Lakhoni (31 page)

The
noise of the approaching party increased and Lakhoni fought to keep his gaze
down as they passed directly in front of him. Suddenly, the rhythm of the
horses broke and dissipated into random thumps—no more than ten feet away from
him. Then silence, save for the snorting of horses and whining of dogs.

“Ah,”
came a voice that was so familiar Lakhoni almost glanced up in spite of
himself. It sounded like his father! “My dogs.”

Nobody
moved or said anything. Lakhoni could feel the surprise and anxiety emanating
from the boys behind him.

“And
how are they?”

Silence
followed the question. All Lakhoni saw were restless hooves and booted feet.
Surely Cho would say something.

“Answer
the king, curs!” A gloved hand smashed into the back of Lakhoni’s head. One of
the dogs he held growled, the rumble easily felt under Lakhoni’s hand.
Resisting the urge to rub away the sudden pain, he looked up.

The
king’s stare hit him with nearly physical force. Lakhoni swallowed, unable to
tear his eyes away. He knew that face. “I asked how my dogs fared.” The
familiar voice was the king! His expression tight, with strangely wet-looking
skin glinting off the sun that was nearly gone behind the mountains, the king
stared Lakhoni down.

Lakhoni
wondered why the other boys were not answering. “Um.” He swallowed. “They’re
fine?”

The
king’s face tightened. “Is that all?”

Pain
blossomed in the back of his head again as the soldier smacked him. “Answer the
king, cur!” The dog growled again. Lakhoni hoped the animal wouldn’t attack,
trying to defend him. That would not help matters.

Why
were they doing this to him and not bothering the other boys? Lakhoni fought
his anger down, forcing himself to look at the king again. “They’re learning,
sir.”

“Good,”
the king said. “I expect them to be ready to join me in the hunt soon.”

Lakhoni
nodded, resisting the urge to look around and see what the other boys were
doing.

The
king gestured to the soldier standing next to Lakhoni. Lakhoni tightened up,
preparing for another blow. It didn’t come. The hollow, heavy noise of the
horses trotting filled the air again.

Making
sure all of the soldiers were gone, Lakhoni spun, releasing the dogs. “Why
didn’t you answer? How am I supposed to know what to say?”

Balon
and Falon’s smirks became loud laughter as the two exchanged a look. Cho
grinned too. “You did fine.”

Lakhoni
rubbed the back of his head. “Fine. I did fine.” He moved to catch up with the
dogs that were already crossing the plaza toward the compound. A thought came
to him, so he slowed to allow the others to get nearer.

Falon
came into view on his right as dogs dashed past, yelping and playful again.

“Those
soldiers,” Lakhoni said. “The ones on the horses with the fancy sashes? Who
were they?”

“Honor
guard,” Falon said, whistling to try to get the dogs’ attention. Balon passed
on the right, jogging. “Special soldiers. Probably the best in the world.”

“Oh,”
Lakhoni said. “What’s an honor guard?”

“The
king’s personal soldiers. They’re with him all the time.”

Disappointment
struck hard, although Lakhoni told himself he should have known the king would
have special protectors. The next question came before he could stop himself.
“And his face?”

Falon
cast a glance around before answering. “They say it’s the light of the Fathers.
A gift for the ruler of the true people.” Falon’s voice had dropped into a somewhat
reverent tone.

A
gift? Light of the Fathers?
He
tried to think of something to say as silence filled the space between him and
Falon.
It looked like he was covered in oil.
“Shiny,” he said.
And I
must be mistaken. Why would the king look like my father?
Lakhoni decided
it must have been the hair—his father had worn his hair long also.

“Hurry
up, toads!” Cho yelled from the gate. Balon had gone through with the first of
the dogs.

Lakhoni
and Falon broke into a jog, gathering the last few dogs and herding them
through the gate. They picked up speed to stay with the dogs.

As
they entered, Lakhoni took a closer look around him. Just through the entryway
was a large courtyard that stretched as wide as the compound. Lakhoni guessed
it was at least a hundred paces wide. The path through the compound gate led to
the main entrance of the temple. The temple had four sides. This front side was
unique in that it had a large entrance at the ground level. On either side of
the entrance began a line of huge stone blocks, each at least ten feet long,
running from the ground all the way up the sloping wall to the top of the
temple, as if a giant had wanted steps on the outside of his house.

The
blocks were so massive that the front entrance to the temple was almost a
tunnel, with shadows growing thick and dark before a person even made it into
the temple proper.

Lakhoni
slapped a dog’s hindquarters to urge it along as they trotted through an alley
formed by the high wall of the first level of the king’s temple on the right
and the compound wall on the left. They started to pass in front of a long,
low, stone building built off the wall of the compound which made the alley
more narrow and caused them to bunch up tighter.

Noticing
the huge stones that made up the visible wall of the actual temple, Lakhoni
marveled. “How did they build this?”

Falon
answered. “They say they had the power of the First Fathers.”

Briefly,
Lakhoni wondered if this power of the First Fathers was like what he had seen
at the brick fields: round logs making the shifting of heavy loads easier and
plenty of men to do the work.
But maybe they really
did
have some
kind of power helping them.

Balon
had already reached the end of the temple and had started to herd the dogs into
their pen.

“And
what’s in this building?” Lakhoni asked, indicating the long building they were
leaving behind as the alley grew wider.

“That’s
the slave barracks.”

Lakhoni
nearly fell into the dirt.

Alronna.

Silence
reigned but for the sound of steady breathing and the faint noise of dogs
whimpering in their sleep. Heart beating wildly, Lakhoni picked his way across
the room, carefully stepping over the other dog-boys. He gently eased the door
open, peering out, hoping nobody was around.

No
movement. The stars and quarter-moon provided plenty of light for him to see
that the area immediately around the servant and dog quarters was empty. He
slipped out, praying that Alronna would be there and that he could find her
without raising any alarms. Three weeks of waiting for an opportunity to
explore the slave barracks had shown him that he needed to make his own
opportunity.

As
barbaric as the Separated were, Lakhoni had to mentally thank them as he melted
into the path the shadows provided. He focused solely on his movements now,
exerting absolute control over his body. He made no sound; his actions careful
and controlled. He felt and heard the movement behind his left shoulder at the
same time. Lowering smoothly into a crouch, he swiveled his head, his eyes
mostly closed so any light would not glimmer off of them. A soldier approached,
clearly on patrol with the bored and ritualistic way his gaze roamed the alley
between the temple and its wall.

Lakhoni
held still and imagined he was blending into the darkened stone of the wall.
The soldier trudged by, his long knife slapping gently against the back of his
right hip.

Lakhoni
rose, moving each muscle carefully and allowing his blood to flow smoothly
again. He saw no more patrolling soldiers. The compound was big enough that
there had to be more than one patrolling the grounds. Surely there were more
guards.

He
made it all the way to the slave barracks wall before he ran out of shadows.
The door was four strides away. But there were no shadows to keep him
invisible.

Confused
at the lack of guards, Lakhoni stepped out of the shadow. He just barely caught
the movement above him and melted back into the shadow, resisting the urge to
move quickly.

Now
he understood where the guards were. He hadn’t noticed before, but the temple
had several exterior levels. He’d seen the stair-like shape of the building
but, for some reason, he hadn’t realized that on three or four of those “steps”
people could move around outside the temple. He guessed that the balconies extended
all the way around the temple and that there had to be entrances to the
balconies from the building itself.

And
there were guards on each level. He counted four on this side of the first
balcony, with movement up higher indicating more guards on the others. He had
been lucky not to have been seen.
Thank you, Gimno
. Maybe lucky and
maybe well-trained.

He
stayed motionless for a long time, trying to detect a pattern to the movements
of the guards on the temple balconies. Two more soldiers passed right in front
of him, neither giving any indication that they had seen him.

Now.

Lakhoni
stepped smoothly around the corner, hugging the wall of the slave barracks. He
tried the door, expecting it to be somehow locked in order to keep the slaves
in the building. It swung freely and Lakhoni had to quickly stop it from moving
too far and getting attention.
How do they keep the slaves from running
away?
He wondered about this as he slipped into the building. Then he
thought of the guards patrolling the temple grounds and the soldiers stationed
at the gate. Maybe there was no need to secure the building; there was no way
for slaves to leave the temple grounds without being caught.

This
would make things difficult when it came time to get Alronna out. Lakhoni pushed
the thought away. First he had to find her.

He
closed the door, finding himself in a small entryway with doorways to his right
and left. On the other side of each doorway was a long, dark room with
prostrate forms on the ground. The sound of restless sleep filled the air.

She
had to be in here. Lakhoni’s heart hammered, his mouth dry. Everything he’d
learned told him Alronna was in here. But where? And how could he find her?
Despite the dark, he could see that the slaves slept on what looked like thin blankets,
with even thinner blankets covering them. How cold it must have been in this
room during the depths of winter! Fury at what his sister must have been going
through for these months infused him.

No,
he had to stay calm if he was going to find her.

He
began to pick his way among the sleeping figures. He didn’t see chains or
anything securing the slaves in place. The temple’s security must have been
enough.

There.
The curve of a face and an ear caught his attention. He approached, suddenly
realizing that all the slaves were female. From what he could see, they were
all young women. He easily understood why the slaves would all be young women,
and, for the most part, attractive. A red flame of fury built in his chest. If
Zyron had hurt Alronna . . .

This
one had fuzz covering her scalp. He looked closer. No, not his sister.

This
might take all night.

He
finished checking the room, disappointed. If she wasn’t in the room to the left
of the door, he would be back at the beginning. He would have to get into the
temple and see if she was there.

Lakhoni
stopped, ears detecting movement.

It
was nothing. Simply someone shifting in her sleep.

He
made his way to the room on the left and decided to start at the far end of the
room. He crept across the floor, staying against the wall where nobody slept.
Less light entered this room. What light there was filtered through large holes
and gaps in the ceiling. The ceiling on the other side must have been in better
repair.

He
scanned what he could see of the women’s faces. His throat tightened, mouth dry
and heart suddenly ceasing to beat.

Alronna.

She
was five feet away, her mouth slightly open as she slept. She had kept her
hair; it was longer now. Her face reminded him so completely of his mother’s
that Lakhoni had to grip the stone of the walls to not collapse under the
weight of grief.

He
slipped closer to her and lowered to a crouch. He held his breath, one hand
going to Alronna’s mouth and one to her shoulder.

She
started awake with a gasp and sudden jerk of her body. Her eyes darted wildly,
fear obvious even in the dark.

“Ronna,”
Lakhoni said, heart in his throat.

She
went completely still. In the filtered light of the stars, her eyes met his. He
took his hand from her mouth.

“Ronna,
it’s me.” Lakhoni wanted to grab her and flee the city now, leaving justice to
First Fathers. They could get away. He had to take her away from this place.

Her
whisper was harsh. “Khoni?” She wriggled carefully, turning over and facing
Lakhoni from her knees. “Lakhoni?”

“It’s
me. I’m here to—”

She
caught him in a tight embrace, squeezing him, gasping strained, quiet sobs.

He
held her tightly, tears threatening.
Finally
. The last months flashed
behind his closed eyelids. He had to fight to keep tears from spilling down his
cheeks.

After
a long minute, he helped her to her feet and guided her toward the door so they
could talk without waking anyone.

“Khoni,
how did you . . . How are you here? I thought you were dead!”
Alronna still held his arm, squeezing until it hurt.

Alronna’s
face held new, deep shadows under her eyes. He began to shake, his muscles
tight, his mind feeling like warm mud. Maybe he should forget the king, keep
Alronna close. Maybe he really should take her away and escape now. There had
to be a way out of the compound. Once they got out, nobody would know Alronna
had been a slave.

Alronna
threw her arms around him again, her cheek pressed up against his. The
familiarity of her touch made him feel like his chest was cracking open. Her
cheekbone was sharp, her bones too easily felt under his embrace. The crack in
his chest widened and he was suddenly gasping, trying to keep himself under
control and quiet.

He
buried his face in the coarse cloth of her filthy tunic and held his sister
close, the memories of carrying his mother and father to the funeral pyre
burning bright behind his clenched eyes. Tears, hot with fury, soaked into
Alronna’s shoulder.

Lakhoni
swam through the blinding relief at having found Alronna. He pushed through the
need to make the king—and this Shelu the other boys had mentioned—pay.

“Ronna,”
he said, something inside him feeling raw and good—and newly full—a chasm
filled. “We have to make a plan to get out.”

“How
did you find me?” Alronna asked.

“Doesn’t
matter.” Lakhoni cleared his throat and pushed her gently away so he could see
her face in the gloom. His hand brushed over something on the back of her
shoulder. It felt like raised flesh. He wanted to ask what they had done to
her. No time. “We have to get out. But I have to get the king first.”

“Get
the king?” Alronna squeezed his shoulder tightly. “What are you talking about?”

“And
Shelu. He did all of this.”

Her
arms tightened under his grip. When she had been taken months ago, she was
thirteen. Now, with the fear in her voice and her bones so close to her skin,
she was more like an old, scared woman.

“Shelu?
No,” Alronna said, voice barely loud enough to hear.

“He
did this,” Lakhoni said. “I found out.”

“No,
we just go. We have to go.” Her quiet voice broke.

“What?”
Lakhoni struggled to figure out why Alronna was behaving this way. “What—what
did he do to you?”

“He
won’t stop. He always asks and hurts me.” Now she was crying, her body still
tight with fear.

“Asks
what?” Lakhoni thought about what Balon had said about Shelu and the raiding
parties looking for something.

Alronna
still shook, her face now buried in Lakhoni’s chest. “He keeps talking about
the sword and Father.”

“The
sword?” Lakhoni racked his brain.
Father never had a sword.

“And
Father. He says he knows Father had it,” Alronna said. She straightened. With
his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness of the slave barracks, Lakhoni saw the
gauntness of her features. She looked so much like his mother, despite her
haggard appearance.

“But
that’s stupid,” Lakhoni said. A feeling of great injustice consumed him. Had
Alronna been taken, their village destroyed, his parents murdered all because
Shelu had made a mistake?

Alronna
squeezed Lakhoni’s hands. Her gaze burned into his. “I don’t think Father ever
had the sword.”

Confusion
filled him again. “What sword? Why do you keep saying ‘the sword?”

Now
Alronna stepped back slightly. A shadow of thought crossed her face. “You don’t
know?”

“Don’t
know what?” Why did everyone else know more than he did? Frustration boiled
over. “What is going on?”

“Mother
talked with me about—” She glanced around. The slaves still slept and no noise
from the outside filtered in. “She told me about the Guide.”

It
took Lakhoni a moment. When understanding hit, it struck like a load of roofing
tiles. Exhaustion warred with a fierce desire to scream at the universe and ask
why and how his family had been drawn into this.

Shelu
and the king were looking for something. Mother had told Alronna about the
Guide. The cavity under her bed.

Now
Shelu was interrogating Alronna about “the sword.”

The
Guide and the Sword of Nubal. It had to be. The two artifacts of the First
Fathers. The two items that would endow a king with the power to unite the people
of the First Fathers and rule them with the might of the Great Spirit. And
somehow, his mother had been hiding the Guide under her bed.

And
now Shelu thought Alronna knew about the Sword of Nubal too.

How
had his mother ended up with the Guide?

And
why did Shelu think that Lakhoni’s family had the—

In
the back of his mind, he saw Alronna searching his face, but he suddenly
remembered his father’s talk of being stuck in a mountain cave for most of a
day while grandfather tried to free him. His father had said several times that
he had lost something of great value in that cave on that day.

The
Sword of Nubal. There was no other explanation.

Somehow,
his family had become the guardians of the two items that would give any man
power to rule the people of Zyron as well as the Usurpers.

“Ronna,”
Lakhoni whispered, gripping her shoulders tightly. “We have to get out of
here.”

“Khoni?”
Understanding dawned on her face. “You know? The sword?”

“Yes.”

“Why
did Mother and Father—”

“No.”
Lakhoni squeezed her shoulders. “No time. I have to go now, but I’ll be back
with a plan. We’ll leave then.”