Speed was not their friend on the trek up the dusty route; Kenosera limped but refused aid, and she worried that the nastiness harmed him more than he admitted. If she had to, she would leave them in the middle of the road and give them the shard for protection while she searched for help.
Flying above the treetops and bursting into light would be a beacon for both friend and foe, and hopefully rescuers could reach them before the enemy. She sighed to herself. How many other terrible ideas could she come up with before she landed on one that might work?
Movement in the shadows; she whirled as rufang jumped from beneath the leaves and landed behind them, rearing up and clawing at them with their front paws while pointing spears, the symbols painted on their lower torsos gleaming with the deep, poisonous green. Their hair and tails were braided and bound, some messy, some in neat plaits. Leather with bark attached protected their arms and legs, and wide, rougher strips wrapped around their chests and barrel.
Had they expected them? They dressed for a fight.
More ran down the road, several with bows, but they remained strapped to their back rather than pulled. Vantra locked arms with Kenosera and Yut-ta, her mind whirling. What should she do? Make her outer shields blaze to life and hope that kept the forest dwellers at bay? What if they attacked and broke through? Could she produce enough layers to keep them safe? If they escaped, they could not stay in the middle of the road, but chancing the forest seemed more dangerous, even with Navosh’s blessing.
The rustling of hollow wooden cylinders striking each other quieted the enemy, and they parted. A yondaii, with as many tattoos as Zepirz, strode through them, head held high. His black beak peeked through stark red and white paint, and streaks of red circled his eyes, ran down his chest, ringed his four legs, and coated his paws. He wore a headdress of woven reeds that tied beneath his chin and slanted backwards, the chimes swinging from the top. He had a cloth sash of red and a panel of white falling from it to his knees, beads decorating the fringed ends.
He pointed his gnarled staff at them and shook the wooden leaves dangling from red-stained leather strips; more chimes, their ringing beautiful and unsettling at the same time. He swept it uphill, and the rufang behind them poked the shield.
Sun flared from the touch, and they stepped back. The leader, unphased, thrust the staff at them and again swept it uphill.
He wanted them to follow him.
“Do we have a choice?” Kenosera asked. Yut-ta shrugged, and Vantra shook her head.
“No,” she whispered, the shame of failure creeping through her essence. There were too many, and she did not think she could harm them dire enough to escape. And where would they go? Flee downhill, an obvious choice, and the remaining enemy would follow.
She moved to unhook their elbows, but both slapped their hands over her lower arm and kept her in place. If it made them feel safe, so be it. More spears poked at the shield, and she cast her companions a quick, not-comforting smile before they followed the rufang. She added layer after layer beneath the outer protection, feeling the drain on resources as the bad magic drank it. Dread crept through her chest; if what awaited them was as terrible as she suspected, how was she going to keep her shields up under the strain?
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Kenosera whispered. The leader turned and shook his staff at them before continuing. The nomad glared and Yut-ta fluttered his wings, but both remained silent.
The route expanded, torches veering off into fields that held numerous lean-tos made from long reeds. Low fires blazed in front of them, and warriors lounged around them, caring for their weapons, talking, playing flutes, and throwing pebbles onto a circular board. So many; they never could have snuck past them. What were they doing there? Preparing for an invasion? Was that the reason for the flood, to distract Greenglimmer while the fake Strans gathered followers to march through the forest?
She had not thought a fighting force so large would be at the citadel. She expected corrupted roots, another vine creature, maybe a handful of Wiiv who followed Zepirz, but there were so many—and hundreds of torches and fires. If the symbols painted on the beings protected them from corrupted foliage, they did not trust them enough to do without blazing light. Did that reflect their lack of faith in Kjiven’s strength?
“There are more than Wiiv here,” Yut-ta whispered. “I see Imtri, Iyat, Sandbe, even a few evaki villagers. Mostly Wiiv and Iyat, though.”
What unified them were the symbols, however much they distrusted their effectiveness. Vantra did not see one without them.
Guards patrolled the road, casting them curious looks but not stopping to gawk or ask about them after the leader glared them back to their duty. A few led over-laden, pig-like animals with striped fur, long snouts and four toes towards the top of the hill; the herders moved over and watched them pass, silent, distrustful.
Yut-ta tugged her arm and pointed; above them soared two spintops, ruffling tree leaves as they passed. Her heart sank; was Zepirz with them? She did not look forward to another meeting with him.
A wooden gate the height of a two story building marked the end of the road. Several archers lined the top walkway and a spiked wooden portcullis hung below them. Trunks winnowed to a point leaned downhill, held in place by a wooden lattice. Torches sat in every space possible, the glare giving it a Light-infused look.
Who did they expect would attack?
The leader thumped his staff on the ground, puffs of dust rising from the strike. Green bled into view beneath the portcullis, then faded, and he continued on. Vantra had not noticed the barrier, just like the one across the road. Did the fields have a similar shield, protecting them from the consuming magic?
Beyond was a humongous area of dirt and torches; no trees, no grass, no buildings, no beings. At the far end were at least twenty spintops, with beings milling around the two that just landed. Death was on Kjiven’s mind, but she could not fathom why he chose to use Talin technology to fuel his want when his followers were so distrustful of it. There were plenty of native Evenacht machines that could cause mass harm; the Finder teaching volumes described them in detail.
Perhaps ghost machines to kill ghosts?
The leader headed for three stone buildings that contained so many differently sized stones, the builders must have confiscated them from other ruined Kjivendei structures. They had slanted, thatched roofs and open doorways covered by ragged red and white cloth. Four guards stood on each side of the opening, holding spears and looking bored. They did not perk up when the leader whisked between them and into the interior, just dully noted his arrival and returned to staring blankly into the night.
Vantra refused to drop the shields, so she and the other two entered single file, the edges scraping the stone and sending wisps of smoke curling away from them; she did not want the enemy to think it would be simple to break her protections, especially since she fought to keep them up. She needed the appearance of invulnerability, even if it were untrue.
More guards stood inside, with a space between them and cells delineated by arm-thick wooden poles. Confined within them were other beings, some with the symbols, some not, some rufang, some evaki. They had an air about them of power and age, despite the world-weary sadness that filled most faces.
The leader swished his staff in front of him, and green again swirled and dissipated, proving a shield blocked escape. He whisked down the aisle and pointed at the last cell on the left; they filed in, Vantra becoming more and more uneasy. Should they be so accommodating? Of course, if they fought back and lost, her companions might die.
After the wooden door clicked into place, the leader tapped his staff against the latch; vines appeared and wove through it, creating a lock. He whisked to the entrance, waited for the guards to usher out, then waved his staff, reinitiating the shield. She concentrated, but lost the sense of it after the color leaked away.
The weight of the magic depressing her defense faded and disappeared. Vantra frowned; why get rid of a useful magic against prisoners?
“It’s no use.” She looked across the way at a rufang who leaned against the back wall, a light wrap of blue cloth covering his shoulders. He studied them with bloodshot eyes, his beak open to keep from irritating the cracked lower half. “You need the special touch of Strans to sense and take them down.”
“That’s what the painted symbols are for?” Yut-ta asked.
“No.” An evaki who sat with him slapped her upper arm, bringing attention to a tattoo of a circle with beams emitting from it. At a casual glance, Vantra did not think she would have noticed it, as the color was nearly the same as her pale gold skin. “These have no effect, though the Wiiv say they protect and aid in worship. I think they use them against us erede for saying no.”
“Saying no?” Kenosera asked softly, dropping Vantra’s arm. Yut-ta did the same, and she stepped closer to the bars to hear better.
“No to death,” the rufang said, wearily waving his hand. “No to razing the fields of the outsiders and the out-dwellers. No to sending water to wash away those who did not accept the yondaii as Strans’ tongue.”
“Sending water already happened,” Yut-ta said with a snarl. Those within the cells focused on him, while a guard at the door snapped something Vantra did not understand. “They blew a Deccavent dam and flooded everything downstream.”
Gasps and cries of pain accompanied the denials and utter disbelief. Sobbing came from another cell, and she assumed the being hailed from a village in the flood’s way. Did Kjiven expect allies not to care, if he harmed their people along with his targets? Of course, one did not lock away an ally, either, so perhaps he saw it as a punishment for those who did not obey.
And since they did not know of the flood, the Wiiv must have imprisoned them before it happened.
“The Wiiv promised to do so,” the evaki said, running her finger over the multiple rings lining her long nose. “They spoke of retribution. I said too many years have passed, and would not make a difference. They say the Bendebares are corrupted, that ghosts destroyed their sacred land, and demanded my aid. I still said no, so here I am.”
“We heard that Imtri yim were disappearing,” Vantra said. The guard at the door shook his spear, but they ignored him.
“Some of us are yim,” the evaki said, dropping her wide gold eyes as she smoothed her fine linen skirt across her knees. Intricate square designs decorated the fabric, the lines so precise that it would take a dedicated villager many days to stain. “Some are shaman from other dwellers, some are village leaders. We all said no.”
“Some of us will rain down upon the Wiiv what they gave us,” a growly voice said. The pale grey rufang, with swollen face and lacerated arms, had the heat of vengeance in her green-eyed gaze. “I will shove my fist down Esentiz’s throat and pull his stomach through his beak.”
Esentiz? Before Vantra could ask, the guard barked something and the growly woman jerked her beak at him. “Rak geet, madi.”
He clenched the spear hard enough, Vantra thought it might snap.
“Eno,” the first rufang sighed, readjusting his wrap. “Taunting will not help. He will strike you harder the next time.”
“He hurt you while you are captive?” Yut-ta asked, eyes narrowed.
“He swaggered to me and used his dagger while his viksha held me. He fears what I will do in return.”
The guard smacked the ground with the butt of his spear, and the green flickered and disappeared. Eno shoved her beak through the bars, clacking loud in challenge.
Now was the time to escape, while the shield remained down! Vantra just had to figure out how to take advantage.
