Infidel Page 13

  “Yes.” Rosas eyes were wide.

  “The Roush, Michal, told us that Johnis is the Chosen One.”

  “You’ve … you’re saying you’ve seen a Roush?”

  Silvie remembered their vow to keep all they’d learned and seen in complete confidence. This was a dangerous track she was on, though seeing as how they’d lost the books and Johnis might be dead, the vow they’d made to the Roush seemed distant and irrelevant.

  “Metaphorically speaking, in a dream. Thomas was given the prophecy in a dream. Do you doubt that your son is chosen?”

  “No. But it’s the first time I’ve heard anyone else say it.”

  “You knew? How?”

  “I had a dream too. A Roush told me the prophecy, and I knew that Johnis bore the mark. So Thomas and Rachelle both know!”

  Silvie felt her last lingering doubts disappear. Johnis was the Chosen One.

  A flock of birds circled in from the west. Black vultures, Silvie thought. But then she saw that she was wrong. They were Shataiki.

  They’d hardly seen any since returning to the forest, or for that matter, Roush. They seemed to be giving them space. But now more came in from the west, hundreds dotting the sky, like locusts.

  She looked at Rosa. “Do you see them?”

  Rosa stared at the city. “The Dark Priest? See who?”

  No, she couldn’t see the Shataiki. But they now numbered in the thousands, flapping in and circling the Horde city, indeed like vultures preparing to prey on the dead.

  Silvie watched, riveted by the sight. Seeing the Shataiki feeding on the dead Horde in the valley of massacre had been the first time she’d ever considered the possibility that these beasts from hell had an appetite for flesh or blood. But in a world where evil showed itself in physical form, it made perfect sense.

  Silvie knew the Shataiki could see them—they clearly were more interested in something else: the Horde. Johnis.

  A particularly large beast, like the one who called himself Alucard in the Black Forest, perhaps Alucard himself, led the Shataiki in a dive. The black bats tucked their huge wings and streaked toward the earth, toward the center of the Horde city.

  Silvie jumped to her feet, thinking that they had to do something. Something was up. Johnis was in trouble.

  “What?” Rosa asked, standing. “You see something?”

  Silvie tried to see what the Shataiki were doing, but they were too far away. They were flooding the city, she could see that much. None of the traffic on the main road seemed to change—the Horde could see nothing of the Shataiki.

  But Johnis would.

  “What is it, Silvie? You’re frightening me! Tell me!”

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing? You jumped up!”

  “I thought I saw something on the street.” She sat down and drew her legs under her chin. “I was wrong.”

  Rosa lowered herself next to Silvie, and they were silent. The sky was empty except for a half dozen Shataiki circling—sentries.

  “So, you intend to be my daughter-in-law?” Rosa asked.

  “I didn’t say anything about marriage. You’re right, we’re too young. I doubt he really knows I love him. I don’t even know. We’re both in the Guard! This is crazy. It’s …”

  Rosas hand on her arm stopped her. “Of course you love him, dear. And of course he feels something for you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. No use denying that. But it’s good that you’re cautious. We should see where this prophecy leads him.”

  “Maybe it leads him to me,” Silvie said. She was sounding like a double-minded fool, perhaps because when it came to him, she was.

  “We’re talking nonsense!” she cried. “He’s dead, for all we know!”

  Rosa took her hand away, fingers now trembling. “So, what do we do?”

  Silvies vision distorted with a flood of tears. Her throat ached, and her chest felt hollowed by a Horde spear, but she refused to weep.

  “We wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For something to present itself.”

  “We’ll turn back to Horde. Maybe we should get some water.” The prospect of turning back into a Scab unnerved Rosa more than she was letting on, Silvie guessed. Months of captivity had reached deep into her mind.

  “I can’t leave him,” Silvie said, gazing ahead.

  Rosa stared at the city. “No, of course we can’t. But I’d rather die by a Horde blade, fighting for my son, than by the disease. Don’t leave me here, promise me that.”

  “I promise.”

  THOMAS HUNTER LAY UNDER THE SAND, BARELY BREATHING through the makeshift snorkel, listening, listening, always listening. Though his ears were clogged with sand.

  Most of the day had come and gone, and as of yet they hadn’t discovered him. They’d passed over the two dunes on either side of the shallow canyon he was in, but judging by the soft thudding of their hooves, they hadn’t come near enough for him to attempt anything.

  He was now having serious doubts about the wisdom of the path he’d chosen. He needed a horse. The Horde had horses, but unless he lured them close enough, they would see him coming and simply run away, knowing that their greatest weapon against him was time, because with time would come the disease.

  Thoughts of his skin slowly rotting elevated his pulse. He hadn’t moved for hours. He was protected from the sun, but lying in this shallow grave, he was rotting, wasn’t he?

  His mind drifted back to the time when he used to dream, before he’d sworn to Rachelle that he would ear the Rhambutan fruit at least once each day to keep his mind from dreaming, a promise he’d fulfilled faithfully for thirteen years. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to dream of anything, much less another world.

  Rumor had it that those in his dreams had told him that this reality was the dream. Ludicrous, of course. A hundred battles with the Horde had washed away any such fantasy.

  He had three pieces of the fruit in his pocket now, but their flesh wouldn’t hold him for long. He had to find a horse.

  Thomas moved deliberately for the first rime in hours. Pain sliced through his muscles. The disease?

  Panicked by this sudden evidence, he sat up and let the sand fall from his face and chest. For a moment he was distracted from the pain by a need to see if any Scabs were in sight. But seeing none, he turned his attention to his arms.

  They had turned gray and were cracking. Pain flashed through his skin with the slightest movement.

  Thomas jumped from the grave and stared at his spread hands. He was a Scab! Or nearly one. He was stranded in the desert, turning to Horde as the sun sank to the horizon.

  He turned around, saw the dunes on all sides empty, and made for the closest. It took him a few minutes to climb because of all the pain in his legs, which forced him to claw his way up with sore hands. A terrible thing, this turning to Scab.

  His view at the top of the mound rewarded him with nothing but sand and rock.

  Nothing! Not a single Horde warrior that he could see.

  For a long time he stared around, dumbstruck by his bad luck. Why weren’t they crawling over the hills looking for him? Surely they knew he was still here!

  Then he remembered that being caught by the Horde in the open would only ensure his ruin. They would see him and stay away, leaving his flesh and mind to rot.

  And my mind is rotting; he thought. He was careless already.

  Thomas slid back down the hill, groaning with pain. Maybe they’d already seen him and were biding their time. No, they would have posted sentries on the hills. He’d hidden too well! He had consigned himself to death!

  Thomas lay on the desert floor, overcome with desperation, and wept. He cursed the disease with bitter cries of protest. Then he ate two of the fruit in his pockets, finished the water from his canteen, and walked into the night.

  e’s not there,” Martyn said. “The arrangement was that you’d leave him in the Red Valley, which you did, but this bus
iness about telling him to run for the forests immediately not only makes no sense; its not what he did.”

  They had left Johnis in the same cage most of the day, then hauled him up into the temple library for this audience with the Dark Priest, who stood draped in black; Qurong, who was trying to make sense of Johnis; and General Martyn, who paced in front of Johnis, grilling him with questions about Thomas.

  He was a prisoner.

  Silvie hadn’t returned to rescue him.

  They had his legs bound to the chair.

  But Karas had been freed. His little Horde girl was alive, and now he wasn’t entirely sure he understood why he’d taken the chance on her. To save her, natnrally, but at what cost? Not to him, but to his mother, to the forests, to the mission? It didn’t matter, he’d done what he’d done for love, thinking with his heart. It was the only thing he knew to do.

  “And what did he do?” Johnis asked.

  “He went into the canyons just west and disappeared. We checked the way north to the forests and came up short. So tell me where he is.”

  “I told you hours ago: I don’t know where he is. I told him to head back, so I can only assume he tricked you into thinking he was going west, then doubled back. You’re not dealing with a child here.”

  “You don’t need to tell me who I’m dealing with!” Martyn said. “We pulled our men to the north and came up empty. Where could he have gone? A man just doesn’t fade into thin air.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then you’ll pay with your life.”

  The first thing he’d noticed upon entering the library was the empty side table where the book he’d slipped the map into had been. Gone. With any luck, Chelise, daughter of Qurong, had taken his bait.

  “Karas will live, as long as I’m general.” Martyn drilled Witch with a glare. “That stunt was inhuman.”

  Witch defended himself. “I have your Chosen One, haven’t I?”

  “Without Thomas, you’ve given me nothing,” the general snapped.

  “I have to agree with Martyn,” Qurong said. “Our war isn’t with any recruit who can barely hold a sword. It’s with the forests and with Thomas, who stands in our way.”

  “You’ll do well to remember that Thomas himself placed slightly more weight on this recruit, who can barely hold a sword.”

  “Watch your tone, Witch,” the general said.

  The door behind Qurong opened, and Chelise filled the frame. But not only Chelise.

  First one, then a stream of twenty Shataiki slipped past the gaping door, into the library where they attached themselves to the shelves and stared at Johnis with pupil-less, red eyes. The one closest to him hissed, fangs dripping with saliva.

  Johnis pulled back instinctively.

  “What is it?” the Dark Priest glanced at the wall where Johnis stared.

  The gaunt Shataiki called Alucard stepped around Chelise as she closed the door. He eyed Johnis, then walked over to the Dark Priest and leaped to his head, where he perched.

  The priest scratched his head but otherwise made no attempt to remove the beast. He felt something, Johnis realized, just not the full extent of what was there.

  “You,” Johnis said to Alucard. “I thought we’d burned you in the Black Forest.”

  “Not me, you fool,” the Shataiki hissed.

  “Who are you talking to?” Qurong demanded. Then to Witch, “He’s lost his mind.”

  “It’s black magic,” the priest said.

  “He’s lied to us. Kill him,” Martyn said, burrowing into Johnis with a dark stare. He turned to go, and Qurong stood to join him. “Before sunset. This is a dangerous runt who’s more use to us dead than alive. We begin a new sweep of the Red Valley at first light.”

  “Sir!” the Dark Priest protested. “I beg you! This is the Chosen One!”

  “To them, Witch, not to us. His black magic is nothing more than foolishness, offering himself for a child he doesn’t know and not caring if he lives or dies.”

  “I would say those are noble traits,” Chelise said.

  “And I would say they are the traits of an idiot,” her father snapped. “What interests you with this young pup?”

  “He can read the books,” she said.

  “He can lead us to the missing books,” the Dark Priest said.

  One of the bats fluttered over to Qurong and sank his claws in the man’s shoulder. He grasped his muscle momentarily, then brushed it off as if only a fly had lighted there. There were dozens in the room now, lining the walls and ceiling like clusters of lumpy black grapes.

  When Johnis looked back at the priest, Alucard had hopped down on his shoulder and was licking the man’s ear with a long, pink tongue. He twisted his head and made to sink his jaws in the man’s neck, all the while staring at Johnis.

  “If Martyn says kill him, then I say kill him,” Qurong said. “Before the sun sets.” Alucard left with Qurong, and as they opened the door, more Shataiki entered. Apparently they didn’t live among the Horde, but they did seem to come and go freely.

  Johnis grasped for the slightest advantage. “You’d be a fool to kill me, Witch. The fact is I do have black magic. I can prove it.”

  “Tell me where the books are and I’ll let you live,” the priest retorted.

  Johnis kept his eyes on Witch. “I can put marks on you from here. You’ll feel a prick at your neck, and it comes from my mind.”

  “You don’t scare me with this nonsense.”

  “Why do you like the taste of blood, Alucard?” Johnis said, watching the Shataiki beast on Witch’s shoulder sniffing and licking his neck. “Why do you want to bite him?”

  “Human blood gives me the life that was robbed,” Alucard said, and sank his teeth into Witch’s neck.

  The man slapped at his neck as if a mosquito had landed and bit him there. Smack! The black beast flapped off his shoulder and landed with claws extended on the stone floor. It stepped awkwardly to one side, fangs still bared, licking a tiny drop of blood from its teeth.

  “You see, Chelise?” Johnis drilled her with his most urgent look and spoke quickly. “I do know the magic of the books, and I can tell you I’m not the only one who can read these Books of History. There is a member of the Horde who can teach you to read. I know, because he was the one who taught me to read. He’ll be masquerading as someone else, of course, but he can change your life if you give him your horse.”

  “Stop!” The Dark Priest threw his hand up. “Don’t try to bewitch her; I won’t have it!”

  “She wants to read the books. Is that a crime?”

  “No one can read the books!”

  ““I can!”

  “You lie.”

  “Show me a book and I’ll read,” Johnis said.

  “That’s impossible. Who would know if your rambling matched the words?”

  Eyes back on Chelise. “There’s a Horde who knows how to read the books.”

  “I must ask you to leave us,” Witch said, turning to Chelise.

  Chelise looked from one to the other and back. “There is evil in this room,” she said, then spun on her heels and strode through the door.

  “Are you mad, trying to beguile Qurong’s daughter?” Witch cried.

  “I’m only trying to get someone in this impossible Horde city to realize that you’ve all missed the most important thing of all. It’s no wonder you can’t win any battles against armies a tenth your size.”

  Witch paced by him slowly, stroking his beard. “Is that so? And what would that be?”

  “Black magic. You felt it, didn’t you? The sting on your neck? Keep me alive, and I can teach you things you’ve only dreamed of.”

  “Trickery won’t save you this time,” Alucard hissed.

  “Then kill me now,” Johnis snapped. “You can’t, can you? Not here, where you have your puppets to do your killing. You can’t kill us unless we enter your black forests. Isn’t that right?”

  The beast recoiled, and Johnis knew he’d stumbled on t
he truth. The Shataiki couldn’t destroy the Forest Dwellers unless they either became Horde or entered the Shataikis’ domain.

  “Who are you talking to?” Witch demanded.

  “To the Shataiki beside you,” Johnis said; then he shifted his eyes back to Alucard. “You’ve come to make sure they do what you failed to do in the Black Forest. You’re here to watch my death.”

  “Knowing the truth won’t save you, human!” the black bat said.

  Witch had gone a shade paler. He glanced to his left and stepped away. “I’ll ask you one last time, where are the missing books?”

  “Keep me alive, and I’ll tell you.”

  “Karassssss,” Alucard hissed. “Kill Karassssss.”

  “Tell me or I’ll kill Karas,” Witch whispered.

  “Then kill me, because I cant tell you where the books are. I can only open your mind to the black magic,”

  The Dark Priest glared at him for several long seconds that stretched into an endless minute. Then he spun and walked from the library.

  Four Horde guards came in, pulled Johnis from his chair, hurried him down the steps, and locked him in the same cage that had imprisoned his mother and Silvie.

  They snuffed out the oil lamp and slammed the door, leaving him in total darkness.

  He was alive. He couldn’t fool the Dark Priest for long with his talk of black magic, because beyond the trick he’d already played, he had none. But he was alive. Johnis sat in the corner and eventually slumped on one side. He’d hardly slept in a week, and exhaustion swallowed his mind.

  The first pains of the disease hit him when he woke a day later. He knew a day had passed because it took the disease two days to deliver any pain, and he’d bathed a day before being locked in the cage.

  It was so black in the dungeon that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Witch had left him to turn to Horde down here, as he’d done to Rosa.

  He would become Horde for Karas.

  hen Thomas Hunter awoke on the morning of the fourth day without having bathed in the lake’s healing waters, the first thing he realized was that the pain didn’t seem as bad as it had the day before.