Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel (10 page)

Leitos was halfway to Ba’Sel, when a shout from the forest drew him up short. Ulmek and the others, waist deep in the cove’s gentle surf, with Ke’uld floating between them, paused as well.

For a long moment, nothing moved. Then a Brother burst out of the forest, and behind him came a dozen men, tall and slender, with the most striking features Leitos had ever seen. Despite their peaceful expressions, he instinctively gripped his sword hilt.

The newcomers paused, observing all, then found Ulmek and the others standing in the surf.

“Bring your companion to us,” the tallest of the newcomers called.

The rest of the Brothers standing watch erupted from the forest. Swords bared, they crept close, apprehension alive on every face.

The strangers showed no indication of fear. That, more than all else, bothered Leitos. They reacted as if the armed men closing in on them were no more threatening than gnats.

“Bring your man to us,” the apparent leader said again, “and we will restore his life.”

Chapter 12

Hours seemed to pass before anyone moved. Then, all at once, Ulmek and the others returned to shore, bearing Ke’uld. Ba’Sel walked slowly toward the strangers, while the Brothers around the newcomers formed into a tight circle.

Leitos studied the strangers. The men were tall—the tallest standing head and shoulders above Ba’Sel. Besides delicate golden torques worn at their throats and matching armbands, they wore soft boots of pale leather, and unadorned ankle-length kilts white linen. Their arms and legs were extremely long, almost freakishly so, giving them a spindly appearance. Taken as a whole, he decided they could not be Yatoans—not if Zera had been of that people.

The closer Leitos came, the more he found to trouble him. Their skin had a faint golden cast, and without wrinkle or blemish. To the last, their narrow heads were shaved smooth. Those not keenly focused on the Brothers bringing Ke’uld ashore, gazed about with slitted eyes that tilted up at the edges, and were colored the hue and sheen of polished bronze.
They are not men. Cannot be.
And if not men, they must be—

“Alon’mahk’lar!” Leitos cried, drawing his sword. The word ripped from his throat at the same instant someone else shouted, “Changelings!”

In moments Halan, Ke’uld, and the Kelrens were the only ones not standing around the strangers. For all the swords and hard expressions, the golden folk seemed dismissive.

“I am Adu’lin-kalat a’Kuadaye,” the leader said placidly, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of disdain. His smirking lips mirrored that tone. “You may call me Adu’lin.”

“You have a strange look,” Sumahn said tactlessly. “Are you human?”

“We are as human as you.” Adu’lin seemed untroubled by the question. “We are known as Fauthians, an ancient and reclusive race dedicated to absolute peace and harmony. We mean you no harm. Be warned, however, there are those who creep over these islands who would seek to destroy you, as surely as they seek to destroy us. It is good that we found you, before they attacked your party.”

“You speak of the Yatoans,” Ba’Sel said, seemingly entranced.

Adu’lin’s amber gaze became speculative. “Since our arrival to these shores in the early years after Upheaval cast us adrift from our homelands, the Yatoans have sought to eliminate us. They are all of them barbaric, and bent only on destruction. We pray daily for them to embrace tranquility, but so far we have done so in vain.” As he spoke, his eyes roved over the men around him, then the bound Kelrens. As his scrutiny passed over Leitos and Adham, Leitos thought he saw more than passing interest.

“What do you want?” Ulmek demanded.

“Only to help,” Adu’lin said. “As soon as we learned strangers had run aground, we set out from our city. Although we are not sea folk, we have among us those who can repair your ships. In the meantime, we invite you to join us at Armala, our home. You will be safe there.”

“You claimed you could restore Ke’uld,” Ba’Sel said, stepping past Ulmek’s raised sword. “Unless you can cure death, there is nothing you can do.” Despite his words, he sounded hopeful.

“Often, the injured are not as near to death as they think,” Adu’lin said.

“This is foolish,” Ulmek snapped. “We cannot blindly trust them.”

“Be still,” Ba’Sel said.

Adu’lin smiled faintly. “Let us help. Afterward, I will answer whatever questions you have.” This time when his eyes flickered over Leitos and Adham, Leitos was sure he saw more than idle curiosity.

“You must hurry,” Ba’Sel said, striding toward Ke’uld.

When Adu’lin did not follow, Ba’Sel spun to find Ulmek and the others had not budged. “Lower your swords!” he ordered. The Brothers did so, but hesitantly.

“Very good,” Adu’lin said after the last sword whispered back into its scabbard. He motioned for his fellows to join him. The Brothers parted ranks, but hovered on either side of the Fauthians, hands never releasing their hilts.

Adu’lin’s group gathered around Ke’uld. Despite his worsening state, he began thrashing, eyes swelling with panic. “Demon-born! Flee, my brothers, flee!”

Adham leaned toward Leitos, and said, “Wait, but be ready.”

Adu’lin knelt over Ke’uld’s wounded leg, reached out with a long-fingered hand. At his gentle touch, Ke’uld suddenly went still, his expression softening. After drawing back the bandage, the Fauthian’s blade-thin nose wrinkled.

“He is, perhaps, closer to death than even I believed. Pray with me,” he said to his fellows.

Forming two ranks, the Fauthians pressed closer, blocking sight of the wounded man and their leader. For a time, nothing seemed to happen, then Leitos heard a low chanting. Unfamiliar words washed over him, filling him with palpable pressure, as if the air itself had grown dense. Startled gasps from the Brothers told him he was not alone in what he sensed.

The chanting went on and on, and a serene drowsiness fell over Leitos. He resisted at first, but in due course the chanting put him at ease, and he sat down. It felt good to relax, and he could not come up with a reasonable explanation why he should avoid resting. Not long after, he fought to keep his eyelids from drifting shut. The warmth of the morning, the sound of the sea mingling with the chanting, all worked together to release the burdens of his heart. He began nodding, eyes closing…….

When he opened them, he looked at the beach from an odd angle. It took a moment to understand that he had stretched out in the warm sand. He could not quite recall what had happened. There had been a shipwreck, talk of turning against Ba’Sel, and people … strange, golden-skinned folk—

Leitos pushed himself up and clutched for the hilt of his sword, sure it had been taken. He found it at his hip, where it should be. The gold folk—
Fauthians
, he remembered, as things became clearer—huddled a little way down the beach. Halan and Ba’Sel, both with looks of wonder on their faces, sat before Ke’uld, who spoke quietly but with excited gestures. Ke’uld looked as if he had never been sick a day in his life, let alone near death. Ulmek and most of the others were keeping an eye on the Kelren prisoners and the Fauthians.

The light had changed, and Leitos judged that it was past midday.

“Was your rest as good as mine?” Adham asked calmly, his eyes on the Adu’lin.

Leitos brushed sand off his cheek. “I’m not sure I’ve ever slept better,” he admitted. “What happened?”

“Those Fauthians are as good as their word. They healed Ke’uld—so well that he was dancing about earlier, just to prove he could.”

Leitos glanced over the various groups again. “Why is everyone divided?”

“I gather that Ulmek is unwilling to accept any gifts from these snaky folk, while Ba’Sel is eager to do just that. The sea-wolves, well, they do not have much choice where they sit.”

“Do you trust these Fauthians?”

“No,” Adham said without hesitation. “Something is wrong here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way they healed Ke’uld, for one. Not with poultices and splints, but with words, a song. My father spoke rarely of the powers that escaped the Well of Creation, and my mother mentioned them even less, but most of what I remember is their fear of the Powers of Creation, those used by the Three in the making of this world. In the hands of men, they feared only evil could come of such power, for it was never meant for mortal hands.”

Leitos’s eyebrows shot up. “You think these Fauthians used these Powers of Creation?”

“With words alone,” Adham said, “they healed a deadly wound, and brought a man back from the brink of death.” He paused long enough to lock eyes with his son. “In your heart, do you really believe they used only words?”

“I do not understand,” Leitos said.

Adham leaned back on an elbow, twisting a little so no one could see his face. “The Fauthians began chanting,” he said in a low voice, “and straight away, I felt a terrible exhaustion melt my bones. It was all I could do to plop down on my backside, instead of pitching over and planting my head in the sand. You, me, all of us ended up sprawled on the beach, caught in a delirium, while those Fauthians went about their work. But I ask you, since when can words heal a man, while at the same time make anyone nearby fall into a deathly slumber?”

Leitos shook his head.

“My mother told me a story once, about how Prince Varis took her captive, intending to make her into his pleasure slave. Ellonlef resisted his efforts to drain the life from her flesh, but she was only able do so because Kian had inadvertently passed some of the energies from the Well of Creation into her, when he restored her life after a cave-in.”

“I mean no disrespect,” Leitos said, “but what does one have to do with the other?”

Adham cast a glance over his shoulder, studied the Fauthians a moment, then looked back. In a lower voice than before, he said, “My mother told of a strange weakness coming over her when Varis tried to drain her of her life.”

“Are you saying that what she felt, and what we felt, is the same thing?”

“Exactly the same. As soon as I felt my life draining away, I remembered that story. As we have the blood of Kian and Ellonlef in our veins, I believed I could resist. I tried, my son, but failed. Perhaps I recognized it too late to make a difference, or maybe these Fauthians are stronger than Varis ever was. Either way, I’m sure they have somehow harnessed the Powers of Creation, which were flung far and wide when Prince Varis destroyed the Well of Creation, and freed the Mahk’lar upon all the world.”

“We have to tell Ba’Sel,” Leitos said. Changelings, Alon’mahk’lar, Mahk’lar, a man could fight such creatures, but the Powers of Creation, once wielded by the Three, was too great a force to contend with.

Adham caught his wrist. “Do you think Ba’Sel is the man you should tell?”

Leitos hesitated. Ba’Sel would probably dismiss the warning out of hand, or he would suggest that they show courtesy, and do what they could to avoid provoking the Fauthians. Ulmek, on the other hand, would draw his sword and attack….
Or would he?

“Ba’Sel will not understand,” Leitos said, getting to his feet. “Ulmek will, but he could react in a way that gets us all killed.”

Adham offered a devilish grin. “If we are to die this day, then let us be about it with courageous hearts.”

With a deep sigh, Leitos made his way toward Ulmek. One of the Fauthians glanced his way, but Leitos kept on, moving with no great haste. The Fauthian turned back to his companions.

When Leitos reached Ulmek’s side, the man gave him a searching look. “What troubles you?”

“We are in danger,” Leitos said. “These Fauthians are more than they appear, and I believe they are dangerous.”

“Ba’Sel does not think so,” Ulmek said, his expression sour.

“Ba’Sel is wrong,” Leitos said, then quickly told Ulmek the story his father had just passed on. He finished by advising, “We must get away from these Fauthians.”

Ulmek surprised Leitos by clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We will, little brother. But, as you can see, we have no way to escape. For the time being, we will let them play the generous hosts. Who knows, we might learn something from them that can be used against the Faceless One.”

“What of Ba’Sel?”

Now Ulmek’s face hardened. “He is still our leader. Much as I disagree with him, I trust him with my life.” When he said this, Leitos noticed a flicker of doubt cross his face. It vanished as quickly as seen. “Our task is to stay alive long enough to let him come around.”

“But what if he does not?” Leitos hated asking.

“He will,” Ulmek said with more surety than Leitos felt. He gazed across the beach to the Fauthian leader. “However, should the worst happen, be prepared to fight.”

Before he could say anymore, Adu’lin caught everyone’s attention, and motioned for them to join his group.

“As I warned you before,” the Fauthian leader said, “these are dangerous lands. All the more so after nightfall. That is when the Yatoans are at their worst, raiding at will, slaughtering anyone they find not of their clans. No place is safe—save Armala, our city,” he said, pointing at the mist-shrouded mountain peaks.

“A long journey,” Ulmek said, “when half the day is already gone.”