The Companions tms-6

by Tina Daniell

  "That blasted kender," muttered Flint.

  "What about my brother?" Caramon looked questioningly at Cloudreaver.

  "As yet," Cloudreaver replied grimly, "there is no sign of the mage."

  "So we know Kit is imprisoned near the center of the old city," said Tanis. "We also know that she's well guarded. How many are we now… twenty, thirty?"

  No one volunteered an immediate reply. Tanis looked around the group. Brave but tense faces stared back at him. Everyone realized the numbers heavily favored the minotaur forces.

  Cloudreaver shrugged. "Perhaps Bird-Spirit will know something more about the camp when he returns," Cloudreaver said encouragingly. "He is not only my chief of scouts, but an expert tactician when it comes time for battle."

  "Whatever the odds, we have to attempt a rescue tomorrow," Sturm said. The other companions murmured their agreement.

  "Yes," assented Cloudreaver in a solemn tone. "Tomorrow."

  Almost involuntarily, everyone glanced upward. Already the sun had disappeared from the sky. A rosy twilight would precede the cold night.

  "I suspect we'll have our fill of fighting tomorrow," Flint said grumpily. "Best thing to do is make sure we're ready." With that, the old dwarf pulled out his battle-axe and whetstone. The rest of the group settled down to similar preparations for battle.

  Winging his way back to the temporary camp, something below caught Bird-Spirit's attention. He circled around and backtracked to get a better look. A minotaur soldier was rolling around near a large hole in the ground, apparently fighting, but what was he fighting with? Bird-Spirit risked dipping down for a closer look.

  The bull man, at least seven feet tall, was dwarfed by the creature it fought-a hulking, four-legged armored monster with a raised crest on its back, taller than the minotaur and almost twice again as long. The bizarre creature moved low to the ground on four horny paws, striking out repeatedly at the minotaur and snapping at him with its jaws. The creature had knocked the minotaur to the ground and was keeping him from getting up with its vicious assaults.

  Waving a forpann, the minotaur attempted to stab the creature with the trident part of his weapon. If he was successful, he could use the weighted net to pin down the beast and finish the kill. Off balance and dodging the creature's attack, however, the minotaur was having trouble landing a blow. Each jab of the creature's claws drew more blood.

  Fascinated, trying to determine what the thing fighting the minotaur was, Bird-Spirit dropped farther, hovering just above the fray.

  The minotaur managed to jump up and hurl himself across the beast's back. Holding on with one hand, the minotaur stabbed the creature under its crest, where its plate of armor stood out from its back. With a keening cry, the creature leaped several feet into the air, just beneath the hovering kyrie.

  Only then did Bird-Spirit realize what the creature was. It was a bulette, sometimes called a land shark, a voracious predator so rare that neither Bird-Spirit nor any other kyrie that he knew of had ever seen one.

  From the small basket dangling at his side, Bird-Spirit pulled out what looked like a bundled vine.

  Below him, the minotaur's momentary advantage had evaporated. The bulette had managed to twist around in midair, landing squarely on the minotaur's shoulders. The bulette began to slash at the bull-man's legs and back with its clawed feet. At the same time, powerful jaws fastened around his neck.

  Just at that point, Bird-Spirit swooped down and threw the tanglenet over the bulette. Consisting of a rare plant called choke creeper, the tanglenet quickly enveloped its target, pinning it down in a living constraint. Whenever the bulette tried to move, the plant constricted, its rubbery tendrils wrapping tightly around the brute monster.

  Bird-Spirit doubted whether the tanglenet would have been as effective against the bulette if the savage creature hadn't been wounded. It also helped that the bulette, preoccupied with its own fight, hadn't noticed the kyrie until it was too late.

  The kyrie warrior dropped to the ground and cautiously approached the bulette. The monster neither thrashed about nor cried out. It remained exceedingly still, as if dead, regarding Bird-Spirit with malevolent yellowish eyes that chilled the kyrie's blood. Neckless, the bulette's head jutted out from beneath its collar of armor, ending in the ferocious, pointed jaw that resembled nothing so much as that of a giant snapping turtle.

  The tanglenet continued to weave around the bulette, immobilizing the creature's head, binding its armored, blue-green body and limbs ever more tightly. Off to the side, the minotaur twitched in his death throes. His blood drenched the desert ground, staining it red.

  Bird-Spirit knew that the voracious bulette attacked and consumed anything in its territory, burrowing underground when it wanted to rest, breaking to the surface when it detected vibrations that meant new prey was nearby. No person or creature stayed in the locality of a bulette by choice.

  Like all kyrie, Bird-Spirit possessed magical knowledge from the ancient world, a body of knowledge that predated by centuries the magic of the three moons and included the ability to communicate with any animal. Despite misgivings about the bulette, the bold kyrie decided to try to talk to the monster.

  "I mean you no harm," Bird-Spirit said, speaking in the universal animal tongue. "I wish to speak with you about why I am here-and about the minotaurs who are swarming over this island."

  The creature continued to stare at Bird-Spirit in silence. Finally it responded.

  "I do not care about you or your petty interests. My interests concern keeping my stomach full. Those stupid bull-men who deny their animal heritage and hold themselves above us are of no concern to me."

  Not only was the bulette malicious but it was also thickheaded, thought Bird-Spirit.

  "Right now I would think that one additional interest you might have would be to see that the wound on your back is tended to." Bird-Spirit had noticed that a green slime, probably the bulette's blood, was oozing steadily from the wound inflicted by the minotaur. "With my healing skills, I will take care of the wound if you will simply hear me out."

  Suspiciously the bulette answered, "Although I am your prisoner, you would find it hard to kill me, kyrie. Even so, it would appear I have few alternatives."

  "Minotaurs from Mithas have established an outpost on this island. As you must know, the bull-men either exterminate or subjugate all who stand in their way. This does not bode well for you or any of the other creatures on Karthay." Bird-Spirit paused to make sure the bulette was listening.

  "We kyrie have our own reasons for wanting the minotaurs off Karthay as soon as possible, but we are too few to overwhelm them. Only a small group of kyrie warriors, a handful of humans, a dwarf, and an elf make up our company. We would benefit greatly if a skilled general such as yourself, and those animals you chose to command, fought at our side."

  Bird-Spirit calculated that an appeal to the bulette's inflated opinion of itself would be useful. He was right. If a great, hulking, beady-eyed monster could be said to puff up with pride, the bulette did.

  However, the monster almost immediately reverted to its thickheaded posture. "I need neither kyrie nor anyone else to destroy the minotaurs. If I cared to do such a thing, I would do it myself, slowly, one by one, over a period of time. Why should I join with you?"

  Bird-Spirit had no doubt that the bulette was probably right. Left to its own devices, it could eliminate the minotaurs on its own, given enough time. But Cloudreaver, Caramon, and the others couldn't wait for that eventuality.

  "If you ally yourself with us, we promise to cede this island to you and the other animals as your domain for the next one thousand years. As the leader in battle, you no doubt would be recognized as the supreme chief of the island," Bird-Spirit added. He couldn't read the effect of his appeal in the bulette's cold, blank eyes. "And then there is the matter of your wound, which through magic I am able to heal."

  The bulette remained impassive. Bird-Spirit waited patiently. The wound continued to sec
rete green slime.

  "My injury first," the monster finally said. "Then we can discuss who might join us in a battle against the minotaurs.

  The bull-men have no friends among the creatures on this island. Of course," it seemed to chuckle, "neither do I."

  In order to dress the bulette's wound, Bird-Spirit had to cut the creature free from the tanglenet first, slashing the chokeweed near the base of its stem, then dissecting the tendrils in as many places as possible. Later he used some of the pieces to make a sling to hold the monster so he could carry it back to their campsite.

  It took all of Bird-Spirit's strength to lift and transport the huge creature. Caramon, Tanis, Sturm, Flint, and the rest looked on in horror as the kyrie deposited the land shark in their midst just after dusk. Although the creature appeared docile, it lumbered sullenly to the edge of the camp and stared out into the desert distrustfully.

  Cloudreaver greeted Bird-Spirit when he saw him return with the land shark. The two kyrie stood apart and talked together briefly in their own language. Then, beaming, Cloudreaver brought his friend forward to join the others.

  "What good is such a creature to us?" asked Caramon.

  "The minotaur camp is well defended. We are greatly outnumbered. We need allies wherever we can find them," Cloudreaver explained. "There is no more fearless fighter than a bulette. According to Bird-Spirit, this one has promised to summon other land creatures to come to our aid and has told us as well about a mountain lair of rocs that he feels can also be entreated to join our cause. I will send Star Twin to communicate with the rocs and seek their help."

  "Rocs!" Flint exclaimed. Although Flint was a hill dwarf, not a mountain dwarf, he was still well versed in the reputation of these huge birds of prey, which resembled overgrown eagles, with wingspans of up to one hundred and twenty feet. Mountain dwarves who mined in remote regions sometimes were attacked by rocs defending their nests.

  "There never was a roc who helped a dwarf, or vice versa," Flint said vehemently.

  Caramon looked pleadingly at Tanis, who interceded to calm the dwarf. "Cloudreaver is right-we need help. If Bird-Spirit can capture a bulette, then perhaps Star Twin can tame the rocs for us." Tanis looked at the half-ogre, who as usual was standing not far from Flint. "Kirsig and I will do our best to keep the rocs out of your way and keep you out of theirs."

  Kirsig, who was taking the subject of rocs and dwarves very seriously, crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded emphatically.

  "When can we expect our unusual allies to join us?" asked Sturm. Since his rescue from the Pit of Doom, the Solamnic had come to have a deep respect for the kyrie and saw no reason to question the wisdom of their unorthodox plan.

  Bird-Spirit cocked his head in the direction of the bulette, appearing to listen for a few moments. "The message has gone out. The morning should bring new friends. The best thing to do is wait. We should rest until then."

  Following his own advice, the kyrie squatted down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep almost immediately. Or at least he seemed to. After a minute, Bird-Spirit opened one eye. "Wake me to stand guard if necessary," he added before closing his eyes again.

  "I rested today while you scouted," Yuril stated. "I'll take first shift and wake someone when I get tired."

  Yuril scooped up a blanket from the ground and strode over to sit against a large tree at the edge of the forest cover where they had made camp. The others began moving off to find a comfortable place to sleep. Several kyrie and the rest of the sailors from the Castor had already begun to bed down.

  "I, uh, have to sharpen my sword and get my other weapons ready for tomorrow," Caramon mumbled to no one in particular. "I guess I'll go keep Yuril company."

  Sturm and Tanis exchanged looks. "Just remember that one of you is supposed to be standing watch," Tanis called out after him.

  In truth, Caramon had been preoccupied with the whereabouts of his twin ever since Raistlin had disappeared earlier in the day. He didn't think he could fall asleep even if he tried. Yuril, however, proved to be a soothing presence.

  Flint also slept, but not well. His dreams were filled with the rustlings and movements of great wings swooping down on him. Kirsig, who sat up to keep watch over the dwarf, had to pull the blanket he had thrown off back up around the old dwarf's neck several times.

  When he finally woke the next morning, Flint saw that the sounds disturbing his sleep had been real, only they were produced by curious land animals rather than denizens of the air.

  On the southwestern edge of the campsite stood the bulette. Behind it, in the early dawn light, the desert ground appeared to surge and buckle. Flint looked closer. "Great Reorx!" he exclaimed. Dozens of giant, low-slung insects, their backs covered by hard, black, jointed shells, their heads ending in a pair of small but effective-looking mandibles, covered the desert floor.

  "Horax."

  "What?" Flint asked the kyrie who had come up next to him.

  "They live underground and grow to be almost as long as we are tall. They attack in packs," the kyrie explained. "Luckily I've never had the misfortune to run into them. I've heard they crush the life out of you with their curved pincers."

  Seeing Flint's jaw drop, the kyrie added, "Don't worry. They're taking orders from the bulette, and the bulette's on our side-for the time being."

  "Their pincers are powerful, all right," piped up Kirsig, who had joined them. The half-ogre seemed to have a useful store of information about any given subject. "My daddy said they could really be a nuisance if they got into underground tunnels you were using. They don't much like sunlight, usually. I trust they can put up with it for a few hours during the attack."

  All of the companions, the kyrie, and the sailors had risen now and were staring at the strange horde of animals-the bulette, the packs of horax, and in the rear, odd rock formations that shifted and moved. Flint rubbed his eyes wonderingly.

  "Kirsig," he whispered, tugging on the half-ogre's sleeve. Flint pointed beyond the horax.

  The reddish-brown rocks had shifted again, revealing themselves to be not inanimate stones but the knobby hide of a gigantic reptile. Hint gauged the monstrous serpentine creature to be nearly two hundred feet from the end of its long, whiplike tail to the tip of its pointed, fanged snout. The behemoth appeared to rest flat on the ground, its flipperlike feet splayed out on either side of its scaly body.

  What Flint had taken for caverns in the rock were actually the creature's eye sockets, which were recessed so deeply you couldn't glimpse its eyes. The monster idly lashed its tail across the ground, flattening several rock outcroppings.

  "The greater hatori, and a very ancient one by the size of it," whispered Kirsig. "It can't have had much to eat on this island over the past decades, and a hungry hatori is a hungry fighter, as my daddy always used to say."

  The bulette glared first at the kyrie and their friends, then out over the army it had assembled. While none of these killer animals had any love for each other, they had even less for the minotaurs, who were known in the desert world as wanton, arrogant bullies.

  The bulette had communicated the arrangement proposed by Bird-Spirit and Cloudreaver. The animals would fight together for one day, and the kyrie would cede desolate Karthay to them for one thousand years. Because of the presence of Kit, and presumably Raistlin, in the ruined city, the creatures were under strict orders not to harm any humans or other races, only minotaurs. These they could kill according to their whim.

  A sudden gust of wind nearly knocked Flint down. The wind continued gusting, blowing blankets and packs around the campsite. With a sinking feeling, Flint looked up. Just overhead hovered four rocs, two adults and two smaller ones, probably their adolescent offspring. Sharp black eyes regarded the assembled company. With their muscular bodies, sleek, bulletlike heads, and immense wingspans, each roc was as big as a vallenwood. Their glossy brown and yellow plumage and strong, curved beaks shone in the rays of the rising sun.

  Toth-Ur paced rest
lessly in front of his tent. The afternoon sun beat down on him, matting his glossy black fur with perspiration. The Nightmaster and his retinue had departed safely for the volcano's summit. Apparently everything was in order, but uneasiness dogged Toth-Ur's steps. Zedhar hadn't returned from his scouting mission the previous day. The commander debated sending out a search party for him, but with his troops' numbers already diminished by the contingent that accompanied the Nightmaster, Toth-Ur was reluctant to do so. The high shaman had warned him to be vigilant today… especially today.

  His tent was pitched near the western perimeter of the ruined city of Karthay, near a crumbled parapet. Hands on his haunches, Toth-Ur surveyed the barren, desolate landscape. A few soldiers stood off to one side, ready to do his bidding.

  Suddenly a giant shape burst from the ground, not ten feet in front of the commander's tent, springing straight up into the air, then coming down heavily on a minotaur soldier's back. A quick thrust of its jaw snapped the bull-man's neck.

  Before the other soldiers had time to do much more than unsheath their swords, one horax after another was streaming out of the hole made by the bulette. Everywhere the astonished Toth-Ur looked, strange, horrible animals were pouring out of holes in the ground and attacking his small army from all directions.

  The minotaurs couldn't stand their ground, for the savage animal force had attacked in their midst. Some died on the spot. Others stood and fought, though swords and spears merely glanced off the insectoids' chitinous shells. Others retreated to better fighting positions.

  The bulette was on a rampage, leaping and smashing and snapping minotaurs with impunity.

  The packs of horax were blood-crazed. It took two or three of the creatures to overwhelm a single minotaur. One would fasten its mandibles around each leg just above a hoof, crushing the bones. A third horax would jab the minotaur's soft body parts after the soldier fell to the ground. Then all would stop and devour the victim.

  To the south approached an even worse nightmare. The very desert seemed to be on the move against the minotaurs. The greater hatori had emerged and was slithering backward toward a contingent of minotaurs bravely standing their ground. It whipped its bony tail back and forth, knocking down a half-dozen soldiers at a blow, mercilessly mashing them into the ground.