Down a Lost Road

chapter 7 – Akhmar


I trudged in silence behind Yatol, caught up in my own rambling thoughts. I had long since lost track of the time, and nothing around me ever seemed to change to remind me of the distance we had come. I only saw the sand swirling in pathetic clouds around my feet, settling quickly to the ground in the dead still air. Yatol kept up a brisk pace, only occasionally glancing back to make sure I wasn’t lagging too far behind.

My sandal tapped on a piece of parched earth. What happened to the sand? I stared around in surprise. Took another step forward. And where I’d expected more solid ground, my leg sank to the knee in a shifting pit of…yep. Sand. Fantastic.

I tugged violently at my leg. I couldn’t move it at all. Yatol walked on, oblivious. He was going to keep going, and I would be stuck here forever. Maybe there were scorpions. Or snakes. I could feel beady eyes watching me already, waiting for Yatol to disappear so they could snack on me. But I couldn’t call for help. Couldn’t let him see me thrashing around like a frog in quicksand. I gave my leg one final yank. It released so suddenly that I fell to hands and knees, blinking and coughing while a film of dust settled on my face. I must have looked absolutely pathetic when Yatol suddenly swung around.

“I forgot to mention it, but watch out for the sand pits.”

He turned, but not quickly enough to hide the silent laughter on his lips. I glowered at his back. Okay. I probably looked pretty ridiculous, no thanks to him. I grinned as I trailed after him, hopping from plate to solid plate.

A few minutes later and all my good humor squelched in dull irritation. I was sick of walking. Sick of sand.

I swear I’ll never go to another beach as long as I live.

Thirst gave me a splintering headache, but I could hardly force myself to drink the tasteless water from my waterskin. The tepid liquid made my stomach knot in disgust. And after a while I realized a rough abrasion was forming on my foot under the sandal straps. It burned like crazy, like a hundred pins were jabbing and tearing my skin. Yatol turned back once more, but I couldn’t tell if he watched me long enough to see me limping along. At any rate, he didn’t seem worried enough to slow down. For a while it even felt like he had sped up the pace.

Somehow I forced myself to keep going. I’m sure things could have gotten much worse, but when I glanced up to make sure I hadn’t lagged too far behind, I found Yatol waiting for me on top of a mound of dark clay – a big heap of clay, right in the middle of flat nowhere. And Yatol just sat there carelessly, as if he’d been there for hours, arms crossed and mouth twitched upward in the strangest expression of amusement.

“Come on up, Merelin!” he called down to me. “We can’t wait around till nightfall.”

“Ouch,” I yelped. I stumbled up and scrabbled vainly at the mound with useless bandaged fingers, muttering, “Is that the royal ‘we,’ Yatol?”

I didn’t hear an answer.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Waiting for you.”

I grumbled and made a few attempts at climbing up. No luck. Every outcropping of mud I tried to grasp crumbled under my hold, every patch of rough dirt turned slick and smooth under my feet. After the fifth failure, I stepped back and gazed up at Yatol, shading my eyes.

“So, why can’t I just walk around it? I can’t get up.”

“I need you up here.”

I let out my breath in exasperation. “You’re crazy! How did you get up there? Mind lending me a hand?”

“You’re taking it for granted. It will never help you if you take it for granted.”

“All right, you really are crazy. You talk like it can think and feel. It’s just mud!”

This time I could hear Yatol laugh. I had never heard him laugh like that, deep and rippling like a bell. Then I realized it wasn’t Yatol’s voice at all. I leapt back.

“Who did that?”

“He did.”

“He?”

Using the word for impetus I jumped to catch a handhold, and found myself sprawled across the broad back of an enormous fire-hued creature. I lurched upright, then sat absolutely frozen, staring wide-eyed at Yatol. Cautiously, I let my gaze drift down to the silky crimson mane, then I got nervous again and looked back at Yatol. He was laughing now, as I kept staring from him to the creature in disbelief.

“But…but…” I stammered idiotically, and couldn’t think of anything to say.

“We’re ready now, Akhmar,” Yatol said, swinging his leg over the creature’s neck to sit astride.

“Ready for wh—”

Akhmar stirred, and in two strides had leapt into a gallop. Dizzyingly fast. I instinctively clamped my legs against the thing’s flanks and closed my eyes, only to open them again and find myself clinging frantically to Yatol. I jerked my hands away from his torso, terrified of aggravating his wounds, but I had to keep hold of his shirt.

“Yatol,” I said suddenly. “You spoke English to him.”

He grinned at me over his shoulder. “Do you really think I know your language that well?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know? You’ve been speaking the language of Arah Byen since you returned.”

“I what?”

The bell-like laugh rang out again – it was like the sound of pure joy.

“But when…but how did I learn?”

“I don’t know,” Yatol said. “Maybe you always knew it. Sometimes strange things like that happen here. Believe me, this isn’t the strangest.”

“Does Akhmar talk?”

“Of course,” came a beautiful voice.

I couldn’t say anything else. I thought, though. But then I realized I was more interested in finding out what language I was thinking in than the actual thoughts. I couldn’t tell. It all seemed the same. The idea made my head spin, as much as the sight of the ground flying past beneath Akhmar’s huge paws.

The landscape blurred past, all the same – sandy dunes with the occasional broad plateau of cracked mud marching out toward the horizon. For a while I gazed around ceaselessly, in the constant expectation that something new would appear. But nothing changed, and the dazzling brightness of the sand wearied my eyes. I closed them at last, to soothe the burning. I felt the gentle rolling motion of Akhmar’s pace, heard the constant thud of his paws on the baked earth, saw the land unchanging around us whenever I opened my eyes. It was the perfect soporific.

I woke under the shade of a fern-like plant. At first I couldn’t remember where I was, or how I had gotten there, but then I remembered Akhmar and realized I must have fallen asleep while we rode. It amazed me that I hadn’t tumbled off and killed myself.

I tilted my head and found Yatol sitting cross-legged by a little pool of water, talking to Akhmar. For the first time I could actually see the beautiful creature’s face, but it was his eyes that gripped me the most. Even across the distance they seemed so clear, deep-hued gold with flecks of radiant light, calm and infinite, piercing.

He was gazing full at me through those eyes. “Our friend has woken,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, a strange deep peace flooded through me, and I wandered over to sit near them.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Almost half the day,” Yatol said.

“That long?”

“You needed the rest.”

I glanced again at Akhmar. His lucid gold eyes now fixed on something far in the distance, something too remote for either of us to see. In the dying daylight his crimson coat seemed to be on fire. I couldn’t say if he were winged – there were certainly no physical wings you could touch or see distinctly. But arching over his back were the faintest glimmers of light like flames, which would have been almost invisible unless you thought to look for them. And his face, so beautiful, almost human but somehow so ethereal, so terrible even, that it didn’t seem human at all. I just wanted to gaze at him, but the feeling was somehow frightening. I stared at the quiet pool of water instead.

Presently Akhmar stood, raking his huge paws on the dusty earth.

“Wait here,” he said. “I will return soon.”

And just like that he left us, bounding away with long, powerful strides. Part of me longed to run after him. But I didn’t move, or couldn’t, and soon Akhmar had vanished. After a while Yatol got up, dragging down the low-hanging branch of a nearby tree and plucking a few pieces of fruit from it. He tossed one to me, and bit into his just like an apple.

“What, you’re not going to cook for me?” I teased.

He canted his head to spear me a withering look, then I could have sworn he rolled his eyes as he glanced away. The fruit he held at his lips didn’t succeed in hiding his smile, though. I grinned and sank my teeth into the piece of fruit. My inner voice worried that if this was all we were going to have for dinner, I was in trouble. Still, it tasted delicious, subtly sweet like papaya, juicy like a nectarine. And for the moment, at least, it settled the hunger pangs in my stomach.

“Where’d Akhmar go?” I asked presently.

Yatol lifted his face to the red sky, his eyes flickering. I shivered. In that light, with those brilliant eyes of his, his face seemed almost like a diminished echo of Akhmar’s.

“He’ll be back.”

Not exactly an answer, but hey, it was something.

I took a few long sips of water from the pool – it was cold and perfectly clear, and so much more drinkable than the lukewarm stuff from my waterskin. My instinct was to gorge myself on it, but I knew enough to resist the urge. I drank a few more sips, and then returned to the broad-leafed plant. It reminded me of those giant elephant-ear shrubs my mom grew on Earth – I shuddered involuntarily – but its leaves were a pure, marbled gold. I laid down and gazed up through its fronds at the darkening sky, while a gentle breath of wind fanned my sore and burning face.

“I’ve never seen any clouds here,” I said. “Does it ever rain?”

“It rains, of course,” said Yatol, leaning back against the trunk of a squat silver tree. “Not often here in the desert. More often it just gets scorching winds and these long months of dry heat.”

“Is it always this hot?”

I shot a glance at him, half-afraid of annoying him with my questions. A wicked little part of me wanted to annoy him. But he didn’t seem perturbed. He smiled a little, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, and I figured that was as much of an answer as I could hope for.

But then he said, “No.”

I might die of shock. I waited for some elaboration, but that was it. I made a face.

“So…does it get cold?”

“No.”

I groaned audibly, smacking my forehead. Then I heard a quiet sound and propped myself on my elbows to stare at him. “Yatol, are you laughing at me?”

There was the slightest pause, then his voice drifted over to me, “Yes.”

Grinning idiotically, I flopped back onto the ground. I tilted my head and gazed slowly from one side of the sky to the other. The dim sun still lingered by the horizon no higher than I had first seen it that morning. I finally realized that the subtle darkness shadowing the world wasn’t night at all, but like a veil over the bright sky so that the creatures of Arah Byen could sleep. I thought I saw one of the moons on the far horizon, then realized it was Akhmar still gleaming as though on fire, returning from wherever he had gone.

“Look,” I said. “Akhmar is coming back.”

Yatol made some noise of affirmation but said nothing.

“Yatol, what is he?”

I tried to guess what Yatol would say – if anything. I thought maybe some mythical creature, like a sphinx or manticore, but I’d always thought manticores would look vicious. Akhmar was anything but frightening, at least not in the horrific kind of way.

“He is one of the Powers.”

I jolted upright. “He’s a what?”

“He is one of the Brethren.”

They’re real. An icy tingling washed over me, and I found myself shivering. I turned my gaze back to Akhmar, as though seeing him for the first time. He was far more formidable and beautiful than I could ever have imagined while on Earth – this time the idea didn’t make me shudder. I felt giddy with the strangest jumbled sensation of joy and wonder and admiration.

“Does he always appear as a…what do you call that? A sphinx?”

“Sphinx? I’ve never heard of it. We call that form a shedim. It’s his chosen aspect here.”

“Only here?”

He said nothing.

“So, why did he look like that mound of dirt earlier?”

Yatol laughed. “No reason, really. You would’ve been able to see him like this from the start, but I thought it might be too shocking to see all at once. He often hides that way when he comes among us, and the people who can’t see the Brethren would see only dirt, or stones, and never know the difference.”

“Some people can’t see him?” I asked. “Why not?”

“It’s a gift – given to some, withheld from others.”

“But everyone knows that some people can see him?”

I heard him sigh. “Some people don’t believe it. Some people despise those of us who can, and call us deceivers and cast us out of our homes.”

I knew I should shut up and let the matter drop, but I couldn’t. “Why?”

“Would you expect them to do otherwise? Really?”

I frowned, trying to imagine how I would react if I were one of the non-gifted people, or if it happened on Earth. I’d probably judge, too. I’d probably think those people were certifiable crazies. But now it made me furious, because apparently I was one of the whackjobs.

“But why not try to prove it? I’m sure Akhmar could reveal himself if he really wanted to, and prove you right.”

“What good would that do?” Yatol asked. “It’s not about us.”

“Yes, it is! If people turn on you for something like that, then it is about you, and you should do something about it.”

“It’s a gift, Merelin. We can’t make demands on the basis of a gift.”

“Maybe you just like being persecuted because it makes you feel special,” I snapped.

I regretted the words. I don’t know why I was so enraged. It was idiotic to be angry at someone when you were really just angry for them, but I couldn’t help it. And when Yatol never answered a word, I could still feel his frustration. Well, I’d given him every reason to hate me. Stupid, stupid.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but the word stuck in my throat. I sighed and rolled over, hating the tense silence surrounding me. Akhmar arrived not a moment too soon, and dropped onto the ground by the pool.

“Well,” he said simply.

His voice lingered on the air like the smell of lilacs in a garden, but for some time Yatol persisted in silence. I wondered if Akhmar would be angry with me, too, if he knew what I had said.

“Well,” Yatol echoed, finally. “What did you find?”

“Enhyla. He has heard that you are coming.”

“He has? From Khymranna?”

“No, Tyhlaur.”

“Tyhlaur!”

“He is still with Master Enhyla. If we hurry you might still be able to see him.”

“But I thought he was still on the hunt.”

“He returned just after you left. He is the runner for the outer post now.”

A brief pause, then, “I’ve been wanting to see him for some time now.”

“He said he would wait if he can. Yatol, he does not know. Enhyla has said nothing to him as of yet.”

“Why not?” Yatol sounded surprised.

“It is dangerous, especially as he is a runner. You know they are never told more than need be.”

“I only thought…” His voice died, then he said, “Syarat only told him of me?” It was half-statement, half-question, and Akhmar didn’t answer. “Well, I suppose he shall know soon enough.”

I crept back out of the shadows to sit with them, trying to catch Yatol’s eye. With Akhmar sitting between us, it reminded me of a couple of bickering kids facing each other in front of the school counselor. Maybe I should just pretend it never happened.

“Who are Enhyla and Tyhlaur?” I asked, a peace gesture.

Yatol glanced quietly at me. “Enhyla? He is the Lord Master. And Tyhlaur is my brother.”

After a while I wandered back to my spot. Hours dragged by as I struggled to fall asleep. As exhausted as the day’s walk had made me, I lay awake under the mottled fern, eyes riveted open. Every nerve felt raw, like waking from a nightmare and expecting it to have been real. Once I started the slow drift into sleep, then woke up with a gasp or a sob, I don’t know which. I couldn’t see Akhmar anywhere, and in the subtle heavenshine I curled up and longed for his return. Even seeing Yatol’s barest silhouette by the pool didn’t comfort me. I closed my eyes, and tried to drive away the terror.

I woke with another jolt, like someone had shouted my name. Then I couldn’t do anything to convince myself to lie back down and sleep. My heart raced wildly, and my hands clutched tufts of moss. I untangled my fingers from the crushed plants, the bandages slimy from the green juice. No wind stirred and my face was slick with perspiration, but I felt utterly cold – that deep, penetrating cold of sheer terror.

“Yatol!” I whispered.

I scrambled to my knees, peering through the night, but I couldn’t see him. I got cautiously to my feet and groped my way toward the crystalline pool. Yatol wasn’t there. Again I gave a whispering shout of his name. Finally I glimpsed him crouched on a hillock at the edge of the tiny oasis, staring out into the darkness. I ran to him.

“You should be sleeping,” he said dryly. Was he still angry with me? “We have a long way to go tomorrow, and Akhmar won’t be there to carry us the entire way.”

“Why not?” Without waiting for an answer I rushed on, “There’s something there.”

“Where?”

I jerked my head back toward the elephant-ear plant. “Back there. It’s been keeping me up all night.”

“Your mind is restless. It’s been a long day. Try to get some sleep.”

“No! Yatol, it’s there. Something.”

I gave a shuddering sigh and refused to budge.

“Come on.”

He stood and took me by the hand, leading me back to the plant. If I hadn’t been so terrified I might have felt giddy that he was holding my hand. But it wasn’t that kind of gesture. He scanned the area intently for a few moments, then turned to me with a smile that reminded me all too much of Tony – not quite condescending, but reassuring in an aloof sort of way. That look hurt more than his disbelief.

“You see? There’s nothing here. Go back to sleep.”

I sank onto the ground as he turned away. For a split second everything blanked, and the world froze. My stomach plunged.

“Yatol!”

I felt the scream more than heard it, and I collapsed in a trembling heap with my arms wrapped around my head. The earth heaved with a chaos of noise, carrying on and on until I was sure the world was falling apart. Then all was dark, and still. I lay frozen, unable and unwilling to move. A soft footfall stirred in the sudden silence, and a warm light washed over me.

“Child, rise.”

I stood, motionless, though I wanted more than anything to run to Akhmar and cling to him. But everything languished in peaceful quiet, as though nothing had happened.

“Akhmar, was I dreaming?”

He bent to look me in the eyes, and the terror receded from my heart. I thought he told me, “Have courage,” but I heard nothing, and I knew he hadn’t said it aloud.

“Where is Yatol?”

“He rests.”

“What do you mean, rests? Did he…did he just go back to sleep?”

“To banish an Ungulion alone demands nearly the full strength of a man. Most could not survive so perilous a feat.”

I swallowed, hard. “An Ungulion? There was a… He banished…” I stopped babbling with a violent shudder. “What happened?”

“You know in your heart, Merelin. You felt his presence. Do not fear – he is perished. Yatol destroyed it.”

Akhmar’s gaze shifted, slightly, and it seemed things were a little brighter in the direction he stared. I could just glimpse Yatol’s form where he lay near the pool. He was asleep, or unconscious, but when I approached him I found his face etched with an anguish and a grief that seemed all too awake. I sat down beside him feeling strangely troubled. My hand reached out to touch his cheek, then faltered and fell into my lap.

“Will he be all right, Akhmar? He looks horrible.”

“He will. But be forgiving of him, when he wakes. I fear his heart is as troubled by his doubt of you, as it is wearied by his feat.”

“He can’t blame himself!” I cried. “There’s no reason for that.”

Akhmar smiled. “Reason? Perhaps not.”

“But men are not angels?” I said, feeling that was the natural continuation of his thought.

“Men are not angels,” Akhmar affirmed. “And so men have the chance to be noble, in a way that angels cannot.”

“I don’t feel particularly noble,” I muttered. “I said something I shouldn’t have. Maybe if he hadn’t been angry with me, he wouldn’t have doubted me. It’s my fault.”

“Nothing is beyond mending,” he said. “Sleep now. I shall keep watch here till morning, though it is not necessary. No Ungulion will think to risk so open an approach again.”