Steel and Stone

by Ellen Porath

  Tanis suddenly dismounted, picked up a stone from the trail, and tossed it into the reddish grasses. A splash followed. “The left fork led to Haven?” he repeated.

  Kitiara stopped and looked around. “So she said.” Her gaze flicked from moss to grass to the narrow path. “So she said.”

  Grasses pressed in on each side. As dusk deepened, they heard something large splash into the water off to their left. Bats swooped and circled overhead, feasting on nighttime insects. A humming, like the sound of a thousand insects, thrummed through the marsh.

  “Have you ever done battle in a bog?” Tanis asked quietly. Ignoring the mosquitoes, he let the blanket fall from his head and felt for his sword.

  Kitiara shook her head. “You?”

  Tanis nodded. “Once. With Flint.”

  By some unspoken decision, they kept their tone offhand. “What lives here?” Kitiara asked.

  “Ever heard of the Jarak-Sinn?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “They’re a race of lizard people. Their venom is deadly,” Tanis said. With the night growing more dense around them, it seemed more appropriate to whisper. “And of course, there are ogres; you find them everywhere,” he continued. “And shambling mounds. They look like piles of rotting leaves—until they rise and envelop you. Swamp alligators; I fought gators with Flint. They carry venom in a spine at the ends of their tails. They try to paralyze you and pull you into the water and drown you.” He didn’t mention that the feisty dwarf had almost lost his life in such an encounter, surviving only after liberal doses of Qualinesti herbs to offset the poison.

  Kitiara pushed the blanket back from her head and drew her sword. Tanis’s was already out.

  “So we’re in the swamp. Should we retreat or go on?” the swordswoman asked.

  Tanis looked at the scarlet grasses. “We couldn’t turn the horses on this narrow path if we wanted to. Push on, but be ready, Kit.”

  They moved on more slowly, their ears pricking with every new splash and bubble from the swamp. The stench of rotting plants and animals grew worse. Solinari had risen and was bathing the travelers in platinum moonlight.

  Then, all at once, what looked like two silver moons hung in the sky. Kitiara pointed and shouted. “Look, half-elf! A light! It’s Haven after all!” Ignoring the half-elf’s cry of dismay, she kicked Obsidian in the sides and clattered confidently ahead. The half-elf had no choice but to force Dauntless into a gallop.

  “Kitiara, wait!” he shouted. “It’s a will-o’-the-wisp!” The swordswoman raced on as though she hadn’t heard him.

  The path widened and curved to the right of a black pool. Solinari shone above them, its light giving an otherwordly glow to the sphagnum moss in the trees that ringed the travelers. Tanis drew up behind the mounted swordswoman and lunged for Obsidian’s reins. Kitiara turned toward him. For a moment, confusion flickered across her face. Then her countenance cleared. “A will-o’-the-wisp?” she asked.

  The second orb hung lower, behind the pond. It was an arm’s length in diameter. Its pulsating color shifted from white to pale green to violet to blue.

  “A will-o’-the-wisp is intelligent,” Tanis explained, his sword still at the ready. “It lures its victims, masquerading as lanterns and confusing people until they stray into quicksand.”

  “Quicksand?” Kitiara looked about her.

  Tanis pointed to the black pool at their feet. “Quicksand.”

  Her voice was hushed. She glanced at the hovering globe of twinkling lights. “Will it attack?”

  “It may. Don’t let it so much as touch you. You’ll receive a shock that could kill you outright.”

  Kitiara dismounted, sword in her right hand, dagger in her left. “That must be the creature that killed Jarlburg and the others,” she said. “It probably came to the edge of the swamp near Meddow and coaxed them in.” Tanis nodded his agreement. “What does a will-o’-the-wisp eat?” the swordswoman persisted.

  “Fear.”

  Kitiara’s glance showed that she thought Tanis was making fun of her, but the half-elf continued. “I’ve heard that a frightened person emits an aura. Some creatures can sense it. Instead of killing its victims immediately—by brushing against them, for example—the will-o’-the-wisp prefers slow death for its victims because the creature can absorb fear and store it as food.”

  At that moment, the pulsating ball brightened, slowly but steadily, until its glow allowed the half-elf and swordswoman to make out the litter around the pool of black quicksand. In the eerie glow, they spotted skulls, swords, and pouches of money. Kitiara pointed. “Treasure?”

  “Probably thrown to the will-o’-the-wisp by victims hoping to buy mercy,” Tanis said.

  The lower branches of trees that overhung the pool were bare of leaves, evidence of desperate hands groping for anything that could resist the black sand’s pull.

  Kitiara’s face was shiny with perspiration—as was Tanis’s own, no doubt, the half-elf realized. The will-o’-the-wisp glowed ever brighter, its color transformations coming more swiftly now. “Kit,” he said, “it’s feeding on our fear! Think about something else.”

  She closed her eyes. “Solace.”

  “That’s good,” Tanis said soothingly. “The vallenwood trees … think about them.”

  “Everywhere I’ve gone,” she said, “people have asked me what it was like to live in houses in the great Solace vallenwood trees.”

  “With the rope bridges from tree to tree.”

  “You could live your entire life without putting a foot on the ground.”

  “Which is not the way for a dwarf,” Tanis commented. “Flint Fireforge has one of the few houses at the base of the trees. He rarely leaves the ground except to visit Otik’s tavern.”

  The light dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again.

  Then darkness.

  Suddenly, the only source of illumination was the faint light of Solinari. Tanis leaped from Dauntless, slinging his bow across one shoulder. “It’s going to attack!” He slapped the gelding on the flank while Kitiara followed suit with Obsidian. The two horses galloped down the path in opposite directions. The half-elf and swordswoman placed themselves back to back, waiting. Tanis heard Kitiara whispering to herself, “Solace, Solace.”

  “Vallenwood trees,” he replied. “Remember the vallenwoods.”

  Then the night burst around them. There was an explosion so bright that it momentarily blinded the half-elf. When his vision cleared, he saw a ball of blue flame streaking toward them. Grabbing Kitiara by the arm, he dragged her down on the path, and the cometlike creature, lightening to pale green, whisked overhead. The ends of Tanis’s hair crackled as the will-o’-the-wisp rushed by. Kitiara swore.

  “Huuu-mannnzzz!” The ghostly voice seemed to surround them, ebbing and strengthening and insinuating itself into every pore of their bodies. Yet the will-o’-the-wisp itself had returned to its position above the quicksand. The creature oscillated, its swirling colors shifting many times with each breath the companions drew.

  “By Takhisis!” Kitiara ejaculated. “You didn’t tell me the thing could speak!”

  “I didn’t know myself.”

  “Youuu havvve no chanccce, huuumanzzz.” The will-o’-the-wisp flickered from green to blue to violet to glaring white.

  Tanis swallowed and gripped his sword more tightly. “It’s vibrating faster. It must make sounds that way.”

  “I willlll … killllll youuu … slowwwllly.”

  Kitiara whispered, “How can we slay it?”

  “It can die by the sword, but we have to kill it without letting it touch us.”

  The thing drew closer. “You willllll feel much painnn, huuu-manzzz.”

  Tanis and Kitiara held their swords before them. Both had their daggers drawn as well.

  “Would an arrow kill it?”

  Tanis nodded.

  “Imagine the fearrr, humanzzz. Think about yourrr deathsss.”

  “You’re the bowman, ha
lf-elf,” Kitiara said. “The sword’s my weapon. I’ll cover you.”

  “Youuu willlll struggllle … for airrr, huuu-manzzz. Youuu willlll pannnic.” The thing floated still closer. “Halfff-elfff. Youuu willll die firrrrst, I thinnnk.”

  “It’s trying to unsettle you, Tanis. Remember, you have Kitiara Uth Matar at your back.”

  Tanis whispered, “Keep it distracted. When I shoot, hit the ground.”

  Kitiara was silent, motionless for a brief time. Then she pivoted to face the will-o’-the-wisp. She set her boots in the soggy peat.

  “All right, beast,” she snapped.

  “Yessssss?” The sibilance echoed in the dangling moss, reverberating off the quicksand’s surface. Out of the corner of Tanis’s eye, he saw a bog spider creep from the shadows onto the flattened peat.

  Kitiara’s voice was haughty. “We hold no fear for you, beast!”

  Something like sibilant laughter throbbed around them. “My sssenssess telllll mmmee otherwissse, huuu-mannn. Indeeeed, I’mmmm feeeeeding quite wellll on yourrr terror. I will ssavvvorr yourrr ttasty deathsss.”

  At that moment, Tanis slipped an arrow from his quiver and, in the same motion, dove for his bow. He rolled away from Kitiara and the will-o’-the-wisp, sending the spider scrambling back into the grass. Then he nocked the arrow and let it fly. Kitiara was already down on one knee, her sword outstretched. Her dagger carved circles in the air.

  The arrow arced through the night and nicked the edge of the pulsating ball of light. The thing disappeared in a small white explosion.

  There was silence.

  Then more silence. Tanis and Kitiara looked at each other. “That was it?” Kitiara asked disbelievingly.

  “I don’t know,” the half-elf said, rising. “I’ve never fought one of these things before.” He nocked another arrow and moved toward Kitiara. She kept her battle stance. Her gaze flicked from side to side.

  Suddenly another explosion rocked the clearing. Purple, blue, and green lightning fizzled in the grass.

  “Halfff-elfff!”

  Standing next to the quicksand, Tanis swung to meet the new threat and fired off another arrow. The shot went wild, and the will-o’-the-wisp bore down on him, flashing deep blue lightning bolts into the air. Tanis heard Kitiara shout, “Don’t let it touch you!” and then he leaped out of the way. The thing whooshed past as he jumped.

  The instant his body hit the cold, black surface of the quicksand, the half-elf knew he’d done exactly what the will-o’-the-wisp wanted. He started to thrash in the sticky muck until he realized that his struggling was only drawing him deeper into the deadly sand. Already he was submerged to the waist, out of arm’s reach of the edge of the pit.

  Kitiara shouted a battle cry, and Tanis saw her slash at the will-o’-the-wisp. He struggled again but only succeeded in sinking farther.

  He lay back against the muck. Above him and off to his right, the battle raged on. The will-o’-the-wisp, sparking green and purple, attacked and withdrew, obviously hoping to push Kitiara toward the quicksand, but the swordswoman refused to comply. She maintained her position amid the scattered bones, weapons, and coin pouches on the wide path. Tanis shouted encouragement; Kitiara smiled grimly and fought on.

  The half-elf caught sight of a branch overhead, silhouetted by Solinari. If he could just reach it.… Tanis stretched. His fingers brushed a few twigs. He tried not to think of previous victims who’d tried the same escape. He stretched again. His right hand clenched a twig and pulled; the twig broke off in his hand. His left hand managed to catch a slightly larger twig, and he pulled the branch toward him; this time it held.

  Finally Tanis hung by both arms from a branch the thickness of his thumb, which, while not enough to stop his sinking, did slow it. That might buy enough time. Stouter branches, ones that still had leaves, bobbed a foot above the small one, but that short distance might as well have been a mile.

  The will-o’-the-wisp still battled with tenacity. The swordswoman fought back with dagger and sword, darting, feinting, slashing at the bobbing ball of light. “Come on, you insignificant firefly!” she taunted. “I’ve seen bigger sparks from steel and stone!”

  “By the gods,” Tanis whispered in awe, “she’s not afraid of it!”

  The will-o’-the-wisp flared at Kitiara’s taunt. When it subsided, it had diminished in size. Tanis realized Kitiara’s stratagem. If the will-o’-the-wisp fed on fear, maybe it could be weakened by experiencing the opposite emotions. As Kitiara continued her taunts, Tanis shifted his grip on the branch.

  His left hand brushed against something furry.

  Tanis looked up, and his breath caught in his throat. A poisonous bog spider, larger than his fist, crouched on the branch right next to his hand. He tried to shift to the right. His movement pulled him a hand’s span deeper into the quicksand, and the purplish creature followed him along the branch.

  “Kit!” he shouted.

  The swordswoman looked over, grimaced, and doubled her efforts against the will-o’-the-wisp. But the bobbing creature swooped away and halted just above the branch where the half-elf hung.

  “The will-o’-the-wisp is growing larger on your fear, Tanis!” Kitiara yelled. “Don’t feed it!”

  The purple spider reached out a leg and caressed Tanis’s little finger. “Vallenwoods,” the half-elf murmured to himself.

  “Solace,” Kitiara added. “Rope bridges. Spiced potatoes and ale at the Inn of the Last Home.”

  The will-o’-the-wisp hovered lower; the poisonous spider placed another leg, then another, on Tanis’s hand. The tiny claws at the end of the legs pricked the skin on the half-elf’s hand. He dared not move; he tried not to think of the spider’s venomous fangs, but the will-o’-the-wisp’s color deepened and flared.

  “Flint Fireforge,” Tanis muttered desperately. “Spiced potatoes.”

  Kitiara shifted her handhold on her dagger; her strong fingers now gripped the blade instead of the hilt. The will-o’-the-wisp was still, only a foot from Tanis, apparently concentrating on the half-elf. Kitiara squinted, aiming. Then, with one fluid movement, she flung the dagger, shouting, “Tanis! Let go!” at the same time. Tanis plummeted into the quicksand, followed by the spider.

  Kitiara’s dagger flipped end over end through the air, through the place where Tanis had hung, and caught the will-o’-the-wisp in the exact center.

  The air was filled with the force of the explosion. This time the creature was gone for good.

  Chapter 3

  A Complication

  “AMAZING HOW A BATH AND CLEAN CLOTHES CAN IMPROVE a man,” Kitiara remarked the next day while she and the half-elf inspected the teeming Haven market. “You little resemble the slimy creature I pulled from the quicksand, half-elf. Dauntless barely knew you—once we caught up with him, that is.”

  Tanis smiled. “The horses are enjoying oats and mash at the livery and could use a day’s rest. We have the will-o’-the-wisp’s treasure to spend, a sunny day, and time to enjoy it.” He inclined his head. “May I buy you breakfast, Kitiara Uth Matar?”

  Kitiara assented with an elaborate nod. They’d eaten once, in their room at the Seven Centaurs Inn, but now, at midday, their stomachs rumbled again. “It must be the result of weeks of those infernal elven battle rations,” she commented, pausing to admire a vendor’s wares—metal trays of fragrant venison sizzling with onions and eggs. “I’ll eat anything but more elven quith-pa. Dried fruit, pah!” She was about to order a plate of the fried meat when her gaze was attracted by a display of flaky pastry filled with custard and drizzled with strawberry icing. She halted as if mesmerized. “Oh, the decisions,” she murmured happily.

  “We’ll have a plate of the venison and two of those frosted pastries,” Tanis told the vendor as Kitiara vacillated. “Lest you drool all over the man’s wares,” he told the swordswoman, who took the teasing with good humor.

  Conversation took second place to eating for a time as the half-elf and swordswoman strolled down an
avenue of the teeming market. Dressed in a short, split skirt of black leather and an overblouse of eggshell-colored linen, Kitiara drew many admiring looks from passersby, which she accepted with insouciance. Tanis, on the other hand, wore a pair of floppy, gathered pants in dark blue, plus a matching cotton shirt, both borrowed from the portly innkeeper at the Seven Centaurs. The shirt rippled with the slender half-elf’s movements.

  Kitiara eyed him again. “We need to find you new clothes to replace your ruined leathers, half-elf. I’m used to you in Plainsman garb; it suits you better than the dress of an overfed city-dweller.”

  Taller than Kitiara, Tanis had a better vantage, and in response he slipped a hand through her arm and drew her through the crowd. “I see just the place,” he said.

  The half-elf stopped before a large wagon, uncovered at the back but with a shell-like contraption over the driver’s seat. Kitiara could see from the wagon’s design that it took four mules to pull the top-heavy thing. Standing atop the ribbon-festooned vehicle was a hill dwarf with a rust-colored beard that curled down to his belt buckle. He wore homespun dyed forest green, plus brown leather boots scuffed with what was probably decades of use.

  Tanis and Kitiara waited while the dwarf finished with a customer, a loud woman who couldn’t decide between a pearl-and-platinum hair ornament and a seashell comb. “How old would you say this dwarf is?” Kitiara asked casually.

  Tanis considered. “Flint’s nearly one hundred and fifty, and this dwarf certainly looks younger than Flint. I’d say this fellow’s been around about a century. About ten years older than me.”

  Kitiara protested, “I’m spending time with someone who was an old man when I was born?”

  When Tanis nodded and murmured, “In human years, yes,” she snorted.

  “Do you care?” he asked.

  Kitiara laughed. “No,” she admitted. “It’s not as though we’re going to get married or anything.”

  The woman finally left with the comb and the hair bauble, and the dwarf who owned the wagon ambled over to Tanis and Kitiara. The vendor remained on the back of the wagon, glaring down at the crowd and picking his way among his wares with delicacy. “What do you want?” he muttered to the half-elf and swordswoman.