by David Wind
Mikaal gripped the handle of the sword tightly. His body tensed, his muscles vibrating. “There’s something.”
Areenna did not dismiss his words. Instead, she lifted her bow and notched an arrow. Mikaal hefted his sword and started Charka into the ravine.
As they rode, the walls grew higher on each side. Just enough twilight filtered through for them to see clearly. Halfway through, their bodies taunt, their eyes watchful, they stopped. “Has the feeling left?” Areenna asked, searching his face, trying to sense what he did.
He shook his head. As he started to speak, Charka let free a low cry and back stepped.
The disturbance in his mind grew strong. His vision wavered and cleared. On a ledge, hidden by the taller rocky outcropping he saw a pack of gorlons… yet they were larger than gorlons, dark, with shaggy coats. They were about to attack them. He remembered his father’s words about the animals Roth had called wolves.
He cleared his vision and said, “Be ready, we are in danger. A pack of gorlons… no, not gorlons, things…”
Charka rose suddenly to his back legs, emitting a loud cry and kicking the empty air before him as two of the darkly menacing animals appeared. From above them, growls emanated.
Dismounting quickly, Areenna shed the confining cloak and braced her back against the wall. On the ledge above, a half dozen sets of eyes glowered down at her. Her power flared instantly. She sent a probe toward one of the beasts. At the same time came a sharp inner warning to hold back—something about the animals was wrong. Her pushed thought hit something and died. She contained her power—protected! She had to concentrate on defending herself… she could build either magic or fight. She chose fight.
The first of the strange gorlon-like creatures moved forward. It was huge, almost twice the size of a gorlon. Unlike a gorlon whose coat was short and smooth, this beast had a long coat with patches of dark tufts hanging shaggily. Orange yellow eyes glared angrily, spittle drooled down the sides of its mouth in long stretching threads. Fangs the size of a man’s hand curved downward from its wide snout. Puffs of condensing moisture shot from its nostrils like smoke from a chimney.
“What are they?” Mikaal asked as he drew his knife with his left hand and held his sword in his right. He too shrugged off the cloak, letting it fall on Charka’s back and dismounted.
“I know only that black magic surrounds them,” Areenna whispered as she looked at the gorlon-like creature, hatred and bloodlust flowing from it. Her creatures. Protected. She ignored her regret at not defending with her powers, but there had not been time enough to understand what she faced. Her powers continued to swirl hot within her.
She reached inward, drawing on her abilities but as she did, Mikaal shouted a warning, spun toward her and jumped, his sword arcing inches above her head. An unearthly scream resounded when his blade sliced through the neck of a creature who had launched itself at her back.
The animal fell dead at Areenna’s feet. When it hit the ground, the leader of the devil-like pack leapt toward Mikaal. Charka rose and kicked out, striking the beast on its side. The animal screamed and fell while a second beast slipped past the kraal and charged Mikaal.
The abomination of an animal jumped upward, its mouth wide. Before it could reach him, Mikaal crouched and in one fluid movement turned, swung his sword in a long arcing movement and sliced through the beast’s abdomen.
At the same instant the leader attacked, Areenna let fly her arrow at one of the mutated wolf creatures when it leapt from the ledge toward her. The arrow pierced its chest and it fell dead at her feet. From the corner of her eyes, even as she notched another arrow, she saw the lead creature rise and slip past Charka’s frantic kicks and move toward Mikaal.
Above him, another of the huge animals launched itself at Mikaal’s head.
Areenna released the arrow, which embedded itself in the charging creature’s shoulder but did not stop it. Mikaal caught the jumping beast from above on his sword, but the weight of the animal tore the sword from his grip. It lay unmoving between them, with Mikaal’s sword out of reach.
Behind you! Areenna warned.
Mikaal spun, his knife at the ready, as the lead beast struck. Snapping jaws and huge fangs reached for his neck. Mikaal stepped forward, not back, and buried his blade deep in the beast’s chest. The rush and weight of the creature slammed him down, pinning him to the ground. His right hand grasped the animal’s neck, holding back the large fangs, which tried to tear at his jugular. He twisted the knife, pushed harder and sliced upward. The creature shivered and died atop him, spewing its vile odorous blood everywhere.
Areenna’s back was against the rock wall as more of the beasts surrounded her. With an arrow notched in the bow, and more shafts curled inside the hand holding the powerful wooden weapon, she faced the oncoming creatures. They padded forward, low growls coming from their throats. Six yellow eyes glared at her as they inched closer. Mikaal, she called silently.
Mikaal struggled beneath the dead creature until he was able to push it from him. He gained his feet even as Areenna called to him. Tearing his knife free, he raced forward, covering the distance quickly to launch himself at the first beast. Seeing him come toward them, Areenna released the readied arrow and buried it in the eye of the black beast before her.
Mikaal landed on the back of the closest one, his knife going deep into its chest. He rolled from the dead thing as another fell from Areenna’s arrow. The third leapt at Areenna before she could set an arrow. As it flew at her, Mikaal grabbed the creature in midair. They fell to the ground rolling, the mutated beast growling and snapping while Mikaal sought a place for his knife.
A lance of pain ripped through him when the black thing sank its fangs into the heavy muscles of his shoulder. He roared out in anger and rolled to his back in an effort to dislodge the beast. He rolled again, pressing the thing between himself and the ground, and raised his knife.
Above him, Areenna fought for a clear shot, but they were moving too fast, wrestling and twisting on the ground, the onrushing darkness overshadowing everything. She saw the beast curl within Mikaal’s grasp. Twisting and growling, it drew its hind legs inward and raked them down his thighs.
Mikaal cried out but did not loosen his grip. In a swift movement, he rolled over, freed his arm and slid the blade between two ribs, puncturing its heart.
The animal stiffened and died. Areenna raced to Mikaal, pushed the heavy monstrosity from him and knelt at his side. Blood was flowing from his thighs, his leggings were in shreds, and there were deep punctures and a huge tear on his shoulder.
She saw the pain in his eyes. She stroked his face as he struggled to move. “Stay still,” she commanded.
Charka came to them, lowered his head and pressed it to Mikaal’s chest, pinning him to the ground. Mikaal did not fight. Gaalrie, who had been hovering over everything, unable to find a way to help, dropped to the ground next to Mikaal. She lowered her beak to his forehead. Both aoutems pushed their essences to him.
While they did so, Areenna raced to the kralets, who were shaking with fright. She grabbed the first one and pulled down a bag, opened it and took out one of her tunics. While she returned to Mikaal, she drew her knife and sliced the tunic into strips.
She knelt at his side. Hold tight, she pleaded.
“I am not badly injured,” he argued and tried to sit.
“You are. Hold still, this will hurt.” She balled one of the smaller pieces, pressed it into his torn and punctured shoulder. She tied it with another piece to stem the flow of blood. Then she inspected his ripped thighs. One had seriously deep slashes through the muscles; the other was not as bad. She wrapped the lacerated thigh with the largest piece of her tunic, tying it tightly to stop the bleeding.
Finally, she took a deep shuddering breath. “I…” she began.
Mikaal, looking up at her and seeing her eyes fill with tears as she held his eyes, raised his good arm and cupped her cheek. “You are untouched?”
When s
he nodded, he exhaled slowly and lowered his arm. “I will be fine by tomorrow. We need shelter tonight.”
“Yes.” She called to Gaalrie, asking her to find a place for them. The treygone pressed her beak gently against Mikaal’s forehead once again before rising into the air and beginning her search.
Areenna grasped his uninjured arm and pulled him to his feet. He clenched his jaws to stop from crying out.
His shoulder burned and his legs flared with fiery slices of pain. With Areenna’s help, he made it to Charka, who went to his knees for Mikaal to struggle onto his back. He stayed down a moment longer while Areenna pulled the cloak over Mikaal’s shoulders, who winced when the heavy fur pressed against the wound.
She took his sword from the chest of the dead beast and pulled his knife free from the side of the other. The dead animals, created from darkest of black magic, made her stomach twist with revulsion.
Gaalrie’s tug within her mind came a few minutes later. She saw a place, not too distant. A cave opening within a high ridge where the foothills and the first high-slanting slope of the mountains met.
Turning to Mikaal, she told him, “A half mile at most, there is a cave and safety.”
Mikaal nodded. “We should go, now.”
She turned, rose and started toward the kralets but stopped after three steps as more orange yellow eyes gleamed in the distance ahead. This time there was no hesitation. She drew up her power instantly, the burning in her depths turning volcanic.
Leaning forward, she released every bit of her energy. Silver blue light spewed from her upheld hands, and she sent it at the first beast. Impossibly, the blue stream of killing power flared a foot before the creatures as if a wall had risen to stop it. The animals stood there defiantly for several seconds before turning and walking into the oncoming night.
“She protects them,” Areenna whispered. Only when she sensed the beasts were gone did she turn back, gather the kralets and tie them to Hero. They rode slowly out of the ravine. Charka walked carefully, doing his best to keep Mikaal steady on his broad back.
Nightfall was complete and Areenna was aware of everything. She heard scuttling in the rocks and sensed small rock dwelling animals running back and forth, tracking them as they moved. Still, she knew it was from curiosity only that these animals trailed them. There was no animosity, no sense of danger. Nor was there a ‘feel’ of the other beasts.
It took them twenty minutes to reach the cave opening on the side of the mountain. Dismounting, Areenna went to Mikaal. She checked his shoulder and saw the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage. “Wait here, hold on,” she whispered, turned and stepped into the opening. She called forth her powers, easily accepting the swift rise and the burn always accompanying them. She concentrated on one ability and a heartbeat later, two glowing spheres appeared on her palms. Light flowed from them, encircling her and spreading forward. She walked carefully and slowly for almost twenty feet until the tunnel she was in began to widen. Ten feet further found her in a huge cavern, the walls high, and the rock ceiling a good fifty feet above.
Holding her palms upward she sent the balls of light deeper into the cavern. They rose slowly until they were midway between the floor and ceiling. She pushed hard and the light grew brighter.
She gasped. The sound echoed from the walls a dozen times before it came back to her. Before her, centered within the huge cavern, stood a wooden structure the likes of which she had never before seen. It was two stories high, its width twice its height. Two sets of stairways led to the top level while the first one had two huge closed doors.
She froze for a moment. Her senses told her the building was old, perhaps as old as Nevaeh itself. The wood appeared petrified and glowed under the floating balls of light. Windows of smooth glass were everywhere. There were strange words painted on the door, words she could not read.
There was no sign of life.
A powerful cry hit her mind. There was no sound, but she knew it was Charka. “Mikaal,” she cried, seeking his mind, his thoughts, but all she found was a blank space where he should have been.
CHAPTER 16
“Mikaal is injured,” Enaid cried out, sitting up straight in the bed. Next to her, Roth rose as well.
Turning to her, he wrapped an arm about her and drew her to him. “Tell me,” he encouraged.
She drew on his physical being, absorbing his strength. “I saw it as if I were there. Strange creatures attacked them, bigger than gorlons, but gorlons of some sort. They had long shaggy coats and huge fangs. Pointed snouts, not like a gorlon. Their eyes were yellow, an evil deep-glowing yellow, and orange. Mikaal and Areenna fought them off, killed six, but one wounded Mikaal. It is serious. The Black Bitch… she controlled them. She protected them. They could not use their powers against the creatures, only bow and blade. She took no chances and did not use her energy against them; she used it only to protect the animals, which made her block stronger.”
“Wolves, mutated… What can we do?” he asked, his stomach knotting impotently.
Enaid shook her head. “There is nothing. He is too far from us. Areenna cares for him. She will heal him. But they will lose much time and will be exposed to even more danger.”
“There has to be something,” Roth insisted.
Earlier in the day, Queen Lyra of Morvene, Queen Ilsraeth of Northcrom and Queen Atir of Aldimore had arrived after receiving the messages Enaid had sent before she and Roth left for Fainhall. With Ilsraeth had come Timon, who was now father guardian of Aldimore following King Maslow’s death. Atir’s daughter, Princess Laira, had come as well. She had already foreseen the troubles ahead and knew she must join them.
Enaid nodded slowly. “Perhaps there is.” She rose from the bed and put on a robe. Turning to Roth, she said, “Stay abed. We will do what we can. I will let you know what happens.” With that, she turned and started out, already sending a call to the four women of power within Tolemac’s keep.
Minutes later, sensing Enaid’s urgent calling, the four women encircled the High Queen. “Mikaal is hurt. That black she-snuck sent beasts to attack them. He is badly injured. Areenna works to heal him. We must find a way to help.”
“Her powers are strong,” said Atir, “the healing power will be well used in her hands.”
Enaid shook her head even as she agreed. “We cannot take the chance. We must try to aid her.”
Laira stepped forward. The youngest present, she was the same eighteen years as Areenna. She cleared her throat and spoke in a low voice. “On the Island, when I was lost inside a black room, I had many visions, so many I still work to understand most of them even now, after almost six months. The one I know best was the first one. It showed me here, in this very chamber, the five of us in a circle, our hands entwined, our minds one.”
“You saw such on the Island,” Ilsraeth whispered. “I saw such not a week prior. I was in my garden, tending a sickly stand of flowers when I received the vision.”
Enaid, standing in the center of the room, sank to the floor, pulling her legs under her. “Come,” she said.
The five formed a perfect circle on the floor, each holding the hand of the woman next to her. When they were ready, Enaid sent her core essence toward each. They followed suit and gave their own essences to each. Unexpectedly, Laira took charge of their thoughts. When she had control, she drew a mind picture of Areenna and pushed everything toward her. The five women opened themselves completely and gave forth all the energy and power they possessed.
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Mikaal was unconscious. She couldn’t reach him. He was drifting from her, his body dying as the blood flowed from him, his mind following. She stoked his face, unwilling to give up.
You will not leave me! You will not die! Come back! She pushed her determination, her desperation directly at him.
Areenna called up her healing abilities and fell into the blindness accompanying the power. She saw nothing except the glowing of her hands and the pulsing aura surrounding his
injuries.
Working carefully, she pressed her hands to the wounds on his shoulder, funneling every bit of her healing gift into him, but the wounds were grave, and the blood would not stop flowing.
What? How? Her thoughts whirled frantically. I cannot lose you! I will not lose you!
A memory filled her mind. She had been fifteen. She and her mother had been walking in the courtyard when a woman came running to them, tears streaking her face. Her husband had been pinned under a fallen beam he had been repairing. It had fallen across his legs, severing one at the knee.
They had run with the woman and when they saw the man, Inaria, her mother had gone to him and inspected the wound. Then she removed the leather belt from his waist and tied a tourniquet. When the blood slowed, she created fire in the palm of her hand and, when it grew hot, cupped the torn bottom of his leg and cauterized the wound. The man had lost part of one leg but lived for many years afterward.
Flames rose instantly from Areenna’s palms. These flames were not the gentle flames of her mother but Mikaal’s powerful fire. She damped the fire, controlling it carefully, and held her hands over Mikaal’s shoulder. How can I do this? How do I close the punctures?
A sudden surge of power caught her off guard. The flames in her hands rose two feet into the air. Her powers grew past anything she had known before. Then came the vision of the five women, locked together, swaying in rhythm. Areenna caught Laira’s thought, Use us.
Closing her eyes, she let the five enter her. A breath later, she knew what to do. With their abilities supporting her own, she manipulated the fire into two small streams the size of the punctures. She moved the flames to the tip of each index finger and, staying fully melded with Mikaal, forced the fire into the open wounds.
Unconscious, Mikaal’s body arched upward with the pain of the fire. Areenna, so closely connected, screamed out as her body arched and her shoulder burst with pain. Fighting the burning agony, she held her fingers to the wounds for five full seconds before drawing them back. The pain in her shoulder did not lessen when she put out the fire.
