The Sorcery Within

XXXIX

ELENYA STROLLED ACROSS THE BRIDGEof Xurosh, easing the languor of alcohol with a dose of desert night sky and cool air. The revelry within Xurosh was a soothing buzz. The sentries recognized her and let her go her way. She stopped in the middle of the span. The gorge yawned underneath her, its bottom lost in shadow as Motherworld headed for the horizon. The trade route that caused so much conflict was completely hidden.

The fight was over. A month earlier, the mercenaries had given up the siege. Now, the first caravan of the season had arrived, offering a tribute greater than any given to the Zyraii in several generations. Soon, Lonal could feel safe leaving the maintenance of the fortress to capable, lesser hands and would finally be free to make good on his promise to take Elenya to Setan.

So, in a way, she had double reason to celebrate. Yet here in the quiet, tired from the evening's merrymaking, she was wistful. The months at Xurosh had meant a long, sometimes frustrating vigil, but in another sense it had been an enjoyable interlude. She had a respected place within the community of defenders. It had been easy to know what was expected of her. Here, everyone had been a prisoner, exiled from their homes, united in camaraderie. That would end after tonight.

In the back of her head was an itch. She had felt it inside the fortress an hour before. It was stronger this time, as if the walls had muted it. She almost managed to ignore it, blaming it on the wine, until she felt a stirring from the jewel on her chest. She was aware of lifting the amulet to her forehead.

The signal came – brief, distant, but perfectly clear.

She had been gone from Xurosh only a few hours when she heard the sound of a single oeikani and rider rounding the bend. She roused herself from her resting place at the edge of the road and was on her feet as he appeared. The morning sun cast a halo around him, but she had no difficulty recognizing him. She placed herself in his path.

Lonal regarded her stiffly, his veil and cowl in place. When she didn't run, he dismounted and tethered his reins to a stone.

"Why?" he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. She gestured at the badlands behind her. "My brother has sent for me. I have to go to him."

"You couldn't tell me this?"

"When I find him, I am certain we will go to Setan."

Lonal drew away the coverings from his face. She could still see a small scar on his forehead from the battles of Xurosh. He was still as handsome as ever, but he was no longer the unmarked youth she had met on her arrival in the desert. He held out his right hand. He had another scar there, on his wrist. It matched the one on hers.

"You have come far among the Zyraii," he said. "Don't lose your honor now. I would have kept my promise, in no more than another few weeks."

"There's no time to waste. Something has happened. I can't risk the wait."

"By law, I am required to stop you."

She nodded. "I know that. Will you?"

"Yes," he whispered.

She sighed and slid her rapier out of its sheath.

He drew his scimitar.

Elenya's head ached from the previous night's drinking. She hadn't slept all night. Lonal, however, was probably in the same state, and he wasn't as rested. She weighed each factor, one by one, trying to take each advantage and disadvantage into account. Too much thinking. She needed to clear her mind and concentrate on the task of defending herself.

They closed the gap slowly. They had both seen each other's mettle at Xurosh. They circled, just out of range, testing the ground. Elenya tucked back a stray lock of hair. She kept her rapier point out of reach of his weapon, peripherally aware of the roadway underneath her and the hills on either side. Her oeikani nibbled noisily at the feed she had set out for it.

They lunged.

She bit her lip, stifling the pain in her thigh. He jumped back, transferring his scimitar effortlessly into the other hand. A small spot of blood stained the upper arm of his garment.

She should have died. She had left her lower body open. Just as he had exposed his heart.

He lowered his scimitar.

She sheathed her rapier.

"This is pointless," he said. "I'll give you a day's lead. When you reach the Ahloorm, ride upriver. When a large stream merges from the west, follow it to its source. You will come to Setan. I'll be behind you, with a party of Po-no-pha. They may be able to do what I cannot."

"Lonal?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He met her gaze, pretending to be stern but failing. "I don't know why I put up with so much trouble from you. Bind that wound and get moving. I want to know myself what you've come so far to find."

So do I, she thought as he turned and rode back toward Xurosh.