Sword Mountain (3 page)

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An ember that survives the rain burns to start another flame.

—
FROM THE
B
OOK OF
H
ERESY

K
awaka tore open his emperor's last letter.

The war had been lost and Emperor Maldeor had been slain. Even the fire ants were attacking Kawaka as he lay on the battlefield. The archaeopteryx yearned for a message that would catapult him out of defeat and resurrect his empire.

Cryptic letters swirled on the parchment. Kawaka rubbed his eyes—no, there were only patterns of fire ants. He flicked the insects left and right, trying to see what they had obscured.

In the moonlight, the page shone blank.

Could that be Emperor Maldeor's entire legacy? He rattled the envelope again. Out fell another piece of paper, folded into a minuscule square. He held his breath as he smoothed the creases away. This time, he found directions to a cave.

The archaeopteryx's relief was cut off by the pain of an ant bite. “You think you have won?” he said to the ants as he tracked down the anthill. The thought of the eagles who'd led the opposing army made him demolish the mound with a kick.

Kawaka stuffed the blank page into a pocket and picked up the directions. For the next few hours he crossed a strait of the Kaurian Sea and continued inland. By dawn, he arrived before a cave.

Inside, he saw a book, a torch, and a glass vial on a stone pedestal against the back wall. He lit the torch and picked up the book. Three gold-inked words glinted at him from the leather cover:
Book of Heresy.
On the first page was a picture of the flag of the archaeopteryx empire billowing in the wind: khaki, saw edged, with an archaeopteryx's upheld wing emblazoned in the center. Below the illustration ran a bold script: “Archaeopteryxes are invincible—the empire forever lives on!”

The sight choked Kawaka with emotion. “Forever!” he cried. He clasped the book of his emperor, awed, for it contained wisdom gleaned from crushing a thousand enemies, fighting a thousand battles, and ruling the largest empire on the face of the world. Kawaka tucked the book carefully inside his uniform.

There was, however, still one item left. Kawaka grabbed the glass vial of liquid, opened it, and sniffed. Awful. His cry of disgust turned into a scream when a spilled drop splashed onto his foot. It was as if he had released invisible fire ants on himself. Kawaka yanked the blank sheet from his pocket and wiped frantically. He was about to crumple it up when he saw that where the liquid had touched the paper, words appeared.

Kawaka poured the rest of the liquid over it; soon a whole message rippled into view. “Not all is lost. Eradicate the golden eagles, and take their Sword Mountain to be our new capital. A map, weapons, and funds for this task are beneath the pedestal.”

He heaved aside a panel of loose rock that hid a small passageway. Gold coins lined the floor; cutlasses hung from the walls. Kawaka armed himself and crammed the pockets of his uniform with gold.

Then Kawaka snatched the map.
Mere anthills
, he thought as he glanced at the map's mountains. He bit a talon till it bled, and with blood drew a scarlet circle around the tallest summit on the mountain range. “My Sword Mountain,” he whispered.

 

The first taste of flight brings a sky of exhilaration or an abyss of terror.

—
FROM THE
O
LD
S
CRIPTURE