Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun (16 page)

“Run!” Zera cried from very near the winged creature, her voice throaty and strained from the labors of battle. Head spinning, Leitos bounced unsteadily to his feet.

“Damn your foolish hide, flee!” Zera commanded, sounding nearer. Then he saw her, just a hazed shape amid the swirling mists of the winged creature. Her sword slashed and stabbed, a fury of motion driving back the
Alon’mahk’lar
. As soon as he saw her, she was lost from sight, and the winged creature screamed into the face of the night. As that eye-watering cry raced over the desert, Leitos heard Zera once more.
“LEAVE!”

His feet carried him away before he registered that they had turned. His shoulders hunched defensively, as another of those shrieks rose above the din and cascaded into the black depths of the gorge.

The road dropped precipitously, and the raging tumult lost much of its ferocity, sounding as if it were far above him. Leitos ran on, his treacherous heart pumping the searing poison of shame through his veins. It did not matter that he could not have done anything, save get himself killed. What did matter was that he had left Zera behind, abandoned her to a fate worse than death. She had commanded him, but in this instance obedience was unforgivable. Just as he was about to turn, a prolonged keening wail, no more human than any of the other sounds he had heard this night, pushed him onward.

After another mile, Leitos’s legs gave out, dropping him to the roadway. He lay curled in the dust, taking bitter solace from the blanket of darkness covering him. He wished the night was a black sea, churned by impartial tides that would sweep him away … away from all regret and fury and trouble.

Zera’s words came to him then.
“There is no place for weakness and self-pity in this world. You die or you survive. Life under the rule the Faceless One is struggle and pain and sorrow. If you are favored by the Silent God, you may enjoy a rare and fleeting moment of joy. Lying down, surrendering, leads to death—slow or fast it may come, but it is death all the same…. Decide, Leitos, because there are many others who would chance all the remaining moments of their lives for the opportunity you have been given.”

Of the beautiful Hunter, he was certain she had given her life for him, as had Adham. He owed them more than surrender.

“Get up,” he commanded himself. He shoved his hands under his chest and pushed up, struggling through the oppressive weight of the night, and all the troubles it had brought him.

He stood in the middle of a forgotten road that led north to a forgotten city, and south to a haven of the
Alon’mahk’lar
. Unless some living horror came out of the north, he committed himself to wait until dawn for Zera’s unlikely return. After that, he would proceed to Zuladah, using the denizens of that city to confuse his trail for those who hunted him, be they men or Sons of the Fallen….

At a rattle of stone, Leitos whirled, ready to defend himself. Zera came into view, looking none the worse for wear.

“You are alive?” Leitos said in a breathless murmur.

“You expected otherwise?” she replied.

“I—I,” Leitos sputtered. Then burst out, “How? There were so many … and the one, it … it—”

“It died like the rest,” Zera said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Swords kill, when wielded properly.”

“But
how
?” Leitos persisted. He had fled
knowing
she would die, yet here she stood.

Zera sighed heavily. “Anything that has blood in its veins can lose that blood, if the proper means are used.” She frowned then. “Of course, had you heeded me, I would have dispatched those demon-spawn all the sooner. You and I need to talk about your failure to obey orders.”

“I did not want leave you,” Leitos said.

“Since things turned out well, I suppose you can be forgiven.” She offered him a smile that blurred the recurring images of the battle in his mind. “Come, we have many leagues to go before we can take a proper rest.”

Leitos stifled a groan, but knew they could not stay put. She had destroyed a number of
Alon’mahk’lar
, but more could come. Running was out of the question for Leitos, so they ambled along. Inside Leitos’s exhausted mind, he saw again that last battle, wondering how any one human could harbor the deadly skill needed to best such a dread host. In the end he decided it was a blessing beyond measure that Zera was a friend and not a foe.

M
orning found Leitos bleary-eyed and hungry. Zera directed him off the road and into the waiting desert. She followed, carefully obscuring their tracks. After a hundred paces, she announced that would have to do, and brought them to a hill comprised of rounded boulders that might have once been part of the large pillar of stone rising from their center. Similar formations jutted all around, making it anonymous.

“We will rest here for the day, and travel again tonight,” she said, circling around to the far side of the outcrop, and coming to a tiny opening. “We should reach Zuladah just after dawn.”

Zera took up an old dry stick, and used it to poke at the shadows beyond the opening under the boulders. Leitos recalled his first day away from the mines, and the snake he had killed and eaten, before stealing its shelter. He hoped that if Zera found a serpent, she did not want to eat it. He would, if he had to, but would rather have more of the dried meat she carried, along with a hunk of bread. Thinking on that, he almost laughed at his choosiness, after a lifetime spent eating thin porridge and the occasional beetle.

Still probing under the boulder, Zera dropped down and disappeared into the opening. Leitos waited until she called for him to follow, then crawled after her, careful to hide their tracks at her direction.

After a making his way on hands and knees for several paces, he came to a set of steep, narrow stairs leading down.

“Hurry,” Zera urged from farther down, bringing out her tiny firemoss sphere. “I’m starving, and filthy besides.”

Leitos descended the ladderlike stairs cut into the rock. Straight away he caught the scent of clean dampness on the air. They still had plenty of water, but after sloshing in a goat skin for any amount of time, it tasted of wet hide. The idea of having fresh water sent him rushing downward until he reached a sandy-floored cavern.

Leitos moved next to Zera, who was kneeling at the edge of a large pool. She had placed the small firemoss lamp in the crotch of a tripod made by strapping three sticks together near their tops, and splaying the legs. Its presence told him this was not her first time here.

The pool, a deep turquoise blue fading to black deeper down, dominated two-thirds of the rocky hollow. Sacks of what Leitos guessed were provisions rested against the base of one upward curving wall. The opposite wall loomed over a crude cot made from more sticks lashed together. Between the two sat a stone fire ring, a pile of twigs, and dried flakes of dung. Points of light pierced the vaulted ceiling, and Leitos reasoned that was how smoke from a fire escaped, filtering through those small holes and cracks, and dissipating before it drifted aboveground.

“It has little enough of comforts,” Zera said, dipping a cupped hand into the pool, “but it is adequate.”

To Leitos, it seemed a perfect sanctuary, save for one thing. “If someone blocks the entrance, how do we get out?”

Zera sipped water from her hand, then nodded approvingly. “Guarding your trust and finding an escape route are the best ways to stay alive and whole.” Leitos flushed at her praise. If Zera noticed his embarrassment, she did not let on.

“If it comes to leaving here undetected,” she said, pointing to the far side of the pool, “swim to the wall, then dive deep and—” She cut off. “Better that I show you, rather than try to explain.” With that, she began undressing.

Leitos’s mouth worked around dumbfounded silence. Just as she cocked her head in his direction, he whirled around. “I do not need to see it,” he blurted in a choked voice.

“Of course you do,” Zera said.

Quiet hung between them, growing more uncomfortable the longer it lasted, at least to him.

“Do you mean to swim with your clothes on?” she said after a time, her voice husky with what Leitos guessed was suppressed laughter.

He turned slowly, and his averted eyes involuntarily climbed from her toes to her legs, past her smooth belly, and finally came to rest on her face. He had expected her to be naked, and she was, save for a loincloth and a narrow band of cloth wrapped around her breasts. In the firemoss’ amber light, her skin glowed; her hands, neck, and face made a few shades darker from the sun.

Despite himself, what he noticed most were her wounds. Bruises, scrapes, cuts, and old scars mapped a tapestry of past battles over her skin. They did not detract from her beauty—he had spent his entire life seeing scars on the men of the mines—but it pained him to consider her suffering so.

“I suppose not,” he answered belatedly, shucking Pathil’s cloak. Next, he pulled off the itchy tunic the Hunter had given him. Though he had spent almost his entire life clad so, he felt self-conscious in just his skin and a loincloth.

“Can you swim?” Zera asked.

“A little,” he admitted, then told how he had collected waterbugs and fish on his little river island. He omitted how the flood had swept him downstream, and how if it had not been for Sandros snatching him from the river, he surely would have drowned.

“
You ate bugs
?” Zera said, wrinkling her nose in playful distaste.

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel. Too late Leitos looked away from the rounded, curving flesh of her backside, a sight that burned into his mind, left his mouth dry and his heart stuttering. She hit the surface like a well-thrown blade, barely disturbing the pool.

Leitos jumped in feet first. He popped up, breathless from the unexpected cold. Where she swam effortlessly to the stone wall, Leitos paddled awkwardly.

“This wall is the foot of the pillar you saw outside,” Zera said. “A little way down, there is an opening. Follow it a short way, then swim toward the light.” Leitos, doing all he could not to inhale water, simply nodded. She offered a slow, coy smile, then looked down. “Follow me.” In a graceful movement, her head and feet reversed themselves and she was gone.

Leitos floated amid rising bubbles, took a deep breath, then imitated her dive. Once underwater, he swept his arms back and kicked, the movement unpracticed, but familiar enough to give him confidence.

Darkness fell over him quickly. He kept kicking and reached out with one hand to touch the smooth stone wall. As Zera had promised, an opening presented itself. He swam into it, uncomfortably aware that it was akin to swimming into a yawning mouth. Just as his lungs began to ache for want of a fresh breath, he noticed a hazy glow ahead. He kicked harder, suddenly sure the immense weight of the pillar above him had waited eons for this exact moment to crumble—

He broke the surface before panic set in, and splashed to the edge of the second pool. This one was much smaller than the first, as was the cavern under which it hid itself. A lone shaft of sunlight sliced through the darkness from on high, lighting swirling motes of dust in a golden, enchanted glow. Leitos swam to a thin crescent of sand, climbed out of the water on his hands and knees, then rolled to his back, relishing each breath. The air was warmer in this cavern, and fresher.

“To escape, should the need ever arise,” Zera said, kneeling off to one side, “pass into the darkness just below the opening above. There is a fissure there, almost too narrow for even me, that leads out a little over a mile to the west. The way is dank, close, and blacker than any night. Once in, you cannot turn around. I took that way …
once
. Wriggling along like a blind worm, that single mile took a day and a night to travel.”

Between imagining what such a journey must have been like, and guessing that the need would have to be great indeed to prompt him to take it, Leitos’s eyes drifted shut. When they opened again, the light had changed from golden to ruddy.

“You have been asleep for hours,” Zera said, smiling. She was sitting cross-legged, idly tracing a finger through the sand.

“And you?” Leitos asked groggily.

“I took what rest I needed,” Zera answered, leaving Leitos to wonder if she had slept at all.

“And now we must swim back,” Leitos said, cringing at the memory of the cold water and the dark, breathless passage under the pillar.

“No point waiting,” Zera said with a playful grin.

She hopped to her feet, strode near, and leaned down. Her hair, hanging loose, tickled his nose. Her nearness set his heart to racing, but before he could do anything about it one way or another, she caught him under the arms, lifted him as easily as if he were a babe, and tossed him, squawking, into the pool.

Having made the trip once, the return swim was not nearly as terrifying as before. He popped up at the same time as Zera and paddled quickly, wanting to beat her to dry land. Zera, sensing what he was about, stroked smoothly to the lip of the pool, getting there just ahead of him. As with all she did, she climbed out of the pool with a uncanny grace, then stood waiting for him, water sluicing over her skin.

Mildly disgruntled, Leitos glanced at her hand held out to help him up. With a conceding nod, he took her hand. Before she could settle her feet, he abruptly jerked backward. Startled, Zera yelped as she flew over his head. Even before the echoing sound of her splash fled the rocky chamber, Leitos hurled himself up and out of the water. He was sitting calmly, as if he had been waiting there for hours, when Zera’s head crested the surface.

Treading water, she gazed at him. The inner light of her eyes danced with some emotion he did not recognize. It scared him a little, that strange fire, so unlike anything he had ever seen, and all the more because of what that radiance hid from him.
What is she thinking?
he thought, skin prickling.

He barely managed to keep his expression serene, but his heart had tripped into a faster beat. He scooted back when she climbed slowly out of the water, her stare unwavering. She crawled to him faster than he could retreat, the supple muscles of her arms and shoulders flexing and relaxing with every movement.