‘Look,’ said Querrus. ‘Does it seem to you that the Cloud is closer today?’
Bel considered the mountainous grey vapour to the south. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘It is hard to say from here.’
‘I think it is,’ said Querrus. ‘I think it creeps to cover the Mines.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Bel. ‘It will not creep long.’
A cool kind of anger was with him this day. He felt together, in control. Strange, considering the situation. Or maybe he was exactly where he needed to be.
A group of Arabodedas hauling the catapults began to fall behind the rest. Sarshan had spoken of how the Shadowdreamer had arrived with the machines levitating, yet now he seemed content to let them trail behind.
Hmm , thought Bel. So you do not speed them this time, Losara. Are you giving your mages time to regain their strength slowly in the sun? Or was it so easy for you to take the Mines with your fell creature that you do not fear to be without them?
‘North they head, by the looks,’ said Querrus. ‘Maybe towards Jeddies?’
‘I think so.’
‘I’ve heard it said that Vorthargs and Mireforms are not able to survive long without water.’
‘Aye,’ said Bel. ‘Following the river makes sense, then.’ He turned away. ‘Sarshan?’
The woman sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Take word to Brahl – the dreamer moves towards Jeddies.’
She rose smoothly to her feet.
‘Tell him to come with all possible haste. I shall meet him a league south of the town.’
‘But what if the shadow reaches Jeddies first?’
Bel held her gaze for a moment. ‘It won’t,’ he said.
Looking a tad uncertain about the message she carried, Sarshan swung herself up on her horse and led it out of the copse. As she took off, Bel wondered if she would be spotted, perhaps by Graka in the air. Well, no matter. They were far enough away here that she should be safe.
‘So,’ said Querrus, ‘I take it you have some kind of plan?’
Bel put his finger to his neck and ran it under the chain of black gold, flipping the Stone of Evenings Mild out from under his shirt.
‘Do you know what this is?’ he said.
•
They set out, giving the shadow a wide berth. Querrus lent Taritha some speed, but it was not the frantic pelting of the day before. They were still leagues from Jeddies, more than enough time to get there ahead of the slow-moving shadow army. Soon the patrolling Graka were but dots in the skies behind, and the horde on the ground had disappeared from view. Once or twice they spied Kainordan scouts, and even a far-reaching patrol. Something floating high above could have been a Zyvanix, but Bel wasn’t sure. It seemed that Brahl was maintaining a many-threaded web, keeping close watch on the enemy’s progress.
As they went, the dusty plains were replaced by more fertile ground. Soon there was plush grass underfoot, and along the Nyul’ya trees grew like a fence, and insects chirped in the long grasses.
‘We should let Taritha graze a while,’ said Querrus.
‘Certainly,’ agreed Bel. ‘There’s no rush.’
He brought her to a stop, and they got off to stretch their legs. Taritha put her head down gratefully and set to work munching.
‘Well,’ said Querrus, ‘would you look at that.’
By the river was a little hut, the chimney smoking. A path led down from it onto a short pier, from which a man was fishing.
‘Do you think he knows that all Fenvarrow is about to knock on his door?’ said Querrus.
Bel felt himself going blank. It was an annoying interruption to the feeling of being in control. Querrus looked at him oddly – some response was required, he knew. He forced himself to speak.
‘I suppose not,’ he said.
‘We should go and warn him.’
Ah yes, that was the right thing to do. Why not?
‘Of course,’ he said.
As they moved towards the man, Bel realised they had left Taritha untethered.
‘Should we not tie her up?’
‘I don’t think she’d like that,’ said Querrus, and tapped his head. ‘So she tells me.’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Bel. Strange to think of the connection between the mage and his horse, to which Bel was not privy. He hadn’t considered it at all, even though he knew some mages were skilled at communing with animals. ‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘She’s fine,’ said Querrus. ‘I thought she might be crotchety about carrying the both of us, but she’s a strong one, and it has barely crossed her mind.’
‘Well, you’re quite light,’ said Bel, then checked to see if he’d offended.
‘Aye,’ said Querrus, not seeming to mind at all. ‘And she enjoys running around.’
‘Does she know …well …what’s going on?’
‘No, not really. I could try to make her understand, but why burden her?’
Bel nodded.
The fisherman noticed them approaching, and set down his pole.
Like we’re about to burden this fellow , thought Bel.
Morningbridge
Fahren had journeyed here once before, though he hadn’t gone all the way to the path’s end. It was never wise to attract a god’s attention frivolously, and that last trip had been in his youth, on the simple business of seeing the wonder of the Morningbridge Peaks, days that seemed long ago now.
‘And they are,’ he muttered, as he huffed his way upwards.
They were traversing a narrow stair, unevenly cut into red mountain rock. In the late afternoon the place was still torrid, the air wavering above parched stones. To their left gaped Morningbridge Valley, a deep bowl filled with sand, scorpions and skittering beetles. Ringing it on all sides were mountains like the one they climbed, reaching skywards with sharp-headed peaks, as if a giant crown had fallen from the heavens to be settled on by red dirt. Opposite them, across the valley, were the two tallest mountains, the Twin Sceptres, creating a deep V where they met. Beyond them was the Shallow Sea, and sunrise.
Ahead, Battu soldiered on grimly. How he must hate being here, thought Fahren, in Kainordas’s most holy of places, not to mention its hottest …yet here he was. It grew harder each day to doubt the man’s resolve.
‘Do you enjoy this?’ said Battu, as if in response to his thoughts, waving a dark-sleeved hand in a sweeping gesture that encompassed everything they saw. ‘This stifling heat? Is it pleasurable to your kind?’
‘No,’ said Fahren. ‘Perhaps you will draw comfort from knowing that I think it’s much too hot.’
Battu grunted, and slumped down on a rock by the side of the stair. He pulled off a boot with some difficulty, for sweat made it stick to his skin, and knocked out a pebble. Usually the man preferred to be barefoot, but Fahren had warned him not to come so here, where the ground could cook you from the feet up.
‘Come, Battu. We have almost reached the bridge.’
Slowly, begrudgingly, Battu slid his boot back on.
A little further up they came to a small plateau on the side of the mountain where the stair ended. At its edge the next mountainside loomed past but a stone’s throw away, though between was a drop of almost half a league. Overlooking the valley stood a pair of posts, from which rope was tied back to stakes in the ground – all of which proved, on closer inspection, to be carved from stone. It looked like the way onto a bridge, yet no bridge hung over the empty space.
‘This is it?’ said Battu, a touch of condemnation in his voice.
‘It is. Not what you expected?’
‘It’s a little on the modest side. But I suppose that is my own prejudice – I always expect the light to be garish, colourful …vulgar. To find the gateway to Arkus looking like this …well …’ He scowled. ‘It puts me in mind of my own throne room. Nothing fancy, just what’s needed.’
‘Do not fear,’ said Fahren. ‘When the bridge appears, nothing extra is needed to awe.’