Klendist snorted, insulted. “As if they could. So His Lordship didn’t send them here?”
“No,” said Shakur, after a moment’s pause, “he did not.”
“Want us to kill them?” Klendist offered. “Won’t take long. We can do it before we leave in the morning.”
“You will leave now, Klendist,” said Shakur coldly. “Summon your men. There is no time to waste. As for the taan, they are of no consequence. You have your orders.”
Turning his horse’s head, Shakur rode off, the horse’s hooves kicking up chunks of frozen ground. He rode toward the north.
“No consequence, eh?” Klendist chuckled. Then he growled. “An all-night ride for us, after being in the saddle most of the day. The boys will not be happy. Still, when there’s His Lordship’s reward in the offing—”
Tucking the scrollcase carefully into the breast of his tunic, Klendist turned his horse’s head back in the direction from which he’d come.
Ulaf shoved himself away from the rocks and began to hobble on his half-frozen feet toward where he’d left his horse. The pain of the returning circulation was agony, and he stifled a groan. He spent a moment deciding what he was to do, but only a moment. Mounting his horse, he rode off after Jessan.
Ulaf was not worried about locating the Trevinici. He figured that Jessan would be the one to find him and he was right. Ulaf had ridden about five miles west of the crossroads when Jessan stepped out of the shadows of the woods and stood in front of him. Ulaf brought his horse to a halt.
The on-again, off-again clouds had vanished for good. The night was brightened by the light of a three-quarter moon shining on the snow. The fir trees cast eerie moon-shadows in stripes across the road.
“It was a Vrykyl,” Ulaf reported, leaning over his horse’s neck. “But it’s not following you. The fiend was here to meet with a mercenary captain, a man named Klendist. He and his men will be riding this way shortly. They’re bound for a rogue Portal. I’m going to follow them to discover the location of the Portal’s entrance. I need for you to ride back up the road to Mardurar, alert Shadamehr’s people. Tell them to ride after me. I’ll wait for them at the Portal. You’ll have to make haste. Unfasten the litter and leave it by the roadside. The Grandmother can stay here with Bashae’s body while you’re gone.”
“What is wrong?” Jessan asked. “What did you hear?”
“The baron and Damra are walking into a trap. I’ve got to try to find them and warn them.”
Ulaf smiled grimly. “The Vrykyl said that the Void was working with them. It wasn’t the Void brought me to that crossroads in time to hear what they were plotting—”
A stone struck Ulaf in the chest with such force that it knocked him backward off the horse. He was wearing a thick leather vest and a heavy fur-lined sheepskin coat, or the blow might well have stopped his heart. As it was, he lay stunned in the road, unable to move or to react as two figures, dark against the moonlit sky, bent over him.
Lips parted in a horrible grin. Sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight. A fist struck him on the jaw, and Ulaf went limp.
The Grandmother screeched a warning. Jessan grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw his weapon, strong hands seized hold of him, pinned his arms to his side. A bestial face loomed in front of him, leered at him.
Jessan smashed his head into the taan’s forehead.
The taan let loose and toppled backward. Jessan drew his sword, turned to face his attackers. The Grandmother’s screeching abruptly ceased. Two taan stood crouched in a defensive stance, both eyeing Jessan, waiting for him to make the first move. He swung his sword and started to leap forward.
A blow struck him from behind. His brain seemed to explode with pain, but he fought it off, kept upright. He tried to turn to deal with this new menace, but another blow fell, and Jessan slumped into the snow.
The taan stood looking down at him and, although he would never know it, they paid him the ultimate compliment.
“Strong food,” said one.
THE LEADER OF THE SMALL BAND OF TAAN WAS TASH-KET, A TAAN scout whose exploits had already made him a legend among his people. None of his achievements equaled this, however. He had crossed a continent teeming with his enemies, located a strange city in a strange land, entered that city unseen, and made off with the prize he’d been sent to acquire.
He and his fellow scouts had found their way with the aid of an excellent map, provided by Dagnarus, though he did not know it. The taan had also reluctantly relied on the help of a half-taan named Kralt. The taan would never have lowered themselves to travel in company with a half-taan, but Derl had ordered them to do so, telling them that they would find Kralt useful. More human-looking than most half-taan, Kralt had proven his worth. He was able to disguise himself well enough to enter human towns and gather information.
Having stolen the “lightning rock” K’let had sent him to acquire from the dwarves, Tash-ket and his troop made their way back across Vinnengael to the rendezvous point, the town of Mardurar, where they were to meet up with K’let. The taan had arrived first. Tash-ket had been here for several weeks with orders to lie low and do nothing that might give away his presence. Tash-ket obeyed those orders—to a certain extent.
The taan scout is a unique individual. Sent out ahead of the tribe by the nizam to search for game, enemies, and good camping grounds, the taan scout lives an isolated and solitary existence and is expected to think and act on his own. Thus he tends to develop an independence not usually found among the majority of taan.
Tash-ket revered K’let and obeyed orders as far as the scout ever obeyed any orders. Tash-ket followed those he agreed with and ignored those he did not. Having been holed up in this godsforsaken wilderness for weeks on end, forced to endure the wet, cold slop that fell from the skies and covered the ground with white, Tash-ket grew bored and extremely hungry. Both prompted him to ignore the order to lie low.
Tash-ket and his band had arrived in the forests of Mardurar to find the woods almost denuded of game animals. They came across the occasional deer or rabbit or goat, but the taan considered those animals weak food. Tash-ket needed strong food, needed it to start the sluggish blood pumping through his veins and bring the fire back to his belly and his heart. His companions needed strong food as much as he did.
Tash-ket did not see the harm in attacking a small party of humans in order to assuage his appetite. His attack was well planned. He and his fellow scouts struck at night, when no one would be around. Once they had brought down their prey—one of whom fought well, which was extremely gratifying—the taan dragged them far off the road, so that their remains would not be discovered.
Tash-ket was pleased with the results of their hunt. One human had proven to be stronger than Tash-ket had hoped to find in the land of the xkes. Tash-ket laid claim to this human’s heart. The other xkes would serve well enough for his comrades. The scrawny old female would feed the half-taan. Tash-ket looked forward to torturing the xkes, in order to test their strength further. Kralt argued against torturing them, saying they should be killed at once, their screams might be heard by others, and that would be disobeying K’let’s commands. Tash-ket paid no attention to the words of a slave.
As for the dwarf child, Tash-ket didn’t worry about her. The taan fed her whatever was left over from their meal, which wasn’t often much. Kralt had learned to communicate with the child, and he would sometimes go into towns to steal human food to give her. Kralt was the one who insisted that they keep her alive. She had powers over what they came to call the lightning rock. She could touch it without harm, and they could not. Tash-ket didn’t argue. So long as he had nothing to do with either the rock or the child, he didn’t care what Kralt did.
Tash-ket sat near the fire, sharpening his knife, his stomach growling with anticipation.
Ulaf regained consciousness to find himself sitting on the ground, ropes wrapped around his arms and chest, binding him to a tree. Next to him, Jessan was also propped up
against a tree. He was trussed up in much the same way, except that his wrists were also bound. Ulaf’s wrists were free and he managed to wriggle his arms around in the bindings until his fingers could touch the ground.
Jessan was still unconscious. His head slumped on his chest. His face was covered in blood.
The Grandmother lay on her side in between Ulaf and Jessan. She was not tied to a tree, but had been dumped onto the ground. Her hands and feet were bound, but the taan did not seem to worry much about her escaping, rarely even glanced at her. The Grandmother was conscious, her bright, dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. She did not look at Jessan or Ulaf. Her gaze was fixed intently on something on the other side of the taan camp.
“Taan,” Ulaf repeated groggily to himself. “We’ve been captured by taan.”
He remembered Klendist telling Shakur that taan were in the area. Ulaf hadn’t paid much attention to that part of the conversation, a fact he now regretted.
His head hurt abominably. He needed to be able to think clearly, and he couldn’t through the pain. Scraping up a small bit of dirt with his fingernails, Ulaf used the earth to cast a healing spell on himself. He longed to cast one on Jessan, who appeared to be very seriously injured, but the spell required that he be able to touch his patient.
The taan mostly ignored their captives, beyond casting them a hungry glance now and then. They sat around their fire, laughing and talking. One was busy sharpening a knife.
“Grandmother!” Ulaf whispered.
She didn’t hear him.
“Grandmother!” Ulaf whispered again, more urgently, keeping one eye on their captors. He nudged her with his foot.
The Grandmother twisted around to face him.
“Jessan’s in a bad way,” said Ulaf softly. “He needs healing.”
The Grandmother shook her head.
“His wounds are the wounds of a warrior,” she said. “He would be angry if I took them away.”
“Better angry then dead,” said Ulaf grimly. “I need him alert and awake, Grandmother, and you’re going to have to do it. I can’t get close enough to touch him.”
“He did permit Bashae to heal the pain of his injured hand once,” said the Grandmother. She made up her mind. “Very well.”
She scooted and wriggled her small body over to Jessan. Her skirt, with its jingling bells and clicking stones, made muffled sounds, and one of the taan looked over at them. He said something to the others, and they all made hooting sounds and grinned widely. Apparently they found their captives’ struggles amusing. The Grandmother managed to touch Jessan’s foot with her hand.
“It won’t be perfect,” she said. “I can’t reach my healing stones.”
“It will do,” Ulaf said, and hoped he was right.
The Grandmother closed her eyes and began to mutter words in Twithil, the pecwae language that was like the shrill twittering of birds.
Ulaf watched Jessan closely. The young man’s breathing eased and smoothed. Some color came back to his face. He ceased to groan, and his eyelids fluttered. He blinked and looked around dazedly.
“I left the scars,” the Grandmother assured him, then she went back to staring intently at whatever it was that had attracted her attention.
“What is it, Grandmother?” Ulaf asked, peering in that direction. “What are you looking at?”
And then he saw it. Ulaf gasped softly.
Seated some distance from the fire was what appeared to be a child. At first, he thought it might be the child of one of the taan, but on second glance, he saw it was not. Ulaf could not immediately tell what race the child was, for it was bundled up in so much clothing that he could not distinguish the features. Incredibly, dangling from the child’s neck, was a dazzling, radiant jewel.
The jewel caught the firelight and transformed it into myriad glittering sparks of rainbow brilliance, so beautiful that Ulaf wondered if he’d been struck blind, not to have noticed it immediately. The jewel was large—as big as his fist—and it was an unusual cut for a gem. The jewel was triangular and smooth-sided, as if it had been sheared from some larger portion…
Ulaf gasped again, this time loud enough to attract the attention of the taan, who stood up and glared at him. He changed the gasp into a cough. The taan sat back down again.
“I have never seen a stone like that,” said the Grandmother, her voice soft with awe. “Its magic must be very powerful.”
“It is,” said Ulaf quietly, for now he recognized what the child was wearing. “It is the Sovereign Stone.”
The Grandmother twisted around to stare at him. “The same as the rock Bashae carried? Are you sure?”
“I recognize the jewel from the pictures I’ve seen in the old books. But who it belongs to, what it’s doing here, and how it came to be in the possession of a child are questions beyond my ability to answer. Maybe I can talk to her.”
The taan paid no attention to the child. In their excitement over their captives, they appeared to have forgotten about her. She sat alone, off to herself. Ulaf tried a smile. He tended to be a favorite with children.
The child rose to her feet and took a tentative step toward him. Then he saw that she had a rope tied around her neck, like a dog’s lead. The other end of the rope was tethered to a tree.
The child’s movement brought her nearer the fire, so that Ulaf could see her clearly. Because of her short stature, he had taken her for a child of about six. Now, when he saw her face, he realized he had been mistaken. This child was at least twice that age. By her swarthy complexion and dark hair and flat-nosed features, he knew her to be a dwarven child. He motioned again, but the child regarded him with dark, empty eyes and did not come closer.
Ulaf recalled reading that children guarded the dwarven portion of the Sovereign Stone. Children of Dunner, they were termed. That could be the answer to part of this riddle. He wanted very much to find out the answers to the rest, but he didn’t see much chance of that happening. His destiny appeared to be the main ingredient in a taan stew.
“What happened?” Jessan’s voice was weak, but his words were clear, coherent. “Where are we?”
Ulaf twisted around to look at him. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Jessan answered. A pain-filled grimace belied his words. “Who are these beasts that walk like men? What is going on?”
“They are taan,” said Ulaf. “Creatures of the Void.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“My guess is that they’re going to eat us.”
Jessan stared, appalled. The Grandmother blinked, then grunted.
“The taan have a taste for human flesh,” Ulaf explained.
“No beast-man is going to eat me!” Jessan’s arm muscles bulged. He tried to break free himself of his bonds.
Hearing the commotion, the taan jumped to their feet. Gathering around Jessan, the taan watched him with interest. They gestured and grinned, seemed to be urging him on.
“Taunt them!” said Ulaf swiftly. “See if you can’t trick them into cutting you loose.”
“Cut these ropes!” Jessan cried, straining against his bonds. “Fight me man to man, you cowards!”
At this one of the beast-men, who looked different from the others, a taan with almost human features, said something to the other taan. They hooted with glee.
“Tash-ket has no intention of fighting a slave,” said the human-looking taan, speaking fluent Elderspeak. “But he will honor you by permitting you to fill his belly.”
Jessan snarled and threw himself against the ropes. The taan jeered and poked at him with sharp sticks.
Ulaf had a spell in mind, one he called “Ankle Biter” that would shake the earth beneath their feet, causing them to fall heavily, maybe break a leg or perhaps even knock themselves senseless. If they released Jessan, Ulaf could use his spell to take out one or two of the taan, giving Jessan a chance to tackle the rest.
Unfortunately, the taan weren’t falling for it. The taan who had been shar
pening the knife took a step toward Jessan. By the gleam in the taan’s eye, he wasn’t planning to use his knife to cut the ropes. Jessan kicked out violently with his legs. In desperation, not knowing what good it would do, but thinking he had to do something, Ulaf prepared to cast his spell.
Then the Grandmother began to sing.
The taan’s hide was thickly scarred, he had what appeared to be gemstones embedded in his flesh. The scar tissue had grown partially over the gems, forming bizarre-looking lumps, but enough of the gemstones were still visible to catch the firelight. Ulaf was wondering what the gems were for—it seemed a strange way to wear jewelry—when one of the gemstones in the taan’s arm burst out of his hide and fell to the ground.
The taan gave a grunt of astonishment. Lowering his knife, he stared at the bleeding gash in his arm. The Grandmother continued to sing, her song growing louder and stronger. After staring at the stone for a moment, the taan gave a shrug and raised the gleaming knife, holding it above Jessan’s heart.
Two more gems erupted from his flesh, one falling out of his forehead and the other bursting from his breast. The taan howled in anger and whipped around to glare at his fellow taan. He lost two more gems, this time from his left arm.
The taan said something in a loud voice, made a motion toward himself, as if demanding to know what was going on.
His fellow taan shook their heads and backed away from him, eyeing him warily. One raised his weapon, held it pointed at him.
Another gemstone popped out of the taan’s leg. Furious, he turned his stare on his captives. His gaze went from Ulaf to Jessan and finally to the Grandmother, singing in her shrill voice. The taan thrust his knife at the Grandmother. Jessan gave a roar and lunged helplessly against his bonds. Ulaf started his spell-casting, but before he could utter more than the first words, an eerie darkness came over his mind and he forgot the spell, lost it completely.
The firelight vanished. The moonlight disappeared. The light of the stars, the light of the world was quenched, replaced by vast, empty night. The Grandmother’s singing hushed. The taan’s snarling fury died away.
Journey into the Void Page 40
