Trials (30 page)

And as if Asti had truly been able to sense that something even worse was on its way, several huge blocks from the floor exploded violently and launched themselves toward the sky. Below them, flames of extreme violence and power were propelled outwards to the sun as if they were alive and possessed irrepressible fury. Aliana looked at the intense, wild fire and was petrified with fear. Other explosions took place along the platform, with broken granite blocks blasting towards the sky and hellish flames bursting from the abyss.

“It’s not only a crater!” cried Kendas. He was staring at the chasm which had opened scarcely three feet away from them, revealing a sea of magma at full boil. The explosions of lava were growing in frequency.

“We’re right on top of an erupting volcano!”

Aliana commended herself to Helaun, the founding mother of her Order, and closed her eyes.

Lasgol climbed onto the prow of the small boat which was making its lively way across the lake, borne by the single sail on its short mast. Morksen sat at the stern, guiding the fishing-boat over the endless surface of water. The veteran Forest Ranger was trying to catch up with the war barge which was fleeing before them. His face was grim and cynical.

“To hell with it! Water and more water! There’s nothing but water in every direction!” Morksen barked in disgust. “I don’t like this one little bit. It worries me very much when I can’t feel the earth beneath my feet. Water is for fish to swim in, not for men to sail across. Anyone who spends his days at sea must be half-witted. Only a fool would sail on this lake in a floating nutshell like this.” He spat overboard.

Lasgol smiled to himself at the one-eyed man’s unease.

“Is it them?” asked Morksen.

Lasgol put his hand over his eyes to try and make out whether the Assassin was indeed on that boat, but the distance was too great to let him be sure.

“Can’t the great Tracker, with his unequaled Gift, use one of his extraordinary skills and enlighten this poor mortal?” said Morksen with exaggerated scorn, winking his good eye.

Lasgol made a fist. He felt the urge to punch him, but discarded the idea.

“I’ll try,” he said dryly, without even looking at Morksen.

He concentrated, searching inside him for the small pool of accumulated energy in his chest, and activated his far seeing skill. A green flash enveloped him. With his skill activated, he was able to reach out with his sight as far as the fugitive vessel.

“I can make out… four people in the boat…”

“Four? How can there be four people on that barge?” said Morksen, very surprised and visibly upset. He spat on the floor of the boat.

“I see two men and two women. One of the men is certainly the Assassin.”

“Yes! At last we have him within our reach! It’s the first time in weeks of chasing after him that we’ve seen his face. Who else is with him?” There was a dangerous excitement in Morksen’s good eye.

“The other man is wearing a robe… he looks like a priest, and judging by the star with thirty points I see on his chest, he must belong to the Temple of Light. If I’m not mistaken, he’s a Rogdonian priest.”

“And what the hell is the Assassin doing with a priest? I don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense. This smells worse than a skunk in heat. And the two women? What can you say about them?”

“I see Iruki, the Masig girl the Assassin’s been looking for all this time. He’s found her at last. He’s made good his promise and come back to her.”

“You say it as if you were glad, young master… I don’t suppose that’s really the case, is it?” Morksen said in a threatening tone. “Do I have to remind you of our mission?”

“You don’t need to remind me of anything, Ranger. I know my mission and my duty perfectly well, and I’ll carry out both of them.”

“I hope so. Remember that good old Morksen is here to make sure of it,” He gave a sinister grin and patted his hunting knife.

Lasgol looked at him with cold defiance. He would not let this rat intimidate him.

“So it was for a woman, a mere woman, a despicable savage Masig, that we’ve had to chase him through all the steppes and half the Thousand Lakes?”

Lasgol nodded.

“A very special woman…”

“Very special indeed, the bitch…” Morksen spat again. “It wasn’t logical that this scum would go first to the steppes and then the lakes. He’s dragged us all over the place for weeks, swallowing dust and grass, against the clock! Bastard! I can’t believe it!”

“He went to the steppes because he thought he would find her there with her tribe, the Blue Clouds. But she wasn’t with her people, she’d left. That’s why he went to the Thousand Lakes, following her trail, the tracks of the war party she went with. When we arrived in Blue Clouds territory on the Assassin’s trail, I noticed that he’d only been there for a short while, one night and no more. Then he’d left at dawn following the tracks of about twenty riders.”

“How did you know she was among the riders?”

“I didn’t, but he did.”

“Ha! Very smart, chief. Well played!”

Lasgol shrugged.

“And who’s the other woman?” asked Morksen, stretching his neck. “Can you identify her?”

Lasgol focused his attention on the fleeing barge.

“I don’t know who she might be. I’d never seen her before. She’s also wearing a very distinctive robe with an enormous eye embroidered on her chest. She must belong to some order or cult I don’t know about. I couldn’t tell you which.”

“Strange group, very strange… I was expecting to meet soldiers, mercenaries or bandits. But this is truly weird. Although, on the other hand, one priest and two women shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. Rather the opposite. We might even have fun with them,” said Morksen with an evil smile.

“I doubt it,” Lasgol warned him. “The Masig has the heart of a lion. She’ll work miracles to stop us catching the Assassin.”

“Ah, love… pretty, isn’t it? Unfortunately I can’t say I’ve tasted it myself, but it’s known to cloud the reason of the most intelligent and experienced of men. It’s much safer to visit brothels and places of doubtful reputation to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with experienced professionals in the art of love, a lot less confusing and burdensome in my opinion. But we must take advantage of the opportunity the Masig is giving us. I’ll get rid of her first and take care of the risk that way, then we’ll see how her afflicted lover reacts.”

“Definitely not, Morksen! The Masig must not be hurt under any circumstances, and that’s a direct order. Don’t touch her! I’ll cut your rotten heart out if you do!”

Morksen looked at Lasgol, mouth agape.

“Is that clear?”

“And may I know the reason? No? I feared as much… well I’ll see what I can do… As you know perfectly well, this type of confrontation tends to be unpredictable and anything might happen…”

“The Masig must go unscathed and the Assassin must go back alive,” said Lasgol. He looked sternly at the treacherous Ranger. “If anything else happens, I swear I’ll kill you with my own hands,” he added, his voice cold as ice.

“Well, well, well… I see our young Ranger has a temper after all. Don’t let your blood get hot and go to your head, laddie. You don’t want this old rascal as your enemy…”

Lasgol remained unmoved by the implicit threat.

“I’m warning you, don’t try my patience, Morksen.”

Morksen grinned evilly.

“Ha! I see I’ll make a man of you after all.”

“That’s enough! Now shut up and take the rudder. They mustn’t get away.”

Without waiting for a reply, Lasgol secured the sail. The breeze on the lake was strong, and the lively fishing-boat skimmed across the blue surface.

“Don’t you worry, young master. We’ll soon catch them with this little fishing-boat I got for us. Their boat is a lot heavier and slower than ours.”

At that moment, as if they had been overheard talking, a large white sail was hoisted on the war-barge.

“You were saying?”

Morksen furrowed his brow, looking more than ever like a bulldog.

“We’ll catch them. We’re lighter and faster, it’s just a matter of time.”

“Maybe, but there are four of them and I’m afraid they’ll be rowing as hard as they can…”

“Row! Row for your lives!” Yakumo implored his three companions on the war-barge. He had just hoisted the ship’s sail. He fastened it well, making sure it would hold, then resumed his position beside Iruki to continue rowing.

They all rowed as one to the rhythm set by Yakumo.

They rowed and rowed and rowed… aware of the danger. But the tiny spot chasing them on that blue horizon kept getting bigger and bigger.

“They’re getting closer…” said Iruki nervously. “Why is Lasgol hunting you again? I don’t understand it. Why doesn’t he let us live in peace? What evil spirit of the steppes have we wronged to deserve this endless, vengeful pursuit?”

Yakumo looked at her while he pulled on the oar. His eyes showed a silent tenderness.

“They’ve been after me for more than two months. I don’t know the reason, but I guess it has to do with the fact that my escape was successful. There was treason among Norghanians, foul play. That’s how I managed to escape, otherwise in all likelihood I would’ve perished. There are two of them after me, Lasgol and another Tracker. I was forced to hide in Rogdonian lands until the wounds my torturers had inflicted on me healed sufficiently. My body was severely punished, they maimed my legs and back. Luckily the damage wasn’t permanent. I managed to recover to some extent and kept them busy moving in circles, gaining time until my injuries were healed enough and I could come for you at last.”

Iruki smiled as she heaved on the oar.

“When I reached your tribe you weren’t there. Hidden in the shadows of the night, I deceived the watch, looking for you. But I didn’t find you. I found out about the terrible illness, and for a moment I thought the worst had happened. But thanks to my Gift I could identify your scent, along with that of twenty other warriors, and I knew you’d left with them. I followed the trail straight away to the Thousand Lakes.”

“I still can’t believe you got there in time to stop my execution.”

“The benign spirits of the steppes must have helped me,” said Yakumo with a wide smile.

Lindaro stretched his neck to look at the vessel behind them.

“It’s smaller and lighter than ours,” said the man of faith. “If the wind doesn’t change, I fear they’ll catch up with us.”

Sonea stood up. Her gaze was thoughtful.

“Even though there are four of us and only two of them, as Yakumo says, the weight of this bigger boat is slowing us down. The wind is coming from the southeast, and they’ll catch up eventually,” concluded the librarian.

“We won’t make it easy for them. Row, row with all your might,” said Iruki.

But the young Masig was fully aware that instead of gaining distance, they were losing it. Besides, even though as far as his body was concerned Yakumo was a force of nature, and Iruki herself would fight to the last breath, she doubted that their new traveling companions would last much longer. They were not warriors, nor did it seem they were used to living it rough. Instead they looked rather feeble… She was ashamed of this thought at once, but that was the reality, a priest and a librarian rowing for their lives… no, things did not look good for them at all. Luckily Yakumo rowed with the strength of a giant and she knew that her lover could go on rowing for hours. Even so, doubt and the fear of being caught, cramped her stomach like bitter acid.

The wind began to blow more strongly, filling the sail and giving impetus to the pursuing boat. This did not look good for them. A moment later, to the surprise of the four fugitives, the wind rose to blow with the force of a hundred white horses at full gallop.

“The wind’s getting stronger! This is bad for us!” said Sonea above the whistling breath of the gods.

“Look at the lake surface. It’s getting rougher, making waves,” said Lindaro, uneasily.

Iruki stretched her neck to take a look at the boat behind. Being lighter, it rode the waves and was gaining on them fast. She could make it out more clearly. She did not know Lasgol’s reach with his longbow, especially if he used his Gift, but she feared they would soon be within shooting range. It made her uneasy, and she found it hard to swallow.

Yakumo could read her fear.

“I won’t let them separate us again,” he whispered in her ear.

That was what Iruki most feared, that he would risk his life once again. In that moment of anguish for the safety of her loved one, a sudden blue flash issued forth from the Ilenian medallion at her neck. It was so intense that Iruki lost her balance, surprised, and almost fell backwards.

Yakumo reacted at once and held her, helping her sit down again.

The medallion gave off a new, more powerful blue flash. They all stared at it, enthralled by its beauty. Suddenly the winds gathered strength, and the sky above the lake began to darken.

“A storm!” cried Sonea. She pointed at the sky, which was rapidly growing darker swallowing the sun, the clouds and the blue canvas itself.

“It’s the medallion that’s brought it on!” said Lindaro, shouting over the roaring wind. “There’s powerful magic in that object.” There was surprise and worry on his face.

The water was turning rougher, and by now the wind had reached hurricane-force. The sky had vanished above their heads, and in its place there was a darkness so deep that even the gods themselves must have left their abode. A great bolt of lightning flashed down from the dark to touch the wild waves. An instant later there came a loud blast of thunder which made Sonea and Lindaro crouch in fear like children.

“It’s a pretty nasty storm, so hold on to your benches!” said Yakumo. He was taking in the sail as fast as he could, to save the boat’s mast.

Lindaro looked out at the lake. They seemed to be on the high seas, in the midst of one of the worst storms an experienced sailor could ever dream of. The man of faith began to pray to the Light, his soul fearful of what was brewing out there.