ARDALIA

Volume Two: TURQUOISE WATER

*****

Along the Great Rift, in the heart of the volcano Ixal, Valshhyk the Immolated is stirring.The creatures corrupted by his putrid fumes are growing in number daily. Within the fiery wallsof Sinista the amberrock swords, axes and lances of an army of outcasts gleam, waiting. The dayis drawing near when the ties binding the dark god will collapse. Then, the nylevs will surgeforward from the depths of the abyss.

Pelmen, Xuven, Teleg, Elisan-Finella and Lominan, the Messengers of Destiny, have anurgent mission. However, dissent soon rears its ugly head and they go their separate ways. Whoamong the Children of Aoles or Malia will succeed in warning the world of the danger it faces?When the time comes to confront the servants of the Sacred Fire, will the Breath of Aoles andthe power of Turquoise Water be enough to defeat them?

*****Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Dawn Lewis for her so precious last minute help with the book.

*****

Chapter One – MATTER OF CONSCIENCE

Flames were everywhere. Taller than a krongos, swift and dominant, they were dancing abloody dance of chaos and madness. Just one step forward, and they would seize him in theirdeadly embrace, scorching his body and feasting upon his soul. Pelmen turned. The tongues offire behind him drew back, outlining the path to salvation.

He walked, in a shy and reluctant way at first and then gradually with more confidence.Before him sprang the Source of All Things. Pelmen instinctively knew that in order toovercome his fear of the flames, he must fully immerse himself. By embracing them, he wouldconquer them and become their master.

For the first time in his life, he understood that he could bend fate to his will. He wasamong the chosen, and the rich and powerful would one-day bow to him. All he had to do wasreach the center of this power, where he would experience absolute bliss, and he would reignalongside...

Something was amiss. His mind began a feverish exploration, trying to dispel the swirlingclouds of red smoke. Eventually, he succeeded in clearing some of the fog. Pelmen saw a tallmalian dressed in a tunic with epaulets topped with a necklace that hid his chin, sitting on athrone. With its scarlet and golden gleams, the throne could have been mistaken for amberrock ifnot for the liquid fire moving under the surface.

Pelmen’s will was weakening under the oppression of the fog, which wasn’t so muchchoking his body than pervading his mind. Summoning all of his strength, Pelmen surged

forward. Looking the malian more closely in the face, he scrutinized the burns, and noted thesinuous symbol etched into the scorched forehead. A two-headed snake.

The Marked. Sinistan. The world around Pelmen exploded, and he took his head in both hands. The flames had

disappeared in the blast, but he felt as if a cohort of melepeks with heavy hooves had suddenlymade his head their playground. He closed his eyes. Gradually, the pain eased. Pelmen was nowable to hear his wheezing breath and to smell the aggressive sulfur in the air. He wondered justwhen he had kneeled? He got up, legs shaking, eyelids blinking. He had not even taken his bow.The dream (a nightmare, it had to be a nightmare) had forced him to wander off from hiscompanions, and had led him somewhere that he wasn’t meant to go. Sinistan... Was he behindthis? Or was it the thing Pelmen had felt in the city of the damned? A monster that had the powerto consume souls...

He turned quickly on his heel, and coughing walked as fast as he could through the dark,rocky valley, grimacing in pain with every step that he took. It was so much easier walking inthe other direction...

Unable to sense the presence of his companions, Pelmen wondered just how far he hadstrayed from them. He knew that he should have been horrified at the idea of coming back toSinista, yet he had to admit, there was something fascinating about the city and its incrediblewealth.

I must not think about that! He was exhausted, which raised the question: when did I last sleep? They were not far enough yet to escape his influence. They had walked for the best part of

the day, but never fast enough. The thing (the Master) lurking in the shadows was merciless, andPelmen had constantly felt as if a noose had been tightening around his neck. Had he not foughtthem, then the visions would have driven him insane. There was a high price to pay for hisresistance though. Terrible stabbing pains made the world a universe of fire and blood, blurringhis sight. His defenses were waning due to exhaustion.

Lominan, her shoulders hunched, slimmer than ever. Xuven, thinner too, beard raised tothe chest of Elisan, talking with the magician. Turning to stare at him, frowning. Elisan-Finellaagain, ghastly, both pairs of hands’ fingers curled. Xuven giving instructions in a strained voice.

Snippets of memories gradually found their way through the fog, eventually becoming whole.Along with his uncle Xuven, the malians Elisan-Finella and Lominan, Pelmen had fled Sinista.Teleg, his childhood friend, the blonde-haired hevelen, his face dotted with black scabs, had beencarried, unconscious, from the accursed city. So close to the Great Rift and only a few leaguesfrom the volcano Ixal, Sinista was glowing with a dark and crimson seal. Like the malian whogave the city his name...

For a long time, Teleg had lain across Pelmen’s nidepoux. The daylight had revealed morescars on his hands and neck—an unpleasant reminder of his stay in Sinista. Pelmen hoped thatthe necklace of Cilamon’s power—the artifact was wound tightly around his neck—would helphis friend’s body to recover. Teleg’s emotional state worried him even more. A few hours intotheir journey, Teleg had woken up, and Pelmen had helped him get his feet back into the saddle.Unfortunately, his mauve eyes had stayed empty, as expressionless as Lominan’s—who for someunknown reason was also immersed in apathy, with nothing that anyone said able to bring herout of it. They had just stopped once, when Elisan, who had awakened from her magician’strance, her stern face more closed than ever, had reported two scouts coming from Sinista. Therocky defile was straight, and they all felt exposed, their small group being visible from severalhundred yards. With his energies depleted, Pelmen had been incapable of using his bow, andgiven his weariness, Xuven had admitted to being unable to use his power at such a distance.Their situation was impossible.

Pelmen remembered having suffered a violent crisis at this time. Locked in battle with hisinner demons, he had only learned what had happened much later, when Xuven felt able to tellhim. Xuven had spotted a small cave, but Elisan-Finella went one step further, and invokedBubbles of Camouflage, which were mixed and melted around the melepek and their hidingplace. While Pelmen, with tears in his eyes and gagged by his uncle, was pulling out his hair, ahevelen and a malian passed close to their hiding place without seeing them. Both were in a poorcondition, their skins cracked and burned, yet dressed in leather armor and with weapons thathad amberrock tips.

Once they were certain that the danger had passed, Pelmen and his companions hadresumed their route. The nidepoux didn’t have any success finding food on the way. Even thoughthey lacked the protection of the magic of the necklaces of Cilamon, somehow the nidepouxresisted the horrific visions. So many animals succumbed to the allure of the Great Rift, andPelmen marveled at their strength. Despite the corrupt air and the hunger that gnawed at them,the quadrupeds obediently allowed themselves to be guided. The parasites inhabiting their furhad long ago left them, an even worse sign than their hoarse breathing and dull hair. Themelepek, for its part, had placed his six paws on the floor with the same unflappable consistency.

More than once, Pelmen had wondered how a hevelen like him was going to find thestrength to take on Valshhyk the Destroyer. According to legend, the one also called theImmolated was imprisoned in the heart of the volcano Ixal. However, the word “imprisoned”was to be taken with a grain of salt.

Pelmen wrinkled his triple nostrils and pulled back a strand of black hair, his bulging eyesgazing at the rock at his feet. For as much as the dark god was physically confined, the fumes ofsulfur with which he expressed his will still escaped freely from the Great Rift. The threepeoples, hevelen, krongos and malanite, had to be told. In the shadow of Sinista a mixed armywas being formed, fearsomely equipped and trained, benefiting from the crimson shamans’power, servants of the fire of the Destroyer.

Pelmen’s head grew heavier, and he wondered if this was an effect of fatigue or thebeginning of a new crisis. He had tripped for the third time in fifty paces when he finally madeout, lying on the ground, the huddled up outlines of his companions. All so deeply asleep thatthey had not heard him get up and had done nothing to stop him from leaving, contrary to whatthey had agreed. Pelmen decided not to tell them what had happened to him, as he felt that itwould be pointless to do so. At least they could sleep! Visions had haunted him in his sleep,when he was at his most vulnerable. In the starlight, he spotted a rock on the ground with anuncomfortable edge and satisfied that there was no danger of him falling asleep, Pelmen sat backand watched Teleg lying against a nidepoux. The necklace around the neck of his childhoodfriend was no longer glowing. The artifact only revealed the full extent of its power when thefumes of the Destroyer were at their most aggressive, particularly near the Great Rift. A nervoustwitch occasionally flickered across Teleg’s face.

At least doesn’t he talk anymore in his sleep. Pelmen felt as though his stomach was devouring his bowels. Glancing at his bag, he

thought wistfully about the dried meat, which had been poisoned by the deadly fumes. What’smore, he was so thirsty! Elisan-Finella was going to have to find the strength to purify their lastsupply of water, or they would all perish.

Aching from the uncomfortable stone, Pelmen dragged himself wearily to his feet, thenwalked a few feeble steps before sitting back down again, repeating the process over and overseveral times before Astar rose, turning the sky a fiery red. One by one Xuven, Elisan-Finella,Lominan and Teleg awoke. Xuven’s side whiskers and beard had turned white, Elisan seemed tofeel the weight of Finella leaning against her for the first time, Lominan, just a little smaller andthinner than the magicians, had a hardened face while Teleg’s look was still vacant. What a

valiant team! Looking at Elisan with the full intensity of his despair, Pelmen handed her hiswater-skin.

She made a gesture of denial and Pelmen bent his spine, distraught. Xuven draped his armover his nephew’s shoulders, meager comfort in the circumstances. Teleg’s nidepoux proving tooweak to carry him again, Pelmen went to support his friend. Teleg walked falteringly. Only themelepek, although as hungry as the others, still showed its toughness by agreeing to carry bothElisan-Finella and Lominan on his back. They walked for hours, only stopping for short restperiods. While gathering tauntingly in the sky, the clouds refused to release the so precious waterthey contained. Gradually, the narrow pass became less barren. They passed a veguer’en strippedof its leaves—its mauve bulbs, bloated, no longer had the strength to breathe the air. Then theypassed one of those cacti that contained an aqueous substance in their bulges. At the sight of thegreenish tinge strewn with red dots on its trunk, Xuven forbade them to touch it. Pelmen saidnothing, not even having the energy to argue, with his parched tongue sticking to his palate. Acontinuous diffuse buzzing had replaced the terrible stabbing pains from the previous day. Stillubiquitous, the smell of sulfur had stopped arousing the feeling of power just within reach.Pelmen’s last bits of will were his most valuable asset.

The path had bent, and they suddenly emerged in front of a plain of grass and lichens. Itextended to infinity in the east, and to the west was dominated by peaks on familiar terms withheaven.

Pelmen fell to his knees, gaping. The Uncrossable Mountains. He could feel it in everyfiber of his body, the breath of Aoles was powerful in the Windy Steppes. Swirling gusts sweptthe end of the narrow pass, reaching them weakened. Almost all of them were permeated withsulfur, but the effect of the fresh air flow on the hevelens was immediate, Pelmen rose andXuven and Teleg straightened their shoulders. Finally, the supernatural heat that had dried theirskin from the border of the Rift faded.

What month is it? wondered Pelmen. It must be at least the second of Aoles. Teleg also seemed to awaken from a bad dream. Full of life again, he walked straight to

Pelmen. Who did not know how to behave. “Alicene is not with us,” he murmured. “You lied to me.”Before Pelmen could answer, Teleg swung his fist at him, squarely hitting him in the jaw.

Pelmen fell on his back while his nidepoux swerved, hissing. Half-conscious, he saw Teleg grabhis necklace with both hands and throw it to the ground.

Pelmen leaned on his elbows and spat blood between coughing fits. It’s not possible... notpossible. His jaw was a well of pain. Had Teleg’s training made him stronger? Or was Pelmen’sexhaustion holding him back? His head was still spinning when Teleg dealt a masterful slap onthe rump of his nidepoux. The beast darted straight ahead, knocking over Xuven before he coulduse his gnarled wand. The second quadruped, freaked out, ran off in turn.

Teleg had started running in the opposite direction. Pelmen struggled to get up, glancing atthe melepek. Led by Elisan-Finella, the animal turned too slowly. Fear was etched acrossLominan’s face. Biting his lower lip, Pelmen grabbed his bow. A thorn in the leg should stophim. Teleg’s yellowish buckles jumped on his shoulders. Sorry to do this, but you’ve left me nochoice... He had just notched when the buzzing inside his head grew louder. The air wassuddenly unbreathable, and everything was rotten. He fell to his knees, gasping. As Telegdisappeared into the curve of the narrow pass, the stabbing pains began to overwhelm Pelmen’sconsciousness.

The return to reality was as sharp as it was brutal. The pain was gone, cut at the root.Pelmen closed his mouth—his lips still quivering from the howl that had burst from his throat.Xuven stood leaning over him, his fingers lightly brushing the necklace he had passed around hisneck.

“Why did you let him escape? What for?” Hoarse and broken, Pelmen’s voice was that of astranger.

The sagging, gaunt faces of his uncle and Elisan-Finella spoke for themselves. He wanted to run after Teleg. He barely could walk. No, I’m not exhausted! I am not

starving with hunger; I am not thirsty. This is just an illusion. I must catch up with him! Xuven’s hand fell on his elbow, forcing him to turn. “Don’t do that, my boy,” he uttered in a scratchy voice. “All your efforts will only be used

to get you caught, to get us caught. Your friend...” It was no longer just fatigue burrowingXuven’s features. Sorrow was in his eyes, too. “Your friend is possessed by the energy of theImmolated. You won’t recapture him. Not in your present condition.”

“No,” said Pelmen. “That can’t be true. The necklace...”“The necklace does not heal!” said Xuven, losing his temper. “The necklace protects!

Teleg was secluded from Valshhyk’s power until he removed it. Of his own free will!” Xuvenlowered his eyes, and his voice softened. “I’m sorry Pelmen, terribly sorry, but if enough self-awareness and willpower had remained in him, we would have seen that yesterday after heawakened. Remember his look, then: lost, astray.”

Pelmen, staring into space, whispered without pausing a number of barely audible “no’s”.“He was in contact with the poisonous breath for far too long,” Xuven continued.

“Valshhyk’s mind knows no rest. Anyone would have yielded.” Pelmen turned slowly toward him. He would have cried if only there had been any

moisture left in his eyes. The lump in the throat almost prevented him from talking. “So, whathave we achieved?”

“You should know better than any of us, my boy. You’re the one who entered this city.”“So, Teleg is doomed, is he? Like all of them... All those who live in Sinista.”Xuven’s eyes widened. “What do you call this city?”“To be purified, one must first want it.”Elisan, always slender, was coming over to them after having dismounted. She had not lost

her fluidity despite the hardships—dehydration was whitening her wide mouth’s lips. Now, shestared right into Pelmen’s eyes as if her words were aimed at him in the first place.

“You! You did nothing. Nothing! Neither to cure him nor to stop him from fleeing!”“Finella didn’t have the strength, any more than I did. And to heal him, I repeat, it would

have been necessary for him to want that.”Her tone was so cool! So infuriating! And especially since she was probably right. Would

Teleg have accepted the need for someone to help him get rid of his Master? Pelmenremembered his friend’s spear of amberrock, thrown over the wall and left there, his house andhis chests of precious objects. It was mad to presume that Teleg would agree to give it all up! Noinhabitant of the dark city would willingly abandon his property. They had lost everything intheir first life, and Sinistan and his minions had given them everything they had ever dreamedabout, and more. Or so they thought. Former Disinherited’s loyalty to their “saviors” would beunwavering, whatever the practices of their suspicious partners.

Pelmen stood up painfully and turned around. He would have liked to stop the never-ending cycle of his thoughts from telling him that he had failed, that he had abandoned his bestfriend. That the master of fire and his henchmen had won, in the end. He passed Lominan,hunkering down on her melepek.

The nidepoux had not gone far, stopping in the steppe to burrow the ground with theirsnouts. Pelmen, soon joined by his three companions, walked into the plain. The wind whippedhim, bringing him back to his true self. He rubbed his bristly chin beard. The breath of Aolesseemed somehow to wake Teleg. Yet he chose to turn around, and that means he has changed.That very idea pierced his heart like the tip of a flint covered with frost, so much so he remaineda few moments inert, drained of all emotion. Meanwhile, his uncle struggled to gather the

nidepoux—doing it wrong. Wincing, Pelmen walked in his direction. He had to bait the animalswith plants cut from the ground to make them leave, resulting in further delays to their journeysouthward. However, with every step that they took, the air seemed purer and the yellow hue ofthe grass, less dull. Daylight decreased rapidly, clouds had covered the vast scarlet globe ofAstar. To Pelmen, it seemed that the darkness spreading over the land was an extension of thedarkness that descended upon his heart. In the late afternoon, it was as dark as if the Sun-Godhad already set. Thunder rolled, and the sky was streaked with lightning as rain poured from theclouds.

Eventually, the malians began to emerge from their stupor. Lominan blinked while Elisan-Finella raised two pairs of hands, palms open. After this first moment of gratitude, without anydelay the magician dismounted, seized the belenite bowl on the flank of her melepek and placedit on the ground. Then ascendant and respondent formed one of the Bubbles to which only theyknew the secret and were able to soak up the moisture from the air. They poured the content intothe container, and the water was colored turquoise.

“Empty your water-skins on the floor!” Elisan ordered. “Completely!” Complying with her request didn’t take long, given the meager state of the reserves. The

magicians invoked two new Bubbles of smaller size, which they set up overhanging the water-skins held at arm’s length by the hevelens. Water of exceptional purity flowed. Aware of the needto gradually accustom their stomachs, they forced themselves to drink in small sips. Elisan-Finella sat in her wide bowl, cross-legged, eyes closed under the soothing patter of rain. Her paleskin was gradually recovering its original blue-gray color. Moments later, Elisan sighed and itseemed she had to pluck up the courage to leave. She emptied the bowl, then filled it again witha new Bubble before motioning Lominan.

The mil’ser remained on the melepek, motionless. Elisan-Finella drew closer and took theyoung malian by the armpits, helping her down. Lominan’s facial features were expressionless.Her inability to communicate reminded Pelmen of Teleg, to such an extent that he wondered ifthe malian’s necklace of Cilamon had failed to protect her.

The apprentice stepped over the bowl, but the Turquoise Water did not have the effectobserved many times on her. Instead of calming down, she shrank a little more, and then beganto sob without being able to hold on. Elisan watched, seemingly unsurprised. Xuven was alsostaring at the mil’ser. The latter eventually hiccupped, sniffed, took a deep breath and looked atElisan.

“I... I saw Sinistan.” “So it was him,” nodded the feless’tu, causing Xuven to shoot her a puzzled glance. “Sit

down, apprentice. Sit down and tell us about that.”“Talk? I do not want to talk about that!” As her eyes stared at an indefinite point, Pelmen

was sure she wouldn’t speak anymore, so much so that he was startled when Lominan’s lipsstarted to move as if by themselves. “It was... it was horrible. Mital... became a living torch.Those flames! He carried... a whip. Sinistan had a whip, a whip of fire, which stirred andwinded, which was burning and scorched. He yelled... Yes, Mital woke up in the midst of theGreat Rift. He yelled and turned into... something... a being, a fire being.” She continued to sob.

Perplexed, Pelmen, turned to Xuven. “Yes, confirmed his uncle, there was a distant howl. We heard it.”“It was Mital,” said Lominan between sniffles. “One of the others with me in the carriage.”“One of the mil’ser?” asked Pelmen. “This fire being that you saw,” broke in Elisan. “Was it a nylev?”“This is... this is what it... what Sinistan called him, yes.”Xuven and Elisan stared at each other, in dismay. “What does it mean?” asked Pelmen.“Nothing good, my lad. Nothing good.”

“The Immolated regenerated part of his power,” stated Elisan. She was standing nearLominan and placed her right hand’s palm on the forehead of her apprentice, who finally agreedto sit in the bowl—or rather, dropped herself into it shuddering.

“It’s obvious,” said Pelmen. “He’s able to get into our dreams. To influence us.” Heswallowed. “To convert a friend into... something else.”

“What happened in the city?” asked Xuven. “You gave it the name Sinista, I think?”“Not just yet,” replied Pelmen. “First of all, let us eat.”Dragging his feet, he walked to his saddlebag, pulled out remnants of dried meat and tried

to present them to Elisan. Who made a gesture of denial. “Food is too deeply corrupted, attempting to purify it would be a waste of time. We must

get rid of that.”Pelmen felt a stabbing sensation tear through his heart as he forced himself to obey her. A

feverish search in the rain followed. They eventually found enough berries and mushrooms tomake the most frugal of meals. Pelmen enjoyed every bite, until the sour taste of red berries,whose juice seemed the best of liquors. His hunger partly alleviated, he told in a flat voice thestory of his journey into Sinista. Elisan turned her face at the reference to malians beingimmersed in mud while Lominan, having regained some liveliness from her bath in the belenitebowl, looked at him without hiding her disgust. She did not seem overly surprised.

Pelmen told of how he watched hevelen and malanite soldiers of Sinistan training, his fearthat he had been spotted by a crimson shaman and his subsequent flight, and how he burst intoTeleg’s house uninvited. “He almost pierced me with his spear when I woke him up,” he said inan even tone. “To convince him to go with me, I had to make him think his sister Alicene wasamong us. That’s not something I’m proud of.” He continued with the story of how he and Telegwithdrew into the depths of the amberrock mine, describing with a shudder the burned hevelensand malians and their stiff gait. While talking about Teleg’s delusions, he realized how thevisions of power and glory of the hevelen who became Sinistan’s carpenter were close to his owndreams—or at least those that had haunted him in recent nights.

His companions were watching him with dismay. Xuven, who had been silent up until thispoint, nodded.

“This is very good work. Now we know where our enemies’ vast resources come from.” “It’s not surprising that they have managed to trigger an exodus,” agreed Elisan. “The only

other known deposit is that of the amberrock Caverns, to the east of Lake Iogar.”Xuven’s gaze became absent, lost in the distance.“What do you think?” asked Pelmen. Xuven turned to him. “The closeness of this new amberrock mine and the Rift is unsettling.

It’s as if the God of Destruction is using enticement as a weapon.”“So what?”“According to all the records I’ve read and the stories told by the elders, he has never used

that—only force mattered to him. All this is very unusual.”“This change makes him all the more dangerous,” Elisan stated, to which Xuven nodded. Pelmen once again saw the flames dancing before his eyes, spreading aside to clear a path

to Sinista. He blinked and pushed back the memory with a shudder. “What was that?” asked Xuven. “Nothing,” said Pelmen. “I wish Valshhyk wouldn’t exist.”The silence weighed heavily upon them. The rain had stopped, replaced by the cool night

air. Pelmen rubbed his wet arms and moved. Lominan was studying her fragment of amberrockthoughtfully. Eventually, she stuffed it into her pants, a disillusioned fold marring the corners ofthe lips. The decision was quickly made to camp for the night. Everybody was exhausted, andthe beasts were moved in order to provide a protective circle so that there was a chance thateveryone would wake up in time, in the event of an invasion. Pelmen didn’t approve of putting

the mounts at risk, however his eyelids were so heavy that he didn’t have the strength to argue.As soon as he lay down, he fell asleep. Astar was at his zenith when he woke from his slumberthe following morning. Xuven and Elisan-Finella were busy preparing the nidepoux and themelepek. Lominan was for her part sitting quietly cross-legged in the belenite bowl. The sky wasbright yellow, washed clean from the previous day’s clouds. The Uncrossable Mountains’ firstfoothills loomed much more significantly. Behind the steep peaks, in the heart of the Canyons inthe city of Alveg, Alicene was waiting for news of her brother. Pelmen bit his lower lip.

“Where are we going?” he asked, grasping a handful of mushrooms handed to him by hisuncle.

“The Three Rocks encampment,” Xuven replied. “The Cilamenites should be the first to bewarned. They are the ones on the frontline.”

“If only there were a way to find Teleg and make him see sense...” Pelmen broke off mid-sentence upon seeing Elisan’s disapproving gaze. “I know, I know, he should want to freehimself of Valshhyk,” he sighed.

They walked at a slow pace the rest of the day. The nidepoux frequently stopped to dig thesoil and feed on sprouts and roots. Xuven and Elisan-Finella would have liked to go faster, buttheir mounts were still recovering, and Pelmen urged the others to show mercy upon them. Hecould sense their weariness nearly as well as his own, guessing their mood at an inclination ofsnout or at a sniff.

In the early evening, they paused for the night. Pelmen tied his nidepoux to a cactus andwent hunting. When Lominan rejoined him striding, he barely even glanced in her direction. Aconcerned fold crossing out his forehead, his lips closed, he was trying in vain to smell the air—the necklace of Cilamon prevented him from opening up to odors. After a while, Lominan’s clearvoice rose.

“You have shown great courage in going for your friend in this... this place.”Pelmen replied with an indefinite growl. “I could not have. I wonder how you did that.”He shot her a warning look, and they both walked on in silence. Astar was now half

immersed under the skyline—Pelmen was sheltering his eyes to enhance his visibility. Althoughthe Halenor had taught him to use all his senses under such circumstances, he was missing thesense of smell.

He shook his head. Turning toward Lominan, who at her full height, towered over him,Pelmen looked up. The snub nose, as strange it was along with her two lone nostrils, combinedwith her glittering emerald irises and the dimple on her chin would probably have made herpretty—for a malian, at least—had not the right corner of her mouth been most often marred by abitter fold. “I didn’t need courage. I had no other choice.”

“But you were the one to get it right. By refusing the amberrock.”Pelmen smile reflected his bitterness. “I know what you’re trying to do.”“Oh yeah?” said Lominan whose complexion turned dark blue.“What use is that, when it’s going to be me that tells Teleg’s sister what happened.”“And what exactly did happen?” Lominan retorted without giving him a chance to answer.

“Your friend ran away, so what? You are not accountable for his decisions.”“DON’T YOU SEE THAT TELEG IS RUNNING TOWARD HIS DOOM?”Lominan recoiled. For his part, Pelmen clenched his fists until the joints whitened, a fire

burning in his eyes as he struggled to control his raging emotions. “I am fully aware of what is going on there,” she said in a trembling voice. “Excuse me,” he said. “If only I had not played this like... like a hungry nidepoux in a

stainflowers’ garden. I should have tried to convince him rather than forcing the matter.” Lominan’s facial expression reflected her disapproval. “You acted in an emergency. Why

blame yourself?”

“I ... I had given my word to his sister.”“Big deal! But you’re not the only one involved. We all played a part in what happened. Let

me remind you that neither I nor your uncle or Elisan-Finella was able to prevent your friendfrom escaping.”

Pelmen didn’t reply and motioned to continue. Twilight was waning when he turned againtoward the malian. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You know, I think that if...” A sudden trampling interrupted her. She turned her head, and her eyes widened.Pelmen reacted in a flash. Grabbing her by the waist, he drew her so hard that she lost her

balance and collapsed. At the very spot where they had stood less than a second before, horns of ivory met the

vacuum they had left behind. Unable to stop, the monster sped past. Pelmen leaned bluntly on the mil’ser to pull himself to his feet. The growl of

disappointment close by ruffled his feathers. With a move repeated a thousand times during his exercises along with Symen Halenor, he

seized his bow and notched. Shoulders prominent, curved horns on the forehead and low black spotted coat to the back,

what could only be a sanrkhas was huddled, the drool dripping from its bared teeth. He leapedwhen Pelmen released his thorn. Sinking into the half-open mouth, the arrow broke themomentum of the predator, which fell back on Lominan.

She screamed. Impervious to pain, the beast had just closed his teeth on the malian’s flank.Incredulously, Pelmen dropped his bow. Cold anger seized him as he grasped the thin

fragment of flint still usable in his belt—the stone would be forever linked to that memory ofhim knocking Teleg unconscious. He threw himself on the sanrkhas that had still not let go and,his left arm under his neck struck him with the right hand. The sticky blood splashed and spreadover Lominan, but Pelmen refused to stop. His forehead drenched with sweat, he continued topunch the side of the beast, ever more deeply despite the pain in his shoulder, despite his flintcutting his fingers. Finally, he felt the carcass stiffen. Then, ignoring Lominan’s intensifyingscreams, he removed the wet jaws of the creature and threw it aside before slumping down,exhausted.

Lominan’s cries were now interspersed with sobs. Although the anatomy of malians wasnot familiar to him, Pelmen estimated after a quick review the wound, not to be a serious one.Fortunately, the thorn across his palate had hindered the sanrkhas, preventing him from doingmore damage. Pelmen took Lominan’s cool hand and patted it. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“That’s easy... for you to say” she moaned, triggering a smile from Pelmen. Even in timesof drama, the malian continued to contradict him.

“It’s time to return to camp,” he said. Lominan did not react. Rather than insisting, he bent over the remains illuminated by the day’s last reddening rays.

The frenzied expression on the features of the sanrkhas wasn’t unknown to him, he had alreadynoticed it in the animals affected by the reeks of the Great Rift. Those who yielded to the powerof Valshhyk no longer considered their instinct, devoted body and soul to the urge to kill or tothe fascination with the abyss. Such corrupted animals were acting on an individual basis,without any respect for their life. The flesh of this one, poisoned, was worthless. Pelmen tried tocollect the precious horns by pulling them out with his piece of flint before facing the fact: hewould lose too much time.

“Come on! The smell of blood may attract other animals. We must get away.”Lominan groaned but rolled over and tried to get back on her feet. Pelmen helped her.

Hobbling, they returned to the camp.

Chapter Two – SACRIFICES

In turn the two moons, Tinmal and Hamal, found themselves hidden by the cloud cover.The swirling wind made Pelmen’s hair flutter—Lominan, like all malians didn’t have any hair.

Xuven and then Elisan-Finella rushed towards them. Pelmen greeted them with agrimacing smile. Lominan groaned again, and Pelmen helped the fused to support the injuredmalian for a few more steps.

“Are you all right?” Xuven asked his nephew.“The sanrkhas attacked Lominan.” They dropped off the apprentice close to the melepek.

Elisan, in deep concentration, joined her fingers in a circle and soon, the center of the circlestarted to show a bluish glow.

Pelmen recounted in a few words what had happened while a Bubble began to take shape.Stabilizing, it floated above Lominan’s closed hands on her injury. Pelmen quickly moved themapart. The Bubble made several two-way trips brushing past the wound, after which Xuven, whohad gone to fetch a water-skin, cleaned Lominan’s mauve stained skin. Lominan’s moans hadweakened.

“Are you sure that the sanrkhas was corrupted?” asked Xuven, righting himself. “An animal that were not possessed would have protected itself against that,” said Pelmen,

displaying the bloody fragment of flint. “I hit him over and over again but nothing worked, ittook its anger out on Lominan.” Pelmen shook his head. “That was its downfall.” He tried tomake out his uncle’s expression, but it was too dark.

“Let us hope this was an isolated attack,” commented Xuven. Something in his tone troubled Pelmen, and it seemed to him that Elisan was also

examining Xuven, perplexed.“What do you mean by that?” he asked thoughtfully. “You think... it could have been sent

on our track?”“I wonder. The smell of sulfur has never made the creatures of the steppe smart. Quite the

contrary, in fact... But so many things are changing. We’ll have to protect ourselves and fast!” Grabbing his gnarled wand, Xuven carefully conjured up a cavity in the ground. Then, he

gathered the earth around the base of the stick. On his instruction, the air currents of the steppebecame focused like on an anchor before surrounding the companions and their animals,isolating the bodily smells that could have betrayed their presence.

Their stomachs barely soothed by a meager meal made of plants, they lay down for thenight. Elisan-Finella used magic once again, and soon disappeared behind a curtain of humiditythat also encompassed Lominan and the melepek. The next day, as soon as the spell ofCamouflage was dispelled, Pelmen went to ask about Lominan’s health. The young apprenticegave him a reassuring gesture. All that remained was a series of dark blue dots where thesanrkhas’ fangs had dug into her flesh. Sitting cross-legged, and with eyes closed, Elisan-Finellaheld her hands apart.

“The Bubble of Vision,” Lominan said following Pelmen’s gaze. “She is exploring thesurroundings.”

Pelmen lowered his chin. Elisan-Finella’s eyelids opened, and then the fused straightened.“They are following us,” she dropped icily. “Fifty, at least. They have warriors and crimsonshamans.”

“So soon? How can this be?”Elisan’s cobalt eyes settled on Pelmen. “Your friend is among them. Alongside Sinistan.”

Pelmen blanched. “I do not understand, he whispered... How Teleg managed to warn themso quickly...”

“Our advance?” asked Xuven. Maybe his skin too had become pale, but otherwise he kepthis composure.

“Half a day,” replied Elisan. “No more.” “The only explanation is that they were already on our trail before Teleg rejoined them,”

Xuven said. “Our little trick was not enough to deceive them for long.” “Why are we waiting?” said Lominan. “The melepek will have to be abandoned,” pointed Elisan. “And with it the bowl.” Finella’s warm voice rose. The respondent’s face was rounder and her limbs plumper than

Elisan’s. “We cannot offer it to them. The artifact is too precious.” “Yet what your ascendant said is true,” argued Xuven, “the melepek will not hold the

rhythm.”“Make up your minds!” pressed Lominan. Elisan raised a hand to silence them. “We have to make a detour to the northeast. A few

leagues from here, a large rock has the proper inclination.”“You plan to hide the bowl?” murmured Finella. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”“Northeast will bring us closer to the Uncrossable Mountains,” declared Xuven. “It will be

easier to hide there. Unfortunately, our enemies will think the same and will most certainly lookfor us there.”

“That’s a risk we must take. Let’s not delay anymore,” said Elisan. Xuven agreed, and they set off, led by the feless’tu. They were walking slowly because of

the melepek. Pelmen decided to go forward in search of game—if we must fight, let’s do it with afull stomach. He had put the necklace of Cilamon in his game-bag so that the smell of the stonyplain flowed to the smallest nuances. Scents of stones, lichens, insects. Of life. Soon, heidentified the musky signature of a pair of ptats who thought they could escape.

Some time later, he rejoined Xuven and the malians near what could have been the crest ofsome colossal creature. The rock signaled by the fused, oddly fragmented, was pushed obliquelyinto the earth. While Pelmen cut-up his prey—it would not be the first time he would eat rawflesh—Elisan-Finella, assisted by Lominan, relieved the melepek of the bowl. Xuven, and thenPelmen came to help bury it. Their task was made easier by the presence of an apparentlyabandoned den in the hollow of the granitic spur.

“Lominan, retrieve the skins,” ordered Elisan as soon as they were finished. “I’ll take thesaddlebags.”

“They are approaching,” said Finella absently. “They sent scouts to the steppe, but the bulkof the troops are heading towards us.” The respondent had her eyes closed.

Pelmen and Lominan glanced at each other while Xuven remained impassive. Perhaps tohide his own fear, Pelmen pressed the trembling arm of the young malian. She turned her face,then closed her hand nervously on the fragment of amberrock in her belt. He wanted to grind histeeth. She must not even realize that she’s doing it.

Once the melepek unloaded, Elisan stood before her mount’s muzzle and issued a series ofguttural syllables, designating the nearby cliffs. The animal walked hesitantly, its steps becomingmore determined as soon as the magician confirmed the order.

“What will become of him?” Pelmen inquired.“It will melt away in the mountains,” said Elisan. “With a bit of luck, it will not be

discovered.” Xuven had mounted his nidepoux, and Pelmen did the same. Both kicked their heels, and

the giant rodents leaped forward. The malians, meanwhile, ran with great strides in the samedirection, southeast, keeping away from the path of the melepek. It was not long before Xuven

and Pelmen pulled the ears of their mounts as Elisan-Finella already lagged behind. Xuven’s facehardened. Pelmen opened his mouth to mutter a caustic comment, but stopped himself at the lastmoment. It’s not when one’s got a headwind that one blows in the same direction.

The outline of a rock could be seen in the distance, and Xuven set his sights on it. The walk was irregular in the following hours, continually interspersed with nervous

glances backward. Elisan-Finella and Lominan frequently placed their lips on their water-skin’sneck. The leaps and bounds of the nidepoux were always painful to bear so that Pelmen wasalmost relieved to have to slow down to wait for their companions. Once they drew closer, theyrealized that the peak was surrounded by rocks strewn on the ground. Looking up, Pelmen wasno longer able to make out the top. From a given height, mists girded the immutable giant.

The quadrupeds hissed, indicating the need to dismount if they didn’t want to wear themout completely. Xuven followed Pelmen’s lead. The terrain was steep, and the slope becamemore pronounced a little further along the line. Pelmen turned.

Dust was rising on the horizon. He saw his own dismay reflected upon the faces of hiscompanions. At the same time, they rushed down the steep path that led them to the bed of asmall mountain stream where the malians, relieved, plunged their feet. Pelmen remained with hisuncle on the stony shore and noted that the motions of the magician feless’tu and her apprenticehad become livelier despite the contrary current. The water was freezing. Narrowing his nostrils,he considered the grayskins’ serene appearance.

A few hundred yards forward, the mountain stream began to wind, stuck between the cliffsof one of the Uncrossable Mountains and a granite plateau whose slope, soft at the base, wasstraightening toward the heights. Xuven held out his gnarled wand while moving between thelarge rocks—obviously, he had appealed to the Sign of Aoles. His uncle stopped so abruptly thatPelmen overtook him a double stride before stopping in turn.

“A cart,” he said. “Coming from the opposite direction. If we continue on this path, we’llmeet.”

“So what?” said Lominan while bending to fill her water-skins. “We’ll just warn the driverof the danger without pausing.”

“This is not a trade route,” replied Xuven gravely. “The most likely destination of thecart...”

“Is Sinista,” completed Elisan. “Quick! We have to hide.”There were many rocks behind which to shelter, however as an additional precaution,

Xuven guided his companions to the back of the plateau, where the slope was accentuated. Themalians were struggling, their webbed feet being poorly adapted to climbing. Encouraged byPelmen, the nidepoux progressed with their usual tenacity despite the pebbles that rolled beneaththeir feet. Having reached the bottom of the cleft, they halted. A little further up along the wall, adiscreet opening offered an outlook over the pass below. Xuven, however, studied the scenery inthe opposite direction, the side where the mountain faced a steep bank.

“Now is the time to go and reconnoiter the ground,” he said. “We can do that without us moving,” Elisan replied. Accustomed to the peculiarities of the fused malanites language, Pelmen knew that by

“we” Elisan was referring to herself and Finella.“To each his methods,” said Xuven. “Up there, I’ll be in a better position to pick up odors

and decide what to do.” The terrain was gradually sloping, and Pelmen realized that his uncle was banking on

being able to climb to the top, where he would eventually overhang the opposite cliff. Ignoringthe frowned arches of the ascendant, Xuven began climbing. Pelmen was about to follow him,but the gray eyes stopped him.

“Wait for me here. And not a sound until my return.”

The words were barely out of Xuven’s mouth when the sound of remote wheels reachedthem. He did not take offense and soon disappeared under the cover of the mountain.

Elisan placed herself opposite the opening so that Finella would miss nothing of the arrivalof the cart. The ascendant joined her palms and the tips of her fingers in a sphere.

Lominan scanned the rocky path from where the first echoing sounds of the cart came.According to the whims of the wind, the sound, mingled with the mountain stream flow, waseither weakened and distant or on the contrary so close that it was almost deafening. Astar wasno longer exactly at his zenith and Pelmen thought of their enemies. He tried to calculate thedistance they had covered since the first raising of dust. With a slow gesture, he grabbed his bowand thorn.

Finally, the cart appeared. Long and pulled by four nidepoux it was covered with atarpaulin. To the left of the driver, a second hevelen armed with a spear threw cautious glances atthe sides. Pelmen sent a silent prayer to Aoles for the newcomers not to smell any revealing odor.Just before the carriage disappeared noisily behind a rock, he caught a glimpse of the rear andwrinkled his nostrils. The Disinherited were piled there, shirtless and emaciated as a result ofhardship.

To think that I was one of them. The unfortunate don’t know that it’s their soul that theycome to trade with the amberrock. Pelmen had the galcynebumps. He also had an unpleasanttaste in the mouth—as if as a result of his inaction, he had made himself an accessory to the darkdeal.

Lominan turned to him, her face animated. He shook his head, and she looked over hershoulder. Her still hopeful face darkened almost immediately. Finella had confirmed the need towait. Lominan’s attitude was not surprising, as in the past she had shown on various occasionsthat she was rebellious and inclined to flee from danger.

This time, however, Pelmen understood her. If he had felt that he had no other option, hetoo would have been in a hurry to run off and put as much distance between him and theirpursuers as possible. To witness their arrival helplessly was not a prospect that delighted him.

Time passed with no trace of Xuven in the air. What could possibly be delaying him? Iwonder if... Pelmen grimaced, raising a hand to his nose. The stench of sulfur. The miasma wasspreading through his lungs. Pretty soon, he was overwhelmed by the thoughts that he had so farmanaged to keep under control. The game is up. This time they are on to us. We are easy prey, soeasy for their shamans. It’s all just a game for them. Pelmen was prostrate with fear, the certaintyof imminent defeat and futility of resistance growing in him with every passing second, claspinghis heart as would the jaw of a sanrkhas.

“Are you all right?” asked Lominan, worried. His eyes widened. His breathing turned to pants as his headache resurfaced, more stabbing

and debilitating than ever. It was as if someone was trying to snatch every last one of histhoughts away from him. His hands searched clumsily for his game-bag, clearing a path, closingon the necklace of Cilamon. With Lominan watching him with a puzzled expression on her face,he shakily fastened the artifact around his neck. The tiny orange gems embedded into knots ofthe cilamen wood emitted a pale glow. His thoughts suddenly brightened, and fear loosened itsgrip on him.

Finella was also watching him with curiosity. Clearly the malians’ less developed sense ofsmell had not warned them of the atmosphere’s toxicity.

Pelmen nodded to the respondent, and Finella grabbed her necklace. The object wasdistended when she pulled it around her slender neck and that of her ascendant.

“You do well,” Elisan whispered in a voice devoid of intonation. “The shamans... haveurns. A strange fire is burning there. The smoke that escapes from it doesn’t disperse with thewind as it should. It spreads through the air.”

In her haste to imitate Finella, Lominan almost let slip her necklace.

Elisan turned. “This is serious,” she said. “In the steppe, sentries are heading to the cliffoverlooking us.” She pointed to the cliff to the west of the mountain. “As for their main forces,they seem determined to follow the pass below. The junction with the cart will not slow themdown for long.”

“Xuven was right,” said Pelmen. “They knew that they would find us here.”“That’s because there’s water here,” said Finella. “We can’t wait for Xuven,” said Elisan. “We need to make a decision quickly. Your...” She

paused as rocks came crashing down on top of them, and Xuven appeared, his necklace ofCilamon swaying on his neck.

“They have scouts,” he gasped. “I had to hurry down under the cliff to avoid beingspotted.”

“Why don’t we leave?” moaned Lominan, on the verge of hysteria. Pelmen stared at her reproachfully. “There are sanrkhas to the southwest of here,” said Xuven. “Lots of sanrkhas.” His news had the effect of an icy burst. Elisan shot him a piercing stare while Lominan

stared blankly at him, her arms dangling. Pelmen’s pupils dilated. “They are moving in packs, so I do not believe them to be corrupt—the smell of Valshhyk

tends to break them away. They are, however, no less dangerous.”“So we’re trapped,” muttered Pelmen.“Not quite.” Xuven smoothed his beard in a familiar gesture. His eyes sparkled. “Before

the crimson shamans cast their poison cloud over us, I had time to prepare a little surprise forsome of our enemies: the scouts, in this instance. We will soon be rid of them and able to flee.But for now, we must wait without being detected.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Elisan.“As luck would have it,” replied Xuven, smiling, “the smell of hevelen flesh has reached

the sanrkhas and will lead them straight to the scouts. We just have to wait until the animals startfighting each other for prey and then slip by unnoticed.”

“Well done,” said Pelmen.“It’s all too uncertain,” countered Elisan. “This will spark chaos and the sanrkhas can still

reach us.”“We cannot risk being too close to Sinistan and his minions,” added Finella. “They will be

on our tail in no time at all.” “What do you recommend?” asked Xuven coldly. “You have no other choice but to stick to your plan.” Elisan turned to Lominan. “Come

here.”Lominan considered her mistress, then Pelmen. She pursed her lips and took a step toward

the feless’tu. “Closer,” commanded Elisan. Then, once again, turning to Xuven she said “As long as

there’s no crimson shaman among the scouts to sniff out our power we should succeed in gettingaround unnoticed. But as soon as we start to move, we will limit our possibilities, and,unfortunately, our Bubble will not encompass you. You are both going to have to escape on yourown. We are sorry.” Pelmen wondered if the ascendant’s attitude really suggested regret. He hadmuch to learn about the malians. Lominan, with her half-closed eyes and turning her head toavoid his gaze, was easier to read—and there was no reason to be glad about that.

Without further delay, Finella brought together both her hands, palms, and fingers, andElisan did the same. A curtain of humidity wrapped the grayskins so that one could no longerdistinguish anything but the rock where they stood a moment before. A small stone overhangingbroke away, and Pelmen heard Finella’s whispering to Lominan. “Hold on to my arm.”

Pelmen turned to his uncle, his jaws clenched. “Nice team spirit,” he snapped between histeeth.

“Leave them alone. I already told you, females only bring problems. We cannot count onthem.”

“But where are they headed?”“A little higher along the mountain, there’s a steep promontory that forms a sort of natural

bridge to the cliff. You can climb over and reach the steppe.”“The steppe? But the watchers came from there! They are bound to monitor this passage!”“The promontory is slightly below the cliff. From up there, you would only see it by

nearing the edge. They will only guard it if they already know it exists or if they find it bychance. Now silence!”

The sound of trampling could be heard over the wind, and Astar’s glow shone onamberrock. Sinistan’s warriors formed a troupe as mismatched as the buildings of Sinista.Hevelens and malians walked in a disorderly manner, wearing simple rags or rich surcoatsbeneath their glittering armor. Where those sensibly-minded would have warily considered thesurrounding’s rocks, they showed an unshakable confidence, advancing straight ahead,brandishing their spears or spiky clubs. Most of them had the gait and movements of trainedfighters, but their eyes weren’t moving. By contrast, the three shamans behind them wereconstantly scrutinizing the relief.

We are in the shadow of the mountain, the daylight’s glare dazzles them and the smell ofsulfur covers ours. Pelmen tightened his grip on his bow. From the pass, no normal hevelenwould be able to see him and his uncle. The beings whose faces were horribly burned under theircassocks’ hoods, however, had unknown powers. They were positioned in an arc so as, itseemed, to protect two silhouettes who towered over them. As different as could be, the twomalians strode across the land with the confidence of Aguerris in conquered territory. One,undulating in a dark shimmering fabric, wielded a daunting spear tipped with serratedamberrock. His smooth movements suggested the mastery and experience that only numerousfights could have provided.

Regnan.The second individual, dressed in a white tunic decorated with rubies and whose high

collar concealed the lower face, also had an eerily familiar look. From where he stood, Pelmencould not make out the mark of infamy in the shape of a double-headed serpent burned onSinistan’s forehead. He nonetheless knew that this was the malian he had seen in the flames, themalian who several months ago in Belenia had been described to him by Xuven. The Marked.

The vanguard was already out of sight. One of the nidepoux fidgeted behind Pelmen, whoquickly wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. Despite the cool air in the shadow of the rock,his skin was damp. Xuven’s breathing proved barely perceptible as if he too was holding hisbreath.

Keep walking... Begone! Sinistan, who until now had been moving at a regular pace, stopped suddenly. He raised his

hand, and the troop halted as one hevelen. Pelmen blanched. Had the enemy somehow managed to pick up on his thoughts? Two

shamans turned to their master, eager for any sign. Sinistan leaned to one side as if listening. Amoment later he straightened and fixed his gaze on the mountain. Pelmen cast a frightenedglance at Xuven. His uncle had not moved an eyelash.

Sinistan slid his hand down to his belt, unfurling a whip that glowed incandescently. ToPelmen, the crimson glow wasn’t unlike some fire lash that had fallen just short of its mark onenight near Port Subelin, ages ago.

Its consistency is different. This one seems more solid.Sinistan had apparently decided to review his fighters. After having walked a few moments

between the ranks he grunted in satisfaction, pulling the arm of a hevelen with yellowish hair,one of the few not equipped with armor. Pelmen tried unsuccessfully to swallow. He should have

expected to find him there, of course. As despicable as the idea was, he would have preferredhim to get back to the city of the Immolated. Sinistan jolted the carpenter with such force thatPelmen almost shouted Teleg’s name. He bit his lower lip and a bead of blood appeared, whichhe licked without thinking. Something heavy was resting on his shoulder, perhaps Xuven’s hand.

“It’s useless to resort to the pitiful magic of water!” Sinistan’s roar echoed through thepass, so hoarse and distorted that it was difficult to believe that the voice belonged to a malian.“Yes, I can feel that you are making use of it right now!” he triumphed. “I could hunt you downwherever you go! Flush you, one by one, out of your wretched ptats holes!” He paused andPelmen felt as if the look of the possessed was running through the shadow, exposing him. “But Ihave no time to lose in childishness.” With his free hand, he lifted up Teleg face-high, who didnot try to struggle. He presented him in front of the plateau. “I think you know him.” There wasnow a kind of greedy glee in his voice. The whip, as if moving by its own will, winded untilbrushing past the young hevelen’s face.

“One of my most faithful servants. What a pity that he should perish!” Again, a break. Total silence in the pass. On the slopes of the mountain, Aoles himself was

holding his breath. The incandescent lash seemed about to touch Teleg. The latter remainedmotionless, silently accepting his fate.

“You will have his death on your conscience... Unless... unless of course you come out ofyour hiding place. SHOW YOURSELF!”

In a surge as violent as sudden, Pelmen pushed aside Xuven’s hand. His mighty musclesstretched the bowstring. He aimed and triggered the shot so quickly that one would think that hehad acted instinctively—how many times had he repeated the act in thought in the seconds thatpreceded! Springing from the shadows, the deadly thorn swooped upon Sinistan’s face.

There was a fiery flash followed by a raucous roar. Sinistan had retreated two steps away. He had dropped Teleg and raised his hand to his

cheek.The whip. It’s the whip that deflected the thorn, damn it! How was that even possible?The weapon twisted about itself in a hypnotic movement. Someone grabbed Pelmen by the arm. Though baffled, he did not try to resist being drawn

in by his uncle. They scampered along the slope on the western front of the mountain, climbingto relative safety, just before the universe collapsed into chaos. The first deafening explosionreverberated deeply, and caused rocks to begin tumbling around them. Then, Astar himself triedto engulf them. Blocked by terrain, the blinding molten ball inched its way into view. Thoughonly its outline showed, it competed for an instant with the Sun-God’s intensity exploding in adoomsday’s roar. Pelmen and Xuven would have been thrown away if they hadn’t pressedthemselves against the rock. Still, a tongue of fire licked them, scorching their skin. Bits andpieces of rock flew everywhere, and the dust rose high into the sky before starting to dissipate.Pelmen’s ears whistled, and all his hair bristled. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically—that of a fish out of water. He got the impression that the hevelen whose leather tunic wascovered with ocher and whose blood had been drained from his face had spoken to him.

He ignored him, opening his eyes wide while trying to catch his breath. Where there hadbeen a ledge, only a gaping hole remained. The nidepoux probably hadn’t suffered, blown tens ofyards down and buried under rock—at least, they heard no complaint. In the distance, however,someone was hurling abuse.

Sinistan. Despite the ringing in his ears that prevented him from fully understanding themeaning of the words, Pelmen, gradually recovering his senses, guessed the reason for hisenemy’s fury. By collapsing part of the cliff, the explosion had made it impossible to climb.Meaning that while Pelmen and his uncle could no longer turn back, their enemies couldn’t getto them either from their current position.

May Aoles have them search for our corpses instead! They would lose hours, days perhaps,searching the rubble.

Pelmen locked eyes with Xuven, who nodded and motioned to follow him in silence. Bothwere shaking while trying to find the most reliable supports on the slope. In turn, remorse,sadness and anger vied with fear in Pelmen. As a result, his surroundings were altered into ahazy and fragmented dream. The quadrupeds had been loyal companions. The Deadroot marsh,the Forest of Shadows, the Bitterhills region... so many sinister and dangerous lands thenidepoux had helped them cross with courage and tenacity. It was an understatement to say thathe and Xuven owed them a lot. At this very moment, Teleg may have suffered the wrath ofSinistan too, Pelmen realized in horror. By Aoles, my impulsive gesture probably doomed us all.What the hell came over me? Their power is too great.

Before him, Xuven slowed, hesitating. Pelmen forced himself to look more closely at thescenery, his nostrils quivering even though he was unable to pick up any odors. They would soonreach the level of the cliff where the Windy Steppes stopped. Gripped in shadows for the mostpart, the promontory that served as a bridge was only about ten yards long. As was specified byXuven, the block of granite advanced under the cliff to a place where a slender-tree’s goldenroots could be seen. By grasping them, it should be relatively easy to climb to the top. Theapparently unoccupied tree would conceal their approach. What would follow, though, was goingto be considerably more dangerous. Unless Elisan-Finella managed to create a diversion—whichwas unlikely—the scouts dispatched into the area would not fail to spot them.

Xuven continued to climb the ledge eagerly. Pelmen frowned when his uncle passed therock without stopping. Attractive targets. That’s what we’ll be, hanging on to this mountain likeinsects just waiting to be pinned.

To attract Xuven’s attention, he would have had to raise his voice, and he dared not—ifElisan was right, their enemies were too close. The promontory was there. To jump over it andreach the slender-tree would be a matter of a few moments. Under the cover of roots, he couldwait for night to come...

Pelmen whispered an expletive, before hurrying after his uncle. As much as Xuven had theannoying habit of keeping most of what was on his mind for himself, it did not make him ahevelen likely to act thoughtlessly... In ordinary times, but what if he too was panicking?

Pelmen rejected that idea as ridiculous. Besides, his concentration was required elsewhere,as while he was sometimes able to walk along the slope, most of the time he had no choice, butto crawl on his hands and knees. A guttural intonation rose suddenly, and he raised his chinexpectantly. Just a little higher up the slope, Xuven was waving his gnarled wand toward thecliff.

“Press up, my boy!” he cried. Pelmen gritted his teeth before eventually rejoining his uncle. The steppe and its clear

horizon stretched out in front of the mountain. Lying at the foot of the slender-tree, he was ableto make out the body of a hevelen. Silhouettes, large enough to be malians, were rushing up, andwere followed by smaller, stockier beings. All of which converged on the tree.

“Where are we going?” gasped Pelmen.He turned to his uncle, only to find that he had disappeared. He caught sight of him a little

higher climbing as if his life depended on it. Once again, Pelmen rushed and had succeeded onlyin grazing his hands and knees before he realized that panicking would not help him. Forcinghimself to breathe more normally, he tried to figure out his best course of action.

Shock and the vibration almost broke his grip. Fresh liquid ran down his thigh and for amoment, Pelmen wondered if it was his own blood. His eyeballs rolled in their orbits, toward hisinjury.

Thanking Aoles, he realized that the thorn had merely pierced his water-skin, ending up inhis game-bag. Pelmen exhaled. No need to see him to be sure that the enemy archer had him in

his line of sight. The terrain around him was steep, except for... a few yards just below, a littlewider support than the others. He came down as fast as he could, settled his tiptoe and turned tolean against the rock. The wind whipped, but he stood firm. A burst scratched his cheek when thefollowing arrow ricocheted just inches from his face.

His aim is accurate. I will not be so lucky the third time.Pelmen freed his bow from his shoulder and grabbed a thorn. The shooter, a hevelen, was

posted to the right of the slender-tree, a little lower on the edge of the steppe, at about a hundredyards. Not far away, a malian was running fast toward the abyss, a spear in his hand.

“My turn,” Pelmen whispered. He cleared his mind, hearing the beating of his heart with asurprising detachment. Dum-dum. Dum-dum. There, the light-brown haired hevelen wasstretching his bowstring. His studded armor shone with gold and scarlet.

The air vibrated with a limpid sound. Pelmen’s shooting was clear and accurate, the thornpiercing the throat of the enemy, who staggered under the impact and released his last arrow. Atthe same time, the malian threw his spear, which also crashed against the face under Pelmen.

The beanpole screamed with rage. Not remotely concerned about the fact that his comradein arms was at death’s door, he scanned the cliffs of the mountain. Pelmen saw him freeze whenhe spotted the promontory. A growl escaped the lips of the mil’ser just before he bounced into thevoid. He flattened his hands on the rock, landing heavily.

Another danger, however, had already appeared. At the periphery of Pelmen’s field of view,a new archer tried to take aim at him.

Pelmen was the quickest. His first thorn pierced the shoulder, and the second bounced backthe hevelen’s wader.

Symen would have been proud of me, thought Pelmen with a fixed grin at the sight of hisvictim writhing in pain and uttering animal’s growls. About Master Galn, it’s less certain...

He wrinkled his nostrils. It seems that my troubles are just beginning. Five newcomers,attracted by the screams of their comrade, were rushing up at full speed. Five archers. At thebottom of the slope, the malian had started climbing. Although slowed by his webbed feet, hewas already no more than sixty yards from him.

“By all the nidepoux’s dung!” blurted Pelmen, putting his bow back on his shoulder andturning to face the cliff. His fingers worked feverishly as they sought support points. He climbed,his mind already beginning to compute his chances of survival based on the remaining distancebetween his enemies and the foot of the cliff and their shooting range. They would pin him as acreepy-crawly. It was inevitable.

Pelmen threw all that he had into climbing. If he only had one chance in a thousand, hewould still have attempted it. A thorn swished and sang. A second touched him at the bottom ofhis left arm. His guts knotted irresistibly as he raised imploring eyes. His uncle stood on the topof the mountain. Inexplicably, it was toward the sky that he was pointing his gnarled wand.

His wound near the wrist was only superficial, however, despair consumed Pelmen. It’sonly a matter of seconds. He was so slow now, so bundled up in this carcass that weighed on himlike armor. His sweaty fingers slipped on their catch. Wheezing, he wondered if the fatal thornwould pass entirely through him or stop halfway, whether his death would be an instant one oron the contrary if his agony would be prolonged. What his last thoughts would be.

His hands groped around and met only the void. There was a clear space above. A cornice.He knew that his enemies would not let him go—in their shoes, he would have denied himselfthe same escape—yet, still, he began to lift himself with the strength of his arms.

To his immense surprise, at the cost of a tremendous strain, he succeeded. With theexception of this slash on the forearm and multiple abrasions, he was unharmed. As he gavehimself a few seconds to breathe, puzzled growls and roars went up to him. He straightened upand knew why he had survived. Out there on the steppe, the sanrkhas had gone on the attack.Obsessed with their target, the bowmen had not detected their approach. One of them pierced by

a pair of horns managed to throw himself back but was unable to stop the blood escaping fromhis dual injury. Drained of any force, he wavered before falling to his knees and collapsing. Thebeasts rushed for the kill.

The last two hunters faced a second group of these gray coated predators spotted withblack. The beasts surrounded them. A thorn went, and one of the sanrkhas reared up growling.His brothers in the pack rushed to the attack. In the melee, Pelmen knew that the hevelens had nochance.

“To your right!”Pelmen didn’t wait to see the tall silhouette and the golden red blade before throwing

himself back. Some of his hair, sliced clean by the amberrock dagger, flew. The great malianturned toward him. Froth was dripping from his lips. In his eyes, a crimson glow. His skin hungin shreds on his arms, revealing mauve raw flesh.

“Get down!”Pelmen did not have to be told twice.“Halneven!”The malian’s face became deformed by the impact of something invisible. He flailed, and

then fell. The soft sound of the bouncing body gradually weakened. Pelmen felt suddenly asdried and hardened as the veguer’en exposed to the fumes of Valshhyk. Energy and feeling haddeserted him, replaced by the nausea that rose to the point of overwhelming him. He staggeredalong the cornice. His hand brushed against the bumps of his necklace of Cilamon, and heregained a little courage. Fifty paces further away, the slope to the summit became againpassable. He climbed and rejoined Xuven.

“Thank you for your help,” Pelmen said in a hoarse voice. “A little late, but thank youanyway. Their bloody bowmen almost had me.”

“I couldn’t do any better,” retorted Xuven. “The danger threatening us is far more seriousthan mere archers.”

Pelmen followed the direction of the gnarled wand. On the steppe, the sanrkhas had wontheir first battle and fought hard over their prey. The final victory, however, was far from certain,for Sinistan and Regnan were now advancing at the head of their troops. Unable to see Teleg,Pelmen gritted his teeth. Along with several hooded shamans carrying smoldering urns, thewarriors, malians dressed in gleaming armor for the most part, marched on.

A handful of sanrkhas had gathered outside the bulk of the pack and tried to smellthemselves, probably disturbed only to sense the sulfur.

“Our friends will not appreciate someone trying to deprive them of a hard-earned meal,”muttered Xuven.

After a short consultation, indeed, the predators turned toward the intruders, rushingforward with a perfectly timed sense of coordination. Their fur was the living froth of the steppeand stirred by the wind, seemed to be about to cover everything. The shamans were hampered bythe malians, who showed no fear. Sinistan barked an order and without warning, scarlet whipsappeared in the hands of the crimson shamans. The malanite warriors received the charge, theirspears pointed forward, piercing the first wave of attackers through-and-through. New sanrkhasreplaced them, leaping over the bodies. Trying to ram the enemy, they bounced off the armor,biting and clawing, seeking soft spots, taking it out on the less protected legs. Two malians felldown. The defensive circle broken, a bold predator pounced on Sinistan himself.

The whip stopped it in midair, winding around his chest like a strangul’s tentacle, ignitinghis hair, consuming it in its incandescent embrace, suspended in the air. The shamans, in turn,sent their scarlet whips whistling through the air, and soon the only sound that could be heardwere the growls of pain emanating from the sanrkhas that had attacked them.

“The sanrkhas will not hold long,” said Pelmen.“It’s a big pack.”

“Sinistan’s warriors are too well armed, and most importantly, there are the shamans. Theanimals cannot prevail. We must run off while we still can.” Without waiting for an answer,Pelmen began to walk around the plaza. Leaning over the pass, he was forced to push himselfquickly back, when he spotted guards dotted along the mountain stream, under the watchful eyeof a shaman.

Sinistan leaves nothing to chance. Taking extra care, Pelmen continued to survey thesituation. The blood slowly drained from his face as he realized that other than the path he andhis uncle had already followed, there was no way out. Since the collapse of the cliff face, therocky outcrop was their only chance of escape.

“We’re stuck,” said Pelmen, his voice breaking. “Even if Sinistan and his troops spend therest of the day and the whole night fighting the sanrkhas, we are tra...”

Somewhere deep in his heart, the feeling had always been there. However, he had becomeso accustomed to it since their first meeting that he had it relegated to a mere memory. Now thememory was being re-kindled. Nostrils flared, he looked up at the yellow sky.

Three hundred yards above, fast and unseen to all but him the algam was approaching.Xuven turned his gaze in the right direction, without following the path of the legendary

bird. Pelmen turned to face his uncle, suddenly clear as to why Xuven had never tried to run. “You sent for him, didn’t you?” “I never used the Call before,” said Xuven thoughtfully. “Stenlen told me that it must

always only be used as a last resort. According to him, the shamans who did not showdiscernment had their power removed from them.”

“So, how could you be sure that it would work?” Xuven’s gray irises sparkled. “I was far from being sure! I just felt it was the right thing to

do.” A shadow engulfed them. Xuven stepped back, unlike Pelmen, who watched confidently

the algam with its outstretched wings. The wingspan of the legendary bird was over twelve feet,however, the most striking thing about it was the sharp long beak and the most extraordinarygolden eyes. A gust of wind ruffled the hevelens when the bird landed in a puckering of feathersa few yards from Pelmen. Feeling like he had just been reunited with a life-long friend, heallowed himself the briefest flicker of a smile.

The yellow eyes, sparkling with intelligence, seemed to ask him what he was waiting for.“Go!” ordered Xuven. “There’s not a moment to lose! It can only take one of us.”Pelmen turned his neck stiffly in his uncle’s direction, about to reply when Xuven pre-

empted him, pointing his gnarled wand in a southwesterly direction.“The link between an algam and his Rider should allow you to guide it to the camp of the

Three Rocks. I’ll try to hold out until you can send reinforcements.” Pelmen opened his mouth again to argue, and then while Xuven looked on impatiently, he

reached out to stroke the fabulous ocher plumage tinted with flecks of brown. “Wait here,” Pelmen finally muttered in his rough tongue. “And stand up straight.”“I don’t see where I could go...”Pelmen’s heart began to beat wildly. His empathy for most animals was negligible

compared to the affinity he shared with this one. He was confident that the algam understoodhim. The bird also felt something more, a complex feeling that included a kind of amusement.

Taking a deep breath, Pelmen straddled the spine, in the same way that one would sit on athrone. A warm glow spread over him, as he connected with the plumage. Hauling himself up, hesought the point of equilibrium—its silky feathers were apparently resistant. The algam raised itsrostrum. Pelmen felt it move a talon, then a second. The bird hopped to the edge of the summit.With a last little leap, he rushed forward into the void.

Fear, excitement, and joy at the feel of the wind in his hair intermingled in a dizzyingmaelstrom. Pressed against the backbone of his mount, Pelmen lifted his chin with effort and saw

the sharp edge of a rocky spur rush toward them, only just missing them. They had lost altitudebefore the mighty wings took action, the rider and his majestic companion flying straight overthe steppe.

Riding an algam is like prancing on Aoles himself! Freedom and joy had no limits, nothingseemed out of reach or impossible. Below Pelmen, however, rumblings, growls and screams ofpain mingled, more or less distinct. The fighting was still raging. After taking the initial impactwith some losses, Sinistan’s forces had begun to move.

Pelmen noticed that at the ends of the wings the feathers shimmered. The algam was usingits ability for camouflage. Focusing on his feelings, Pelmen pulled at the neck with his righthand. The algam veered, softly at first and then with greater determination as Pelmenaccentuated his movement. His nostrils wide open to inhale the intoxicating air, he rememberedthe day he had first gained the upper hand over a wild nidepoux, just before he stole Laneth fromher elder brother’s jealous watch. He had intuitively known what gestures were needed to guidethe animal, and it was the same thing here now.

The algam suddenly made an unexpected dip, and Pelmen clung as tightly as he could.It was almost the same thing. I could force the nidepoux whereas, with the algam, the

slightest mistake can cost me my life. “You have a sense of humor, huh?” he gasped. “Go.” Hepulled again on the plumage, more gently, and the bird resumed its initial course toward themountain.

Sinistan’s warriors had after a heavy battle, finally conquered the promontory. Several ofthem started to climb the rocky plateau and a hevelen armed with an ax had just set foot on thecornice preceding the summit.

Hoping and praying that the algam was as smart as it seemed to be, Pelmen gaveinstructions to it.

Stones were few upon the flattened top, and Xuven was quick to arrange to the best of his abilitythe rare ones that he had found. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they came, andhe was aware that he would only be able to delay the outcome. Futile, no doubt. Even if hemiraculously survived the first wave of warriors, the wrath of the crimson shamans would not befar behind. The servants of destruction had managed to burn his mentor remotely. If the sanrkhashadn’t been around to distract them, then there was no doubt in his mind that he would also havesuffered the same fate by now.

At least he had managed to give Pelmen a chance of survival... A half-burned hand appeared on the esplanade. He pointed his gnarled wand toward one of

the stones. The impact took his breath away, his head shot backward. Lifted clean off his feet, Xuven

fluttered his legs, brushing past the dumbfounded hevelen warrior. Then, there was nothing butthe void beneath him. He stopped resisting, for it was the claws of the algam that had seized himin a stranglehold from behind. The wings of the mighty bird flapped forcefully in the air, itscourse stabilizing after taking a sharp curve. Some of the fighters, below them on the ground,pointed their fingers at them. Most, however, were still engaged in battle, and too busy to notice.For as soon as the sanrkhas were disbanded, several groups harassed the enemy in order tosafeguard the bulk of the pack.

Xuven noticed a puny figure standing apart from the others, surrounded by smolderingcorpses. As the algam headed towards him, the individual raised his head swiftly, conjuring up ared glow between his palms, which grew to be the size of a camlorn. Too late, for Xuven wasalready pointing his gnarled wand, and it took just a moment for the Wind’s Fist to reach hisgoal. The crimson shaman, hit hard, wobbled on his legs, hands apart. The explosion of thefireball cut him in half. Debris was thrown tens of yards around, creating confusion. An earlypanic saw the demise of some warriors.

Inch by inch, the algam gained height despite its dual load.

Chapter Three – TRACKED

The world was blurred, the colors faded. Indistinct silhouettes passed them withoutstopping. Elisan-Finella was the only clear landmark. Lominan was still holding the hand of therespondent—in truth, without this contact she would already have turned tail and fled. Until now,the only time she had let go was to cling to the roots of the slender-tree after crossing thepromontory. This had been a terrifying moment, and not just because Elisan-Finella had been nolonger visible, then. The thunderous dual explosion followed by the end of the world crash hadmade her believe death was imminent. Proud of her analytical mind, Lominan had, just a fewmonths earlier, believed Valshhyk to be nothing more than a legend. Now, she had found herselfwondering whether the Destroyer had caused the disaster. At this point, if she could haveblended into a crevice, she would have gladly done so.

She had been forced to continue, though. With the fear her only companion, sendingshivers down her spine, she had repeatedly slipped before finding supports, her arms andshoulders numb to the point that she had considered offloading her water-skins. She would havedone just that if the climbing were not made easier as soon as the rough roots’ diameter hadwidened. The world was again draped in a diaphanous veil and Finella, fully visible for her part,had appeared to her at the foot of the tree. The respondent had motioned her to remain silent asthey slowly advanced across the steppe, surrounded by enemies.

Finella shook her hand, and Lominan realized she was pressing it more than necessary. Shereleased her grip but a moment later, nearly cried out. A hevelen was walking right over them.By Malia, we’re lost! Even if he does not see us, he’ll be able to sniff us out!

Elisan-Finella stepped aside with flexibility, imitated in a less gracious way by Lominan.The hevelen did not seem to realize that the wind was not what had stirred the grass before him.He brushed the malians so that his bow became distinct. His gaze remained fixed.

Lominan breathed more freely. The bowman had not noticed them, continuing his runtoward the sheer drop. They set off again, slower than before, until the sound of someonescreaming in pain in the distance made them pause. Turning to determine the origin of thescreams, Lominan bumped against Finella. The features of the usually so serene respondent’sface were contorted in misery—the waters of a lake in turmoil. At first, Lominan thought thatsomeone was hunting them down and wondered, puzzled, if this was the case why Elisan hadstopped so suddenly.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement. Perhaps fifty yards to theleft, something gray was sneaking by.

Other beasts quickly followed. The newcomers moved quickly, growling discreetly.Lominan held her breath and waited.

Sanrkhas.She stared into Finella’s eyes, her legs swinging. The respondent must be feeling Elisan’s

fear in addition to her own, and yet she had already begun to pull herself together. The bite oftheir fangs... those awful fangs that sink deeper and deeper into your flesh… Craving comfort,Lominan nestled in Finella’s arms, slamming her face into the flat and smooth chest. Unless shemanaged to banish the unbearable vision, she would scream for all eternity!

Finella did nothing to push her away, but began to move anyway. Feeling as heavy as amelepek at that moment, Lominan winced, not sure if she had the strength to follow Finella.

It’s either that or remaining here with the sanrkhas, visible. Shaken by the realization thatshe was doomed unless she did something, still holding onto Finella for support, she took firstone step, then a second. Gathering her last shreds of courage, she glanced sideways. The groupof sanrkhas had walked away. She let out a sigh that was more of a moan and turned, grateful,toward the horizon where, free of predators, the endless expanses of the steppe awaited them. Atleast that’s what she hoped until Elisan spoke.

“There are others to the south,” whispered the ascendant. “We must run now!” Thefeless’tu rushed forward, her pale yellow dress flying behind her. At first, Lominan thought thatshe had no choice but to let go of Finella’s hand and await her fate. However, to her surprise, thesame fear that had her paralyzed now made her legs feel lighter. Better still, she was the one whohad to slow her pace, so as not to outrun the fused! She blinked. The magicians had been unableto maintain their Bubble of Camouflage, and therefore, the scenery had once again regained allof its sharpness. Lominan knew that they stood out from hundreds of yards away because of theirsize. At times, she felt that the blue-tinted lichens of the steppe passing under her feet werenothing more than little wrinkles of Turquoise Water into which the slightest fiber of her bodyyearned to throw itself.

It would just take one of these sanrkhas to turn the wrong way, she thought breathlessly.Just one and we are doomed.

Her legs felt heavier than ever. A few strides from a stump overgrown with moss, Elisanraised her hand. She lay down on the side just behind the stump, in a position so natural to thefused. Lominan lay down in turn under cover, out of breath. At first, her heavy breathing stoppedher from hearing the clamor of battle. “We are no longer in reach of the sanrkhas,” gaspedElisan, “but the danger is not over. Our pursuers are not yet out...”

The quivering preceded a frantic trampling nearby—too close for comfort. Lominan, herpupils dilated, barely dared to look at the stump. The thought that she would not have time tograb her fragment of amberrock to defend herself occurred to her at the very same moment as aslender, graceful animal sprang at full speed, snapping his spiky tail, before disappearing into thedistance as quickly as he had appeared.

“A steppe-runner,” said Elisan. “He must have been as scared as us.”“I doubt it,” said Lominan, her voice blank.“Who would have thought that this stump was hollow?”Lominan stared at her in disbelief. During her journey by her side, she had become

accustomed to Elisan-Finella’s self-confidence, her ability to predict the slightest hazard... thatsomething might surprise her seemed incongruous.

Still lying in the position she had adopted earlier, Elisan joined her hands to summon up aBubble. The surroundings blurred again. “I hope we can hold long enough,” said the ascendant,getting up. “Let’s go. Walking, this time.”

The sound of the fighting waned and disappeared, with the exception of a final bang thatmade the malians turn and forced them to quicken their pace. During their quiet progress,Lominan managed to get her thoughts in order. She thought about Xuven, convinced that thehevelen with gray whiskers and hair tied back must have perished with his nephew in the dualexplosion that shook the mountain, while she was clinging to the roots of a slender-tree. Athought all the more appalling because his last act had most likely saved their lives. If thesanrkhas weren’t keeping them busy at this very moment, Sinistan and his minions would be onour tail. She would have liked to ask Elisan-Finella to use a Bubble of Vision to check whetherany of the hevelens had survived against all odds, but dismissed the thought, knowing that in thecircumstances, the ascendant and respondent were mobilizing all of their resources to maintainthe spell of Camouflage.

Lominan raised her water-skin to her lips, and then pursed them. Sulfur had begun tospread its sourness into the water. She drank anyway, thinking that she had tasted worse.

“Where are we going?” she asked.“Where do you think?” Elisan said in a weary tone. “To Belenia.” At dusk, Elisan-Finella released her hold on the magic and the universe regained its

sharpness. The blades of grass bending under the assaults of the unpredictable wind were nowbarely lit by a low light. Despite Finella and Elisan’s impassive facial features, Lominan wascertain that both shared her sense of insecurity. The steppes were not their turf. Her gaze slidfrom side to side. A ridiculous reaction, of course. They could easily do without the hevelens.

What a terrible waste. Lominan wondered why Pelmen had made all those sacrifices forsomeone like Teleg. When, back from his perilous expedition, and beside the ramparts of Sinista,he had placed his necklace of Cilamon around his friend’s neck, Finella had said that he deservedto have been born malanite. Lominan sighed. Maybe this was why she had never found her soulmate. The mil’nan were probably reserved for the purest souls, nobler than hers at least.

She shivered. It was high time they came to a halt for the day. Exhaustion was beginning tomake her have dark thoughts. Elisan-Finella, however, continued unrelentingly. Lominandecided to drink again, thinking it best to ignore any possible impact on her state of mind. Itseemed to her that there was less sulfur in the water than there had been earlier as if the crimsonshamans’ sphere of influence was now behind them. In the sky, a few clouds were dissolving toemerald curls shrouded in carmine. Darkness was slow in descending. When darkness dideventually fall, and Elisan-Finella decided to stop for the night, Lominan was no longer able tofeel her feet. Crashing down like a rock on the floor, she made no attempt to remove herequipment. Her last conscious thought was that this day had been the longest of her life.

When she woke up, her tongue furred and her limbs numb, she blinked. The green cloudsthat stood out against the yellow sky were heavy with rain—a sign of hope. Elisan-Finella wasworking on unearthing some roots. Clear lines crisscrossed the double pair of arms of thefeless’tu, the same as those stretching her own skin. They would need time to recover. Lominantook a sip of water and then, wincing, rose to lend a hand to the magician. The roots seemed tobe much heavier than herself. Black bulbs were tangled inside, less nourishing than toroponesbut in sufficient number to allow them to rebuild some stock.

The meal was eaten so quickly that both Lominan’s stomachs grew stiff at the suddenintake of food. She realized that Elisan was studying her.

“You’ll have to stay with me throughout the journey,” said the magician.“So that you can make me invisible whenever necessary?”“That’s one reason.”“There’s something else?”“The belenite bowl. We’re not going to retrieve it, with our enemies in that direction.”“So what?”“The lack of Turquoise Water not only makes us more prickly. For a mil’ser like you, the

effects will probably be more harmful.” Lominan raised her eyebrows.“It’s worse for those who have not found their mil’nan. Do you remember your prostration

after your meeting with Sinistan? Lack of Turquoise Water could cause this to happen again. It isalso possible that you’ll start wandering aimlessly or forget to eat or drink. Violent reactions arerare, although the possibility should not be ruled out.”

Elisan’s tone was detached, and she had an icy stare. A healer would not have described toone of his peers in such cold terms the potential progress of a disease.

“I’m not sure,” stepped in Finella, “that thinking about what might happen to her isbeneficial to her spirits.”

“You’re right, no need to waffle back and forth. We need to track down the symptoms ofwithdrawal and come to your aid without wasting time, and that’s why you mustn’t get away. Doyou understand?”

“There’s a way?”“Just a meditation that will allow us to go for a quick fix. I’ll show you.”Elisan-Finella sat cross-legged.“Do as I do. There, give me your hands.”Lominan put her thin and slender fingers on Elisan’s palms.“Ease your mind,” said Elisan in her crystalline voice. “Forget everything but the moment.

Let your mind go and watch your body from the outside.”Nothing happened at first. However, as the minutes passed, the cobalt blue eyes of the

ascendant were subtly altered to become the Turquoise Water in which she could see herreflection. A current began to flow between them while, under Lominan’s skin, the alveolishuddered. They would not open, she knew. It was already surprising that the magician couldcause such a reaction. A moment later, Lominan jumped.

“How... how is this possible?” She stammered.Elisan kept a stony face. “Take back my hands. We have not finished.”Lominan licked her lips. By the time she gave herself over, feeling herself drifting into the

waters of Elisan’s gaze, she had seen the submerged outlines of an elusive cluster of ideas andfeelings. She had always thought this type of contact to be unique to the pools of harmony. Wasit not in the pools that she had been imbued with the knowledge of her elders? In the TurquoiseWater that she had shared emotions, some well-known and others totally new, with othermalians? But to be able to envision such intimacy in the open! Unthinkable...

“Calm down,” whispered Elisan. “Your mind may not open up as long as it will besubjected to the flow of your thoughts. Let go.”

Lominan took a deep breath, vowing to let herself be guided like the first time. Once again,it seemed to her that she was swimming on the surface of a lake beneath which lay a dualpresence of extraordinary dimensions. The feeling was different than in the pools. Here, thescraps of thoughts did not stretch to her. Conversely, she was the one who was carried by acurrent, above the conscience of which she sensed duality. At least one mind remainedimpenetrable to her. Worse, each effort to move towards them took them away from her. The factthat she knew she was not doing it right was not enough to stop the overwhelming sense ofpowerlessness.

Without warning, her sense of frustration was swept away, engulfed by a wave of newemotions. There was hope, here. Peacefulness. A peace, which although fleeting was similar tothe feeling she had enjoyed in the foot baths, in the belenite bowl. Lominan waited for a newwave of similar feelings. Impatient, she decided to search for it, with all her might...

The contact broke. “There’s some potential in you,” said Elisan. “Of course, for now, you are your worst

enemy, but perhaps the obstacle is not insurmountable...”“What do you mean?”“You have to learn to use your will more subtly. Meditation should allow us to touch you

more often.”“Do not worry,” said Finella. “Elisan is a perfectionist. I can guarantee you that she is

satisfied with this first session. We both are. How do you feel?” Lominan considered the question for a moment. “Better,” she said, studying her arms. They

seemed less pale than before. “Yes, a little better.”Elisan nodded. Still sitting, she joined the palms and fingers of both hands. Her brow

furrowed in concentration.A Bubble of Vision. Lominan could not explain where her intuition came from, but it was

right, she was sure. Likewise, she knew that the Bubble was going to be released just beforeElisan’s fingers began to feel the air. The ascendant’s efforts to maintain the Bubble’s integritywere painted on her face. When, after a struggle that seemed to go on endlessly, she winced and

blinked, Lominan figured that the fatigue had taken over. Exhaustion, however, was not the onlything to whiten the complexion of the magician.

“One of Valshhyk’s shamans,” she articulated in an almost hoarse voice, out of place forher. Lominan’s blood froze her mouth half-open.

“He’s some distance away from the others. I think he has sensed the Bubble.” Elisan’s tonewas so altered that Lominan did not immediately realize the implications. When she did, shemoaned frantically scanning all directions.

Everywhere, the wind stirred the grass of the steppe. She was unable to make out apresence anywhere.

“Follow me,” ordered Elisan. “Match your stride with mine.” The ascendant’s tone of voice had strengthened. She was again the self-composed malian,

certain of being obeyed. She knows that I have no chance of survival if I split up from her.Lominan rushed after her. Running, she soon joined her, her tongue flapping against her palate.

“Easy!” urged Finella. “Save your breath!”A rocky path borders the black rampart and the Great Rift: the landscape passes before

her eyes at full speed. Suddenly, the ground gives way and the universe topples over. She rolls,eventually bouncing back against something hard. Lominan winced but slowed her pace. Luckhad been on her side, this vile night.

The head of the respondent swayed with Elisan’s motions. As far as Lominan could tell,Finella stoically endured the trial. A rock took shape, lonely in the bleak expanses. Elisan at firstseemed to take it in focus, but soon changed direction. Lominan, wheezing, frowned. The pieceof granite was more than a landmark to cling to. She could easily hide in its shadow and let herheart that was beating frantically slow down. She might even be able to catch her breath!

Her lips stretched, her legs too heavy, and Lominan saw the distance between her and thefeless’tu increase. The rock was now on the right, the surrounding land dotted with strange ocherspots. Her gaze lingered there, and then she understood. The grass was overgrown withochreonces. Hidden out of sight for most of them, they still twisted their thorny stems at leasttens of yards around the rock. Had Lominan made the wrong choice, her limbs would have beenshredded. She swallowed and turned her attention back to the magician. Elisan-Finella hadstarted to cross a gently sloping landscape’s fold, a sort of fine wrinkle stretching in the steppe.She must have memorized the route up to a certain point. This may be our one and onlyadvantage over the shaman. The thought strengthened her determination to catch up to hermistress, and drawing on her resources, she managed to stretch her strides. By the time shestarted climbing with the aid of her hands, Elisan-Finella was already out of sight. Lominan waspanting, grasping the wetland. An applicant to the return to Harmony. That’s what I have to looklike. The grass was denser and taller on the other side, high enough to reach the chest of amalian. If she hadn’t overhung her, Lominan would perhaps not have spotted Elisan-Finella. Themagician was resting and beckoning Lominan to join her as soon as possible.

Lominan did not have to be asked twice, and awkwardly made her way moving aside thestems. Once close to her, she quickly raised her water-skin to her lips, thirstily gulping down bigsips. The water spread its blessings, making her body lighter. Elisan’s facial features grew tense.“No more!” she said, lowering the water-skin authoritatively.

Lominan glared at her. Elisan-Finella responded by fixing her cobalt gaze on the youngwoman.

“You need to save the water for later,” she said. “Even if it should start to rain, I won’t beable to take water as long as the shaman is on our trail. The crimson shamans can remotely senseBubbles of any kind.”

“Even those of Camouflage?”Elisan nodded. “There is, fortunately, a way to make him lose our trail from here. Just bend

below the level of herbs and float by as if you were the wind. Take your time. If Malia is with us,

he will not guess where we are. Follow me, silently.” Elisan whispered in a tone that brooked noreply. Her wide fused legs were bent, and her chest bowed. Finella did not complain, untroubledby the fact that she was facing the sky.

Lominan did as she was told. Bending, she noticed that the vegetation was colored withvarious shades of gold and blue, and despite the low light due to cloud cover, some aphids weregoing about their laborious life among the stems. At this height, no landmark to guide them.Lominan did not know how Elisan would manage to stay on track without straightening up. Shestrove to imitate her predecessor’s movements, grateful not to have to run anymore. As both sankfurther, fatigue became more of an issue. Lominan clung to the magician’s shape in order toavoid thinking just how the tall and bushy grass oppressed her.

Elisan-Finella stopped at regular intervals and turned around. Lominan was torn betweenthe comfort that she derived from Elisan-Finella’s concern and the embarrassment that suchinterruptions caused. During a particularly lengthy pause, she realized that Elisan was gazing offinto the distance. Without a word of explanation, the fused crouched. Lominan turned round—then flattened herself on the ground. On the now distant rise stood a small silhouette. Theidentity of the hevelen would have warranted further investigation in other circumstances.Prostrate, Lominan dared not move an eyelash. Even so, the rhythm of her heartbeat quickened.After so much time had passed that the Emerald Ocean could have dried up, she finally forcedherself to look up.

The hevelen was still there. There was something fascinating about his immobility andLominan realized with horror that part of herself almost wanted see him unleash his power. Shewanted him to consume them, her and Elisan-Finella, and to be done with it. Finally, he beganmoving and disappeared. He had descended into the plain, on their side as far as she could tell.

“Let’s go.”Half-straightening, Elisan-Finella had already moved on. Lominan initially crawled, before

finding the courage to lean on her hands and feet. Always bent, she hurried after the magician.Focusing on the rustling of plants, she was aware that the hevelen would in all probability bedoing the same thing. The roar of the wind could not disrupt the deadly game of hide and seekalone, the gusts that were bending the stems could unexpectedly reveal either of their positions.Lominan moved way too slowly. The crimson shaman would have no such scruples. Sooner orlater, she would hear the sound of grasses moving aside with frenzy. He would probably emergefrom the rear, one side or the other.

A rustling longer than that of the wind, along with a kind of whistling, confirmed her fearswhile adding to her sense of bewilderment. Just ahead of us? Like Elisan-Finella, Lominanfroze, barely daring to breathe anymore.

The seconds passed slowly by without anything happening. A hunch occurred to her.A spell. He’s using a hearing spell to drive us to him. That’s why he didn’t hesitate to hide

in these herbs.The rustling had, however, resumed, growing louder and increasingly disturbing. Elisan

gripped Lominan by the wrist. “To the ground!” ordered Elisan.No sooner had Lominan complied than the stems a few steps away parted, giving way to a

dual flat snout.By Malia!Descended from the remotest legends, the unlikely creature slowly unfolded until it

overhung them by about twenty feet. The two-headed snake hissed, spouting two forked tonguesfrom both its mouths, one of his gazes falling on the malians at his feet. Lominan wanted to buryher head in the ground. The moment was interminable. Only the roar of the wind shook the plain,and she felt as if she was slowly getting several years older. Then came, ever closer, the sound ofthe flattened grass like a whirlwind closing in on them that would soon embrace them,

squeezing their bodies to the breaking point. The shock was even more brutal than whatLominan had previously expected as she was unceremoniously thrown against Elisan-Finellalike a wisp of straw.

Dazed, she watched the yellow tubular mass of the blue-spotted reptile sliding a few inchesfrom her. The end of the monstrous ringed tail was almost translucent. Lominan stood there,gaping long after the disappearance of the creature. Someone was shaking her arm. She blinked,realizing that the danger had moved away. She found herself being reminded of the passage of agrimoire read and reread in the mil’ser shelter where she had been raised. Shezea had written inher Peregrinations that a slessyk—the name of the two-headed snake—would turn away from amalian if it had a choice, preferring hot-blooded preys.

“Stay bent!” ordered Elisan as Lominan tried getting to her feet, rubbing her left arm—themagician didn’t employ half-measures. Lominan pinched her lower lip and obeyed. Her legsflabby, she stumbled, catching herself as she could.

May Malia protect me, a crimson shaman, and now a slessyk!The snake had left a furrow that they took for a few dozen yards. The quivering had almost stopped when a muffled explosion was heard and was

immediately followed by a series of crackles. Lominan and Elisan-Finella had turned in the samemovement. There, the plain blushed from a glow that had nothing to do with Astar. An acridburning smell floated in the air. The suddenly amplified rustles of the crumpled grass nowcombined with the crash of thunder and lightning which snaked across the sky. The rain poureddown the moment the slessyk rose its dual snout above the flames.

Captivated by the show, Lominan involuntarily straightened. In its fury, the giant reptilehad bent the grass within twenty feet around it. A brighter radiance gave away the shaman. In hishands glowed a fireball that he threw towards the snake. The blast, less powerful than those thathad rung out the day before, released a blinding light. Lominan blinked, the whole plain wasshaking. Hit at the base of its neck, the slessyk waved its rings in every direction, sweepingmadly across the ground. One of the convulsions hit the shaman, who was catapulted maybefifteen yards before rolling on the floor. He remained where he had stopped, inert.

“The fire is spreading!” shouted Elisan against the rumble growing louder with everysecond.

Carried by the wind, a curtain of fire devoured everything in its path. Lominan ran inElisan’s wake while the elements rolled and thundered. The rain dripping on the malians’ skingave them a boost of energy, the plants’ stems whipped them without slowing them. Pops andcrackles, however, were getting close. In a last-ditch effort, Lominan accelerated and overtookElisan-Finella. And suddenly she was free, the trap of the tall grass behind her, her feet landingin step on a rocky part of the steppe, where only a few already soaked lichens came to her ankles.Several hundred yards further, she slowed down before flattening her hands on her legs,exhausted. Elisan-Finella rejoined her, their faces drawn and looking pale. Both gazed at theroaring front twisting and deprived of combustible, defeated by the rain, beginning to diminishon the edge of the grassy plain. Lominan fingered her fragment of amberrock, hoping that thefrantic beating of her heart would settle down. The damned thing had cost her so much... Shehated it, for that very reason, but, above all, because she knew she was incapable of giving it up.

They had continued for several days, still westward. The bad weather had initially lingered,which had allowed Elisan to use her powers to replenish their water supply. She and Finella nolonger feared using Bubbles, Vision or Camouflage, as they had been forced to do when firstapproaching a herd of wild nidepoux—it was mating season, and it would have been very easyfor the males to get their blood up, and charge them on sight. Exhaustion had restricted theirmovements the first two days, a lapse of time that would have been longer without the rain torevive their strength. Since the encounter with the shaman, the steppe had proved to be the same

blue and yellow ocean wherever they looked. Lominan frequently worried that they were driftingaimlessly, for it seemed like they were constantly revisiting the same ground, crisscrossing theirsteps ad infinitum. Elisan’s attitude, proud and straight, ended up looking arrogant, and Finella’swords of encouragement, overflowing with condescension.

One evening, Elisan-Finella decided to put away the necklaces of Cilamon in her game-bag.

“Who told you that we are safe?” asked Lominan.“What you call security does not exist in the Steppes,” retorted Elisan. “Our enemies,

however, no longer chase us. That should be reason enough.”“Why should I believe you?”Elisan raised her eyebrows.“You always pretend to know everything, but you did not see the shaman until it was

almost too late. And as for the slessyk, you did not see it at all!”“Bitter words,” commented Finella. “And unfair.”“So that’s why I couldn’t make contact during our last sessions,” said Elisan. She ran a

finger under her nose, thoughtfully. “You think you were much better before we met, don’t you?”“Oh, yes! I learned to get by on my own. I made it all alone in life.”“Like when you were traveling in the cart of Regnan and... what was his name, your old

master again? Ezechian-Uzeve, right?”“It was my choice. My free will.”“Of course, you chose to embark on that little escapade independently. Without being

influenced in any way.”“We now know our enemies’ methods,” Finella explained softly.Lominan was unimpressed at this unwelcome reminder. The experience to which both

alluded was still a painful memory. Spurred on by the old Zech—her nickname for thetoropones’ grower—she had immersed in the Pool of Felicity. The pool, in the Stray’s quarter ofBelenia, had then given her the most exhilarating dreams, only for depression to sink in thesecond she dragged herself out from the pool. During the hours that followed, she wouldwillingly have accepted any deal, as long as it offered an escape route out of her mundane life.Which is exactly what happened, she traded her freedom—and almost traded a lot more—againstthe fragment of amberrock that weighed down her only pants’ pocket.

“You think you’re so superior...” spat Lominan. “...Just because you’ve found each other...That’s why you despise me, isn’t it? Because I’ve not been able to discover my mil’nan?”

“Come, come,” said Elisan. “I already told you I will help you in your quest. I keep mypromises. Will you keep yours? You’re supposed to be my apprentice, don’t forget...”

“Resentment leads to strife and strife only serves to reinforce the isolation,” said Finella.“Which in turn leads to extra bitterness,” Elisan completed.Lominan was unable to think of a suitable response. The vicious circle was as familiar as

her worn and patched pants. She had already been suffering before meeting Ezechian-Uzeve.Otherwise, she would never have dived into the Pool of Bliss, which in turn would have sparedher so many setbacks... She pursed her lips, before holding her hands toward Elisan, eyelidslowered. “I think... I think I’m willing to try a new session.”

Elisan studied her carefully before cracking a smile and taking her hands.

Lominan scrutinized the outlines of the hill that, earlier this afternoon, had finally brokenup the monotony of the place. The sky was clear, but the ground was still spongy. According toElisan, they neared the Hado. The magician could have changed the course to avoid the hill,hadn’t she decided to go the shortest way. The river described in the texts as very large wasunknown to Lominan. To dive under its surface would probably be pale in comparison to theTurquoise Water, yet the mere thought had the ability to make her alveolus quiver.

She could barely contain her excitement! She had to see the flow that was also said to be aspowerful as it was serene, with her own eyes. She had to hear its lapping. Turning to look atFinella, she saw the all too familiar expression of dread flash across the respondent’s face.

“The shaman is over there…” Finella’s voice was full of incredulity. The notion wasabsurd. More than that, it was impossible! The crimson shaman could not have survived theslessyk. Lominan had watched as he was thrown among the burning embers with her own eyes!The blow had been so violent... She spun around.

Barely visible on the horizon, the dumpy silhouette moved forward. The hevelen could nothave failed to see them as the steppe was flat for miles around. They started to run, and Lominanfelt fear in her heart as she did her best to avoid the ortalies and sharpest stones. She knew thatthe slightest lapse in concentration would prove fatal and wondered at the distance that theywould need to put between them and the shaman before they were safe. Elisan-Finella hadplaced the necklace of Cilamon around her neck and handed her hers, which Lominan took whilestill running. The hill’s details became clearer. At the foot of a rather steep slope stood a tri-folds’grove. It was gusty in the Steppes, which took some adjusting to—she almost lost her balance onnumerous occasions. Her legs were burning, her feet even more. Each run in the steppe had madethe glumass under her skin drier. The water that she had drunk for the past few days had barelyhelped to restore the glumass’s resiliency.

Reeds edged the grove. After gaining ground on the hevelen, Lominan noticed on enteringthe shadow of the tri-folds that they had lost ground again. The shaman’s brown cassock, almosttattered, blackened in places, was just three hundred yards away at the most.

Elisan had raised her water-skin to her lips. Lominan did the same. Together they snakedbetween the massive trunks covered with red bark tightly interconnected by the branches withbroad leaves. What Lominan saw a little further on removed what little remaining courage shehad left—she let out a plaintive moan. In other circumstances, the canalees’ tasty golden brownstem that grew among the rocks and ochreonces would have given her cause for optimism. Butthere was this slope, much steeper than she had expected. They would need hundreds of yards,probably, to bypass it. Beyond was the great river, which she felt in every fiber of her body. Soclose and yet so far away. Even Elisan-Finella frowned.

This is beyond our strength, and she knows that as well as I. The shaman will be upon usbefore we reach the summit.

“Follow me,” said Elisan confidently. She made her way among the reeds, draggingLominan away. Soon, Lominan felt a little better, her feet having stopped burning. Canalees wereimmersed in the water, where they grew in tight rows. Hidden behind the vegetation, a smallpond was curling up itself against the hill.

A single look towards Elisan-Finella was all that was needed. Her gestures swift, the fusedwas getting rid of her yellow dress with blue slashes. Lominan in turn hid her bag in the reeds,keeping her water-skin tight, and her amberrock in her pocket. She sank with fluidity, without asound nor a splash. Beneath the surface, the green environment was at first unclear. Slowly,Lominan’s malian eyes, able to take advantage of any light source, adjusted to the newconditions. Leeches came fast at her. She swam forcefully to reach the bottom. There, she foundwhat she wanted—algae, tall enough to hide her. She was busy wrapping plants around her rightwrist when Elisan-Finella rejoined her. Finella gripped the algae while Elisan scrutinized thesurface.

The silence was almost absolute. Lominan had curled herself up, rolled into a ball. Howdid he manage to survive? Are they really indestructible? Fortunately, the water restored strengthand courage. Lying this deep, only a sea creature could spot them. They could remain in thisposition for hours if need be. Hopefully, long enough for the danger to pass. Or for that cursedshaman to set a trap for us, Lominan thought, grinding her teeth.

A long moment passed. As Lominan’s wrist wrapped with algae started to become stiff, shestirred her fingers so as to fight against the numbness. A hissing noise had gradually been gettinglouder these past few moments. Elisan was peering at a specific point in the distance, andLominan wriggled to find it. Up there toward the surface, something stirred. A big fish couldhave caused this kind of swirl by struggling. It was not that, though. Hotter and hotter wavesraced toward them.

The temperature rose at an alarming rate. Small fishes brushed against them in panic.Water, a bit too cool at first, had become warm, then unbearably heated. If that was not quite thetemperature yet of an oven, it was pretty close to being one.

The shaman must be causing that. He is waiting for us by the edge of the pond. By Malia, Icould have wagered it would happen! Lominan clenched jaws. Her features tense, Elisan seemedto wait for something. The temperature climbed again. Lominan was sure that her skin was goingto be covered with blisters. The stinging pain was entering through every pore, soon enough herbody would be no more than a gaping wound from which shreds of skin would start to detachthemselves. No longer able to bear the suffering, she let go of the algae and swam back up as fastas possible—any death was better than that one. Her momentum was such that she gushed out ofthe surface and landed on the reeds, her mouth gaping, panting. What, under the water, hadseemed like a hissing was transformed here into a loud bubbling. A voice rose above the din.

“So now you are seared medium rare, you gray skin scum. And that’s just the beginning.”Lominan turned, horrified. The voice, full of hatred, came from a blackish mouth overhung

by bloated cheekbones and a nose striped with festering scars. On the opposite edge of the pond,the shaman was holding a glowing whip. It was impossible for the eye to determine the weapon’sexact shape. Bubbles and steam escaped from its end plunged into the water. Lominan felt herstrength leave her. Drawing on her ultimate reserves, she managed to drag herself back, halfsitting. She held the hevelen’s gaze. A flick of the wrist and the whip vanished into thin air. Thecrimson brought his hands closer and began to whisper something.

At the same time, the lake began to rise, and in a gush of foam, a sphere with bluishreflections emerged, encompassing the shaman before he could react. Carried away a few feetabove the ground, he glared furiously at Lominan.

From where he is, he cannot miss me. The look of fury on the shaman’s face was however soon replaced by one of surprise and

pain. Lominan’s eyes widened at the sight of the Valshhyk’s servant struggling to escape fromthe Bubble of Confinement.

There was a loud lapping. “Run! We cannot hold him for long!”Elisan’s voice sounded tired. She and Finella had just burst the surface at the center of the

pond. Regaining her strength, Lominan scrambled to her feet.“Climb! To the river! Don’t wait for us!”Lominan rushed. With a last look at the shaman, she overtook the feless’tu—Elisan-Finella

struggled to drag herself onto the shore—and began climbing. The slope was steep, however, bytaking several detours, she managed to find a barely passable way. She climbed higher andhigher, ignoring the little nicks in her feet and hands—all that mattered was advancing! A rockyspur split the hill in two, and after a brief moment’s hesitation, Lominan chose to take the path tothe left. Once she had traveled a hundred yards down the path, she turned to glance over hershoulder, but was no longer able to see Elisan-Finella. Her attention was however soon drawn toa movement near the pond.

Having freed himself from the Bubble, the shaman fell before immediately picking himselfup, uttering a hoarse cry. Lominan had to get herself under cover quickly or... The noise of thegreat river made her alveolus, which had been burned by the hot water, quiver. The Hado was onthe other side, below. She would find out soon enough. The slope finally softened and soon, thetop of the hill was in sight. She rushed to the opposite side, slid, crossed a bush, resulting in

more cuts to her body, and finally landed with her hands on a flat rock. The Hado unfolded justfifty yards below her. So wide, so vast... A few more yards and she would jump, dive into theever so inviting waters. The flow would carry her away, and the shaman would no longer be ableto reach her.

She stopped in her tracks. A dark sense of foreboding held her back. Elisan-Finella hadmade much slower progress than she had. The feless’tu was nowhere to be seen, which meantthat she must have taken the other fork. The peacefulness that prevailed was the kind that camebefore a storm.

Lominan told herself that she owed her nothing. It was, after all, Elisan-Finella who,alongside Pelmen and Xuven, had forced her so far from her home. Elisan-Finella was the envoyof the High Hierarch, and Lominan had no reason to assume that she wouldn’t carry out themission that had been entrusted to her. Almost no reason.

Lominan studied the stone she had just taken and weighed it. Smooth, it comfortably fittedthe palm of her hand.

The ascendant had ordered her to get away, anyway. She had foreseen what would happen—her sacrifice was voluntary.

Lominan had begun to climb back up the slope, going where the second pass was to lead.She must have lost her mind. It was the only explanation, why else, would she throw

herself into the sanrkhas’ mouth in the way she did? Why would she who had never hurt azeanong, be foolish enough to attempt to stand in the way of a crimson shaman?

Lominan frowned, making a conscious effort to quiet her mind. On the verge of theaudible, she heard a familiar panting. Pushing aside a shrub, she stepped onto a ridge for a betterlook. The way below was more rugged than the path she had climbed. Astar’s rays lit up Elisan-Finella’s gray-blue frame as she struggled to climb. Lominan’s face brightened, and her firstinstinct was to call out to her. Instead, she froze. Less than a hundred yards were between thehunter and his prey. Too little, far too little. He would have her in sight as soon as he passed thenext rock on his way... Lominan bit her lower lip, appalled. Her worst nightmare became realitywhen the crimson shaman reappeared behind Elisan-Finella, at the exact spot she had predictedthat he would—from which he couldn’t miss her. Unaware of the danger, or refusing to take itinto account, the feless’tu did not relax her efforts. Lominan did not hear the shaman but saw himjoin hands. Howling in despair, she threw her stone. Powered by her rage, it bounced off thehevelen’s chest. Gasping, the servant of Valshhyk took two steps back. Then he scanned thescenery and saw her.

The sound of trampling let Lominan know that Elisan-Finella had reached the less steepportion of the slope and had begun to run.

A small scarlet ball had just taken shape in front of the shaman, who hurled it towardsLominan just before she threw herself back into the bottom of the ridge. The blast on the top ofthe cliff was mercifully on a limited scale, yet it was followed by an impact so violent thatLominan immediately felt as if she was losing ground. Her hand fumbled around her shoulderand came back covered with a sticky mauve liquid—her own blood. Unreal it may seem,something sharp and large had pierced her arm.

With stabbing needles boring into her, and tears in her eyes, Lominan got on her feet, andthen staggered over several yards. The slightest gesture felt like torture. Everything was blurred.She thought she was going down the slope but maybe her mind had already capsized. Theground slipped away beneath her feet, and then she felt nothing other than the wave of thepiercing pain, mixed with the feeling of an endless fall.

*****

From the same author

Ardalia, volume 1: The Breath of Aoles

Pelmen hates being a tanner, but that’s all he would ever be, thanks to the rigid caste systemamongst his people, the hevelens. Then he meets Master Galn Boisencroix and his family. Themaster carpenter opens up a world of archery to young Pelmen, who excels at his newfound skill.But Pelmen’s intractable father will have none of it, and tries to force Pelmen to stay in thetannery.One day, however, Pelmen’s best friend and Master Galn’s son, Teleg, disappears. Lured awayby the prospect of untold riches through mining amberrock, the most precious substance in theworld, Teleg finds himself a prisoner of the Nylevs, fierce fire-wielding worshippers of the godof destruction.Now Pelmen must leave all he knows behind, overcome his fears and travel across the land, insearch of his childhood friend. Along the way, he will ally himself with strange and fantasticbeings: a shaman who controls the Breath of Aoles, or the power of the wind, a krongos, acreature of the mineral realm who can become living rock, and a malian, adept at water magic.

Amazon link : getBook.at/ardalia

Ardalia, volume 3: The Flames of the Immolated (to be published)

The great hunt had begun, and the hevelens were the prey. When would it end, and how?Impossible to predict…

With the malian army defeated, the forces of Destruction are laying siege to the Gate of theCanyons and spreading out over the Windy Steppes. For every child of the wind or the watercaptured and hurled into the Great Rift, a Nylev, a fire-being, is born. Pelmen, Laneth, Lominanand Elisan-Finella must convince the krongos to join them in their desperate struggle, but only ahandful of the mineral creatures remain, and Valshhyk, the Immolated seems unstoppable…

A brief history of Ardalia

This mythological, not to say cosmogonic, story describes in a few pages the genesis of the fourgreat civilizations of Ardalia and the most significant events preceding the Ardalia trilogy. Forthose who have read The Breath of Aoles, Turquoise Water and The Flames of the Immolated, itoffers an interesting adjustment of perspective. For others, it permits an easy introduction to thedetails of the universe while furnishing a complete synoptic history benefiting from a differentviewpoint.

Amazon link : getBook.at/ardaliahistory

About the author

Alan Spade worked for eight years for the press, reviewing video games. In his youth, heacquainted himself with the classic French authors, while immersing himself in the works of H.P. Lovecraft, Isaac Asimov, J. R. R. Tolkien and Stephen King. That wide range of influences isreflected in his style, simultaneously approachable, visually evocative and imaginative.

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© 2015 Emmanuel Guillot Publishing