“It was when we found it three months ago,” Dhal answered. “But tell us about the Tamorlee? Is it—”
“They have all gone to Jjaan-bi,” the old Ni said. “With all of us gone, it would be the only thing left to them.”
Poco shook her head, confused by the old Ni’s muttering. “Old One, what is your name?” she asked, hoping to calm him.
The old Ni looked at her. “My name is Retath. I was once the—”
A loud clanging of bells came from the temple down in the valley. The old Ni jumped at the sound and looked back into the field. “They are coming for us,” he cried. “You will have to go! If they see you, you are lost!”
“Who is ‘they’?” Dhal demanded, growing uneasy under the frightened eyes of the old Ni.
“They! The atich-ar! We thought they were our friends! We thought we could trust them, but they betrayed us to gain the Tamorlee! They killed most of our Singers and Sensitives, those who could make and hold the gate between our worlds; then they tried to force the Seekers to work with them. But we wouldn’t! Even though they tortured some of us. When we brought the Tamorlee through the world gate we numbered one hundred and thirty. Now we are but thirty-seven.”
“Where is the Tamorlee?” Dhal interrupted. “Down in the temple?”
“Yes! And there it will remain until the atich-ar learn how it functions; then they plan to invade Lach in order to seize more of our gifted ones. This we know!”
“Invade Lach?” Dhal repeated, incredulous. “Are they strong enough to do that?”
“Yes,” the old Ni snapped. “They have many fighters to call upon and they have our Seeker rings and the Tamorlee knows the pattern for the I-naal gate!”
“The Tamorlee would not betray the Ni-lach!” Dhal said fiercely.
“It has not, so far,” the old one said. “But how long before someone among the atich-ar learns how to tap the core of knowledge buried within the crystal? They experiment all the time. They try to use those of us who are left, but—”
“Someone is coming this way, Dhal!” Poco said quickly.
The old Ni turned to look, then he was pushing them back further into the woods. “Go quickly! They have not seen you! Go to Jjaan-bi and warn our people about the atich-ar! Tell them to guard the I-naal gate! Tell them to—”
Dhal grabbed the old Ni by the arm. “Come with us! We will need your help to find Jjaan-bi! We do not know where it is!”
Retath hesitated a moment, then he was running beside Dhal, the fear in his eyes replaced by hope. “The gate,” he panted, as the grade grew steeper. “Who holds the gate for you?”
“A friend,” Dhal answered.
Dhal looked behind him and saw two long-haired Ni hit the bottom of the slope behind them. They were clothed in open vests and short pants; their feet were shod in sandals. But what captured Dhal’s attention were the long, curved blades they carried; a single blow could easily decapitate an opponent.
“Move, Poco!” Dhal yelled. “They are right behind us!”
“Where are we going?” she yelled back.
“The gate! Hurry!” he answered.
Poco ran up the incline, dodging small trees or using them for handholds. She turned once to see Dhal and Retath close on her heels. The enemy atich-ar who scrambled upslope behind Dhal were silent in their pursuit as they concentrated all of their energies on catching up with the fugitives.
Poco reached the place where she and Dhal had stood overlooking the temple, and ahead of her saw the circle of mist which marked the gate to their own world; there was a greenish cast to the mist, something she had not noticed before.
Poco stopped before the world gate and turned. A few running steps brought Dhal to her side. He thrust Retath into her arms. “Hold onto him,” Dhal cried. “Do not let go! We will try to take him back through with us!”
One of the atich-ar raced toward them, his sword upraised. Suddenly Retath pulled free and lunged forward, straight into the path of the atich-ar. “Go!” Retath yelled. “Forget about me!”
The oncoming speed and weight of the enemy atich-ar carried Retath back into Poco. The old Ni grunted in pain as he fell against her.
Poco knew a moment of disorientation as she was pushed backward through the world gate. In one instant the wooded hillside was gone. She looked at the forest of tall grass which surrounded her and knew she had returned to their camp on the High Plains.
Retath was suddenly heavy in Poco’s arms; his body slipped to the ground. Before she could change her grasp on his arms, she was bumped from behind. She fell over Retath and landed on her right elbow, jarring her shoulder and head.
Poco rolled free of the old Ni and turned to see Dhal grappling with the atich-ar who had attacked them. Somehow Dhal got his leg hooked around and behind his opponent’s leg, pushing the atich-ar off balance. They fell together, the atich-ar on the bottom.
Poco started to go to Dhal’s aid, but suddenly Retath pushed himself up onto one elbow and caught at her ankJe. “The gate!” he cried.
Poco kicked free.
“The gate!” Retath cried again. “Close the gate before others come through!”
Poco glanced at the mist-shrouded gate, then looked at Taav. In that instant she understood what the old Ni wanted. She ran to Taav and knelt before him. She looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of the wooded hillside overlooking the temple.
Suddenly there was something else there—a tall dark shadow. No, Poco thought, not a shadow—another of the atich-ar!
“Behind you!” Retath yelled suddenly.
Poco turned. A second atich-ar had joined the first one!
Unaware of the danger behind him, Dhal fought on, his head down to protect his face and throat from the fist of his opponent.
Gi-arobi’s shrill, whistled warning sounded as Poco launched herself at the second atich-ar. Her knife sank into his back just as he raised his sword to slash down at Dhal’s unprotected neck.
The atich-ar cried out and stumbled backward several steps, shaking Poco free. Before she could recover her balance, he turned and the flat of his sword struck Poco’s shoulder, knocking her down.
As he raised his sword for a second blow, he faltered and fell to one knee. Poco saw her chance. Fear giving her an agility she did not know she possessed, she leaped from the ground and locked her hands around the atich-ar’s wrist.
The atich-ar twisted to one side and Poco lost her balance. At that moment the atich-ar brought his knee up, catching her full in the stomach. Her feet left the ground, then she was falling. A blur of grass was followed by a moment or two of darkness as the breath was driven from her lungs.
The darkness cleared and Poco found herself curled into a tight ball. She opened her eyes and saw the atich-ar pushing to his hands and knees; his crystal eyes were filled with pain and anger.
Suddenly, a small, red-brown ball of fur darted between Poco and the enemy atich-ar. The atich-ar cried out as Gi’s teeth caught in his lower arm just above the wrist. He dropped his sword and tried to shake Gi off; then he clouted Gi on the side of the head and the olvaar sailed through the air. Poco heard the whoof of air escaping from Gi’s lungs as he landed on his back some few feet away.
As the atich-ar rose unsteadily to his feet, Poco saw her knife sticking out of his back. He turned and looked at her. She rolled to a sitting position, reached out, and snatched up the sword he had dropped.
“The throat!” Retath croaked. “Aim for the throat!”
The atich-ar came at her again. Poco brought the sword around in a slashing arc.
She felt the sword strike flesh, then something wet and warm splattered against her face as the atich-ar’s weight hit her waist. She was knocked backward to the ground.
Poco had seen death before, and had witnessed more than one brutal fight on the docks of Port Bhalvar, but she had never had to kill in order to survive. Frantic to get out from under the dying atich-ar, she pushed his twitching body aside and swallowed quickly, trying to
keep from being sick.
Poco turned from the gory thing that lay beside her and saw Dhal just getting off the body of the other atich-ar.
He saw her blood-smeared tunic and hurried over. “Poco, where are you hurt?”
Poco felt as if she had been pummeled by a herd of draak, but somehow she had escaped being cut by the atich-ar’s blade.
Dhal used his hands to wipe the blood from her face and neck, frantically searching for the wounds he feared to find. Poco pushed his hands aside.
“It is not my blood, Dhal,” she said. “It’s his.”
Dhal glanced at the nearby body. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and drew in a shaky breath. “What about Retath? Is he all right?”
Dhal left her and went to the old Ni. A moment later he looked up, shaking his head. “He is dead, Poco. He must have been wounded just as we came through the gate.”
At the word “gate,” both Dhal and Poco turned to look for Taav. He was sitting quietly right where they had left him, seemingly undisturbed by the fighting which had gone on around him.
“The gate, Dhal,” Poco said quickly. “Retath said to close the gate before any more of the atich-ar could come through! Wake Taav! Hurry!”
Dhal knelt before Taav. He looked into Taav’s eyes a moment, then glanced back to see that the mist which showed the passageway between the two worlds was still evident.
Dhal touched Taav’s forehead with his fingertips. “Wake up, Taav. Let go of the gate!” Dhal’s voice was soft but urgent.
Poco rose just as Taav collapsed into Dhal’s arms. She started to go to them, then hesitated when she saw something move in the grass. A soft, whistle-click reminded her that there was one more defender unaccounted for.
She found the olvaar lying in the shadow of the tall grass.
“Dhal! Come quickly!” she said, when she saw the strange angle of the olvaar’s legs and back. “It’s Gi! He has been hurt!”
Gi’s golden eyes were clouded with pain; he whistled mournfully as Dhal knelt beside him.
“Don’t move, Gi,” Dhal said softly.
“He tried to help me,” Poco said. “He bit the atich-ar in the wrist and made him drop his sword. If he had not, I—”
Dhal interrupted her. “Not now, Poco! I will have to go in and see what is wrong with his back. Keep watch!”
Poco cringed at Dhal’s harsh tone and backed out of the way. She watched as Dhal dropped into rapport with the olvaar. Gi’s eyes closed and gradually his rapid breathing slowed.
Minutes passed. Poco kept an eye on Taav but remained where she was, ready in case Dhal needed her for anything. She had already forgiven him for snapping at her. She knew how much Gi meant to him, and she prayed that the olvaar was not beyond his help.
The sky was getting dark by the time Dhal stirred from the joining.
“Is he going to be all right?” Poco asked.
Dhal looked at her and nodded.
“What was wrong?” she asked.
“There was a slippage of one of the vertebra in his spine. I had to move it back into place. He will probably be lame for a few days, but if we keep him moving, he should be fine.” Dhal’s voice was heavy with fatigue. “Has Taav wakened?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” she answered.
“Probably just as well.”
Poco looked down at the olvaar. “Will he sleep for a while?”
“He should until morning.”
“You look tired,” she said, remembering how the use of his healing powers drained Dhal.
“I am,” he admitted.
Poco looked at the dead bodies scattered around them. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s wash this blood off, then I will take care of things here while you go and tell Screech what has happened.” He touched her shoulder. “All right, Poco?”
Poco nodded, thankful that Dhal was willing to take charge. Her glance fell on the old Ni. “I wish Retath had lived. He could have answered a lot of questions for us.”
“In a way, he did,” Dhal said. “We know where the Tamorlee is and we know that somewhere there is a Jjaan-bi.”
Poco looked at the bodies of the atich-ar, a worried frown marring her face. “We also know that in that other place there are Ni like those two, who plan to use the Tamorlee to invade Lach—or so Retath said.” She looked at Dhal. “But how do we know if Retath was speaking the truth? Dhal, there are a few atich-ar among the Ni. Those two we killed, who were they really?”
“Retath spoke of betrayal, and of those who took the Tamorlee from Val-hrodhur.”
“Yes, but who betrayed whom? If there are Ni on both sides of a fight over possession of the crystal, whose side are we on? Which side is right?”
Dhal glanced at Retath, then at the atich-ar. “I understand what you are saying, Poco, but—”
“But what?”
“The atich-ar tried to kill us. They never once tried to speak to us.”
“So?”
“So I would rather believe that Retath was telling us the truth, and I think we should go on to Jjaan-bi and do as he asked us to do.”
“All right, if that is what you want,” Poco said. “Let’s just hope that if and when we reach Jjaan-bi, we find ourselves among friends, not enemies.”
Chapter 12
POCO WASHED THE BLOOD FROM HER FACE, NECK, AND hands, then built a small fire and put some water on to boil. “The tea water should be ready by the time I get back,” she said.
She stood and looked at Dhal. “Are you sure you do not want some help digging?”
He looked up from his work. The ground was dry, but the atich-ar blade he wielded seemed to be doing a good job of breaking up the hard-packed earth.
“No,” he said. “Go and find Screech and tell him what happened. I will see to things here.”
“Make it a shallow grave,” she advised. “I will help you cover them when I get back.”
Dhal nodded and continued to dig.
Poco found Screech sitting cross-legged on the ground, licking at his claws and furred fingers. The chest harness and sword that Dhal had purchased for him in Bannoc lay within easy reach. Behind him he had prepared a pallet of grass for sleeping; the sky was growing darker by the minute.
Poco coughed a greeting as she approached.
Screech replied in kind, then signed, “Why here?”
“Something has happened, Screech,” she answered.
“Trouble?”
Poco shook her head. “The trouble is past, I hope.”
“Sit and tell.” Screech patted his grass pallet.
Poco nodded and took the proffered seat. She noticed that Screech’s outer ring of eye-fur moved as he sniffed the air.
“I smell blood. Whose?”
“It is atich-ar blood you smell.”
“Taav is hurt?”
“Not Taav. Another atich-ar.”
The derkat eyes narrowed. “Tell me what has happened. ”
Ssaal-lr listened without interruption as Poco spoke. When she came to the part about killing the atich-ar with his own sword, Screech growled softly.
“You did well,” he signed. “I am proud you are my radg.”
Poco was not sure she should be proud of a killing; that was not as Trass had taught her.
“Was the Healer hurt? Taav? Little Fur?” Screech asked.
“Dhal and Taav are fine, but Gi was injured while trying to protect me. Dhal used his healing powers to—”
Suddenly Screech stiffened. A second later his furred hand pressed against her lips. With his other hand he signed silence.
Reading finger movement was difficult in the semi-darkness, but Poco nodded, telling Screech she understood.
“What is it?” Poco signed, as Screech took his hand away from her mouth.
“Listen!”
Poco sat quietly, her ears tuned to the sounds around them. What did Screech hear that she did not? Her thoughts jumped from one possibillity to another. Draak? Gensvolf? Had
they not closed the world gate properly and had more atich-ar come through?
The moments of silence stretched into a minute. Screech turned his head and sniffed the air.
“What do you smell?” Poco asked.
“Derkat. Close.”
“One?”
“Many.”
“Dhal! We must warn him!”
Poco was moving before she had finished signing, but Screech was faster. He caught her around the hips and dragged her down, smothering her cry of protest by pressing her face into his furry chest.
She struggled but a moment before realizing that each of her movements was countered by a tighter grip which was crushing the breath from her lungs. She forced herself to relax, remembering that the one who held her was Screech and not an enemy.
When Screech felt her go limp, he loosened his hold, though he did not release her completely.
Suddenly she became aware of movement in the tall grass off to her left. A soft swishing sound evoked in her mind a picture of derkat moving with practiced stealth through shoulder-high grass. She lifted her head and peered over Screech’s shoulder, but the night had grown too dark to see anything but the tops of the grass swaying to movement below. A bubble of fear caught in her throat as she thought of Taav and Dhal in camp, unaware of their danger.
Frantic with the need to warn Dhal, Poco tried to push away from Screech. The arms about her tightened once more. Screech knew it was too late to help anyone; all they could do now was to stay quietly where they were and hope they were overlooked in the confusion of the attack about to take place.
A loud, ear-splitting cry made Poco jump—that sound came from no human throat. The first cry was followed by others. Derkat! A lot of them!
“Let me go, Screech! We have to warn—” Poco’s face was pushed into fur. She strained against Screech’s arms and legs, shaking with muffled cries of protest until she finally lost consciousness.
Cool, fresh air rushed into Poco’s lungs; at first she could not seem to get enough. Screech was lying half on top of her and she could feel his warm breath against her face. She ignored the furred fingers that stroked her upper right arm and lay still, listening.
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