Stalking the Beast

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Elyana dropped her sword point-first into the forest floor, where it stood quivering as she whipped up her bow and nocked an arrow. The first shaft thrust through the monster's cheek. The next two ended up in its chest, and it wailed for a moment before it dissolved into black smoke.

  A quick scan revealed her own squad was mostly unharmed, but there were still sounds of shouting from the others. In response to her assessing look, Cyrelle managed a breathless, "I'm fine," even though she was wiping blood from her mouth onto the back of her hand.

  "Get the girl's horse," Elyana commanded Grellen, "and get yourselves mounted, fast." She snatched her sword and rode north.

  Calda easily threaded around the wide tree boles, and within moments Elyana was in sight of a second battle. Drutha warily sat her dog, watching while Illidian knelt upon the ground holding a rope. It was a strange sight until Elyana realized that the rope hung into a square pit in front of the elf, and she halted Calda in mid-step, for she saw that one of the horses lay contorted nearby. Aladel's gelding had been too large to plummet into a second pit, but when the ground had given way the horse must have broken its neck, for it lay motionless with its rear haunches pointed toward the trees and its front end rammed into the pit's far side. Darkness gaped below. She felt a sudden stab of regret. Was Aladel dead? She'd rather begun to like the competent, well-spoken elf.

  She showed no emotion in her orders. "Round up the others," she told Drutha, "and check on Drelm."

  Drutha nodded once and with but a light touch her dog turned and ran south.

  Illidian glanced up at her. Clearly he was having some difficulty holding a rope with a hand and a hook, but he was too proud to ask for aid. Wordless, she stepped to his side and took up the rope, which he had anchored around a nearby tree bole.

  "What happened?"

  "Those monsters popped into those trees at the same moment we hit the pit traps. Galarias and his horse dropped into one. Aladel managed to dive clear of the one he triggered. We killed the monsters, and Aladel climbed down to check on Galarias."

  "I'm coming up," Aladel's voice echoed hollowly from below.

  She tried to show no relief in her posture or voice. As a leader it was bad form to show favoritism, especially when Illidian's own blood cousin, Galarias, might be dead.

  Elven vision was adept at piercing darkness, but there was little to be seen apart from a mass beneath the elf now climbing up via the rope and handholds in the pit. When he reached the edge he nimbly pulled himself clear, then undid the rope from his waist. The gaze of the dark-haired, black-garbed elf was sober. "Galarias is on the bottom, under his horse," Aladel said quietly. "They will not be coming up. I'm sorry, Illidian." He eased saddlebags off his shoulder and set them heavily upon the ground. He traded a quick glance with Elyana, smiled grimly.

  Illidian loosed the rope and stood stiffly, then stepped to the very edge of the pit and stared inside.

  For a moment Elyana was afraid he meant to pitch himself after.

  "I grieve with you, cousin," Elyana told him.

  Drelm's horn call split the air from somewhere to the south, and Elyana cursed.

  "Walk lightly," she said. "There may be more of these damned traps. Ride double, and follow my tracks."

  Elyana wished she might have trodden more carefully herself, but the best she could do was lean slightly to the left so she could eye the terrain as she guided Calda.

  Could they really have missed the summoner last night? Or might he still be a part of one of their squads, sending forth a summoned horse to lead them to these pits?

  Cyrelle's hounds were baying somewhere south, ferociously, as though they had a strong scent and meant to chase it to the ends of the earth. Swiftly the sounds ebbed westward.

  Elyana arrived at the site of their first battle with Cyrelle's ape, then followed the tracks of her companions to where they were hunkered around another pit. Grellen was steadying the rope while Drutha kept guard and Melias stood nervously clutching the black wand. She was wide-eyed, almost dazed, and Elyana wondered how she could possibly survive much longer. The hazards of the expedition were far beyond her level of capability. Of Cyrelle there was no sign.

  "Who's in the pit?" Elyana asked. Could all four of Drelm's squad have been walking so close that they'd plunged in together?

  "Calvonis is the summoner," Drutha reported, her eyes bright and a little mad. The halfling's dog, sensing her mood, growled. "Drelm and Lisette are down there, and they're not hurt too bad. But Karag's dead."

  "Calvonis?" Elyana repeated.

  Drutha's voice was low, bitter. "He's a fine actor, isn't he? Lisette said he dropped Karag's body into the pit after them."

  Elyana's mind cycled back to the moments when she had seen Calvonis in action. Had there been some moment that she'd missed, some statement that she should better have understood?

  Lisette was scowling as she clambered from the pit. A large bruise stood out along one cheek, and her face was blood-spattered. She glared at Elyana then at the surroundings in general.

  Drelm came up more slowly, the dead dwarf slung over his shoulders. Elyana and Drutha stepped closer to drag the blood-drenched corpse from him.

  "He's heavier than he looks," Drutha said, then added, quickly: "No offense meant to the poor fellow."

  Elyana had a hard time believing anyone had ever called Karag a poor fellow before that moment. Even in death he looked mean. Judging from the bone- and brain-splattered back of the dwarf's skull, Calvonis had struck from behind.

  Drelm pulled himself up, fastidiously brushed some dirt off his tabard, then reported the sequence of events in more detail. As he finished, Cyrelle returned, her horse snorting in greeting at the others.

  "My hounds are still after him," she said, breathless, "but can't outpace his spectral horse. I've got Balok watching him from above."

  Elyana nodded. She pushed through the shock and anger; there was no time to wonder what might have been done differently. "His horse spell has to wear out eventually," she observed. "Casters need their rest to work their spells, and he's gotten no more than the rest of us. We must keep after him."

  "But why is he doing it?" Melias asked. "It makes no sense. He was sitting next to me just this morning at breakfast, and handed me some bread..."

  "He's cracked, girl," Grellen told her. "I wish I had a better answer. He needs killing."

  "We're in complete agreement there," Drutha replied. "Why would he reveal himself now, though? It doesn't make sense."

  Now wasn't the time for debate. Elyana turned to Illidian. "We must pursue. If you'd like to remain behind to bury Galarias—"

  "No." Illidian cut her off with a short chopping motion, made with his remaining hand. "Galarias would want us to hunt this man down." He slipped into Elven. "All that he was in our world is gone, now, and anything I do for him is more for me than him."

  Aladel had come up behind the grieving captain and put a hand to his shoulder, but Illidian shrugged it off. "Let us be on with it."

  Lisette waved off any suggestion that Karag needed burial, though judging by the scowl etched across her face, the dwarf apparently had meant more to her than Elyana realized.

  The markswoman rummaged through the dwarf's gear and added what she wished to her own saddlebags, then Drelm eased his body back into the pit, where it landed with a sodden thump. Lisette claimed not to know what god the dwarf worshiped, saying only that he took a lot of their names in vain.

  "I will ask Abadar to guide him, then," Drelm said, and bowed his head at the side of the pit.

  Elyana would not have thought Lisette could look more angry until she glowered at the offer. Drelm, though, seemed oblivious. Like most of the half-orc's prayers, it didn't take long.

  Elyana sent Aladel and Cyrelle ahead with Grellen. While Drutha and Drelm oversaw the consolidation of their remaining supplies she took Melias aside.

  "You're stuck with us now, girl. You claimed to be a sorcerer, but I haven't seen you manage
much. What spells can you handle?"

  The girl met her eyes only briefly before looking shamefacedly down at the forest floor. "I can conjure some magic bolts," she said softly. "And slicken up the forest floor, like. And I can start fires, and do a few other little things that probably aren't that useful right now."

  That was about what Elyana had expected. Demid had rejected her, declaring her an amateur, and the girl's self-assessment bore that out.

  "Are you having any luck with the wand?"

  Lips tight, the girl shook her head. "I can sort of see the...number of syllables the incantation needs to work, but I haven't been able to find them yet."

  "You keep trying," Elyana said. "That might be the only thing standing between you and a monster. But make sure you keep it pointed away from us while you practice." She wished she hadn't had to add that caveat, but there was no telling what a rank novice would do.

  Weakly, the girl nodded her assent.

  A few moments later they were mounted on the remaining horses, and within half an hour they'd completely left the tree cover to venture across open and rolling hills. They caught up to Cyrelle and her hounds, and the huntswoman reported that her hawk still followed the summoner, headed north and west.

  "He's on a coal-black, glowing mount," the huntswoman reported. "I don't know how we'll catch him. It doesn't ever slow." She leaned down to pet the side of her foam-flecked mount.

  Elyana looked over her shoulder. What she wouldn't give for a real wizard. "Melias. Any idea how long this kind of spell can last?"

  The girl shook her head, slowly, her eyes down.

  "It will depend upon how skilled the caster is," Illidian said.

  "But even a skilled caster can't ready more spells when he's in the saddle, can he?" Elyana asked.

  No one seemed to know for sure, but all agreed that was likely true. "Then we keep pushing him," she said.

  Illidian's teeth showed in a savage smile.

  "What if we're just doing what he planned, though?" Drutha asked. "What if he wants us to chase him?"

  Elyana looked down at her. The halfling could not help but look faintly comical perched there atop her dog.

  "What are you saying?" Grellen asked gruffly.

  The halfling looked up at the graying mercenary, who'd stopped at her other side. "Elyana and Drelm think Calvonis set those traps a while ago," she said, "and the only way he could have done that is if he planned to lure people here."

  "I'm tired of debating this," Illidian called from ahead of them. "He toys with us. He thinks this is a game." The elf nearly spat the last word.

  "We follow," Elyana said to Drutha's searching look. "We push until he breaks."

  "What if we break first?" Drutha muttered.

  Elyana pretended she didn't hear.

  Come late afternoon, Cyrelle reported that her hawk had seen Calvonis cross a wide river, then dismount before a forest on its far side. The summoner's horse had vanished, and then he had walked into the woods. So thick was the canopy that the hawk could find no sign of him below. Drutha pointed out that Calvonis surely knew they would be following, and might even have known that Cyrelle's hawk would see exactly where he entered.

  "It's probably another trap," she added, as if that weren't already clear.

  They reached a hill overlooking that river, the Sellen on its southward run toward Kallas Lake, by early evening. Illidian cursed in Elven the moment he looked down upon it and the forest on its other side. Elyana understood his fury. The river was wide and the ferry lay on the far shore, so they'd be obliged to swim. The trees on the far side were thick with foliage. They would be hard pressed to lead horses through that tangled mess. Still, they could track Calvonis easily through the woods, and the large beast he summoned would have a hard time maneuvering where the trees were so thick. To her questioning look, Illidian showed his teeth.

  "Don't you see?" he asked. "That's the Wilewood. We've reached Sevenarches."

  "So?" Lisette prompted.

  Aladel's reply was serenely calm. "The druids forbid all elves from entering Sevenarches."

  "And there's nasty things said to be in the Wilewood, lass," Grellen added.

  "Can't get much nastier than what we've seen already," Lisette snapped.

  Grellen only shook his head. "You'd be surprised."

  "Damn the druids." Illidian kneed his animal forward.

  "Wait a moment." As Elyana held up her hand she worried briefly that Illidian wouldn't obey, but he slowed his horse a few meters down the slope and turned to look up at her expectantly.

  "I'm new to the area myself," she admitted. "Why do the druids ban elves from Sevenarches?"

  "They will not say," Aladel answered quietly.

  "And what," she asked, "do they do with elves that trespass?"

  "Some get escorted to the border," Aladel answered. "And others are never seen again. It's a point of contention between Kyonin and the druids, but they won't divulge whatever secret they keep."

  "A pox upon them," Illidian snapped. "My blood cousin lies rotting in a pit, and my patrol lies sleeping in border soil. Let the druids stop me if they dare. If the rest of you will not ride, I go alone."

  "We will go," Elyana said grimly. More and more she worried that Drutha was right and that their pursuit but acted out a plan Calvonis desired.

  It took far longer than Elyana would have preferred to find a narrower point along the riverbank, and even then it was a long swim over, each holding to the saddle of his or her mount, or, in Drutha's case, a pack horse. Grellen confessed he didn't swim very well, but it was Lisette who seemed most nervous. Even though she said her powder was stored in watertight oilskin bags, she nervously held the packs on the height of her saddle, out of the water.

  Once all dogs, horses, and expedition members finally crossed, Elyana had little trouble locating the improbably perfect hoofprints of Calvonis's magical steed, and she took careful note of his own bootprints. Might he wait just beyond the thick line of trees, as Drutha feared, beside more traps? Or did he lair more deeply?

  She cast her eyes skyward. Out in the open, she'd be calling to set up camp in another hour or so. And they were all tired. They would have to leave their horses outside the trees, which meant they'd have to shoulder all their supplies.

  Yet how could they dare stop, now? Calvonis was surely tiring. And from what Aladel had said about the Wilewood, no human was likely to have allies within.

  She commanded them to ready for a march, then stepped aside and cleared her mind of worries so she might communicate fully with Calda. While she had a special bond with the animal, aided by her magic, conveying complex ideas was far from simple.

  The mare didn't like this strange place with its disquieting woods, and was pleased to learn she might return to that cool hill with the long sweet grass across the river. She promised she would shepherd the herd—the other horses—and wait for Elyana. Harder to explain was the passage of time, but Elyana felt fairly sure Calda understood that if the expedition didn't come from the woods by the time of high sun she was to lead the herd back to the feed grounds. She rubbed Calda's nose, gave her a final sliver of dried apple, then left her.

  Elyana took careful note of the point where Calvonis had entered the woods, then led the expedition a third of a mile south. She'd be damned if she followed his track precisely into the timber this time. Surely he couldn't have arranged traps along the whole line of trees.

  The others followed, quiet. The space beneath the canopy in this forest was close, and strangely ominous. Elyana tried to shake off the sense they were watched, and couldn't quite do it.

  She advanced with Cyrelle and the elves, leaving the louder group to manage a few hundred paces behind them. The huntswoman's hounds slid silently ahead through the undergrowth, their coats rendered black in the sketchy light.

  "It's not right in here," Cyrelle told her quietly.

  "I share your sentiment," Aladel agreed.

  Cyrelle spoke on; she
seemed uncharacteristically nervous. "I've heard folk say these woods are haunted, but I always thought that was just the druids trying to scare people off. Now I'm not so sure."

  A rich, thick voice rang out from the trees on their left. It sounded amused. "The Oakstewards?"

  Elyana whirled, only to find nothing there. The man's voice then came from behind them.

  "I wouldn't be so worried about the Oakstewards," it said. "I think, instead, you should be concerned about yourselves. For you have trespassed into the Wilewood, and it belongs to me."

  The hounds came creeping back to Cyrelle, whimpering, their tails between their legs. The big huntswoman had to shush them before they quieted their whining, but they insisted on huddling as close as they could beside her.

  Elyana put her hand to her blade. "Back to back," she ordered. "One of you face each direction." She then raised her voice and addressed the air. "Who are you?"

  It was not her imagination—the shadows beneath the trees were deepening, as though the darkness were a living thing, clutching at them with eager fingers.

  "I am Lord of the Wilewood," the voice called to them, though she still could see no speaker. "And you are trespassers. Outsiders are not welcome here."

  At that very moment Drelm and Drutha, Lisette, Grellen, and Melias came hurrying forward, ahead of something that laughed eerily behind them. They fled into the dim light that remained in a circle about Elyana and the others. All else was darkness.

  Elyana pointed them into defensive positions.

  The voice had taken on a deep, echoing quality, and Elyana was no longer sure from which direction it came.

  Darkness fell completely, as if a theater curtain had dropped and all the stage lights were down. Even Elyana's sight couldn't pierce it.

  "Stand fast," she told the rest of her forces. "Form a ring."

  "Spread out," came a voice from her left. Her own voice. "If we separate they can't get us all."

  "That's not me!" Elyana shouted. "Stand fast, form a ring!"

  "You heard her," Drelm barked from close at hand.

  "That voice is not me," called a voice like Drelm's, from Elyana's right. "You heard the elf! Run for it!"