CHAPTER ELEVEN—A SHIFT IN MAGICAL AURA

With a travelling and ponderous moan that filled the night sky, the beast had finally stopped striding over the hilly isles and clear water straights. The rain had stopped, but the ground was damp and the smell of earth and grass filled Shiro’s nostrils.

“It stopped,” said Ali.

“Do you not think we know that?” Raz asked. “We are not stupid, you know?”

Ali raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes I wonder, brother, sometimes I wonder.”

“It will not be long now before the beast settles,” said Samira. “In fact, I believe it to be doing that even now. Then we may climb down the shell”—she glanced back toward captains Ushtan and Gohar who stood with Hashem, the requisitions officer and five other Scorpions—“then they can get off.”

Shiro nodded. “We need to head back to camp,” said Shiro. “To make sure everything is all right. Then from there I want you to take me to this Angor monster to show me what it is you are talking about.”

Inwardly he sighed. Doing this would put days on their journey, and every day their forces in Northern Kalush had to contend with the Florencian forces fighting up the river. Will they be able to hold until we reach them?

“What is it?” asked Debaku. “You seem concerned, Shiro.”

“I am wondering if we should send some runners back to our camp in Zanja to inform the sultanah that we may be late.”

“That may not be a bad idea,” he said. “I only fear that any men we send back up the Eiphr or through the jungles will never return.”

“So do I.”

“One of us could go?” asked Raz.

They turned and looked accusingly at his brother. “What?” asked Raz. “I am not suggesting I do it. Thid adventure is way too much fine—and besides, I won’t get rich going back up the river.”

“You are already rich,” said Ali, “and besides, you live like a bun anyway—what do you care about riches?”

“Fame,” said Raz simply. “I like the notoriety. You would be surprised how well it works with women.”

“I am certain that I would,” drawled Ali, “and you need to keep Leilyn in your thoughts, you dog.”

Raz laughed. “To be sure, brother. This is strange grass.” He spread it about with his sandal.

“Grass?” asked Samira with a rise of her eyebrow. “We are on a mammoth shell. That is not grass.”

“Then what is it?”

“It is hair,” she said, “or what passes for hair on an aquatic monster, you tomb robber!”

Raz chortled. “You like me don’t you?”

She sniffed.

“In any event,” said Shiro, “if we send someone, it may just have to be you, Raz. You have that sword. You could swim up the river easily to escape any enemies. Does it allow you to swim well beneath the surface?”

He remembered that hump of water when Raz had swam beneath the surface after their boat had been crushed by the Hahkamorra.

“Of course,” he said, “like a fish, man.” He swiped his excellent hair back with his fingers, and Shiro wondered if that hadn’t played more of a part in his adventures with the opposite sex.

“Mm,” he noised and nodded.

“Oh!” Raz said quickly.

“I feel it also,” said Debaku. “We are lowering.”

“The mammoth shell,” said Samira, “is going back to sleep.”

There was a rumble and a shudder underneath their feet as the motion stopped. No one said anything for a moment, and it was then that Shiro realized that he could hear the creature breathing, or what passed for “breathing” with such a large beast. The sound was more like the wind.

“Now we can get off,” said Samira. She started walking toward the slop. “I did not want to tell you this before, but… I sense a shift in magical aura. The Angora. It is active.”

“What?” asked Shiro. “What do you mean ‘active’?”

She slid down the shell and stopped at the upturned lip. Because of the size of the creature, there was much dirt lodges there and real grass growing, which was probably why they had never recognized the beast’s shell.

That, and it was so large.

In any event, Shiro’s alarm had suddenly risen and he quested out with his magic, feeling toward that subtle aura of magic that was hard to pin down. He did sense a sort of direction to it, like storm clouds being blow in a particular direction.

“Why did you say nothing before?” asked Debaku as he slid down. Shiro was close behind.

“Because, the mammoth shell had not yet rested, and unless you are willing to abandon your men here—which I know you are not—then there was no point in disturbing you.”

“Then disturb us now,” Raz said. He jumped from the lip onto the ground. Ahead of them a forest of palms stretched before the terrain slopped back down toward the water’s edge.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

It would take them some time to hike back to the camp. Shiro joined them presently along with Ushtan, Gohar, Hashem and the other Scorpions.

“You need to tell us,” said Shiro. “No—you need to be more open with us.”

“Why?” Samira asked as she whirled around to face them. “It is you here on my turf. I only told you about the monster because I don’t want to see your men’s lives be thrown away, and I saved this Mar’a Thulian lout because he was so pathetically in distress, yes?”

Turning his head, Debaku scowled with incredulity, but he said nothing. He was not one to argue a point. He knew his strengths, and weaknesses. He did not brag, he did not haggle—though at times he slipped in a jab toward Raz, who never seemed to cease his buffoonish behavior.

“I cannot say for certain,” said Samira, “but I suspect the Angor is reaching out toward your army at the present time.”

They all bristled.

“Nani?!”

She looked at him, but clearly she understood what he meant, not because she spoke his Mikuman language, but because of the context in which he said the word. “Even now, the Angor may be pulling your men to their doom.”

“Then we need to move!” snapped Shiro. “Now! Come on!”

“You cannot save them without my help,” she said.

Shiro swallowed as the others looked to Samira. Finally Ali spoke up. “And I suppose you will not help us unless we meet some kind of demand?”

She shrugged slightly. “Perhaps.”

“I cannot believe this!” He turned to the Samurai. “Shiro—forget this lying adventurer. We do not even know who she is! Let’s go—let’s help the men!”

“Yes,” said Raz, “I agree. We need to save them.”

“Debaku?” he asked.

The Mar’a Thulian flicked his eyes over to Samira, then back to Shiro. “We cannot rely on this woman to hold us hostage.”

“Exactly!” Ali said aggressively as he thrust his hand forward. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. It is nice someone finally agrees.”

“Wait,” Debaku said. “I was dragged by this monster for some time. I only escaped after Samira cut the monsters tendrils away.”

“We have swords,” Ali said. “We can do the same.”

“Yes,” said Debaku with a nod, “but first, I want to entreat the princess and ask her for her help without ulterior motives.”

She stood, waiting for him to address her. She looked bored with heavy-lidded eyes. “Well go on… ‘entreat’ me.”

“I see you only have contempt. Forget I said anything.” He turned to the samurai. “Shiro—we should be off as quickly as we can.”

“You know nothing about the Angor or how to combat it.”

“You cut the vines,” Ali barked. “You said it yourself.”

She scoffed. “It is much harder than that, you silly Abassir man.”

“Silly?” Ali snarled. He pulled out his scimitar. “I will show you silly, you—“

“Ali!” Shiro snapped, and grabbed his wrist. The high vizier looked at him, his lips pursed and his eyes wide. “I know she irks you—“

“Irks me?” he asked, nodding his head emphatically. “Irks me, Shiro?! I want to stamp the life out of this whore!”

“That is enough,” Shiro said through his teeth. But when Ali did not desist, he leaned in. Quietly he said, “She is far stronger than you.”

Ali growled, but then his muscles slackened and Shiro released him. The high vizier lowered his sword, but he did not sheath it.

“Now that you are finished squabbling,” Samira said, her demeanor one of arrogant contempt, “perhaps you would like to listen to my proposal?”

“It better be a good one,” said Raz. “I don’t think the ‘high vizier’ will likely be swayed.”

“That is enough,” Shiro said. “Raz, please. Do not stoke this fire.”

Amusement flooded into Shiro’s consciousness and he almost twitched out an involuntary smile. Ah, conveyed Jessamine. Without me, you’re all falling apart.

That is not true.

What passed for a silky laugh came back. It was more of a projected thought within his mind and an emotional feeling matching that description.

Laugh if you want, Shiro conveyed.

Then he turned back to the conversation at hand. “Samira,” he said. “What is it that you want from us?”

“Your assurances.”

“Of…?” Ali asked testily. “Go on—do not make us wait.”

“Can you not keep the Abassir toady quiet?” asked Samira. “He speaks too much.”

“Hey,” Raz said. “That ‘toady’ is my brother.”

“And you’re a tomb robber.”

Shiro growled with frustration. “Hai!—Yes! We know this. We have been through this. What is it you wish?”

Samira smiled arrogantly. Then with a sigh she continued. “I wish to be the one to kill the Angor. There is a jewel at its heart. This must be mine.”

“That is all?” asked Raz incredulously. “I certainly would not mind getting my hands on the jewel. The one I got from the dungeon boss in Azurbadan.”

“Never mind that,” said Ali. “If this is all you want, you can have it. Right Shiro?”

He nodded. “Mm.”

“Then we have an agreement,” said Samira. “From all of you.”

“Yes,” said Ali.

“All of you,” she repeated.

They all nodded, stating that they agreed to her terms. “Good. Now, the Angor is evil and highly treacherous. We must approach it with caution.”

“What about our men?” Shiro asked. “We must help them before it is too late.”

He took pause. “We have no time to lose. I will tell you more when we have become close enough to do battle with the creature, yes?”

“The men,” Ali said, persisting upon Shiro’s earlier statement.

She sighed. “Yes, yes. Your men. I know you want to save them—and we will. But you must trust me in how we go about this, or you, and you, and you—will all die along with them. Do you understand me?”

Ali muttered something about “obeying her majesty” and then they ascended to her superior knowledge. But Ali ended with, “But we still do not know if she’s trust worthy.”

“We must risk it,” said Debaku. “She saved my life and she came to aide us with the mammoth shell.”

“Yes,” said Raz, “why did you do that?”

“Not now. Do you want to save your men?”

“Of course!” Shiro said.

“Then follow me.”

They followed her as she set a very fast pace. Ushtan and the other Scorpions lagged behind, and when it became clear that they could not keep up, they had to stop and speak to them, whereupon they agreed that they would find their way back to the camp, which was determined to be in their relative north-west.

With them, they sent Raz and Ali, who, in the beginning, had both objected to such a plan, but eventually, upon hearing that they might encounter danger, had agreed. It was not that they wanted to go looking for danger—well, maybe Raz did—but rather that the two men wanted to be useful.

“Be careful,” Samira said. “You might be my least favorite, Abassir man, but you should know, that if your men are under attack, they may still be under attack. You need to move them away from the Angor’s reach.

“Water,” said Raz.

“That will not work.”

“Then over the hills,” added Ali.”

“Perhaps,” said Samira. “But the Angor’s grasp can reach a long distance. The best place would be in your ships, moving constantly upon the water.”

Shiro growled.

He did not like being separated, and he certainly did not like that this monster Samira called the “Angor,” was so dangerous. Would that they could simply go around it, but that would take months, and besides, if she was right, and many of the men were being dragged toward its maw even at that moment, then they had to kill it.

In this way, they could save the men, but also move through the Angor’s territory, taking the fasted route to Southern Kalush, which was a straight line from their camp.

“All right,” Ali said with a nod.

“By the way,” Raz added again. “We”—he gestured to himself and Ali, which there was a certain resemblance, though Ali’s features were sharper, and his hair was less magnificent—“are both Abassir men.”

Samira quirked a grin. “And you think I do not know that?”

Raz sniffed with bemusement.

“Come on,” Ali said. “We should not waste time.”

Then he and Raz and the Scorpions broke off. Shiro called to his friend one last time. When Ali turned to him, he said, “Good luck.”

Ali smiled. “And you too.”

Over the hills and through the trees, across the straights and through swampy pits and thick mist, Samira led Shiro and Debaku in the direction of Southern Kalush—in the direction of the the men, and the Angor in wait for them all.