by Ellen Porath
“I don’t need telepathy to know what you’re asking, old friend,” Tanis whispered. He drew his sword, uttered a silent prayer, and slit the horse’s throat. Dauntless’s life bubbled into the soil of Darken Wood. Tanis stayed with the horse until his breathing ceased.
Using Kitiara’s sword to fashion a grave, Caven was making little headway in the hard ground.
“It will take you hours at that rate,” Tanis said quietly. “We must hurry after Kitiara and Lida.”
“I’m going to bury him.” Caven’s voice was toneless.
“We could pile stones over the lad. It’s the usual way for those who die where burying is difficult. And it’s faster.”
“He’s my sister’s child. I will bury him as she would have, back in Kern.”
“But Kitiara …”
Caven’s voice rose in determination. “Kitiara got herself into trouble; she can wait. I will bury Wode. You can help or not, as you choose. You owe me nothing, half-elf.”
Tanis knew he would need Caven Mackid in the hours and days ahead, so he put aside his sword and began to dig with his bare hands. There came a rustling behind them, and Tanis wheeled quickly, expecting another onslaught. Instead it was Xanthar, pulling himself weakly to his feet. “Kai-lid,” he said faintly. “We must find …”
“Who?” Tanis asked. The giant owl looked straight at him.
“Lida,” Xanthar corrected himself. “We must go after Lida and Kitiara. To save them.”
Tanis gestured mutely to indicate Caven, who hadn’t bothered to look up. The swordsman was working steadily, scraping at the ground with his blade and picking rocks out of the hollow with his fingers. He had wrapped Wode’s body in his own scarlet cape.
The owl nodded. “He will not leave him?” Tanis nodded his head. The owl hesitated. He looked toward the north. Then Xanthar gave a near-human approximation of a shrug. “Caven Mackid is right,” Xanthar said. “It is best, in Darken Wood, to leave no funeral rite unobserved. We would not want to encounter this Wode in the ranks of the undead.” The owl surveyed Caven a moment longer, then said briskly, “Nevertheless, there’s not a moment to lose, and you are making little headway, human.”
At this, Xanthar edged forward. “Allow me,” the bird whispered. He opened his great, saw-edged beak and began to dig. Soon the depression grew into a shallow oblong trench.
Finally Xanthar drew back. “It is deep enough,” he said. He spat and cleaned his beak of soil by running it through his wing feathers.
Caven started to object to the shallowness of the grave, then gave in. “All right,” he said wearily.
They gently moved Wode’s body into the hollow and covered it with twigs and leaves, dirt and rocks. “Kernish observances are silent,” Caven said, and the half-elf and owl followed his lead as he stood beside the grave and bowed his head for several long minutes. When at last he looked up, his eyes were wet, but his face was resolute. He whistled for Maleficent. The horse stood uneasily as Caven and Tanis loaded Kitiara’s pack and necessary belongings. After searching Wode’s pack and finding nothing of consequence save a small amulet from his name-giving day, they hung the pack on a stick atop the teen’s grave as a remembrance.
Then both men mounted Maleficent. “I’m not accustomed to cozying with any but women, half-elf,” Caven complained. Tanis snorted and settled behind the Kernan on the stallion’s broad back. With Xanthar circling overhead, they set off after Kitiara and Kai-lid.
The path seemed to head into mountainous terrain, but this time the ettin’s footprints were nearly impossible to spot. Time and again the half-elf slid off Maleficent to search under plants and debris for the huge print. “He’s being more cagey now,” the half-elf mused.
Dawn seemed imminent, and Tanis realized he’d long since lost track of what time of day it was outside Darken Wood. The woods were lightening, losing some of their fearsome quality. One by one the eyes of the undead blinked and went out.
“This is your fault, half-elf,” Caven said almost bitterly. When the half-elf, mounted behind Caven, drew back in surprise, the swordsman continued, “Your horse. Your useless gelding failed me.”
“Your stallion was poorly trained. It would not even let you mount it.”
“Yours was a coward.”
“Dauntless carried me safely through many dangers, Mackid. You caused his death yourself with that melodramatic stab at a rescue.”
“No great loss, losing a nag like that.” Caven was silent for a time.” Tanis was doing his best to keep his temper. “Anyway, you were the one who brought Kitiara the news of the ettin, half-elf.”
“And you knew there might be a connection between the ettin and the Valdane and Janusz, but you didn’t speak up!”
They continued in this vein, growing increasingly heated and acrimonious, until Xanthar dropped out of the sky and landed ahead of them on a branch overhanging the trail. Maleficent neighed and halted.
You two tire me.
“The same to you, owl!” Caven exploded, twisting to face the giant bird. “Why don’t you just lead us to Kitiara and the mage, and spare us your babble?”
“Surely you speak telepathically with the mage,” Tanis observed. “That at least would save us hunting for that damned creature’s prints.”
I have tried to mind-speak to her. She is too far distant. My ability has its limits.
“Then what good are you? You’re as useless as the half-elf!” Caven kicked Maleficent into a trot.
Xanthar spoke offhandedly, but with the bright eyes that gauged the men’s every emotion. Kitiara is with child, you know.
The two slammed to a halt.
“Pregnant!” The two men spoke at the same time. “I’m going to be a father?”
Horrified, they looked at each other. Caven’s expression changed to one of mere annoyance, but Tanis was speechless.
The owl chuckled. Both of you, is it? Something else for the two of you to argue over. I refuse to listen. With a flick of his stubby tail and a thrum of his wings, Xanthar resumed circling. Maleficent moved into a canter without a signal from Caven. The black-bearded soldier spoke harshly to the half-elf.
“It’s me, you know, half-elf. I’m the father.”
Tanis snorted.
“She’s known me longer than she knew you.”
“As if that matters, Mackid.” The revelation explained Kitiara’s queasiness and ill temper, at any rate.
“It must be me,” Caven persisted angrily. “It’s me she loves. She lied to you that night at Haven. She stayed with me. Oh, Kitiara may rob me and run away, but she can’t resist me when I turn up!” He laughed.
Enraged, Tanis slugged Caven. The two rolled off the stallion, hit the ground without loosing their holds on each other, and writhed and wrestled in the dirt. Dust and plant stems flew in the air as they pummeled each other. Xanthar coasted down again and landed nearby, watching with amusement.
Tanis was outweighed by the larger human, and soon the slighter half-elf was prone on the ground, fighting for breath under Caven’s bulk. Tanis spat out dirt and fumed with the humiliation. The half-elf flailed ineffectually, but with Caven sitting on his back, there was little Tanis could do. Finally he gathered enough air to speak just above a whisper. Caven couldn’t hear him and leaned closer.
“What is it, half-elf?”
“I said it should be interesting being the husband of Kitiara Uth Matar. Imagine marrying your own commanding officer. What a marriage that will be!”
Caven stood up hurriedly, disconcerted, allowing Tanis to roll over and get up.
“Marry?” Caven asked. “Who said anything about marrying? You know Kitiara. There’s probably a half-dozen men between here and Kernen who could vie for the title of papa of Kitiara’s byblow.”
“And one half-elf—you forget.”
Sarcasm oozed from the swordsman’s words. “I suppose the honorable Tanis Half-Elven would marry his lady, set her up in a cozy cottage, and live happily ever after.” Tanis felt
his face grow red; it was embarrassingly close to what he had been thinking. Caven roared and slapped the half-elf on the back. “Half-elf, this is real life, not a fairy tale! You couldn’t contain Kitiara in anything less than a prison cell.”
“Are you saying you’re not the father?”
Caven stopped short on his way back to Maleficent. “I’m saying I’m the most obvious choice”—he preened—“but there’s no way Captain Kitiara could prove it.”
A huge branch suddenly fell out of the sky, narrowly missing them. Both men leaped back with oaths and looked up, swords drawn. Xanthar was poised in the act of sending a second broken branch after the first.
You disgust me. Each man wants the credit, but not the blame.
“I would marry her,” Tanis said mulishly, with a glare at Caven, who rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword.
That’s laudable, half-elf. Perhaps you might consider asking Kitiara—if the opportunity arises, that is. But first, don’t the two of you overgrown bullbears think we should rescue her from the ettin? It’s either that or lose her—and Lida—in the recesses of the sla-mori.
“The sla-mori?” Tanis asked. “Then you know where the ettin’s taking them?”
I can guess.
“Now, wait a minute,” Caven said. “What’s a sla-mori?”
“A sla-mori is a secret passage—a magical way of getting from one place to another,” Tanis explained.
When Caven still looked perplexed, the owl took over. There is a rumor of a sla-mori somewhere in Darken Wood, although rumor places it in several locations. One of them is not too far from here, in the valley near Fever Mountain. This one, some say, will take its user far to the south—perhaps all the way to the Icereach, although some say the sla-mori’s destination is elsewhere.
“Rumor?” Caven asked weakly. “We’re plunging deeper into Darken Wood on the strength of a rumor?”
“Following advice given us in a dream,” Tanis added. A half-smile lit his face, then vanished.
The owl pressed on. The sla-mori is the most logical solution. The ettin mentioned that Fever Mountain is near the sla-mori—or at least where it’s rumored to be.
“Wait,” Caven interjected again. He was livid; the only sign of color in his face was a scarlet streak high on each cheekbone, framed by his black hair and beard. “You knew all along that the ettin wanted to capture Kitiara? If you’d shared the information with us, Wode might be alive now!”
Xanthar had the grace to look ashamed, but he hid the expression by whetting his beak against a branch. I didn’t know the real danger. I believed he’d take the swordswoman and the rest of you, but I didn’t think any harm would befall anyone.
“But you were willing to let us take the risk!” Tanis cried.
Xanthar glowered down at them. We’re on the same side now, half-elf. You have no choice but to trust me on the subject. And I’m not saying any more. The owl took off with a screech.
Caven and Tanis looked confusedly at each other, at the giant owl soaring above, and at Maleficent, foraging under a nearby bush.
“Well, half-elf?” Caven asked. “What do we do now?”
Tanis frowned. “Whatever the owl has been plotting, the fact remains that the ettin has Kitiara and the lady mage and intends to spirit them far away unless we stop them.”
“And this is our problem, half-elf? Yours and mine?”
“Possibly. There’s the lady mage’s poem, after all. ‘Lovers three, spell-cast maid.’ It doesn’t take the brightness of a will-o’-the-wisp to suspect that might refer to us.”
“So what?” Caven muttered. “Who’s paying us to get involved? Or are we supposed to risk our lives out of the goodness of our hearts?”
“It’s worth keeping an open mind.” Tanis glanced back in the direction from which they’d traveled. “The path has disappeared,” he reminded Caven. “Unless you know Darken Wood well enough to guide us out, I’m guessing that going forward is our best choice.”
Caven thought a moment, then shook his head as if he were in pain. “I’ve lost my nephew. I’m stuck looking for a woman who has double-crossed me at least once and who may—or may not—be carrying my child. To make matters worse, I’m traveling with a romantic half-elf who believes that only he could be the father. By the gods!”
The half-elf smiled. “That’s right,” Tanis said, and started toward Maleficent with a look that said that he’d brook no nonsense from the stallion.
“Eh?” Caven dogged the half-elf’s steps and caught up with him just as he reached for the black horse.
“You’re stuck,” Tanis said, mounting the stallion. He extended a hand to Caven Mackid, indicating that the Kernan should swing up behind him on the horse. “As am I. So let’s go.”
* * * * *
“Look!” Kitiara cried suddenly. “Did you see that, mage?”
The spell-caster looked where Kitiara was pointing. “I don’t see anything,” the mage said. “Nothing but the eyes of the und—” Kitiara poked her in the ribs, and the mage broke off.
The ettin followed Kitiara’s pointing finger, too. Until now, he’d walked behind them with both clubs ready to help keep them on the path, which opened before them and then closed just as suddenly as soon as the two-headed creature passed. “The hand of Janusz,” Kitiara had muttered when she’d first observed the phenomenon.
“What see?” Res-Lacua cried now. “What see?”
“A pig!” Kitiara pretended to spy it off to the right. “There—a tender piglet!”
“Yes!” Kai-lid chimed in. “I see it now.”
“Food!” The ettin rejoiced. He darted toward the underbrush, where Kitiara knew nothing waited but the hungry undead. The ettin paused and looked back at the women. He gestured and shouted, “You stay here!” Kitiara and Kai-lid nodded as he plunged out of sight.
“The undead should finish him off in no time,” Kitiara said quietly to Kai-lid. “Then you can call your owl to come get us.”
The mage looked dubious. Several times since the ettin had dragged them off, Kitiara had whispered to Kai-lid to unleash her magic and free them from the ettin’s influence, but Kai-lid had only shaken her head. “I can’t,” she finally said. “I already tried a spell. Nothing happened.”
“Why not?” Kitiara demanded. “Is it the woods?” But the mage only shrugged. Worry lines wrinkled her forehead.
Now Kitiara, having taken matters into her own hands, waited for the screaming that would tell her that the undead were pressing around the ettin, feeding off his fear, heightening his terror, slaying him—and freeing the women.
Then she, with this useless mage in tow, would go back to the clearing. She’d go back for her pack. She’d retrieve the ice jewels that had caused all this. She wondered if Tanis and Caven would still be at the clearing. If they’d left, would they have had the sense to take her belongings with them? Or would they have left the irreplaceable pack behind for the undead? Kitiara listened to the ettin crashing through the underbrush and waited for Res-Lacua’s lingering death.
But there were no sounds other than those of the ettin uprooting saplings in his search for a pork dinner. The two women exchanged grim looks. “Well?” Kai-lid asked. Kitiara lifted her shoulders and let them drop.
The ettin appeared before them on the trail. Both of his faces were long. The right head appeared near tears; the left head looked merely baffled. “Pig got away,” Lacua complained. He motioned them on with one club.
“I don’t get it,” Kitiara whispered as they resumed walking. “If you can’t count on the undead to kill something, who can you count on?”
Kai-lid blinked, seeming to hide a smile. “The undead feed off fear?” she asked. Kitiara nodded, and Kai-lid ventured, “Perhaps Res-Lacua is too stupid to know he’s supposed to be afraid of them.”
Kitiara stopped in her tracks and swore until Res-Lacua poked her with the club. Kai-lid grabbed the swordswoman’s arm and hauled her along, but the mercenary continued spewing oaths
for several minutes before she finally ran down.
“It’s all right,” the mage said. “Women in your condition are often emotional.”
“What are you talking about?” Kitiara snapped. “I’m in fine condition!” She even picked up the pace, hiking along at a speed that ate up the distance. While the ettin merely lengthened his strides, Kai-lid practically had to run to keep up with her. Thus Kitiara was moving at rapid speed when the mage calmly mentioned her pregnancy.
This time Kai-lid found herself staring at Kitiara’s fist. “Not funny, mage,” the swordswoman hissed.
Kai-lid’s hood slipped back from her face. “You mean you don’t know?”
“And how would you know if I were with child, which I assure you I am not?”
“Are you so certain?”
Kitiara’s hand wobbled as she reviewed the past few days and weeks. “By Takhisis!” she finally breathed, horror flickering across her face. Then reason reasserted itself, and she glared at the mage. “You say you’re a mage, not a healer, and every so-called healer I’ve met has been a charlatan, anyway. So I repeat: How would you know?”
Kitiara pointed behind an oak. “I just saw that young pig again, ettin!” Kai-lid nodded vigorously at the creature, who scrambled toward the tree. “How would you know?” Kitiara reiterated to Kai-lid, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.
Kai-lid shrugged out of Kit’s grasp. “I can look within people sometimes. I cannot heal, and I cannot diagnose, but I can sense things. Xanthar showed me how. He cannot do magic, but he has other powers, some of which you’ve seen. He sensed your condition as well, back at the clearing.”
“Damn!” Kitiara said, then looked hopefully at the mage. “Can you do anything about it?”
“Do?”
“Get rid of it.”
The mage’s dark face flushed. “I said I am a mage, and a mage only. That is beyond my talents—and my inclinations.”
