“The Gods damn them!” he cried in frustration. “Where is she?”
They were all running out of steam now, slowing their pace, though he sensed none of them wanted to. But the weeks on the road had taken it out of all of them, not to mention the events of the last couple of days.
“We can’t give up,” Warsgra growled.
“We’re not,” Orergon replied. “But we need to slow or we might miss something.”
They regrouped and continued along the riverbank at a slower trot. Vehel missed the grand stag he used to ride. The majestic beast would have carried him without complaint. He hoped the beast had made it out of the Southern Pass alive.
“What are those?” Orergon pointed at the opposite bank.
The riverbank was tall and topped with trees and bushes, but several large holes had been dug into the muddy wall.
They came to a halt, staring at the riverbank. No creature Vehel had ever seen dug such things, but this place was nothing like his beautiful homeland of the Inverlands, with its mountainous peaks and glacial waterfalls. He longed for the peace of his home, but then remembered what might be waiting there for him if he did manage to get back. Would he ever see his homeland again, and would he be welcomed if he did?
As they stood, watching, one of the huge black and yellow striped bugs crawled out of one of the holes and took flight. The moment its wings began to beat, the crazily loud buzzing filled the air once more, and Vehel had to resist placing his hands over his ears.
“Was that the same one?” Warsgra asked, looking to each of them.
Orergon shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“How many burrows are there?” Vehel said, half thinking out loud.
They counted. Seven different holes in total.
“She could be in any one of those,” he mused.
Orergon chewed on his lower lip. “The bug might still be in there with her, too.”
Warsgra cupped his hands to his mouth. “Dela? Dela, can you hear me Shout out if you can.”
“She might be hurt or unconscious,” Orergon said. “She might not be able to shout.”
Warsgra scowled. “Then we’re going to have to go down each of those holes to try to find her.”
Vehel frowned at him. “You’re never going to fit down one of those. You’d barely get your shoulders in.”
Warsgra fixed him in his intense green gaze. “Then I guess you’ll be going down instead.”
Vehel’s stomach curdled, but Warsgra was right. Even Orergon would struggle to fit, and they couldn’t risk him getting stuck.
“Take my spear.” Orergon handed him the weapon. “If you meet one of those things in the hole, stab it.”
“I suppose I should be thanking you,” he muttered.
He unhooked his bow and quiver of arrows and placed them on the ground. They’d be no good in the confines of the burrow. Then he reached to the sides of his armor and took off the breastplate. Yes, it would have protected him, but the armor also made it harder for him to move. He had to focus on finding Dela and getting her out of there. The thought of her throwing her slender arms around his neck and hugging him in gratitude filled his mind. That was what he needed to focus on, not being stuck in a hole with the giant striped insects with stingers on their tails.
Vehel took hold of Orergon’s spear and started to wade across the water. “Which one shall I try first?” he called back.
“The one the bug just came out of. At least you know that one is empty of its inhabitant.”
Vehel gritted his teeth. He prayed Dela would be in the first one he tried, but he figured the chances were slim to none. No, they were seven to one. Assuming this was even where the insect had brought her.
He reached the other bank and slid the spear into the hole, pulling himself up and sliding inside. The walls were dank and coated in a wet, sticky mud that clung to his skin and clothes. He picked up the spear again and kept going.
“Dela,” he hissed, hoping that if she heard him she’d be able to give him some clue she was there. “Can you hear me?”
But there was nothing, and he kept going, forced to remain on all fours, and keeping his head down. What would his father and brothers think if they saw him now—an Elvish prince crawling through the mud for the sake of a human woman? They would mock him until the end of his days, but it wasn’t as though that would be any different than what he was used to.
The crown of his head collided with a wall, and he realized he’d come to the end. This burrow was empty. There was barely room to turn around, so he went backward instead, praying to the Gods that he wouldn’t meet the owner of this hole as it arrived home.
He dropped out of the end, into the water and the bright sunshine, which he was grateful for. His coloring didn’t normally appreciate the sun, but after being cooped up in that tunnel, he was thankful for it. He couldn’t imagine how Dela was feeling if she was inside one of these things. He’d only been in one for minutes, but she’d be approaching an hour now.
That thought pushed him toward the next one. He was aware of the other two still standing on the bank, expectantly watching him.
“She’s not there,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m trying the next one.”
He didn’t wait for their response, but instead hauled himself into the adjacent hole. He wanted to call out to Dela, but he didn’t know if this tunnel was vacant or not, and didn’t want to alert any giant bugs to his presence. His body filled the space, blocking off most of the light behind him. He gripped Orergon’s spear tight in his fist, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. While he was skilled with his bow and arrow, a spear was a different weapon altogether.
He lay flat, his belly in the mud, to be able to crawl down the tunnel by pulling himself forward with his forearms. The position allowed more light to flood in behind him, and let him see if he was approaching anything. Could he see something down there? His heart picked up pace? Was it another creature?
But no, he caught a glimpse of golden red hair in the small amount of light filtering from behind him.
“Dela!” he hissed. “Come this way. I’m getting you out.”
But she didn’t move. A stab of fear went through him. Was she already dead?
He moved quicker, pulling hand over arm to reach her, no longer caring how he was dragging himself through the mud. Damn whatever his family thought. In that moment, he didn’t care.
Vehel reached her. She was on all fours, her forehead pressed against the bottom of the tunnel, her hair splayed across the mud. She was breathing, he was sure of it. Unconscious, then? He reached out and covered her hand with his own.
“Dela, we must move. The creature might be back at any moment.”
But she didn’t budge. Only the rapid speed of her breathing gave him any idea that she had heard him.
“Come on. We have to leave.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. She slid toward him but made no attempt to try to move herself.
“What’s wrong with you? We have to go.”
He reached out and pushed her hair away from her face, trying to see her better to get an idea of what was happening. Her eyes were open, and they focused on him. He knew she saw him, but in the poor light he only saw terror and acute understanding of what was happening to her.
Realization dawned. “Did that thing do something to you? Can you not move?”
Her eyelids flickered up and down, but that was the only response he got. He remembered the huge stinger on the end of the creature’s tail. That must be what the sting was for. It paralyzed its food and then stored it here in the cool damp until it was ready to be devoured.
He’d have to move her by brute strength.
Vehel started to drag her, the movement awkward in the confined space. The mud rucked up at her shoulders and chest, making it even harder for him to pull her. He had to scramble backward as well, at the same time as dragging her, and they weren’t making quick progress.
A grow
ingly familiar sound filtered to his ears.
Buzzing.
His heart stopped in his chest, his mouth running dry with fear. The insect was returning to claim its meal.
Shouts came from outside, muffled to him, still inside the burrow, though he was able to make out what was being said.
Orergon’s voice. “Hurry, Vehel. It’s coming back.”
“Get out of there,” Warsgra’s deep tenor shouted.
Panic burst through him. He couldn’t go much faster. The only way he’d get out of the tunnel any quicker was by leaving Dela behind, and that wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let her think for even a second that he’d abandoned her when she was suffering like this. He didn’t know why he cared about some human woman, but she seemed special. His life hadn’t amounted to anything of great importance in his one hundred and fifty years, but this felt important.
He wasn’t going to let her down.
Chapter Twenty-one
Orergon
ORERGON STOOD AT WARSGRA’S side as the buzzing increased in volume.
By the Gods, why had he given his spear to Vehel? He had the feeling he was going to need it in the very imminent future.
“If it’s coming back, we can’t let it go in that tunnel,” Warsgra said. “It’ll trap Vehel.”
Orergon nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“So we’re going to have to fight it.”
They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement that they’d fight to the death if they had to.
He looked down to the ground, where Vehel had left his pile of armor and his bow and quiver of arrows. Orergon wasn’t bad with a bow, but it wasn’t his weapon of choice. Still, it didn’t seem like he had the luxury of being picky right now.
“There!” Warsgra exclaimed, pointing to the other side of the river. He hadn’t needed to point. There was no missing the huge black and yellow striped insect which appeared over the top of a small clump of bushes, and then dropped down to face the holes dug into the side of the muddy river bank.
They waited, every muscle tensed, watching. If the creature didn’t go near the tunnel Vehel was in, they could leave it be, but if it looked like it was going to block Vehel’s escape, they’d be forced to take the creature on.
“Why hasn’t Vehel come out yet?” Orergon asked Warsgra. “Do you think he found her?”
“Either that or he’s stuck. Those are the only reasons I can think of.”
“He’s going to need our help.”
Both he and Warsgra were too large for the insect to pick up and carry away, as it had done with Dela, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t cause them some serious harm with that huge stinger on the end of its tail.
The insect buzzed around the riverbank as though trying to figure out which was its hole. Orergon held his breath, hoping the thing would settle at a different hole than the one Vehel was inside. It buzzed around, like a honey bee at a border of flowers, but then stopped in front of the one they’d been hoping it wouldn’t.
Orergon didn’t hesitate. He lifted the bow and drew back, letting the arrow fly. It hit its mark, spearing into the insect’s back. The buzzing grew higher in its fury, and the creature spun around, the arrow still protruding from its rear end. They’d taken the thing’s attention from the hole, but redirected it to themselves.
Warsgra took a step forward, brandishing his axe in both hands.
“Hurry, Vehel!” Orergon shouted. “Get out, now!”
He wished he could go in and help, but his shoulders were too wide, and he was sure to get stuck. Besides, the insect was coming for them now, and he figured they were about to get busy.
The giant insect flew at them. Warsgra swung his axe, but the creature darted away. Not for long, though, as it bore down upon them again. Orergon pulled a second arrow and drew back the bow. He let the arrow fly, but missed the target this time, and it landed in the water.
Movement came at the hole Vehel had disappeared into. Feet appeared in the gap, quickly followed by legs.
The buzzing increased in volume, and Orergon looked up to find a second of the creatures appearing from over the bushes.
“I think it’s called in some backup!” he shouted to Warsgra.
Warsgra followed his line of sight. “It may have released some kind of chemical when it was hit with the arrow, a way of calling in its friends when it’s under attack.”
“You mean we could have a big problem.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
They could take on one of the creatures, maybe even two or three at a push, but many more and they’d be overwhelmed. They’d counted seven holes in total. True, not every tunnel might be currently occupied, but there might even be two or more insects to one hole. They had no idea how these creatures lived.
“Incoming!” Warsgra yelled and swung his axe at the second insect. The bug saw him coming and veered off at the last moment, but Warsgra managed to cleave off a part of one of its wings. It was able to stay airborne, but was no longer as agile, and it veered from side to side, unable to control its direction.
On the other side of the water, the remainder of Vehel’s body slithered from the hole, as though the bank had just given birth to a mud-covered Elvish prince. Orergon watched from the corner of his eye, praying he’d pulled Dela out with him, but then the first creature attacked again, and he was forced to concentrate on that. It came right at him, its body curved so the sting was beneath it, and aiming directly at Orergon. Orergon pulled back the arrow. It was getting too close now, and he wouldn’t have the space he needed to fire. Before he could let the arrow fly, Warsgra’s axe came down in a swoosh, right before him, chopping off the insect’s stinger. The thing let out a screech of rage—a sound he hadn’t thought it capable of—and dropped to the ground in front of them. Warsgra lifted his axe again and brought it down on the creature’s head, separating it from its body.
Orergon shuddered.
“We need to get out of here before more arrive,” Warsgra said.
They looked over to where Vehel was now pulling an equally mud-covered Dela from the riverbank. She didn’t look like she was moving, and Orergon had the horrifying thought that they’d been too late.
He plunged into the river to help Vehel. “Is she all right? What happened?”
“I think one of those things stung her. She’s conscious, but she doesn’t seem to be able to move or speak.”
Vehel cradled her in his arms. His silver white hair was now stained pink from the red clay in the mud, and his face and clothes were streaked with dirt. But there was fierce determination in his light blue eyes, and though Orergon reached out to take Dela from him, he only held her tighter to his chest.
Her hair had fallen over her face, and Orergon swept it away. Vehel was right. She was awake—he could see the understanding in her brown eyes—and somehow that was worse than if she’d been unconscious.
“It’s all right,” he told her as they plunged through the water to get to the opposite bank, away from the insects. “You’re going to be all right. We’ll make you well again.”
Warsgra had taken on the second bug, swiping at it with his axe when it bumbled by, unable to control which way it was going. The creature fell into the water and was swept away by a particularly rough part of the rapids.
“We need to get out of here before any more of its friends show up,” he said, pushing his long hair away from his face.
They all nodded in agreement.
Their clothes were soaked from the waist down, but they’d dry out quickly enough.
“We need to put some space between us and the riverbank,” Orergon said. “Use the trees as shelter.”
“We don’t want to lose sight of the river, though,” Warsgra pointed out. “It’s a life source to us, no matter the dangers.”
He was right. They needed the river for water, and it was an easy source of food. Plus, they were more likely to stay on the right path if they followed the direction of the water.
&nb
sp; “Agreed.”
They moved away from the river, though kept it to their right. The trunks of the trees offered them shelter, while they still caught glimpses of the rushing water through them. Concerned more of the insects would detect members of their swarm had been killed and come after them, they kept up a brisk pace, not even stopping to rest.
After awhile, Vehel began to tire, and he handed Dela over to Warsgra. She looked tiny in the big Norc’s arms, and he held her easily, as though she was no weight at all. She still hadn’t shown any signs of the paralysis wearing off, and he started to worry that it might be permanent. What would they do then? They couldn’t just abandon her, but they couldn’t carry her for a thousand miles either. No, Orergon didn’t want to think on that. They’d figure out a way to make her well again. They had to.
He thought of something. “Can you use your magic, Vehel? Is there a spell or something that might take the poison away?”
Vehel shook his head. “I keep telling you, I’m untrained in magic. It’s banned, remember. How am I supposed to know how to do something like that?”
“Instinct?” he suggested. “You knew what to do in the Southern Pass.”
“I didn’t, not really. I went with a feeling, and look where that got us. What if I tried something and it was wrong? It might kill her.”
“Death might be more merciful than being trapped inside her own body,” Warsgra muttered.
“Don’t speak of such things,” Orergon snapped. “She can hear you, remember.”
“And maybe it would give her some comfort to know we wouldn’t let her suffer.”
Orergon glared at him. Was the Norc really suggesting such a thing? How could he? But Warsgra didn’t return the glare. He didn’t even notice that Orergon was shooting him daggers. No, he was gazing down into Dela’s face. The expression on the Norc’s face softened, the emotion strange on such a tough male.
“Come on, Dela. You can fight this. I know you can. You’re tough. You’re not going to let a bug get the better of you.”
Warsgra did care, Orergon realized. He might act like he was hard as stone, but there was a heart lying somewhere beneath that massive chest of his.
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 14
