Storms (Sharani Series Book 2) (37 page)

“Gavin!”

It was Khari’s voice. Gavin turned toward the sound, expecting to see Khari walking toward him. Instead he saw her forcing the white-robed messenger forward at the point of her sword, the man’s face cut and bleeding, several other wounds slowly staining his clothes. Gavin realized he was still holding onto his powers as he raised a hand and noticed the faint dancing sparks bouncing across his fingertips. He dismissed them as the white-clothed Orinai came to stop before him.

The man’s face bore the same chiseled quality as Samsin’s did, but without the extra muscular physique. Despite being held at sword point, the man held his chin up and met Gavin’s gaze without flinching. It probably helped that he was over a foot taller than Gavin, though he didn’t let that intimidate him. Gavin had an arrow sticking out of his back, after all. He thought that certainly leveled their respective internal strength.

“Tell him what you told me,” Khari hissed, prodding him with her sword hard enough to draw blood.

The man didn’t flinch. He remained silent.

“They’ve got Lhaurel,” Khari supplied for him. “They took her with them. That’s why I couldn’t find here before.”

“Took her? Samsin said they wanted to kill her.”

At this, the white-clothed man reacted slightly, a minor shift of his gaze to one side. Gavin watched the man closely, but didn’t get any other reaction.

“We’ve got to go after her,” Khari demanded. “They’ll only be a short distance away. If we can move quickly enough we should be able to get in there and rescue her.”

Gavin winced as fresh pain washed over him. He opened his mouth to protest the ridiculousness of that plan, when the earth rocked beneath his feet and a massive
crack
rent the air. The ground surged and rolled, nearly knocking Gavin from his feet. Khari cried out, though Gavin had gotten turned about by the rocking earth and didn’t see her. The ground surged again, then stilled. Gavin licked his lips, suddenly nervous even though they’d won the battle.

He turned back to Khari. She lay prone on the ground, her own sword through her belly. The white-clothed man was halfway to the Forbiddence wall already, clothing flapping in the wind.

Gavin rushed to her side, dropping his greatsword and gritting his teeth against the terrible pain blossoming in his arm.

“Khari,” Gavin nearly shouted, taking the woman’s hand. It was terribly cold to the touch. “Khari can you hear me?”

Khari’s eyes fluttered open and she looked over at him. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“Cobb! Darryn!” Gavin shouted. He looked up, casting around for anything, anyone that could help. Cobb came running forward, his limp making his gait awkward, but effective. Darryn was only a few steps behind, though he sported a cut on one cheek and his sword dripped crimson. Farah and some of the other aevian riders alighted nearby and Farah, after dismounting, ran toward them.

“Please,” Gavin continued, putting a hand beneath Khari’s head and tilting it upward. “Look at me, Khari. Don’t die on me now, you annoying old lady.”

She groaned at him, though one side of her lip twitched up. Farah skid to a halt near them, hand over her mouth. Cobb frowned somberly and Darryn looked murderous. Gavin looked from one face to the other, then made a decision. The earth trembled slightly under his hand, like the feeling of distant vibrations in water. Khari couldn’t die. Not now. Not when they needed her most.

“Cobb, Darryn—gather everyone. We’re getting out of here. Fetch Samsin and have him show you the way.”

“Maugier and his clan aren’t here yet,” Darryn said.

Gavin looked over his shoulder at the women and children who were hurrying toward them and then back over toward the surviving warriors who had attacked the Bleeders.

“There isn’t time. This place could be obliterated any second now. The threat blocking our way is gone. We go now and save the ones we can.”

Darryn looked like he was about to protest, but Cobb placed a gnarled, wrinkled hand on the younger man’s shoulder and he stilled, nodded, and turned to carry out his orders. Gavin watched him go. He turned to Farah then.

“Can you help me with a stretcher then, Farah?” he asked.

She nodded and then one of her knuckles slipped into her mouth. She frowned and something that looked suspiciously like anger crossed her face. “You know you have an arrow sticking out of your back, right?”

“Yank it out,” Gavin said.

“What?”

“Yank it out,” Gavin repeated.

“Leave it there,” another voice said.

Gavin turned to see another woman approach, scurrying forward. He didn’t recognize her, but Farah made way before her as if she knew her.

“You stay put,” the woman said. “You’re fine. Let me look at Khari first, then I’ll be over to look at you.”

Gavin frowned and opened his mouth to speak.

The earth shook. It rocked. Gavin nearly fell. Farah reached out to steady the woman, but she shrugged her aside, leaning over to Khari. Gavin tried to stumble to his feet, but a massive cracking sound split the air. A wide rent appeared in the sand a dozen feet from them, splitting wide. Sands spilled down into it as half of it rose slightly. Screams of terror and pain filled the air.

“Go!” Gavin shouted, ignoring the pain and trying his best to stay upright. “Get out of here. Up the rocks and out of here.”

Gavin stumbled forward, grabbing Farah and stumbling over to the woman helping Khari. Samsin appeared at Gavin’s side. He bent down and scooped up Khari despite the other woman’s protests.

“Let’s get out of here, slave,” Samsin hissed. “Nikanor is losing by himself. Don’t let him die in vain, idiot.”

Gavin growled. “I’m not leaving until everyone gets out.”

“Gavin, look!” Farah shouted, pointing.

Gavin turned and looked where she was pointing. Scrambling over the boulders, clambering up the side of the broken Forbiddence walls, the Rahuli people were fleeing. Aevian’s flew up through the crack, riders on their backs. Cobb, Evrouin, and the woman Gavin had sent after Maugier lead them. Gavin breathed a sigh of relief, lungs heaving.

“Let’s go.”

“The Sisters are the knife threatening at the neck of the entire nation, and the balm which calms the wound.”

—From
Commentary on the
Schema, Volume I

Gavin stumbled along the path and barely caught himself as his foot found a rock hidden under the light dusting of snow. It was like cold sand, piled in drifts and making walking difficult.

Why had Lhaurel gone with those monsters? They had threatened the destruction of the entire Rahuli people. The armies were gone now, not one of them killed in the fiery eruptions which had struck the instant the Rahuli had gotten clear of the Forbiddence itself. The horror of that moment was something Gavin never wanted to remember.

Gavin’s mind was as numb as the rest of his body, unused to the cold. Samsin, his face a hard mask of stone, strode to one side of him, long legs taking half as many steps as Gavin had to. Who was this creature? He was one of
them
. One of the Orinai. How could he trust him? He’d saved Gavin’s life, but was it all just an elaborate game?

“Gavin.”

He turned at the sound of his name.

Farah ran toward him, a blanket draped over her shoulders, though it was thin and offered little real protection against the cold. Samsin had said the snow was early and was lingering as a result of the weather magic being disrupted by his changing of the winds to send the ash from the volcano’s eruption out to sea and not over them.

“We’ve got to stop,” she said, stopping near him.

The procession of people continued onward. Evrouin glanced over at him, but kept walking, eyes downcast watching his feet. Everyone trudged along the path, carrying what little remained to them on their backs, which were bowed under the weight.

“The wounded?”

Farah nodded. Gavin reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She was freezing—so was he, for that matter—but holding her there, the closeness, rekindled a little warmth within him.

“Samsin,” Gavin called over his shoulder.

The Orinai reacted slowly, but signaled a halt to the line with a lethargic motion and then walked over to where Gavin and Farah stood.

“Yes?” The hollowness in Samsin’s voice matched the sunken expression on his face. The once-fine clothing draped over slumped shoulders. The only thing about the man that shone with any sense of gleam was the war hammer strapped to his back.

“We need to take a break. Should we have them eat again or something to keep warm?”

Samsin blinked a few times and suppressed a shiver. He didn’t have a blanket or other warm clothing on, but he’d said the cold was minimal for him. He was used to it.

“How should I know?” Samsin snapped, a trace of his usual arrogance returning. “Nikanor was the one who cared for these sorts of things. Do what you want. At this pace, we’ll never make it before you all freeze to death.”

“Where are we going?” Farah asked. Her tone was sharp. It was obvious, with everything else going on, that she didn’t like not knowing about the lands through which they were traveling. And she and Samsin never seemed to get along.

Samsin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Farah pulled away from Gavin’s embrace and dropped a hand to the glass dagger at her belt.

Samsin gave her an uncaring look in response to her glare. “This was Nikanor’s idea. I’m only here because I can’t go back. He told me to walk southwest for three days, then turn west above the Straights. That’s all he told me before he sent me away. The fool.”

Gavin scratched at his beard. Why had Nikanor sacrificed himself like that? What was there to gain? Gavin didn’t know, though he was grateful.

“And what will we find there?”

Samsin shrugged again. “At the speed we’re walking, we won’t even get to the Straights for another four or five days. We’ll be dead before then.”

“And the wounded will be dead before then if we go any faster,” Farah snapped.

Gavin stepped up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t helping,” he said. “We don’t have anywhere else to go either way.”

Farah sniffed and pulled away. She turned around without looking at Gavin and strode back the way she’d come, back to Khari’s side, where she’d been since the woman had been wounded.

“That woman has a mean streak in her as wide as the sea,” Samsin grumbled.

“She’s right, you know,” Gavin said, a little more sharply than he intended. “You have no idea where we’re going, we have no food, and the cold is going to start taking its toll on us faster than we could hope. I’m going to send out the aevian patrols to see if they can find this place. If we’re lucky they’ll find it and be able to start transporting the wounded and some others back and forth.”

Samsin shrugged again. Gavin ground his teeth, feeling suddenly frustrated.

“You know what, Samsin?” Gavin snapped. “Our lives are in your hands. The least you could do is show a little emotion and
try
and be helpful.”

“Why should I care? You don’t have any idea what you and your people have forced me to give up.”

“That was your choice.”

Samsin threw up a hand and spun away, storming off toward the head of the line. Gavin ran a hand over his chin. Stubble made a gruff sound as it caught on his skin, though his hands were too cold to feel it.

“Evrouin!” Gavin shouted.

The man detached himself from the group he was with and shuffled through the snow over to him. A few flakes of snow dusted his black hair.

“Why are we stopping again?” Evrouin asked once he was close enough.

“The wounded,” Gavin said, curtly. “I need you to take a cast of aevians and fly until you get to a place called the Straights.” Evrouin looked like he was going to ask a question so Gavin held up a hand to stop him. “Ask Samsin where it’s at. From there, fly due west until you find the place we’re headed for. I have a feeling you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Can I speak now?”

Gavin nodded.

“I thought you said we couldn’t use the aevians in this cold,” Evrouin said. “And I’ve never ridden on an aevian, remember. You Roterralar were rather particular about that.”

Gavin snorted. “Take a look around you, Evrouin. Do you see any Roterralar? I don’t. All I see is one broken people. Just the Rahuli. We don’t even have a place to call home anymore.”

“Fine, but I don’t know anything about the beasts.”

“It’s time you learned then. Find someone who knows and have them show you what to do. Take the big white ones—the grye. They seem to be handling the cold the best.”

Evrouin opened his mouth, raised one hand, and then let it fall. “Alright,” he said simply, then left.

Gavin watched the man leave and make his way first to Samsin, then back along the line toward where the Roterralar guides were. There were a few scouts in the air, but the vast majority of them walked along with everyone else. The aevians, those they could find at least, flew above them or waited in crags ahead of them for the slower moving humans to catch up. At least, that’s how Gavin saw it.

He longed to whistle for Nabil and join them up in the sky, despite the cold. His grandmother had always said that leaders became such because they were men and women of action, that they became leaders because they actually
did
something. Yet he’d learned that sometimes doing what was best for a group forced leaders to simply become a pillar of strength for them to lean on when something challenging happened. With Khari gravely wounded and near death already and the other clan leaders quiet, broken remnants of what they’d been before, Gavin had been forced into that role, just when he thought he’d figured out his role within the Roterralar.

Gavin sighed and ordered the line back into motion again. Samsin was right. They needed to keep going, and at a faster pace than they were currently walking. The Rahuli people trudged forward through the snow. At the back of the group, a handful of white aevians climbed into the sky.

An hour later, Khari died.

Gavin leapt from Nabil’s back, shivering from the cold, but with an awed warmth spreading through his chest. When the patrols had returned with news of structures in the area Samsin had described, Gavin hadn’t believed it. Thousands upon thousands of tiny structures dotted the valley in front of him, snow covering their roofs in a white blanket. Hundreds, no
thousands
of people scurried through the space between the structures. Gavin faintly heard a horn sound, but didn’t process the information for the warning call it was until he noticed everyone below him scrambling for the buildings. Hundreds broke off and ran for specific points throughout the valley. Samsin landed behind him and flopped down onto the ground. Nabil hissed gently.

“It can’t be,” Samsin whispered, walking up next to Gavin.

“What?”

“They’re slaves.”

Gavin gave him a flat look.

“No really, they’re all slaves. Is that—?”

Samsin cut off as a group of the people below headed in their direction. One figure stood at the forefront, sword in hand. Samsin darted forward, long strides making his passage down the steep slope a quick and easy one.

“Samsin, wait!” Gavin called, but the tall Orinai was already gone. Gavin hesitated for a moment. They didn’t know these people. How did Samsin know them? But Samsin was the only one who knew the way around this place. Gavin chased after him.

“You!” Samsin shouted. “What are you doing here?”

Gavin chased after him. The approaching men, armed with spears, swords and an assortment of clubs and axes, didn’t slow. The man in the lead stopped in front of Samsin, who pulled to a halt as the group of men encircled him. Gavin tried to dodge out of the way, but one of the soldiers slammed his spear in front of him and sent him toppling to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Samsin demanded as he was surrounded in a ring of spears and sword. “How dare you draw weapons on a Great One.”

“Silence, you,” the leader said, sword coming up to rest on Samsin’s shoulder. Gavin got to his feet carefully, keeping his hands out to appear as unthreatening as possible. “Where’s Master Nikanor?”

“He’s dead,” Gavin said. “Died saving us.”

Stunned silence filled the air for a long moment before muted whispers sprang up among the group. The leader silenced them with a single raised hand.

“Who are you?” the leader asked, regarding Gavin with an intent, even condescending expression. Were even the Orinai
slaves
that arrogant? “From which plantation do you hail?”

“You! Explain yourself,” Samsin demanded. “What are you doing here? What is all this?”

The leader ignored him. “From which plantation do you hail?”

Samsin interjected before Gavin could reply. Gavin felt the building power within the Orinai before the sparks appeared on his arms. Why only sparks instead of the bands of energy?

“I will not be ignored, slave. Answer me!”

The leader turned and gave Samsin the coldest, most condescending look Gavin had ever seen. “I am not your slave. I am not
anyone’s
slave. If you move, you’ll be dead before you even feel the prick of the sword.”

Gavin swallowed hard as the sparks on Samsin’s arms died and the power dissipated. It wasn’t the threat, but the cold fury behind the man’s voice.

The leader turned to look at Gavin again. “I will ask you one last time. From which plantation do you hail?”

“I don’t know what a plantation is. My people and I are what’s left of the Rahuli. We’ve got wounded and cold people behind us. Can you help us?”

The leader’s face went from cold and condescending to stunned and disbelieving in less than half a second. The spear tips and sword points bristling in Gavin’s face dipped and quivered as their bearers reacted with their own expressions of shock and surprise.

“He was right?” the leader said, voice soft. “Nikanor was right.”

Gavin held up a hand. No one stopped him. “I don’t mean to be rude or violate any sort of protocols or anything, but I have people dying only a few hours walk from here. Can you help us?”