Irregulars - lanyon Josh - Страница 77

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“Ready?” he asked. August gave him a small nod.

Deven took a second to fully accept that, despite everything, he was returning to Aztaw. He was going home, even if only for seconds. Nervous excitement and fear percolated in his throat.

Before he lost his nerve entirely, he quickly drew the symbol of the jaguar. The last beam of light shot upward from the symbol, blinding him in a blaze of white light. The ground dropped from beneath, his stomach lurched upwards, and the party tumbled down into the eternal darkness of Aztaw.

Chapter Sixteen

Suffocating, vice-like heat pushed against Deven’s body. He gasped to draw the thick, burning air into his lungs. Each breath felt like swallowing fire and he coughed, his lungs protesting.

Around him, the coughing gasps of his companions sounded above the distant roar of a black river. His eyes adjusted to the utter darkness quickly, the enchantment spell bringing contour and depth to their surroundings. The agents huddled, reaching out to touch each other in the dark.

“Deven.” August sounded angry. “I can’t see you.”

“It’s fine. We’ll be leaving shortly,” Deven reassured him. He recognized the glow of approaching bones and suspected a raiding party had sensed the portal opening. In the distance he could make out the old palace of Lord River, a massive stone compound at the raging water’s edge, where a prominent pyramid used to stand. But even from afar Deven saw that the pyramid had been destroyed, its masonry pillaged and broken. Above the fortress wall a banner displayed a bony fist, the symbol of the rebellion, hanging limp in the stagnant, dry air.

Aztaw wasn’t large. For a moment, he entertained the idea of returning to Lord Jaguar’s compound. He needed to reassure himself that Fight Arm hadn’t been lying, that despite all odds, Jaguar’s legacy remained. The need to do so nearly overwhelmed him.

But there were fields nearby, Deven noted, and a settlement of civilian Aztaws. Life continued for the general populace, even if the great temples were gone. The heavy air stank of hot corn and cooking fires instead of heated blood and he heard neither crashing armies or human screams—only the murmur of the river and the pleasant hum of distant Aztaw children chanting rhymes.

Maybe being surrounded by humans altered his perspective, but Deven recalled his first impressions as a child. This is not a place for me, he had thought long ago, and after thirteen years, the sentiment held.

“Hurry,” August hissed. Deven snapped back to the task at hand.

He drew a calendar in the air. It burned brightly against the blackness, flush with the magic of the Aztaw world. Even the agents could see it and someone cried out.

“That’s me drawing,” Deven reassured.

“I can’t breathe!” someone complained.

“Take slow, even breaths,” Dr. Hansing suggested.

“I lived here for thirteen years,” Deven reminded them. “There’s enough oxygen and nitrogen in the atmosphere to survive.”

The glowing bones drew closer.

“Who’s coming toward us?” August asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know. Probably a raiding party.” Deven studied the calendars. He found the one he’d noted near Night Axe’s lair and began his connection. “No one move,” he said. “I’m drawing around you.”

One of the agents pulled out a utility knife that resembled August’s, and a beam of light shot forth from the end, scanning the area.

At once, Deven heard the shout of the Aztaw party. They broke into a run.

“Turn that off!” Deven hissed. “They know humans are here now!” He wrote faster, hand trembling and he scored the pen deep into the hard, burned soil. Heart, pig, mirror, crane...his brain struggled against growing exhaustion to remember the intricate pattern of the smoke symbol, which he’d only drawn a few times in his life. His pen lightened in weight and grew icy to the touch. He worked his way around the clustered bodies of the agents, gasping for breath and praying that he had enough strength to fuel the pen for the journey back to the natural world. Sweat broke across his brow and his hair grew damp and heavy. For a moment, he considered using his knife to bleed one of the agents to give his pen the extra power it needed to finish rewriting the calendars. The old Deven wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But he saw August’s grim expression, heard the way he struggled to breathe in the fetid air, and changed his mind. August would hate Deven for doing such a thing, so Deven continued the spell fueled with his power alone, feeling sick with weariness, the pen dangerously brittle in his hand.

“Who is there?” demanded the tallest of the soldiers.

“Human Jaguar,” Deven said. He didn’t stop drawing.

“You have brought your power to ruin us,” the soldier said.

“Take his pen and string him up!” cried another. His glowing bone face came into focus, eyes dark and rolling. One of the agents swore loudly.

“I am taking these humans and leaving,” Deven told them. He nearly dropped the pen to reach for his knife. But he wasn’t sure he had enough strength to defend himself, let alone the other agents. He kept writing. “We mean you no harm.”

“Strange, since your brothers are already mounting a force,” the large soldier said, coming to a halt beside Deven. His thin skin and skull bones were painted with the blue-green color of the rebellion. He bore no symbols of dynastic allegiance, but deep scars etched ruts in the bones around his eye sockets, showing he’d spent many years serving under one lord or another.

Deven looked at the agents. Many had indeed drawn weapons, but the soldiers weren’t giving them second glances, staring only at him.

“Brothers?” Deven asked.

“The House of Jaguar stirs,” the large soldier said. “A barricade is erected. They have begun an assault.”

“I have nothing to do with it.” Deven’s mind struggled to make sense of the information as he drew. Paper, blackfish, feather…His hand shook as it scored images into the ground. His other hand gripped the hilt of his knife.

But the soldiers didn’t attack.

“Night Axe, the Lord of Hurricanes, is on his way to destroy you,” Deven warned. “I will try and stop him, but you must prepare yourself. You have greater enemies than the House of Jaguar.”

“The Houses of Jaguar and Hurricane are one and the same.”

Deven felt something sick twist in his gut. He finished the symbol for fire and stepped into the circle.

Light burst from glyphs and the ground lurched beneath him. Vomit rose up his throat as they moved through contorted time.

Darkness shattered with a blaze of red light and Deven shielded his eyes, muffling his cry of pain. The air was pulled from his lungs.

The portals were mismatched and they dropped from a height of a few feet. Deven landed hard, falling to his knees. Behind him, someone cursed.

The place they had traveled to was very cold, especially in comparison to the suffocating heat of Aztaw. Faint red light emanated from a tunnel to the side of the chamber, but otherwise it was dark.

Deven felt too weak to do more than kneel, breathing hard. The air was chilly and stale but still felt rich with oxygen and moisture compared to Aztaw. He was back in the natural world.

August hovered over Deven, fumbling with his hands out. “You okay?” He blindly felt Deven’s body as if searching for injuries.

No, Deven wanted to say. A sense of betrayal overwhelmed everything.

“Deven?” August sounded worried.

Deven gripped August’s hand and pulled himself up. “I think I know how Night Axe escaped the realm of light.”

August looked as if he were going to ask a question, but then he squinted as someone turned a flashlight on directly into his face.

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