Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,73
made with tropical fruit before. He’d never had tropical fruit before! And it was with a heavy heart that he wished for more time to explore these new places, experience these new things with his new friends.
Everything had changed from all he’d ever known, and if, at the end of all this, he could still call Crow, Elmwood, and Samiel his friends, then maybe it wasn’t a curse after all.
A short while later, an old man appeared at the door. He had wrinkled bronzed skin, his hair in locks like tree roots. His dark eyes were kind and wise, he wore Southlands’ green, and he held a book in his hands.
Elmwood stood. “Oaken, please meet my friends. Kings of the North and West, Crow and Tancho. This is Oaken, my mentor.”
“An honour,” he said, his voice like the rustle of leaves. “Elmwood, boy, a shirt in the presence of company.”
Elmwood grinned and rolled his eyes, and a guard appeared almost immediately, holding out the olive-green sleeveless vest Tancho had seen him wear in Aequi Kentron. He pulled it on over his head, the fabric stretched tight over his broad torso.
Oaken held out the book. “What you seek.”
Elmwood put his hand on Oaken’s shoulder. “My good man, we are headed east to see Samiel, and I wish you to join me. If anyone knows what secrets our histories hold, it is you.”
Poor Oaken’s eyes went wide. “East?”
“Through the magick doorway,” Elmwood replied. “Apparently. Days or weeks of travel now takes only seconds.”
Oaken was clearly sceptical and perhaps a little afraid, but he nodded dutifully. “As you wish.”
Tancho smiled at them. He really did like Elmwood, and like Crow, he would love the opportunity to come back and spend time in the jungles, getting to know Elmwood and his people, and learn his customs.
Perhaps Elmwood’s thoughts had taken him down a similar path. “So, what do you think the Eastlands will be like?”
“Hopefully the air won’t be so wet,” Soko said, sweating and flushed. “I see now why you forgo the sleeves on your shirt.”
Elmwood laughed at that, a loud barking sound. “I fear I’d freeze to death in your homelands.”
Kohaku nodded. “Can confirm. So beautiful, but so, so cold.”
“I will see it one day,” Elmwood declared with a nod. “Though something more pressing . . . Do you think Samiel will be pleased to see us?”
Crow chuckled. “Samiel, yes. Her welcoming party, not so much.”
And Crow was not wrong.
Once Elmwood and his two guards were ready, it was time for Maghdlm to open the doorway. She chanted, “Aperire ad orientalum,” murmuring it over and over. And to the sound of many gasps in the grand hall, the arrow in the outer ring of the tiled compass moved toward the E, slowly grating into place.
With a pinch from her small pouch, she sprinkled some elemental dust onto the floor and spoke the magick words. Purple sparks lit the room and formed a circle, spinning as it grew bigger, big enough to walk through.
Tancho could see to the other side, yellow stone walls and figures in red running and standing in formation. “Do not raise your swords,” Crow warned in a low voice.
Soko, Karasu, and Kohaku stepped through first, then Tancho and Crow, followed by Elmwood and his two men, Oaken, and Maghdlm at the rear. They found themselves surrounded by red uniforms, shields, spears and swords, and brave but frightened faces.
“We are allies,” Crow announced. “The kings of Northlands, Westlands, and Eastlands, to speak to Samiel. If you would be so gracious as to let her know we are here. We bring word from Aequi Kentron.”
From amidst the wall of shields and weapons came a single tall figure, clad in red and moving with such grace and confidence. Samiel stood there, staring, her expression neutral, her hand raised as if about to give the order for her guards to strike. And for a heart-stopping moment, Tancho thought she might do exactly that.
But then she smiled and the mood in the room relaxed immediately. “That is one impressive entrance, my friends. Now, what is this news you speak of?”
Chapter Seventeen
The Eastlands was just as beautiful as every other land Crow had seen. Whereas the Westlands was picturesque stone arch bridges over thousands of rivers, and the Southlands was jungles and forests with tree houses and sky bridges, the Eastlands was yellow and red sand dunes, mighty and striking in its own right. The golden glow of the sun made it prettier still.
Samiel’s castle