The Eye of the Hunter

by Dennis L McKiernan

  Riatha had reached the high rim of the sheer-walled basin when the full storm fell upon her, the wind howling, snow hurtling horizontally. The sparse pines yielded little shelter, and the Elfess shielded her face and turned away from the arena below and made her way outward among the trees, pressing toward a nearby jumble of boulders up slope. In the shelter of the rock she found a crevice just wide enough to admit her, and she crawled within to a place where she could sit with her back to the stone. And as the wind shrieked all about, Riatha prayed that Faeril was not caught out in this blizzard, but instead had reached the safety of the monastery; the noontide had just passed, and if the way to the cloister were not too difficult, Riatha gauged the damman should even now be within those sheltering walls. But if the way were hard…Oh, Adon, let her be safe.

  Struggling, the Elfess sought to calm her fears. After a while she managed to slip into the meditative state which Elvenkind substitutes for sleep.

  * * *

  Night was falling when the storm blew itself out. Riatha crawled forth from her tiny refuge and made her way through the new fall to the brow of the circular pit, arriving just as torch-bearing Spaunen far beneath began emerging from their splits and cracks and crevices. Taking care not to cause snow to cascade down, Riatha lay on her stomach and watched as the Rûpt streamed from the holes to gather in the center. And even as she looked upon them assembling, suddenly she knew when to come at Stoke and slay him.

  She watched the Foul Folk milling below, her heart pounding in excitement at her abrupt illumination. She could do it alone, if necessary, search him out and slay him, but with her comrades at her side the outcome seemed more certain. Hurry, Faeril. Bring them to me, for now I know the way.

  Again she wondered at Faeril’s success at reaching the monastery. Even were she storm delayed, likely she is on her way once more, now that the blizzard is gone.

  Then dark thoughts intruded. She could be injured, even dead; Rûpt may have come upon her. —Nay! Not Rûpt, for she went in the daytide.

  The Elfess shook her head to clear these ominous musings. Fie! for all I know, she could be safely holed up in some rock shelter, as was I, and if so, she may even be asleep. No matter, for if she is, she will awaken to go onward. And the Rûpt are here below; surely she is beyond their rangings this darktide.

  As they had done the previous night, the Spaunen divided into two hunting parties, leaving a third group behind to stand ward on the bolt-hole. One party headed northward up the canyon, the other southward. The remainder trooped into a single passage in the wall opposite, into the wall where Riatha deemed Stoke was holed up.

  When all were well beyond sight, Riatha cautiously began clearing away the snow from where she lay on the brim, once more providing a place from which to observe below without fear of causing a cascade of white to betray her. As she worked, the wind yet blew to the north; overhead, a solid cloud cover slid across the skies, obscuring all. Now and again the land would tremble, snow showering down from trees and from the walls of the canyon, and Riatha would pause to see if Rûpt came forth from the holes below to look about—but they never did.

  Just as she finished clearing the landing, her keen Elven hearing heard the baying of Vulgs, coming down from the north, along the top of the canyon wall, on the hunt. She cocked her head and listened, straining to hear, for the wind blew from behind her, bearing the sound away. Of a sudden she realized, Adon! ’Tis me they hunt, for the wind carries my scent unto them!

  Riatha leapt to her feet. Which way?

  Suddenly the choice was taken from her, for the wind stilled momentarily and Vulg howls mingled with yawls of Spaunen burst upon her full. And she could see their torch-light and hear them running, iron-shod boot and clawed paws slamming into the snow.

  Whirling, Riatha fled southward along the rim, but as fleet as she was, she knew that she could not long outrun the pursuit. And even as she realized this, the howls behind her broke into a chorus. Adon, they see me! I am fordone!

  On she sped, howling creatures swiftly closing the gap, overhauling her with every stride. And at the very moment Riatha decided to make a stand, she saw—

  The snow bridge! Allfather, let it serve my need!

  She skidded to a halt at the rim even as ravening beasts thundered toward her. Taking a deep breath and marshalling all her discipline, all her training, Riatha ran lightly across the span, running as if she were trying to keep from touching the snow, her feet but barely in contact ere they were gone onward.

  Behind, baying Vulgs raced on her track, and as Riatha gained the far side, the lead Vulg bounded onto the span and hurtled toward her—I am lost!—a second Vulg pounding onto the span after.

  Whipping her sword from its backslung scabbard, Riatha braced herself for the onslaught…and in that moment the span collapsed, unable to bear the weight of both Vulgs, the beast in the rear wailing as it plummeted downward, the creature in the lead, its front claws digging into the stone of the rim, rear claws scrabbling at the vertical wall, struggling to climb onto the plateau.

  Riatha stepped forward and slammed the beast in the muzzle with the flat of her blade, jarring the slavering monster backwards off the rim to fall yawling, to plunge some three hundred feet down to its death.

  On the rim opposite, five more Vulgs ravened, a canyon between them and their quarry.

  Sssshhh…A black-shafted arrow sissed past her face, and howling, Rucha and Loka pounded nigh.

  Riatha whirled again and ran southward, angling outward into the sparse pines, running for the shadows within.

  More arrows hissed past, whispering of death in their flight. Yet none struck Riatha, and onward she plunged, fleeing southward into the forest beyond. She could see torch-light flickering among the trees and hear the Rûpt shouting in victory, as south along the opposite rim they ran, for they knew that the walls diminished and soon she would be out in the valley before them, where they would run her down. Ahead of the clamoring Rûpt sped the Vulgs, their savage howls ululating among the stone of the mountains.

  When Riatha was certain that they could no longer see her, she stopped and listened as the pursuit hurled on southward. The Elfess then doubled back, racing again for the brow of the steep-walled arena. Overhead, rifts could be seen in the cast. Adon, let it stay dark. Let it stay dark. Nearly the entire night lies before me, and I have no hope of outrunning the hunters throughout the full darktide, no hope of running until the light of dawn comes to my rescue. Instead I must outwit them, and I need moonless darkness to hide me until I am safe.

  Riatha came to the rim. In the distance behind, she could hear the far-off baying of the hunt.

  Even though pursued, she stopped and carefully scanned the wall and rim opposite, seeking certain refuge. At last she espied what she sought, and marking it well in her mind, she fled atop the eastern brow and toward the slot at the north entrance into the arena below, toward the gap where stood a large pine on the opposite side.

  Reaching her goal, she unhooked her grapnel and line, and flung it across the width of the canyon, the tines hooking into a limb some fifty feet away. Behind, howls grew louder, the Spaunen drawing nigh, having rounded the end of the canyon south. Taking up all the slack, Riatha leapt from the brink and swung across to the far wall. She poised her legs before her to take the shock, yet she slammed hard into the stone, knocking the wind from her. Even so, she managed to hang on, and hand over hand she clambered up to the lip above.

  Ululating yawls came echoing through the pines, and still the riven clouds above continued to cleave apart, moonlight now and again glancing through. Riatha flipped loose the grapnel and swiftly coiled the rope. Out into the snow she ran, until she came unto the wide track of the Spaunen, the track they had made when they had first come upon her.

  Following this path, south fled Riatha, mingling her steps with theirs. She did not believe that her scent would be lost in theirs, for her spoor was too fresh. Yet it was vital for her to come once more unto her own trace,
closing the circle.

  Up the vale came the hunters, running among the pines on the plateau opposite, closing the distance to the canyon arena, yowls and yawls growing louder.

  At last Riatha closed the circle, and now she ran to a bent tree on the brim and dashed on past, joining the track again. Backtrailing in her own footsteps, she returned to the tree and, snaking her line about the trunk and casting both ends beyond the lip so that a loose double line dangled down the wall, over the edge she went, rappelling some forty feet or so, down to the mouth of a cavern. And just as she swung into the dark opening, the Moon broke through the clouds. Onto the rim opposite howled the hunters, racing along her distant trace.

  Riatha waited until the next cloud drifted across the face of the Moon, then snaked her rope down and in. There. Let them find me now, if they can, hiding in their very own caves.

  A time passed, the Moon gliding across the sky, and Riatha heard loping footsteps on the rim above her, running past. Cautiously, she peered out the mouth of the cavern. At the south entrance, Vulgs sniffed the snow, there where the bridge once had spanned the gap. Rûpt came, shouting, pointing across.

  Well and good! They now run in circles. Let them do so till dawn.

  The Vulgs returned to the rim above her, snuffling in the tracks.

  More time passed. Of a sudden, yawls cried out, Vulgs howling on a trail. Ai, they have now found my steps from the shelter where I waited out the storm. The howls grew fainter as the beasts raced away. ’Twill be nought but another dead end for them. That track merely leads up slope a distance. Hah! Mayhap they will chase phantom footsteps up the mountain, up to—

  Suddenly a chill ran up Riatha’s spine. For up that slope was where Faeril had gone, and if those five Vulgs ran far enough…Adon, let them not stumble upon her tracks; keep them from the monastery.

  A deep foreboding fell upon Riatha’s heart, while above, Rûpt split their forces, half to stay on this rim, half to cross to the other, each to hunt the elusive intruder.

  By reflected moonlight Riatha explored the extent of her cavern. Some five feet high and perhaps eight feet wide at the mouth, swiftly it narrowed down to a thin crevice some twenty feet back. Mayhap a Waerling could get through such, but not I.

  She returned to her watch, sliding slowly, cautiously on her stomach to peer out into the arena below and at the brim above, taking care that her golden hair was well hidden beneath her cloak hood, and that her white face was completely scarf-covered but for a narrow slit to peer through, for she knew that watchful eyes opposite might otherwise espy her in the gloom.

  Time passed, and still the Rûpt searched the rims above, cursing at one another, or so it sounded, raging to find the stranger who had just vanished before them.

  Mayhap they have never before hunted fox. Riatha smiled. Certainly not this vixen.

  * * *

  As before, some two hours ere dawn, hunters returned to the arena below. This time, though, none had captured any game. Yet they dragged the dead Vulgs from the south canyon entrance, the Vulgs that had fallen from the collapsed snow bridge. These they butchered for food, the living Vulgs just as eager to get at this meat as at any other.

  And once again a shadowy figure lurked in a cavern opposite, an archway well marked by Riatha.

  An hour or so later, the Spaunen emerged from the eastern wall and spread out among the splits and cracks and caves ’round about. Riatha counted the foe: still there were some twenty-seven Rucha and Loka, but only six Vulgs. Two Vulgs fell at the bridge, and five more ran up slope following a false trail, and six I number below. That would account for all. If the five have not yet returned, may the Ban find them running this way!

  Another hour passed, and in the last few moments ere dawn crept over the mountains, a single Vulg, somewhat favoring a foreleg, came racing into the pit through the north canyon and hobbled into the cavern below where Stoke had stood. Could this be one of the five? If so, then four have not returned. Mayhap they encountered more than they bargained for.

  Riatha remained in the cavern until full day fell upon the land. The other four Vulgs were still unaccounted for. May they all have perished!

  She surveyed the wall above, and free-climbed to the rim. Spaunen tracks tramped down the snow. Moving cautiously to stay within their beat, Riatha trekked through the woods, verifying that the Vulgs had indeed gone up the slope, the way that Faeril had fared. Riatha’s heart thudded in apprehension. Let her be safe. Let them all be safe.

  Once again a chill wind blew from the south, and above the skies fell drab with cloud cover. Cast, thou dost herald another storm being borne on the wings of the wind.

  Riatha hiked back along the canyon rim, heading north, returning to the place where she had built the fire yester. Her water was depleted and she needed to refill the skin. Too, she needed to relieve herself and did not wish to leave fresh sign. Let them think this vixen long gone and not yet lurking about.

  After replenishing her water, the Elfess spent the day foraging for pine nuts, sweeping away her tracks with a pine bough broom, and resting in the stone shelter where she had made the fire, wishing to keep her scent to a minimum near the canyon rim. She had decided to wait one more night for her companions to return, and if they did not arrive on the morrow, she would go after Stoke alone.

  In mid-afternoon, again she buried all evidence of her stay and started back along the Spaunen track for the rim high above the circular pit. Striding, now and again she sounded a chrk as would an arctic ptarmigan.

  As she drew nigh the rim of the canyon, she heard a chrk in response; and her face broke into a wide grin, and her legs broke into a run.

  CHAPTER 19

  Reunion

  Early Spring, 5E988

  [The Present]

  Wiping the tears from his eyes, Gwylly reached out and took Faeril’s hand in his own. “Weep not, my dammia. Surely Riatha will have found a way to thwart the maggot-folk.” In spite of his words, Gwylly’s heart thudded in apprehension, for he did not see how anyone could escape Vulgs and Rûcks combined. Yet wait! We did so just three nights past—Has it been only three nights? Seems as if we climbed up that cliff years agone.

  Urus looked up from where he knelt next to the track.

  “These are muddled and run both ways. And I do not see Riatha’s prints at all.”

  “Likely lost under the steps of the Rûpt,” gritted Aravan, his features grim.

  Urus stood and began shedding his pack. “Aravan, you go north with Tomli—with Gwylly. Faeril and I will scout south.” The Baeran glanced at the grey cast above. “There is precious little more time to search ere nightfall—”

  Urus’s words were cut short by Aravan flinging up his hand for silence. The Elf cocked his head and listened. Then he faced north and sounded a chrk.

  Almost instantly came the answering chrk of a ptarmigan.

  Sudden understanding flooded Gwylly’s face, and he turned to Faeril. But the damman had started running northward, shedding her pack even as she went. Gwylly followed, dropping his pack as well. Urus looked on in puzzlement. Aravan glanced over at him, the Elf’s visage no longer grim but smiling instead. “The ptarmigan. ’Tis Riatha.” Aravan turned back. Chrk!

  Again it was immediately answered.

  Urus bowed his head and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and when he looked up again, his eyes glistered.

  In the distance, Faeril clutched a kneeling Riatha, the damman’s arms about the Elfess. “I thought you slain, Riatha. I thought you slain.” Tears ran freely down Faeril’s cheeks.

  Riatha’s embrace took in Gwylly, too. “Ah, my wee ones, there was a time when I, too, bethought myself slain. Yet I eluded them in the end.

  “And now, Gwylly, thou must tell me…” Riatha’s voice fell silent, for toward her came Aravan and one other, one whom she had thought gone from her life forever. Disengaging from the Waerlinga, she stood, her heart hammering. Slowly the Elfess walked toward the two, her silver-grey eyes glitte
ring with unshed tears. And then they came together, and Urus wrapped his huge arms about her and held onto her tightly, and she clutched him unto her, her face buried in his chest, softly weeping.

  And Aravan looked on in consternation.

  * * *

  Riatha pointed. “There. The dark hole shaped as a cathedral window. A hundred or so feet up from the floor. There is where Stoke has stood in the shadows two nights now.”

  The five were on the western brim of the circular pit, peering across to where Riatha pointed. “We can lower ourselves from above to come at him.”

  Gwylly looked up at the Elfess. “How far to a place where we can cross over?”

  “Half a league,” responded Riatha. The Elfess glanced at the sky. “But not today, Gwylly. Not tonight. We know not what lies within that hole—a simple cavern or a twisting maze—and there is not enough day left for exploring a maze, not enough light ere night falls and the others join him.

  “Yet I do have a plan. Heed, in the hour before dawn, Stoke sends the Spaunen away from him and unto splits and cracks and crevices spread wide. Then is Stoke most vulnerable, for should aught come at him in the daylight hours, his warders will be unable to answer his call, for, because of the Ban, they cannot leave the blackness of their holes to cross the arena below to come to him when Adon’s light is in the sky.

  “And so, this I advise: that we wait till morn, and at sunrise go in after Stoke, trapping the viper in its lair. Then will we have time enough to search for him, be his bolt-hole a complex labyrinth or a simple cave.”

  Urus growled. “I like not this waiting, yet I have no better plan.”

  Aravan nodded his agreement. “I would see this Man with the yellow eyes, and so I, too, would wish that it were now rather than on the morrow. But thy plan is sound, Dara, and I follow thee.”

  Gwylly spoke up. “What about tonight? Where do we go? Where do we stay?” The buccan gestured at the tracks of the maggot-folk. “I mean, we can’t just stay out in the open, at least not on this rim. Look, it’s plain that the Rūcks and such were here last night and they are likely to come again. And so, what’ll we do about them?”