"You will speak to me with respect, Jundag, or I will burn out your tongue with a hot iron. My name is Calmarel Darkmist; you will address me as Mistress. Nod if you understand me."
His head bobbed unwillingly. Darkmist... that name... Another memory: a figure in dark armor with a demon helm. A sword in his own hand plunging into the figure's leg, twisting... A dark broadsword descending in an arc toward his face...
"Good. Now walk in front of me. I have a number of questions I would like to ask you, but we will go someplace more conducive to proper answers."
Her tone spoke volumes. Jundag began to wonder if his recent victory would be his last.
Behemoth was upset; he stamped and pawed the ground and twitched his ears. A life raising horses had taught Avari to read the signs, and his behavior worried her. Although Bo had expressed his disdain for the other mounts by jostling and nipping at them, his temperament had been calm. This morning, however, he was skittish.
"Whoa, boy," she said, reining him to a stop upon a small rise to look around. Bo's ears twitched, a snort sending gouts of steam two feet. "I don't care if you don't like this spot, Bo. We're going to stand here until I can get my bearings."
He calmed, and Avari drew a map from her satchel. The snows that had blanketed Beriknor had not touched this grassy plain, but this landscape offered few landmarks. A low line of trees hugged the horizon ahead. If that was the river on this map, then the village they sought should be somewhere to the northwest.
Bo snorted and pawed the ground, bringing her eyes up from the map. Her friends approached. She smiled at the four tall horses towering over DoHeney's shaggy little mount. The dwarf was, as always, talking a steady stream. Shay's nose was stuck in a spell book—when he studied, he was oblivious to everything—and Lynthalsea was tending to a frayed bowstring.
"So ye see," DoHeney continued as they topped the rise and stopped, "it wasn't really me fault the royal scepter fell in the cesspit. And though he was a bit miffed, the minister didn't really seem ta want it back. As far as I know it still be there, though it may be a bit tarnished, ye understand."
"What is it, Avari?" Lynthalsea sat up and nudged Shay.
"Wha— Oh, we have stopped," he observed. "As it is not yet midday, I gather there is some other reason."
Avari pointed and said, "There's a river ahead, and I—"
"Here, stop that, ye blasted shaggy varmint!" DoHeney's little pony whuffed and pawed, then shook its head. "This dern beast has been actin' up all day! I think he's got brain rot."
"That's strange, Bo has been..." Avari's worried words trailed off and she looked over the fields of waving grass.
"There is a village just over there, Avari." Lynthalsea pointed to the northwest. "I've been watching the smoke from its cooking fires for the last hour or so."
"The last hour?" Avari said. "I can't even see any smoke. Shay, do you see what she's—"
A sound unlike anything they had ever heard cut her short. Deep and sonorous, it shivered the air with its resonant tone.
Everyone froze.
Another throaty roar answered from behind, sending all the horses but Bo into bucking and pawing fits. DoHeney managed to hit the ground feet first, cursing like a sailor. The others wrestled their mounts under control. Avari drew and strung her bow while scanning the scenery, thankful for Bo's training; he stood firm and steady, ears flattened in irritation.
"What kind of beast—" Another roar sounded, this time to the left but even closer, cutting Avari's question short.
"A big cat," Lynthalsea answered as she slid off her horse and strung her bow. "Several. I should have caught their scent earlier, but I wasn't paying attention."
"Stake the horses!" Avari barked, squinting at the rolling hills of tall grass. "Shay, can you do anything to calm them?"
"Indeed, yes!" he replied as he dismounted. The priest reached into a pocket and sprinkled a handful of glittering dust in an arc, pointing a finger at each mount except Bo, while chanting softly. The horses quieted, stumbled and dropped to the grass, stunned senseless. Avari clenched her teeth and cursed herself for not being more explicit.
"That's good, Shay, but if we need to run, we'll probably want them on their feet."
"Oh! Uhh..."
"I think it's a ruse," Lynthalsea said, pointing. "They're not beasts, they look human. Although it's hard to tell in this grass."
Avari could discern vague shapes moving where the elf pointed, and, once she knew what to look for, noticed them in many other directions. Another roar sounded directly ahead, very close this time. As Avari reached down and loosened Gaulengil, the low tone of a horn sounded. At the signal, all movement stopped and the creatures stood up, spear points bristling above the grass, more than two score at a glance.
"I'll be dipped in dragon dung! Look at 'em all!"
Avari ignored DoHeney's exclamation as four of the creatures approached, but was distracted by Lynthalsea's gasp.
"What in the world? Avari, you're not going to believe it!"
"What," she snapped, irritated.
"They are leotaurs," Shay said with amusement.
"What in thunder's a leotard?" DoHeney spat, not happy with the tall grass. He climbed atop a snoring horse for a look.
"Not leotards, but leotaurs, and not what, but who, DoHeney," the half-elf explained. "They are a tribal people who live in the great grasslands. They are said to be reasonably friendly, if not peaceful, but they are also fierce warriors."
"I don't need a sage to tell me that," Avari said, eying the muscular torsos and readied spears. "They look a bit strange; their faces are kind of flat. Hey! That one's got a tail!"
"That's what I was trying to tell you!" Lynthalsea cut in. "They look like feline centaurs."
"That is exactly what leotaurs are." Shay brushed off his cloaks and strode forward. "I hope these speak our language."
"Oh, terrific!"
Avari nocked an arrow, glancing around at her companions. Shay was about five paces in front of her, and could probably take care of himself with a spell. Lynthalsea was a step from Bo's left flank, arrow nocked and ready. Over her other shoulder, DoHeney—Damn that dwarf! Where is he?—was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's DoHeney?" she stage-whispered to Lynthalsea.
"Probably hiding under a horse."
The four advancing leotaurs stopped. The leader, obvious from the decorative feathers and jewelry clattering on his bone armor, handed his spear to one of the others and took a step forward. He raised both arms wide, hands open and empty.
"I am Kzifferrr, First Warrior of tribe Black Paw," the strange creature said, his cat-nose and whiskers twitching as he spoke "You have entered the territory that we claim as hunting ground. We do not wish trouble with the empire of the two-legs, but we do not tolerate trespassers. How do you come here?"
Shay mimicked the leader's peaceful gesture then said, "I am Szcze-kon, priest of Tem the Balancer, Lord of Justice. We are traveling to a village near here. We had no intention of trespassing, and will take nothing from your land. We were following directions from a friend who lives in the great domed city to the south. We will go around your land if you so desire."
"To go around our hunting grounds would take many days," Kzifferrr replied with a smirk, "and I know nothing of the village you seek. Who is this friend of yours who sent you here?"
Shay looked curiously over his shoulder. Avari shrugged and nodded, saying, "His name is Yenjil Thallon. He is captain of the city guard of Fengotherond."
The First Warrior turned to his companions, something utterly incomprehensible rumbling from his chest. Sputters and growls erupted from the other three, then a long bout of hissing that sounded like laughter. Kzifferrr drew a horn from his belt and blew a two-tone blast. The leotaur troops broke from their positions with raucous shrieks and cries. Avari almost kicked Bo into a charge before she realized that they were not attacking, but moving into ranks behind their leader.
"If The Thallon is you
r friend, you are welcome," Kzifferrr bellowed above the din, advancing and shaking Shay's hand. "Come now! We will have a feast to honor the friends of The Thallon. Our lodges are only a short run from here."
Kzifferrr approached, and Avari dismounted to accept his proffered hand. A head shorter than her, he was as long as she was tall, and probably twice her weight. He approached Behemoth, making Avari nervous; she would be damned if she was going to let her horse be part of the feast. To her surprise, however, the leotaur simply extended a hand to be sniffed, and the warhorse seemed no more discordant than with any stranger.
"He is a proud beast," Kzifferrr said, as his yellow eyes scanned the other mounts with unmistakable worry. "But what has befallen the other hoofed ones? Some sickness?"
"No, no. Nothing like that," Shay assured him. "They were frightened, so I stunned them to prevent them from running."
"Ahh. A wise practice," the feline warrior said. "How?"
"Oh, just a harmless little incantation. They'll be fine."
"Oh, you mean magic. Yes! Our shaman can do such things, but I never thought to do it to the hoofed ones. It might make hunting easier, although less challenging." He clapped Shay on the back with staggering force. "You will talk with him when we arrive at the lodges. Let us go!"
Avari re-mounted Bo and watched as Shay countered his spell, rousing their mounts. But there seemed to be too many horses, or too few—
"Wait! Shay, have you seen DoHeney?"
"Hmm. No. Not since the leotaurs approached. DoHeney!"
At the half-elf's call, the dwarf popped up from the grass, halfway between the leader's group and the remainder of the throng. He grinned sheepishly as he unloaded his crossbow.
"Jist thought it might be handy to have one o' us not standin' right out in the open, in case things got nasty." He strode past Kzifferrr and his escort with a nod. "Glad to see it all turned out nice and friendly, considerin' we was a little out-numbered."
Wide-eyed leotaurs stared at DoHeney, whispering to one another in their own language. Then the first warrior approached the dwarf and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Eh? Oh, uh, sorry 'bout sneakin' round ye like that, Mister Kizzyfur. Jist bein' careful, ye know. No offense intended."
"Offense? Ah, no. You do not understand," Kzifferrr explained. "We are not offended, merely embarrassed."
"Huh? I don't rightly follow ye."
"We are usually not so easy to deceive, but neither I nor my warriors detected your presence. You could have killed several of us before being discovered." The leader of the leotaurs drew a cunningly sculpted and wickedly serrated obsidian axe from his belt. He turned it haft-out and presented it to the dwarf with a bow. "Please accept this as token for not pressing the advantage you acquired through superior stealth and cunning."
DoHeney looked uncomfortable, but noticed Shay's urgent nod. From the leotaur's solemn tone, this appeared to be a point of honor. Deciding it was probably best not to argue, DoHeney took the haft of the weapon and accepted it from the warrior.
"I thank ye very much, Mister Kizzyfur, but ye weren't at such a disadvantage." He admired the workmanship and balance of the weapon. "I might o' got a shot or two off, but I'd o' soon been skewered like a roast pig, with all yer friends so close."
"So it may have been," Kzifferrr admitted, "but let us not speak of it hence. There is a feast to be attended."
He rallied his troops with a thunderous roar, formed them into a circle around the companions and started off at a brisk walk. DoHeney admired his new weapon as they rode.
"That is a unique work, DoHeney," Shay noted, bringing his own mount abreast of the dwarf's pony.
"Aye, that it is, lad. But I be thinkin' 'tis jist for show. One good whack and the blade'd crack fer sure."
"Perhaps, and perhaps not," the half-elf surmised. "Many who have only stone to forge into weapons have developed subtle arts that make their works as durable as those of fine steel. Since that particular piece was the personal weapon of the first warrior, I would guess that it is quite functional."
"Ye mean it's got spells on it?" DoHeney eyed the obsidian axe more respectfully, testing its edge with his thumb. "But if it's such a fine weapon, I'd as soon give it back."
"Uh, that would not be prudent, DoHeney," Shay warned.
"Huh? Why not? Suren he'd want it back."
"That he might, but his honor would not allow him to take it." Shay leaned closer and continued in hushed tones. "In fact, had you refused it, or if you now tried to return it, he would be bound by honor to try to kill you."
DoHeney nearly fell of his mount. "Well, I'll jist keep it then, I guess."
CHAPTER 15
Ghendal's cloaks ruffled as the wind tried to sweep him from the shelf halfway up the mountainous glacier. Yet neither the cold nor the wind could wrest the calculating smile from his icy features. The ice trolls labored in the fading light, putting the final touches on his preparations for their visitors. The gems would be his by cunning, surprise, or brute force if necessary. Then Iveron Darkmist would have to come to him.
The Dukarr admired his reflection in the polished ice, but the punctuating ping of hammers on iron brought his eyes up to the two trolls atop the overhanging tunnel mouth. They were pounding long spikes into the ice, his fail-safe plan to prevent the thieves' escape in the unlikely event that they eluded his grasp.
Ghendal's only worry about this part of the plan was that the gems might be destroyed in the avalanche. Hopefully the thieves would keep the precious artifacts close, and their crushed bodies would soften the impact of the falling ice. The thought brought another cold smile to Ghendal's already chilled features.
A platter piled with steaming meat passed directly under Avari's nose, drawing the attention of her waning appetite. She risked one more roasted caribou rib, and paced herself with a sip of the fermented berry juice that the leotaurs swilled like tea.
The feast had lasted for hours, and everyone had eaten their fill. DoHeney had emptied so many cups of juice that he now lay in a semi-conscious slumber, but the party still raged on; leotaur warriors swung leotaur maids, and leotaur musicians played instruments that defied description.
Shay was missing the entertainment, completely engrossed in conversation with the tribal shaman after finally recovering from their initial welcome. All the female leotaurs had wanted to greet the handsome priest—Strange how he is handsome even by leotaur standards, she thought. But with each successive embrace his ears flushed from tan to pink to red, for although covered by golden fur, the females wore only trinkets for clothing and exhibiting startlingly feminine traits.
Lynthalsea was ill-at-ease among the leotaurs. And it's no wonder, Avari thought. If they were to get wind of her wolf persona, they'd be fighting like cats and dogs! She snickered, but her mirth was interrupted by a leotaur warrior's approach.
"Zzzun-frrraay," he rumbled. It was the only leotaur phrase Avari had learned; it roughly meant "good feasting".
"Zun-fray," she answered, unable to roll her R's without coughing, which translated poorly in leotaur. She knew this conversation would be short; most of the warriors spoke only broken common tongue. This particular leotaur surprised her.
"So, you are the one who is to be claiming a friend to The Thallon, yes?"
"Uh, yes," she said, impressed at the warrior's pronunciation, if not his diction. "I am a friend to Yenjil Thallon."
"Ah, yes." He looked at her as if doubtful. "And you are being one of a female, yes?"
His question took her completely off guard. "That's right," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
"Ah, yes." He looked at her even more skeptically. "Is it then that you are to claiming be one of The Thallon's pride?"
"Uh..." she stammered, not knowing what kind of trouble a wrong answer would put her in. "I don't understand. We are close friends, but I don't think I'm part of anyone's 'pride'."
"Truth?" The leotaur's eyes popped with amazement. "But you are being
so healthy and strong. You could mother many kittens. How is it that you are not belonging to someone?"
"I, uh... thank you, I think." Avari tried to decipher the compliment through the haze of alcohol. "I don't belong to anyone, because I don't want to be the mother of many kittens, or children. At least, not yet."
"Hrrrrmmmm," the warrior rumbled, his bushy brows furrowing. "Well, you are being a very different female indeed, I am thinking. When I have a pride I will not be wanting females that are not wanting to have many kittens. I am being very sorry to have been disturbing you. Zzzun-frrraay."
"Zun—Wait a minute." Avari grabbed the creature's arm and pulled him back. "You said 'females'. You mean each male in your tribe has more than one wife?"
"No. That would be being impossible. There are only as many females as males. Only the males with prides have 'wives', as you call them. Males such as myself are being without prides, but someday I will be having a pride."
"And The Thallon has a pride?" Avari asked.
"Oh, yes!" the warrior admitted. "His is being one hand in number, though he may have some two-leg wives also."
Avari nearly choked. Yenjil Thallon had WIVES? And not only wives, but leotaur wives! And five of them! Her mind blurred with anger. Surely he could not have actually...
"When did he get these wives?" she asked numbly.
"Oh, it was just after he was in the helping of our tribe to be defeating the Swarm. The Thallon was teaching our warriors something he was calling 'Tac-Tics'. The chief gave him a hand of his own she-kittens as a reward. After the wedding night, The Thallon said he would be having to leave us; he lent his wives to the First Warrior until his returning."
"Oh, he did, did he?" Avari fumed.
"Yes, he did. But I am seeing in your anger that you are after all being one of The Thallon's pride. He is a very noble two-leg. You should not disclaim his ownership."
"Ownership?" Avari sputtered. "Now listen here, you... What's your name anyway?"
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