A Deadly Dance

by E. V. Greig

  “A tent, once I have attached the side panels. It will keep us dry should it rain during the night.” He pointed to the centre of the clearing. “Can you dig a pit for the fire please? Line it with stones: they will keep the embers from setting the area beneath them ablaze.”

  They worked silently for a time. Seranor, picketed nearby, nibbled at the leaves on a patch of bramble. Bandhir had scattered a handful of oats and salt on the ground for her, and given her water from his flask out of a fold in his cloak. The mare’s thoughts remained closed to Kaiwan, who supposed that Alnaiean horses were very different to those of Ullensia.

  Bandhir straightened up from fixing the last of the tent pegs. He rolled out a large thin blanket and set his bedroll down on top of it. Then he placed Seranor’s saddle and bridle next to that, along with his traveller’s chest. “There is but one bedroll, I am afraid. May I borrow your cloak to add to my own that I may keep warm tonight, sorceress?”

  “But will the bedroll not be warm enough?”

  He laughed. “The bedroll is for you – I would not presume to take it, nor could I possibly expect you to share with me. That would be very wrong of me indeed.”

  “Are you certain? I do not wish to impose upon you, Efrym.”

  “Positive, sorceress, thank you all the same. Now come: let us lay the fire and prepare our supper!”

  Kaiwan reckoned the meal very tasty indeed: Bandhir had trapped a hare the day before and roasted it on a spit. He had glazed it in a mixture of crushed wild garlic and other herbs. There was still plenty of meat left on the carcass. They shared it together, picking off small fragments with their fingers, and sipping on a flask of red wine that had been in the chest.

  By the end of supper, Kaiwan was a little light headed. “I am dizzy!” She giggled despite herself.

  “The wine has gone to your head, sorceress. You should sleep. I shall help you to bed.”

  “I am sorry, Efrym. I do not mean to be so very troubling of you.”

  He shook his head and carefully put out the fire before helping her up and guiding her into the tent. “I am not troubled, for I enjoy your company.”

  “You are very kind to me, Efrym. And gentle – you are a very gentle person...!”

  Bandhir eyed her bruised shoulders and temple as he tucked her into the blankets. “Someone has been far too rough with you, little maid! The ones who attacked you did this, I suppose?”

  “Mmmnn...no. They dragged me by my arms...punched my stomach...!”

  “Then who did this?”

  She yawned, already half-asleep. “Hugo...!”

  “I like this Hugo less the more that you speak of him.” No reply appeared to be forthcoming. “Rest then, little maid: I will keep sentry over you.”

  He turned the lantern down to its lowest point and wrapped himself up in the cloaks before he sat down to rest. As ever, he was not asleep: an immortal being such as he could do quite well on meditation alone. Although, of course, loyal Seranor would be aware of any approaching threats long before he himself would.

  ∞∞∞

  Misericord shivered. Mid spring, mayhap it may be, but the mountains are merciless!

  For of course that was clearly the cause of his discomfort. He was quite capable of carrying out the Lady’s command: quite capable indeed. Bloodthirsty bears and other brutish beasts did not bother him. Deep darkness did not daunt him either. No, the cruel cut of the cold night air made him shiver and shudder so. Aye and that is all.

  An owl screeched then. Its shadow briefly haunted over the road before him and then was gone, on even more silent wings than those of the night bird itself. The witchfinder froze rigid to the spot. His heart began to race, and a cold terror seized him. It cannot be the cold that causes me to shiver so: I cannot feel such things! I...am...afraid...!

  Something landed softly behind him: he heard it, sensed its presence, and yet could not move. It is not the cruel cut of the cold night air for I cannot feel such things! They took my skin...they took my skin...they took my skin...!

  There was a low sound: moaning and sighing all at once. A claw passed before his face and gripped his silver mask: ripping it loose and hurling it aside. Misericord might have screamed then, but his voice too was frozen. My Lady, I have failed you!

  The thought bit at him briefly. It stung sharper than any blade, for of course no skin: no pain, but to let the Lady down in his endeavour! It is unbearable, unthinkable, unacceptable...!

  He fought to move, to speak, but it was to no avail. The creature pulled him close to its foul form: reeking of the unnatural places beyond clean graves. From the corner of his eye, Misericord could see the top of its head. This means that its foul fangs are feasting on my fluids. He began to feel faint. This vandreth is draining me to death, drinking me dry, dooming me...is there another word to pair with dooming? Glooming...no...That does not fit...it does not flow...Lady...!

  ∞∞∞

  Bandhir stared up at the night sky: familiarising himself with the constellations of this new world. Some of the creatures that dwelt upon it were indeed strange. A few moments earlier, he had spied a hulking, bat winged form swoop past. There had been a familiar figure clutched in its talons. Ah, so you sent your pet witchfinder after me then, Naomi. Was he to bring me a message, or were you concerned for the little maid’s fate? He is dead either way, by the looks of things.

  “Efrym – I sensed the presence of some malign creature.” Kaiwan was awake, and utterly sober. “The restless ones are close!”

  “Something did fly past, but it has gone now.”

  She shook her head. “No. There are others. I can sense them.”

  He stood and drew his falchion. “That is a useful skill indeed, sorceress. Perhaps we should go.”

  “You shall go nowhere until we have received our tribute from you!”

  Bandhir spun around and saw three gaunt forms crawling under the rear edge of the tent. “Look out behind you, sorceress!”

  Kaiwan leapt up and turned to face the grinning restless ones. “Be still forever!”

  There was a flash of white light, and the intruders collapsed; merely empty corpses at her feet. Bandhir whistled softly. “Perhaps it is the restless ones that should be careful, sorceress!”

  She shuddered. “I – I have never done that before. I am glad that it worked. Efrym, we should go now. There will be more of the restless ones, that much is certain.”

  “Very well, we shall strike camp at once. Can you see to Seranor, please?”

  “Yes of course.” Kaiwan picked up the saddle and bridle, and walked over to the pale mare. She checked her hooves carefully for stones before tacking her up. Bandhir was by now rolling up the tent and storing it back in his traveller’s chest. “We should go west at the next fork in the road. That way will lead us into Ullensia by way of the grelnathi territories. It is said to be the safest path.”

  “Grelnathir are considered to be safe then, sorceress?”

  “Of course: they are a kind and peaceful people. The only other route is through the northern borders, and that is close to the edge of the sylvanthi kingdom. We ought to stay well away from there, Efrym. They would see us as slaves.”

  “I suspect that I would not get along too well with these sylvanthir. Very well: we shall go by the grelnathi territories then.” He helped her up before him once more. “Ullensia is your homeland, yes?”

  “Yes: my parents were from there, although they left it before I was born. I grew up in the Vale of Ryln after they died. I have never been to Ullensia before, but my guardians taught me the language and told me of the customs of my people.”

  “These guardians: who were they? You mentioned one of them before, I think.”

  “Slo’annathorys. He is a sylvanth who has rejected his own kind. The wyrm who attacked the Vale snatched him, and so his retainers, Ruiryk and Banor have gone to search for him: they know where the wyrm lairs. His wife Coorine perished in the attack, but rose as a nhynquara. She hunts her own
child, Althanor. I hope that he will be safe at Briersburge.”

  “The Lady Naomi would never permit harm to befall a child. She is a goodly woman, in that regard at least.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It is nothing, sorceress. Please: tell me more of your companions.”

  “There were two others: a dryanthi priestess named Lonrari and her retainer Luath, who is a par’anthi bard of great skill. Luath witnessed Lonrari be taken away by her Goddess during the attack on the Vale. I suppose it to be a sign that her task is completed now.”

  “And what task is that, sorceress?”

  Kaiwan tensed against him. “I am no good at keeping secrets, it would seem!”

  “That is merely the sign of an honest nature, sorceress. It is an honourable quality to have.” He tightened his arm just a little about her waist and smiled to himself as she quivered slightly. Naomi had never been so pliant!

  “May I please not speak of it further? I was always told that I should tell no one.” Bad enough that I have already told Hugo, and that he then told Lady Naomi!

  Pushing her would get him nowhere. “But of course, sorceress; I did not mean to pry!”

  “Oh no – I was not accusing you of such an action! It is only that I gave my word not to speak of it. I am sorry, Efrym.” I am not about to make the same error in judgement twice running! I trusted Hugo, and he told others - why, he even acted as though I were wrong to want to submit myself to my fate! As if I would ever refuse to do what is my duty in life!

  “Very well, sorceress: I shall not ask any further. But please – do not hesitate to inform me as to how I may aid you in whatever mysterious business that it is you are involved in.”

  “Oh, Efrym, you are truly kind!” He felt her relax against him. “Thank you for being so very understanding of my situation.”

  “Only a fool would presume to meddle uninvited in the affairs of those who are greater than him.”

  “I am not great: I am merely - oh, I wish that I could explain it! Please, do not think of me as great. I am nothing of the sort.”

  “You are very humble, sorceress. That is another fine quality to possess.”

  “And you are too generous to me! Still, I confess that it is very pleasant to be spoken to in such a way.”

  “I am most pleased that this is so, sorceress.”

  ∞∞∞

  Lonrari awoke to the sound of agonised howling. She slipped out of her chamber and found Anthalia cowering in the hallway. The awful sound continued: it was coming from downstairs. “What is that noise?”

  Anthalia ran to her. “Lonrari! You have to do something: they will kill him!”

  “What are you talking about, child?”

  “Korius – he was attacked on his way home! They forced their way into the house! Lonrari, they are torturing him!” The young esthanth sobbed.

  “Go in there, Anthalia,” Lonrari pushed the child behind her. “Lock the door behind you and do not open it! Do not utter a sound, no matter what happens!” She waited until the door locked. Then she raced down the stairs.

  Korius lay chained to the dining table with a cold iron shackle criss-crossed over his naked torso: burning his pale skin. There were a dozen male sylvanthir gathered about him. All held cold iron blades. They were slicing at the helpless Ves’Neryn almost casually. “You ought not to have interrupted our game tonight, shade. That slave would have made fine sport for another hour at least!”

  “You were killing her!” Korius spat. “Cowards”

  “It was not your business, shade. We shall still finish her off anyhow, once we have dispatched with you. She is a slave after all. There is nowhere that she can hide.”

  At the far side of the chamber, Lonrari picked up Korius’ long sword from where it lay and crept forward. She dispatched two of the assailants before they even knew what was happening. A third tried to parry, but failed. Lonrari stepped over his corpse to attack the fourth. He managed to block her attack. “Get her!”

  Two of the others sprang at her. Lonrari spun and stabbed one in the stomach and sliced the other’s throat. Leaping high into the air, she kicked another in the face hard enough to send him tumbling backwards. As she landed, the one that had managed to block her earlier attack caught hold of her by the hair. He grabbed her sword hand and twisted it sharply behind her. Lonrari hissed as she dropped the weapon. “Isthylk!”

  Her assailant loosed her hair to grab and twist her other arm. “Why, ‘tis a dryanth! We will have fun with you, I think.”

  “Let her go, you coward! She is known to the king – he will note her death!” Korius struggled to free himself from the chain.

  “And what makes you think that we will kill her? Come, friends! Let us pause in our game and attend to this fresh treasure. Korius is not going anywhere, after all.”

  The surviving intruders gather around Lonrari: blocking Korius’ view. “She has killed five of our number already. She must pay for that.”

  “Agreed – take her eyes, ears and tongue.”

  “No – let us enjoy her first. Then we shall take the rest of our payment.”

  Korius heard cloth tear and then the dryanth screamed indignantly. “Vesqua grant me the power to stop this now!” At his words, every fire in the house went out: the candles guttered, and the coals became dark. Korius grinned as he felt the Goddess answer his prayer. The shadows engulfed him like a second skin as he melted through the shackle despite it being of cold iron. “Thank you, Lady! Now we shall play a different sort of game, you filth!”

  “I reckon the shade has slipped his chains! Be wary – where is he?”

  “I do not know: I cannot see in this pitch!”

  “Oh, but I can!” Korius sprang from the dark of the air itself, and snapped the ringleader’s neck. “There are six of you left, now, by the way.”

  “Urggh...!”

  “No...!”

  “Don’t...!”

  “And then there were three. Who is next?”

  Lonrari darted past him with his sword. “This one looks ready enough!”

  “Gurghk...!”

  “Wildheart! They are mine to kill; I am saving you from them!”

  “Hurry along then, but I seem to be well ahead of you in this so far. Catch!”

  “Ah, a still beating heart: what a lovely gift, Wildheart, thank you.”

  “You may dispatch the last two, if it bothers you so very much, Korius.”

  “You are both mad – argghh!”

  “Mercy, please: spare me...!”

  The shadows faded back into their rightful places, and the fires relit. Korius and Lonrari exchanged glances where they stood amongst the corpses.

  “Put that blade down now, Wildheart.” He smirked at her. “You have blood on your nose! It’s most endearing looking.”

  She hurled the sword at him blade first, cursing as he caught it. “Dolt!”

  “What – no praise for my heroism?”

  Lonrari snorted and stalked back upstairs. “You frightened Anthalia with your nonsense! Why didn’t you break loose and deal with them sooner?”

  “You try thinking clearly when you’re being tortured!” Korius ran after her and grabbed her arm. “So thank you for the distraction, I suppose.”

  “You are welcome.” She pulled away from him. “I am going back to bed.”

  “Do you wish me to join you?”

  “No!”

  Chapter Four

  “Still no word from Misericord?” Gyrfalcon yawned and stretched as he emerged from the guardhouse.

  Elharan shook his head. “She’s worried sick about him. It’s been a month.”

  “He should’ve sent word by now!”

  Tik-Tik chirped. “Great Frog Spirit says we should go and find him!”

  The par’dath scowled. “For once I think I agree with the Great Frog Spirit!” He caught Tik-Tik one handed as the squirrel-cat fell off his shoulder in shock. “Something’s wrong, Elharan.”

 
; They looked up to where Naomi was pacing the battlements: her face pale and drawn. Her faithful dog padded anxiously behind her, and she cradled Spellsnitcher to her chest. The cat looked bored.

  “Lady Naomi!” A page ran up to her and held out a folded piece of parchment. “Please mistress – this was just delivered by coach to the main gate!”