Singe felt a prickling across the back of his neck. His eyes darted up into the darkness overhead. Geth must have felt something, too, because he hissed, “In the trees, Ado!”
The druid glanced up, then folded his lower lip under his teeth and gave an ear-splitting whistle.
A hunting bird’s screech cut the night. Branches and leaves crashed above them as something struck from out of the sky—and something else sought to escape. Singe flinched instinctively. Wings cracked through the air, then the hunting bird screeched again.
A moment later, a big eagle with red-gold plumage settled onto the path. Clutched in its talons was a massive black heron. The eagle spread its wings and screeched once more, then waddled awkwardly back as Adolan approached and bent down. “Well done, Breek,” he said. “Singe, your light?”
Stunned, the wizard stepped closer and raised his shining rapier high. Over Adolan’s shoulder, he got a better look at the dead bird. Its long neck had been broken by the eagle’s attack, but it looked almost as if the heron had been on the verge of death already: it was thin and its black feathers seemed strangely oily. The eyes that stared blankly into the night were an eerily bright acid green.
Singe swallowed. “I didn’t know herons perched in trees,” he said awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.
“The tops of trees,” Geth said, “yes. The thick of a forest canopy? No. Ado?”
“It’s tainted. But not enough to have triggered the Bull Hole. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” The druid stood. “We—”
“We need to go,” said Dandra.
Singe, Adolan, and Geth swung around as one to stare at her. The woman’s hands were clenched tight around her spear. There was a terror on her face, Singe saw, that hadn’t been there when they were fighting the hunters.
“They’ll be coming.” She trembled. “They follow the birds.”
Singe darted forward and steadied her. He glanced at Geth and Adolan. “There was a bird watching me before we were attacked.”
“More hunters coming then?” asked Geth.
“Or worse,” said Adolan softly. “Either way, we shouldn’t stay here.” He looked to Geth. The shifter nodded and spun around to lope away along the path, his gaze swinging right to left and back. Scouting the way. Singe felt another twinge of familiarity. Nine years before, the shifter had done the same thing in service to the Frostbrand and House Deneith.
He turned back, however, to find Adolan staring at him. “Put your fight with Geth aside,” the druid said. “You’re in danger.” He looked at Dandra. “Are you going to attack me again?”
She shook her head urgently. Adolan nodded. “Then come with us, both of you. Quickly.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue and the eagle croaked in response, vaulting back into the air and flapping furiously to gain the sky. Adolan gestured with his spear, then turned and ran after Geth with long, confident strides. Dandra pulled out of Singe’s arms and raced off in his wake. Her first few paces were on the ground, then she was floating again, moving as quickly as Adolan—faster even. Abruptly, Singe was all but alone, left to stare at the retreating figures of the druid and the kalashtar and at the bodies lying along the path.
“Twelve moons—” he breathed in confusion.
His voice froze as a weird fluting call pierced the forest. It was unlike anything he had ever heard: shrill, maddening, and haunting all at once. There was another sound underneath it as well, a vague muttering chant. Singe’s teeth snapped together and he sprinted hard after Adolan, the light from his rapier bouncing and sweeping in the darkness.
The fluting call fell silent, but not the muttering chant. If anything, it seemed louder. Even another of the rolling bellows—louder than before and also closer—did nothing but drown it out for a moment. When the echoes of the bellow faded away, the chanting was closer still. Singe cursed under his breath. He glanced at Dandra, but the kalashtar’s eyes were fixed on the path ahead. “Adolan,” he gasped, “what’s happening? Where are we going?”
“We’re going to the Bull Hole,” Adolan said. Even he sounded winded. “We’ll be safe there.”
“What’s the Bull Hole? What’s making that chanting?”
There was light ahead. Moonlight. Singe caught a glimpse of Geth’s hulking form waiting for them. Abruptly, they shot out of the shadows of the forest and into a huge broad clearing. At its center was a jumble of stones.
He remembered seeing this clearing from the rim of the valley as he and Toller looked down on Bull Hollow. He remembered thinking the stones were the ruins of some building. He couldn’t, he realized, have been more wrong.
The stones looked like they predated the hamlet, like they predated any human presence in the Eldeen Reaches. Weathered smooth, they shone and shimmered under the light of the moons and the Ring of Siberys. Many leaned sharply and a good number had fallen entirely, but it was easy to see that they had once stood in a carefully arranged, tightly clustered circle. Yet another bellow rolled through the night and this time Singe felt it rumble in his guts. He could have sworn that even the ground trembled with the sound.
Geth fell in with them, matching his pace to Adolan’s. The shifter’s face was grim and every few moments he glanced back over his shoulder. They were a little more than halfway to the stones when he let out a growl and spat, “Here they come!”
Singe risked a glance back himself. Bursting silently from the edge of the forest and into the moonlit clearing were a dozen or more tall, lean Bonetree hunters. More frightening than the human figures, though, were the hunched shapes that ran along with them, scuttling out of the trees on squat, misshapen legs.
The creatures stood less than half the height of a human. It looked as if their heads and necks had been crushed down into their shoulders. Each pumped four bandy arms as it ran. It seemed as if every arm carried a weapon: Singe glimpsed viciously spiked bucklers, light spears, ugly maces, and crossbows. All of the creatures wore a strange crest on their malformed chests as well. The moonlight caught a weird design shaped like a mouth full of teeth.
Then one of the crests shifted, opened wide, and let out a wild yell. Two mouths, Singe realized. The creatures had two mouths to go with their four arms! They were the source of the muttering chant, as if their two mouths had been talking to each other in a horrible chorus as they stalked the darkened forest.
“Faster!” grunted Adolan. “Get to the stones!”
None of them needed his encouragement. Geth ran with the flowing stride of an animal, almost going down on four legs. Adolan opened up his pace. Dandra’s floating form skimmed over the ground like a low-flying bird. Singe simply moved his legs as hard and fast as he could. A new roar rose up from their pursuers, humans and creatures calling out together.
Twenty paces to the stones. Fifteen. Dandra vanished among the stones.
Something whizzed past Singe and sank into the ground ahead. He caught a glimpse of a crossbow bolt, its head buried in the soil, as he raced past. Ten paces. Geth was under cover, then Adolan. He was alone in the open! Three more thuds came in rapid succession all around him. Three more bolts sprouted out of the ground. The archers were finding their range. Five paces.
Singe leaped and rolled into the shelter of the stones just as a cascade of bolts fell out of the air like deadly hail.
CHAPTER
4
Dandra felt Singe slam into her as he dove for cover behind the same fallen stone as her. She heard the rattle of crossbow bolts as they bounced off the stones. Adolan and Geth were somewhere close by, also under cover. She was aware of everything, but only peripherally, like a sound half-heard or a shadow half-glimpsed.
Tetkashtai’s wailing filled her head. They’ve caught us! Light of il-Yannah, we’re captured. I won’t go back there. I won’t!
The strength of her presence raged inside Dandra, clenching at her guts like the hands of a drowning swimmer. Tetkashtai’s terror was contagious and so powerful that it was almost physical. She gasped for brea
th.
Tetkashtai! she shouted back in her mind. Tetkashtai! Calm down! We have to—
The presence lashed out at her, a vicious swipe of light that burned through Dandra’s mind. This is your fault! If you’d been faster, if you’d fled this place when I told you to, we’d be safe. This is your fault, you dahr!
An image formed in Tetkashtai’s light. Eyes. Wise, piercing eyes, full of secrets. Terrible, devouring secrets. In the presence’s yellow-green light, the color of those eyes was distorted, but Dandra could picture them as well as Tetkashtai. They were bright, acid green. Like those of the black heron that Breek had brought down. When Adolan’s eagle had first brought down the strange bird, the sight of those unnaturally bright eyes had stirred emotions in her. Fascination. Fear. Horror.
Tetkashtai’s wails struck a fever pitch. She clawed at Dandra’s mind as if she could rake the image and the memories away. No! No! No!
Dandra’s head slammed back against the rock as her body stiffened. Bright sparks of pain popped in her vision. Tetkashtai, be quiet! she shouted, thrusting back against the terrified presence. Keening incoherently, Tetkashtai withdrew into the crystal, leaving Dandra gasping and clutching her temples.
“Twelve moons!” cursed Singe. He hauled himself up beside her, leaning his back against the stone and gulping air. He glanced at her, his face blotched red and white from their flight. “Dandra, are you all right?”
She nodded weakly. His hand scrambled for his rapier. The light that the blade shed seemed cold and feeble, as if the shadows of the stones were sucking it up.
“Rest,” said Adolan. The druid was crouched behind a leaning stone to their left.
“Are you insane?” Singe’s voice broke. “As soon as they’re finished—”
The rain of crossbow bolts stopped. Singe tensed. “Here they come!”
“No,” said Adolan.
Singe stared at the druid with astonished disbelief, but a moment later—when no attack had come—he stood up and peered over the top of the stone. Dandra heard breath hiss between his teeth. On their right, Geth moved as well. The metal of the strange armored sleeve that he wore scraped against rock as he moved, bending his neck to look out into the clearing. “They’ve stopped, Adolan,” he reported.
“Twelve moons,” Singe whispered. “What are those things?”
“Dolgrims,” Adolan answered. There was a raw tension in the druid’s voice. He was crouched behind a leaning stone to their left. “Aberrations, a blight on Eberron.”
Dandra saw Singe’s throat work as he swallowed hard. “Those are dolgrims?” he asked. “I’ve read about them. They’re … not what I expected.”
Dandra forced her limbs to move. Slowly and carefully, she leaned over and peered past the side of the stone. Perhaps halfway between the stones and the edge of the clearing, the dolgrims milled about in confusion. Moans and growls of frustration sputtered out of their double mouths. A few tried to move closer to the stones. They looked almost like they were attempting to walk into a strong wind. Behind them, the Bonetree hunters squatted down on the ground with an unsettling patience.
One of the dolgrims squealed and seemed to point directly at her. Half a dozen of the creatures swung around sharply, raising one or a pair of arms to fire off a new volley of crossbow bolts. Dandra, Singe, and Geth ducked back under cover. Even Tetkashtai seemed to take notice, gibbering out another wail of terror.
“What’s holding them back?” asked Singe. “What is this place—?”
His question was drowned out by another of the rolling bellows, this one so loud that Dandra pressed her hands to her ears. She glimpsed movement as Adolan reached up and pressed his palm against the stone above him. His mouth moved in an invocation and the deafening roar ended. Out in the clearing, a frightened babble broke out among the dolgrims.
“We’re safe here for the time being,” said Adolan. “You can relax. They can’t get any closer.”
“Why not?” Singe asked.
Adolan settled back. “The Bull Hole is sacred to my sect. Our lore holds that our traditions began thousands of years ago as a defense against an invasion from a realm of madness. The leaders of that invasion were powerful creatures called daelkyr. They brought lesser creatures with them from their realm—and created others from the beings they found on Eberron. All of them are anathema to nature. The war that followed took place in the Shadow Marches, spilling over into the lands surrounding the Marches.” He gestured around them. “Like the Eldeen Reaches. The Daelkyr War ended when the paths to the realm of madness were sealed. My sect, the Gatekeepers, is the oldest of the druid traditions and the one that sealed those paths and bound the greater aberrations left behind on Eberron into the depths of Khyber.” He touched the stone again. “Ancient druids created the Bull Hole and places like it to warn and guard against such creatures as the dolgrims. Its power keeps them back.”
Dandra watched as Singe stared at the druid, then squeezed his eyes shut, raked fingers through thick blond hair, and finally opened his eyes again. “That’s ludicrous!” he sputtered. “There weren’t even any humans in this part of the world that long ago. Historians have shown that the only cultures here were scattered orc barbarians and the hobgoblin empire of Dhakaan—and it fell almost six millennia ago!”
Adolan raised an eyebrow. “Historians?”
“Singe studied at Wynarn University,” growled Geth. “He knows everything.”
Dandra caught the dark glance that Singe shot toward the shifter. Adolan’s eyes, however, never wavered from the wizard.
“What do your historians say,” he asked, “caused the Dhakaani Empire to fall?”
Singe’s jaw tensed. “There’s evidence of a war.”
“With who?” Adolan spread his hands. “Scattered orc barbarians?”
Singe opened his mouth, then closed it again. Geth turned his back on him and looked out into the clearing. “The Bonetree hunters are all just sitting back but the dolgrims are still milling around. It looks like a few have tried to go around the back of the circle.”
“They won’t get in there either,” said Adolan. He glanced back at Singe. “Well?”
The wizard glowered at him. “You’re telling me this circle was built by hobgoblins?”
“Of course not.” Adolan rose to his feet, careful to stay in the shadow of his stone. “The first druids were orcs.”
“Ores?” Singe’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “Orcs couldn’t create something like this!”
“Not now, maybe,” Adolan agreed. “But you believe that the hobgoblins who spend most of their time fighting among themselves in Darguun today are the same race that once built an empire spanning half a continent, don’t you?”
Singe’s mouth closed with a snap. Adolan turned to look at Dandra. “At the cabin,” he said, “you were desperate to escape.”
Dandra bit her lip. “I’m sorry that I turned on you, but I had to—”
Adolan raised his hand, stopping her. “They’re after you, aren’t they? You’re the reason they’ve come to Bull Hollow.”
She felt blood rush to her face. With the eyes of all three men on her, she nodded.
“Why?” asked Adolan.
Her belly knotted at the question. Tetkashtai, she thought, what should I tell them? The cowering presence’s only response, however, was a thin, mad gibbering. Dandra took a deep breath and looked back at Adolan.
“They were holding me captive,” she said, trying to keep her story as simple as possible. “They kidnapped me from Zarash’ak and took me to their camp in the marshes. I managed to escape, but they’ve been pursuing me ever since.” She paused, then added. “I’ve been running for almost a month, just trying to stay ahead of them. Until you found me, I didn’t even really know where I was.”
A harshness that crept into her voice surprised even her. Adolan’s eyebrows twitched in surprise, but Geth actually cursed out loud. “Rat! Do you expect us to believe that?”
Dandra gave him an angr
y look. “Would you want to get caught by them?” She pointed over her shoulder, beyond the stones. “I can move fast and it’s hard to track someone who doesn’t leave footprints if she doesn’t want to. They needed their herons to follow me.”
“You were walking when we found you.”
“I was exhausted!”
“Easy,” said Adolan, raising a hand to both her and Geth. “Arguing isn’t going to help us.” The druid glanced at Dandra again. “Why did they take you?”
“Why me? I don’t know,” she answered. That much at least was the truth. She directed another mental prod toward Tetkashtai, but the presence whined like a child and batted her away. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe.”
“Maybe they wanted you for a sacrifice to Khyber,” suggested Singe.
Dandra nodded. “Maybe,” she lied. Her hand shifted to wrap tight around the yellow-green crystal that hung from her neck. She could almost feel Tetkashtai stirring under her fingers.
The sudden patter of another shower of crossbow bolts shattered the tension of the moment and sent all of four of them cringing back under cover. “Ado, we have to do something!” Geth snarled. “They’ll soon get lucky and hit something other than rocks. We can’t stay here.”
Adolan nodded and said, “You’re right. You and Singe keep watch. Dandra, come with me.” He beckoned her to follow as he moved deeper into the circle.
Dandra drew a sharp breath and scuttled after him. Her movement roused Tetkashtai as nothing else had. Yes! she shrieked. Yes, run! Il-Yannah’s light, please run!
The presence’s fear rattled through her, so strong that Dandra almost stumbled as her legs started to respond to Tetkashtai’s demands. She pushed back against her terror. We can’t run, Tetkashtai. We’d be abandoning Geth, Singe, and Adolan!
So? Tetkashtai wailed. Better them than us! They can distract the hunters while we escape.
Dandra recoiled from the suggestion. Tetkashtai! I can’t do that!
The presence wrenched at her, yellow-green light harsh and bright. When did your opinion start to matter? Run!
The Binding Stone: The Dragon Below Book 1 Page 6
