EXILED Wizard of Tizare Page 19

“There, a ladder just ahead.” Sirrom grabbed Ashre’s hand. “Quickly, now.”

  Sirrom went up first, but he kept glancing back at Ashre, making sure that he was following. Ashre heard him push at something, and suddenly he felt the cool air, just above.

  “Quick, my hand!” Sirrom leaned down and pulled Ashre up with one effortless jerk.

  And Ashre felt that something was missing. No claws. It could only mean one thing.

  Yet Ashre knew that it couldn’t be true.

  Sirrom couldn’t be a murderer.

  He flew onto the roof. “There ...” Sirrom mumbled, somberly.

  Ashre went to the edge of the temple’s roof. He could see them, just barely outlined against the horizon.

  “No time.” Sirrom said. He looked right at Ashre, and gave him a big grin. “There’s no time to get away, is there, Ash? So,” he hoisted the kit on his shoulders, “we’ll get a chance for a little fun, eh?”

  Ashre nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. If fun was coming then he shouldn’t have the strange, sick feeling he had.

  “Best for us to get back and give everyone the good news,” Sirrom said.

  And he seemed almost happy leading Ashre back to the others.

  •

  Falon had his pack all wrapped up, with just his own short sword out, strapped to his side. .

  He looked at Taline, fussing with her pack while Anarra hovered nearby.

  He found it hard to say anything to her. Other images kept popping up in his mind.

  Sirrom came back quickly.

  “I’m afraid it’s no good,” he said.

  “No good. For what?” Falon asked.

  “For a getaway, friend. They’ll be here too quickly. I suggest we start making some plans.”

  Taline came over. “Even if we leave right away—”

  Sirrom shook his head. “They’d catch us in the open desert. Here, at least, we have a chance.” He turned to Falon.

  “Falon, you take a spot on top of the temple and lie low. Ashre will protect the stairs. Go after them when they pass you. Anarra will stay with Taline. If necessary, we’ll fall back by the west wall of the town.” He made a small laugh. “But let’s hope they’re a distant memory by then.”

  Taline came over to Falon. “You’re not a fighter, so don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ve seen my share of battles. My father believed in a complete education.”

  “It looks like Sirrom’s been around too,” Falon said, gesturing at their self-appointed general. “I hope he knows what he’s doing—”

  “I think he does,” Taline said with a smile. She knelt down close to Ashre. “And you, don’t do anything crazy. Stay on the stairs. Watch out for Falon.” She grabbed his shoulders. “And by tomorrow, what tales we’ll have to tell.”

  “Come, we must get into place,” Sirrom hissed.

  Falon watched them leave, vanish down the gloomy sidewalks. Who knows, he thought, maybe never to be seen again.

  It was still night, though there seemed to be the slightest glow beginning to bloom in the west. But the light wouldn’t come quickly enough to help them.

  “Shouldn’t we move, Falon?” Ashre asked.

  “Yes,” he said, absently. Something bothered him about the setup ... something simple. It stuck in his mind like a tiny thorn, irritating him.

  Why was this small band arriving in the night? If it hadn’t been for Ash, they would have been slain, pure and simple, the book removed.

  It was as if, yes, as if the band knew they would be here. They arrived on schedule, with only one incalculable flaw. And something more ... an idea that only now became clear. Could someone on their little jaunt be in league with them? Anarra ... Sirrom ... Taline. Was that impossible?

  He was in over his head here, fighting bands from the East and an assassin from the West. Perhaps tending the herd-beasts wasn’t such a bad life after all.

  “Please ... Falon ... it grows late.”

  He nodded. The little one had more confidence than he’d ever have. And maybe more bravery too.

  “Come then. Let’s to our places. And I hope we miss it all.”

  Ashre led the way inside the temple, and then on up the stairs to the upper floor. After a moment’s hesitation, he took Falon’s hand and brought him to the ladder leading up.

  “Stay here,” Falon ordered. “Promise?”

  Ashre nodded. And Falon climbed up the ladder. Once on top of the temple, he ran to the edge and peered out over the desert.

  The band was close, nearly to the edge of the town. Moving in a group like a single creature. Jumbling and bouncing along, moving very quickly towards the ruins.

  Falon took out his short sword. He wished he felt comfortable with the heavy sword that Anarra had brought for him. It would do wonderful damage. But its weight made it too awkward, at least until he had had some practice with it.

  He kept his eyes on the invaders. Then, their movements were masked by the eastern edge of the ruins and they were gone.

  I’m blind now. No way to tell where they are ... where they might be.

  Then, he picked up a sound. Some horrible yell that traveled the desert air like the song of a moon swallow. Only this was a screeching, wrenching sound.

  His grip tightened on his sword.

  Then, more sounds, metal against metal, the clatter of swords. Distant ... disturbing.

  The clatter stopped, then started again, closer. More screeching, then the howl of a mrem, a sound that made him shiver.

  Behind him, the sky started to lighten, the dark black fading to a lush blue.

  I’ll be neatly outlined here, he thought.

  The light would work to the advantage of the attackers. He slid lower to the floor of the roof, and moved a bit back from the edge.

  He bumped into someone.

  “What!” he screamed, turning around like a mountain snake about to be skewered. He started to cut the air with his sword.

  “It’s me!” Ashre whispered.

  He pulled his blow back, just in time. “I nearly cut you in two. You shouldn’t have come up here. You should be—”

  “I sensed a change, something—”

  “A change? What do you mean?”

  “They’re not just ... out there,” he said, pointing east. “They’re all around. I thought you should—”

  And as if in confirmation of Ashre’s warning, they heard something from the opening. A slithering sound ... something large, dragging something, pushing the sands on the floor aside as it moved.

  Falon gulped, and he quickly signaled Ashre to be quiet.

  As if they knew he was here!

  It was coming up the ladder.

  He grabbed Ashre, and pulled him behind him, almost to the edge of the roof.

  Then he crawled forward, not wanting to have his head too far off the ground.

  Let me see them first.

  He waited, his lips and whiskers sucking the air close to the sandy roof. Breathing quietly, waiting until something popped out of the roof.

  At least I’ve got the light in front of me. They’ll stand out while Ashre and I should be nearly invisible;

  He waited, and waited, struggling to control his breathing.

  And it started to come out of the hole.

  A head, shiny-slick, with two bulbous eyes so alien Falon thought he moaned. It kept on climbing out of the hole, but he forced himself to stay still. He heard other sounds, close now, fighting.

  He hoped that his friends were doing well.

  Because he had absolutely no confidence in himself.

  It brought a hand out and grabbed at the roof, making a strange guttural grunting sound. Then another hand, the spiky, claw-like fingers clearly outlined against the deep blue sk
y.

  And Ashre struck!

  Ashre leaped over Falon, landing right in front of the liskash. Its tongue lolled around, and then it reached down for its own weapon.

  But it was too late, as Ashre plunged his dagger right into a spot just above the bulbous eye sockets. It screamed out, spitting gobs of slime into the air. Then Falon watched, amazed, as it slid down the ladder.

  “Move away,” Ashre said, helping Falon up. “There’s bound to be more.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  Ashre tugged at him, urging him away. “Once or twice—they came to Fahl ... recruiting. Usually the bands of mrem cut them into pieces.”

  “Good for them.”

  “And it always started with a quick jab to the head.”

  Falon stood up and walked with Ashre. “I’m impressed.”

  Then they both froze, as more sounds reached them.

  “They’re coming,” Ashre said. “Lots of them.”

  Falon held his sword tight. “What do you suggest?” Ashre looked left and right. “We could jump down to the street. Maybe get away. But we might be trapped there.” Then he looked back to the hole. Another liskash was climbing out, this time with its weapon held up. It lumbered up slowly. There’d be no surprise attack this time. “Or we could make a stand here.”

  With incredible speed, the liskash seemed to flip itself through the hole and onto the roof ... then another appeared, and flipped itself onto a different spot.

  “Their tails ...” Ashre whispered. “They’re using their tails—I’ve never seen that.”

  Then another, and another, until there were four of them, standing before the rising sun, ready to kill.

  FALON LET the liskash make the first move.

  Except they moved together, closing in on him and Ashre, their tails swirling ominously back and forth.

  “I’ve had better mornings, Ashre. But I’m glad this isn’t bothering you.”

  But the kit seemed to have lost some of his incredible strength. He leaned against Falon, shaking.

  “Only four of them, Ash ... no problem.”

  The liskash kept coming, cautious, almost uncomfortable.

  And Falon flashed on the, reason why.

  It was getting light out. These monsters were thought to dislike daylight. If he could hold out, he might be able to use that.

  Then the one to his left made a charging jab at him. The blow was easily dodged, and the liskash almost tipped over the edge.

  Falon checked that the others were holding their positions, and then he swung around, digging his blade into the broad back of their first attacker. It bellowed and screamed, reaching behind it to pull out the blade.

  But Falon removed it suddenly, knowing that this would cause the others to move.

  They seemed to skip closer, their blades crisscrossing the air, their tongues looking ready to taste him.

  “Move left!” he told Ashre. And he jabbed his small sword at two of the liskash’s weapons.

  Too small! he thought. He needed a bigger weapon against them, something with reach and weight.’

  One of them tried to skip up quickly and take a swing at Ashre, but Falon jerked the kit to the side, and then jabbed at the liskash, cutting it right in its glistening broad midsection.

  Another one dared jump closer, and Falon barely brought his blade around in time to slash upward, as hard as he could, to stop it.

  Then all three of them crowded closer.

  And Falon knew, as he dodged their blows, that it was all over.

  “If you can—” Falon said between blows to his left and right, “get yourself—out of—here—do it!”

  Then one of the liskash’s blades slipped down, alongside Falon’s sword, and then in, cutting Falon’s leg. He moaned, feeling his blood begin to splatter onto the roof.

  “Get out, Ash!” he screamed.

  And he didn’t know whether it was because the kit couldn’t leave, or wouldn’t, but Ashre’s response was to make a quick poke at the liskash as it pulled its blade from Falon’s leg.

  Then they stood there, back against back, chopping at the unequal blades of the liskash, trying to keep the creatures away, as they inexorably came closer and closer.

  Not a bad way to die, Falon thought. If only he knew what was in that book that made it so valuable.

  His arm grew tired, as it smashed two blows away at a time. Not long now, he thought.

  And then—someone else was there.

  “Anarra!” he called out. She held her heavy sword in her hand like a great warrior. “Thank the All-Mother. Here, quickly—help—”

  The words froze in his throat. She stood there, just stood there.

  Another blow hit him, this time in his chest. A surface cut—painful, but not deadly. Ashre called out, a whimper that snapped him out of his horror-struck reverie.

  “Ash ... careful ...”

  One liskash came so close that Falon smelled its breath, a rich and sour smell. He brought his sword up right to the soft scaly skin under its large jaw, It opened its mouth and spit at him, a filmy mixture of blood and spit.

  She stood there! Her sword by her side. Stood, and watched.

  It was Anarra. She had to be the assassin!

  She was the renegade in league with the Eastern Lords.

  He thought he saw her smile.

  Ashre tumbled backwards, slipping on the pool of blood that formed near them.

  “Get up, Ash, get up!”

  But why should he ... to let them hack at them some more? No. Better to let him end it, quickly ... with no more struggle.

  Then someone was there, next to Anarra, pushing past her, hacking with his blade, left, right, left, right, until the liskash could do nothing but turn around to meet this new enemy.

  And Falon took advantage of the target they gave him, slicing down on their backs, digging into their scaly humps over and over, cursing to himself, begging to have the strength to last to see them dead. Even Ashre was on his feet again, stabbing at the liskash.

  It was Sirrom, and now the battle came to a quick end. The liskash were quickly outflanked and killed, gone all clumsy now that they were the ones surrounded.

  “Anarra!” Falon yelled, watching Anarra attack Sirrom as the farmer lowered his sword.

  “I’m ahead of you,” Sirrom whispered, smoothly swinging his sword around like a great scythe. He sliced Anarra like a stalk of krarl grass.

  Her face caught the first bit of morning light. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

  It was a sight that made Falon feel very happy indeed, before he collapsed onto all the dead liskash.

  •

  His wounds bandaged, his pack now being carried by Sirrom, Falon trudged to keep up with the besieged party.

  It was Taline who said that they had to get out, leave Gfaar, and fast.

  “The last thing we want to do is cross the desert at night.”

  Sirrom agreed, though he seemed more concerned with reinforcements from the East.

  Nobody said anything about Anarra, and Falon figured that Taline assumed she fell in the battle.

  Every step was painful, trying to dig into the sand, pulling at his wounds. All the time, thinking, not with any joy, it could have been worse.

  Apparently he and Ashre had fought all the liskash. Somehow, the renegade mrem tied up Taline and Sirrom, while Anarra led the liskash right to him. And once again, he was left with that burning question: Why me?

  The pace slowed not a bit, as the sun burned down on them. They certainly weren’t overly concerned about him. Ashre, though, was being given a grand ride atop Sirrom’s shoulders. Despite his small wound, he seemed chipper.

  Finally, when Gfaar was lost to the hazy yellow sun behind them, Falon felt he had to rest.

  “I ...
need to stop,” he called out. Taline turned first, looking none too pleased. Then Sirrom, holding Ashre aloft and looking like a monster with two bodies. He too frowned, but then came back to Falon.

  “Pain?”

  “You could say that. I just need a bit of rest. ... Sirrom reached up and slid Ashre off his broad shoulders and down to the sand. “Rest then, and I’ll walk alongside you.”

  Yes, Falon thought, I could use a good arm right about now.

  “And I’ll walk a bit. I’m not really hurt at all!” Ashre said.

  As if to prove the point, he ran across the sand, making curves and circles, laughing, wonderfully, before sliding, panting into the sand.

  Falon sat down, and took a few blessed gulps of water, letting it trickle over his lips, down his chin, wetting his furry chest. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

  Sirrom reached down and gently pulled him up. He locked arms with him, easily, naturally, and Falon felt like he was leaning against a stone wall. Taline had started moving again, a rejuvenated Ashre walking happily by her side.

  “Better?” Sirrom asked.

  “Much. I think if it were up to Taline she’d leave me here for the weevils.”

  Sirrom arched his thick eyebrows. “Don’t mind her. She’s just concerned. She’s afraid for Tizare, and for her father. She’s just afraid that last night’s raid is the start of a major campaign.”

  “I don’t think it’s her father who’s in danger.”

  They were climbing down an enormous dune, almost the equal of the rolling mountains of Falon’s homeland. Except that his every step produced horrible pain. But, with Sirrom’s help, at least he wasn’t slipping.

  “I think you’re right there, Falon.”

  “You do?” Falon said, turning to him., “What do you mean?”

  Sirrom looked ahead, as if checking to see if Taline could hear. Then he turned his dark eyes on Falon.

  “They came for you ... and almost got you.”

  “Right, exactly—but why?”

  Sirrom laughed, causing Ashre to turn around, a puzzled look on his face. “Damned to the demons if I know, Falon. I thought you were just another stupid highlander. Guess I was wrong.”