The Keys to Paradise, page 33
‘Giles,’ Red Mane said slowly, ‘I think I will send one of my people out to see if he is still in the area. No one rides for pleasure in this desert. He might be a minion of the Skeleton Lord.’
Giles agreed that it would be a good idea to find this mysterious stranger, but ventured no opinion on the man’s allegiance. He doubted the Skeleton Lord and this man in black shared similar goals – or if they did, they each wanted the reward for himself.
But what was the reward? The key to the Gate of Paradise? Giles decided to ponder this at greater length later. Red Mane withdrew into his own thoughts, trying to determine who would be the best of the beasts for the job. He went to chat with a younger beast, Torn Ear. The youngster nodded, rose and disappeared into the night.
Red Mane returned to his place by the fire. ‘It is done.’ he said simply. Giles asked Djinn to tell them more.
‘When the Skeleton Lord came to power in Shahal, he drove out the beasts.’ Djinn looked at Red Mane. ‘They hounded you out of the city like beaten curs, is that not right?’ The beast silently agreed with this shameful appraisal.
‘I scouted for the next caravan to call at Shahal. We didn’t know the Skeleton Lord had taken over. His soldiers surprised the caravan and captured us. For a time we were kept together, but gradually one after another of us disappeared. I’m not sure what happened to them. Possibly other experiments..’
‘Is this where the skeleton men come from?’ Petia asked.
‘Yes, I’m certain that they are the Skeleton Lord’s most successful experiment. Once he found that he could turn the men into walking skeletons, he concentrated on that. They became his servants, his army, all he needed for his conquests. Several more caravans were captured. Then the caravans stopped using that route. The dhouti must have decided that it was no longer safe to take the Track of Fourteen. No one has crossed it for years. I think. But years have no meaning to me anymore.’ Djinn gusted a weighty sigh.
‘What was his object?’ Giles asked. ‘What is he after?’
‘Power. He wants to extend his power across the desert, then to the cities, Kasha in the north and Kuilla in the south. Already he controls the Harifim.’
Giles’ eyes lit up. ‘That explains much. It explains their religion, their belief in the key. And I think it helps to confirm my belief that the key we seek is at Shahal.’
‘Ah,’ said the djinn, ‘the key is important to you. I thought so!’
‘What sort of force does he have? What can you tell us about his skeleton men?’ Giles still distrusted the djinn and warily avoided discussing the key.
‘I do not know. In the desert it is said that the original skeleton men captured many Harifim and they, in turn, became skeleton men. It continues. So I do not know how many there are. Very many, to be sure, And there may be other humans who were not transformed.’
‘Could we expect any help from those inside?’ Keja asked.
Djinn thought on it. ‘I cannot tell. I haven’t been inside for a long time. There is so little for one such as I to do within the walls of Shahal. The Skeleton Lord changed me into a djinn for his own entertainment. It took me a long time to figure out that I could become invisible. I wonder if real djinn come into existence knowing all these things or if they have to be taught? A manual would have been most helpful to me. When I found out how to do the invisibility, I simply left Shahal to live by myself in the desert. A lonely, tiresome existence.’
‘I can see why,’ grumbled Keja, ‘if you have only yourself to listen to.’
‘The Skeleton Lord could not see me any better than you can.’
‘So you don’t know if the skeleton men are unhappy with their lot?’ Giles asked.
‘I don’t think they have any feelings. I was bitterly unhappy and expect them to be, also. If they have any brain left to think with, that is. Perhaps they don’t,’ Djinn mused. ‘My own brain became addled for quite some time. Perhaps they no longer think, only obey.’
‘I think the Lord is quite mad. I think he was mad when he came to Shahal. The silence of the desert has been known to touch men like that, though as a human I rather enjoyed it. Away from the grind of big cities.’
To this Giles had nothing to reply.
* * *
The next morning Torn Ear appeared, near exhaustion having run a long distance. Red Mane brought him to Giles and the others so he would not have to repeat his story.
‘The stranger in black travels with desert tribesmen not of the Harifim. He is not their captive. I tried to approach and spy on them, but they discovered me and chased me.’
‘What?’ Red Mane stormed. ‘They will come here.’
‘No,’ Torn Ear said. ‘I led them in a different direction. I may not have your immense experience, ancient one, but I am not stupid.’
‘Don’t let your mouth run away with you,’ Red Mane warned. He turned and showed the youngling his hindquarters. When Red Mane’s anger subsided, he asked, ‘Where did you last see them?’
‘They were heading west. I led them that way, toward the oasis at Dorassa. Then I went north into the rocks and doubled back, leaving no trail.’
‘Well done.’ Red Mane turned to Giles. ‘What do we do now?’
Djinn spoke up. ‘We are between the Track and the tribesmen. I do not think it wise to stay here much longer.’
‘I suppose you are right. It has been so pleasant here that it is hard to move on.’ Leaving the tiny pool of water seemed like abandoning an old friend.
‘Travel at night,’ Djinn said. ‘There is enough light to see by, and I can guide you. It will be safer.’ Giles looked skeptically at Djinn, but the spirit appeared sincere. Petia shrugged, indicating she received no contrary indications from the djinn, but who could say what a disembodied spirit’s emotions were like? Still, Giles had little choice but to risk following Djinn.
They waited until dark, listening to the silence of the desert and wondering where – and what – the black stranger might be. When they finally left the oasis, Giles had decided they faced two enemies: the Skeleton Lord and this man in black.
They travelled a score of miles through the night. The days of rest had refreshed them. By morning, however, they felt the effort of the night’s travel and sighed with relief when Giles called a halt.
Djinn scouted for a place that would keep them out of the sun for most of the day.
‘What are we going to do when we reach Shahal?’ Petia asked, when they had settled down. ‘How are we going to get inside?’
‘We can’t attack,’ Keja said. ‘That’s obvious. Maybe there are some unguarded entrances, some of the entrances the beasts have spoken of. No lord guards every entrance, at least not so a clever thief cannot find a way inside.’
‘Don’t be surprised if Shahal is well patrolled,’ Giles said. ‘We’ll scout carefully when we get there. Maybe that will give us some ideas.’
* * *
The early dawn found them in a valley shaped like a shallow bowl. The sun rose and they shaded their eyes to look across the landscape. Shahal, carved centuries before from solid rock, rose from the plain, immense and silent in the predawn. Giles found himself speechless, not expecting this. He had built an image of a city spread out across the plain. What else had he assumed wrongly?
A tower of rock rose vertically from the desert floor. Many levels were evident from the balconies outlined by the morning light.
‘It’s huge,’ Petia sighed. ‘If it does hold the key, how will we ever locate it?’
‘The first step is to get in. One thing at a time,’ Giles said.
Red Mane came up to his side. ‘We had better find some place to hide during the day. We can be seen too easily here in the middle of the plain, and the skeleton men patrol ceaselessly.’
‘You’re right.’ Giles looked toward the sides of the valley, several miles away. ‘Do you have any ideas of the best place to conceal ourselves?’
‘There is a small cave along that side that would be cool and keep us out of…’ A murmur rose behind them, and Giles turned to see the cause of it.
The beasts pointed down the valley. The sun glinted off two gates at the foot of the rock city. Slowly, they swung open as if these might be the real Gate to Paradise. Giles listened for the expected rumble but heard nothing.
The company watched as a troop of soldiers marched in neat, trim ranks from the dark cavern behind the gates. Old habits died hard; Giles estimated that the contingent numbered one hundred by the number of officers decked with gold rank stripes. Four squads formed and wheeled into the desert with a precision Giles both envied and feared.
‘They’re well trained,’ he said. ‘Too well trained for my taste. Discipline’s good, which is bad for us.’
He glanced at Red Mane. ‘How far is it to the cave you mentioned? Can we get there before they see us?’
‘I think, perhaps, they have already seen us. We had better run for it.’
‘You lead, we’ll follow.’ Giles felt his heart pace accelerating. Before battle it was always like this. As much as he hated it, he needed it, also. Battle vindicated his existence; he was more than good at it. He survived.
‘Hurry,’ Giles shouted after Red Mane, as the beast loped off. Giles waved to Petia and Keja, who had been tying down their packs in preparation for real flight.
He ran to help Anji with the lirjan. The sudden activity had frightened the animals.
‘Quiet,’ Anji soothed. ‘Easy, my lovely ones. It will be all right.’ He handed one lead rope to Giles and kept the other two himself. ‘Come, my sweets.’ He urged the two lirjan into motion and gestured with his head for Giles to fall in behind, knowing that the single animal would follow its two companions.
‘How you can sweet-talk those smelly creatures, I’ll never know.’ Giles laughed at a sudden thought. When Anji grew older, what would he be like with women? If the boy could gentle odorous, bad-tempered lirjan this easily, he’d have his way with just about any woman.
His mind turning to more immediate problems, Giles estimated the distance separating them from the troop. His practiced eye claimed three miles. The disciplined troop would make good time. An individual could outrun a troop of soldiers, but Giles had doubts about his own people and the beasts.
He looked ahead toward the side of the valley. Even if they reached it, the soldiers would know where they had gone. And his group was outnumbered. However, they would put up a fight. They had no other choice; retreating into the desert was out of the question.
‘What’s happening?’ Giles asked Anji.
‘Another troop.’ Anji pointed at the rock city.
A second gate had swung open on the western side of Shahal, and soldiers were marching smartly out of the shadow. They were closer to the valley edge and quick-stepped.
‘They’ll cut us off,’ Giles muttered. ‘We’re going to be captured unless we think of something fast.’
He watched in dismay as one squad of the original troop separated from the main body, breaking into a trot. The squad outnumbered them two to one.
The beasts cowered together, all confidence gone, as they watched the military precision of the men advancing toward them.
‘Run!’ Giles shouted. ‘Back the way we came.’ As treacherous as the desert was, it presented their only hope to avoid capture.
Petia and Keja ran back to where Giles and Anji stood with the lirjan.
‘Red Mane,’ Giles shouted again. ‘Make them understand. We’ve got to run.’
The beast stood, a look of sadness on his face, and shook his head. The beasts had given up; in their minds they had already been captured.
‘We’ve got to leave the lirjan, Giles,’ Keja said. ‘We’ll never get away if we try to take them. They’ll be able to spot us from miles off.’
‘But our supplies,’ Petia said. ‘We won’t survive in the desert without food and water.’
‘Keja’s right. Use them as a diversion.’ Giles pointed and Anji went to the animals, patting each one on the nose before turning and kicking it on the rump. The offended lirjan ambled off to the southwest, then broke into a trot.
‘Now, hurry.’ Giles loosened the sword in its scabbard, then ran westward. The others followed.
In the end, the escape attempt proved fruitless. The humans ran until their lungs strained and every drop of water drained from their bodies. The sun rose higher and the desert shimmered in the heat. The troop pursued them tirelessly.
‘Where’s that miserable djinn?’ gasped out Keja. ‘He brought the soldiers down on our necks! He did it!’
Giles had no time to debate the point. Keja might have been right. A more immediate problem faced them, though. Skeleton men surrounded them as they lay gasping in the shade of a boulder. Emotionless, white bones impervious to the burning sun, the skeletal warriors pulled the humans to their feet and bound their hands, not even bothering to take their weapons. To Giles, this amounted to humiliation far exceeding any he had ever known. The skeleton troops counted his sword and skill as trivial.
They prodded Giles and the others silently toward Shahal.
‘Been nice knowing you,’ Keja said as they neared the towering, ornately wrought gate into Shahal.
‘We’re not dead yet,’ Giles said, but he shared Keja’s feelings. Dread filled him as the gates swung open like a brass-toothed mouth to swallow them.
Eleven
We should have fought,’ Keja grumbled.
‘They outnumbered us,’ Petia reasoned, ‘and they weren’t tired from travelling all night. We would have been killed.’
‘Can skeletons ever get tired?’ asked Keja. ‘Bone tired?’ He snorted and leaned against a cold stone wall, arms tightly fastened behind him.
Giles didn’t blame the man for his attitude. As a leader, he hadn’t done too well. They had been herded into Shahal and thrown into these poxy cells, the likes of which Giles had seldom seen. Even during the Trans War, when he’d spent a short stretch as prisoner of war, he had not endured conditions like these. Even worse, the old gaoler hadn’t allowed them to keep their weapons, as the skeleton warriors had; he had a fine sense of fear about him and had hung their swords in a neat row along one wall of the dungeon.
He looked around to see how the others were. Their arms were tied behind their backs. They lay where they had been pushed, recovering slowly. He got his knees under him, pushing with his head and shoulders. He steadied himself, then staggered to his feet. With his hands behind him, he had difficulty helping the others. He moved among them, encouraging them to their feet. Keja was the last, his face ashen.
They lowered themselves gingerly onto a bench running along one wall. The gaoler muttered to himself in one corner of the room. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he rose from his chair at a small table and came toward them.
He bent down and stared at each of them. Giles realised that he had only one eye, his left. Blinking and muttering, he turned away and opened the door of another cage in the corner opposite that of the beasts. The humans saw that he was hunchbacked. He returned to the humans, shuffling and digging inside his dirty robe. His hand finally emerged, bringing with it a knife.
‘What are you doing, old man?’ Giles asked.
‘Cage,’ the old man answered, gesturing with the knife to the other side of the room. ‘You.’ He pointed the blade at Giles’ chest.
Giles obeyed, the man using the knifepoint to prod him into the cage. He locked the door with a simple shuttle catch, then returned to the others.
One by one he escorted them into the cage. After he had locked the door for the last time, he stood outside and said, ‘Hands.’
‘What?’ Keja asked.
‘Hands.’ He made a cutting gesture with the knife. Giles understood and backed up to the cage bars. The old man reached through and cut Giles’ bindings, then did the same for the others.
The old man shuffled away to resume his seat at the table.
‘I don’t think he’s very bright,’ Keja said. ‘One eye, hunchbacked, filthy misshapen pig.’ He spat.
‘He may not be bright, but he’s obviously our gaoler,’ Petia said. ‘He got us into the cage quickly enough.’
‘If we’re careful and don’t anger him, we may be able to talk ourselves back out of the cage.’
‘You may be right, Keja,’ Giles said. ‘But out of the cage isn’t out of the dungeon.’
‘But it’s the first step.’
‘I wonder why we weren’t taken to the Skeleton Lord?’ Petia mused. ‘We’re probably not important to him, but I’d think he’d be interested in where we’ve come from and what we were doing in the middle of the desert.’
‘Don’t be in too big a hurry to meet the Skeleton Lord,’ Giles advised. ‘I doubt it will be much fun.’
A banging sounded on the dungeon door. The old hunchback shuffled to unlock it, then stood back, cowering, shielding his good eye with his hand.
A corpulent man, dressed in grey and hugging a fur cloak about him, advanced into the room. Behind him stood a tall, emaciated man, dressed in maroon velvet robes. His face was shrivelled, as if the dryness of the desert had removed all moisture from it. He stepped past the fat man, saying, ‘It’s all right, Leaal, they’ve been caged.’
He advanced across the room to stand before the beasts’ cage. ‘What have we here? The beasts have returned.’ He smirked – and it turned his skeletal face even uglier. ‘Not content with their freedom in the desert, they’ve returned to offer allegiance to their lord. How discerning of them to wish to serve the one who will soon be master of the entire continent!’
The beasts cowered to the back of the cage. Red Mane stood nearest the Skeleton Lord. He glanced at the man, but even he did not have enough courage to face him directly.
The Skeleton Lord stood watching, savouring the fear that the beasts so obviously showed. Then, with a swish of his elegant robe, he turned his attention to the opposite corner of the room.
The four stood, their hands gripping the bars, staring back at the Skeleton Lord. Even Anji dared to stare, unafraid, into the sardonic eyes.
