by Pedro Urvi
Silence reigned in the night.
The eastern garden was deserted.
The two friends crossed the courtyard at a crouching run under the cover of darkness. In search of shadows, they stopped against the wall of the great central building of white stone. A sound at their backs alarmed them, and they hid behind two tall leafy bushes beside the wall. They had to enter the luxurious residence undetected, or else Kayti’s plan would not work.
A new guard appeared from the northern wing, walking quickly south to the entrance. Here a heated exchange was taking place. When he passed in front of the bush, two strong arms emerged from the shadows and abducted the guard without giving him the chance to cry out in surprise. He disappeared, and was not seen again.
After hiding the body, the two intruders went toward the rear of the small palace to the north, where two rows of tall limestone columns gave a grander, more lordly aspect to the house. Komir counted at least six men guarding the entrance: too many to take on without raising the alarm.
They retraced their steps to the eastern side of the building, looking for some possibility of access from the second floor. They would have to try getting inside from above. Komir signaled to Hartz to stay hidden, then began to climb the wall with the aid of a thick vine. He went up with great difficulty, using the plant for support. On the second floor of the building he lost his foothold.
Komir began to fall.
His stomach came into his throat, and he was filled with a horrible sense of emptiness.
Hartz, watching from the ground, let out a muffled cry.
At the last moment Komir managed to grab the vine again with the fingertips of his right hand, cutting short his fall with a dry thump of his body against the wall. He managed to bear the blow without letting go, and regained his calm. He took a deep breath and renewed his climb with the utmost care so as not to fall again.
When he finally reached the second floor he crouched down on the ledge and began to crawl carefully, not looking down, deliberately ignoring the risk of falling from that height. He managed to reach a balcony on the second floor, then unsheathed his long hunting knife and forced open the lock, muffling the sound as best he could to avoid attracting attention. A few moments later an improvised rope made out of luxurious sheets and curtains came down to Hartz like a multicolored silken snake.
Meanwhile, already inside the residence, Lotas, with Kayti and Lindaro close behind, was walking into the great library of the manor following the old servant. They were surrounded by six men of Guzmik’s personal guard, their faces rough and expectant, their swords unsheathed and ready.
“Wait here,” the old servant threatened, jabbing his finger at Lotas. “Whatever you’re selling had better be to my lord’s liking, because if not, you’ll suffer a painful death tonight.” He looked at his guards and said, “Watch them closely. If any of them makes the least noise, kill them all.” Then he left the room and went upstairs to the second floor.
Kayti evaluated the situation. The plan had better work perfectly, as the possibilities of coming out of that mansion alive were dwindling by the moment. She and Lotas would not be able to deal with the six guards.
After entering through the balcony, Komir went to the door of the room which led to the outer hall of the second floor. He opened it, not more than two fingers wide, and checked the long corridor. Two men in black and yellow were on guard in the middle of the wide passage, which was luxuriously ornamented and inadequately lit by two small oil lamps. There were no more than ten paces between the door and the guards. Komir closed the door carefully, but unexpectedly it gave a telltale creak.
Komir froze where he stood, his hand on the doorknob.
Hartz looked at him with eyes full of doubt.
Komir reacted and pointed to the enormous oak bed. At the same time he ran to the balcony. In a flash the door to the room opened wide, and the two guards entered with their weapons out. The first carried an oil lamp in one hand and a short sword in the other. The second stood beside him, using both hands to wield a long sword. To the left, against the wall, was a large finely-worked cupboard, with the oak bed and the balcony at the end. To the right was a long dressing table with an oval mirror and a vividly-embroidered armchair. The guards went to the cupboard and opened it abruptly, clearly intending to skewer whoever was inside.
But it was empty.
They went to the bed and rounded it in a leap.
Nobody was hiding behind it.
The guard with the oil lamp bent down to shine a light under the bed.
Hartz could see the guard’s feet. He could smell danger. He felt his heart pumping in his chest, without being able to do anything to calm it. For a second he trusted to luck, hoping the unwelcome figure would forget about looking under the bed, but the man suddenly stooped.
And discovered the huge Norriel!
Hartz’s body was brightly-lit. The guard with the long sword bent over to strike him. He stretched his arms back, to give impetus to the lethal thrust. But at that moment Komir leapt from the balcony to appear behind the guard, and hit him on the nape of his neck with his sword-butt. The guard fell unconscious on the wooden floor. His partner turned in alarm, ready to strike Komir. But then a massive foot came out from under the bed and swept the guard off his balance. He fell backwards and dropped the oil lamp, which immediately went out. Before he could recover, Komir landed two hard punches on him, which knocked him senseless.
A few moments later the two Norriel were running stealthily along the corridor as if spectral dogs were chasing them. They went to the rooms at the end of the hall and searched them, but without success. They went through all the rooms at that level, but with one exception they were all bedrooms and all empty. The exception was Guzmik’s office, although unfortunately he was not there. Cursing their bad luck, Komir stopped to think. The critical point in Kayti’s plan was to catch Guzmik unawares in either his bedroom or his office, and they had failed to accomplish this. Most probably he would be on the third floor. Kayti had explained to them that it was quite uncommon for wealthy people to use the third floor in that type of luxurious dwelling, given the number of stairs they would have to go up every day. Unfortunately this seemed to be the case here, and it was something they had not counted on. The problem was that if they went up those stairs they would surely come across guards there who would give the alarm.
The building was very well protected, too much so in fact. On the other hand, their friends would be in a pretty tough situation on the floor below. Time was running out. Komir knew he had to make a decision, and he was not at all clear what the best option would be.
In the library, Kayti watched their captors. The six guards carried short swords and daggers. They wore padded leather armor over their yellow tunics and high boots over black leather leggings, also padded. They were prepared for fighting in confined places, launching short strokes with their swords and stabbing with their daggers. They were facing hardened men with brutish faces: there was not a single young novice among them. They were probably mercenaries, well paid for their work. They were standing in a semicircle with their backs to the entrance, keeping them cornered at the far end of the library. There was no possible escape. The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, and she was aware that before long Lotas would betray her. Lindaro remained at her side, looking serious and trying to hide his fear, although a few drops of sweat shone on his pale forehead.
A shadow at the door caught Kayti’s attention. She looked again and recognized Hartz’ forehead and big brown eyes, which appeared for a single moment behind the door and then disappeared again. Seeing the big Norriel’s eyes filled her with joy, a hopeful joy which made her feel secure despite the uncertainty of the situation. Most definitely that young giant had a strange and contradictory effect on her. One moment he filled her with fury, the next with surprising happiness. She could not understand why. But what was important was that he was there, ready to help her. It was time to
act. Their plan must not have worked, or else Hartz would not have been there.
So she would act.
With an almost lethargic movement of her arms, which immediately alerted the six guards, she reached for the hood on her head and slowly removed it to reveal her feminine face. With studied calculation she shook her red mane, capturing the attention of the six men. Surprised to find it was a woman, and one of such fiery beauty, the men remained dumbstruck for a moment. Time which turned out to be crucial. Taking advantage of the distraction, Hartz came up behind them wielding his enormous bewitched sword, like the personification of some terrifying vision of destruction. With a single stroke the Norriel killed two of the soldiers on the right, cutting their backs open from side to side. While the other four turned in astonishment at the surprise attack, Hartz picked up a long-sword with his left hand and threw it in the air towards Kayti.
“Alarm! We’re under attack!” one of the guards yelled.
“Guards, to me! To me, Guards!” cried another as he lunged at Hartz.
Kayti lifted her arm and caught the sword in mid-flight, seizing it by the pommel. On her left, Lindaro threw himself on the floor under a table to get away from the guard who had launched an attack on him. Without a moment’s hesitation Kayti lunged at the soldier, to protect the cleric. On her right, Lotas bent to take out two long daggers hidden in his riding boots. One of the guards aimed a stroke at Hartz. The Norriel managed to dodge it, although he could not avoid a superficial cut. Kayti aimed a thrust at the head of her opponent, but he deflected it with his short sword. With a nimble leap the guard tried to sink his dagger in her neck, but Kayti deflected it with her forearm. The scaled armor under her cape protected her against most cuts. It took great strength to penetrate it but the neck, being uncovered, was always in danger. Kayti went on to sink her sword into the stomach of the guard. Looking ahead, she saw Hartz dispatching his second opponent with ease, skewering him with a powerful double-hand stroke, leaving a track of blood at the foot of the door. Kayti turned towards Lotas. She found him by the lifeless body of another guard, calmly cleaning his daggers on the corpse’s clothes.
Silence fell on the library.
“Is it over?” Lindaro asked in a trembling voice from under the table, where he had hidden like a frightened mole in its lair.
Lotas smiled evilly. “I’m afraid not. There’ll be more on the way. They’ve given the alarm.”
“He’s right,” said Kayti. “We’d better get ready for the next attack.”
“Don’t you worry, little wildcat,” Hartz’s voice said cheerfully. “I’m here to defend you. Today blood will run through this house and ruthless night will swallow up the souls of these fools. Igrali will shut her eyes so as not see the savage acts of her Norriel son.”
The giant took hold of the two-handed sword and placed himself in the center of the library, waiting for the attack which was sure to come.
The rumble of a dozen running boots reached them.
“Come on then, you wretches, meet your fate!”
Green skin and clouds
Kendas bent down to inspect the footprints. He was in no way a tracker, but his father had taught him the principles of that difficult art at the farm where he had been born. “Following footprints, either of an animal or a person, requires great skill.” So he had been told when he was no more than a brat, in the middle of the tall forest north of the farm. His father had taken him there to reveal to him the mysteries and secrets of the art of identifying and recognizing the prints and tracks which both a person and an animal leave in their passage through forest and brush. His father was an enthusiast on the subject, although less so of hunting, which was a little paradoxical. But his father was like that, not only in this but in many other aspects of life as well: a peculiar farmer, fond of studying, and an enemy of bloodshed. Kendas, on the other hand, had never been particularly interested in the matter, perhaps because the first track his father taught him to follow had been that of a skunk, and to this day he could still recall the stench. He had to admit, though, that those teachings had been useful on more than one occasion, such as the one he found himself in at the moment.
The trail he followed was not recent, of that he was sure. It was at least three days since Aliana had stopped there. But what worried the Rogdonian Lancer were the other tracks he had discovered very near the Healer’s: Usik footprints, half a dozen men, following her. Unfortunately they were some way ahead, so that he had no way of warning her of the danger behind her. Kendas punched the air and cursed under his breath; he had been so close to catching up with her at first, when the river had taken her. He had galloped down-river on his powerful Lightning and come very close to the Healer, who was being dragged away by the force of the current. But just when he was about to grab her, she slipped between his fingers down the great waterfall.
He could not believe his miserable luck. He had almost had her, one step closer and he would have caught her and saved her from the turbulent river. The two of them would have been on their way to Rilentor by now. The waterfall had swallowed the girl and Kendas had had to let Lightning go, sending him on up-river while he continued his rescue mission in the deep forest. It had taken him three days to make his way round the enormous precipice and find the Healer’s trail again. Not only was the geography complicated, but the appearance of the Usik had not made things any easier.
He looked down at his clothes. He was camouflaged by the leather garments of a Red Usik he had surprised two days back. He had painted his face red, imitating those savages, with the sandy paint he had found in a little pouch the strange green-skinned wild man carried at his waist. He had also taken his bow and axe, leaving behind his Rogdonian sword to avoid discovery. The ruse had already been successful once: a trusting Usik had approached him, speaking in that strange sing-song language. Before the man could realize the deceit, Kendas had turned and driven an arrow into his heart. The Usik had died with an expression of surprise and horror on his face. The only thing he could not hide completely was the pallor of his arms and legs, which his attire only half-covered: a loincloth of animal skin and a leather shirt reinforced with bones and wood. So he had smeared his limbs with mud and moss.
He went on, alert, following the trail to the northeast. Aliana must have been totally disoriented, because she was heading deeper into the thick, endless forest. Or perhaps she had no other option, perhaps circumstances were forcing her to go in that direction, which was a possibility if she was being chased. In any case she was heading into the heart of that infinite forest, with the growing danger that involved. Kendas had to make haste, they were too far ahead. If he did not reach her soon, Aliana would be lost.
I must find her and get her out of this eternal forest.
Aliana woke up with a terrible headache.
She was swaying.
She could not understand what was going on, the reason for the movement and the dizziness she was feeling. Her head was hanging backwards, and her body swaying as if suspended in the air. She looked up, still rather unclearly, and saw that her hands and feet were tied to a thick branch from which she was hanging. She could see a Usik shoulder at each end of the branch. She was being carried by two of them, like a hunted deer.
The Usik have captured me! Oh no! They’re going to kill me!
She tried to control the panic that was suffocating her like a giant snake coiled around her body. She was in a truly desperate situation, she had to recover her poise, calm the rampant beating of her heart and get her nerves under control. She looked around. The Usik were walking on deeper into the forest, chatting animatedly, not paying the slightest attention, totally unconcerned about her. She could make out half a dozen of them. Her head was about to burst with pain, she had been hit hard. She searched within herself for her healing energy and focused it on the point where the pain was sharpest. After a moment the pain had almost gone.
Aliana sighed, a bruise on the back of her head was not too serious. Once the
pain faded she began to feel better. Those Usik had not wanted her dead. She had no idea why, but at least she was alive. She did not know why she was being carried like the spoils of a hunt. Maybe that was what she represented as far as those savages were concerned.
Nervous tension made her ask, unthinkingly: “Where are you taking me? What do you want of me?”
The six savages stopped at once at the sound of her voice.
This made Aliana shiver. It seemed to her that she had just made a mistake.
They all looked at her frowning, their faces sullen. One of them came near and without a word kicked her hard in the ribs.
She twisted with pain. But she said nothing, not a single word.
Satisfied, the six men set out once again.
Aliana had understood with absolute clarity that she would not be allowed to speak. So she concentrated her healing energy on her ribs, and the pain subsided gradually.
The Usik walked on all day until nightfall. Then they made a fire, but with such unusual care that it caught her attention. It took them at least five times as long as a group of travelers would have needed to prepare and light a camp fire for the night. Simply selecting where to make it had taken an eternity. For some reason the site for the fire was very important to these barbaric individuals. Having witnessed the preparations, Aliana noticed that they had chosen a clearing and swept the leaves and deadwood away, cleaning it surprisingly carefully. The fire was the same distance from the trees in all directions. They carefully placed stones around a hole which they dug in the ground for the wood they would use to make the fire.
They take extreme precautions so as not to start a wild fire, that’s what they’ve been doing. They clean the clearing of any leaves and branches which might start an accidental fire, and they’ve chosen the exact point where to build it so it’s the same distance from all the trees, as far as possible from any of them. It’s truly fascinating, considering they’re just a bunch of bloodthirsty barbarians.
