Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LVIII

Dax and the two warriors flying escort on either side of him were glad to see the sunrise. They had flown throughout the cold, cloudless night; the sun would bring welcome warmth to their wings and to the air that filled their lungs. As the morning light improved, Dax looked down to get his bearings.

He was relieved to see that they were still on course. They were flying south, following the Sippora River, and were about halfway to Tammerland. Dax had left camp far later than he would have liked, as there had been important matters to attend to. Rufio had been well liked, and his fellow warriors had taken his death hard-especially since there had been no body to immolate. Dax's first order of business had been to oversee an impromptu memorial service in the slain warrior's honor.

He then told his troops about the azure wall barring the entrance to the pass and he assigned a group of warriors to watch over it. If it changed in any way, they were to report it at once. He also assigned fresh troops to monitor the orb and issued them identical orders. According to the latest report, the deadly sphere, having created the new pass, had turned south again, still hemorrhaging golden energy. Where it would go from there was anyone's guess.

It had been the dead of night by the time Dax had been ready to depart for Tammerland to make a report to the Jin'Sai and his wizards. As the only living warrior who had seen the azure wall, he felt it was his duty to make the report personally.

The young Minion captain stole a few moments to close his bloodshot eyes against the wind. The respite felt wonderful. He had been awake for nearly thirty-six hours, and he was exhausted. Bowing to the inevitable, he opened his eyes again and looked down to make sure that the Sippora was still below them.

To make his group a little warmer, he led them to a lower altitude. As his view of the river improved, his eyes narrowed. I must be seeing things, he thought. He blinked, but the scene remained the same. To his utter amazement, the normally mighty Sippora had turned black and looked as thick as tar. Its banks teemed with refugees and loaded-down beasts of burden, all walking south along either side of the river. The crowds seemed to stretch on forever. They weren't simply fleeing, Dax realized. They were moving permanently, and it seemed that they were all on their way to Tammerland.

Stunned, Dax quickly signaled to his warriors, and the three of them soared down to take a closer look.

There were no major cites in this part of Eutracia, but the Sippora's fertile banks were lined with small farming villages. The water table was notoriously low here, and wells had never been a viable option. But that had never mattered, because for centuries the majestic river and its hundreds of tributaries-supplied by the glacial runoff from the Tolenkas-had easily provided all the water these peaceful farmers could use, both for drinking and for irrigation. It had also granted excellent fishing and trapping, and its fast-moving branches could always be relied upon to turn the waterwheels that milled the farmers' hard-won grain. But now all that had changed.

Dax thought for a moment. If he and his escort swooped closer, he knew that they would frighten the people. But it couldn't be helped. He simply had to know more. Using hand signals, he ordered his warriors down. Buffeting the air with their dark wings, they came to land on the western bank of the river.

As the Minions set down, citizens screamed, scattering with their burdened animals as fast as they could. Dax had harbored a slight hope that he might speak with some of them. But it was clear that he wouldn't get the chance.

Accompanied by his warriors, he walked closer to the river and looked down.

The once beautiful Sippora had become a terrible sight. The water-if one could still call it that-had turned black. As thick as molasses, it moved at about one-third of its normal speed. At first its soft, pliable surface seemed unbroken. But occasionally it would crack open, hiss noisily, then send pent-up energy high into the air.

The Minions could easily feel the damaged river's intense heat, and see the steam that rose from it. Then the Sippora's awful stench reached them. It smelled like a cross between rotting fish and human waste. Everything the river touched, it turned black; the ground on either bank was scorched for quite some distance. In places where the banks had been dry, grass fires had ignited. Many still burned.

The river looked like death itself. Nothing could live in that, Dax thought. But what had caused this horror? Suddenly he understood.

The energy spraying from the ruptured orb had polluted the river, he realized. During the darkness of their night flight, he and his warriors hadn't been able to tell the difference. But in the light of day it was clear that the river's toxic flow was headed straight for Tammerland. When the stinking, superheated mass finally reached the capital, the entire city would go up in flames.

Dax made up his mind. He looked over at one of his fellow warriors and he pointed to the river.

"Arius, see if you can take a sample of whatever that is," he ordered.

"If possible, I want to take some of it back to the wizards. But be careful."

The warrior named Arius clicked his heels. He took up his water flask from one hip. Standard issue for each warrior, the flask was made of metal and had a leather strap. After dumping out its water, Arius walked to the river's edge.

The overpowering heat and stink nearly made him faint. He opened the flask and touched it to the top of the black, slowly moving mass. The flask began to hiss and melted away immediately; the strap burst into flames. Jumping back, Arius realized he had been lucky not to lose his hand.

As Arius walked back, Dax shook his head. Opening his own flask, he took a generous gulp of water, then handed it to Arius to replace the one that the river had just destroyed.

"I want you to fly back to camp and report this," Dax ordered him. "Tell the warriors to gather water only from the glaciers. Under no circumstances are they to approach the Sippora. Go now."

Arius clicked his heels again. "As you wish," he answered. He took several running steps and launched himself into the air. Climbing quickly, he turned northwest, back toward the camp. Soon he was merely a speck in the sky. Then he was gone.

As Dax looked back at the river, the refugees filed grimly past him and his remaining escort; their expressions cautious and hateful, they gave the warriors a wide berth. Many of them were wounded-either by the orb, Dax assumed, or by the strangely mutated waters of the Sippora. Some were hurt so badly that he doubted they would live to see Tammerland.

He shook his head. Tammerland was about to become a living nightmare. For a brief moment he wondered whether the refugees would blame this new calamity on the Jin'Sai as well.

There was nothing more the two warriors could do here. Dax nodded to his escort, and they both took to the air. As the Minion captain gained altitude, he cast his gaze southeast, down the length of the steaming, stinking river.

Even from this height, the refugees lined its banks for as far as the eye could see.