James Wyatt - In the Claws of the Tiger

“Go ahead and send the eye around in a wider circle,” Janik said. “Let’s make sure there aren’t more hiding in the hills.”

“Very well,” the elf said. After a short silence, he said, “No, nothing. Looks like we’re clear.”

“Great,” said Janik. “Let’s go get those two.”

“Wait, Mathas,” Dania said. “Can you see if there’s a way for us to approach the tower under cover? Can we circle behind somehow?”

“Hold on,” Mathas said. “I’m not sure … yes, perhaps. If we start going that way-”

Without opening his eyes, Mathas pointed away from the tower, to where a shallow gulley ran down from the level spot where they stood.

“-we should be able to come around more or less from behind. I think we can get fairly close before we come into view.”

“Excellent,” Dania said.

“Good thinking, Dania,” Janik said. “Are we ready?” Mathas’s eyes fluttered open, and he nodded.

“Here,” Auftane said, “let me have your sword.”

Janik’s left hand dropped to the scabbard at his belt before he realized that he still held the blade in his right. He wiped it clean on the dead necromancer’s robe before handing it, hilt first, to the dwarf.

Auftane took the sword, holding it gingerly in his hands. He dipped his thumb into a small jar he had produced from one of the many pouches at his belt, and began tracing glyphs and symbols on the blade.

“It was faster when he did it before,” Janik said with an apologetic glance at Mathas, who grinned.

“I can do it faster, but it takes a lot out of me,” Auftane said, continuing to trace symbols on the sword and sounding a bit distracted. “In the thick of battle, it’s worth it. Since we have the time, I might as well take it.”

“Fair enough,” Janik said.

A quarter of an hour later, they were making their way up another gully toward the back side of the tower. As Mathas had described, the ancient tower was now little more than a single, curved wall facing the north. The fiends had erected a wooden ladder leading up to a small ledge marking what must once have been the tower’s roof. There was barely enough room for the creature that stood up there, and it kept one hand on the wall as if ready to catch itself in case the ledge crumbled beneath its feet. The zakya kept its eyes glued to the north, clearly still expecting Janik’s party to emerge from hiding in that direction.

They came into view of the tower within a stone’s throw of the two fiends. Mathas started the battle by engulfing them in a white blast of frigid air. Frost caked their armor and fur as they roared in surprise and pain. Janik and Dania rushed forward and the zakya on the ground ran to meet them, while the one on the upper ledge made its way quickly but carefully down the ladder, the rungs slick with ice.

Before the second one finished its descent, Janik and Dania had flanked the first zakya and sent it sprawling on the ground. Janik gave an admiring glance at his sword, which no longer felt like a blunt implement. Whatever Auftane had done had proven quite effective-his second blow had pierced straight to the fiend’s heart, killing it instantly.

Seeing its companion felled so quickly, the second fiend checked its headlong charge and approached more warily, careful to avoid getting between Janik and Dania. Auftane reached them at the same time as the zakya, swinging his mace into its hips as it focused on Dania, hacking with its sword and slashing with its shield. Roaring in fury, the creature turned its full attention to Auftane, pushing him backward-but leaving its own back exposed to Janik’s sword. Janik aimed his next blow carefully, finding his opportunity when the zakya overextended its arm to hack at the nimble dwarf. He slid his blade into a gap in the creature’s armor at its shoulder, and it stumbled, roared weakly, and collapsed.

“You said something about making this magic permanent?” Janik said to Auftane, admiring his sword once more.

Auftane laughed. “Time and money,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’re not likely to have the time or the right materials until we’re back in Stormreach.”

“Too bad,” Janik said. He wiped the blade on the fur of the second rakshasa, still crusted with frost, and slid it back into its sheath.

With the tower cleared of its guards, Janik led his friends out of the tower and into Menechtarun, the great golden desert. The dry scrub that had been growing more sparse since they left the riverbank disappeared completely. The dry earth became sun-blasted sand, and they found their footing much less stable. With each step, their feet sank and slid in the sand, slowing their progress to a crawl. The Fangs of Angarak rose up on their left, and Janik steered their course toward the more solid-and, he hoped, less arid-ground of the foothills.

They saw no more towers and no more zakyas. The sand crawled with snakes and scorpions-some of them almost as large as Auftane-but most of them slid or scuttled away as Janik drew near at the front of the group, and the more aggressive specimens were quickly dispatched. After fighting armor-clad demons, even a dwarf-sized snake did not seem threatening.

Each night, Mathas erected his magical hut, its walls seemingly formed of sand bricks. The quiet desert grew noisier at night as unseen creatures emerged from their hiding places to hunt in the cooler air and cover of darkness. Janik continued to sleep fitfully, spending hours lying in his bunk listening to the sounds outside and the slow breathing of his companions. He rarely rose to look out the door any more-partly because he doubted any serious threat, and partly because he didn’t want to risk another confrontation with Dania.

Mel-Aqat loomed larger in his mind with each passing day. They would reach the ruins in a matter of weeks. What would they find there? Had they indeed released or awakened some ancient fiend that had reestablished a kingdom of demons in the ruins and the surrounding desert? Would Krael be there, perhaps already engaged in the ritual that would shatter the spiritual bonds of the couatls and release the rakshasa rajah from the Place of Imprisonment? Was it possible that Krael had already succeeded?

And what about Maija? He did not expect to find her at Mel-Aqat, of course, but he held on to the possibility that he might find some clue there about what had happened to her.

Perhaps even a way to bring her back to him.

Passing days stretched into passing weeks, and then … they arrived. Just as the days seemed to blur, one into the next, in a haze of desert heat and endless sand, Mathas spotted giant stone blocks half-buried in the desert sand.

“Those are only the remnants of the city’s outer wall,” Janik said, “and they’re still miles away. We should make camp here, out of sight and out of reach, and plan to approach the ruins tomorrow.”

“If you’re serious about being out of sight, we should move farther away,” Dania said. “If we can see the walls, they’ve got some chance to see us-especially once Mathas has erected our campsite. And there are still a few hours of good light.”

“Agreed,” Janik said. “But Mathas, why don’t you send your eyes ahead and give us some idea what we can expect?”

“Of course. Should I do that now, or after we make camp?”

“Why not do it now?” Janik said. “The information might be useful in choosing where we camp.”

Mathas began the long chant that would let him extend his senses as far as the ruins, and Auftane dropped down on the sand, sitting awkwardly with his short legs spread in front of him. Dania crouched beside him, but Janik paced in the sand around them. After walking all day for six straight weeks, he had a hard time stopping while the sun was still in the sky-especially with their destination in sight.