ROLEPLAY

                                   
Eeri barely described the interior of the Marauder camp to me. Let's just say she wasn't very talkative. The important thing to remember is that the Marauders hide their Zinuakeen under construction inside. Impossible to know how it works, since Eeri has not been given access to it. However, the Marauders told her that there was a path leading to the Wide Puddle by the south. A slight detour. So, we went there.

After several days of walking through the southern cordillera, made of giant roots emerging from the ground and twisting like braids, we finally reached the Wide Puddle. It was a particularly trying vision. Imagine an expanse of water as far as the eye can see. Wherever you look, nothing but water up to the horizon. I tried to see the end of the range to the east, in vain. This one comes to die on the horizon, suggesting that it does not end before the mouth of the Munshia river and the hypothetical Reef of Baldos. Passed the amazement, we approached the water and we even bathed there. Not for long though, this soup being relatively cold in winter. There were some fish that I did not especially recognize. But well, I don't know nothing about fish. No predator on the horizon apparently. Maybe some come to drink in the Wide Puddle but not this place in any case. There are no paw prints on the shore. Oh yes, an interesting phenomenon to note: the presence of waves! Bigger than the ones you can sometimes observe in Trykoth. Even if I don't see what the root cause of this could be, I suspect that the size of the Wide Puddle has something to do with it, . Anyway, we had a lot of fun with Eeri jumping among the waves, some of them reaching us at the level of the head.

For the following of our journey, although according to the Ranger map, no access is listed there, we could perhaps avoid the passage through Sentinel by following the Wide Puddle and then climbing the plateau south of the Citadel. I'm curious to know if there are any homins living there. But given the help the Marauders have given us so far, we would be depriving ourselves of essential information for the rest of our journey in the ancestral desert. So, after some discussion, we decided to cross the cordillera again and follow the small trail described to Eeri by the Marauders, which leads to Sentinel through the northern part of the mountain range. This path is not marked except for the area called the "Scattered Desert" where beacons have been placed to indicate the safe places to walk. The area is indeed filled with crevasses and moving sawdust that can swallow a homin in a few minutes without him being able to do anything to escape. However, we will have to avoid crossing the varinx packs haunting these aeras. According to Eeri, the Marauders spend usually a good month to reach Sentinel. So we'll depart tomorrow morning, leaving the Wide Puddle and its fascinating waves behind us. As for whether they will let us pass, we'll see how we can be useful once we get there.

Sentinel is within our reach. We see the lights of a camp a day's walk away. It is a relief and just as terrifying. The situation is tense between Azazor and me. I have a premonition that something is going turn out badly, for one or the other of us.

If I disappear and by chance someone comes to read this journal, it is not the image I want to leave of me and our trip. But I have to admit, I screwed up, big time. Azazor now only talks to me to give me orders, and we've lost trust in each other. He tried to kill me a few days ago. Or to scare me. It worked. He treats me like I'm an orskos. Me!

It's my fault. ney. But I didn't lie, dey! I hid things. Is it a lie not to say anything? He didn't ask me any questions. When he asked me if I was a Trytonist, I said yes. If you ask me, I answer. I don't lie. Yes, let it be known. Give this to the Kuilde and let them come to me, if they dare.
But toub, Azazor, you are as stubborn as I am... Yes, I should have said everything, revealed everything from the beginning. But could you have heard what I had to say? Even before we left, you wanted to do your own thing, you criticized my positions, my friendships. You didn't even bother to listen or to be interested in what I could have given you. And now you have to tell yourself that you bet on the wrong mektoub. But if I disappear and you read this, know that my respect for you is still alive. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you, and you wouldn't have gotten this far without me.
If you had asked the question, "Eeri, do you have a Marauder crystal?" I would have answered yes... Yes, I got a Marauder crystal from Mazé'yum. Without compromising my real name. No, I don't want to join them, especially not those from the New Lands. Even if some of them here have my respect.
Another question you could have asked me, and never did: "Am I the father of Uzykos?" I think the answer is clear enough, and that deep down you already know it. But it's not enough to want the truth, you must be able to accept it. One day you will know it, and you will explode, as you do every time you are interested in something other than your own plans
And dey, I'm not immortal. You forgot, for a crystal to work, you have to be able to activate it. And after ten days of walking, we're just too far away for it to work. If I fall, I die. Just like you. If the distance had nothing to do with it, I could have simply returned to Fairhaven, as if nothing had happened. But this is another truth you don't want to hear. By the time you read this, it will be too late to realize it.

Besides, if the little you told me about what happened at the Wide Puddle is true, so far this crystal has only served to keep me from being totally gobbled up by a big fish. Eeri, dead, guzzled and digested by a prakker. I hope my true ending will be a bit more glorious, I still have that Fyros trait at least.

Tomorrow we'll go to the Marauders, to Sentinel. Hopefully they already know we're coming. I have a feeling that these homins are much more ingenious than we might think, and that they have a quicker means of communication than sending a simple messenger. I will let Azazor speak. Anyway, if I open my mouth he'll find something to pick at. And I promised, a few months ago, when we arrived at the Cloudy Cliff Outpost, to let him what he wants. If it goes wrong, I'll try to make it right by taking out my crystal. However, I have the impression that the dice are cast already and that Azazor knows exactly what he is going to do. And that he won't hesitate to abandon me, as soon as he doesn't need me anymore, or as soon as he feels that will save his ass.

We set up our camp high up on a root. It reduces the access in case of a predator attack. There are few of them, but they are much bigger and more tenacious. There is also less game here than in our country, maybe it's related. From here, we have a view of the desert to the north. To the east, we could already make out, in the daytime, the presence of this mountain range that separates us from the desert of the Old Lands. We are so close to our goal and yet nothing has ever been so uncertain. I never expected that we would want to kill each other. Maybe that's the strength of the homins here. The fact that we don't go crazy knowing that whatever one does, it might be the last time. Although, now that they're expanding their Zinuakeen network here too, it must totally change their their view of things.. This fear must probably only be valid for us, who have just never been used to this feeling. It makes us lose our minds.

I'll keep it short. As soon as we arrived at Sentinel, the Marauders confiscated all our belongings. I am writing this text with a piece of coal on the single leather I managed to hide before arriving here.

We arrived in sight of a kind of giant tower built in a tree also gigantic. It is not like the tower of Fort Beacon in the sense that it is not built in a root but in a real tree of phenomenal dimensions. It's more than a tower in fact, almost a circular city with several floors, with a few dead branches at the top reminding us that we are dealing with, basically, a tree. I have never seen so thick and high a tree. Yet, it seems to be only a part of the original tree. The tree is now probably a dead one because there is no foliage and it looks like it was burned by some ancient fire. Scarce bare branches only remain in addition to the trunk.
So it is inside this huge tree that Sentinel is built. There is a main entrance covered by a canopy and various secondary stairs outside. Halfway up, we can see balconies where homins are stationed, apparently armed with firearms. Above, there are some more floors in what reminded me of the Imperial Palace, a kind of pseudo-dome, there where the top of the tree must have been. 

As we came within sight of the tree, Marauders came up from behind us and made us lower our weapons. They asked us what clan we were from. I told them the truth. That I was a patriot of the Empire in the New Lands, that I had come as a researcher to study the Road of Oflovak and the land of our ancestors, that I owed this Marauder armor to O'Tello, the head of the Cloudy Cliff Diplomatic Outpost, and that we had just returned from a delivery mission to build a Zinuakeen, mission to make us up for the misappropriation of some jerky. In short, the truth, raw and unvarnished. I didn't say anything about Eeri. She didn't even say anything, leaving me to speak all along.

They then separated us and I was questioned by two homins. I repeated what I had said. When they asked me who Eeri was, I told them that she was a Tryker citizen who was accompanying me. They then explicitly asked me if she was a Marauder. I told them I didn't think so. They told me about the Marauder crystal found in her belongings. I explained that I didn't know about this crystal until a month ago and that Eeri had lied to me. She had sworn that the crystal did not mean that she was a Maraud'. I told them that she had probably stolen it from someone or that one of her contacts had given it to her. At their insistence, I gave them the name Mayé'zum or Mazé'yum. I don't remember exactly. A shady guy from the New Lands an I don't know which Maraud' clan. They then took me to a kind of cell where I waited for several hours.

A homin came for me and I was questioned again. This time there was a Fyros of obviously higher rank. I was asked about my intentions. I had to repeat what I was doing here, that I wanted to go to the other side of the ridge. Thinking that I was dealing with the real leader of the Sentinel this time, I added that my goal was also to establish a first contact with the Marauders so that when I returned to the New Lands, we could exchange knowledge. To make my request credible, I had to tell them that I was an akenakos and a student at the Imperial Academy. I also offered them my services as a butcher in order to pay for my stay here, that if they could contact the Diplomatic Outpost, they would learn that I excelled in this art and that they would not regret it. The Fyros noted all this and had me escorted back to the cell where I am waiting without food for a while now. So I take the opportunity to write this. And I don't know where Eeri is. Let her deal with her lies. 

Day after my arrival D+1

I finally was allowed to get my stuff back. They went through all my writings and those of Eeri. According to the Fyros, whose name I still don't have, I seem to them quite honest about my intentions. What is not the case of the homina who accompanies me. He wouldn't tell me more and I don't care. They can hang her, it's not my concern anymore.
So the Marauders agree to host me for a week in exchange for a job in the kitchen. I have had my Marauder armor confiscated and my weapons will be returned to me when I leave. So I put back on my Fyros armor. It's not so bad after all, even if I would have liked to bring back a Maraud' armor in the New Lands. The Fyros is waiting for the orders of his superiors to know if he should make me turn back or if they agree to let me continue my way to the Old Lands. 

D+2
I was able to talk to a Maraud' who works in the kitchen with me. He explained to me that The Citadel is not really a city such as one imagines it. It is in fact more of a fractured part of the great root ridge that surrounds the desert of the Old Lands and that forms a kind of maze. There are crevices everywhere that the Marauders travel on a regular basis. You should rather imagine an agglomeration of small temporary camps built and dismantled in response to the kitins moves. The Old Lands are literally teeming with kitins. The strategy for containing them is to let part of them enter the maze and get lost in it, for then kill them or get them out again. Forget about the idea of a big wall that the kitins would crash into. The constant battle of the Marauders against the kitins is mostly hide-and-seek. The Maraud' who told me this can't tell me much more than that, alas. The cult of secrecy is quite prevalent here, and people are suspicious of me. I understand them. We are also very suspicious of them in our land. It's only as a fair return. 

D+5
The Marauders agreed to accompany me to a first Citadel encampment in three days. From there, I will receive further instructions on how to move around The Citadel until I get out. They would not tell me more at this time. I was asked with a smile if I like climbing. I have a feeling I'm not going to like it...

D+6
One of the Marauds who had taken me into the cell on the first day came up to me today and threw a batch of papers on my bunk. He said that I should be interested, that these were Eeri's writings and that I could keep them because they had already made a copy. When I asked him about her fate, he couldn't answer me. But it seems that she won't be coming out any time soon. Too bad for her. All she had to do was listen to me and play it fair.
I started to read, and I have to admit, at least in writing, that I feel a little guilty for having been so tyrannical. The toub is secretive and has a major issue with trust, but her intentions were good. I should finish reading tonight.

D+8 

I joined a small convoy towards The Citadel and we left early this morning. The further we go, the more gigantic the ridge seems. Next to it, the cliffs of Scorched Corridor seem ridiculous. Will I really have to climb all this...? And... I saw Eeri. From a distance. Chained to a toub and well guarded. She is part of our convoy, in the back. Of course, I am forbidden to approach her. According to a Maraud', she is going to meet an important person of The Citadel and I don't have to know where. "Akilia?" I asked. He growled in answer. So not Akilia. And clearly, this one is not in odor of sanctity here either. We are told on and on in the New Lands of Akilia being the leader of the Marauders, but after what O'Tello said, and that growl, I begin to believe that here exist power struggles too, between the pro-Akilia and the others...


D+9
That's it, we arrived. During the last hours of walking, I did not dare to look at the top of the ridge, for fear of being nauseous. There, the winds were particularly violent, but we finally managed to sneak in a small notch to finally reach a first rough camp inside the cliff. The Marauders seemed to be used to this trip. According to one of them, most of the camps are troglodyte and temporary. There are a few permanent camps here and there that are extremely well hidden and defended, but almost all of them are shifting, depending on the movement of kitins and the tactics adopted to neutralize them. Again, these cliffs remind me of those of Scorched Corridor. A real maze of caves, canyons and crevasses. But so much bigger... We leave in one hour. The time to write this. 

As a result I know how I'm going to get to the Old Lands. By the top. I was told about climbing, this will be the case. From a place in the Citadel, I will be able to use a set of ropes, ladders and other footbridges to climb up the ridge. Once at the top, I was advised, if I want to join Coriolis, to follow more or less the edge of the cliff, depending on the presence of kitins. They are less numerous at the top, but still present. So, it will probably be necessary to make some detours. But I will have not to go down under any circumstances. They told me that anyway, once I'm up there, I'll understand why. 

I've been climbing for hours. Now that I can finally settle down, I have to go back to that evening spent with the Marauders, the last one before my climb. It was a shock, one can say so. The group I had accompanied until then had to settle in one of these semi-permanent camps I had been told about. I was invited to share a meal and to sleep there before my departure the next day.

We had gathered in a kind of particularly gigantic cave to which one reached after having followed many tunnels dug in the cliff. The entry in the cave was through a narrow tunnel after the climbing of a tumulus blocking the entry. It was explained to me that the entrance was once much larger, but a landslide had been deliberately set off to block the entrance during an epic battle against the kitins. It was while telling me about this battle that I heard for the second time, after Barmie Dingle, about the Flamings. Contrary to what I had believed, not all Flamings were kitins of the kipesta species. In fact, this name "Flamings" is given to the whole new generation of red kitins that appeared in the desert, and it is the term "red dragons" that specifically designates the kipestas among Flamings, for their fire is particularly destructive and their abdomen bristled with spines. During the said battle, many Marauders had perished trying to defend the entrance to the cave where many of them had taken refuge. Since then, the cave has become a symbol for many. The Flamings had continued to multiply, making access to the desert almost inaccessible. The Marauders said that the Karavan was hunting them down and targeting them first.

Inside the cave was a huge camp, visibly less rustic than the previous ones. There was a sort of infirmary in a tent, a kitchen area stocked with enough food to feed an entire regiment, a stable full of mektoubs, hundreds of beds dug into the walls and even some sort of tubs filled with water for washing. Here and there, a few devices and tools reminded me that the Marauders had mastered a rather advanced technology, linked in some way to the Powers.

High on the walls, one could see several holes connected by walkways. There must have been other rooms behind the walls and on several floors. It was a real miniature city, lit by the glowing of gigantic braziers. One of the Marauds of the company, probably a little too talkative, explained to me that there was also an armory, laboratories and a library somewhere, hidden in this maze of tunnels connecting them to the cave, which served as the main reception hall.

But what surprised me the most were the children. Until then I had imagined The Citadel as a huge battlefield, and yet here I found children, old people, a whole bunch of homins that I had not expected to find here.

Finally, I understood that this cave was used as a resting place, but also as a research area and a place to fall back in case of massive attacks, as it happened sometimes. These few spaces were in fact the only stable areas of The Citadel. The nerve centers of this movable city, reconfigured with defeats and victories. However, there was no guarantee that the kitins would not succeed in taking these places, as had already occurred a few times. Everything was designed to be easily moved, as evidenced by the shape of the furniture and the many mektoubs equipped as if they were on departure.

The evening was enriching, especially on a cultural level. As I watched them laughing with their loved ones, talking about their last day, helping each other with daily duties, playing music and dancing, I realized that these Marauders did not fit our idea of them. Their ability to create moments of life for themselves, while a few dozen kilometers to the east, a gigantic swarm of kitins threatened to swoop on the Oflovak Road, generated in me confused emotions. Respect, but also a strange sense of pride. As I watched these Marauders, I remembered that the first of them were Fyros. Fyros who decided not to flee from the kitins, but to fight to keep their homes, and who were still fighting today. I even felt some anger at the Empire of the time of Cerakos II, which had abandoned its people to flee from the kitins.

To my surprise, that evening, many of them shared moments with me. Their friendliness surprised me. Of course, they considered me as a stranger, and kindly told me not to insist, when I asked them about their links with the Powers and if I could consult the books in the library... For the rest, they seemed happy to share this evening with someone coming from so far away, and asked me a number of questions. Especially since this time the stranger was not a Ranger! I was a stranger among strangers. I also believe that they respected me very much for undertaking such a dangerous journey to carry out my research. As in Fyros society, Courage, Honor and Truth were strong concepts in Marauder society.

Yet, several hundred kilometers to the west, Akilia was waging a dirty war against the nations of the New Lands, not hesitating to recruit criminals and commit terrorist acts. Why such a difference? I dared to ask the question to one of my hosts who expressly ordered me, in a low voice, to change the subject. A Fyros who was passing by our group at that moment heard my question and launched into a violent monologue defending Akilia's policy. Then, raising his head towards a footbridge above him, he turned around and walked away while mumbling. I raised my head and saw that some guards had stopped up there to watch us. So, from what I could see, at The Citadel pro- and anti-Akilia people stand alongside. Though, probably, many don't take sides. Like my hosts who, visibly uncomfortable, hastened to change subject.

A Tryker told me later, under the tone of confidence, that if the pro Akilia were present in minority in The Citadel, and frawned upon by many—because suspected of fomenting conspiracies—they were nevertheless admitted in these places. First, because many of them were members of the oldest clans, from the Melkiar era, and were among the most powerful and feared Marauders. Second, because conflicts between the various clans had always been commonplace, and it was implicitly understood that no dissension should ever endanger Marauder society. Thirdly, because The Citadel was the home of all Marauders, and to be permanently banished from it was the heaviest punishment of all... The Tryker added, however, that what was most important, and what everyone agreed on, was the fight for survival and against the kitins. To imagine that the Marauder society owes its cohesion, and thus its existence, to the presence of a monstrous swarm at the gates of The Citadel, seemed sadly ironic...

Finally, I ended my evening by telling some children the History of the Cult of the Great Dragon. It was a real delight to see their eyes both amazed and terrified at the adventures of Liriope. I never thought I would find children here, so close to danger. I thought they would all be in Sentinel, but that was a mistake. The Citadel was the heart of the Marauder people, the place where life was beating. And when I saw these Marauders children, I thought of my own...

Azazor m’a rendu mon journal. Et m’a sauvée.
Ce n’est pas la première fois que j’écris ça, mais j’avais de nouveau perdu espoir de réécrire ici. Et une fois de plus, on s’en est sortis. Il faut croire que quelque chose veille sur ma vieille peau. Une puissance? Ou la chance, simplement. Comme à la roue de ce bon vieux gubani toujours plus fortuné.

Les maraudeurs lui ont donc rendu mes écrits. C’est dire qu’ils lui faisaient confiance. Pas comme à moi. Et par ma faute, on se retrouve comme des fugitifs, en haut de cette montagne.

Il a sans doute lu.

Mais je vais réécrire depuis le début, depuis notre arrivée à Sentinelle.
Nous avons été arrêtés par les maraudeurs, nombreux et lourdement armés. Séparés, privés de nos affaires. Il me semble qu’ils aient très vite mieux traité Azazor que moi… Et ils m’ont posé des questions idiotes. De quel clan je fais partie. Là, j'ai compris que mon cristal posait problème. Ce que je fais là. J’ai cru que je pouvais jouer à la plus fine avec eux. Mais pas moyen d’entendre parler du clan des Arpenteurs d’horizons. Résultat, ils m’ont transférée à Citadelle, attachée, avec le convoi qui emmenait Azazor. Détaché et libre, lui. Arrivée là-bas, ils m’ont pendue par les pieds dans un placard à balais. Si j’avais eu une hache à portée de main, je t’aurais fait une bouillie de maraudeurs… La tête en bas, je ne sais combien de temps. Quelques heures, quelques jours? Ils m'ont finalement emmenée pour être interrogée par plusieurs maraudeurs. Sans doute haut-placés, peut-être même celle qui administre la Citadelle, la régente, comme ils l’appellent. Mais je me demandais pourquoi mon cas les intéressaient plus que ça. Il semble que les maraudeurs s’espionnent entre eux, et que les clans se tirent dans les jambes pour récupérer un peu de pouvoir, faire valoir leurs opinions. Ils m’ont peut-être prise pour l’une de ces espionnes. Là, avec eux, j’ai joué franc-jeu, et dit toute la vérité. Je ne saurai jamais si ça à marché, s’ils m’auraient libérée ou tuée. D’après ce que j’ai compris plus tard, j’aurai sans doute été oubliée dans une cellule jusqu’à ce que je meure de faim, les maraudeurs ayant d’autres kitins à fouetter.

Et il s'est réellement passé ce à quoi je ne m'attendais pas, mais alors pas du tout...
Je pensais peut-être qu'Azazor, ayant arrangé les choses pour moi, allait arriver avec des gardes pour me faire libérer avant de reprendre la route. Enchaînée comme j'étais, je ne voyais pas d'autre échappatoire possible. Mais c’est Aride qui est arrivé. Un homin casqué, seul. Je compris après qu’il n’avait pas agit seul, mais je ne fus en contact avec nul autre. Il a assommé un garde, ouvert la porte, m’a délivrée. J’aurais pu tomber amoureuse, s’il ne s’agissait pas d’un matis, et plus tout jeune. Mais je n’étais pas au bout de mes surprises. Il m’a dit connaitre mon nom, mon goût pour la liqueur de shooki - il m'en a même offert une. Je n’ai même pas eu la présence d’esprit de m’intéresser à sa provenance, mais j'ai cru comprendre que c'était plutôt quelque chose de rare à Citadelle. Il est tout à fait pensable que ce savoir-faire soit revenu des Nouvelles Terres, et qu'ils en produisent un peu, quelque part dans un camp du désert morcelé.

Aride, Arma Rapide, Maraudeur et Chercheur d’Elias, exilé dans les Anciennes Terres depuis une vingtaine d’années de Jena. Il m’a montré son visage, chose que les Trytonistes ne font normalement pas, chez nous. Il ne m’a pas donné son vrai nom, et je ne l’aurais de toute façon pas demandé. Il m’a donc connue alors que j’étais une jeune légionnaire qui se posait des questions et venait de tourner le dos aux kamis. Il a surtout connu Lopyrèch… Icus, mon mentor, mon ami. Celui qui a fait de moi une chercheuse de vérité, celui qui m’a fait ouvrir les yeux sur tant de mystères, sur tout ce que les puissances nous cachent… Le seul autre fyros, avec Azazor, auquel je me suis abandonnée... Une fois, l'alcool aidant. Encore une chose que je n'ai dite à quasiment personne, tiens... Et ramèch, voilà le résultat. Une fyros qui abandonne ses mioches et qui ment comme elle respire. Lopy... Si tu étais encore de ce monde, tu me mettrais une paire de baffes bien pires que celles qu’Azazor a envie de me coller tous les jours. Et tu aurais bien raison. Ou tu me dirais simplement de cacher la vérité plus intelligemment... Je me rends compte que si c’était utile sur les Nouvelles Terres, là ou les Puissances nous traquent, là ou nous faisons tant de cas des jeux de pouvoirs insipides entre les nations, c’est quelque chose de totalement stupide et inutile ici, en l’absence des Puissances et des pouvoirs politiques. Mais lorsque je réfléchis à ce que je peux répondre à une question, ne sort de ma bouche que l’option la plus improbable et mensongère… Je dois changer ça.

Je dois donc ma liberté à ce matis. Il a même pris le temps de récupérer mes affaires, et de me fournir une autre armure de maraudeur, bleue. Celle que j’avais en arrivant aurait trop attiré l’attention. Il m’a donnée une pique et un bouclier, en plus de ma hachette et de mes amplificateurs qu'il avait pu récupérer. Une pique ! La seule arme efficace contre certains kitins. J'avais cassé la dernière dans je ne sais plus quel combat. Des vivres, de quoi tenir quelques jours. Il n’a rien demandé en échange, je n’aurais pas pu lui offrir grand chose. Si ce n’est de faire vivre la croyance d’une hominité libérée. Nous sommes partis au petit matin de la cache ou il m’avait amenée et avons repris ce jeu de cache-cache avec les kitins et les patrouilles de maraudeurs. Je ne m’attendais pas à ça de Citadelle. Ce n’est pas une ville, c’est un champ de bataille, ou se déroule une guerre permanente avec les kitins. Les Maraudeurs ici sont presque les Rangers de chez nous, le coté j’aime tout le monde en moins. Ici, c'est marche ou crève, c’est la porte qui retient l’enfer du prochain essaim derrière les montagnes. Bon, je ne dois pas exagérer non plus. Il m'a aussi dit que Citadelle regorge de lieux de vie : des auberges, des écoles, des lieux d'entrainement, des armureries... Ils habitent ici, mais tout a été conçu, au fil du temps, pour être déplacé facilement et rester à l'abris des Kitins. Ils ne m'ont pas proposé de visiter, je lui ai répondu, en riant.

Avant de partir, il me raconta aussi son voyage pour arriver ici. À peu près le même que nous avons fait, mais avec un groupe plus large aux origines assez disparates. Ce qui ne l'empêcha pas de voir plusieurs de ses compagnons tomber, notamment pendant la traversée de la Mer de Bois. Lorsqu'il arriva, l'ancien Sujet du Royaume qu'il était du servir plusieurs années à l'Avant-Poste de la Falaise Nuageuse, avant de pouvoir être considéré comme digne de confiance et d'être autorisé à rejoindre leurs rangs. Après ça, finalement, il a pu rejoindre la Citadelle. Certains de ses compagnons sont toujours ici, quelques-uns, surtout les plus agés à l'époque, étaient restés sur l'île d'Oflovak.

J’ai aussi appris une chose très intéressante. J'avais compris que les maraudeurs utilisent des objets de la Karavan, pillés sur les croiseurs abandonnés par exemple, pour faire fonctionner leur propre technologie. Comment, ça reste à découvrir, mais le contact que j'ai eu avec eux ne va pas m'aider à en savoir plus. En revanche, ce que je ne savais pas, est que la Karavan est encore présente dans la zone, d’une certaine façon. Peu au sol, mais surtout depuis le ciel. Aride m’a expliqué que parfois les vaisseaux de la Karavan attaquent les Kitins. Ils appellent ça une "frappe" ici. De puissants sorts, envoyés depuis leurs vaisseaux situés vraisemblablement au dessus de la canopée. Sans doute quand les kitins sont trop concentrés à un endroit, parfois juste devant les portes de Citadelle. Ou, le plus souvent, dirigé contre certains spécimens en particulier, ces fameux flamboyants dont nous avions entendu parler.

Aucun kami dans la zone, en revanche, m’a dit Aride. En tout cas, pas qu’il sache. Il se raconte que du temps de Melkiar, certains chefs de clans avaient eu des contacts avec eux, mais c'est devenu presque une légende, de nos jours. Non pas que cela me surprenne, ça vient même confirmer pas mal de vieilles théories. Mais que la Karavan essaie encore et toujours de contenir les kitins, avec les maraudeurs, est une information étonnante. Parfois, m'a t-il dit, des agents Karavan sont aperçus à Citadelle, lors de certaines réunions importantes le plus souvent réservées chefs de clans. Nul ne sait, à part sans doute ces derniers, si ces ambassadeurs demeurent en permanence à Citadelle. Il me laissa aussi entendre, sans vouloir en dire plus, que la technologie des Maraudeurs était en partie liée à celle de la Karavan.

Alors, j'ai demandé... S’il n’étaient pas là, les maraudeurs arriveraient-ils à retenir les Kitins? Travaillent-ils vraiment ensemble? Il me semble que sa vision de la Karavan n'était plus celle que nous, Chercheurs d'Elias pouvions avoir dans les Nouvelles Terres. Mais Aride n’a pas vraiment pu m’en dire plus, nous étions déjà en retard pour assister au départ d'Azazor.

Puis quelque chose a sans doute mal tourné. Son plan était de suivre le convoi d’Azazor, et lui laisser quelques heures d’avance. Comme il l’avait prévu, les gardes qui l’avaient accompagné jusqu’à ce chemin escarpé étaient restés là un moment après le départ du fyros, et lorsque celui-ci ne fut plus en vue, ils se dispersèrent dans les anfractuosités du canyon. Après quelques secondes, du point d’observation où Aride et moi étions positionnés, il nous fut impossible détecter la présence d’un seul homin. Le matis semblait tendu. Nous avons encore patienté, puis il m’a indiqué le chemin à prendre, me disant qu’il allait me suivre à distance. En faisant attention à ne pas me faire voir. "Si quelque chose tourne mal pour moi, cache-toi, et laisse moi gérer. Nous ne nous en sortirons que si l'on ne me voit pas avec toi. Si tu es repérée... cours. Je verrai ce que je peux faire". Je lui ai demandé de partir dès maintenant, de se téléporter s’il pouvait. Il avait assez pris de risques. Il m’a fait oui de la tête sans vraiment répondre ce qu’il allait faire. J’espère qu’il n’a pas eu de problèmes. Puis après l'avoir remercié une dernière fois, je suis partie dans la direction qu’il m’avait indiquée.

Après quelques minutes, alors que j'allais traverser une zone relativement découverte, un brouhaha a commencé à se faire sentir, semblable aux nuées de kitins que j’avais pu voir quelques jours plus tôt. Je me suis cachée comme j’ai pu dans une anfractuosité de sciure, et j'ai attendu un bon moment, essayant de ne pas paniquer, que le brouhaha passe. Ça a duré, et je me suis perdue dans mes penséses... Et si ma libération compromettait la sécurité des Trytonistes de Citadelle? Et si, par ma faute, l'attention se portait sur eux, au point qu'ils soient incriminés? Lorsque je suis sortie de mes pensées, le bruit avait cessé.

En ressortant de ma cachette, malgré mes précautions, je suis tombée nez à nez avec un maraudeur, seul, et armé d'une lance. Mon clan, ce que je fais ici ? Je n’ai pas menti, et lui ai dit que je me cachais des Kitins, en ramassant ma pique pour feindre de la remettre sur mon dos. D'un mouvement vif, je la lui ai alors plantée en dessous du casque, droit dans le cou. Un coup sec, fatal, pour un homin qui ne s’y attend pas. "Avec les amitiés d’Akilia" j’ai dit en frappant, sans vraiment réfléchir. Son corps s’est dématérialisé. Toub de toub… Sur le moment, je n'avais rien trouvé de mieux pour détourner leur attention. S’ils pensent que je suis une espionne du clan des cendres, ils en oublieront peut-être les Trytonistes.

Il m'a fallu plusieurs heures d'escalade avant que je ne puisse voir Azazor, de loin. Le bougre s'en sort pas mal, je dois dire. Il est bien plus en forme qu'au début de notre voyage. Je suis restée à distance, pour qu’il ne me voit pas. Pas encore. Je devais lui laisser un jour ou deux d’avance. Par chance, il semblait ne pas regarder en arrière. Lorsqu'il a établi un camp pour la nuit, j'ai essayé de dormir à même la sciure dans une crevasse de la falaise, réfléchissant à comment arriver devant lui. Que pouvais-je lui dire... Pour dédramatiser, maintenant que Citadelle était derrière nous, je pensais à... "Aza ! 'ren pyr, ça marche la grimpette?" "C'est vivifiant ici, tiens. On se fout des avoines maintenant ou on garde ça pour plus tard?".

Il faut croire que je réussis toujours mes arrivées. Le lendemain, il prit une pause après sa traversée hasardeuse d'un pont de corde. J'attendais de l'autre coté qu'il veuille bien re-démarrer, toujours pour lui laisser de l'avance. C'est alors que j’ai réalisé, par chance car j'essayais de me cacher de lui, que quelques maraudeurs escaladaient plus bas, après moi. Ils m'avaient vue, et espéraient m'atteindre sans bruit. Je n'avais aucune chance de me cacher ni des uns, ni de l'autre. Le combat n'était pas une bonne idée, je me suis donc élancée pour traverser le pont avec mon barda sur le dos. Azazor était surpris, j'ai cru qu'il allait m'envoyer par le gouffre. C'était eux, ou moi. Mais il a attendu que je traverse, avant de donner un grand coup de hache dans les cordes du pont pour le couper.

Il a sans doute lu.