by JANRAE FRANK
Juldrid curled into a fetal ball, sobbing.
"It's all right now, Juldrid," Margren said, stroking her head gently as if nothing terrible had happened. Then Margren kissed her hair and followed Mephistis out.
* * * *
Talons flicked her cloak of darkness around her, fading back beneath the pine shadows. Her heart hammered in her chest, pulse racing, breathing labored: She saw with the intense clarity of adrenaline flooding her system; every nerve and muscle ready to move instantly. She could hear her pursuit beating the bushes, trying to drive her out into the sunlit open where her cloak would be ineffectual. She dropped into a crouch, hearing someone approach from her left. A pair of black-clad legs went past her, paused. Talons checked. He was alone. She rose, coming silently behind and slightly to the side. With a thought she summoned the tigers-claws to her hands. Her first slashing attack took out his throat; he would not be calling for help. He staggered back, hands to his throat, making gurgling noises. She opened him up from breastbone to groin, catching him as he fell. She lowered him silently to earth. Except for the dragon and rowans charm around his neck, he wore no livery. She snapped the charm free, slipping it in her pocket.
Talons had seven of them now, more than enough proof that something dark and dangerous was happening on Dragonshead. She had not found the entrance to the chambers beneath, but after a day of searching they had found her. Now she had to get off the bluffs alive. She moved quickly down the overgrown path, back the way her pursuer had come, moving lightly, soundlessly on the balls of her feet, pausing repeatedly to listen.
Time was of the essence: she had overheard two stone trolls talking and knew that Wilstryn's plan to have Laeoli run away had been discovered by the enemy. There was a traitor in Wilstryn's ranks. Worse, when Ladonys and Laeoli rode to the hunt on the morrow, they would both die and Wilstryn with them, unless Talons could get off the bluffs and intercept them in time.
She could see the red-veined outcropping of gray stone marking the entrance to a narrow defile that Wilstryn's eldest daughters had mapped on their earlier reconnaissance searching for Sohkoran. It narrowed until a single person could barely squeeze through. It was there they had found his body. Laeth Hornbow had barely gotten through it and she was far more slender than Talons. The assassin hesitated, wondering whether to try it or attempt to cross the open again, making for a hunter's trace she had found a day ago.
A long howling began behind her, coming swiftly on. Gods in Hell! They had brought out the hounds. Her decision was made for her. Talons leaped, rolling into the stone mouth. She came to her feet, blades in hand drawn from her bandoleer. She scampered down the defile, moving as quickly as she could despite a broad carpeting of loose stones. The stone shifted and scraped beneath her feet, loose stones rattling down the steep path. "No way in hell to move silently," she muttered, grimly consoling herself with the knowledge that they would have to come at her one at a time and they would die one at a time.
She worked her way past a jutting edge of blade sharp stone. A rock turned under her foot, throwing her forward. She threw out her hands to save her face and a sharp fragment sliced her leathers, leaving a long gash down her right arm. "Gods shitting pig-cunts," Talons cursed, pulling a clean handkerchief from inside her tunic to quickly bind the cut without pausing in her retreat. There were bits of stone all through the wound, but she would have to pick them out later, praying it didn't infect.
The howling neared. Talons looked up to see the first hellhound racing toward her. She threw her blades. The first slender missile caught it in the shoulder, but the second entered its eye, driving deep into the creature's brain. Talons turned, moving as quickly as the narrowing stone walls would allow.
Again stones turned and she staggered, falling, this time into something soft and wet. Rancid odors assailed her, the smell of death. Maggots swarmed the rotted flesh inches from her nose. Talons came stumbling to her feet, her stomach heaving, bits of rotted flesh clinging to her, covering her in nightmarish filth. She glanced back, hearing the next hound coming on. "Gods in Haven," she muttered. rotting recent dead carpeted the defile. "Must be over a hundred..." She could stand and fight or wade through a sea of rotted flesh swimming with maggots.
The second hound slammed her in the back, knocking her face down into the filth. She twisted, rolling, bringing her claws into play. Teeth closed on her left shoulder, biting through her leathers. Her first swipe took out it eyes and her second its throat all in a single heartbeat. She threw the carcass off, rising again to jog through the corruption. Several times, her gorge rose and she felt an urge to vomit, forcing it down again. Talons had killed many myn in her short years, but they had all been clean kills, in and then out again, never looking back at the aftermath of mortality.
The throbbing pain of her wounds cleared her head, forcing her to focus on escape, on taking that next step, leaving her no space for morbid musings. She could see that narrowest spot that Laeth Hornbow had written of in her notes. Talons slowed as she reached it, knowing at a glance that she was trapped: even if she stripped naked, she could not squeeze through. She scanned the walls. The gap widened near the top. She pressed her hands and back against the wall, then braced one foot and then the next against the opposite wall. She walked up the wall. When she reached a wide enough spot, she placed her feet on opposite sides of the cliff faces, moving now crab like above the narrows.
The setting sun offered her hope; for once it set, her cloak of darkness would hide her from pursuit. But her attackers did not give her that chance. Arrows flew about her. One struck her in the back, just below her left shoulder blade. She lost her grip, sliding and falling down, scrabbling at the rocks. She summoned her claws, scratching for small holds that slowed her fall a bit. Then she slipped again, twisting. Her back struck the wall, breaking the long shaft off and turning the head in her wound. Consciousness grayed out. She hit the bottom hard.
Strong hands gripped her, lifting her with a blade at her throat. A lantern was briefly unshielded and a familiar face looked into hers. "Talons?"
The knife was withdrawn, sheathed. "Talons?" The voice queried again, "Come on, kid, we gotta get out of here."
"We've wired it, Ma'aram," came a young girl's voice out of the darkness.
"You got the fuse lit, Lizard?" Birdie called.
"Uh huh."
Blackbird chuckled, "Knew those blasting powders would come in handy one day. Dwarves send things off with a bang. 'Bout two, three times as strong as Iradrim Fire. You've seen that blow." She shouldered Talons' weight with her good arm. "Lizard, Arruth, Jysy, I need some help, she's heavy. We gotta get outta here."
Each of the larger youths grabbed a limb, lifting Talons from every corner. They rushed around a nearby bend in the defile, crouching down and pressing against the wall. A tremendous roar filled the night as the entire defile shuddered and exploded. Rocks showered them, punctuated by screams of anguish and agony coming from back the way Talons had come.
The lantern was unshuttered again, lowered closer to Talons' face. One of the children lifted her head up as another brought a flask to her lips. Talons drank gratefully, tasting the sweetness of holadil mixed with other things she did not recognize. Her pain eased enough for her to speak and she poured it all out to Blackbird, knowing her for an ally.
Blackbird nodded. "You got shifter troubles. We got one," she said, lifting a severed head from a bag. "If the kids'er right, ya got two more to deal with."
"Ladonys..."
"Don't know what to do about that. Urchins and I'll figure something out. I don't let people take out my friends."
Talons sighed, slipping into the darkness.
* * * *
"The wynderjyns rejected me," Margren said, sipping at her wine.
They sat in a small parlor. Heavy dark drapes, red-black like dried blood, closed out the midday sun. The delicately carved, high-backed chairs of imported ebony wood added to the feeling of darkness and stifling closeness. Juldrid
, just weeks pregnant with Margren's child ached for sunlight. She remembered the days when Margren loved the sunlight as much as she; the ache grew keen and Juldrid wanted to weep. Mephistis Coleth, the child's sire, sat close beside her, reaching out now and again to stroke her. Juldrid shuddered, balling up. With Margren's help, he had raped her again on several more occasions. Finally Margren had removed the locks on Juldrid's bedchamber, giving him access whenever he wished, whether Margren was present or not.
More and more since Margren brought her to Dragonshead, her love for Margren had disappeared in her growing terror of the things Margren did there. Juldrid had been a minstrel's young, talented apprentice at Kaethreyn's court, gentle, and naïve, when she and Margren fell in love. The first four years had been intense and wonderful; then Margren encountered Mephistis and discovered the secrets of Dragonshead.
Juldrid had heard the story many times before, yet an expression of pained sympathy filled her delicate face. Juldrid's black hair, a heavy mass of long undisciplined ringlets, hung loose past her shoulders; a silver filigree circlet holding it back from her light bronze face. Her narrow face and fragile features were almost sylvan. Her eyes were large, black, and long-lashed.
"I had gone to the valley every summer since I was seven," Margren said, "and always something strange happened to cause them to reject me. Sometimes I didn't even get to leave the houses to try to bond. I cannot begin to go into the list of strange coincidences that prevented me from even gaining access to the yearlings. Finally, when I was twelve, His Holiness Sonden agreed to give me a last try.
"I could hear the yearling calling to me. It woke me from my sleep. I went out into the woods and found it tangled in netting. It was frightened. I drew my knife intending to cut it loose. Then two things happened. My sister, Aejys appeared out of nowhere. I suspect that she followed me to prevent my bonding. She knocked me down just as I was about to get the yearling free and when I got loose from her it was gone. I was heart broken and hysterical, knowing I would never be given another chance. But Aejys was not content. She struck me again and I cut her. I cut her several times to prevent her hurting me and then I fled. She convinced the bradae that I was not fit even for the knighthood and they sent me home in utter disgrace. I knew then that I would never be allowed to be whole or happy so long as Aejys lived. My sister would never allow it."
Mephistis leaned toward Margren, grasping her hand comfortingly. "She will never hurt you again, my heart, I – we will see to that."
Juldrid shivered again. She had never really known Aejys. First Aejys had been gone to the war. Then she was wounded and brought home to die from the death magic of the baneblades that had cut her. But she had lived through the efforts of a young lifemage and High Priest Sonden, one of the greatest Readers Shaurone had ever produced. Aejys did not stay to finish healing; fleeing with Tagalong Smith to parts unknown – until recently. The more frightened Juldrid grew of Margren, the more she wondered about Aejys.
* * * *
Talons woke in a small space surrounded by skillfully constructed blinds woven of fresh cut evergreens. A rough deer hide blanket covered her. Her good arm lay at her side, her wounded left resting in a crude sling atop the blanket. She looked up into the early morning sun thrusting sharp lances through partings in the branches, then around her, taking in the small enclosure. The remnant of a fire glowed in a rock-framed circle. Several packs, some leather, others canvas, lay along the west side.
A child's genderless face poked through a parting in the blinds. "Ma'aram! She's awake."
"So she is, Tomlyn." Blackbird pushed the child aside, slipping into the blind. The crippled woman bent over Talons, producing a flask.
"Holadil mostly," Blackbird answered Talons' questioning glance.
Talons shook her head. "Don't want it." She fumbled around, finding a small packet and silver tube in a pocket on her left side. Blackbird, seeing her start to sit up, set the holadil aside, putting her good arm to help her.
"That what I think it is?" asked the retired knight suspiciously.
"Amphereon." Talons laid out a line of finely ground blue crystals and snorted it. A wave of energy hit her system, dismissing all the pain and focusing her.
"You're gonna pay a price when you come down. Do it much?"
"No."
"Think you oughta? You lost a lot of blood back there."
"No choice. Ladonys is going to die if I don't get there in time." Talons crawled out of the blind behind Blackbird.
Fifteen children, ranging in age from sixteen to maybe eight or nine years old stood a few yards off, regarding Talons with interest. Blackbird waved her hand at them, "My clan. We're going with you."
"That's not wise," Talons said. "We don't know what kind of assault they're mounting.
"We're up to it, aren't we, my brave ones?"
A chorus of "yes" went up from the children. Talons noticed then that every one of them was armed to the teeth with swords, daggers, slings and bows; and thinking back to the explosion in the defile, probably some things she had never encountered before.
Talons set off at a strong jog toward the hunting lodge Ladonys maintained near the Arris River. Blackbird and the children paced her easily, even the smallest.
* * * *
Wilstryn dismounted from her horse, a big shaggy brown beast. She moved with an easy elegance that tended to make people forget about the imperfections of her storkish looks. "Hello."
Laeoli nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected sound of Wilstryn's voice. The girl had her foot on the carcass of a slain deer preparing to retrieve her arrows. Ladonys had drawn a long hunting knife and just dropped to her knees to begin cleaning the beast.
Ladonys sheathed the knife.
"She's almost on her way."
"Then I don't have to run away," said Laeoli, relieved.
Wilstryn turned to the girl, "No. It is all the more urgent that you run away. Now. We must keep you alive until your ma'aram gets here. Margren, seeing Aejys coming, could decide to kill you now. I would if I were her."
"Give me your shirt, Laeoli," Ladonys said.
Laeoli obeyed.
"Steel yourself, child." She took Laeoli's arm and opened a shallow graze with her knife. The youth's arm bled freely. Then Wilstryn had Laeoli lay down. She dragged her, making a bloody trail, to a nearby stream.
As the trio walked back, Wilstryn extended the reins of her horse to Laeoli. "There are plenty of supplies to get you through. There is a small abandoned miners hut on the Doronar side of the south pass above Armaten. I'll meet you there."
Laeoli had her foot in the stirrup when a loud roaring came from the trees. The horse bolted, throwing Laeoli and dragging her several feet before she managed to get her sword out and slash the stirrup away. She gained her feet and turned, her blood running cold at the sight of four gigantic grizzlies charging them.
She reached for her bow before she thought: she had left it behind, lying on the ground beside the slain deer. Laeoli ran toward her 'lasah and Wilstryn, prepared to face death beside them.
Ladonys drew her sword and pulled her axe from her belt, letting them come to her while Wilstryn calmly aimed and shot, putting clothyard shaft after shaft into a single bear. The ha'taren's wynderjyn pawed the ground anxiously. Ladonys shook her head. "Too many."
Desperate need formed a wordless command in the core of Ladonys' being and raced down the deep intuitive bond between them: Run. Bring others.
The animal gave a shrill protest and headed for Castle Rowan.
Wilstryn put one through the bear's eye three yards off and it staggered to a weaving halt within easy reach of her. The assassin stepped back out of reach of its claws, looking for another target.
Laeoli tried to stay sword's length from the ripping claws, but the beast was too swift. She cut it twice in the forelegs before the claws tore her, opening her side from breast to hip. Even as she lost consciousness, falling into the water, she lodged her sword deep beneath th
e beast's breast.
The swift waters washed her away, face down, unmoving. Ladonys saw and cried out, faltering in her grief. The bear's claws caught her shoulders, laying her back open to the waist. Ladonys pivoted, cleaving the beast's skull with her axe. But even as she and the bear fell together, the third was on her, tearing her face and limbs.
Wilstryn retreated as far as the water. She had a single arrow left and let it fly. It took the fourth bear, the one that had slain her godchild, in the shoulder. She drew her sword and dagger, standing firm and waiting to meet its attack. "Come and get me," she snarled. The beast's claws ripped her breasts and tore open her stomach as she drove her blade through its heart. Wilstryn staggered back, the bear falling at her feet as she fell dying across it.
* * * *
Talons broke from the forest cover onto a small hillcrest only to watch in horror as they fell. A grim, hard look came on her face as cold anger seized her. She drew her wounded arm out of the sling; even without drugs she was far past pain and feeling. She summoned her claws, starting down the hill with a long stride. Blackbird jogged after her, catching at her arm. Talons swung to face her in silence.
"This is a war," Blackbird said. "You never been in one, have you?"
Talons shook her head, remembering how hard she had pleaded with the Grand Master to let her fight. But he had kept her home, sending her out now and again for special, delicate, or complex killings and always on the far side of the Merezian continent from the war. She was Takhalme Gee's only surviving great grandchild from the Sharani ha'taren who had been his first and greatest love.
"Then I'm in charge. Not much of a fighter these days." Blackbird indicated her lifeless right arm. "But I'm a hell of a campaigner."
She signed the children, who instantly responded by forming a three-tiered skirmish line with the youngest ones in the rear and the oldest in the front. Then they started down the hill.
"Doesn't seem to be but one bear left. Lizard, get his attention."
