The Azureans Page 3

  “Yes. I hope so. I think so. But not now. I won’t know for sure until I’ve visited the chamber at the pine tree circle.”

  “Hope is the constant of life,” the old man says. He’s smiling.

  “That is your last stop?” Dynd asks.

  “No, there are two more after that.” I glance at Mara, and she cringes. Maybe I shouldn’t have been upfront about that.

  Dynd scoffs, but much of the hardness has left his face. “Very well. I will help you, but you must not tell anyone else that I am here, and you must follow my instructions exactly on this journey. At all times. I assume that you’re working with the village leadership?”

  “Yes. Sharue, Ler, and Ziru.”

  Dynd grunts when I say Ziru’s name. “I do like Ziru. You can tell them, as long as they also promise to keep it a secret.”

  “They will.” This is the miracle we’re all hoping for.

  Dynd walks to the door, but turns around before going inside. “There is something genuine about you, blue princess. You have given me hope. You’re not a leader yet, but I can see that you may be someday. I will hear from you soon?”

  “Yes.”

  He turns and the door slams behind him. The old man says goodbye and follows, leaving me and Mara alone in a sea of clucking birds.

  “He was really nice,” Mara says as we hurry through the droppings back to the main trail. “And really handsome.”

  I smile. He was nice, and perhaps good looking, but he’s more than that. He’s a way forward—someone who can help us find the grove of pine trees.

  3 Inflictions

  Karl

  “All done,” Buen says.

  At least I’m fairly confident that’s what he said. His bright blue eyes glow in the candlelight. Light doesn’t come out of Buen’s eyes—his eyes glow like a white t-shirt glows under black light. It’s eerie. No wonder the mountain people distrusted me.

  I repeat the words and motion toward the door. Buen smiles. I was right; it’s time to leave. Buen has been trying to teach me how to read for hours. Some of the characters look a little familiar now, but it will be forever before I understand this language.

  My arms buckle as I push myself up. The muscles in my arms, like every other muscle in my body, ache. A lot. After horses this morning, Buen trained me in knife throwing. Then we ran stairs. We fought through obstacles, climbed over fences, and lifted heavy objects. We dueled with large wooden sticks, which means my body is covered in bruises. My legs are so tight I can barely walk. My abs are sore, and my back won’t bend.

  Buen walks briskly out of the room and I stumble after him, concentrating on staying vertical. My head pounds with a headache. I pushed myself harder physically today than I ever have in my life. Today was PhD school orientation for my body. Hopefully my body can catch up faster than my mind did in PhD school.

  I stumble as I reach the stairs that leave the library, but Buen catches me. He puts my arm around his shoulders and leans me against him.

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  It’s the phrase I’ve heard the most today.

  Buen supports my weight up the stairs. There is a lot of weight to support, but Buen is strong and I lean on him. I wouldn’t make this climb without his help.

  “You’re strong,” Buen says. I understand from the hand gestures he makes.

  I laugh. “No. I am not strong.”

  “Strong here.” He points at my heart.

  By the time we get to the last set of stairs, Buen is carrying me. My entire body jolts with pain from the shock of my own weight when he lets me go. Buen is strong. After pushing me all day, he walks to his room with only his slight limp. I stagger to my room, anxious to be in bed and off my feet.

  I worked hard today. Was it because of inner strength, or was it because of fear? Am I strong? I’m the student who couldn’t stand up to the department chair when I was falsely accused of fraud. I’m the boyfriend who hid in my studies and ignored my girlfriend when she was lonely. I’m the son who broke all the promises I made to my mom on her deathbed.

  I want to be strong. Maybe someday I will be. Growing up, Dad used to tell me, “You’ve come from good stock.” I always scoffed at the farm animal analogy. I’ve probably proven Dad wrong enough times to show that animal breeding genetics have little to do with inner character. It’s my choices, and I need to start making better ones.

  I stumble into my room, past the “Karu” chiseled into the door. I wish I had acetaminophen. Even though I’m completely exhausted, I’m not sure how well I’m going to sleep with this headache.

  Za’an bows her head submissively as I latch the door.

  “I tired,” I say in the strange language as I point to the bed. “I go.”

  The corners of Za’an’s mouth tug a little, and she gives up her submissive pretense. “No,” she says, and she goes off talking in her gibberish language.

  “I no understand.” These are words I have said many times today.

  She steps up to me and grabs my robe. She shakes it and says something. She points at the bed and shakes her head.

  She doesn’t want me to get into bed with this robe on. I’m not going to argue, and so, despite the throes of my headache, I let her disrobe my aching body. The robe is so caked in the sweat of the day that it’s as stiff as cardboard. One could fold it like paper and make an airplane. What would Wynn think, seeing a large robe airplane flying out of the tower window?

  Za’an pushes me toward the shower. All I want is to get in bed and curl into a ball, but I stumble over to the washing area. Yes, I’m naked in front of my slave again, but I don’t even care. I start a half-hearted wash. Za’an joins me and takes over, but I’m too tired to protest. She cleans and dries me and hands me a robe. I pull it over my head and fall into bed.

  I moan and rub my temples. And then I open my eyes and find Za’an standing right next to the bed.

  Will she just go away? It’s like my sister Pearl following me and my girlfriend Andrea when we were kids. I’ve done what Za’an asked; I’m clean now. I curl into a ball. I want the pain and the girl to go away. My arms ache, my legs ache, my back aches. Maybe I’ll fall asleep and the pain and this castle and the girl and even Buen will disappear.

  I hear a scraping sound. Za’an pulls a large clay pot from her closet and sets it next to the bed.

  “I do this,” she says.

  “I tired,” I say, in English. My head throbs. I wish to suffer in peace.

  Za’an climbs on the bed. I groan and roll away. She shifts on the bed and then her cold hands touch the back of my neck. They’re wet with a cool ointment that burns when it touches my skin. Her strong fingers dig into my muscles. I cry out, but Za’an keeps working, and I’m too tired to stop her.

  After a few minutes, the muscles in my neck relax.

  She doesn’t stop after my neck, but moves to my shoulders, working under my robe. My shoulders loosen and my headache dissipates. What kinds of drugs are in the ointment? Something better than acetaminophen! The relief from the headache is heavenly; my entire body relaxes like a stick of butter melting in the microwave.

  I’m probably going to train tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. But, for tonight, I’m done. By the time Za’an finishes my right arm and starts on my left, I feel sleep coming, and I let it take me.

  4 Innovate

  Lydia

  The sky is barely lit when I wake up. I roll out of the large fuma skin and shiver as my bare skin comes in contact with the morning air. I slept with a smaller fuma skin last night so I would wake at first light, and it worked.

  On the hike from Watch, Ler explained how fuma skins work. From what he told me, I’ve decided the fuma fur has a chemical that reacts with human skin to induce sleep in the absence of light. However, when light shines on the skin, other chemicals are released, turning the reaction from sleep-inducing to stimulant. The people here are so adjusted to the fuma skins that they struggle to sleep without them.

 
; I dress quickly into the mountain-garb: tights and tunic, and then I roll up the skin. It won’t be coming up the canyon with me. Not only is it big and bulky, it takes away the ability to detect night-time threats.

  Mara gives me a weak smile when I walk into the front room. She sits against the wall, staring into space and singing her horrible valley lullaby. Jarra sucks nosily at her breast.

  “We’ll be back in not too many days.” I bend over and wrap my arm awkwardly around her shoulders.

  “I’ll miss you.” Her words slur together as she speaks. Huge bags hang under her eyes.

  “You look exhausted.” I crouch down so I can look into her eyes.

  “Jarra didn’t sleep last night,” she mumbles.

  “You look like you didn’t either. Did you try the fuma skin?”

  Mara’s eyes grow wide. “I told you—those things are evil! They steal your soul.”

  Mara’s hair hangs over her face and her eyes are dark as she stares at the floor. I’ve heard about postpartum depression, but I’ve never seen it up close and personal before. Is she going to be okay? I stand up and start to the door, only to turn around. Mara doesn’t look up, and she starts to sing again. She needs sleep. Will Jarra let her?

  I sigh, frustrated that I’m leaving my friend in her moment of need. “Maybe you can get some sleep today,” I say weakly. I walk back over and pat her on the shoulder.

  She closes her eyes. “Perhaps.” The word is flat and neither of us believe it.

  I hover awkwardly over her, towering over her scrunched-up form. She’ll have to look out for herself. I need to go.

  My spirits are low as I jog into the village and meet up with Dynd and Ler. For some reason, Sharue is here as well, her servant girl hovering in the shadows.

  “Hi everyone.” I join the small circle. Ler and Dynd have their packs on.

  Sharue eyes me warily and turns her back to me. “As I was saying. You need more people with you. As the leader of Keeper, I should be going.”

  “We’ll bring back a full report before the snows come,” Ler says.

  Dynd kicks a rock impatiently. “We should go.”

  “At least tell me where you’re going.” Sharue sounds like a five-year-old who was just told she can’t go to the circus. “That way we can come to the rescue if you don’t make it back.”

  Dynd sighs. “Okay, fine. We need to go over the plan anyway. We’ll walk through it, and then we’re leaving.”

  Sharue doesn’t argue. Dynd kneels in the dirt and draws a simple map of the canyon with his finger. We all squat around it, and I end up getting sandwiched between Dynd and Sharue. She smells like lilacs and lavender. Why is she up, dressed, and covered with perfume this early in the morning?

  Sharue’s tag-along inches up behind me and peers over Sharue’s head. I eye her suspiciously, but no one else notices her.

  “You’ll head up the main trail?” Sharue asks.

  Dynd shakes his head. “There are two ways up the canyon. The main trail goes on the left side of the canyon. This is where most of the game travel, and this is where hunters will be. Taking this route will put us in contact with hungry parties who will slit our throats for our supplies. We will take the other side of the canyon pass up.”

  “But, that is dangerous!” Sharue says. “There are cliffs and drop-offs. There is a reason game take the trails on the other side of the canyon.”

  “I know my way around the mountains, Sharue,” Dynd says. “My job is to keep us alive, not to take an easy road.” He glowers at her, and Sharue cowers from his furious gaze. It’s the first time I’ve seen her intimidated.

  “Sounds good, Dynd. Let’s go!” I hop up and stretch. I’m anxious to hit the trail, to get away from Sharue, and to finish the trip so I can come back to Mara.

  But, while Sharue may have withered beneath Dynd’s glare, she’s not scared of me. She stands up too. “Not so fast, you little imp!” she shouts. “I still don’t know where you’re going.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Dynd shakes his head and points back at his map. “Once we reach a small village called Shan, built around a large berry patch, we’ll cross the ravine and travel straight north. We’ll cross over the main trail and get to the pine trees. It will probably take us two days to reach the village, and then another to get to the grove. Without delays, we will return within the week.”

  Sharue doesn’t say anything else, and I match Dynd’s brisk pace away from Keeper. Considering that we plan to be gone a week, the packs are unexpectedly light. Dynd said we won’t want to be encumbered by large packs. I just hope they carry enough food.

  We walk in silence for the first few miles, the only sounds coming from our feet crunching on the rocky ground and our breathing as we suck in the thin mountain air. The morning air is chilly, chillier than Seattle. It seems like it’s cold enough to snow, but I wouldn’t know.

  Eventually, the sun makes it over the tips of the mountains and illuminates the canyon with light. It’s another several hours before we take our first break. The aches and fatigue seem to fade when I turn around for the first time. From this high up I can see forever over the valley. It stretches for miles into the horizon. Although I’ve been told the valley is filled with people, I can’t see any evidence of it from up here; the entire valley floor is green with forest.

  For a moment, I forget about Mara and our quest and the scramble we’re going to have to take to get to the pine trees. I stand on a mountain, surrounded by snow-capped peaks in the crisp morning, looking out over forever. The morning breeze cools my skin, the scent of the dust from the trail fills my nostrils. And, for a moment, I’m happy. When a thought of Karl crosses my mind, I believe he must be alive down there somewhere.

  A hand on my arm makes me jump, and I look into Ler’s eyes. “Do you like the view?” he asks.

  “Yes. Do you think Karl is down there somewhere?”

  “No.” Ler’s smile fades. And with that single word, the magic of the moment disappears.

  Dynd waves, and Ler and I follow him up the trail. “It’s hard for me to believe he’s dead,” I say.

  Ler’s feet crunch on the trail behind me. “I feel the same way about Cadah. I still expect to go home after this is over and take her into my arms again.”

  Is Karl just as dead as Cadah? What would his family say to me if they knew he was dead on my account?

  “The trail is difficult from here on out,” Dynd calls back, as if the steep trail has been easy up until now. My quads burn and my calves are tight. I can do this.

  “Stay close to me, and we’ll all be alive at the end of this.”

  All of us, but not Karl and Cadah.

  ✽✽✽

  We travel through tight ravines and over large passes. We scale up short cliffs; we walk on rocky rims. People would pay millions for experiences like this, and I try to enjoy every moment—at least every moment that I’m not worried about falling down a crevasse.

  Dynd is constantly listening and watching for anything that might signify trouble. Fortunately, we don’t have any. By the evening of the second day, we’re out of the peaks and just outside of Shan.

  “Let’s wait here until nightfall.” Dynd leads us to a small clearing in the shadows of a cliff. “I would rather sneak around the village in the night.”

  “How many people are in this village?” I ask.

  “Last I was here, it was about 400,” Dynd says. “With the war, it probably isn’t that many. There might not even be anyone here anymore. We’ll take a path around the outskirts of the village; the moon should be bright tonight, so we can scale through the canyon in the dark. We’ll rest there and head to the grove of pines tomorrow.”

  One more day. Surely, we can make it safely for one more day.

  We stop beside a large boulder and sit down. Ler sits next to me and hands me some animal jerky. I sink my teeth into it. The sweet flavor fills my mouth and gives strength to my aching body. When I open my eyes, Dynd and Ler
have gone completely still. Dynd’s dark face has turned white.

  Stirring in the bushes. It sounds like a large animal.

  “We’re not alone,” Dynd whispers.

  He jumps to his feet and hides behind the boulder, Ler at his heels. I follow uncertainly. Hiding here can’t be a good plan. We’re trapped—there are only two ways into this clearing, and I can hear rustling from both directions.

  The rustling stops, and I peer over the rock to see a large man, the same size as Dynd. He growls when he sees the packs in the dirt. “So, it’s you,” he says. “Come out and we won’t kill you.” He laughs, the kind of laugh that is really a taunt. I duck back down. I don’t see a way out of here. How many of them are there?

  “I only see three packs,” the man sneers. “That means you’re outnumbered and ...”

  The sentence ends in a weird gurgling sound. A few paces to my right, Ler ducks down and grabs a knife from his tunic. I gasp and look over the rock again. A knife is lodged in the man’s neck. Blood flows out of the wound and his eyes roll back in his head. I lick my lips and close my eyes, sucking the air in rapid breaths.

  I don’t have knives, nor could I do anything with them if I did. There may be three packs, but there are only two people trained in combat.

  My shoulders tense as the man falls and wheezes out his last breath. Where are the other men? How many are there?

  I fight the impulse to curl into a ball.

  Hemazury. I remember Cylus and the cave and wonder if hemazury would be useful in a situation like this. I think back to what Cylus taught me. I have to make contact with someone before I can do anything. And I’ve always healed, not hurt. Also, I’m slow. I close my eyes.

  Images flash into my mind. The leopard lying in the stream, Arujan standing over Cadah’s broken body. Is this how Karl felt before he died? What will my body look like when I’m dead? I grind my teeth with anxiety. My palms are sweaty, my breathing fast. My heart pounds in my chest. I crouch low, trying to be ready for anything.