The Verdant Passage

THIRTEEN THE VERDANT PASSAGE

“Get up!”Rikus called, fixing his stern gaze on Agis. “It’s not time to rest!”

The handsome noble looked up at the gladiator for a moment, then spoke in an even voice. “I don’t need your permission to sit,” he said, once more propping his head in his hands. “Or to do anything else.”

They were high in the Ringing Mountains, struggling up a narrow stone terrace. On one side, a cone-shaped spire of granite loomed thousands of feet overhead, and on the other a sheer precipice plunged more than mile straight down. Below the cliff lay the Tyr Valley. Their goal lay hidden before them: the magical spear Ktandeo had mentioned to Sadira. It, of all the weapons on Athas, offered them the power to strike against the sorcerer-king.

“We’re moving too slowly,” Rikus said, shivering in the cold mountain wind. He was wearing only his customary breechcloth and a pair of sturdy sandals, having refused Agis’s gentlemanly offer to loan him something warmer. In his hand, the mul carried the one item he had condescended to borrow, a bone axe with twin blades set side by side.

Rikus pointed ahead to where the stone terrace ended at the edge of a deep chasm. “Where’s Anezka?” he asked. “If we lose her now, we’ll never find Nok or Sadira’s damned spear.”

“She’ll be back,” Agis said, rubbing his temples. Though he was dressed in what Rikus considered a foppish manner-calf-high walking boots, leather breeches, and a rust-colored corselet with a matching fleece cape-the mul had to admit that at least the noble’s outfit appeared warm.

Agis looked toward Sadira and Neeva, then added, “The women need to rest.”

Rikus followed his gaze and saw that Sadira was a few yards behind the noble, dressed in leather pants and a fleece shawl. Somewhere in Agis’s house, she had also found a crownlike hat with a pair of stylish straps that descended along her nose and crossed beneath her cheeks like a mask. The mul had seen noblewomen dressed in similar hats, and it bothered him to see Sadira proudly imitating their inane fashions.

Behind the half-elf came Neeva, struggling up the mountainside at a plodding but steady pace. Of course, the only clothing Agis had been able to provide for a woman of her proportions had come from his slave pens. Still, she looked comfortable enough in a pair of hemp pants and a coarse wool cloak, and she seemed completely at ease with the steel-bladed trikal in her hand. She had been absolutely delighted when Agis gave it to her as a gift, and that bothered the mul even more than Sadira’s love for her new hat. This Agis of Asticles was working too hard to make himself popular with a group of escaped slaves.

“The women look like they’re doing better than you,” Rikus said, sneering at the noble’s weakness. “At least they’re still moving.”

Despite his callous attitude, Rikus knew what Agis felt.

When they had first started climbing, the companions had all noticed a certain shortness of breath and unusual weariness. As Anezka had led them higher into the mountains, this feeling had continually grown worse. Their heads throbbed with blinding pain, the mere effort of breathing racked their lungs with searing torment, and the muscles of their legs were numb with fatigue. The difference between Agis and his companions was that the noble was unaccustomed to prolonged deprivation and hardship, whereas the others had known it all their lives.

Ignoring the mul’s barb, Agis reached into his satchel and withdrew his waterskin. It was half-empty, for the group had not come across any fresh water since entering the mountains three days ago.

As the noble opened the neck, Rikus cried, “It’s not time to drink. Save that for later.”

Agis sneered at the mul. “I’m carrying it. I’ll drink when I like.”

“We’re running short on water,” Rikus growled, stepping toward the noble.

“Our stores are far from depleted,” Agis countered. “Besides, I’ve spent time in the desert. I can find more water when we run out.” The noble looked around at the barren mountainside surrounding them, then added, “Well, before we’re in danger of dying, anyway.” He lifted the skin to his lips again.

The mul reached for the waterskin. “Your soft ways are going to get us killed!”

Agis pulled the skin away. “What are you doing?”

“Protecting us from you!” Rikus replied. He lunged for the waterskin again, this time grasping it around the open neck.

Agis pulled in the other direction just hard enough to prevent the mul from taking it. “Rikus, if we continue this, we’re going to spill what’s left of the water,” he said, speaking in a patronizingly calm tone.

“What are you two doing?” Sadira cried as she got close.

Rikus ignored her. “I’m not going to let you drink it all,” he said, refusing to yield to what he perceived as a veiled threat. “I’ll pour it on the ground first.”

Agis released the waterskin. “You’re a big enough fool to do it, aren’t you?”

“I ought to split your skull for you,” Rikus countered.

Unimpressed with the threat, Agis turned to Sadira. “I don’t think Rikus could have illustrated my point any better, do you?”

“Don’t get me involved,” she said, rubbing her temples. “This is between you.”

Neeva joined them. “If you two spent less time arguing, we’d probably be in the halfling forest by now,” she said. Rather than trying to stand next to Sadira on the narrow ledge, she stopped behind the half-elf. “Maybe what we need is a leader.”

Rikus smiled at his fighting partner, then smirked at Agis. “Good idea,” he said, retying the neck of the waterskin. “We drink when I say.”

The noble frowned. “Neeva said we need a leader, but I didn’t hear anyone say it should be you.”

Rikus regarded Agis disdainfully. “Who else could it be?” he demanded. “You’re too soft.”

Agis’s eyes flashed. “I spent more than a year learning the ways of the desert,” he said in a controlled voice. “I doubt that your background allowed for the same opportunities.”

“We’re in the mountains, not the desert,” Rikus insisted, not quite sure whether the noble had meant his comment as an observation or as an insult. “Besides, I don’t care how much time you spent in the desert. You’re still too soft.”

“You’re too simple,” Agis countered hotly. “You mistake bullying for leading, and the only way you know to solve a problem is to kill it.”

Rikus stared at Agis without speaking. There was probably some truth to what the noble said, for he had never been trained to do anything but fight. This realization did little to decrease his desire to grab Agis and pitch him over the cliff.

“Neither of you should be the leader,” Neeva said, stepping around Sadira.

“What are you saying? We should follow you?” Rikus asked.

“Maybe,” Neeva answered. “At least my mind is on Nok and the spear.”

“When did you get so interested in the spear?” Rikus demanded. “Don’t tell me you’re joining this crazy plot to assassinate Kalak?”

Neeva met his gaze steadily. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

Rikus frowned, unable to answer. He had assumed that Neeva was making the journey just because he was. It had not occurred to him that she might have another reason.

“If you’re not here because you want to kill Kalak, why did you insist on coming along?” Agis asked pointedly.

The mul motioned to the half-elf. “To protect Sadira,” he said. “She saved my life so I owe her a debt of honor. I must defend her life until that debt is paid.”

The senator smiled. “In that case, there’s no need for you to continue. I’m perfectly capable of defending the young-”

“Forget it,” Rikus snapped, glaring at Agis. He had not explained the real reason he was here: he simply wanted to be with Sadira.

“Why don’t you both turn back?” Neeva asked. “We’ll travel a lot faster if we don’t have to stop and wait while you two fight over Sadira every few miles.”

“They’re arguing, not fighting,” Sadira noted. “Besides, there’s nothing to fight over. A woman can have feelings for more than one man.”

Neeva rolled her eyes.

“Just like Rikus loves both you and me,” Sadira went on. “No one sees us arguing.”

“We’re not exactly friends,” Neeva replied coldly. “And I wouldn’t say what Rikus feels for me is love.” With that, she looked toward the end of the terrace. “There’s Anezka. If we’re going to reach Nok, we’d better keep up with her. Soon, she’ll grow tired of waiting for us.”

Rikus gave Neeva an angry glance, but did not say anything. As usual, his fighting partner had cut to the heart of the matter with a few biting comments.

When he looked forward, he saw Anezka standing at the end of the terrace watching him and the others with a disgusted expression. She turned toward the peak on the right, then stepped over the edge of the terrace and was gone from sight.

The mul followed and saw that she had stepped onto a small shelf of rock. This ledge was so narrow that, at first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a dark line crossing the shadowy side of the peak. It ran along the granite face until it disappeared around the far side of the mountain.

Rikus took a moment to secure his twin-axe to his satchel, then stepped onto the ledge. It was barely wider than his feet and was covered with a layer of loose dirt. Nevertheless, Anezka moved along it as casually as if she were walking down the corridor leading into Tyr’s great stadium. Rikus followed, half expecting the shelf to collapse under his weight.

To his surprise, he discovered that the ledge itself seemed quite sturdy, but the thick layer of dirt covering it posed a constant threat. Twice in the first few steps, the slick soles of his sandals slipped on the loose ground and nearly plunged him into the dark abyss below. He looked back to warn the person behind him about the treacherous ground, but held his tongue when he saw it was Agis. Even if Rikus had felt like protecting him, he doubted the noble would have taken the advice in a friendly manner.

Rikus faced the mountain so that he could use both hands to brace himself. Slowly he shuffled across the ledge, kicking the dirt away before he took each step. He had always heard that one shouldn’t look down from a high place, so he tried to keep his eyes turned toward the summit of the peak.

After a time, he realized this was a terrible mistake. The endless sky overhead filled his mind with images of a bottomless abyss beneath his feet. When he had gone about a quarter of the way across, a picture of his body tumbling into the chasm below flashed through his mind. Every now and then, he saw himself bounce off the craggy wall, his musclebound figure growing smaller every second and the echoes of his terrified scream more distant. Finally his body shrank to a speck and simply disappeared into the dark abyss.

Rikus ignored the vision as best he could and continued to shuffle along the ledge. Halfway across, the mul pictured not his own brawny form falling into the chasm, but Neeva’s. He saw her bounce offt the cliff once, twice, then silently plunge head-first into the abyss. He shook his head to clear it, then continued forward. To his surprise, he found that the muscles in his knees were quivering.

When he was most of the way across, Rikus’s lead foot slipped as he placed his weight on it. He let out a short yell, then his fingers caught hold of the rocky handholds and prevented his fall. Rikus’s legs began to tremble. He found himself breathing hard and fast, and his vision was filled with white spots. The mul closed his eyes and held onto his handholds so tightly that his forearms ached.

Agis crept up beside Rikus. “What’s wrong?” the noble asked. “Do you need help?”

“No!” he hissed, keeping his eyes closed. “I’m fine. How are Neeva and Sadira?”

“Better than us, I think,” Agis replied. “They’ve tied themselves together.”

“What? that’s stupid,” Rikus said, opening his eyes. “If one of them falls, she’ll pull the other off.”

Agis’s grim face was perspiring with the bitter sweat of fear. Like Rikus, he gripped the rocks so tightly that the veins on his forearms bulged. The noble’s knees were also shaking, though not nearly as badly as the mul’s.

Although it made him perilously dizzy, Rikus tilted his head back so he could see the two women. They had roped themselves together and were working their way across the ledge in a much calmer fashion than the men. First Neeva moved ahead the length of the rope. Sadira waited behind, watching the other woman intently, prepared to cast a spell that would save them both from falling. When Neeva neared the end of the rope, she found a suitable place to brace herself. As Sadira came along behind, the gladiator took up the rope and remained ready to catch the smaller woman the instant she misstepped.

“Not a bad idea,” Rikus said approvingly.

“I wonder if we should try something similar,” Agis replied.

Rikus glanced over his shoulder at his satchel, then looked between his feet at the darkening depths of the abyss. “You feel like digging your rope out of your bag?”

Agis also looked down. “I don’t think so.”

“Me neither,” Rikus replied. “We’ll just have to do the best we can alone.”

The mul returned to shuffling across the ledge. Soon, Rikus smelled a strange fragrance, an earthy odor he had never known before. It seemed sweet and sour at the same time, with undertones of both perfume and decay. Rikus looked westward. Anezka waited a short distance ahead, where the ledge crossed the corner of the mountan.

Behind her, a fuzzy silhouette ran the entire length of the ridge. It looked like a roiling, greenish cloud hanging close upon the ground. At certain times, the shapes protruding from it reminded Rikus vaguely of the rare tree he had seen in the Tyr Valley, but he had never seen one writhe and twist as these seemed to be doing.

As he came closer, Rikus heard the wild cackles and squeals of strange creatures. The wind now carried something the gladiator had never before felt on his skin: a cold mist. The air was heavy with the scent of a recent rain, and the mul could see now that the strange silhouette running along the top of the ridge was, in fact, the crown of a forest-a forest that seemed to be dancing, but a forest nonetheless.

The mul could not count the number of times they had crested similar ridges or saddles in the last week. Each time they expected to see the great halfling woodland spread out before them, but discovered only the rocky slopes of an even higher mountain hidden behind the one they had just crossed. Filled with joy and excitement now, Rikus looked back and gave Agis a broad smile. “Were there!” he said, pointing toward the ridge.

The mul’s foot slipped, unexpectedly shifting half of his weight onto the hand still clinging to the rock face. His fingers peeled away from the handhold. Painfully they scraped along a series of tiny sharp ridges on the rocky face, vainly clutching at each minuscule rib as they passed.

Rikus toppled backward.

The cliff fell out of reach as the mul found himself looking straight up into the azure sky. The peak’s distant summit flashed before his eyes. Agis called his name.

Rikus watched his feet tumble over his head, then the maroon depths of the chasm were rushing up to meet him. Distantly he heard Neeva and Sadira screaming, and even thought he heard a soprano trill from Anezka’s direction. Rikus somersaulted again and glimpsed Agis glowering with intense concentration, pointing one long finger at him.

It seemed to Rikus that his heart stopped beating. A sick, giddy feeling of terror gorged his stomach, and the sound of his own screaming filled his ears. He wished for the only thing that a man could wish for under such circumstances, to die of fright before his body erupted into a red spray on the boulders far below.

As the mul tumbled over again, a circle of blackness opened beneath him. He plunged into it. An icy blast knocked the air from his lungs. Passing through the dark tunnel, Rikus had enough time to wonder where the circle had come from. An instant later his body smashed into the ground.

His breath shot from his lungs, and his body erupted into agony. The mul curled into a fetal position. To his surprise, the pain continued. He felt himself sliding down a steep slope. When he opened his eyes, he saw green ferns and black, rich soil beneath his cheeks.

A pair of tiny strong hands gripped his shoulders and stopped his descent. Rikus looked up. The soft, familiar features of a small, wild-eyed face greeted him.

“Anezka?” he gasped, finding to his amazement that he could still breath.

The halfling scowled, then nodded. Bracing her feet on either side of Rikus’s shoulders, she pulled him into a more or less seated position. The mul gasped at the sight before his eyes.

The mountains on this side of the range were even steeper than those facing Tyr. Instead of barren yellow-orange rocks, the slopes were covered by a dense forest of indigo-needled conifers. These towering trees looked as though they were performing some primitive, gyrating dance. Their red trunks were segmented by pivoting joints that creaked and groaned as the powerful wind contorted them into an endless succession of shapes.

There were also smaller trees-at least Rikus assumed them to be trees-with large, white-barked trunks shaped like balls. From the tops of these globes rose sprays of huge fronds covered with heart-shaped leaves.

Long strings of moss dangled off the boughs of both kinds of trees. From these damson strands sprouted an astounding array of colorful mushrooms, most shaped like bells and as big around as Rikus’s fist. On the ground flourished a puffy, billowing mass of yellow undergrowth.

In the distance, more than a dozen steep ridges covered with the same profuse vegetation reared up, presenting themselves to Rikus.

A great cloud covered the base of the mountains like an immense blanket of cotton, glowing rosy pink with the light of the setting sun. This cloud sent tendrils of thick mist creeping into every one of the deep valleys lying between the ridges ahead.

Rikus barely noticed when Agis stepped up behind him. “Sorry for the rough landing.”

The mul paid no attention to the apology. “It’s a good thing Anezka came with us,” he said, pointing at the vast forest below. “Without her, we’d never be able to find Nok in all those trees.”