The Straits of Galahesh: Book Two of The Lays of Anuskaya (23 page)

Then, as one, he and Rabiah were drawn by more movement much closer to them.

At the top of the trail, shuffling along the ground on all fours, was a single akhoz. It sniffed the ground, moved a few paces, then sniffed again. It stopped, its mouth open as if it were tasting the wind. It remained there motionless for so long that Nasim thought it might not have sensed them, that soon it would return to the others, but then it arched its neck, bared its blackened gums and teeth to the sky, and shuffled toward them.

“By the fates, it’s found us,” Nasim said, pulling her by her arm.

They sprinted down the trail.

As steep as the hill was it was difficult to control their pace. Rabiah nearly slid off a curve in the trail and down the steep slope toward the water below, but Nasim caught her wrist, and they skidded along the dry, rocky soil to slow themselves.

Above, the akhoz was gaining ground. They could hear its breathing, snuffing and huffing, which sounded more like a wounded boar than a child. It hunkered down near a tree that hugged the side of the trail and sniffed, then it reared its head back and released a howl that made Nasim’s stomach churn.

It continued, on and on it went until Nasim was forced to stop, to lean over and take deep breaths to keep himself from vomiting. A line of drool slipped from his mouth and fell upon the dry red soil

Rabiah was no better. Her face was white, and her lip quivered as she stared into Nasim’s eyes. The veins along her forehead stood out, her pulse galloping.

“Draw upon a dhoshahezhan,” he said. “Use it to shield us.”

After coughing and pulling herself upright, she did. The walls of Adhiya were thin here. He could feel the hunger of the hezhan—dozens of them—to enter this world. Rabiah was forced to slow the amount of energy she was drawing in order to prevent its crossing.

But already her face was turning red. Spittle leaked from her mouth to fall upon the front of her red robes, and she tightened her fists so hard that the whites of her knuckles and the tendons of her hands stood out. He reached out to calm her, but she slapped his hand away. She pushed as hard as she dared.

The hair on his head and the back of his neck stood on end. A crackle sizzled through the air above them, signaling the crossing of a dhoshahezhan.

But then the long call of the akhoz abruptly ended.

Instead of using the trail, it charged down the slope, heedless of the scrapes along its legs and torso it received from the dry growth.

Nasim could feel the hezhan’s hunger. It was angry, yearning more than ever to enter the material world. Rabiah eased her hold on it, but didn’t release it completely. She kept it near in case they needed it once more.

Nasim took her by the arm and dragged her along the trail. They were nearly at the bottom, but the akhoz was gaining. With Rabiah as weakened as she was, Nasim thought of drawing on another hezhan. Whatever might happen to Rabiah, he could use one to protect them from the akhoz, but in the end he decided it was simply too dangerous. The veil was impossibly thin here; any serious bonding with the hezhan would draw them across, and that was something they could not afford.

Nasim realized the akhoz would be on them if they remained on the path.

“Hold on!” Nasim said.

He took Rabiah by the arm and forced her down the slope as well. They slid, scraping against the uneven ground, the coarse vegetation and dry grasses cutting at their shins and knees and arms as they did their best to control their descent.

They came to the bottom at last, both of them stumbling, flailing their arms in a vain attempt to keep their feet. To no avail. They fell heavily to the ground, but they were back up a moment later, sprinting toward the water as the akhoz reached the valley floor behind them.

They crashed through the water. It was only shin-deep, but it slowed them, and the akhoz quickly caught up. In the short time Nasim spared to glance back he saw it rearing back, its dark skin pulling tight over gaunt ribs as it drew breath.

“Get down!” Nasim cried, pulling her beneath the water.

The cold water swept over them as a wash of flames lit the surface of the river. They swam downstream as far as they could, keeping to the swift, deep center.

When they surfaced, they saw the akhoz trailing them. It could cross, but the water would drain it of strength—perhaps too dearly.

It crouched, staring downriver, where a cluster of rocks stood, forming a navigable bridge, and then, like a hound on the hunt, it bounded toward the stones.

Nasim pulled Rabiah from the water. His muscles ached. Their drenched clothes were heavy.

The red face of the cliff lay achingly close. Water trickled down from it in places, and here there were flowering plants clinging to the rock, making it look like a massive, hanging garden.

Nasim ran toward it, the breath in his lungs burning, and for a moment he didn’t realize that Rabiah was no longer running next to him.

He turned and found that she’d stopped. And her arms were spread wide.

“Rabiah, don’t!”

She didn’t listen. She closed her eyes, and ahead, where the akhoz was leaping from stone to stone, the gravel near the edge of the water shifted. It rumbled. Then it lifted wholesale and sprayed against the water and the akhoz.

Though Nasim was not bonded with the vanahezhan, he could feel its closeness.

The akhoz was momentarily lost in the white, frothing water, but then it gained the bank. It shook its head like a rabid dog. After a moment it refocused on them and galloped, low to the ground, mouth wide, black tongue lolling.

Nasim and Rabiah raced along the base of the cliff. It was uneven terrain—rocky and treacherous.

He couldn’t see the mouth of the cave.

But it was
here
. Somewhere. He was sure of it.

The akhoz reached the inlet.

Nasim and Rabiah came to a cleft in the stone. It was deep and dark, which was a vast relief to Nasim. They’d found the entrance at last. But the akhoz was too close. They couldn’t simply retreat and hope the akhoz would lose their scent.

Before they’d even passed through the entrance, Nasim drew upon Rabiah and the nearest of the vanahezhan. He could sense its deep hunger for Erahm, and this time he was counting on it.

They continued, but when they were fully in the darkness of the cavern at last, Nasim spun and drew on the full strength of the hezhan. He felt the weight of the stone around him, felt it flow up through his legs, through his chest and into his arms. He felt solid and deep and immovable.

The earth rumbled. It shook. Dust sifted down from the roof of the cave. Chunks of it broke away. A stream of stone and dust fell between them and the akhoz. The sound of it was echoing, deafening within the confines of the cavern.

Then something changed. Nasim felt the hezhan drawing upon
him
. He coughed as his heart skipped a beat and he fell to his knees.

The akhoz was going to gain the entrance to the cave despite the falling stone. It was scrabbling forward along the ground, skirting the wall of the entrance. Stones were striking it, cutting into its pale skin and drawing dark blood, but it was avoiding the bulk of falling stone.

The feeling in Nasim’s chest intensified. It felt as though the mountain itself were pressing down on him. He couldn’t breathe. He could only exhale, until at last the edges of his vision began to glint.

He saw, by the bare light filtering in from the outside, Rabiah standing next to him. He felt the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

And in that one moment he felt a grand release.

No longer did he have any sort of connection to the earth. No longer could he feel the vanahezhan.

The akhoz had nearly gained the entrance to the cavern, but it stopped, perhaps sensing something. It stared to one side and crawled backward, staring at the opposite wall of the tunnel. It drew in a deep breath and released a gout of flame as a mound of earth with four arms and two legs the size of tree trunks pulled away from the wall. The flame blasted the emerging hezhan where the head was, baking the earth. It must have felt pain or discomfort, for it ducked and grabbed at the akhoz’s ankle and pulled it away from the wall.

There was no way for the akhoz to survive this battle, not if it remained within the heart of the earth. It clawed furiously at the earthen hand that had grabbed hold of its leg, breaking free, then it darted for the light, heedless of the few remaining stones now falling.

The flow of earth, which had abated somewhat, resumed as the vanahezhan threw one arm forward, spraying the back of the akhoz with a gout of sharp rock and stone.

And then a great rumble shook the cavern.

Nasim and Rabiah backed away. It continued for long moments, the earth around them resounding from the force of it.

Until at last the rumbling died away, leaving only dying echoes in the distance.

And then all was silence.

All was darkness.

N
ikandr stood at the gunwales of the
Chaika
, staring at the horizon. It could barely be seen, but it was there—the island of Rafsuhan. Closer, less than a league from the
Chaika’s
position, was a small island—little more than an inhospitable piece of rock that refused to yield to the sea’s incessant waves.

These waters had been difficult to reach. As distant as the nearest spires on Rhavanki were, the ley lines were weak, and they succumbed all too often to random currents of aether, sending the ship twisting in the wind, or worse, dropping dangerously toward the sea. Still, it was better than open sea. There were still shallows that led eastward from Mirkotsk and the Northern Sea to the islands controlled by the Maharraht.

To the southwest, a silhouette against the bright yellow sunset, was the
Strovya
. Nikandr had ordered them to run as a decoy, hopefully pulling any ships away that might be watching. But so far the
Strovya
had not been approached. In fact, they’d not found any resistance at all, and so, as had been agreed, the
Strovya
would continue west to Mirkotsk and finally head south, toward Khalakovo, toward home.

“It isn’t too late to reconsider.”

Nikandr turned and found Jahalan approaching. His right leg ended in a wooden peg. The bottom of it was wrapped in triple-thick goat hide, and Jahalan had become quite accustomed to it, but even the small thump it made as Jahalan made his way across the deck reminded him of Ghayavand, where Jahalan’s leg had been wounded by the serpents and they’d been forced to amputate in order to save his life.

Nikandr forced himself to focus on the winds. Jahalan had long become used to the wound. Why couldn’t
he
?

“I cannot turn back,” Nikandr said when Jahalan finally reached his side. The winds were in their favor, so there was no need for Jahalan to guide them.

“You can. You just won’t admit it to yourself. Soroush will never turn, and neither will anyone else on the island.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“About the Maharraht?”

“About Soroush. He is a hard man, but above all he is loyal to his people.”

“
Nyet
. He would sacrifice every last one of them if he could rid the islands of the Grand Duchy.”

“This is my point. He is no closer to that than he was when he joined them, and if he loses more of his people, his goals are even further away, perhaps even unattainable. As much as he hates me, as much as he loathes the notion of helping one of the Landed, he will join us.”

The ship was beginning to lower. Nikandr studied the smaller island they approached. It was still several leagues out from Rafsuhan, and it was an excellent place to hide the
Chaika
for the time they’d be on the island. It was craggy, with several small inlets where they could moor the ship.

“Even if you’re right,” Nikandr continued, “we cannot ignore the chance to learn more about the rift.”

“Small chance of doing that if you’re dead.”

“You don’t long for a chance to speak with them?”

“To what end? I don’t approve of the Maharraht or their methods, and given the chance, I will admit that I yearn to learn more of them, but I’m a realist. It may be that none of them will learn in this life, or even the next. A dozen cycles may pass before they’ve undone the damage they’re doing in this life.”