The Phoenix Thief

Chapter 32

For two days they travelled east, up and down over the roots of the mountains. Beside them the Klebbermach rose sharply. The lower reaches of the peaks they walked over ran into the cliffs but never reached the top. Wherever one of the hills grew close, the cliff would rise again, so that even the highest of those lesser hills was topped by a hundred feet of solid stone.

The journey was a misery unlike any Joakim had experienced. His feet had bled and blistered over the flat ground of the plateau, but that unpleasantness paled in comparison to pains he now felt. His left foot in particular gave him trouble as they struggled across ridges and valleys. It felt so swollen he feared infection, painful red skin pushing against the leather of his boot – another roadblock in his plans to escape. In the night, while Restus slumbered, he couldn't summon the will to struggle against his bonds. What was the point, if he couldn't run anyway? Little as he liked it, only the powder could compel him to move on.

At noon on the third day they mounted a particularly steep rise to be greeted by the sight of a second sun, beaming from the top of the Klebbermach to their left.

"What is that?" Turick asked, pulling up his horse sharply. Joakim almost moaned. Constant movement numbed his feet, but stopping reminded him how much they hurt. The powder had almost worn off, the rage and energy it granted him banished by his aching muscles.

"Some stone perhaps," Restus said, "reflecting the sun's rays?"

The next second the light launched into the air, bursting into a song so beautiful it awed Joakim even in his agony. It swept out to wheel above their heads, before disappearing down into a valley beyond their sight.

"The phoenix!" exclaimed Turick. "It must be! I told you, two days into the mountains."

That started another argument between Restus and Turick–more out of habit than malice, Joakim thought. They did not stop for lunch, but trudged on, Joakim's pain growing with each passing step.

They moved across ground even more barren than before. Despite both men's wishes, the land would not let them follow the cliffs. Instead steep rocks and tumbled scree forced them southeast down gullies of hard rocks and sandy earth.

"This could take days!" Restus said. "What if we can't find our way back?"

"Then we leave the horses." Turick's hand scuttled across his head. "And continue on foot. Hopefully the phoenix will reappear so we can pinpoint it."

"And if it doesn't? This plan grows weaker by the moment."

Turick grimaced. "It's the only one we've got."

Restus might have argued on, but as they reached the top of another rise, the sound of human singing reached them, stark and unexpected in this desolate place.

The song was strange, discordant, and in a language Joakim did not recognise, if it was a language at all. It sounded like a tune someone would make up to stave off boredom, a lone human thing in a world long abandoned.

The singer appeared when they descended into the next gully. There they found a man, caked in dirt, squatting, pan in hand, over a stream.

"There, yer see!" he said, glancing up at them without the slightest hint of surprise. "There's gold in these here hills! And Ole Vid's going to find it." For some reason he reminded Joakim of Erstas, but the men looked nothing alike. The stranger's furrowed, filthy face held caramel teeth surrounded by baked-brown skin. Dressed in rags as dirty as the rest of him, with hair so matted it looked like fur, Joakim found himself preparing for the man's stink, but it never reached him. Instead he only caught a trace of ashes.

"A local," Turick said, reaching for the dark medallion beneath his robes. "Perfect."

"There's no need, old boy," Restus said, caught up in one of his more confident hours. "More flies with honey and all that." He turned to address the stranger. "Good afternoon. We wish you well on this fine day. I apologise for my colleague's sourness. We had not thought to meet anyone on this path."