He fielded the rain of questions, held back a yawn, and glanced at Anhuset. She looked haggard. She'd slept little over the past few days, and while resilient, even she wasn't immune to exhaustion. “We'll tell you everything in the morning,” he promised the others. “For now, I'm off to bed and you should be as well.” He stepped closer to Anhuset. “That includes you. The towboat has a nightwatch as does the barge, and the crew knows this river better than any of us. I need you alert and refreshed if you plan to finish this journey with me.”
She didn't argue, only gave a quick nod, fished her cloak out of her stash of gear left on the boat and stretched out on the deck away from the walkways. Wrapped in her cloak, she was a still silhouette under the stars. Serovek wished he could join her.
Before he found his own bed, he checked on Magas and the other horses. The stallion whickered to him and nuzzled Serovek's hair while demanding more scratches along his neck. Serovek breathed deeply of the scent of horse and river. Despite their pungency, they were pleasant smells, a mark of the natural that traveled along paths adjacent to the unnatural.
He gave Magas a few more affectionate pats before returning to the part of the boat his comrades had taken for sleeping. Someone had reserved a spot for him not far from Anhuset, using his gear as a marker. Serovek would much rather have shared her space or have her share his, but such preferences would have to remain wishes. For now.
The captain approached him as he laid out his bedroll. “Haradis still surrounded by the canals?”
Serovek didn't miss the worried note in the man's inquiry. He sat down to remove his boots and dug through his main satchel for a pair of stockings to warm his still frozen feet. He was tired, not so much from the trek back to the boat, but from the aftereffects of terror and the scrape with death in Haradis. “Still surrounded,” he said. “You weren't dressing it in frills when you said the landscape had changed. Who dug those canals? The squire who took out the bridges? Because that isn't the work of the Kai.”
The captain shrugged. “Every Beladine within walking, riding or swimming distance gathered to dig them.” He shivered. “I hear tell from those who live closest or ride the river that on some nights you can hear the ghosts of the Kai who died there screaming.” He eyed Serovek who didn't comment. “Could be fanciful storyteller's tripe to scare everyone, but I'm glad the water's there.”
He paled when Serovek said, “So am I.”
The two bid each other good night, and Serovek lay on his back, contemplating the heavens while he waited for sleep to claim him. Onegalla. Only one lurking in Haradis, trapped by water and eager to devour anything or anyone unfortunate to cross its path.We thought we got them all.The idea that they missed one sickened him. The possibility that they hadn't and somehow one had escaped its prison again lodged his heart in his throat.
The rough canals offered a small measure of fortification against another—gods forbid—hul-gallaescaping the city, but he feared it wasn't enough. Not now and definitely not in the long-term. He understood Anhuset's insistence she accompany him and the others to the monastery. The dazzling bolt of cerulean light which speared then enveloped the shriekinggallabefore disappearing with it was Megiddo. Even had Serovek not heard or recognized the voice that commanded them to run, he knew the bright arrow's source, had felt the essence of the man's existence in his very bones. Somehow, the monk's eidolon had crossed ethereal barriers to capture agallaand drag it back to its pit.
Serovek suspected Megiddo's ability to do so was directly tied to the existence of his still-breathing body in this world—a lifeline that allowed the eidolon access to the reality in which his physical form abided. Keeping his body safe had become more than a mission of respect for a fallen hero: it was now an absolute necessity. If anothergallaswarm somehow broke free again, every breathing being would depend on a circle of water and the imprisoned soul of a monk to save them. Had he been standing at the moment, the weight of such an awful scenario would have brought him to his knees.
Brishen needed to know what was happening at the old Kai capital and possibly organize a brigade of workers to deepen, widen, and reinforce those canals. And if the Kai wouldn't do it, Serovek would find a Beladine who would. He'd redirect the entire mighty Absu until Haradis drowned under her waters if necessary. Such an act might start a war between his country and Brishen's, but dealing with thegallaexacted a greater price. Friendships throughout history had been tested by difficult decisions. Some survived, some didn't. One lived with the consequences of doing what was necessary.
Snores and muttered bits of dreams from his comrades surrounded him. Sleep didn't elude them as it did him. Serovek abandoned his observation of the stars to regard Anhuset where she lay on her side away from him, a long silhouette. He'd never forget her expression when she gazed upon Haradis, wrecked by thegalla.
He'd always considered her a fiercely beautiful woman, even with the yellow eyes and intimidating teeth. His first sight of her had stopped him in his tracks, and he'd gawked like a young lad while she bent a contemptuous scowl on him. Everything about her fascinated him, and despite the emotional armor she wore, even more difficult to penetrate than that made of leather and steel, he'd swear before any and all that underneath was a woman as vulnerable as she was powerful. He'd glimpsed that vulnerability as they stood before Haradis's broken gates. It had taken colossal effort not to reach out and draw her into his embrace, to offer some token of sympathy or comfort.
She would have broken his arms for his presumption. Instead, he'd waited beside her as she rode out the shockwave of grief. Later, practically drunk on relief at escaping the city still alive, he'd dared to kiss her palm. Those claws of hers would have shredded his cheek with a single swipe had she wished to harm him. Her hand had been cool on his face, the skin toughened in places with calluses. Not the delicate palm of a pampered lady, but one of a warrior who wielded sword and spear and carried a shield.
What would it be like, he wondered, to gain sha-Anhuset's affection? That unswerving devotion she gifted to Brishen and, by association, to his wife Ildiko?
He put aside the question and other useless pondering about the enigmatic Kai woman and closed his eyes. An image of the straygallain all its shadowy madness rode along the edges of slumber, making him shiver. Somehow the monk, tortured and flensed on an iron web by a mob of the demonic, had broken free and become a hunter of his torturers.
Serovek hadn't given any thought to the death awaiting him when he used himself as bait to give Anhuset a slim chance of safely reaching the canals. He'd simply reacted. Thank the gods she'd cut off his noble, reckless gesture at the knees by chasing after him, then dragging him into the fountain's stagnant waters. But it had been Megiddo who'd ultimately saved them both. Could they do no less for him? Do more than just leave his body at the monastery and be on their merry way? The question grated against Serovek's soul until sleep finally overtook him.
The two crafts continued their way up the Absu's tributary the following day, traveling toward the territories troubled by the warlord Chamtivos. Serovek stood with his men at one end of the boat. Anhuset was not among them. She remained where she'd bedded down the night before, still fast asleep. He'd chosen not to wake her to break her fast or join this meeting. She already knew of his plan; they'd discussed the details on the trek back to the landing. After several days with minimal sleep, she needed the rest, and he needed her alert for the remainder of the journey.
Earlier, he'd enjoyed a smoke from his pipe and watched from a spot nearby as Ogran passed Anhuset, paused, and walked backwards to stand beside her. He slid a foot toward her slumbering form as if to shove her awake.
Serovek lowered his pipe. “Ogran,” he warned in a soft voice. The tracker froze. “Unless you want your head used as fish bait and your entrails decorating the barge, I suggest you rethink that idea.”
Ogran gave a careless shrug before continuing on his way to where his comrades sat with the crew for their morning meal. Serovek eyed him now, standing apart from the others as he usually did, a faint sneer on his mouth and his eyes constantly shifting from one person to the next without ever meeting their gazes.
Had he always possessed such a sly mien, or had Anhuset's suspicion influenced the way Serovek viewed him? Ogran had never given him or his commanders any trouble in the years he'd served at High Salure, and his tracking skills had come in handy numerous times. Serovek had brought him on this trip because of those talents. Ogran's surly manner was of no concern to him as long as the man didn't stir discord among the other soldiers or display insubordination. The tracker had done neither so far, though he obviously disliked Anhuset. The Kai woman, as brusque in her own way as Ogran, wouldn't care if some human disapproved of her, so her questions stemmed from something else, something more worrisome.
He didn't have the luxury of mulling over the idea long. A brief recounting of their adventure in Haradis and the encounter with thegallaleft him fielding numerous questions all focused on just how effective the canals were in keeping the thing and any of its ilk trapped in the city.
“They've trapped thegallaso far. Who knows how long it's been lurking in there. No reason to think it can get out now, especially if there's some ghost or guardian making sure it doesn't get out.” He hadn't divulged his belief in the idea of Megiddo manifesting as the arrow of light. His men were already disquieted by the monk's breathing but soulless body.
“I thought you and the other four got rid of all thegalla, commander.” Weson turned to look over his shoulder in the direction of Haradis, growing more distant with each bob of the boat. The shadow of fear lingered in his eyes when he turned back to stare at Serovek.
“So did I. So did we all. And I believe it to be true. This wasn't agallamissed but one somehow escaped. Either there's another breach between worlds or some idiot sorcerer trying to make a name for himself sneaked into Haradis, managed to summon one and ended up being eaten by the thing.”
Serovek conjured the last scenario on the spot, wishing that such were true instead of the possibility of a breach. His soldiers latched onto the idea with enthusiasm. He didn't blame them. It was a far less terrifying scenario.
The wagon driver, Klanek, suggested posting a warning marker at the city's edge on their return trip. “Maybe it would keep people out of there and from causing more trouble,” he said.
“A sign like that would start a panic.” Erostis punched a hole in the idea before Serovek could. “All it would take is one person to see the sign, make the usual wrong assumption, and set rumors flying. Next thing you know, Belawat would be at war with Bast-Haradis and no one clear as to how it all got started.”