*
During the warming days, the snow had begun to melt slowly. At nights when it refroze, a shiny gloss of ice crusted over the white surface and hardened. Moving across the ground caused Niam to lift his legs higher than usual because the forward motion of his feet no longer displaced the ice. With each step the crust broke with loud crunching noises, and Niam strained to listen for any unusual noises that might be off cadence with the constant melt-water dropping from the tree branches above them. Loud crashes echoed through the woods as ice weakened and let go of its hold on tree branches, falling to the ground to shatter in an ecstatic crescendo of natural house cleaning. Niam held a long staff made of heat-tempered oak, and its weight gave him a measure of reassurance as they walked. Weeks ago, Joachim had insisted they go armed, though he found Niam’s choice none too pleasing.
“Here’s where I first noticed the footprints,” Bug said, pointing eagerly to the tracks in the ice.
“Looks like they’re average size,” Niam said.
“Definitely not a trall,” Davin agreed, “though melting snow makes reading tracks more difficult.” Then he turned to Bug. “Show me where they branch out and cut into the woods,” he said.
Bug led the way, and Niam saw immediately that she was right. The snow was worn by numerous passings, and furrowed grooves snaked through the woods in three directions. “These head off toward Joachim’s property and yours, Maerillus,” Niam said.
“Yes,” he growled. “Can’t help but wonder why . . . and who.”
“We’ll have to check the property lines to see if they come out or if someone’s been watching and try to figure out whether Bug was a target or just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I heard him as I ran errands to Mr. Sartor’s,” Bug added.
Maerillus nodded his head slowly. “We’ll get this figured out,” he said. “I’m about tired of all of this.”
“The trail runs back this way, toward the back of Siler’s Gorge.”
Indeed, the trail did carry them farther back into the deepening gloom of the gorge. The path they followed continued to show that someone had made many trips along its descending trail. At one point, as the path’s incline began to increase, they had to grab ahold of the long, thin saplings growing through the shadows in search of sunlight. Rocks emerged from the damp and partially frozen ground frequently enough to allow footholds for a cautious traveler to maneuver himself downward. The only problem was that some of the rocks were solidly fixed in place, yet others had a less secure purchase in the hillside, making them naturally concealed deathtraps.
Only the most diehard fishermen ever came this way, and then only to the landing just at the waters edge, where a natural game trail continued on around the treacherously narrow bank of Siler’s Lake.
Niam moved quickly but carefully ahead of everyone else. There was no way he was about to allow Bug to scout ahead where the trail grew increasingly dangerous. Suddenly, without warning, his foot slipped out beneath him. His hands shot reflexively out at the last moment, and he managed to grab ahold of two tree trunks to swing over to a cleft in the steep hillside. Below him, the loose stones bounded down, leaping off of rocks jutting out from the face of the path, clattering into the shadows below. “Careful!” Niam shouted as he went ahead of everyone else. “The rocks are covered in wet ice!”
“You okay!” Davin called out to him in a worried voice.
“It’ll grow back, Niam called back through gritted teeth. “No worries.”
“I can’t imagine anybody doing this enough to make the paths we saw in the snow,” Davin said in a strained voice.
Something caught Niam’s eye before he had a chance to reply. It was a little thing—almost imperceptible among the frozen rocks and muddy earth.
A bolt of fear arrowed through him. “Um, Davin! Come take a look at this!”
Several long moments later, Davin leveraged himself between Niam and a large rock and looked over Niam’s shoulder.
“I only saw this after I nearly slipped. Look and tell me what you see.”
A subtle transformation took place in a line of the footprints winding down from above. Indeed, where the incline they traversed was more manageable, the smoothly rounded outline of footprints shifted and altered with each step, and what looked like the impression of long toes tapering to sharply tipped climbing claws emerged.
Davin looked . . . blinked . . . and looked harder. “Oh!” he said darkly.
“What now?” Maerillus’s asked.
“Nothing you want to see,” Niam said.
“Is it a trall?” Bug blurted out fearfully.
“Strictly speaking . . . I don’t think so,” Niam said thoughtfully. And then to Davin, he motioned with his hands, “Look here and up there—the transformations occur several times and so far as I know, tralls transform from human to beast one time.”
Davin looked over at him and asked, “What do you think it might be?”
Niam gave him the only answer he could think of. “Something else.”
“Once we hit the bottom I want everyone’s weapons drawn and ready,” Davin said. Niam and Maerillus both nodded. At the bottom, they came to a small clearing. To Niam’s back the hill rose like an implacable wall of rock and earth, and directly in front of him lay the lake his brother and sister had died in, black as death, cold as the grave, and as still as a dead man’s heart.
Niam pulled his staff from its strap and twirled it to limber up his arms after the tense climb. The wood whooshed angrily in the air. To Niam this was a good sound, the sound of wood and air conspiring to wreak havoc on anyone stupid enough to come within striking distance.
Davin and Maerillus followed closely, and then Bug, who Davin had pushed to the rear. Niam insisted on taking the lead. When Davin protested, Niam said, “I have a better chance of feeling anything touched magic or sorcery.”
“My abilities kick in when danger’s close,” Davin argued.
Niam walked ahead without waiting to discuss the matter. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But when we’re storming a fortress you’ll be the first one in line.”
Davin huffed but left Niam enough room to employ his staff if things turned nasty. They followed the trail as it wound along the lake’s edge. Everyone grew quiet, because something dangerous might be waiting around the next turn. To the left, a narrow gorge opened up. Niam stopped and peered into the crevice. Because of narrow walls there, the sun rose late and set early in the gorge’s depths . . . and they were about as deep as they could go. Niam had never ventured this far past the little clearing at the foot of the steep and slippery path, and if they made this trip in summer or spring, the gap he peered into would have been concealed by the thick choke of shrubbery. Davin moved next to him and motioned toward the opening. Niam approached the spot silently and edged his way between a series of boulders. Beyond them a path opened up, smoothed flat by occasional flash floods.
After several hundred paces, the trail tapered to an end, where a large fall of rocks had been pushed from the slope over thousands of years at nature’s incessant nudging. The footprints in the snow continued onward over the rocks, which rose in giant steps to a height above the trees.
One rock, however, caught Niam’s eye. A large boulder sat near the top of the rock fall in front of a bare spot in the hillside. Sunken into the stone was a recess that two men could walk through side-by-side, and the closer Niam got to it, the more the air seemed to hum and pulse, causing his stomach to clench to the rhythm issuing from above.
Niam jabbed his finger toward it and mouthed the word, “Sorcery.” His friends’ faces grew determined as they held their weapons ready.
Niam scrabbled up the rocks. Just before he made it to the deep recess, he became awar
e that he was actually looking at the entrance to a cave. Before he could turn around and say something, a hand closed on Niam’s shoulder and he nearly jumped.
“Let me go first,” Davin whispered. “We’re about to storm the fortress.”
Davin led them forward cautiously into the murky entrance. When he turned back to Niam, his eyes glowed like two yellow stars. Niam decided to take Davin’s lead, and closed his eyes for a moment focusing on extending his senses outward and into the cave before him, feeling for the lines of power he knew were there, seeking out the tale-tell signs of sorcery.
As Niam did this, he realized just how much more finely attuned his senses were to the presence of magic. Behind them Bug gasped softly. Niam placed a finger over his lips and winked at her. Maerillus put an encouraging hand on her shoulder and mouthed the word, “Later.” Bug nodded her head, looking at their eyes in amazement.
Davin moved farther into the cave, and Niam’s feet crunched loudly on the pebbles carpeting the floor. If anyone was nearby, they knew someone had penetrated their lair. Yet no other sounds echoed along the stonewalls.
As Niam inched his way along, Davin disappeared around a corner, and said in hushed tones, “I think we’re alone.”
Niam stepped up his pace and emerged into an opening about the size of Joachim’s study. “Somebody’s been living here,” Davin said. “For a while from the look of things.”
Niam’s eyes rapidly took in his surroundings. The far end of the cave contained a fire pit against the stone face built using loose rocks. Over the pit ran a makeshift roasting spit. Reeds and straw had been laid down for bedding to soften the ground for a bedroll. Various pots sat along the wall several feet away from the hearth, and Niam saw that one of the pots was stained dark red, and for a moment his stomach twisted. He looked closely. The stains were too light to be blood. Beside the pot sat a rounded river rock stained on its bottom with the same dye. Whoever had been holed up in here appeared to have been using the rock to grind up dried berries.
“What is it?” Maerillus asked, keeping his voice only a little above a whisper.
Niam shook his head. “Not sure.”
A stack of wood sat piled neatly beside the fire pit, and an axe rested against the wall. Farther along the way, his eyes continued around the cave’s perimeter, moving past a large, oval shaped rock. The longer his attention rested on the rock, the more sour his stomach felt.
As he walked over to it, he caught minute sounds of furtive and desperate scraping against stone. Yet the wall in front of him was bare. Only rock met pebbles, and except for the campsite to his right, all else was bare. Moving closer now, Niam tilted his head, trying to identify the origin of the sound. Suddenly, he felt his eyes widen as he realized what he was hearing. “There are people back here!” he said, alarmed.
“What?” Davin’s tone echoed his own.
“More people,” Niam said. “They’re behind this round rock. It must be sealing them in!”
“Who would do that?” Maerillus asked in disgust, and from beside the rock, said, “He’s right. There are gouge marks where the rock has been rolled into place.”
Davin looked at the impression left on the cave floor and grimaced. “Hello!” he called out. “Can you hear me!?”
They waited to see if anyone heard Davin’s call. Nothing. The insistent scraping continued.
“Maybe they can’t hear us,” Maerillus offered. “Hit the wall with something.” He then began looking around for a rock.
“Got it,” Niam told them hastily, retrieving the river stone used to grind food in the clay pot. He carried it over to the seal and began striking the cave wall just to the side of it.
That got a response. The scraping stopped and was followed by a muted thudding from the other side.
“They heard us,” he said urgently. “Do you think you can help me move this?” Niam asked Davin.
His friend moved to his side and said eagerly, “I’ve been wanting to try something like this.”
Niam gave him space. Davin wiped his hands dry and got a solid grip on the sides of the seal. With a loud grunt, he put all of his weight into the stone, causing the muscles in his arms bunch up. The veins and tendons running down his neck slowly became taut, and his face reddened by degrees. Several long moments went by as sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Except for the sound of his friend’s labored breathing, the cavern remained silent. Davin roared as his body began to jerk against the seal. “Move you maggot infested dung heap! Move!” he growled. Niam watched as Davin’s face grew scarlet and blood began to trickle down where his fingertips dug into the abrasive stone surface.
A rough, grating sound issued from the cave floor. Inch-by-inch the stone slowly began to slide forward. Niam rushed in to help, but Davin shook his head violently. “No! This is mine!” In his eyes a fervid determination burned.
Davin strained and pushed, and slowly an opening large enough for a man to stoop and crawl through on all fours appeared. Within, black deepening into more black waited. When there was enough room for anyone trapped to escape, Davin fell back, panting.
For several moments all was silent.
Straining to use his gift to see what lay on the other side, Niam frowned. That was odd. Glowing lines of power surrounded several shifting shapes. Nervously, he moved forward to get a better view and was at last able to make out a number of people crawling across the floor, groping their way forward.
“They’re coming,” Niam said with uncertainty. He had a bad feeling about this. Why would someone glow with enough sorcerous energy to be this visible? “I think we should step back,” he said quickly. “There’s something wrong with these people.”
Behind them, Bug suddenly let out a sharp, terrified scream. The first person within the darkness began to emerge, a man wearing work overalls that fit his frame too loosely. The skin on his face was pulled tightly across his forehead, and his eye sockets were impossibly hollow, as if everything behind them had been drained out of his skull. The poor fellow’s skin was pallid and splotchy, and as Niam’s mind rapidly processed the sight, he knew why. The person crawling toward him had been dead for some time. Behind them, Bug screamed again.
“Trall!!!” she shrieked. And everything went to hell.
The Dread Lords Rising Page 83
