by Robert Ryan
Abruptly free of indecision, Menendil also attacked. Even as the creature turned away from him to face the greater threat, he drove his sword into her.
It was not a killing blow. His thrust was not well directed, and it took her at the top of her hip and careered off the bone. Yet still she screamed, and her eyes flashed hatred at him like fiery daggers.
That was a mistake, for she took her eyes off Caludreth, and his blow was better. It was aimed at her neck, intended to sever her head from her body. But at the last moment her wings rose and the elbow joint came forward as she twisted. The blow hit her there, and then skidded to strike the top of her head.
The elù-drak swayed, made dizzy by the force of the blow. Menendil struck again, trying to do what Caludreth had attempted, and decapitate her, but she ducked and rolled, coming to her feet some distance away, and then with a beat of her wings lifted skyward.
She was safe from swords, but not from magic. A streak of fire burst forth again, and it took her in the head. Her hair caught fire, and with a scream and great beats of her wings she rose swiftly high above the square and disappeared behind some buildings.
Menendil did not look at Caludreth. His eyes flickered toward the soldiers. They remained some distance away, unsure if the creature would come back. But their leader turned to them and seemed about to give a signal to attack.
Caludreth raised both arms, the sword in one. But it was not a gesture designed for fighting. Truly, Menendil thought, the arts of the knights were wonderous.
Fog rose from the cobbles, and swirled toward the soldiers. They backed away, and even as they did so the whole square seemed to fill with mist deeper and thicker than Menendil had ever seen.
He looked at Caludreth in amazement, but he saw the knight was swaying. Swiftly he went to him and put an arm around his shoulder to steady him. Whatever marvelous skills he possessed, they did not come without cost.
Awkwardly, the once-knight sheathed his blade. “We have to hurry,” he said. “The fog won’t last long.”
They hastened away then, each supporting the other. But Caludreth seemed to gain strength at every step, and he needed no more help by the time they passed through the street that Menendil had hoped to use earlier.
The fog disappeared quickly too. It must still fill the square, but Caludreth had not conjured it over a wide area. Here, the night was clear, and the sky was open above.
They crossed another street quickly, then headed through an alley. Back and forth they zigzagged, making sure that there was no chance they could be run down. But soon they slowed. Two factors asserted themselves.
The first was that there was no sound of pursuit. They had evaded the soldiers. That should have brought relief, but the second became more urgent. Now that they had no need to hasten so much, they had more time to think of the elù-drak.
“Do you think she’ll leave us alone?” Menendil asked.
Caludreth knew exactly who he meant. “Not her. She was hurt, but not killed. Those things are very hard to kill. Very, very hard. She’s out there somewhere, and the pain I inflicted would have receded. No doubt, she’s already looking for us again.”
It was not reassuring, but Menendil felt almost safe in the other man’s presence. Between them both, and the magic the once-knight possessed, they might survive an attack.
They turned another corner, and now they were getting close to the inn and safety.
“You came back for me,” Menendil said. “Thank you for that.”
It seemed a poor way of saying thanks to the man who had saved his life, but it was all he could think of.
Caludreth grinned at him. His face was clear now, for the dawn was at hand. It was still dark, but only a twilight sort of darkness. Day would be swift in coming now, and they must find shelter soon. They could not risk Caludreth being recognized on the streets.
“Of course I came back for you,” the once-knight answered. “You rescued me from a fate worse than any elù-drak, so I still owe you.”
“That debt is repaid now,” Menendil replied. “Well and truly. Faladir needs you. It doesn’t need me, so the risk you took was greater than the risk I took for you.”
“I do not see it so,” the big man replied. “None of this would have happened without you. Your service to Faladir has been greater than my own.”
Menendil did not think so, but this was no time to debate the matter. Already there were a few people in the street forced out on some urgent errand. They seemed hesitant, and well they might be. They could not have missed the terrible cries from not long ago. They would know what creatures were abroad in this part of the city. But daylight was safe, and daylight was at hand.
They kept their distance from the few people they saw, pretending to be just like them and hurrying on some pressing task that could not wait.
“How did you even know I needed help?” Menendil asked.
Caludreth glanced skyward, as they both were doing incessantly.
“I thought as we ran from the statue that you were close behind me. I was wrong though, and I was well down a street before I realized it. I turned to speak to you, and found it was another of the Hundred instead.”
The once-knight paused as a man came from a building nearby. He glanced at them, then looked skyward and walked to the other side of the street to avoid them.
Caludreth continued. “I hesitated then, unsure what to do or where you were. Then I heard the cry of an elù-drak from back in the square, and I knew.”
Menendil realized just how much his life had hung on a thread. Had Caludreth ignored the cry, which no one would have blamed him for, Menendil would not be alive to hear this conversation.
He sighed, and then looked up out of nervousness. Even as he did so, he saw a shadow plummet silently toward them, all pale body and dark wings. With a sudden move, he pushed Caludreth over and sprawled to the ground himself.
The shadow passed over them, and there was a rush of air that Menendil felt across his skin. It gave him the shivers.
But a moment later they were up and running. The buildings helped them here, for they prevented the creature from seeing them at times or launching an attack from most angles.
They disappeared down an alley, and it was one Menendil knew very well. They were close to The Bouncing Stone now, but no matter how close he would not enter its safety while there was a chance of being seen. He would bring no danger down on his wife or staff.
There was no rush of wings for the next attack. The creature did not fly but crawled down a wall toward them. It had done so silently and was nearly upon them when Caludreth cried out.
“Close your eyes!” he ordered. A moment Menendil hesitated, but against all instincts he did as Caludreth asked.
There was a mighty flash of light that burned like the sun even through Menendil’s eyelids, then there was a scream. The creature fell from the wall.
“Run!” Caludreth commanded. And they ran. They crossed a street and went down another alley, and then suddenly they were at the back door of the inn.
“It’s blinded for a few moments,” Caludreth hissed. “Quickly. Let’s get inside while we can.”
Menendil glanced around once more, making sure they were not observed by anyone. Then he opened the door and closed it quickly behind them.
They were safe again, if safety existed any longer in Faladir.
22. We Cannot Hide
Ferla slept, but it would only be a short rest. Dawn was approaching, and then they must be on the move again.
Her sleep was disturbed. Dark dreams threaded through it, and the touch of Savanest’s phantom hand always seemed to be on her skin. He had said she would be his, but she rejected that. Better to die than become what he wanted.
She woke with the morning sun on her face. Asana and Kubodin were already up, and they had prepared breakfast.
She did not much feel like eating.
“Food is medicine,” Kubodin encouraged her. They did not know all that had hap
pened last night, nor all that was said. But they were both shrewd and knew the gist of things and could piece more together.
She ate then, but having started she found that she was indeed hungry. Kubodin watched her with a knowing look, while a little way away Asana practiced a sword form, his every movement pure grace.
She finished eating, and they were ready to leave when she halted them.
“A moment,” she said, and she saw concern in their eyes.
“Savanest will begin the hunt now, and nothing will stop him. We know now how he keeps finding us, and I don’t see a way to prevent him.”
They both looked at her earnestly, but said nothing.
She went on, steeling herself for what she must say. Wishing that it were otherwise, but knowing it was not.
“It’s me he hunts. Only me. You two can get away, and you should.”
They looked at her solemnly. But it was Asana who spoke.
“We thought you would suggest something like this. We discussed it last night after you slept. And we are both in agreement.”
“In agreement about what?”
“We’re not going anywhere, except with you,” Kubodin said. “We made our decision on the mountain, and we knew this would come.”
But not so soon, Ferla thought. She did not say it. Instead, she just looked at them, and felt an enormous sense of gratitude. For all the problems and the evil in the world, it was good for this. True friends who would stand with her, no matter what. Yet still, if something happened to them, she would feel guilty.
She surprised even herself then, and hugged them. She would not argue against their decision.
“Then let us be away,” she said. If they must endure danger by being with her, then at least she could do whatever was possible to protect them. And the sooner they were on the move again, the safer they would be.
They headed off. As usual, she led them, and she employed all the skills she possessed to try to hide their trail. But where they were now, this was not easy, nor would it fool a hound who hunted them by scent. So, while she tried various things, she mostly spent her time finding the easiest trail ahead. That would spare their energy, and perhaps keep them ahead of the enemy.
Alithoras was alive around her as she walked. Perhaps it was the fear of impending death, or worse. Perhaps it was the joy of traveling new lands that she had never seen before. But she loved the grassy slopes and the little forests, no bigger than a farm was back in Dromdruin. She loved it all, and she breathed deep of the fresh air and luxuriated in the wilderness. There was no evidence of long-ago battles. She saw nothing that even indicated people had lived here. Ever. The land was wild and free.
They passed by herds of aurochs, grazing on the verge of woodlands. Hawks hovered in the air, gliding to unseen currents and remaining almost motionless except for their heads that swiveled from side to side searching for food. In patches of bare dirt, she saw the tracks of a badger and a fox.
All around the grass was green and lush, and even as she smelled a strong scent and recognized it, a covey of quail burst from nearly underfoot and hurled themselves with a whoosh of wings in the air. They did not fly far, but landed in cover again.
Her heart raced, and it kept racing as they walked. It was no time for surprises, but the wild was like that. Those who traveled in it got used to its ways, and accepted them. Just as they accepted the dangers. They could break a leg far from home, or twist an ankle or fall down a steep embankment. But those risks were worth it, many times over.
She thought of Faran, and wished he could see this land. He would like it. She wondered where he was. He could not be that far away yet. Perhaps where he was, it was similar to this.
At least he was not in danger though. That was a thought that gave her strength. Savanest had come after her, and whatever came of that Faran would be safe. So as much as it hurt to be away from him, it gave her joy as well.
They moved down a slope, angling their way along a gulley, and the sun warmed their backs. She had changed the direction of their normal travel.
Asana drew level with her. “What are we looking for, Ferla.”
She could see in his eyes that he had guessed the answer.
“I’m hoping to find a good place to defend. We cannot hide, for the were-hound will find my scent.”
Asana was not surprised. She had been right, and he knew. But he was wise enough to explore all options first before committing to that.
“What if we found water though? A creek or a stream does not seem unlikely in this land.”
That was certainly true. And earlier she had wished just that herself. But then she had considered her way through it.
“In the past,” she replied, “I have used water to hide our trail. But it didn’t work, did it?”
Asana frowned at that. It was something he had not realized before. She could not blame him for that. She was the one with the tracking skills, and the better knowledge of the wild. She glanced at Kubodin though, and saw that he knew.
“How could the were-hound follow a scent through water?”
“It’s widely believed,” Ferla said, “that water can hide your trail. But it’s a myth.”
Asana raised an eyebrow.
“It’s true,” Ferla continued. “Walking through a body of water can fool a human tracker. At least sometimes. A human tracker relies on eyesight and spotting the trail. The better ones can get inside the mind of those they track as well, figuring out intuitively what choices they might make.”
“But a dog?” Asana asked.
“A dog tracks by scent. Each of us leave our scent behind wherever we go, and that includes in water. If we were in steep country, and found fast running water somewhere, maybe we could use that. But we’ll have no such luck here. Yet even with swift-running water, a dog would just pick our scent up on the other side.”
They kept walking, and Asana thought on what she said.
“It’s not really possible to evade them then?”
Ferla shook her head. “Not really. Not by hiding our trail or scent. Hounds just can’t be fooled that way. There is another way, but it won’t work for us.”
“What other way is that?”
“We could try to outrun them, for a fit human can do so over a long distance and tire the dog out. We might just be fit enough to do that, but not in armor and carrying weapons.”
“You know a lot about this,” Asana said.
“Tracking and hunting is not much different from fighting. They are all skills, and if you practice and have good teachers you can learn a lot that most don’t know.”
They came out of the gully and walked over a flat area, although the land rose ahead of them again in another slope.
“I assume,” Kubodin said, “that you’ve dismissed the idea of leaving our weapons behind and running?”
He looked like he hoped very much that that was the case.
“I have. All our weapons and armor mean too much to us. But more importantly, running is not certain to bring us to safety. And if not, what then? We would still end up facing the enemy, but would be defenseless against them.”
They tackled the slope ahead of them, moving up swiftly with long strides. Kubodin dismounted from his mule, giving the animal a chance to climb without carrying extra weight.
“Then there’s nothing for it but to do as you suggest. We have to find a place where we can make a stand. Do you have any ideas on that?”
In this field, Asana knew more than she did, and Ferla knew it. But he was still deferring to her.
“We’ll know a good place when we see it,” she said. “A cave with a narrow entrance would do. But there are none around here. At least so far.”
“What about a steep slope?” Kubodin suggested.
Ferla did not much like the idea, but it was probably the best they could hope for.
“A steep slope would make it hard for hounds and for soldiers to attack us. But there would be nothing to stop them from taking the
ir time and coming around at us from behind as well.”
She had told them last night about the were-stones, and that the soldiers who pursued them might be transformed. All of them. It was a sickening feeling, knowing what might be done, what evil might be promulgated, in order to defeat them. Savanest was responsible for that, and if she could she would see that he faced a fitting punishment.
Ferla looked at her two friends. She had a plan, but she was not sure if they would like it.
“This is what I suggest,” she said. “They will find us. There’s nothing we can do about that. But we have time yet. Not much, but a little.” She took a deep breath. “Instead of trying to find a place to defend, and we’re not likely to find a good one, we can do this instead. Race hard to get well ahead of them. Then find a good spot where we can circle back, quite wide so they don’t detect us, and then spring a trap on them from behind. If we catch them unprepared and downslope from us, especially with my bow, we can do a lot of damage to them before the hand-to-hand fighting begins.”
They looked at her for a moment without answering. Asana looked grim, but once more not surprised. Kubodin whistled through his teeth though.
“You have guts, girl,” he said.
23. The Storm Approaches
Ferla wasted no time. She set a fast pace, but it was one they could not keep up for long.
Yet they would not need to. When she found the right place, and then circled back to come up behind the enemy, they could rest then. When they struck, they would be fresh, while the enemy was tired from travel. So she hoped, anyway.
Whatever advantages she could obtain through all this were small, though. Would they be enough? She doubted it. But there was nothing left to do.
They moved ahead, three figures that scrabbled over the vast surface of Alithoras. The futility of life weighed down on her. What was it all for? Whether in a few hours, years or decades she would be dead. In a century, barely a memory of her would remain. If that. Nor would anything she did now, even if she succeeded in her aims, make a difference. The world, having forgotten her, would forget her deeds as well. Her existence would be blotted out just like the animals that dwelt in this land. How many generations of aurochs, or deer, or anything else had lived here? Where were they now, and who remembered them?
