you wish,” Ryana said, handing her the sword.

“It does not feel quite so heavy now,” the princess said, holding it out away from her body.

Ryana smiled. “Do not exhaust yourself,” she said. “There is more to learning how to use a sword than merely strengthening your arms. And even that does not come quickly.”

“But at least this is a beginning,” said Korahna.

“Yes, it is a beginning. But only a beginning. It takes many years of training to become proficient with a blade.”

“I have the rest of my life to learn,” Korahna said.

Indeed, Ryana thought to herself. Let us hope that the rest of your life lasts longer than the next few days.