CHAPTER NINETEEN—STAGING AREA
Shiro marched at the head of the army with Ali and Raz at his side. They were not in the vanguard force of fifty or so Scorpions, but with the main phalanx.
“I would much rather be at the front,” Raz complained.
“Then go,” Ali said. “Why are you staying back here?”
The man shrugged and loped off toward the vanguard—each of them Blades from Darius’ old honor guard. They were the best of the best, the most skilled Scorpion soldiers in his entire army.
After a time, Shiro felt what was clearly a strong magical presence in their relative north-west. He said so, but Ali paid it little interest.
Can you sense it? he conveyed. There was a long pause as the marching of the small army filled his ears. Jessamine?
I sense nothing, she finally conveyed back. Her attitude was not one of bemusement, humor or silky playfulness.
What is wrong? You seem withdrawn.
I am tired, Shiro. I need time to recoup my energy before I can assist you further.
What if I should need you?
Call on my only if you must…
“Shiro?” Ali asked. “Shiro?!”
“Hmm—what?”
“I am speaking, man. Stay out of your head.”
“Gomen, my friend. What were you saying?”
Ali thrust his chin up and he caught sight of Raz returning with Samira at his side. But where was Debaku?
“Something is wrong,” he said.
“Now do not be so quick to say that, or you will put a curse upon us.”
“You are superstitious.”
“Let me be superstitious, Shiro—and do not pretend you aren’t superstitious yourself. There are many peculiarities of yours that I know can only come from your own strange culture.”
“All right,” he said with a nod, and said no more about his worries concerning Debaku’s absence.
Ali sprinted to catch them and Shiro followed. Once they were close enough, Shrio asked about Debaku. Samira simply shook her head as she glanced about at the army for a moment.
“I could not stop him,” she finally said.
“What do you mean?” Shiro asked.
“Do you sense that power?”
Shiro nodded.
“I feel it too,” Raz said.
“He went after that,” she said.
“What—you did not stop him?” asked Ali. “Did he not say what it was?”
“He seemed to think it was the aura of a jinni called—“
“Archaemenes,” Shiro said.
“That is right. You know of him?”
Shiro nodded. “Hai.”
“What do we do?” asked Ali. “We need Debaku here with us! He is a powerful adventurer! Shiro—you have to go after him, stop him from wasting time.”
“But what if it really is his friend?”
“I don’t know anything about this jinni called Archa…”
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“Archaemenes,” Shiro corrected.
“Yes, yes,” Ali said with a wave of his hand. “And if he knows this strange jinni, then why does he come here now at this time?”
Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Debaku said that he was lost to the void. It was many years ago and he has been gone ever since.”
Raz made a face as they all turned to keep up with the vanguard to prevent the main force from overtaking them as they marched. They all had to raise their voices to be heard within the onslaught of stamping feet across the ground. “It seems awfully suspicious to me.”
“Would he not know that?” Samira asked. “He seemed intent on going to him. He would not be dissuaded. Believe me. I tried. On that account—he bid me give you his sword.”
Shiro looked at the blade, and his first thought was of treachery, that Samira had done something—had betrayed them like Ali seemed to think she might, but then she explained.
“We traded weapons as a sign that my words are true concerning the Angor.”
“I see,” Shiro said with a nod.
“How do we know you didn’t kill him and take that blade?” Ali asked.
“You are very suspicious, Abassir…”
“Yes, I am. Forgive me for being so, but you would be too if you were in my positions, yes?”
“Probably,” she said with a nod. “But how could I kill him? You saw me fight the jinni—I mean—you saw me fight Jessamine. You know he is more powerful than I am.”
“Do I?”
“Enough,” Shiro said. “I know it, and I am certain Raz knows this as well, right?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Ali lifted an eyebrow.
“Arigatou, Raz…” Shiro drawled.
“In any event,” said Samira as she pulled out a scroll of velum. “This is the map I have drawn of the Angor.”
Shiro looked at it. There were some terrain features and white paint circles. “What does it say?”
“Give it to me,” Ali said. “Still can’t read. Incredibly, man.”
“Your chicken scratch of a language is difficult.”
“At least it is not all strange lines like thrown sticks!”
Shiro rolled his eyes at Ali’s fast rejoinder to his mild insult concerning the written script of the Abassir language. Ali looked at the map for a few more moments, then turned it around. “I can’t read it either.”
Samira snatched it from him. “These are the Angor nodes, you fools.”
“I forgot,” said Ali, glancing at Shiro, who felt vindicated for being unable to read the stupid map, “you are Ashah.”
“They are large polyps,” said Samira, ignoring Ali’s comment. “They have tendrils like we have seen. But each of them also has defensive tendrils that are far deadlier than what you have so far encountered. They can syphon your magic and drain you of life-force. Do not let them touch you, yes?”
“And this big purple thing?” asked Raz.
“That is the main body.”
“It looks large,” Ali said.
“It is huge,” Samira added. “We must destroy the nodes first so that the beast cannot defend itself when we make our move on the main body. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Ali said. “We understand. We are educated Abassir men, not louts from the desert.”
“You could have fooled me…”
Ali looked at her askance, his face one of sardonic patience.
A horn sounded from far behind the army. They all turned as one. “What is that?” asked Raz.
“That is Abbaas,” said Ali, “come with the other five-hundred men. I do hope he brought some of the other commanders with him, otherwise this is going to be difficult.” He called to the small company of officers at the head of the phalanx and told them to stop.
The gave orders and a horn was sounded. Once the order went up, pinions rose above the heads of the men, indicating a visual order for the columns to stop.
“Now look at this,” said Samira. “Do you see the nodes?”
“Mm,” Shiro noised, nodding.
“We must destroy them all.”
He looked up. He would not be doing that. He had to help Debaku. “I will have to help later. I must go to Debaku.”
“What?” Ali barked. “So we lose not one top-tier adventurer, but two? No!”
“What if he is in trouble?” asked Shiro. “What if he needs help? What if he really has sensed Archaemenes’ aura. We must have him back here to help us with this fight.”
“I agree,” said Samira. “The men will be effective, but I fear without us, this fight may very well be lost.”
“You have me,” Raz said. “I can handle this monster until they get back, brother.”
Ali crossed his arms. “I do not like it.”
“And me,” said Samira. “I am not going to run around chasing that black while the Angor is in my sight. And I will not let you Abassir heathens take the glory either.”
Did she have something against Mar’a Thulians? So far she has called us all names of varying degrees—all insulting. It didn’t bother Shiro. It was simply an observation. Up until now, Samira was a stranger—an ally with a similar interest, and nothing more. We need to keep an eye on here just in case.
“I will go alone,” Shiro said, his tone low and brooking no argument from Ali.
Finally he sighed and nodded, then turned his head at the sound of the marching army behind them. The men were in a run, but a horn went up and suddenly the thunder of their increased march slowed.
“All right!” Ali said, stretching out the words with much annoyance, “go Shiro. Go find Debaku.”
He nodded quickly and turned to go.
“You better come back,” Ali called.
The samurai glanced over his shoulder. “I will,” he said. “I will not let you die, Ali, otherwise Hafza will—“
“Yes!” he spat, “she will have your balls, man.”
They all laughed, save for Samira, who looked at them like they were louts from the desert that spent their time lousing camels and drinking their rancid milk.
Charging across the ground, but not in a manner that would wind him, Shiro went after the aura of magic that he could feel. Debaku’s own aura was invisible still, as they had all maintained suppressing their magic to keep the Angor from attacking them.
Shiro hoped that his friend truly had found his jinni. Knowing what it was like to be without Jessamine, he felt for Debaku. But can Archaemenes truly be here, and if so, why is he here, now of all times? Kami-sama—why during all of this?