CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
It was past sundown. A vein in Marty’s temple throbbed as he paced back and forth outside the host’s camp. Lowanna was still out there somewhere and he cursed himself for thinking it was a good idea for her to go scouting on her own.
He should have gone with her.
He turned to Kareem, who sat cross-legged on the sand and stared eastward. “Do you see anything?”
“Not yet,” the young man responded.
It was the fifth time Marty had asked.
Somewhere in the darkness a bird cawed. Marty couldn’t see the bird, but knew that the voice belonged to a hawk.
I’m hungry!
Marty winced. Did he have a screw loose? Was he actually understanding what the raptor was saying? Ever since he’d had that euphoric sensation in the ruins, hitting level three, he’d begun hearing meaning in animal cries.
Would he start healing by the laying on of hands, too, like Gunther? And seeing in the dark?
I’m hungry! the bird cried again.
It was somewhere ahead, in the darkness.
“Then get yourself some food, you stupid animal!” Marty yelled into the night, suddenly feeling foolish.
Do you have food?
Marty stared into the darkness and shook his head.
Kareem looked up at him and tilted his head to the side. “Are you talking to that bird?”
“Maybe,” Marty said.
Kareem handed Marty a strip of dried meat. “Maybe you can feed the bird.”
Feeling utterly foolish, Marty took the long strip of meat, ripped it in half, and then held one half up above his head. “Here, take some meat.”
He heard a single flap of wings. Flashing talons snatched the meat from his outstretched hand and vanished.
Marty shivered.
“That’s impressive, by God, Dr. Cohen.” Kareem smiled. “You can talk to the birds like Lowanna talks to her camel.”
“Any sign of her?”
Kareem shook his head.
“Hey, bird! Are you still hungry?” Marty yelled.
He felt a little less stupid this time.
The hawk replied, Do you have more food?
Marty pointed east. “I’ll give you more food if you can find my friend who is in that direction. A human woman, traveling with a camel.”
Somewhere not too far away, he heard wings flapping and then nothing.
“What do you expect the bird to do?” Kareem asked.
Marty shrugged and stared into the darkness for a full ten seconds before responding. “I don’t know. I’m just frustrated that it’s late and—”
He heard an angry squawk. Where is the food?
Marty held the strip of meat up. The bird snatched it out of his hand and flapped away. He called out to the hawk. “What did you see?”
Two-Legs says she can see the campfire. Returning soon.
Marty looked over his shoulder at the campfire about a quarter mile behind him.
Kareem hopped up onto his feet and pointed. “I see her, God be praised! She and the camel are racing directly for us.”
Marty stared into the darkness and saw nothing.
About three minutes later, Lowanna burst from the darkness on the lathered and exhausted dromedary.
Jumping off the animal, Lowanna almost crashed into Marty. He scooped her up and gave her a bearhug. “What the hell took you—”
“Marty, we’ve got an army heading this way!”
Marty’s blood ran cold. “An army? How many people? How far out?”
I’m tired! the camel bellowed. I’m hungry.
Lowanna kissed the camel’s neck and began rubbing it. “I promise you’ll get some rest.” As they began walking back to camp, she turned to Marty and said, “I couldn’t tell how many. I encountered a hawk that clued me in and then I saw a large cloud of dust being kicked up by an army on the move.”
“More people than we have?”
“A lot more.” Lowanna lightly smacked Marty on the upper arm. “And how in the world did you send a hawk to look for me? Can you—”
“I can.” Marty shook his head. “And I’m still wrapping my head around that.” His stomach cramped. There might be a battle. Could they avoid the army? If not, could they pick the field of battle? Above all, he needed to know more about the oncoming forces. “How far away are they?”
“The army was at least a few hours march east of where I saw them, and my friend raced the whole way back for about half a day to get here. I’d say if we stay right here, and they don’t change direction, they’ll probably be here in a day, maybe two.”
A day or two?
Marty paused midstride as the vision he first encountered replayed in his mind’s eye.
The sun rose and fell dozens of times as his view headed eastward, past villages, farmlands, the outskirts of the desert and off in the distance dust was being kicked up by a large amount of people traveling on foot, heading west.
He approached what looked like an army and rose up above it, getting a full view of what turned out to be hundreds of people, all equipped with weapons of ancient war—some spears, bows, an occasional sword and staff. At the center of the moving army was a covered wagon and his mind’s eye flew toward it.
Into the tent, past the attendants, and to the throne where a man sat.
He looked up as if he could see Marty. The glow of the man’s bronze skin shimmered and he smiled.
“Welcome, Seer. It is time.”
Marty shivered. Kareem and Lowanna looked at him with expressions of concern. He continued forward, stumbling toward the campfire, and a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The vision . . . could it really be playing out as predicted?
It was just before dawn and the camp buzzed with activity. François directed a squad of cooks as they prepared meals. The animals were being fed and people were preparing for a day’s march.
Marty stood on a low rise northeast of the camp and stared eastward with Kareem by his side.
The sun cracked the horizon. “What do you see?” Marty asked.
Kareem shaded his eyes with his hand. “I don’t see an army, praise be to God.” He glanced to his left. “We have a visitor.”
A tall spearman walked up the ridge, heading directly for them.
“Usaden,” Marty called. “Good morning.”
They clasped forearms. “Lowanna said that you wanted to talk with me.”
Marty chuckled. He had said no such thing to Lowanna, who was meddling. She wanted him to talk to Usaden, apparently.
But . . . maybe Usaden could be useful.
He pointed east. “We don’t yet see them, but we have visitors coming from that direction.”
“Visitors?”
“They might be an army,” Marty said cautiously. “I was wondering if you might tell me why there might be an army in the field.”
The strong man scratched his throat. “King Iken is at peace with his neighbors. I know of no king who is at war. I would be surprised if one of our neighbors marched with an army. There are robber bands, but those are never in numbers greater than a dozen or two.”
“And the Ametsu?”
“The Ametsu and their creatures are small in number,” Usaden said.
Marty frowned. “So, what would you expect if there was a force of people heading our way? What could their reason be? Is it something you’d expect to turn into a battle?”
Usaden furrowed his brows. “Perhaps a king has heard that a sovereign without lands passed through his domain. Perhaps a king fears that you will take his land, or that you are a robber. Perhaps he wishes to meet with you, or warn you off.”
Marty took a step back. “A sovereign without lands?” That might be stretching things a bit.
Usaden nodded solemnly.
Marty decided not to argue. “So would you expect them to attack us?”
“No. Certainly not at first meeting. They will want to know more about us. But, of course, if they foolishly choose combat, we are prepared.”
Marty nodded. “Thank you. I like to hear other people’s thoughts.”
“I see something!” Kareem pointed to the east.
Marty focused to the east and saw nothing but the horizon. “What do you see?”
“I think I see the first hints of dust in the air, by God. Either it’s a storm, or it’s an army on the move.”
“How long before you think they’ll get here?”
Kareem shrugged. “Impossible to tell. Are they on foot? Do they have supply wagons? No earlier than tonight, and maybe tomorrow.”
A hawk screamed high up in the air and dove straight to the ground, pulling up only at the last second and landing on a waist-high boulder directly in front of Marty.
Two-Legs calls you to return. To prepare.
Kareem handed Marty a piece of dried meat from his pocket.
Marty ripped off a piece of the meat and pocketed the rest as he turned to face the bird. He offered the jerky and the hawk plucked it from his outstretched hand, swallowing it whole. He held out his arm and the bird gingerly climbed up on the new perch. Its talons clutched his arm painfully, even through his sleeve. “Tell her I’m coming.”
He raised his arm. The bird stretched out its wings and took off.
“You talk to the birds?” Usaden stared.
“It’s worse than that,” Marty said. “They talk back.”
The sun stood just past its midday height. Marty stood on a tall rock just north of his new encampment; the host had marched only a few hours before he had called a halt. He watched as plumes of dust were kicked up by the approaching army, revealing what at first seemed like hundreds, but eventually gave way to a thousand or more soldiers on the march. It was just like the dream vision he’d been plagued with since coming to this time and place.
And if the rest of the vision were to be fulfilled?
The next part would be the real challenge. Not getting everyone killed and somehow managing to meet with the enthroned man in the main tent. Marty’s vision was very specific.
Marty took a deep breath and let it out as he walked back down to the encampment. It was time to greet whatever fate had brought for him.
The front line of the arriving force slowed and then stopped. The rest advanced, consolidating to settle finally into a solid body.
Marty felt calm. He met François one hundred yards ahead of their host, and two hundred yards from the new arrivals.
François spoke without really moving his lips. “And now what?”
“If they wanted to bulldoze us into the ground, they would have done it already.”
They waited ten minutes. There was discussion in the other army. Finally, two soldiers separated from the front line and walked toward them.
Marty spoke softly and forced his words out in English. “Okay, sweet-talker. You’re up.”
Both soldiers wore thick leather vests and kilts under plain white capes, and sandals on their feet.
François showed his empty hands. “We bring greetings and peace from afar.”
The Frenchman’s voice was warm and hypnotic. The hair on the back of Marty’s neck stood up.
One of the soldiers smiled, but the other’s lip curled in a snarl and he tightened his grip on his spear. “Who are you to expect that we’d parley with you?”
François motioned in a grandiose manner toward Marty. “King Marty is leader of this host. I am but a repeater of his words.”
The smiling warrior continued to grin and nod agreeably. The snarling one turned to Marty and sneered. “A king without even a single armed man with him? Very foolish.” He swung the tip of his spear in a chopping motion toward Marty’s head.
François gasped. Marty sidestepped the clumsy swing and kicked high. He slammed his foot down on the middle of the weapon, snapping it in half. The fighter staggered back two steps.
The soldier growled and lunged at Marty, a dagger aimed for his chest.
For Marty, it seemed as if his attacker was moving in slow motion. He gripped the man’s extended wrist and squeezed, and the dagger dropped from the soldier’s hand.
“Senbi!” the other warrior yelled with a surprised tone. “Have you gone crazy?”
Marty advanced on the soldier, who took another two steps back. “You would strike the king?” He grabbed his assailant by the front of his robe and almost lifted him off the ground. “You show poor hospitality.”
The man’s eyes widened as he stammered an apology. “I’m sorry. I was a fool and I cannot—”
“Shut up,” Marty snarled.
Senbi clamped his mouth shut. He dangled in Marty’s grip, only his toes touching the ground.
Marty motioned for François to pick up Senbi’s weapons as he set the soldier back down on the ground. He smoothed out Senbi’s robe, and handed him back the dagger and broken spear. “I wish no harm to you or yours. Do you understand?”
“Senbi understands,” the other soldier said. He gave his partner a glare.
Marty extended his hand to the soldier he’d just humiliated.
The man shuddered. He stared at Marty’s hand as if it were a scorpion’s tail.
“We can be friends,” Marty said.
Senbi accepted the offer and they clasped forearms. Then Marty did the same with the other soldier.
Marty turned to the less hostile warrior. “I would meet with your king.”
The man nodded. “I’ll report back and say that your people are peaceful and will cause us no trouble. That’s correct, right? We can be friends?”
Marty and François both nodded.
“We want to be friends,” François said.
The soldier who had attacked Marty looked distraught. “I’ll talk to the captain of the guard.”
The other soldier beckoned and they both walked back to their army.
François folded his arms over his chest. “That took a couple of unexpected turns.”
Marty nodded. “Well, I suppose the next step is trying to get in to see the king.”
“Would you rather I take over the role of poobah?” François asked. “Do all the talking?”
Marty chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve established myself as the king, now. I think I’d better continue in the role.”