Skull Gate (28 page)

 

They rode the first part of the morning in silence. The withered fields of the ancient manor gave way to a rocky, blighted expanse and that, in turn, to a distant rise of rolling hillocks. There was no road; they made their own.

A light wind arose, stirred her hair around her face. The steady fall of the horses' hooves and the creaking of the wagon were the only sounds. She contrasted that with the first part of her journey, when she and Kimon had filled the air with song and verse. Privately, she wished Kimon would break out with a joyful tune now, but his attention seemed elsewhere; his gaze swept the far horizon left to right.

When the sun reached its zenith they paused to rest the horses, allowing them to drink a little, not much, from a small stream that purled across their path. Tras Sur'tian assumed charge of the animals, taking care they did not overindulge, either on the water or the plush grass.

Frost went to the wagon to fetch a drink from the stored skins and to check on the children. They slept unmoving under sweet enchantment, but the hot sun had turned their small, serene faces a tender pink. “Is there some way we can shade them?” she inquired of Onokratos.

“I'll rig something,” he answered curtly, and he began to experiment with ways to drape his cloak tent-like over the wagon's sides.

As she tipped the water-skin for a second cool drink, she noticed how Kimon stood off to one side away from the others. She carried the skin to him, offered it. When he turned, she saw how one hand rubbed his chest.

Her brows knitted in concern. “Does the wound hurt?” she whispered. “I thought Gel healed it?"

A tight frown. “It is healed,” he answered. “Yet, I feel something, not pain, but an
awareness
. The way a once-broken bone, though healed, tingles when the air is damp. You know?"

She nodded and surprised herself by reaching out to touch the place where Demonfang had drunk his blood. Her finger traced a small circle on the rough material of his jerkin. Regret and shame stilled her tongue. Words would not come.

“I had such visions,” he confessed suddenly. His eyes burned into hers. “Except they weren't visions.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trembled all over, the knuckles showing whitely through the taut skin of his clenched fists. “Terrible, dark things grabbing, clawing at me, dragging me down!” He ground those fists against his closed lids. “Fire! Fire everywhere! It seared!"

She grabbed his wrists, pulled them down, then flung her arms around him. She pulled him close, pressing his face down onto her shoulder. His body shivered; she felt his heart beating swiftly so near that vicious wound. A desperate longing filled her. “I know!” she comforted him. “I saw it, too!” She smoothed his hair. Her hand trailed over the tight muscles of his neck.

“There was blackness, an immense, unending void,” he hissed, his breath hot in her ear. “I didn't see or feel anything. I couldn't move.” His arms locked around her waist, nearly crushing her with the strength he exerted. “Then, I heard you calling. ‘Come back, Kimon,' you said. ‘Come back.'” He released her suddenly and stepped away. Terrible storms raged in the clear blue of his eyes. “And I did come back,” he said furiously. “I heard you, and I came."

She blinked, unable to find her voice.

His trembling ceased; he was in control of himself again. He scooped up the water-skin she'd dropped. Fortunately, the stopper had held firm, preventing any spillage. He slung it over his shoulder in the manner of the two special skins she still wore.

He regarded her evenly, the tempest gone from his gaze. “Samidar, I've done what I've had to do to get by in this world. Sometimes, I've murdered. I'm not ashamed of it."

“You tried to kill me,” she reminded him. “How can I forget that?"

He shook his head sadly. “I'm glad I failed,” he answered. “I've never failed before.” He cast a glance back toward the wagon. “I'm sorry Aki became involved."

She drew a long breath. “You're not really to blame,” she admitted. “I see that now. Though Gel claims his power is diminishing, he must have been much stronger a month ago. I doubt I could have prevented him from stealing the child."

He took a step closer; his fingers brushed her cheek. “I love you, Samidar. When I was...” He swallowed. “In hell I screamed your name over and over. I didn't want to leave you.” His hand wandered over her shoulder, down her arm. His fingers interlocked with hers. “I don't want to lose you,” he said fiercely. “I love you."

She didn't let herself think, just flowed into his arms and kissed him, forgetting everything else. She clung to him with all her might, and there was no space between them.

“You give me warmth,” she whispered, pressing his face to hers, “and strength to fill me for the rest of my days. So often I've denied my feelings. I've passed down the streets of red candles, seen figures holding each other in the cold and the shadows; I've ridden by hovels and farm huts late at night and seen old wives clinging to their husbands in the fireglow. Always, I pulled my cloak tighter and rode on in silence.” She pulled back a little, trapped his head between her palms, stared into his eyes with intensity. “Never let me be cold again,” she said. “I will live and die by your side, Kimon. I don't care what you've done. I've done worse."

His lips came down on hers. They stood for a long time holding each other.

A loud
crack!
interrupted them. Reflexively, Frost jumped away from Kimon, whirled, left hand gripping her sword's hilt.

Gel's dark shape leaned against the trunk of an old tree. He regarded them with a bemused smirk. In his hands he clutched a dead branch as long as his arm, nearly as thick. With startling ease he broke a piece of it and cast it aside. “She loves me.”
Snap
. He broke another piece. It fell at his feet. “She loves me not.”
Snap
. The crisp sound mocked the natural quiet of the forest. He destroyed the branch casually, a little at a time, an impressive display of muscular strength.

Yet the demon was not as amused as he would have Frost believe. Fire smoldered in his eyes; a dark mood underlay his words. No matter how she tried to hide it, he frightened her. Worse, she suspected he knew that.

“We've rested long enough,” she announced, cursing the quaver in her voice. She headed for the wagon. As she passed close to Gel she felt the heat radiating from his flesh, smelled his strange, musky odor. She set her gaze on the wagon and quickened her step.

Onokratos had found a way to shade the sleeping girls with his cloak. They would not bum in the bright sun. She saw him with Tras Sur'tian and the horses near the stream's bank. The two were engaged in animated conversation. Ashur stood patiently nearby. She went to the unicorn. grabbed a handful of his mane, and swung up. “Let's go!” she called. “We've wasted too much time. Move!"

Tras Sur'tian looked up, his eyebrows knotting quizzically. He hurried toward her, leaving the horses to the wizard's care. Gel and Kimon were also approaching. Before they were within earshot, the Korkyran touched her knee and inquired, “Some problem has arisen?"

She gave no answer but glared at him. After a moment, he just shrugged, used to her moods. Onokratos, leading their mounts, looked about to say something, but a wink and a headshake from Tras warned him to silence. Kimon and Gel climbed into their saddles while the older men quickly harnessed the palfreys.

By mid-afternoon they were through the forest and out of the hill country. A rich green carpet of land stretched before them. The wild grass was not too high to impede the wagon, and they made steady progress. By nightfall they were quite weary, except for the demon, who seemed immune to fatigue.

Trees were scarce; there was lime to use for firewood. Instead, they gathered bunches of the dry, wheatlike stalks that grew among the other grasses and burned that. When the little bit of cooking was done, Frost extinguished the flames entirely with water from the regular skins.

Onokratos complained.

“Ever see a grass fire?” she asked him. “We could die in our sleep if the merest coal remained for the wind to fan."

But as she unrolled her blankets she began to wish for a fire. Korkyran nights were naturally cool, and a slowly rising breeze that rippled the ocean of grass promised to lend a sharp bite to the air before morning. She stretched on her back, cast her cloak over her legs and lower torso.

The stars gleamed above like slivers of ice. Far to the north she spotted the familiar serpent constellation with shining Thubanur in the center of its body. The heavens revolved slowly around that bright star.

For a time, then, she was homesick. Thubanur reminded her of mariners who navigated by its light, and they reminded her of the sea and her home high on the cliffs above the raging Calendi.

Suddenly, she sat upright. She was remembering home, and for the first time in years, the memories were good. She lay back down. Were the nightmares behind her forever?

After a while, the increasing chill convinced her to seek out Kimon. She dragged her bedroll closer to his. He was already fast asleep but stirred and threw an embracing arm across her middle, effectively pinning her. She sighed and snuggled up to his warmth.

The last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her was a falling star trailing scintillant emerald sparks as it cleaved the darkness.

 

* * * *

 

She rose with the sun. Kimon had rolled away during the night, and the cold had crept into her bones. She stretched until the stiffness in her muscles eased, then woke the others. Nobody mentioned breakfast: supplies were limited. Gel could conjure food as needed, but that would waste the demon's fading powers, powers that would be needed for the contest at Skull Gate.

The children still slept entranced in the wagon's soft hay bed. They required no food, no water. A strand of hair had strayed over Aki's eyes. Frost brushed it away. On an impulse, she kissed the ball of her thumb and pressed it to the young queen's brow.

The morning passed uneventfully. The sun followed them as it crossed the sky. Conversation flowed more freely than before as they settled into the journey's dull routine. The plain gave way to woodland again. For a while their course paralleled a small river. They took a short rest and watered their horses. Shortly after midday, the woods began to thin, and they discovered a well-cut road.

“The main road, by the look of it,” Tras Sur'tian observed. “Somewhere, we crossed the regional border into Pelentea province."

“Then we've made good time.” Onokratos took advantage of the moment and reached for a waterskin. Frost watched him drink, suddenly aware of the uncomfortable weight of the two special skins she bore. The straps had chafed flesh beneath her tunic. She considered placing them in the wagon but feared someone might drink from them when she was not looking or that they might be confused with the other skins. She unslung them and rubbed her muscles and the tender places. Then, making a decision, she gave the skins to Tras Sur'tian, who tied them to the pommel of his saddle.

“We'll make even better time on a decent road,” Frost commented. They started off again.

Kimon began a song, his voice soaring on the quiet air. Surprisingly, Tras Sur'tian joined him on the chorus. It was a frivolous tune, as bawdy as ever she'd heard. More than once a particular lyric caused Onokratos to raise an eyebrow. Only Gel rode in silence, and his gaze raked the horizons.

Frost dropped back to ride beside him. “You have a hungry look, demon,” she said quietly.

With dreamlike slowness his attention turned to her; his eyes locked with hers. Again, she felt that weird, disconcerting flush, and wondered why. “I am hungry,” he admitted, “to make this world and everything in it mine.” The demon blinked; she'd never seen him do that before. “My pact with Onokratos binds me to him until the Kalynda-child is free from the spider god's grasp. Then shall I fly, no longer slave to hell or Onokratos, finally to exercise my will upon earth.” His huge, taloned hands curled into fists. An angry gleam flickered in his dark pupils, then died. “No, I shall not fly. My power is fading. Soon, all my magic will be gone. What shall it matter then if I am free?"

“Once, I was a witch,” she reminded him, “and I lost my powers. There's life beyond that if you've courage to look. Your life is a bright diamond; every time you turn, a new facet shines—"

A scornful laugh swallowed her next words. “Little fool! So puny and insignificant! Would thee measure us by the same rule? Thee are human. Lose thy witchcraft and only a small part of thee is gone. But I am a creature of magic! If I lose my power, I lose my heart. What shall become of me then?” He barked another laugh, darkly rich with evil. “Human emotion! Hear me shout and rail? See how contact with humans has corrupted me? Emotion! What would thee call this one?"

“Bitterness,” she provided; then, meeting his gaze with a certain smug pleasure, she added, “And fear."

“I could have ruled this miserable world,” he muttered under his breath.

She shrugged. “All dreams are small ones in the end,” she said, and set Ashur to a gallop until she caught up to Kimon at the fore of their party. His mood was much more agreeable. “Sing me a song, sir,” she requested.

He smiled. “I've a song for you indeed, composed of snippets I've heard in taverns and camps, some tidbits Tras Sur'tian let slip, and my own imagination."

“Will you sing it, or just explain it?” she gibed.

He sang.

 

"From a land where the trees grow tall as they please
 

And a diamond dew covers the earth;
 

Where the night wind sings to magical things
 

That laugh with fantastical mirth
 

 

Came a child with a sword all incarnadined, red
 

With blood of her family,
 

And she rides from the dreams that torment her sleep