unstable tower. They watched the others try to stay shaded.
“ You said you have a theory,” he said to Ankharra. His own voice sounded dreary and distant. “About where we are?”
Ankharra stared off. She didn’t seem to have heard him. The hot wind rippled her clothing and pressed it tight against her body. Even covered with sweat and bruised from the crash she was a stunning creature, tall and thin, voluptuous and athletic, dark eyes the perfect complement to her olive skin. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer Ankharra said: “I was born here, in this land. My parents made the Long Voyage when I was very young.”
“In this land…” Cross said. He tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying, but couldn’t, like the heat had leeched the power from his brain. He shook himself and focused, and the answer came. “Nezzek’duul,” he said. She folded her arms around herself as if suddenly cold, and nodded. “That’s impossible,” he said. “That means we’re thousands of miles from home.”
SEVEN
VOICES
Danica and Grail found Ronan and the others two decks up from the bottom of the ship, where they pulled med kits and canned rations from the ruined quarters. Bodies were everywhere, impaled or crushed where the hull had collapsed in the crash. It took a few minutes to get everyone back out in the open, at which point Cross and Ankharra took Danica, Ronan and Creasy aside and explained where they thought they’d wound up.
“Are you kidding me?” was all she could think to say.
“ I was born here,” Ankharra said. “Not in this area, of course. I’m from the city of Hexatharadraphia.”
“ You made that up just now, didn’t you?” Danica said.
Ankharra gave her a look.
“How far is it from here?” Cross asked.
“ I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m not even certain we are in Nezzek’duul, but that’s what my instincts tell me. I’m open to other theories.”
“ What does Wiley think?” Danica asked. “I mean, he is the surveyor, right? Have we had a chance to run this by him?”
“ No,” Ankharra said. “Cross and I just figured this out a few minutes ago.”
Danica looked at Cross, and he shrugged. It was so strange to see him with longer hair. It reached almost to his shoulders, all wild and unkempt, and his beard was still thick and scraggly. It was a surprisingly good look for him, lending him the appearance of some sort of mountain man.
Stop it , she told herself . You made your decision. Keep your distance.
“ And what led you to this conclusion, Ankharra?” Danica asked. She didn’t worry about the iciness in her tone – Ankharra held no illusions about how she felt about her.
They stood in the shadow of the downed airship, its aft end on the canyon floor as it leaned against the western cliff. The sun was unbearably hot, and Danica smelled roasting dirt and sand. The landscape was dark and riddled with broken rocks and brambles. Striated layers on the ground showed where the wind had pummeled the area and blasted what appeared to have once been a hilly region into a largely flattened waste. South of the shadowy cliffs and toothed hills the world was a black desert of ebon sand and twisted stones and a solitary road, which bent off into the heat haze of the south. Tumbleweeds and twisted branches blew in the distance like ghosts.
“My spirit recognizes the air,” Ankharra said. “Or at least he thinks he does. I haven’t been here since I was a child, and my spirit had barely formed at that time, but I’m certain we aren’t in Southern Claw territory.”
Danica nodded, and looked at Creasy. She’d only done a precursory reconnoiter, but Creasy had conducted a quick search of the shadowy hills to the north.
“I agree,” the soft-spoken Wolftown man said. “I’ve lived in most of the lands east of Rimefang
“ You said you have a theory,” he said to Ankharra. His own voice sounded dreary and distant. “About where we are?”
Ankharra stared off. She didn’t seem to have heard him. The hot wind rippled her clothing and pressed it tight against her body. Even covered with sweat and bruised from the crash she was a stunning creature, tall and thin, voluptuous and athletic, dark eyes the perfect complement to her olive skin. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer Ankharra said: “I was born here, in this land. My parents made the Long Voyage when I was very young.”
“In this land…” Cross said. He tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying, but couldn’t, like the heat had leeched the power from his brain. He shook himself and focused, and the answer came. “Nezzek’duul,” he said. She folded her arms around herself as if suddenly cold, and nodded. “That’s impossible,” he said. “That means we’re thousands of miles from home.”
SEVEN
VOICES
Danica and Grail found Ronan and the others two decks up from the bottom of the ship, where they pulled med kits and canned rations from the ruined quarters. Bodies were everywhere, impaled or crushed where the hull had collapsed in the crash. It took a few minutes to get everyone back out in the open, at which point Cross and Ankharra took Danica, Ronan and Creasy aside and explained where they thought they’d wound up.
“Are you kidding me?” was all she could think to say.
“ I was born here,” Ankharra said. “Not in this area, of course. I’m from the city of Hexatharadraphia.”
“ You made that up just now, didn’t you?” Danica said.
Ankharra gave her a look.
“How far is it from here?” Cross asked.
“ I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m not even certain we are in Nezzek’duul, but that’s what my instincts tell me. I’m open to other theories.”
“ What does Wiley think?” Danica asked. “I mean, he is the surveyor, right? Have we had a chance to run this by him?”
“ No,” Ankharra said. “Cross and I just figured this out a few minutes ago.”
Danica looked at Cross, and he shrugged. It was so strange to see him with longer hair. It reached almost to his shoulders, all wild and unkempt, and his beard was still thick and scraggly. It was a surprisingly good look for him, lending him the appearance of some sort of mountain man.
Stop it , she told herself . You made your decision. Keep your distance.
“ And what led you to this conclusion, Ankharra?” Danica asked. She didn’t worry about the iciness in her tone – Ankharra held no illusions about how she felt about her.
They stood in the shadow of the downed airship, its aft end on the canyon floor as it leaned against the western cliff. The sun was unbearably hot, and Danica smelled roasting dirt and sand. The landscape was dark and riddled with broken rocks and brambles. Striated layers on the ground showed where the wind had pummeled the area and blasted what appeared to have once been a hilly region into a largely flattened waste. South of the shadowy cliffs and toothed hills the world was a black desert of ebon sand and twisted stones and a solitary road, which bent off into the heat haze of the south. Tumbleweeds and twisted branches blew in the distance like ghosts.
“My spirit recognizes the air,” Ankharra said. “Or at least he thinks he does. I haven’t been here since I was a child, and my spirit had barely formed at that time, but I’m certain we aren’t in Southern Claw territory.”
Danica nodded, and looked at Creasy. She’d only done a precursory reconnoiter, but Creasy had conducted a quick search of the shadowy hills to the north.
“I agree,” the soft-spoken Wolftown man said. “I’ve lived in most of the lands east of Rimefang
Similar Books
