Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(135)
The irony was, he would not care less if he never saw the pack or its contents again, but he’d be sad to lose Beetle. He could always make another insectoid, but Beetle was one of the few possessions he still had from his world.
I will return for you, Beetle, he promised silently. But right now he had to get Baluka to safety.
“Where to next?” he asked.
“To meet the generals,” Baluka replied. “Read the path from my mind.”
Tyen did, then pushed away from the world, slipping from their arrival path to Javox’s and back again several times to confuse any pursuers. He did not follow Baluka’s directions exactly, circling and backtracking and taking every opportunity to confuse their trail.
The generals were in a world near to the Worweau Market, through which plenty of market traffic passed so Tyen had plenty of freshly used paths to hide their passing among. They arrived on a hill above a fast-flowing river, from where they hired a place on the robust canoes of traders. The men and women navigated the fast-flowing and treacherous waterway with impressive skill.
Half a local day later the river delivered them onto a vast lake, far from their arrival point. The calm body of water was dotted with numerous floating villages built on reed rafts, some little more than a cluster of houses. According to the traders, the villagers were prone to rearranging the location of their houses on a whim, and sometimes whole villages split or joined together. To help visitors find them, each house occupier flew a pennant featuring a personal design. Frell had told Baluka he would know theirs when he saw it.
Most of the designs related to the water. Sea creatures, flying animals, marine plants and water craft, fishing and boating tools and equipment were common, but plenty of unrelated subjects were included. Some were strange and fantastical. Now and then he or Baluka noticed an unrecognisable design and they would try to guess what it represented without consulting the traders’ minds.
Then Baluka laughed and told the paddlers to stop. As he paid the traders Tyen searched the pennants nearby but saw nothing that suggested the rebels were nearby. He gave up and read Baluka’s mind, then as they approached a house bearing a pennant decorated with a wheel design he chuckled as if finally realising the significance.
“Ah. I guess there aren’t many wheels around here.”
“No, but that’s not what tells me we’ve arrived at the right place. Look closer.”
Tyen did. “The wheel is broken.”
“Yes.” Baluka stopped. “The Traveller symbol for a thousand is a circle with ten spokes. We are hoping to gather a force of over a thousand fighters. One, at least, for every cycle he has lived.”
A thousand cycles… Tyen’s heart skipped as he remembered what Tarren had told him. “Do you believe the prophecy of Millennium’s Rule?”
“Believe? No.” Baluka shrugged. “I doubt there is a mystical force that ensures anything comes to pass. Prophecies, when they’re not about natural disasters that repeat, are about hope. They reassure people that things will not always be as bad as they are. They may even inspire those people to make sure the change happens. Perhaps that means one very powerful sorcerer is kept hidden and protected and trained until he is able to defeat the tyrant. Perhaps it means people who would have been too frightened or doubtful will support him. Or her.”
“If that is true, then sorcerers of the Raen’s strength are born more than once in a thousand cycles.”
“Probably.” Baluka shrugged. “Or maybe it hasn’t ever been a fight of one sorcerer against another. Perhaps many people unite to defeat him and only the most powerful gets the credit for it.” He glanced at Tyen. “Perhaps only the most powerful is remembered because he’s strong enough to become ageless, and so outlives the rest.”
Tyen frowned. “Perhaps he was the only one to survive the battle.”
Baluka grimaced. “That, too, is possible. I hope that is not the outcome this time.”
They had reached the house. It had no door, just a translucent curtain, yet Baluka scratched at the fabric as if unable to resist the habit of knocking. “Anybody home?”
“Come in,” a familiar voice replied.
Baluka grinned and pushed through into the dim interior. Frell, Hapre and Volk were lounging in hanging chairs, smiling and looking far too relaxed for generals of an army planning to attack the strongest sorcerer to exist in a thousand cycles.
Then a fourth chair turned slowly around and as Tyen saw the occupant his stomach turned to ice.
“See?” Resca smiled. “He knows me.”
I am an idiot, Tyen thought. I should have looked ahead to see who was in here, instead of chatting about prophecies. He opened his mouth to object, and to reveal the ally’s true identity, but he stopped as the man’s thoughts revealed his purpose for being there.
“Resca was an ally, but now he wants to join us,” Frell announced. The general’s voice was light, and his expression unconcerned, but as he met Tyen’s gaze he shook his head slightly.
We know about the massacre, he thought, knowing that Tyen would hear. He admitted it. Even apologised. He—
“And is this… your new leader?” Resca exclaimed. He leapt from his chair and knelt before Baluka. “Please, allow me to apologise for all I have done against the rebels–and some of it I admit was terrible. Your, er, friend saw the aftermath of one of my crimes and I would not blame him for hating me, but he is also the one who steered me towards becoming a better person. I am grateful for that, and always will be, despite what I know of him.”