Kaavl Conspiracy, page 42
“…here?”
“Yes. At first light we will have a clear view as they cross. We will catch them then.”
Mentàll’s voice caused a shiver to ripple down her spine. He was a cruel, dangerous, cunning man. Could she and Behran outwit him?
“Dehriens,” she whispered. “They’ll track us at first light.”
“We’d better start now, then, before they can see us.”
“What about the wild beasts?”
“Our lives won’t be worth more if Mentàll catches us.”
Methusal shivered, but knew he was right. Their luck had run out. This time Mentàll wouldn’t hesitate kill her, if he caught her. In that light, the decision to run now didn’t seem so foolhardy.
“How do we get down?” she breathed.
“Follow me.” Behran swiftly rose to his feet. He must have been mapping out a plan of escape while they had waited on the ledge, for he moved with confidence. Trustingly, she followed, forcing herself to relax and concentrate fully. It was a long way down. One foot slip, and she’d be dead.
The ledge narrowed to a handbreadth just when the moon swam behind another thick cloud. Methusal halted and pressed herself against the hard, angular rocks jutting from the cliff. Her heart bumped hard and she closed her eyes, refusing to look down—not that she could see much in the dark, anyway. To her right, Behran’s breaths sounded calm and even.
As soon as the moon peeked out again, they continued. The ledge tapered to nothingness, and Behran carefully led the climb down the craggy bluff. Thankfully, hand and footholds were plentiful. Only once did Methusal lose her footing and hang, swinging by her fingertips. A stifled scream tore from her lips.
“Move your right foot to the left.” Behran’s voice came, calm and reassuring. “Now up a bit. There, you’ve got it.”
Methusal’s heart pounded so wildly that she felt like it might explode from her chest.
Left foot now secure as well, she took time to wipe her damp palms, one by one, against her tunic. Then she continued her descent, trying to ignore the tremors rippling through her. She had almost fallen to her death.
Right hand…left hand…right foot…left foot…right hand…
“You’re almost down.” Encouraging words, and then Behran’s strong hands lifted her down the remaining drop.
Boulders lay jumbled before them now and gently sloped downward to the plain floor. Behran led the way, scrambling over the smaller rocks and around the larger ones. Methusal intensified her kaavl and stepped carefully after him. She couldn’t allow anymore slips in foot or concentration—a twisted ankle now would mean certain death. She sent an apprehensive glance at the eastern horizon. A faint yellow glow backlit the eastern Rolban Mountains where it curved north to meet the Tarst Range.
No sound of pursuit—or wild beasts—so far. Her feet touched the dry, cracked surface of the plain. If they hurried, they could reach Rolban in a little over an hour.
She walked more rapidly to match Behran’s long strides. The waning moon bathed the tagma bushes in cool green light. A small beast skittered under the bushes ahead. The plain was still, as if the wind held its breath, watching and waiting to see what fate would befall them. The sun slowly rose, lightening the sky with pale, rosy gold and pink fingers.
It seemed too quiet. Too still. Methusal’s flesh crept, but her straining ears heard nothing. Only the faint hiss of a breeze to the west, softly rustling the dry leaves…
Instinct made her catch at Behran’s sleeve, catapulting them both into a frantic, foot pounding sprint. Those weren’t leaves. The scratch of claws flying over the earth filled her ears. She willed her legs to work harder to keep up with Behran. The hot, snarling breath of the beasts seemed to reach out and envelop her very soul.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sixthday
FEET BARELY TOUCHING the ground, Behran and Methusal flew desperately over its hard surface. The sky was now lightening rapidly, pushing the night shadows from the land. It was a race against time. The beasts’ sensitive eyes could not bear the bright sunlight. Soon they would have to give up the chase. But when? When would they give up the hunt?
Methusal gasped, and slowed slightly when a stitch seized her side. The scratch of tens of razor sharp claws ripped over the earth. They were almost upon her….
Terror urged a burst of speed from her flying legs, and her mind rapidly assimilated the terrain before her. A stumble now would mean an agonizing death, ripped to shreds by the long, sharp fangs of the wild beasts.
“They’re gone.” Ahead of her, Behran slowed, panting. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the furry backs of the beasts as they fled for the gloomy protection of their rocky caves. A few howled, as if in pain.
Her steps slowed to a fast walk and she doubled over, gasping. Pain, like a hot fire stick, seared into her side.
“You okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak. Her well-conditioned lungs wheezed, not used to sprinting all out so far, or for so long. Finally, with a wince she straightened. “I thought…I thought we weren’t going to make it.” Her back prickled. The threat of goring, shredding claws still felt like an itch down her spine.
Behran unexpectedly caught her hand and gently squeezed it. “But we did.” His gaze held hers for a steady, reassuring moment. Reluctantly, it seemed, he released her hand.
A little of the fear melted away. Unexplained happiness warmed Methusal’s soul.
They were almost home now. Only a half an hour remained.
Moments later Behran asked, “Do you hear anything?”
Methusal listened. The relief of escaping from the wild beasts had almost made her forget about Mentàll.
Nothing.
They were still too far away to hear without using her kaavl gift of carrying. She first directed her attention back to the rocky cliff, and then practiced a carry by placing the center focal point of her hearing on that spot. It was as if she actually she stood on the rocky cliff and heard everything just as clearly as if she stood there right at this moment.
Ahh, there they were. They’d just jumped down from the final boulder onto the plain. Moccasins scratched over the soil. They were running. Soon they would be within Methusal’s normal range.
“They’re coming fast. Six of them,” she reported, and the two sprang back into a hard sprint. But pain again seared Methusal’s side. Gasping, she jogged to a halt. Behran checked his pace.
“Go on,” she urged. “I’ll trick them off course. Then I’ll make a run for it when this pain lets up.”
“No. I won’t leave you alone.”
“Rolban has to be warned. That’s the most important thing right now. I’ll be okay. Promise.”
“Mentàll is Kaavl Master! No, I won’t…”
“Hurry!” She shoved him as the sounds of their pursuers filled her ears. “We’re out of time!”
Behran gave her one last agonized look, and then took off at a dead run, leaving her quickly behind. Limping in his footsteps, Methusal hastily formed a plan. A game, actually. A kaavl game—except she competed against six Dehrien opponents, one of whom was Kaavl Master. No time to capture. Only evade.
Walking as fast as she could, Methusal cut west, deliberately leaving a faint trail behind her. Next, she cut north for a time, and then south and west again. Faint, scuffling noises tickled her sensitive ears.
Mentàll’s contemptuous voice said, “They’re running scared. You two go north and east, you two west. You’ll go south with me. Regardless, we’ll meet at the Rolbani gate in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?”
It was clear to Methusal that only Mentàll and one Dehrien were tracking her now.
She lunged into a sprint for Rolban, but pain seared her abdomen again. She gasped, frustrated. She had to continue to escape capture for a few more minutes.
Deliberately, she left a faint trail in the hard ground beneath her moccasins. A tagma root lay exposed several lengths ahead. She quickly scooped up a handful of loose stones and leaped lightly and with perfect balance onto the narrow, gnarled root. Carefully thrown rocks stirred the dust, continuing her old path. Hopefully it would mislead the Dehriens.
Toes clutching the wood through the new, soft moccasins, Methusal ran to the other end of the exposed root and hopped onto another one. No foot marks betrayed five lengths of her path now. She leaped onto a flat rock, and then onto a smaller, rounded one. There her options ran out, and she set off again for Rolban, her feet flying over the dusty earth. The pain in her side had eased. Only another minute of rest and she should be able to sprint for home.
Her ears strained to hear her foes. One followed her latest diversion, but the other Dehrien was hot on her trail. Probably Mentàll. He was chasing her, just like in her dream. Was her dream a prophecy? Had it predicted what was happening now?
But hadn’t the Prophet said it applied to a future time?
It soon became clear he wasn’t fooled by her feeble diversionary tactics. Within a minute, Mentàll would reach her. Panic churned in Methusal’s heart, but she forced herself to remain calm.
Another tagma root poked up, stretching south and left, but this time she ignored it. Several small stones formed a path to a tall, bushy tagma plant two lengths to the right. If she jumped from stone to stone, careful not to let them skid, she could make it.
Feet moving as swift as thought, Methusal put the plan into action and hopped, landing on the pads of her toes. So far so good….
Mentàll was almost upon her.
She ducked behind the prickly, leafy bush at the last possible second and crouched, her breaths silent, as Mentàll jogged into view.
He stopped, barely a length from her bush, and carefully glanced about. First at the tagma root, and then at the stones beneath his feet. He stood very still, as if listening.
Frozen, hardly daring to breathe, Methusal waited, formulating a plan of escape. Then she heard the faint slither of a whip beast come from the direction of the root. Mentàll heard it too, for his blond head quickly swiveled that way. He took one hesitant step that way, and then another. Quickening his stride, the Dehrien trotted after the false lead.
Methusal leaped to her feet and sprinted for Rolban. The pain was gone now. If she was lucky, she had a few seconds before Mentàll realized his mistake.
Her mountain home drew closer and closer, but she still had to round the southern end, because the gate to the community faced south. That was when she would be most vulnerable, because there was little vegetation to use for cover at the base of the mountain.
Rounding the corner, she heard two systems of movement sprinting up behind her. One minute until they caught her. The memory of Mentàll’s razor sharp knife urged her tired legs to pump faster. She could see the wide open gate now. Only a few more seconds…
Something caught at her arm and jerked her violently sideways, and then down to her knees. Quicker than thought, someone dragged her behind a huge boulder. A firm hand pressed against her mouth, cutting off her frightened cry. “Sshhhh!” Methusal struggled to see her captor.
Behran! He held a finger to his lips and cautiously peered around the side of the boulder. He sprang to his feet. “Come on!”
Confused, Methusal staggered after him up a narrow path that twisted up the southern side of the steep mountain. The path was hidden by massive boulders. Crouching low, she sprinted from boulder to boulder.
Near the top he ducked into a shallow cave. She blinked to adjust to the gloomy shadows.
“Thusa!” A little body hurtled forward and hugged her fiercely. “I thought Mentàll was going to get you!” Aali’s face was dirty and tear streaked. When her cousin pulled back she clutched Behran’s hand, as if afraid to let it go.
“What’s going on?” Fear made Methusal’s words sharp.
“It’s awful!” More tears streaked her cheeks.
“What is?”
“If only I hadn’t gone sneaking, like Father said!” She choked on a tremendous sob. Terror gripped Methusal. Something was terribly wrong.
“Come sit down.” Behran took charge, and gently led Aali to the back of the cave, where the three squatted. “The delegation took Rolban hostage late last night.” His voice was quiet.
“What? But why didn’t they wait for Ment…”
“It’s all my fault!” Aali wept. “Father told me to stay in my room and I wouldn’t. I didn’t trust those merchant people. So when Father fell asleep, I snuck down the hall to the guest chambers and listened outside one of the doors. I thought for sure it was probably too late and they were sleeping. But they weren’t. And I didn’t think…” More sobs, and a wet sniffle. “I didn’t think I’d hear something incriminating!”
“What did you hear?” Methusal fought to keep her voice as calm and level as Behran’s.
“A loud voice—it sounded familiar, but I don’t know who it was, because other people were talking at the same time. Anyway, he insisted they should take over Rolban right now. Now was the time, he said, while everyone was sleeping. He said Mentàll would be glad, because then he wouldn’t have to do the messy work. The man said he hated us Rolbanis. That we were horrid and prideful and deserved to be put in our place.”
More gulps. “Then another voice argued that they had to wait, because those were Mentàll’s instructions, and they’d be foolish to cross him. He said Mentàll wanted a peaceful, legal takeover. Then a mean looking, dark-haired man threw open the door and saw me!” With a heavy, shaky breath she whispered, “I think it was Jascr. He won the Bi-level in Dehre.”
“Then what?”
“He grabbed me and put his hands over my eyes and mouth and dragged me into the room. He wanted to kill me, but the others wouldn’t let him. He said the first man was right. They had to take over Rolban right now. Because if I went missing or told anyone, their whole plan would be ripped. The others agreed. So they tied me up, threw me in a closet, and jammed it shut. I heard their plan. They said they’d go from compartment to compartment and break in and tie up the Rolbanis. It would be easy while everyone was sleeping.”
“And we don’t have locks to keep anyone out,” Methusal interjected grimly.
“Yes, they said they’d capture every single Rolbani, or kill us, if necessary.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Then they rampaged out.”
“So they took over Rolban while you were in the closet?” Methusal blinked rapidly, trying to hold back horrified, welling tears. What had happened to her parents and her sister?
“I finally got out, but it was too late. They had a bunch of people corralled in the dining hall at knife point—actually most had swords. The Rolbanis were gagged and their hands were tied, but their feet were tied loose enough so they could shuffle a little. I knew a secret passageway outside, so I snuck out and hid outside all night. Luckily, I stopped Behran before he ran in and got captured.”
“Mentàll!” Methusal suddenly turned to Behran. “Do you think he’ll find us up here?”
“Listen.”
And she would have remembered that, too, if she had been thinking clearly. But Methusal heard no footsteps climbing up the mountain. “Nothing,” she reported. “So he must be inside already.”
“Probably,” Behran agreed. “But he’ll search for us soon, so we’d better come up with some ideas, and fast.”
“A plan!” Aali looked up. Her eyes brightened through the tears. “Can we rescue Rolban?”
“We have to try,” he said grimly. “We’re the only ones left.”
“Except for Kitran, Lina, and Retra.”
“It’ll be a while before they get here. Have they captured everyone?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve heard fighting.”
“So hopefully it’s still chaos inside. We need to move now.”
“What can we do?” How could they possibly rescue Rolban from twenty warriors, plus Mentàll, plus five kaavl competitors—a total of twenty-six Dehriens to their three? Of course, hopefully some Rolbanis were still free, but how many?
“We need to free the people in the dining hall,” Behran said.
“But how would we get by the Dehriens and untie them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a few are free. We have to try. That would help even out the odds. Then we can hunt down the other Dehriens in the halls, one by one.”
Methusal turned to Aalicaa. “You said you know a secret passageway to get in. Where does it come out inside? Is it anywhere near the dining hall?”
“Yes. Just down the teaching hallway a bit—it comes out in the first classroom. It’s hidden in a closet behind a loose board.”
“Here’s an idea,” Behran said. “We’ll go hide in Aali’s passageway now. It’s not safe here. Mentàll’s sure to send out a search party for us soon. While we’re inside you can listen, Thusa, and tell us what’s going on in Rolban. We’ll take it from there.”
Aali sprang to her feet. “We’ll need weapons, Behran. The Dehriens have long, wicked looking, skinny knives.”
“That they hide in their breeches,” Methusal finished grimly. But Aali paid no attention to her comment, and scrabbled about outside, gathering up fistfuls of rocks.
“We can use these!” she shrilled.
“That’s probably the best we can do,” Behran agreed. The three scooped up what they could, and tucked them into their pockets, tunics, and in Methusal’s pack, and then Aalicaa led them outside and up a short distance to the sheer face of a cliff. A length overhead, balanced on a narrow stone ledge, was a tall, flat rock. The top edge of the tilted rock rested against the cliff.
“It’s behind that rock. Be careful going up, ’cause there aren’t many holds,” Aali explained, stepping nimbly ahead of them.
The other two watched her climb first, and then carefully followed. The fingerbreadth holds were almost invisible to the eye. Methusal followed first, and clung desperately to the smooth, rocky bits, determined not to slip like she had on the Tarst Range.
Quickly, so she couldn’t dwell on her fear, and before her hands became slick with nervous perspiration, she stepped up once, twice, and pulled herself onto the ledge and behind the tilted rock. The rock concealed a small black opening in the cliff. Gingerly, she patted her hand inside it. Satisfied it didn’t drop off immediately inside, she crawled in.
