[Meetings 03] - Dark Heart

by Tina Daniell - (ebook by Undead)

  All of a sudden, Kit was cut free. She bent and groped for her sword hilt. Grasping it, she started toward where Ursa had been—Kit could no longer see him. The whirlwind knocked her off the feet, flattening her on the ground. Colo grabbed Kit from behind, and when she tried to get up again, the tracker held her down on the ground.

  "Don't be a fool!" Colo screamed into her ear above the roar. "Stay down. Roll this way as fast as you can!"

  Kitiara could just barely make out the female mercenary in front of her, rolling and crawling and snaking to the right.

  Suddenly the maelstrom exploded in full force, sweeping everything up into itself. Even as Kit tried to follow after Colo she was being sucked back toward the clearing and worse, pulled aloft. Her fingers clawed into the dirt. Futile. All manner of things boiled past her, ascending—weapons and horses and flailing bodies.

  The slig's head.

  "Grab on!" yelled Colo.

  Kit could see that the diminutive warrior had dropped into a small ravine and was clinging with one arm to a giant root. With her free hand she grabbed Kit's ankle. The force of the gale was such that both women's bodies were linked in a line, fully extended.

  Kit heard the cries of men all around her. She had to close her eyes against the dust and dirt flying into them. She had to gasp painfully to draw a single breath. Through it all she felt Colo's steady grip on her ankle.

  A rock hurtled up and hit Kitiara square in the temple, and she blacked out. The last thing she heard—or thought she heard—was a violent explosion.

  Chapter 14

  Mantilla Vale

  Kitiara woke up, cold water splashing on her face. She was lying on her back on the banks of the river and looking up into the face of Colo, who was crouched beside her, water cupped in her hands. Kit gave a start as everything—the slig hunt, the ambush, the destructive gale—came back to her.

  "Shh!" whispered Colo.

  Kit propped herself up on her elbows. This didn't look entirely familiar. "Where am I?" she asked.

  "About half a mile from where we were," said Colo, still whispering.

  "How. . . ?"

  "I had to drag you! Now be quiet or you'll give us away!"

  In a daze Kit heard distant tramping in the underbrush, muffled voices arguing, horses riding off. After what seemed an eternity, the noises tapered away, and she and Colo were surrounded by silence.

  "What—" she began anew.

  "Quiet," ordered Colo, placing her hand over Kit's mouth for emphasis. "Sleep now. In the morning . . ."

  They went behind some rocks. Colo covered Kit with a layer of branches and leaves so that she couldn't be easily seen and then made a similar blind for herself. As she fell asleep, trying to piece together what had happened, Kit was aware of Colo's watchful eyes peering out from the camouflage.

  * * * * *

  Kit woke early the next morning. Colo was on her haunches next to her, throwing her dice and bones and muttering to herself.

  They were on the edge of the woods, near the bend of the river where the four mercenaries had first begun tracking the slig the previous day. Obviously, the menace had passed, for Colo had no compunction about being spotted.

  "Who were that bunch? What did they do with Ursa?" Kit asked insistently. "Will you please tell me what has happened? Why did that mage summon a whirlwind?"

  "I don't know," Colo stopped her soothsaying and answered grimly.

  "How did you—we—manage to escape?"

  Colo smiled slyly. "When they came upon us, I had my hand in Cleverdon's bag and was able to grab one of the poison blow darts that I knew he carried. It was tiny enough to fit into my hand and slip in my mouth. I waited for the right moment, when the stupid man who was going to kill me reached for his weapon. I spit it into his face. The poison is fast-acting, and in the confusion we were able to get away. Some of them tried to find us afterward but couldn't, because I dragged you downstream."

  "Where are they now?"

  "I think they have given up," said Colo. "Now it's our turn to look for them." She had walked to the riverbank and bent over to sip some water from her hands. "Drink some," Colo advised. "It'll be good for you."

  Both drank their fill. Colo thought it best if they were to stay away from the river during daylight, and double back to the site of the whirlwind by a roundabout way through the forest.

  They had one sword—Beck's—which Kitiara had managed, to hold onto during the entire episode. Setting off through the brush, they took turns with it now, hacking away undergrowth wherever their path was impeded.

  After a short but grueling press through the forest, Kit recognized the general vicinity where they had tied the horses the day before. There were majestic trees with yellow leaves and some clearings dotted with bare rock. Coming into one of the clearings, she and Colo stopped dead in their tracks at the sight that awaited them.

  Cleverdon—Droopface—hung from a tall tree, his body stark naked, covered with cuts and oozing pus and blood. The look on his pathetic face was almost peaceful, but his eyes had been dug out. They lay on the ground at his feet where some birds had pecked at them.

  Beneath him to one side was faithful Cinnamon, staked out on the ground and horribly flayed. She lay on one side, her flank skinned so that her innards lay exposed, rotting in the sun. Droopface had been killed before he'd been hung, but Cinnamon had died slowly, tortuously bleeding to death while woodland scavengers feasted on her.

  Kitiara couldn't bear to look at the sight. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands, fighting nausea.

  Colo crept forward, looking around warily. Reaching Cinnamon, the tracker gave the dead horse a hard kick, raising nothing but flies. Likewise she gave Droopface a push. Though the sad-faced one swung back and forth crazily, there was no other movement or sound. Cleverdon had been dead for many hours.

  Confident that no one else was around, Colo stalked back to Kit and shoved her in the back.

  "What's that for?" demanded Kit hotly, jumping up to face Colo with a hard-set jaw.

  "Because we don't have time for that schoolgirl stuff," Colo said angrily.

  "That was my father's horse," said Kit softly.

  "So what? Who's your father?"

  "Gregor Uth Matar," Kit said dejectedly. Her father seemed farther away now than ever.

  Colo looked surprised by this information. "The one Ursa rode with?"

  "Ursa!" responded Kit, even more astonished than her companion. "What do you mean? He never said anything about riding with my father."

  "I don't know," said Colo guardedly. "Maybe I'm wrong. I have a knack for getting names mixed up."

  "Tell me what you know." Kit pushed her.

  "I don't know anything," insisted Colo. She stood chin to chin with Kitiara, not in the least intimidated.

  Although Kit wanted to fight it out, she also had to admit that she trusted Colo, who had saved her life—twice so far. Perhaps Colo was honestly mistaken. Anyway, how could Ursa have ridden with her father and never mentioned it?

  "We don't have time for this anyway," Colo repeated.

  "What do you mean?"

  "They killed your horse, but not the others. That means three horses might be running free in the woods. We have to find at least one of them if we are going to stand a chance of catching up."

  Kit thought a moment. "If the raiders didn't take them, the horses would have followed our scent and ended by the waterfall and the slig's cave. That means if we keep going in this direction we stand a good chance of running across them."

  "Right," said Colo, setting off again through the woods. Kit looked over her shoulder at Droopface and Cinnamon. Colo turned around. "Coming?"

  "Yes," said Kit, hurrying after her.

  After another two hours of slowly making their way, they came upon the knoll within sight of the waterfall, the same spot where they had made camp, and been attacked, the night before.

  The sight that greeted them was even more eerie than the one
in the other clearing. Trees were bent and twisted, even uprooted. The ground had been swept clean of rocks, leaves, and everything else. Over the site hung a strong, gassy odor.

  There was no evidence of Ursa or the slig's head or the guard whom Colo had killed, no evidence of anyone or anything from the day before. The place looked not destroyed, but strangely emptied.

  "What does it mean?" asked Kit, unnerved.

  Colo was stomping around, trying to pick up a trail of something. "Powerful magic. Evil magic. I think they were after Ursa and, for some reason, you. When they captured him, they spirited him away—somewhere. That great cyclone was a magic wind. It took him and everything else away."

  "A powerful mage must be his enemy," said Kit wonderingly. She was thinking about what Colo said, and wondering why anyone would be after both her and Ursa.

  "Or somebody with enough money to hire a powerful mage," added Colo thoughtfully. Suddenly she cocked her head. "Did you hear that?"

  "Hear what?" asked Kit.

  "There it is again!" shouted Colo and took off, sprinting through the forest. Kit had to run as fast as she could, leaping over branches and rocks, to keep her in sight. They burst into a clearing, and there was Droopface's mule, calmly munching grass. The mule shied away from them, but Colo grabbed it. Stroking its head soothingly, she jumped on and then extended an arm down to Kit, pulling her up.

  * * * * *

  It took them all afternoon, traveling in ever-widening circles, to pick up a trail, although they did not understand why there were signs of only two horses, heading west.

  After another hour it grew dark, but Kit and Colo kept going. They only had Beck's sword between them, so Kitiara wondered not only who they were following, but what they would do when they caught up. Long past midnight they saw a campfire ahead. They dismounted and crept forward on their hands and knees.

  Once they got closer, Kit saw that it was the two dark elves, who were bickering. Closer still, Kit could make out some of the words. She realized they were arguing over her—"the shadow girl," as one of them put it—and which of them was to blame that she had absconded.

  "If you had done it my way—"

  "You agreed!"

  "Well, it will be your job to explain."

  Colo put a finger to her lips and circled to the right. Kit had no idea what her plan was, but she held the hilt of her sword firmly, waiting for some signal.

  Colo emerged from behind the elves, leaping at them with such breathtaking speed that Kit was taken aback. The tracker carried a big rock. She flung herself on the back of one of the dark elves, bringing her rock down on his head with a sickening crunch.

  Even as she did so, Kit sprang out of hiding and rushed ahead with an impromptu battle cry. The other elf had jumped up and grabbed a dagger. Now he rushed toward Kit, but she had the advantage of surprise and a longer reach. She knocked his blade out of his hand with one swipe of her arm, then plunged her weapon into his chest. He fell dead.

  It was over in a matter of seconds. Kit saw that Colo was stripping the weapons off her unconscious victim, attaching a knife and various pouches to her belt. She looked up at Kitiara with a confident grin.

  "What now?" asked Kit, wiping her sword blade.

  Colo sat down on a log and took a bite out of the haunch of venison that was roasting over the fire.

  "We wait," she said, gesturing to the elf she had downed, "until this one wakes up."

  * * * * *

  Eventually, the dark elf groggily came to. His expression hardened when he saw Kit and Colo standing over him. He squirmed to sit up. Colo had bound his hands and feet, and tied a rope around his neck, then to a tree branch, so that he could not move very far without cutting off his breath.

  It was the elf Kitiara remembered from the Silver Gar. For the first time Kit could see him close up, with his almond-shaped face, large, pointed ears, and haughty expression. The dark elf refused to show any fear and, struggling to stand, stared at them insolently.

  Colo matter-of-factly hit him across the face, drawing a streak of blood from his lip. There was a long pause, and the dark elf slowly bared his teeth in a bitter smile. Colo hit him again.

  "Where is he? Where did they go?" she demanded.

  "Far away from here," he answered tightly.

  "How?" she asked.

  "Magic wind."

  Colo nodded to Kit.

  "Why didn't you go with them?" she asked.

  "Because we lost the girl," he said, indicating Kit.

  Kit's eyes widened. "You were following me on the boat, weren't you?" she probed.

  "No," he said. "That was accidental. I wasn't following anyone. Then I noticed the sword that Patric was carrying."

  "You killed him!" Kit said fiercely.

  Now Colo was listening with wide eyes, trying to add it all up.

  "I killed him," the dark elf said, "and I was going to steal the sword, but I was interrupted. The sword disappeared, and I realized you had taken it. I thought you had drowned, but after your horse was stolen, I began to figure it all out.

  It wasn't Patric I should have killed, it was you. Who are you anyway?"

  "Kitiara Uth Matar," she said proudly. "What is that to you?"

  His face showed that it was nothing to him. He had never heard her name before.

  "What do you want with Ursa?" Colo took up the questioning again.

  "It is not personal with me," the elf said arrogantly. "My mistress has paid well for him. She would pay more for you."

  "Who is she?" Kitiara demanded.

  "Luz Mantilla. A lady who wants revenge on the persons who murdered her beloved."

  "Lady Mantilla!" exclaimed Kit.

  "You have heard of her," the elf said with satisfaction. "She is a crazed person who has the money to employ the services of dozens of mages, spies, and assassins. Her life is devoted to finding the mercenaries who waylaid and murdered her fiancée, an innocent nobleman. There were five of them. We have only ever been able to name four. We don't dare return without the fifth—and that is you, Kitiara Uth Matar."

  "Return where?" asked Colo.

  The dark elf spoke with an almost sinister glee. "To a small, once-thriving kingdom on the other side of the Eastwall Mountains, now a land of rubble and death and dark magic. A hellish place. I have never been there. Kraven there—" he indicated the dead elf with an unsentimental nod "—he was the contact and the purser."

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  "I think I know where," said Kit to Colo.

  Colo pulled her aside so that they could speak out of range of the elf. They squatted in the moonlight, speaking in low tones. Colo's face was serious. "So you know something about this, after all?"

  Kit waited a moment before speaking. "It was one of Ursa's jobs. I tagged along and played a part to trick the pursuers. From what he told me, the job was botched and this Beck, a young nobleman, was killed."

  For an instant Kitiara flashed on that night—the memory of Beck, his lifeless face and mutilated body.

  "You didn't get the money?" asked Colo.

  "Well, I didn't get the money," said Kit with wry bitterness, "but the others did, Radisson, Droopface, Ursa and—" her voice faltered "—El-Navar. They cut me out of the payoff and rode off without me. Ursa gave me this sword as a 'reward,' Beck's sword." She indicated the sword in her hand, whose tip was restlessly prodding the ground.

  "Then?" asked Colo.

  "Beck Gwathmey was pledged to be married to a gentlewoman on the other side of the mountain," Kit continued. "A road was being built to seal the marriage. When he died, everything fell apart. I got stuck in a place called Stump-town for several months and heard a lot of gossip about what happened. Luz Mantilla went insane, people said, and murdered her own father. He had planned the ambush to prevent the marriage. She vowed to track down the hired killers. Nobody ever knew I was part of that business."

  "Except the other four," Colo said.

  "Radisson must have die
d before telling," Kitiara mused. "Nobody knows what happened to the Karnuthian. And now Luz has Ursa. . . ."

  "Where is this place?" asked Colo.

  "Across the channel, then a week's ride, hundreds of miles, through not one but several mountainous areas."

  "The magic wind must have taken them there."

  Kit said nothing. Both of them glanced over their shoulders at the dark elf. He stood there, knotted in rope with a tight loop around his neck, staring hatefully.

  "They don't know your name yet, that you were part of it," mused Colo.

  "Unless Ursa tells them."

  "If he is still alive."

  "That was so long ago," mused Kitiara. "Three years. I had almost forgotten. Except. . ."

  "Except what?" Colo looked deeply into her eyes.

  Kitiara averted her glance. "Nothing," she said.

  Colo got up and took a long draw of water out of a tin cup by the campfire, watching the dark elf. He laughed and spat in her direction. She went to their two horses and meticulously riffled the saddlebags, pulling out a few precious items—a heavy purse, some dried food, and a crumpled map that she held up with satisfaction for Kit to examine.

  "What are you going to do?" asked Kit.

  "What do you think?" replied Colo with annoyance. "I'm going to ride after Ursa. What about you?"

  "I—I don't know," said Kitiara.

  "Don't you owe that to a man who made love to you?"

  "What do you mean?" said Kit, flushed.

  "Ursa," said Colo. "I owe him that much. Don't you?"

  "I never made love to Ursa," declared Kitiara angrily.

  "You're lying."

  "No."

  Kit met her eyes. Long seconds passed. Colo had just started to turn away when Kit made up her mind.

  "I'll come," she declared.

  Colo pulled out the dagger she had taken from the dead dark elf and handed it over to Kit. "What about that one?" asked Colo pointedly. "He knows your identity now."