by Robert Ryan
They were dust beneath her feet, she knew. And to dust she would turn one day too.
She gritted her teeth and strode ahead. Perhaps Savanest had done something to her. This was not the way she normally thought, and in truth, while she could not deny much of what she had considered, it was not quite right, either.
She had no wish to live forever. Aranloth had cured her of that. He was a man who had endured much, and time only made it worse, not better. But most of all, what she did now had a chance, slim though it was, of changing the world for the better. Her legacy would live long after her.
For if she did not stop Druilgar, she knew what would happen. Aranloth had told her much about the Morleth Stone, and like a sickness it would infect people. Evil would spread, and the darkness that had begun with the king, then spread to knights, the city and the realm, would spread all over the land.
Druilgar would be at its head, and he would bring war and death to neighboring lands, and seek to conquer all Alithoras if he could. The longer this went on, the stronger he would get and the harder to defeat.
It was up to her to stop that. Or at least to be the focal point for all those who would oppose it. That was her role, and that was the burden of the prophesy that had foretold her.
In the end, if she achieved that, she would have fulfilled her destiny. Nothing else mattered, and if she did die, at least she would die for a purpose worthy of such a sacrifice.
But it did gnaw at her that failure would not mean death. She understood now the opposing fate that evil had planned for her. That must never come to pass, and she vowed silently, in her heart, that she would force them to kill her rather than allow herself to be captured.
The afternoon passed, and they traveled with great haste, taking few breaks. Ever they looked behind them, studying the backtrail, but always they looked skyward too. Danger seemed to lie in wait all around them, but Ferla pushed that aside. She would do what she could, and it would work or it would not. There was nothing else to do, and fear, if she let it, would sap her of both strength and hope.
She would not let it.
The country began to change. It grew a little steeper, which was the kind of terrain that could be used to advantage. Also, rocks began to appear in the earth, often mostly their tips showing above the shorter grass, but sometimes they lay loose on the surface.
It was warm for a winter’s day in the afternoon sun, which beat down from a clear sky, but it was also humid. In the east clouds gathered again, and another storm brewed.
They came at length to a steep slope. It was mostly grass, with just a few trees. But those trees grew thicker toward the top. The incline was the greatest one so far, and they pushed themselves to walk it. They were becoming tired now.
Kubodin led his mule up the slope, but the creature moved with surprising nimbleness, tackling both the steepness and the rough surface, littered with large rocks, easily.
The slope never seemed to end, but Ferla hoped it would provide them just the kind of place she was looking for to set a trap. But as they eventually neared the crest, the trees did indeed thicken into a band of forest. She feared if the forest continued down the other side that it would make a poor place to set an ambush. The trees would only provide cover to the enemy and the advantage of her bow would be lost. It was on the bow that her hopes rested to come out of this alive. But only if she could use it for a considerable amount of time before the enemy closed in to fighting range.
Kubodin stumbled and cursed, then righted himself and kept striding upward. He was tired now, as they all were.
Soon though, they at last reached the crest, which was almost flat, and entered the forest. It was dark here, and the humidity became stifling.
They walked ahead through the aisles of trees. It was strange here, for though the trees were stunted they were mostly pines, and there was still an ancient litter of needle-like leaves beneath their boots. The surface was new, but beneath that was the earthy remnants of leaves from centuries of windfalls.
Ferla moved with care. They could not see much, and walking was difficult. Because while the loamy soil was soft, often hard rocks lay beneath. Each step was different from the last, and only the mule seemed to move with ease. And perhaps Asana, who could make falling over appear graceful.
The level ground gave way swiftly, and Ferla’s heart leaped. Before them fell away a steep slope, and the forest stopped abruptly, not marching down the incline but hugging only the crest of the ridge.
Better still, nothing grew on the slope. Not only were there no trees, but no grass either. It was a long, long incline of loose rocks.
They paused, looking down, and Ferla spoke. “This is it. This is what I’ve been looking for.”
Asana and Kubodin studied the landscape with her. She knew what they were thinking, and how they were evaluating it. They were doing exactly as she had done.
“I agree,” Asana said. “We’ll not find a better place than this to set a trap.”
Kubodin surveyed the land with his dark eyes, and then turned that gaze upon her.
“Nor can we travel much farther. Every hour like this saps us. Best to end this soon, and then rest. After the enemy comes up the slope that we just did to get here, they’ll be tired. I know I am. That’s the time to strike, especially once we’re rested ourselves.”
They hastened down the slope, and the stones were loose below them. They slipped and fell, and even Asana looked ill at ease. Only the mule negotiated it without mishap.
When they reached the bottom, Ferla looked back. Their trail was plain to see, and their scent would be there too. The enemy could not miss it, which was exactly what she wanted.
Before them, the land leveled out into a shallow basin. It looked like a dried lake, but it had been a long time since a body of water had lain here. It was a bowl of dust, and here too they left a trail that would be visible from above.
She took them to the other end of the dusty surface, but as soon as they were on grass again, she turned right.
“Time to hasten,” she said. “If the enemy comes upon us before we’re ready, all is lost.”
Tired as they all were, they set a fast pace. At first, they kept going in the same direction, but eventually they swung back around and headed uphill again. This area was also covered by that same slippery surface of stones, though it was not as bad as where they had gone down. Ferla clambered up, and despite the fact that her thighs burned and she was constantly slipping on the loose surface, she shared a quick grin with Kubodin. She had wanted a good place for an ambush, and she had found one. If the enemy fell for the trap, they would be caught on this slope and her bow would be effective.
Eventually, they reached the top again. There, they had to rest, for they were breathing hard and bleeding from several falls. But they could not wait long. Not here. They had to get close enough to their original trail where they first descended the slope so that they could see the enemy when they arrived, but yet not so close that they could be detected themselves.
The forest was hushed around them as they walked, and they went ahead carefully because they could not know how close their pursuers were. But Ferla had been careful to angle around from the side that was downwind of where the enemy would be. They would not, at least she hoped, be scented by the were-hound.
“You have your bow,” Kubodin said, “but some spears would serve us well also.”
The little man took out his axe and wandered around the forest. From time to time the sound of his axe thudded through the quiet, and Ferla feared they would give themselves away to the enemy. Yet she did not think they were close enough to hear yet, and spears, even if they had no metal head, would give them another means of attack other than the bow.
Kubodin returned with a handful of saplings that he had cut down, all about the right thickness and six feet long. Then he went off to find some more.
“Let’s get to work,” Asana said.
They drew their knives and began to s
harpen the end of the saplings. Somehow, Kubodin had managed to find hardwood. That was far better, for pine would be too light to do serious damage. Even the hardwood saplings would be useless against armor, but if any managed to strike exposed arms and legs, they would cause injuries. Injuries that might debilitate.
Kubodin returned with more, and they had about twenty all together. They were not likely to be able to use that many. They could not be thrown over anywhere near the distance that her bow could be used. By the time the enemy was in range, they would have closed the gap to about fifty feet.
She smiled grimly. Fifty paces up that slope was slow going. They might yet be able to use all those spears, and all the while there would be arrows flying too. The enemy would have a hard time of things indeed. If they fell for the trap.
The afternoon wore on, and they rested as best as they could. Ferla noticed that Kubodin had not tethered the mule, and indeed had removed its reins, saddle and carry bags where much of their dwindling supplies were kept. When the time arrived, it would be free to run.
She approved. They all knew what it meant, but none of them said anything. If they were to die here, then at least the mule could escape. She was glad of that.
As they waited, the storm built in the east, piling clouds on clouds until it looked ominous. This time, it was coming for them. Already the air felt strange, and a few gusts of wind picked up leaves and dust and blew them swirling through the air. No sooner did the leaves land than another gust lifted them, and from somewhere not that far away there was the dusty smell of new rain on the earth.
The wind picked up. It changed direction a few times, and Ferla feared it might swing the wrong way and take their scent to where the enemy was expected to show. If that happened, all was lost.
But the wind favored them, even if the rest of the weather did not. A pitter patter of rain came and went, and thunder rumbled. The towering storm drew closer, and it was much darker than it should be for this time of day, even though it was now late in the afternoon.
A hush fell over the forest. The only sound now was the wind in the tops of the trees, and the thunder. The three companions had positioned themselves behind a fallen tree trunk, itself victim likely enough to a storm such as the one that approached, but it must have been several years ago.
Lightning flashed, and even as it did the enemy appeared, following the trail that had been set for them. It was hard to see much, for it was hundreds of feet away, but Savanest was there, and he stood upon the ridge looking down the rocky slope. Yet he hesitated.
Perhaps he sensed the trap. Perhaps he was considering where best to find shelter against the storm, or if he should do so at all while his quarry might try to travel through it.
But for whatever reason, he hesitated. And he gave no signal for his followers to descend the slope.
24. Battle!
Savanest hesitated, and Ferla held her breath.
The servants of the once-knight milled behind him, and it was hard to see clearly because of the distance, trees and the dying light of the sun. Yet Ferla felt her heart skip a beat as she realized the men, every one of them, had now been transformed into were-beasts.
What evil could countenance such a thing? What man could inflict such an atrocity on fellow men?
Her hatred of Savanest flared to life. She knew that was wrong. She knew that such a strong emotion might jeopardize her judgement, but she could not help it.
She sensed Asana stiffen beside her, and Kubodin on her other side muttered unintelligibly under his breath.
The tension grew. Savanest remained poised on the ridge, but he did not descend. Lightning flared, splitting the sky, and thunder rumbled over the land. The storm was no longer distant, but drawing close, and the wind picked up, hurling debris through the forest and bending the tops of the trees.
Trying to be calm, Ferla strung her bow. It was a familiar action. It was ordinary, and by doing it she hoped to settle her mind. She must be rational and calculated here.
It did not work. She fumbled several times, and her heart continued to race. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and a spattering of rain lashed across her face. The wind blew it in sideways at her, but then the wind died away and in the momentary lull all seemed still and the rain stopped.
She waited, and in the temporary pause, where even nature held her breath, Savanest finally acted.
Slowly, the once-knight raised his hand, and then swiftly he brought it down. It was a signal, and all at once the were-beasts howled and grunted and barked. In a mad rush they leaped forward, and they tumbled in a chaotic group down the side of the slope in a frenzy. But for all their chaos, they were unified by the single purpose of pursuing the trail.
Savanest waited until they were all passed him, and then he too moved down the slope, going carefully. But for all his dignity, Ferla could not help feel that he was the one true beast of them all.
Ferla felt her heart pound. This was the moment she had planned for. She did not look at the other two. She knew they would be with her. Bounding up, she leaped over the fallen log and raced toward where the enemy had stood but moments ago.
It could still all go wrong. It could go terribly wrong. If she tarried too long, the enemy might be too far down the slope and away from them. If she were too quick, they might not be far enough down the slope and her opportunity to kill by arrow would be diminished.
Worst of all, Savanest could be cautious. He had time on his hands. He did not need to come back up the hill and attack. He would know such a move would cost him, and he might choose to stay right where he was until nightfall, and then climb the slope elsewhere and track her again.
They glided through the forest, and they left the mule behind. If any of them lived, they could come back for it.
The storm drew closer still, and lightning forked the sky. The trees danced around them, and a smattering of rain drove hard against their faces.
Ferla caught a glimpse of Asana. He was serene, and yet there was an alertness and determination about his face that forewarned trouble for the enemy. Not for the first time she was glad he was a friend. On her other side, Kubodin ran with his axe in his hand. There was a light of glee in his eyes, and the joy of battle was on him.
They passed through the forest like avenging wraiths. The wind tore at them, and lightning gleamed in their eyes and off their weapons.
Ferla slowed when she reached the point near where Savanest had stood. Crouching low, with the others nearby, she came to the very crest of the ridge and looked down.
The enemy was most of the way down the slope. She was neither too early nor too late. The were-beasts had spread out, trying to find a good path, but there was none. All about them the rocks turned and shifted under their tread, and it was worse now that rain had slickened them. She would not like to be caught down there and suffer attack by arrow. If that happened, she would seek cover. Yet now, she must incite the enemy to attack uphill.
Savanest was there too. He was among the beasts, though he was apart from them always. He commanded them by the power of the were-stones, but he was no comrade in arms. Perhaps that was to her advantage. He would not hesitate to see the beasts die. He might send them to attack where he would have spared a troop of men. Maybe.
Ferla stood, standing on the crest and no longer sheltered by trees. The wind tore at her clothes and slashed at her eyes. This much at least was not to her advantage. It would diminish the range of her bow and her accuracy.
She nocked an arrow, but then she hesitated. The enemy had not seen her, but could she loose an arrow into one of their backs?
A moment more she hesitated, and then she acted. This was war, and the enemy in her place would give her no quarter. She had no need to warn them, and yet she would. An arrow sped by surprise could scatter them and defeat her purposes. She needed them scrambling up the slope toward her instead.
She lowered her bow, and the wind fanned her red hair behind her.
“Hail, S
avanest!” she shouted. “Coward knight and servant of the dark. Why do you run from me?”
Even above the rumble of thunder and the whistling of the wind along the stony slope, her voice carried.
Savanest spun around, drawing his sword. The were-beasts gathered around him, uncertain. Some howled and others grunted.
“You have come to me, girl.” Savanest answered. He seemed not to shout at all, and yet his voice carried above the din of nature and beasts combined. It was in some way enhanced by magic. “I knew you would submit to my authority.”
That sent a shiver of anger through Ferla’s body, and yet she did not answer straightaway. To either side of her, Asana and Kubodin drove their spears into the ground point first. They could be grasped that way for throwing without wasting the time needed to bend to the ground and pick them up.
The anger that Ferla felt receded. In its place a wave of cold fear rolled over her. She remembered Savanest binding her when she spirit walked. She remembered the feeling of helplessness and acceptance of her fate like a deer with a wolf working its jaws into her throat. There was no point in resisting. Better to accept fate and let it run its course swiftly.
Then she understood. Savanest was not only using magic to enhance his voice, but also to strike at her as a weapon, to fill her mind with doubt and defeat.
She laughed, and she infused the sound with magic and drove it into the teeth of the wind. What skill did Savanest possess that she did not?
“Are you a knight, or a petty trickster, Savanest? You are not worthy to fight me. Flee! Begone, and take your ragtag band of slinking, servile beasts with you.”
