The Ivory Star

Chapter 9

Eric sat bolt upright in his bed. The sound and sting of the slap were fresh on his cheek, and the dreamworld scent of a gurgling stream and a woman's perfume fresh in his nostrils. He lay back down on his bed, trying to sigh away the great weight upon his heart. In the dream he had been sitting beside a giggling brook, surrounded by cataracts of milky flowers that glowed in the moonlight. Someone sat next to him. The sweetness of her scent, the music of her voice as she laughed with him, the rose petal touch of her hand on his. The dark sheen of her long hair, and her alabaster flesh.

He knew who she was without looking at her face. They were just laughing and talking wordlessly, as people do in dreams, and it was comfortable, natural, as if they had done it a thousand times. Slowly, imperceptibly, Eric began to inch closer to her. Their voices faded. Their eyes locked. Their lips brushed only for an instant, and she gasped in outrage, drew back, and struck him across the face. The stinging smack jerked him from sleep.

He touched his cheek with gentle fingers, and lay awake until the cock crowed.

* * *

The party left the roadside inn early that morning. Robinius called back to the innkeeper as they rode away, "Don't forget, Leonidas. When the Great Conjunction draws near, pick up your family and head for Lakeside. You will be safe there!"

The inn was left far behind, and the sun grew warm again, sweltering the men in their padded metal hauberks.

They crested a hill to hear the cacophony of growling, yipping, and barking. A writhing mass of small brownish-red canine beasts clustered about something a few paces from the roadside. Roughly a dozen of them, feeding on the remains of some large carcass.

"Filthy farracs!" Robinius snarled, drawing his sword. He spurred his mount toward the writhing mass of wild dogs, howling. "Away, you filthy sons-of-bitches!"

The farracs scattered like rats, yipping and snarling in protest at the interruption of their repast. Robinius's horse reared at the sight of the mangled carcass, its hooves beating the air.

"Away, blast you!" His bastard sword flashed down, but the vaguely canine sharp was lightning quick, darting away with one last morsel of sun-dried flesh.

Eric glanced at the other men, who did not seem the least bit interested in Robinius's outburst.

The farracs disappeared in the tall grass, and Robinius returned to the ranks.

"I fail to understand your hatred of those animals," Eric said.

"Are you daft?" Robinius asked, shoving his bloodied sword home. "They're filthy carrion eaters!"

"But don't they serve a purpose?"

Robinius snorted in disgust, and said, "And what possible purpose could that be?"

"You said it yourself. They are carrion-eaters."

"Yes, but what of that?"

"Is it not better to remove the carrion?"

Robinius opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again in a moment of realization. He said nothing for a while.

Angus said in English, "I thought you were supposed to be just a military leader."

Eric shrugged. "Maybe the One is supposed to be more than that."

* * *

The column's journey continued through the rest of the day and most of the next. As they traveled, the land grew progressively rougher. The low, rolling hills began to climb higher and higher, with steeper grades and more bare rocks pushing through the thin layer of soil. Cool breezes from the mountains ahead of them made the heat bearable. Their path led them parallel to a river, narrow and fast-moving, a hundred paces or so from the road, flowing toward them out of a large lake that came visible a league or so ahead.