His hand fell to the hilt of his sword; his sharp gaze turned far away. “Are you sure you still want to go? This has become far more than a rescue of two women from an unknown assailant.”
“We have gone too far to turn back now. I will ride with you, Sorcerer.” She lifted her hand, and he clasped it with his own, making a joined fist to seal their vow.
“Besides,” she added with a grin, “in the words of Hydan, ‘I still haven’t seen this Lady Gabria.’”
11
Kelene gripped the gryphon’s sides with her knees and dug her fingers into the feathery-fur down to touch the creature’s warm skin. After a lot of practice, she had learned that the best way to communicate with the creature was through the same sort of mental link she could establish with the Hunnuli. It was difficult and tiring, but the gryphon was much more likely to obey that than a mouthful of nonsense words shouted in her ear. Down, young one. It is getting too dark, to fly.
A growl issued from the gryphon’s throat, but she finally obeyed and began to spiral slowly to earth.
Kelene sighed. Riding a gryphon was exciting, because unlike Demira, the animal had been flying since birth. Exquisitely graceful, as skilled as any bird, she read the nuances of the forever changing currents and flew as if her body were a part of the wind. But she was also willful, resentful, and still very wild under the weak link of obedience Kelene had established. Unlike Demira, who adored her rider, Kelene knew the gryphon only tolerated her and waited for the day she would be set free. The sorceress understood how she felt and tried to be as kind as possible, but that did not make riding the gryphon over these long, hot days any easier.
Kelene would have given almost anything to fly the gryphon away—almost anything but Gabria’s and Nara’s lives. The gryphon, too, would have to pay a price too high, for Zukhara had fashioned a collar spelled to release a killing bolt if she flew beyond two leagues of his position. Kelene did not know how the collar worked, but she was not going to find out by testing it. There had to be some other way she could take her mother, Nara, and the gryphon and escape from Zukhara. She just had to be patient and keep looking.
Kelene glanced down toward the ground. Already Zukhara’s army had stopped and made camp along the Spice Road. She sighed again and fought down the despair that seemed to hover over her with increasing potency.
When she first heard Zukhara’s plans, a part of her mind had dismissed them as the ravings of a deluded man, but in the past four days, everything had happened as he had said it would. The moment he stood before his followers at Impala Springs and proclaimed himself the new, true leader of the Turic tribes, men had flocked to his call. Kelene had no notion how he spread the word so fast—unless he had preplanned it—but true to his word, on the tenth day after he threatened Kelene, he called his holy war, and men from all over the realm arrived to answer his summons.
Thank the gods, Kelene thought, he had not fulfilled his threat to remove her arm for the diamond splinter. After Gabria had explained that there were no more splinters, and he had satisfied himself that the women’s could not be surgically removed, he dropped the issue for the time being and contented himself by awing his followers with demonstrations of his power, until everyone knew Zukhara did indeed carry the Lightning of the North in his hands.
In the meanwhile, Zukhara commanded Kelene to fly the gryphon at the head of his ever-growing army as it marched south toward Cangora. Even from the air the sorceress had seen the awe and the fear the gryphon’s presence wrought. Some people bowed low to the golden creature, others stared in stunned surprise, and still others fled at her approach. No one tried to withstand Zukhara’s army. The force of fanatics, rebels, and supporters marched unopposed along the caravan road. There seemed to be no one willing to make a stand for the Shar-Ja. Would it be the same in his own city?
The gryphon swept low over the parched grass. She was stiff and unwilling to land yet, so Kelene let her fly a few more minutes along the road. They had flown south only a short distance from the army when the gryphon’s ears perked forward and her nostrils twitched at the warm breeze.
Suddenly a light gust swept by, and Kelene smelled it too, the heavy stench of rotting bodies. She almost reeled in her place. A sharp, piercing picture burst from her memory, an image of her return to the clan gathering during the worst of the plague. Her stomach lurched, and Kelene forced her memories back before they overwhelmed her self-control.
Ahead through the twilight, she saw several shadowy things on the verge of the road. She peered harder, and as the gryphon flew closer, the entire disaster became clear. Burned and broken wagons, vans, and chariots lay on both sides of the path for as far as Kelene could see in the dimming light. Their contents were scattered everywhere, already picked over by looters. Dead horses bloated among the wreckage, and wherever Kelene looked, in the trampled grass, by the wagons, in small or large heaps, lay the bodies of dead men.
Kelene quickly turned the gryphon away and, ignoring her annoyed hiss, told her to return to the camp. They came to land in a clear space near Zukhara’s tent. Her hands shaking, Kelene fastened the gryphon’s chains as Zukhara had instructed, gave her a heaping meal of goat meat, and strode into Zukhara’s tent. Whatever she had intended to say was immediately squelched by Zukhara’s sharp gesture.
“Sit!” he ordered and pointed to a smaller chair near his. The man was seated in a large, ornate, high-backed chair near the center of his spacious tent. Bright lamps lit the interior, and beautiful woven rugs covered the floor. Zukhara had dressed in black pants and a black robe embroidered with a golden gryphon standing rampant. The clothes were simple yet rich and on his tall, limber frame, very elegant. He sat composed, waiting expectantly with his officers on either side.
Kelene reluctantly perched on the chair he indicated. By Amara, if she had to swallow any more resentment, Kelene swore she would burst. She hated being put on display like this! Being the Gryphon’s “Chosen” had a few privileges, but they were all heavily outweighed by the disadvantages. She could only be thankful that he had been too busy to force his attentions on her again.
She heard the tread of boots outside, and eight men crowded into the tent. All but one saluted and bowed low before Zukhara. Kelene gasped. The one man who did not, or could not, bow was the Shar-Ja. If he had looked old and sick at Council Rock, he looked near death now. His once strong face sagged with loose folds of grayish skin. His red-rimmed eyes were nearly lost in the sunken shadows of his haggard face. He barely had the strength to stay upright, yet he fought off any hand that touched him and through some force of supreme will managed to stand unaided before Zukhara.
“Good,” the Gryphon said, a short, sharp bark of approval. “You caught him alive. And the boy?”
One officer stepped forward. “Your Highness, we have not yet found his body, nor the guard who was with him.”
A flicker of anger passed over Zukhara’s features, but he merely commanded, “Keep looking. I want no loose ends.”
“And what of me?” the Shar-Ja said scornfully. His voice had a surprising timbre to it that demanded Zukhara’s attention. “Am I a loose end, too?”
The lamplight fell in the Gryphon’s eyes and turned to black fire in a face as still and cold as ice. “No, Shar-Ja Rassidar. You are a very important part of my plans. Do you know the Ritual of Ascension?”
The old man gave a fierce bark of laughter and somehow stood straighter until he towered over the men around him. Kelene had not realized until then just how tall he really was, or how proud. “I am aware of the ritual. It was abolished several centuries ago.”
Zukhara’s smile came, quick and feral. “Yes, and in the name of Twice Blessed Sargun and to the glory of the Living God, I intend to resurrect the old ways, beginning with the Ritual.” He gestured to his men. “Take him to his wagon and keep him there. No one is to see him or go near him.” The men swiftly obeyed.