Black Spice (Book 3) (4 page)

“After
what Mahai told us, I don’t know.  Perhaps not.  But know that Aiyan is a
master warrior.  He carries an enchanted sword that can cut through iron like
it was breadfruit.  He will kill Soth Garo.”

Caleem
didn’t seem impressed, but said, “That is good to know.”

The
highlands to the east pushed closer that afternoon, and the road curved over
the sloping ground, crossing narrow rushing streamlets on little bridges that
were only a few paces long.  At the first one, Mahai had everyone dump their
remaining water and refill the skins.

“This
is some of the best water on Mokkala,” he said.  “It comes down from springs in
the highlands.”

At
the end of the day, they entered a forest of tall trees, but it wasn’t like the
rainforest.  These trees didn’t spread a canopy that blocked out sun and sky.  Smaller
trees bearing fruit and nuts grew among them.  Kyric’s feet were sore.  He
figured they had walked close to forty miles in two days.

The
following morning, Mahai said to Aiyan, “We’re not so far from Mantua.  If
there are spies like you say, then you foreigners should not be seen.  I am
friends with one of the headmen.  I can slip in unnoticed, speak with him, and
be back tomorrow.”

Aiyan
agreed, and they spent the morning resting and eating from the trees.  Nakoa
showed them how to pick a delicate nut that Kyric had thought was an insect
cocoon.  He taught them how to determine ripeness and what to avoid. 
“Alright,” Kyric said to Lerica, “despite the snakes, it
is
paradise.”

They
picked a small sack of nuts and fruit for the trail, then Aiyan had Kyric get
into his hardened vest.  He had been surprised at how hot and heavy the vest
became when they were on the trail, and he took it off when they camped.  The
nut helmet was worse.  He had tied it to his knapsack within hours of leaving
Tiah.  Aiyan wore his helmet all day long, and he didn’t take his vest off until
he laid down to sleep.

Today
they would again practice knowing the moment of attack, using naked swords for
the first time.  “Leave off the blindfold,” Aiyan said.

Caleem
and Nakoa sat down to watch them.  The audience proved to be a distraction for
Kyric, and Aiyan took full advantage of that and the lack of a blindfold.  He
would make a joke and draw his sword while everyone was laughing, or he would
reach for his sword with a violent feint that started Kyric going for his, only
to stop short.  Of course as soon as Kyric saw it was a feint and decided not
to draw, Aiyan would attack in the blink of an eye.

“Wait,”
Kyric said, turning his back.  “Try it now.”

When
the moment came he pivoted on both feet and the flat of his blade slapped
against Aiyan’s vest only a fraction of second late.

“You
weren’t really trying your hardest,” Kyric said.

“I
was,” Aiyan said.  “And that was close enough to be called a tie.  That time,
you started moving before my intention to attack was even fully formed.  That’s
how it’s done.  Once you learn to draw your weapon quickly, you will be able to
land the first cut.”

“You’ve
always said it’s not about speed.”

“Well,”
said Aiyan, “ah, it’s not.  But you still have to be fast.”

“I’ve
practiced the draw with this sword a thousand times.  I’m trying to get faster
but I’ve hit a wall.”

“Practice
another thousand.  And don’t try to do it quicker, try to do it more
calmly
. 
Remember to invoke stillness with every movement.”

Aiyan
glanced at the others.  Caleem sat motionless and Nakoa’s eyes were wide.

“I
think that’s enough practice for today.”

Kyric had known that he was getting better
with the sword and the weird.  He had in fact made some long strides the last
couple of weeks.  He could feel it.  And even though he didn’t spar with Lerica
any longer, he knew that he could handle her.  Well, at least when it came to
swordplay.

Mahai
returned at noon the next day.  He brought a short, stocky Manutu with a
four-foot blowgun.

“This
is Chief Witaan, the friend I told you about.  He, uh, really wanted to come
along.”

Witaan
looked young for a chief, barely older than Mahai.  He told them that the
Manutu had scouted far to the south, into Onakai territory, and had found no
sign of Soth Garo’s army.  A group of refugees had told them that there was
only a small garrison of Hariji at Kai’no.

“Maybe
they went back to Hariji land to regroup,” Mahai said.

“Perhaps,”
said Aiyan.  His Baskillian was getting better by the day.  He paced up and
down for a moment.

“I
understand that this road runs all the way to the biggest Silasese village, the
southern one.  Does it go over the divide?”  They all knew that a long,
mountainous ridge ran down the east side of the island.  From a distance it
seemed to rise into the vertical as it came to a crest.

“No,”
Mahai said, “there’s a low place where the mountain splits.”

“Is
there another way, one that might not be watched?”

“Sure,
if you don’t mind climbing a little.  You think he is there?”

“If
the Silasese are as few as you say.  He’s shown that his army can move
quickly.  Even with a weakened force he could defeat them and take many
prisoners to fill his ranks.  It’s what I would do.”

Aiyan
decided they would head for the Silasese town on Whale Home Bay.  Witaan led
them around Mantua’s outlying settlements following narrow footpaths.  They
crossed the road east of the town and kept to the game trails, pushing farther
south, wading a stream that came up to their armpits.

They
were still in the forest as twilight began to close in.  “We’ll cross the
highlands tomorrow, and late in the day we will enter the cassia woods of the
Silasese,” Mahai said.

They
broke into the open the next morning, traversing a grassy lowland.  By midday
they were working their way up a dry wash.  Above them, the ridge looked
impassable.  Kyric looked back.  He could see all the streams that ran west from
the highlands, and in the center of the forest a wisp of smoke coming from Mantua. 
To the north, a wide valley opened into Bantuan territory.

Thick
shrubs clustered at the head of the wash.  They pushed through and stood at a
tall cave opening.

“No
worries,” said Mahai.  “It only goes a hundred paces before it opens on the
other side.”

It
wasn’t so much a cave as a natural tunnel.  The wind blew hard at the eastern
entrance.  Below lay a wooded glen, and past a low line of hills a patch of
blue merged with the summer haze.

“Whale
Home,” Mahai said.  “The great bay of the Silasese.”

They
walked down the slope, more gentle on this side, and into the valley.  The
taller trees stood thick with rust-colored blossoms, and the smaller, bushy
ones were bright with yellow flowers.  Then the wind gusted and a scent like
cinnamon struck them.  They all smiled at each other.

“At
least they won’t smell us coming,” Kyric said.

“No
more talking,” Aiyan said quietly, “it’s possible that they could be patrolling
this far out.  Everyone go carefully.”

They
went single file, stepping lightly, right up to the line of hills, not seeing
or hearing anyone.  Mahai led them to a spring-fed pond.

“It’s
a little unusual that no one is here,” he said.  “This is one of their main
cassia groves.”

“Find
a concealed spot to spend the night,” Aiyan told Kyric, waving for Mahai to
come with him and starting up the hill.

Caleem
told them that the water was alright to drink, and while they filled their
skins he picked fresh greens from the water’s edge.

Nakoa
nodded with approval.  “I saw some ripe
dra
berries.  We can have spiced
liat
salad tonight.”

Kyric
helped him pick the berries.  After a time, Aiyan and Mahai returned. 
“Something is going on,” Aiyan said.  “There’s too many fires outside the
town.”

Mahai
nodded.  “Like an army had made camp there.”

“But
we really couldn’t see anything,” Aiyan said.  “We’re still several miles
away.”

Nakoa
and Caleem started making the
liat
salad.  Witaan seemed happy to let
them.  Mahai tried to join in but they shooed him away.

“Do
you have enough red pepper?” he asked them.  “I have plenty.”

“Yes,
my prince,” answered Nakoa.  “Just leave us to it.”

Apparently
this was a traditional dish that everyone made a little differently, the greens,
the peppers, and a paste made from the berries being the foundation.  They then
added nuts and dried fruit to taste along with different spices, placing it all
in sack and shaking it.

“Wait
till you get a bite of this,” Mahai said to Kyric.  “It will make you breathe
fire.”

“But
I don’t want to breathe fire.”

Lerica
smiled knowingly.  “Of course you do, dear.”

Twilight
had encircled them by the time it was ready.  Lerica had brought a couple of small
wooden plates from the ship.  Aiyan ate out of his helmet, and Caleem had a
ceramic bowl.  Nakoa and Mahai used palm leaves and fingers, and licked the
last of the spiced berry sauce off them when they finished.  Kyric looked at
Lerica.  After Terrula, he didn’t think he could eat off a palm leaf again.

Aiyan
scooted close to Kyric and said to him in Avic, “He’s there.  I can feel him. 
Tomorrow will be a day of knowing the place and knowing the moment.  Our weird
senses must be very sharp.”

Kyric
stared into the deepening dusk, letting himself go empty.  There was something
he had suspected, and now he was more sure of it.

“When
you killed the captain, it broke the spell he had on me.  But I’m still tainted
with his blood.  It doesn’t wash away.  And the black blood knows itself.  I
fear that he can feel me, that he’s close to finding me.”

“Soth
Garo?”

Kyric
answered in a whisper.  “No. 
Cauldin
.”

Darkness
had come, and they sat in the light of a quarter moon. Witaan had already
fallen asleep, and the others were getting ready to bed down.

“I’m
so tired I can barely move,” Lerica said with a yawn.

“Same
here,” said Aiyan, curling up with his sword.

Lerica
flopped down on the soft spot she had picked out, and Kyric followed.  He tried
to say goodnight to her, but his tongue was suddenly numb.  He couldn’t lift
his head.  As he slid into blackness, he realized what it was.

He
had been drugged.

Something
hard, digging into his back, drove him to wake.  He lay against a rocky
outcropping on the lower slopes of a volcano.  Bone-white rocks against a jet-black
sky — no stars at all shone through.  He stood and looked around.

It
was a nightmare landscape.  Below him, a river of molten rock flowed into a
lake of fire.  Above him, lava ran from the summit in dozens of rivulets.  In
the distance more volcanoes jutted up from the ocean of rock, throwing ash and
flaming stones into the sky.

Someone
was out there, looking for him.

Yes,
far behind, silhouetted against a glowing pool, a man moved toward him,.  The
man carried a very long bow, and Kyric carried no weapons at all, not even a
knife.

The
volcano above shuddered, a spill of lava lapping over the rim and becoming a
molten river that rushed right at him.  He needed a crevasse to open in front
of the lava, one wide enough to divert it, but that wasn’t something he could
find.  Maybe he could get above it.

He
turned and examined the outcropping he had lain against.  It was a tall
crystal, and now he could see by some kind of inner light, handholds and
footholds cut in the side.  He climbed to the top and the river of lava was
split, flowing around the crystal to rejoin on the other side.  Kyric was safe,
but he was trapped.

The
dark figure moved more quickly now, eager to get to his prey.  Kyric saw the
light coming from his eye.  It was him.

So
I was right, Master Cauldin is hunting me in the land of dreams.

Then
he realized with a shock:  Cauldin has the power of a dreamer.  He had dreamed
the lava to overflow.

Kyric
had to get away.  Now.  What would Rolirra do?  She would call on some kind of
flying creature to whisk them away.  But what kind of creature would fly in
this sulfur-choked hell, and how would he call one?

She
had always made a sound.  But there was nothing here but a few loose rocks . .
. and the crystal he stood upon.

He
smashed one of the stones against the outcropping, and at once it began to hum
in a high but gentle pitch.  Something rose from the valley below, floating on
the air.  It looked a little like a runaway sail on a windy day, folded back on
itself like a canvas balloon, trailing thick ropes from a clump where the
corners of the skin came together.

It
came closer, a writhing, buoyant bag of hide dotted with large human eyes and a
few strands of thorn-like hair.  Kyric leapt, grabbing hold of one of the ropey
tentacles.

Even
with his weight, the creature continued to rise toward the summit of the volcano. 
Kyric floated over the steaming red rivulets, and then the creature passed the
rim, and he hung in the glow of a lake of molten rock.

An
arrow flashed by, going all the way through the creature and leaving a wide
rent in its flesh.  No blood came from the wound, only a misty gas.  Another
arrow struck, piercing one of the eyes.  A long low whine came from where the
eye had been along with more of the air inside.  They began to descend.

From
out of the black sky, a dozen of the gasbag creatures surrounded them, pushing
in close and holding up the wounded one.  Kyric took the ropes of one of those,
and all together they floated past the volcano.  A hot current of air swept
them over the lava plain and beyond.  Kyric spotted a huge opening in the
ground below, and the gas bag creatures descended towards it, going through,
swallowed by the darkness of an immense cavern.

After setting him on the floor of the
cavern, the things floated away.  He wandered in the dark, looking for a way
out, afraid that Cauldin wasn’t far behind him.  Then the ground shook, and he
stumbled, falling into the blackness.

He
didn’t want to open his eyes, but Lerica was shaking him.  She pinched him on
the arm, hard.

“Okay,
okay,” he said.  “I’m awake.”  He sat up and the world rocked to one side.

Caleem
lay face down on the ground in a pool of moonlight.  Aiyan crouched over him,
pinning him with a one-handed arm bar and holding the prince’s spear in his
other hand.

“Wake
Mahai next,” he said to Lerica.

“You
have it wrong,” Caleem said, panic creeping into his voice.  “I heard something
out there and I only wanted to get you up.”

“You
were reaching for my sword,” Aiyan said flatly.

“No. 
I was reaching to nudge you awake.”

“I
was already awake.  And I didn’t hear anything.”

Lerica
knelt next to Mahai, apparently deciding that pinching was the only way.

“Ow! 
What?” he said, jerking upright with a start.  He blinked into the night. 
“Black spice.”

Lerica
looked at him.  “Huh?”

“It
feels like we’ve eaten black spice.  Purple gavdi is a spice with a delicate
flavor.  It has a mild jollifying effect.  But if you mash it together with the
petals of the flower and cook it, it becomes a drug.  We call it black spice
because it can do harm or good depending how it is used.  Fortunately, a pinch
of salt will clear our heads.”

“I
have some salt in my pack,” Lerica said.

“Not
land salt,” Mahai said.  “We need sea spice — salt from the ocean floor.  I
always carry some.”

“Do
it quickly,” Aiyan said.  “Lerica, are you alright?”

“Yes. 
It’s fading fast.  I don’t need any of that salt.”

“Good. 
I want you to go once around the camp, then get up a tree and keep watch.  Go
now.”  She disappeared into the darkness, and he nodded to Kyric.  “We need
more light.  See if you can make a torch.”

Once
he had Mahai’s salt in him, Kyric felt himself again.  Aiyan didn’t take any of
it.  Lerica signaled ‘all clear,’ so they lit the torch and brought Caleem to
his feet, Witaan and Nakoa holding him up against a tree.

“It
wasn’t me,” pleaded Caleem.  “It must have been Nakoa.  Don’t you see?  They’ve
been fooling you.  He and Mahai were both captured by Soth Garo and now they
serve him.  It’s them, not — ”

Aiyan
jabbed him with two fingers, just below his breastbone, and suddenly he
couldn’t speak.  “If you don’t stop shouting, I will break your jaw,” Aiyan
said with frightening softness.

Mahai
removed Caleem’s belt and opened his spice pouches.  “Here it is.  A small bag
of black spice inside his cardamom pouch.”

“Remove
those vambraces,” Aiyan said, taking the belt from Mahai.  “I want to bind his
hands.”

Kyric
unbuckled the first vambrace.  Thick, half-healed welts encircled his wrist. 
It was the same beneath the other one.

Kyric
ran his fingers across them.  “Rope burns.”

Aiyan
stepped close to Caleem.  “So they tied you up and beat you for a few days. 
And when you couldn’t stand it any longer Soth Garo offered you his blood with
the promise that the torture would stop.  You didn’t know what it would do to
you, so you took it willingly.”

Caleem
shook his head desperately.  “No, no.  The marks are from an accident with a
fishing net.”  He took on a look of fierce determination.  “I am a prince of
the Tialucca, and I demand that you release me.  My father will hear of this. 
He will make you suffer for this.”

Aiyan
turned to Kyric.

Kyric
held the torch close to Caleem’s face.  “Did you slip us the black spice?”

“Mahai
planted that bag in my spice pouch.”

Kyric
froze.

He
couldn’t tell.  The remnants of the black spice clouded his inner eye.  For the
first time since he was a child, he couldn’t tell if someone was lying to him. 
It made him feel blind.

“I
know how he did it,” Nakoa said.  “He filled his bowl first, then tasted it and
said that it needed more pepper.  He tossed what I thought was red pepper into
the sack and shook it, but he let me be the one to taste it the second time. 
It was so hot that I didn’t notice the black spice.”

“I
saw that too,” Aiyan said.

Mahai
cocked his head.  “You didn’t need salt.  You never ate the tainted meal.”

“No.”

“You
did,” Caleem said.  “I saw you.”

Aiyan
smiled grimly.  “When I went to use the bushes, I filled my pockets with fresh
liat
leaf.  When it got dark I swapped helmets with Kyric and ate the plain greens
out of his.”

“It
was only pepper,” Caleem said.  “I tell you that these Onakai are the ones. 
You don’t know them like I do.  Their totem is the shark, and that is how they
behave.”

Kyric
turned to Mahai.  “Do you serve Soth Garo?  Did you taste of the black blood?”

“I
did not,” answered Mahai.

“Nor
did I,” Nakoa said firmly.

Kyric
felt sick.  He really couldn’t tell.  Aiyan was looking to him, waiting for an
answer.

“Let
me try another tack,” Kyric said to him in Avic.  “Sit him down so we can be
comfortable.”

Aiyan
bound Caleem’s hands in front of him with the belt.  They lowered him to the
ground and let him rest against the tree.  Kyric went down on one knee and
leaned close to him.

“You
love him,” he said gently.  “I understand that more than you know, for I have
tasted the black blood myself.  And you have no doubt that he loves you as a
dear brother.  He loves you more than your father ever could.”

Kyric
let his voice drop to a whisper.  He was taking a chance with his next words,
but he said them anyway.  “He loves you,
even knowing the cowardice you hide
in your heart
.”

Caleem
looked away from him, and he pressed on.

“I
know you want to please him and do what is best for him.  But you made a
mistake tonight.  You have revealed yourself and allowed yourself to be
captured.  And he will not love you for this.  He will say that you should have
killed us all.  Just as you have displeased your father all your life, just as
you couldn’t earn his love no matter how hard you tried, so it will be with
your new brother.  He will not be able to love you now, and he will not want
you near him.”

Caleem
had lowered his head as Kyric continued to speak, his eyes closed tight, and
now he bent forward, shaking with silent sobs.

 “I
think we have the truth at last,” Kyric said, wiping away a tear of his own. 
He handed the torch to Mahai and walked away into the darkness.  Aiyan followed
him.

“Kyric,
where did you learn . . . how did you know to . . . to say such things?”

Kyric
threw his head back.  He was over it already.  “I just substituted the word
‘father’ for ‘mother.’”

They
bound Caleem’s ankles with another belt.  He didn’t resist.  The moon had only
moved a little since they passed out.  They had the whole night ahead of them.

“We’ll
need to set a watch,” Aiyan said.  “More to guard the prince than anything, for
he is sure to attempt escape.”

“I’ll
take care of that,” Kyric said.  He looked around until he found Aiyan’s helmet
with the drug-laced salad.  He set it down in front of Caleem.

“Eat.”

Caleem
looked up.  “I’m not hungry.”

“Eat
it,” Kyric said, “or I’ll bash you in the head so hard you won’t wake up for
days.”

Caleem ate.

They
kept a watch anyway, and, as usual, Aiyan had them up before the sun.  He
wasn’t sure what to do about Caleem.  They couldn’t leave him here.

“We
need a safe place to stash him until I can take care of Soth Garo.”

Witaan
had the solution.  “I know of a hunting lodge in the woodlands near Tialucca
land.  There will be men there who can help.  Send Nakoa with me and we will take
him there.”

Aiyan
was doubtful.  “You don’t realize how desperate they get.  He would do anything
to get away.  He would break his own leg to slow you down.”

Nakoa
smiled.  “We’ll keep feeding him the black spice until we get there.  He’ll be
no trouble.”

Aiyan
agreed in the end, having nothing better, so they marched off, Witaan and Nakoa
each with a hand on Caleem’s belt to hold him up.  He stumbled along miserably,
his head hanging down.

Before
the rest of them started east, Aiyan scrubbed out the nut helmets.  Kyric was
suddenly unconcerned for the heat.  He strapped his helmet on and tightened the
laces of his body armor.  Then something in his gut tore loose, the cramp nearly
bending him over.  It was all that red pepper he had eaten.  It subsided
quickly and he joined the others.

They
headed toward the Silasese town, climbing to a low saddle between two tall
hills.  They crested the ridge and held their hands up against the rising sun. 
The morning haze lay thick on the land and they couldn’t see anything.  Then
the sea breeze brought them the sound of drums.  Many drums.

“I
had forgotten,” Lerica said.  “Tonight is Winter’s Eve.  Merry Solstice,
everyone.”

“That
means it’s Midsummer Day here below the line,” Aiyan said.