“You have already rewarded me, my lord.”
His dark eyes widened slightly. “Already? How so?”
“You have called me friend. That is reward enough for me.”
He chuckled softly, nodded, and took me to the tent his men had pitched for him. As the sun went down we shared a meal of dried meat and fermented mare’s milk, then stood side by side as the funeral pyre was lit and the bodies of the slain Mongols properly sent on their way to heaven.
I held my face immobile, knowing that the abode of the gods was nothing more than a beautiful dead city in the far future, a city that the gods had abandoned in fear for their lives. There were no gods to protect or defend us, I knew. We had no one to rely on except ourselves.
“Now,” Subotai said to me as the last embers of the pyre glowed against the night’s darkness, “bring me the rest of my army.”
I bowed and walked off a way from the camp. Moving the entire army and all their families and camp followers would not be easy. Perhaps I could not do it without aid from Anya or the other Creators. But I would try.
I closed my eyes and willed myself back to the bleak city of wooden huts and mud hovels. Nothing happened.
I concentrated harder. Still no result.
Throwing my head back, I stared up at the stars. Sheol glimmered weakly, a poor dulled reflection of its former strength. And I realized that Set had blocked my way through the continuum, just as he blocked Anya when we had first come to this time and place.
He had trapped me here, with Subotai and barely a thousand warriors.
I heard his hissing laughter in my mind. I had led Subotai into a trap. Set intended to keep us here and slaughter us down to the last man.