The Binding Stone: The Dragon Below Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

  Adolan turned a sharp glare on her. “No,” he said. The druid clenched his spear and stepped out from behind the stone.

  “If she’s the one thing you want, dolgaunt,” he shouted back, “then I swear by the Three Dragons and the Twelve Moons that she’s the one thing you’ll never have!”

  The druid’s defiance echoed across the valley. Behind Hruucan, the Bonetree hunters stirred angrily. The tall woman said something to the dolgaunt and raised the sword that she carried. Geth bared his teeth. Even with the protection of the Bull Hole, he flexed his hand instinctively inside the great-gauntlet. “Boar’s tusk!” he muttered at Adolan as he ducked back in among the stones. “Couldn’t think of a better way to get them angry, could you?”

  But out in the clearing, Hruucan simply turned his back on the stone circle and lifted his hand, silencing the hunters. He leaned toward the tall woman and the lean man who had accompanied him out of the forest. Both nodded. Geth stared as the dolgaunt strode out of the clearing and vanished into the trees after the dolgrims.

  The tall woman and the lean man began drifting among the hunters, whispering to them. Where they passed, the savage warriors stretched and readied their weapons, looking toward the Bull Hole with a violent glee in their eyes.

  “Twelve bloody moons, what are they up to?” said Singe. He glanced at Dandra. She shook her head. The wizard looked to Geth and Adolan. “I thought you said the dolgaunt was the leader of the dolgrims, not the hunters!”

  Adolan shook his head. “Dolgaunts are servants of the powers of Khyber. The cults of the Dragon Below revere all such aberrations as holy creatures.”

  “Can we make a break for it while their numbers are low?”

  “No,” Geth said. “We don’t know where the dolgrims have gone.” He studied the hunters, especially the man and woman. They seemed to be in charge now that Hruucan was gone. The woman kept glancing toward the Bull Hole, then back toward the hunters, as she paced back and forth across the clan’s line. “They’re waiting for something,” he guessed. “Maybe they’re expecting us to make a break.”

  “Maybe,” agreed Dandra. The kalashtar was watching the hunters as well, her brow furrowed. Geth glanced at her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Maybe nothing.” She turned to Adolan. “You said the Bull Hole only saw unnatural things like the dolgrims. It couldn’t see the Bonetree hunters. It was created to protect against aberrations.”

  The druid nodded.

  Dandra gestured toward the tall woman. “The Bull Hole protected us from the dolgrims and Hruucan, but the hunters haven’t even tried to approach yet, have they?”

  Adolan’s eyes narrowed, then went wide. “Ring of Siberys!”

  Geth stared at him. “What?” he demanded. “What is it?”

  “Humans and aberrations have never attacked the Bull Hole in concert before.” Adolan leaned against the stone, peering into the night. “I don’t know if the Bull Hole will protect us against humans or not!”

  “This isn’t a good time to find out!” growled Geth. He reached across his body and pulled his sword from his sheath.

  “It’s going to get worse!” Singe thrust an arm up toward the sky. “Look!” Geth, along with Adolan and Dandra, followed his gesture.

  Up above the treetops in the direction of Bull Hollow, ruddy light lit the underside of a growing column of smoke.

  “Grandfather Rat,” Geth breathed. Bull Hollow was burning. He knew where the dolgaunt and the dolgrims had gone.

  The hunters saw the fire, too. As if it was the signal she had been waiting for, the tall woman thrust her sword high into the air and shouted, “Su Drumas!”

  Savage, screaming battle cries made the night tremble. The hunters sprang to the attack. The Bull Hole’s defenses didn’t even slow them down.

  Geth’s heart thundered in his chest. If they stood their ground, they would be trapped. “The Hollow, Ado!” he roared. “We have to get to the Hollow!”

  “Just keep the hunters busy!” Adolan spun abruptly and raced back toward the center of the Bull Hole.

  Geth bared his teeth and prayed the druid knew what he was doing. “Hold them back!” he shouted at Singe and Dandra. “Singe to the left, Dandra to the right!”

  Roaring like Tiger, he hurled himself out from the circle of stones and directly at the massed heart of the Bonetree charge. A lithe little hunter with two long knives leaped out in front of the pack, faster than the other warriors. Geth’s sword darted forward, then swept to the side in a lethal arc.

  The savage warrior ducked and rolled under it neatly, coming up inside the shifter’s guard with his knives slashing in a furious cascade of sharpened metal.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Geth’s right arm snapped in front of his body and the slashing knives grated harmlessly along the blackened plates of his great-gauntlet. High … low … outside … Geth caught every strike on his arm. A year’s wages as Singe had said, but worth it. Enhanced by an artificer’s magic, the armor sleeve was as effective as the heaviest shield. He took a fast step backward and cut in with his sword once more. The Bonetree warrior twisted to meet the blow—and Geth straightened his arm, bringing the gauntlet up and around in a brutal, heavy backhand. Driven by thick muscles, the ridge of his forearm came up under the warrior’s chin. Bone shattered and flesh, snagged by a spike, tore. The little warrior flew back a good three paces to slam into the ground. Geth turned sharply, arm outstretched, and another warrior went down, knocked off his feet by the momentum of his own charge.

  Snarling, Geth turned and plowed into the nearest knot of warriors, swinging with sword and gauntlet. He heard Breek screech and caught a glimpse of the eagle, finally freed from the threat of arrows and bolts, beating into the sky toward the strange herons that circled overhead. To one side of him, Dandra’s spear flashed and sparkled in the moonlight as she traded blows with a hunter. The kalashtar’s feet had left the ground once more; she floated as she fought, skimming and turning with a fluid grace.

  To his other side, there was a flare of flame and a burst of heat as fire leaped from Singe’s fingertips to engulf three of the charging hunters. Two screamed and stumbled back, beating charred clothing and skin. One went down and didn’t rise again.

  “Save your spells!” Geth howled at the wizard. “You’ll need them in Bull Hollow!”

  It was an empty warning—more hunters swarmed around Singe, pressing too close to allow him time to cast another spell. Singe drew his sword and plunged in among them. Geth found himself pressed as well. Wherever he turned, it seemed that a Bonetree hunter was waiting for him.

  A wavering call broke the chaos of combat, and the warriors around Geth drew back. A lone hunter stepped out of their ranks a half dozen paces away. Geth recognized him—the lean man with tattoos swarming up his arms, the hunter who had stood with Hruucan. Up close, he could see more. The man was clearly the oldest among the hunters. The hair that fell to his shoulders and sprinkled across his chest was gray. His face was lined, his gaze vague and slightly unfocused. He carried a fine sword, though, and he pointed it straight at Geth.

  “Weretouched! Beastling!” he called in a voice that was strangely accented, but clear. “You belong to Ner!” He flung himself forward with a mad howl.

  The hunters around him took up the battle cry. Geth growled deep in his throat, tightened his grip on his own sword, and leaped to meet him. He swung the heavy Karrnathi blade in a high, sweeping arc that would draw Ner’s defense up and leave him open for a fast punch from his gauntlet.

  Instead of trying to block the falling sword, Ner spun lightly out of the way. Geth found himself open and off-balance as Ner’s own sword slashed down. He flung himself down and rolled, barely getting his armored arm up in time to block the attack.

  Magewrought steel rang with the force of Ner’s blow and a jolt of pain shot through Geth’s arm. Ner gave him no respite, but rained blows down on him, each one sending numbing waves vibrating
through the gauntlet and Geth’s bones. The shifter struggled to scoot back and away. Ner stayed right on top of him. Geth’s lips drew back in alarm. If this was how the man fought when he was old, Geth wouldn’t have wanted to face him in his prime!

  He twisted and kicked out sharply, aiming for Ner’s knee. The hunter jumped back to avoid the blow. In the slim instant of that opening, Geth scrambled back to his feet. He swallowed a gulp of air and reached deep into himself, letting a shifting spread through him. Invincibility burned in his veins and across his skin. He hurled himself back at Ner with a growl. This time he ripped his sword low. Ner stopped the blow with his own sword, the two blades clashing together as the Bonetree hunter deftly slid Geth’s attack aside—then twisted his weapon free and brought it around to slice at Geth’s hip.

  The edge of the sword skated across his shifting-toughened hide, cutting cloth and creasing skin, but not drawing blood. Before Ner could pull back, Geth reached down and closed the fingers of his gauntleted hand around the shining blade. Ner tried to jerk the weapon away. Geth moved his body with the force of the hunter’s jerk, letting Ner pull him close. Shoving himself up on the balls of his feet, his entire weight behind him, he bashed his heavy-browed forehead into Ner’s face.

  The old hunter grunted and staggered back. Geth staggered a little, too—he could feel blood from some small cut starting to trickle down his face—but he managed to stomp after him, swinging his sword and jabbing with his gauntlet. Now Ner was on the defensive, forced to give ground and parry as Geth hacked at him. The other Bonetree warriors shouted and crushed in. The tall woman with the pierced lips loomed close, pushing her way through the press of hunters. She towered over them—and over Geth, too.

  “Get back!” he snarled, swinging his metal-sheathed arm wide. She rocked back in time to dodge it, but quickly moved forward again.

  Rage flared in Ner’s eyes. “Ashi!” he shouted at the big woman. “An atit!”

  The woman—Ashi—fell back. Ner’s sword rose high. Geth brought his gauntlet up to block it again, but the hunter dropped and spun around, lashing out with one leg to sweep Geth’s feet out from under him. The shifter hit the ground heavily. His breath exploded out of his lungs. Ner came back to his feet, whirled his sword around, and, for a moment, held it poised to strike.

  Before the fatal blow could fall, the ground under them shook hard, then rose and fell like a wave passing through water. Ner swayed. Many of the Bonetree hunters stumbled. In the shocked silence that followed, Geth could hear Adolan chanting.

  The soil of the clearing behind Ner and the other hunters heaved, groaned, and rose, rumbling into a thick column. No, Geth realized in shock, not a column. A body, one that towered three times the height of a tall man. Thick legs tore clear of the earth, arms of grinding stone swung free, and a gaping mouth opened in a rough and primal face as it let loose a savage bellow. An earth elemental!

  The thing’s voice was like an earthquake. The hunters, even Ner and Ashi, jerked like puppets as they fought to keep their balance. For a moment, Geth was glad he was already down. But only for a moment—with the speed of a landslide, the elemental swung its arms down at the fragile beings around its feet.

  A Bonetree hunter died on Geth’s left. Another died on his right. Over the crash of tumbling rock, Geth couldn’t even tell if they screamed. They were simply gone, buried abruptly under a cascade of stone that raised a choking cloud of dust and sent pebbles singing through the air. When the elemental’s fists rose, they left behind bodies that had been broken like crushed insects.

  The surviving hunters yelled and scattered. His challenge to Geth forgotten, Ner raised a hand to his mouth and gave a fluting call, then whirled and led the Bonetree savages in a stumbling, frantic retreat into the woods. Still on the ground, Geth stared at the flattened corpses of the elemental’s victims and scrambled to his feet. Blood streaked his bare left arm where flying shards from the stone monster’s attack had punctured even his tough skin. His hands curled tight—one around the hilt of his sword, the other inside a metal shell that felt all too delicate.

  The elemental was staring down at him.

  “Ado!” he croaked.

  The druid was beside him. “Easy, Geth!” he rasped. His voice was raw, strained by whatever magic he had summoned. “It’s the spirit of the Bull Hole!”

  “Twelve moons,” breathed Singe as he and Dandra joined them. The Aundairian’s side was bloodied and his face was coated in a sheen of sweat.

  In contrast, Dandra seemed almost fresh and relaxed. The only blood about her was what clung to her spear, staining the crystalline head and spattering the pale shaft. She tilted her head back and looked up at the elemental. “It’s trembling,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because it’s not here to fight the Bonetree hunters.” Forcing his voice deep into his chest, Adolan spoke a command in some primal, ponderous tongue that Geth didn’t recognize, but that tugged at his soul.

  The elemental let out another roar and turned by simply flexing its entire body so that its rugged back became its front. One massive leg swung forward, then the other, as the creature stomped away in the direction of Bull Hollow. “Follow it!” shouted Adolan. He raised his spear and charged after it. Dandra and Singe followed without hesitation, the kalashtar still darting through the air as the wizard stumbled over ground broken by the elemental’s passing.

  Geth glanced up at the sky. The smoke of Bull Hollow’s burning seemed to blot out half the night, the red of flames taking the place of moonlight. The shifter drew a ragged breath. Just like Narath …

  No, he reminded himself. Not like Narath. Not yet. Bull Hollow still had a chance. Sword held low, he ran to the fight.

  The effort of moving the stone, followed by the sudden, desperate fight against the Bonetree hunters, had taken more out of Dandra than she expected. It took an effort to will herself after Adolan and the elemental he had summoned from the Bull Hole—even so, she found the gentle force that held her feet above the ground faltering only halfway across the clearing. Abruptly, her feet were once more on the ground and she was stumbling. Singe was there, though, and caught her arm.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Just tired,” she told him. She pressed a hand to her forehead. She had a horrible feeling she knew why she was feeling so drained. Tetkashtai, she called silently, reaching in her mind through her connection to the crystal around her neck. Tetkashtai, I need you!

  The presence only held herself away, aloof and cold. Dandra shivered. Tetkashtai!

  “Dandra?” Singe asked again.

  She forced herself to stand straight, relying on the purely physical strength of her body. “I just need a moment to recover.”

  “I don’t think we have a moment,” Singe said. He was staring ahead of them. Dandra followed his gaze.

  As it approached the dark line of the trees ahead, the great earth elemental was shrinking with each lumbering step. No, Dandra realized, it wasn’t shrinking. It was sinking back into the ground as if walking down a flight of invisible stairs. In only moments, it was gone entirely. Geth caught up to them as they reached the edge of the forest. The knuckles of the hand that clutched his sword were white with tension. “Where did it go?” the shifter growled at Adolan.

  “The trees would only slow it down. It will travel underground to Bull Hollow. We’ll meet it there.” Adolan glanced up into the sky and whistled sharply. A moment later, Breek settled to the ground. The eagle’s beak and talons were stained dark with blood. He spread his wings and screeched as if in victory.

  Adolan nodded. “We don’t have to worry about the hunters’ herons at least.” He flicked his fingers at the fierce bird. “To Bull Hollow, Breek! On guard!”

  The eagle screeched again and leaped heavily back into the dark sky. Adolan gestured sharply with his spear and spoke a ringing word. Light—similar to the light that shone from Singe’s blade, but warm like fire where Singe’s was cold—blossomed around the spear’
s head. His gaze swept across them all. “Follow me,” he ordered. “Don’t fall behind.”

  The druid strode into the trees—directly into what seemed like the thickest of thorn bushes. There was no path where he had stepped. Dandra sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted to Geth. He bared his teeth. “Go!” he snarled.

  Dandra swallowed and plunged into the forest.

  There was a path, or at least a barely clear track of some kind. Adolan’s spear shone like a beacon. Dandra moved as quickly as she dared, staying close to his light. There was a rustling and Singe’s cool steady light flashed briefly. She risked a glance over her shoulder. The wizard was right behind her and Geth, moving like a ghost, right behind him.

  “Keep with me!” said Adolan. Dandra hastened to catch up and, in the shadows, stumbled again. Once more, Singe caught her.

  “Stay close,” he whispered. He lifted his rapier high to spread its light around.

  At the very dimmest edge of the magical illumination, a face pierced with two hoops through its lower lips flashed pale, then vanished. In the yellow-green crystal, Tetkashtai flinched in fear. Dandra gasped and called out, “Adolan, the Bonetree!”

  With the elemental’s disappearance, the hunters had recovered their nerve—and with her warning, there was no need for them to remain hidden. The darkness exploded with the sound of bodies crashing through the brush to either side of them. Dandra raised her spear, Singe his rapier, and Geth his vicious gauntlet, instinctively putting their backs together to meet the attack. Adolan was faster than all three of them, though. Light and shadows whirled as he spun around and Dandra caught a glimpse of him throwing his head back to let out an undulating chant that was half words and half wild howl.

  The sound of it made goose bumps on her skin and all around them, the forest seemed to stir in response to the druid’s call. To their left, the night shifted, contracting for a moment, then opening wide.