Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [94]
“The Malfegor?” Rafiq was incredulous. “He’s still alive?”
“He’s always existed, as far as our history is concerned. Malfegor is older than all our stories.”
“He’s in my people’s stories, as well,” said Rafiq. “But in our scripture, the angel Asha gave her life to destroy him.”
“If only that were true,” said Salay, groggy but awake.
“So I think we should give him a wide berth. Head in the other direction. Or maybe we can just make a life here in Esper.”
Rafiq’s eyes were far away. “No,” he said. “We need to follow that army.”
“What?” said Levac and Salay together.
“In fact, we need to get ahead of it if we can. I think I know where Malfegor might be headed.”
NAYA
Marisi moved with his swarm of nacatl warriors to the Qasali Valley. There he would find the last pride of Wild Nacatl left, the only one that he hadn’t rallied under his banner of legend. He had saved it for last purposefully. He knew the pride would be gripped by fear and grief—it was there that Bolas’s magic had been used directly. It was there that the kha Jazal, greatest threat to Marisi’s legacy, had been assassinated, partly by his own actions. He didn’t know whether opinion had turned against the name of Marisi, or whether they would also embrace the knowledge that he was alive. He knew that the shaman-witch Chimamatl lived there, which would work in his favor; his deeds would help her son’s quest to become kha of the pride. But he also knew that the white-furred Ajani was from that pride; he was not anxious to see him again.
To be safe, he ordered his army of warriors in first.
“By the proclamation of war-kha Marisi, your pride is ordered to submit all its able warriors to join his army,” said Marisi’s envoy.
“What is the cause of this?” said the pride’s representative, the nacatl called Tenoch.
“The Cloud Nacatl have caused the earth to quake with their unholy magics,” said the envoy. “Marisi has risen from the dead to resume his fight against this tyranny. We go to war against the Cloud Nacatl once again.”
The ruse was enough. The fear caused by Jazal’s death, and the recent movements of elves, behemoths, and the earth itself had prepared the pride for change. Marisi felt confident enough that he emerged personally from behind his army, and the last pride of Wild Nacatl cheered his return. Marisi roared, his warrior spirit kindled by the show of fierce camaraderie, and hundreds of nacatl joined in Marisi’s roar of rebellion.
Only one among them said nothing. Zaliki watched as her pride, her extended family, dissolved into Marisi’s army. She had never met Marisi, but she knew of him—and the thought of him burned her heart. Without a word to anyone, she stole up to Jazal’s lair. There she gathered Jazal’s notes, the documents representing Jazal’s research into the legends and prophecies of nacatl and Naya, and slipped away into the wilderness.
BANT
Mubin’s wagon came to a halt outside the grounds of the palace of Aarsil the Blessed. He could hear the four leotau roar with relief after the long ride.
“We’re here, sir,” said the wagon driver.
Mubin looked out. It was dusk. Through the gate, he could see the Twelve Trees of Valeron lined up in two tidy rows of six across a long reflection pool, the pool reflecting the dying light of day. Each twisted tree symbolized both a noble family of Valeron and a virtue to live by. And if Mubin was right, each one hid an ancient, crucial secret.
The wagon driver unhitched the largest, strongest leotau from the wagon, and brought it around for Mubin. With difficulty, they got Mubin into the saddle. The leotau was tired, but it knew its duty; it held Mubin’s weight proudly and didn’t stumble.
“Thank you,” Mubin said to the driver. “Make camp. We’ll leave again in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” said the driver.
Mubin hoped that Aarsil the Blessed would hear his arguments. He rode up to the castle. The guard waved him through the gate.
Aarsil came out to meet him.
“Mubin of the Reliquary,” she said. “I got your note. I was very sorry