The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [146]
“What are we to do?” Pietr asked while staring off toward the horizon—eastward, toward home.
Nikandr poked the fire, causing the logs to shift and sparks to drift on the brisk night wind. “Take stock of our surroundings. Build shelter.”
“Forgive me, my Prince, but that is not what I meant. How will we return home? No one knows where we’ve gone. Even your mother, may the ancients watch over her, will not be able to find us.”
“I know what you meant, but we have the men to consider first. We make shelter, we prepare defenses, and we take what the ancients provide for us.”
“But with no ship...”
“I know. The man we were chasing, it seems, is now our sole source of hope. We will search for him as well. He will be headed for Alayazhr, and so shall we.”
“With his ship, he’ll already be there.”
“Don’t be so sure. This place—if legend is to be believed—is wild, untamable. Greater men than Ashan have tried over the centuries.”
Pietr nodded. “If we come across his trail, Lord, I’ll be able to lead you to him. Have no doubt of that.”
In the morning, Nikandr waited as long as he could, hoping that Jahalan would wake so that he could speak with him, even if only for a short time, but the need to find Ashan was more pressing by far than comforting his old friend, and so he left with Pietr and two other men: Kirilai and Oleg.
They forged their way through dense growth near the shore, but this soon gave way to an ancient forest with a tall canopy high above them. The temperature soon forced them to remove their shirts. The smell of rotting wood filled the oppressive air. Small, biting insects plagued them as Pietr led the way, using a short but serviceable sword to hack a path through the undergrowth.
They came to a sharp rise and were about to follow it upward to higher ground when the earth began to shake beneath their feet. It soon became clear that it was coming closer, so they hid behind the fallen trunk of a massive, decaying tree.
Nikandr glanced to his right and saw his own fear reflected in the face of Kirilai. Ahead, a flock of white birds with long blue tails took flight and flapped noisily away. The ground thrummed. The palm fronds they were peering through fluttered in time, and soon they saw it—a hulking body made of dark earth took long strides toward them. It had four stout arms and two massive legs that looked like the ripped-up roots of trees more than they did earth. The creature—some sort of vanahezhan—slowed and finally came to a stop, as if its mass were incapable of concise movement. It scanned the forest, and Nikandr had the distinct impression it was looking for them. He knew, as did the other men, that there would be no fighting this thing. They had two pistols among them, and a fair amount of shot, but without a good deal of iron or an Aramahn qiram to protect them, their only real choices were to hide or flee.
They remained stock still as the creature lumbered forward. It lowered its bulk to its arms so that it was resting on all six appendages like some huge earthen insect. Four pits within the head twinkled like gems as it moved its head back and forth, and Nikandr wondered if this were its equivalent to smelling—akin to what Berza would do while hunting grouse.
Nikandr swallowed as it scrabbled forward, moving its head back and forth. Along the vanahezhan’s soil-skin were tiny green plants with toothed leaves that opened like a clam shell. As the creature swayed, some of them clamped down, catching tiny insects in their jaws.
Next to him, Kirilai’s breath was coming in short gasps. Nikandr squeezed his forearm, willing him to remain silent. But when the creature took another step forward, it became too much. Kirilai stood and sprinted away.
The vanahezhan galloped forward and leapt easily over the tall log. Kirilai, in his panic, released a long, high-pitched wail. He ran behind a tree, and Nikandr lost sight of him for a moment, but the galloping mound of earth caught up to