"The Narrow Cliffs," he said, choking the words out. "The dogs—the dogs—"
"Yes," Master Rhe replied, the single word the only confirmation—the only shard of hope—he offered.
The dogs couldn't climb.
Against the gray of the horizon the cliffs were a sheet of black, like a chasm to which they willingly hurled themselves. But the cliffs were not their doom. A remnant of some past upheaval, the cliffs separated the Dormont from the upper plateau. They had only to reach them. Reach them, and climb them.
A belch of thunder shook the ground beneath their feet. Its sound was not loud enough to disguise the snarls of their pursuers. Ensel Rhe never slowed. "Don't look back!" he shouted just as another crack of thunder caused Aaron's heart to miss a beat. Then the eslar released Aaron and shoved him forward. "Get to the cliffs!" Without Ensel Rhe's support, Aaron nearly crumbled, but another shout made him find his legs and keep running. "Go!" Then Aaron heard the eslar's weapons leave their sheaths and he suddenly realized just how close their pursuers were.
Without Master Rhe to lead him, Aaron stumbled through the dark. Fear of what might happen should he slow drove him, though. He did his best dodging trees or leaping over jumbles of rock. He slipped only once on some rain-slick leaves, but then he was there, standing before the Narrow Cliffs. They rose as tall as once great Regrok, though this was not mortar and stone but a wall of dirt, clay, and protruding roots. Not wasting a moment, he dispelled aching joints and sore muscles as he took hold of the lowermost roots bursting from the cliff face. Then he started to climb. Everything but the blood pounding in his ears and the cool touch of the damp roots fell away as that solitary act became his focus. Still, concentration was only half the battle. Strength was the rest. He'd not made it far at all when he realized he could go no further.
As if in mockery, the clouds opened, releasing drops light and fat that pattered on the ground beneath him and against the earthen face of the cliff. In moments though, it erupted into a steady downpour. Aaron peered upward. He saw nothing but the dark of the cliffs and the sky. He dared not risk a glance down lest he lose his balance and fall. Desperate to reach the top, but unable to will his muscles on, he clung to the cliff face and did nothing at all.
"Hurry!"
Ensel Rhe's voice coming from the dark shook Aaron back to the here and now. The eslar leapt half the distance Aaron had already climbed, clinging to the wall like a spider.
"Go on," he shouted, "but steadily!"
The barking of the dogs followed his arrival only by seconds.
"Make sure each handhold is secure and the same for your feet before you release anything. I will be behind you the whole way. Just concentrate on moving upward."
His confident assurance lent Aaron resolve. He managed to grasp the next highest root and, with Ensel Rhe there to guide his feet, pull himself up. He repeated the motion, again and again, slowly gaining higher ground with each struggling motion. Below, he heard the dogs, yapping and snarling. He imagined them leaping up the cliff face, desperate to reach their prey, but then falling down to earth as their paws failed them. He did his best to shut out their noise, concentrating instead on Ensel Rhe's voice.
"Halfway now," the eslar encouraged. "Only a little further."
The downpour loosened mud along the cliff face and dripped onto the roots, making them slick. Ensel Rhe, recognizing the danger, closed up with Aaron. All the while, he kept up his litany of encouragement. Aaron grew so intent on listening to the eslar's words that he scant realized they'd crested the top until he was no longer climbing but crawling horizontally through the mud. Not caring about the wetness of the grass or the damp, clumpy dirt, Aaron slumped to his belly in exhaustion. Snarls of disappointment sounded from the base of the cliff as the hounds came to realize their failure. Aaron rolled to face the dark sky, watching as Master Rhe peered out over the cliff's edge.
"What do you see?" Aaron asked, his breathing labored. "What do they look like?" He imagined giant mastiffs or some other hunting dog, big and ugly and mean.
The eslar stepped away from the edge. "You should move further back."
"Why?" Aaron didn't want to move another inch. "The dogs—they can't climb." Aaron swallowed. "Can they?"
Ensel Rhe removed his jacket and, in one quick motion, drew his khatesh. "The dogs, no. But their master…"
Aaron shot upright. "They have a master?"
"Yes," Ensel Rhe said as he held his jacket out to Aaron for safekeeping, "and I think he wants the kill himself."
Standing, Aaron took the coat. "What makes you say that?"
"He was holding the hounds—if that is what we are to call them—back. Letting them drive us, wear us down. He must not have known about the cliffs, else he would have sent them ahead to cut us off."
Aaron almost went to look out over the edge, but his legs refused to take him that far. "If he's coming, shouldn't we run?"
"No." Master Rhe held his blade out before him so that the rain ran down its length in tiny streams. "We still have some distance to cover and I’ll not have this master of dogs nipping at our heels the remainder of the way. I'll make quick work of him, then we'll be on our way. Now, stand away."
His tone carried a finality that left no room for arguing, and so Aaron did as he was told. The bluff they stood upon was scraped clean from the cliff's edge to a spot Aaron chose about twenty paces away, where a rocky outcropping gave him something solid at his back. In the storm's darkness, Aaron saw Master Rhe only as a lean, solitary shadow. Then lightning flared and Aaron saw that they were no longer alone.
The houndmaster was a shadowed brute, taller than Ensel Rhe even without his horned helm. In his hand he held a butcher's blade of a sword already unsheathed. He didn't engage Ensel Rhe right away, but instead looked past him, at Aaron. Aaron's gut clenched, for in that moment there was only himself and the demonic houndmaster standing upon the clifftop and the houndmaster saw him. Burning embers glared out from eye slits carved into the master's helmet, freezing Aaron in place while whispering of the fate that awaited him once the eslar was dead. Aaron wanted to turn and run but the master's stare held him fast. Then, as the lightning's flare faded, the demon's gaze left Aaron and returned to Master Rhe. In the next instant, the two combatants clashed together.
Their movement was revealed in brief flashes by the sharp flares of lightning streaking across the heavens. Between such bursts and as the rhythm of the battle fell into place, he saw their shades crisscrossing and blurring until there was no telling them apart but for the savagery of the one and the skillful finesse of the other. The whoosh of a blade swiping empty air or the ring of steel on steel were the only sounds Aaron heard as the two combatants traded one blow after another. They both slipped—the ground was slick with rain and mud—but when Ensel Rhe lost his footing such action melded naturally into his next move, as if he'd intended a misstep all along. Not so with the demon, who lurched and stumbled and finally staggered forward only to find his opponent not where he'd been a moment before, but instead behind him, driving his sword straight through the houndmaster's unprotected back. The master of hounds was dead before he hit the ground.
Ensel Rhe wiped his bloody blade across the wet grass before returning it to its sheath. The only sign of fatigue he displayed was a slight rise and fall of his chest.
Aaron ran to him, his eyes immediately going to the fallen form of the houndmaster. The body was only a dark smudge lying across the ground until the night flared with lightning, revealing the lifeless corpse and the blood covering it. Below, the dogs fell into an impassioned fervor of howling and whining, a litany of mourning, as if they knew their master had fallen.
"Come," Ensel Rhe said, taking his coat from Aaron. "Let's get moving."
Aaron tore his gaze from the fallen body, trying to purge the sight from his mind. The bloody image traveled with him the remainder of the night anyway.
12. The Four Elements
CONTRARY TO WHAT ERLEK HAD told
Shanna earlier that morning, the savant never did call for her. It wasn't until mid-day, when the wagon finally stopped, that she was given the opportunity to vacate what had in just a few bumpy hours of travel become a sort of home to her. It was Mirna who parted the curtain separating Shanna from the outside world and, with her head bowed, said, "Please, milady, we have arrived. Master Nee has requested you and your belongings be transferred to the airship."
Shanna didn't like Mirna. It wasn't because the woman was unfriendly, impolite or disrespectful. It was just the opposite in fact. She was friendly, polite, and cordial to a bothersome extreme. No one had ever treated Shanna so well. Somehow it just felt wrong. The oppressiveness of the woman's cordiality had finally boiled over when, before they'd departed, Mirna had brought her clean water and food, laid out clothing she thought might fit Shanna well, and, finally, offered to remove Shanna's tattered garments and bathe her. It was the last which had caused Shanna to chase Mirna from the wagon, for she was neither a child nor a lady and could do such things herself. Shanna had gone so far as to tell her to never return, something she mildly regretted, for she'd not meant to sound so harsh. Now, she hoped to make amends.
"Mirna," Shanna said, "come in."
The woman stepped into the wagon's interior instantly. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.
"Can you look at me and not the floor?"
Mirna's head came up. Her eyes met Shanna's, but only for an instant.
"Look at me," Shanna said again.
Their eyes met. This time the woman's gaze did not falter.
"I wanted to apologize—"
A look of horror overcame Mirna. "Oh, no, milady—"
Shanna stomped her foot on the wagon's timbered floor, more out of frustration than anger. "Mirna, please! I was rude and mean and… I'm sorry."
"Please, milady, there is no need—"
"Yes, there is, and please stop calling me 'milady'. My name is Shanna."
"As you wish, Lady Shanna." Mirna bowed. Her gaze fixed somewhere on a spot near the dark boots Shanna now wore.
"No, just Shanna. I'm not a lady. I'm just a girl, one who really just likes to be called by her name and that's all."
"Yes, mi— Shanna." Mirna paused, uncertain what came next. She retreated to the task that had brought her here. "I was sent to fetch you, milady. The master regrets not calling for you earlier, but wants to speak with you once you are onboard the airship."
Realizing it might take more than one session to alter the relationship between them, Shanna let out a deep breath and said, "Lead on, then."
Mirna bowed her head in deference, then she parted the wagon's curtain for Shanna to step through. The ladder was there as before. Shanna ignored it, leaping from the wagon so that her new boots sank into the grassy mud. It was cold enough that Shanna was immediately thankful for the dry clothes. She eyed the line of wagons and carts for a moment, relieved when she spotted the prison wagon still at the rear. The moment she'd felt her own wagon lurching forward she'd poked her head outside, concerned she might be leaving the others behind. With relief, she'd watched the prison wagon, pulled by its own team of oxen, wheel round the encampment and join the line of transports as they rolled out. Not all of the dwarves had come with them. Though she couldn't be certain of the number, now, as she strode down the line of wagons, she counted about a dozen of them. Several glanced her and Mirna's way, but it was a fleeting gesture. She did nothing to tempt their ire, but even innocent glances of hers were not met in kind. Not a single one of them held her stare for more than the briefest of moments before their faces, marked by a varied display of fear, loathing, disgust, or pity, turned away. She'd done nothing to elicit such reactions from them. She didn't know a one of them, nor had she done anything, good or ill, to them personally or to their kind. She'd never even seen a dwarf up until they’d been captured. If anything, she should have bad feelings towards them, after all they'd done to her. Tying her up and dragging her through the night, then locking her in a cage and making her watch while those horrible snakemen… she shook the memory of that experience from her mind.
As she approached the prison wagon at the end of the train, the pair of dwarves tasked with guarding the refugees moved off a bit as if they could not stand her presence. It was just as well, for it allowed her privacy as she placed her hands on the solid, iron bars. One look at her kinfolk and her heart sank.
The sergeant—Shanna couldn't remember his name—sat against the rear of the cage. His face was stained with dirt and crusted blood. The others—Jadjin, the boy Rail, and the man and woman—looked unhurt, but not unaffected by their predicament. Their clothing remained damp, their skin sallowed. Rail, whom Shanna remembered as a wisecracker much like herself, sat with his legs splayed out and his head sunk low. The man and woman leaned against one another, holding hands. They both looked at Shanna, their eyes devoid of life. Even Jadjin had lost some of her earlier vibrancy, though her mood lifted the moment she saw Shanna.
"You're alive!" the healer said. "When they took you away we thought we'd never see you again."
All eyes were on her. She suddenly felt guilty for having accepted the small comforts the savant had bestowed upon her. "I'm well. I—I don't know what they want with me, but I'm trying to go along with whatever it is until I can figure things out. I'll get you all out of here. I promise. I don't know how, but I'll do my best."
Jadjin touched her hand reassuringly while the others only nodded in response. Only the army man, the sergeant, made no reaction other than to stare at her as if she'd done something wrong. It took Shanna a moment to realize he wasn't so much staring at her as at her clothes, her washed face and treated wounds, and, as his eyes roamed past her, the servant woman Mirna who hovered just out of earshot.
"I'm going to get all of you out," Shanna said again, trying to instill some degree of confidence in her tone.
"Get the keys, girl, and come to us in the night," the sergeant grumbled. "It's our only chance of escape. We'll be waiting."
Shanna said nothing, but she nodded. Then she let her hands slip from the bars and, with Mirna, made her way towards the first wagon in the line. Many of the transports were either covered like hers or had heavy, oiled tarps draped over their loads. Dwarves pressed into service as draymen were already busying themselves with the unloading. Shanna slunk past them, thankful she wasn't being made to help.
As she reached the frontmost wagon, the unobstructed vista opened before her. The sight was enough to make Shanna realize she’d no idea where they were. No surprise there. She'd never been out of sight of Norwynne before. Most of the view was obscured by trees, anyway. In fact, spinning around, Shanna saw they'd rolled into a shallow valley. Back the way they'd come, Shanna noticed rectangular stones marking an ancient, forgotten road made visible only because of the grass their passage had laid flat. It continued onward, presumably up and out of the valley, though it appeared this was as far as they meant to take it. Progress from this point would be made in Erlek's airship. Shanna hadn't forgotten about the diri—the dirig—the flying ship. But she'd wanted to visit with the others first to let them know she wasn't going to leave them there, even though when she looked into the sergeant's eyes she knew that was exactly what he thought. Maybe she'd just leave him there, but she'd definitely get the rest out.
But not yet. Right now, all of Shanna's attention was suddenly on the airship that was just now appearing over the tops of the trees. Right away, she saw that it was a ship in every sense of the word, with a wooden hull as big as any she'd ever seen in one of Aaron's picture books. As it drew closer Shanna wondered if she shouldn't step away before it landed on top of her. But its descent was so graceful, its movement so slow, that she realized there was no danger. The hull was long and narrow but tapered at the middle section. It hung suspended beneath the largest balloon Shanna had ever seen. Sausage-shaped and bigger than the hull of the airship by many times, it held the ship aloft by a maze of cordage. Its flight made pract
ically no noise at all except for an occasional spout of flame accompanied by a hiss that reminded Shanna of a large steaming kettle. Like a ghost ship, it glided ethereally through the air, devoid of any of the normal activity one would associate with a seafaring vessel. But then Shanna heard the shouts of sailors—no, not sailors, but airmen—coming from onboard. She realized that this thing—this wonder—was real, and that soon she'd be aboard her.
She thought of Aaron. For a moment, she imagined she heard his voice explaining the vessel's design and the principles that allowed it to fly. He'd launch into a discussion of the materials and the construction, how it moved and how it turned, not stopping until she punched him in the arm. Shanna sighed. She missed him. More than anything, she wished he was here with her right now. Lost in her thoughts, Shanna nearly jumped out of her oversized boots when a voice far deeper than Aaron's sounded next to her.
"You wear the clothes of another," the voice said.
It took a moment to shake off her surprise and another to realize who spoke to her. It was the leader of the dwarves. Somehow, she remembered his name. Engus Rul. Though clearly he'd spoken to her, he did not look at her as he made his own appraisal of the flying ship.
"They were… given to me." Shanna held her arms out to look the fine fabric of the sleeves up and down. Her old clothes, torn, ripped, soiled, and stained, had finally had enough. Mirna had disposed of them, including the vest Aaron had given her, which was beyond cleaning and smelled too much like the floodwaters and the floating dead. Her new shirt, which Shanna had at first thought garish but which she had warmed to once she'd seen herself in a small mirror, was dark blue with sleeves dyed maroon. The colors complemented one another and the gleam of the fabric, which felt smooth against her skin, accentuated the dark shimmer of her hair. Dark pantaloons, a studded belt she'd had to punch her own hole in because it was too long otherwise, and a vest the color of rubies completed her new attire.
The Five Elements Page 15
