Lenny narrowed his eyes at Edge’s mirth. “Har har. I get it. I’m a grown blasted dwarf, not some-.”
“That’s not it, Lenny,” Edge told him. He pulled his Jharro bow off of his back. “I really don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.” He grabbed the side of the bow and twisted, pulling a soft piece of gray wood free. The wood transformed in his fingers, forming a narrow ring. He held it out to Lenny and solemnly said, “Will you marry me?”
The dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow. “That ain’t funny.”
Edge chuckled. “I’m sorry. I was laughing at myself. I hadn’t considered giving you a piece of my bow before, because I figured your blood magic would interfere, but since we already have that partial bond it might work.”
Lenny grunted in curiosity and took it from him. He looked at his hands and considered which finger to put it on. The only ring he wore was on his left hand and it was the one Bettie had made for his wedding band. It was made of gold and silver intertwined. He placed the Jharro ring on the forefinger of his right hand, It didn’t want to go on at first, but it grew to fit.
“Don’t feel nothin’ different,” he said.
And now? said Edge in his mind.
Lenny jumped and a gap-toothed grin spread his face. “Holy hell, I hear you.” He tried sending his thoughts through the ring. CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Everyone winced.
“Ouch!” said Rufus, putting a hand to his head.
Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea, Artemus remarked.
Deathclaw appeared at the cave entrance and sent a mental hiss through the connection. You don’t have to think so loudly, Dwarf!
“Alright! Alright,” Lenny said, feeling embarrassed. Dag-gum! Is this better?
It is still loud, but it doesn’t make my head hurt, Squirrel remarked from his perch on Fist’s shoulder.
The dwarf smiled again, Is that Squirrel I hear? Ain’t never heard you before. You sound smarter than I thought you would.
Squirrel put his hand on his hips. Is that supposed to be a compliment?
“Uh, sorry,” said Lenny. Sorry.
Now that we have that settled, Edge sent as he replaced his bow on his back. It’s time we move.
The party left the cave and set back out, Deathclaw leading them. Lenny and Albert kept to the rear with the wooden orb hanging from the horse’s neck. Squirrel, feeling chipper this morning despite his age, climbed to the top of Rufus’ head and perched there to get a better view of the sands around them.
They kept in the shade of the rock formation, using it for cover as long as they could, then headed into the open desert. Deathclaw stayed a short distance ahead of them, extending his senses, keeping track of every territory marking.
Raptoid packs kept their territories marked with pungent internal scent glands that mixed pheromones with their urine. The scent penetrated into the sand and stayed in place fairly well, but it did fade over time as the wind changed the desert landscape. If raptoids weren’t hunting, they often patrolled the edges of their territory, re-marking places where the scent had faded.
Deathclaw did his best to keep his tribe on the side of the territory line with the strongest scent in the hopes that the pack wouldn’t soon return. The morning went by without major incident, the tribe working together quietly and efficiently. Lenny was enjoying his new ability to speak with everyone mentally through the ring. He spent time talking with Squirrel and had even started a spirited discussion with Artemus about great smiths of the ages.
As they traversed the sands, the mountain on the horizon loomed larger and larger. The snow-frosted slopes looked so tempting to the parched tribe. Just looking at it was a cruel reminder of the ridiculous heat that raged around them, kept at bay only by the magics protecting them.
The closer they came to the mountain, the easier it was to see the barrier that spread to either side of it. The barrier at the edge of the Known Lands had a faint shimmer to it that gave the air an ominous green tint. Edge realized that the desert sands extended beyond the barrier to the opposite sides.
Artemus, does the desert encircle the mountain entirely? Edge asked.
I asked John the same thing, the wizard replied. He said that it did, but would not say much more on the subject. He was more secretive than usual when it came to Alsarobeth. But Sarine and I speculated and felt that this place was likely a holy site for both sides of the barrier.
What does that mean fer us? Lenny asked curiously. Do we got a reason to want to be at Alsarobeth besides helpin’ Jhonate and getting’ the dark dagger back from that thief?
I would think not, Fist said. If the Prophet wants everyone to stay away from this site so badly that he would create such a deadly defense around it, I can think of no reason to-.
Dag-blast it! Lenny swore loudly into the bond.
What happened? Edge asked, looking over his shoulder at the dwarf.
Lenny sat slumped in his saddle, a sour expression on his face. Dag-gum armor failed again.
The dwarf got more and more miserable in the heat of late afternoon and Edge began to regret giving him the ring. It was one thing to hear a string of complaints aloud. It was another, to hear them loudly in your mind.
Edge, sent Deathclaw in a part of the bond where only he could hear. Can you make him quieter?
I could cut off connection with the ring, but that would be mean. He would notice it right away.
Then order him to be quiet, the raptoid replied. I cannot concentrate while he yells like this.
Why don’t you do it? Edge said. He would expect it coming from you.
Deathclaw hissed, then sent to Lenny, Dwarf-!
Len-wee! Shut UP! cried Rufus through the bond. My head hurts!
The dwarf’s eyebrows rose. Dag-gum. What? Was I loud?
Yes! said everyone.
Lenny became uncharacteristically silent. He sat in the saddle, sweating, his handlebar mustache in constant motion as he mumbled to himself. He took something round out of his pouch and began tinkering with it. Edge felt guilty, but the silence was actually kind of nice. Besides, they were in too dangerous a position to allow distractions.
As the sun set, they still weren’t out of the raptoid territories. Fortunately, Deathclaw found a place for them to wait out the night. He led them to a field of strange cacti that rose from the dunes like a forest of prickly trees.
They had many branches almost like a pine tree, but they weren’t very wide. Just tall. They were anchored in the dirt floor underneath the desert and some of them rose 12 feet in the air above the highest dunes.
What are them things? Lenny wondered.
They are not real cactuses, Deathclaw said. They are the tongues of monsters that live under the earth below. They are very sensitive and if any creature touches their needles, they wrap around it and drag them into the ground to be eaten.
Watch, Deathclaw said and ran a good distance away from the rest of them until he was near the outer edge of the wooden orb’s power. Then he picked up a rock and threw it at one of the cactus trees. The tall structure immediately coiled around the place where the rock had struck it and sunk into the sand. Raptoids know to avoid fields of tongues like these. They won’t come in here after us.
Lenny shook his head. Ain’t no gall-durn way I’m sleepin’ near one of them.
The orb will protect us from the creatures below just as it did in the swamps of Malaroo, Deathclaw assured him and returned to their side. He picked up another rock out of the sand and threw it at a nearby cactus tree. It quivered with the impact, but didn’t move. I still would not suggest you touch them. The needles are sharp.
Lenny grimaced as the others carefully made their way into the field of cacti to find a clear spot of ground to sleep in. Fist edged his way between them and Rufus wisely shrank down to the size of a dog before entering.
Maybe we can just ride on through the night? He asked hopefully. The moon should be out. Although no one was looking back at him, he pointed towards
the mountain. We can’t be that far from the edge of this blasted place.
Come on in, said Edge. Be careful leading Albert.
“I know to take care of my own damn horse, dag-blast it!” Lenny grumbled to himself, then followed after them. “Nasty dag-burned tongue forest.”
They found a reasonably-sized area clear of cacti where they could stop for the night. Though the cactus field would protect them from raptoids, the field was sparse enough that they didn’t make a fire or use a light orb. Deathclaw also recommended they keep all conversations mental because of how well the sound would carry.
Lenny glumly passed out rations and they drank some of the bland water Fist had produced. He hadn’t been exaggerating. There was something very unsatisfying about drinking it. He assured them that it would hydrate their bodies, but it did very little to quench their thirst.
Lenny was right about one thing, Edge said. We are getting close to the base of that mountain.
I was right ’bout lots of things, Lenny corrected.
How far do you think we are from the edge of the desert? Fist asked.
It is hard to gauge, Deathclaw replied. But I would say perhaps ten miles. We could be there tomorrow afternoon if we have no delays.
Then why’d y’all ignore me when I said we should keep goin? Lenny asked.
To avoid delays, Deathclaw replied. It is much more difficult to navigate the dunes at night. We could walk right into a raptoid pack . . . He cocked his head, his thoughts focused.
A chirping sound echoed through the night. A few seconds later a chorus of other chirps replied. Edge knew right away that these were no birds. Deathclaw sometimes made chirps like this when talking to his sister.
It is a pack, Deathclaw said. He stuck out his hand. No one move. Just listen.
Edge closed his eyes and focused on his ears, intensifying his sense of hearing. He could hear them now, striding around the exterior of the cactus fields, their feet scattering the sand.
Another chirp echoed out, followed by a hiss.
They know we’re in here, Deathclaw sent. They’ve found our tracks and are trying to decide what to do about us.
Would you like me to go out and kill them? Squirrel asked.
No! said Fist.
They all sat in silence for several minutes before the raptoids chirped again. Some stayed by the place where the party had entered. Others began to pace around the cactus field, looking to make sure they had not exited somewhere else.
This is quite the predicament, Artemus observed.
Do you recommend we stand and fight? Edge asked Deathclaw.
Yes! said Squirrel.
We should wait them out, Deathclaw said. If we make no noise, they may assume that the beasts under the sand ate us. That is if there is no breeze to give us away.
Or if the horse doesn’t snort, Artemus pointed out.
I can cast a spell of silence, Fist said. They will hear nothing, even if Lenny snores.
Hey, Rufus snores just as loud as me, Lenny complained. If you do this spell, will it still let sound in so we can hear ’em?
Yes, said Fist and he was already enacting the spell as he said it. A dome of golden magic rose over the group. It should be fine now.
If it’s alright to y’all, I’d still rather not talk out loud, Lenny said.
They waited for almost an hour before trying to sleep, but the raptoids didn’t let up on their patrols around the field. Eventually, Edge urged them all to try and push their worries aside and rest. Deathclaw and Rufus could take turns at watch. They would decide what to do in the morning.
Squirrel waited until Fist had fallen into fitful slumber before exiting his pouch, one cheek bulging. He was wearing the intricate scalemail vest that Bettie had made for him. The inside of the vest was stamped with protective runes and the metal scales on the outside were polished to a high shine.
On his head, he wore a helmet that she had made him to go along with it. It wasn’t magical, but it was in a fearsome dragon design with wicked metal teeth. Bettie had thought it was cute and had made it for him never intending for him to use it in battle. Squirrel felt it made him look formidable.
As he snuck silently away from the others his back was a little stiff, his hip sore. He knew he was old for a squirrel, but he refused to be like other squirrels. He wasn’t a mere rodent. He wasn’t just Fist’s pet as most people believed.
Squirrel was part of the Big and Little People Tribe, a founding member, and even though he was little, he had learned to be something more. He had spent time speaking with Deathclaw and when the raptoid wasn’t paying attention, he had stealthily picked through the raptoid’s memories. He had learned about the raptoid packs of Deathclaw’s past. He had learned of roles within packs and had come to understand something important. There was no room for weak members in a pack.
The Big and Little People Tribe were strong, but they had one flaw. They were made up of groups of individuals with different agendas. Many members of the tribe were scattered across the Known Lands. Often times even Fist and Edge lived many days of travel apart from each other.
Fist’s only bonded were Squirrel and Rufus. He needed a deathclaw. Even if Fist was scared to let him fight, even if he was old, Squirrel was determined to prove that he could still fill that role. And he had a secret weapon to help him do so.
Once he was out of sight of the other tribe members, he stopped and reached into his cheek pouch. He pulled out a green olive. It glowed black to his mage sight, proof of its potency. It was a Khalpan Olive, grown in the fertile homeland soil of the Pruball Elves, the most concentrated form of elf magic possible outside of drinking their blood directly. Just having it in his cheek pouch had left him abuzz with energy.
Squirrel had stolen it from Mistress Dianne’s stash. These olives were the secret to her youthful looks at the ripe age of 200. He hoped to extend his life at least another ten years, maybe longer.
He wasn’t sure how much was the correct amount to eat. He had bitten a tiny piece a few days ago and had felt better than he had in years. What would happen if he ate the whole thing? He shook his head. Better to try a few bites first.
The flesh of the olive was bitter and vinegary, but the moment that he swallowed, a flood of energy filled him. It was a feeling similar to when Fist healed him but a great deal stronger. His aches and pains fled.
He stopped after just a few bites, eating only a quarter of the olive before stuffing it back in his pouch. He felt strong enough to fight an army of raptoids, which was essentially what he was about to do.
He reached into his bond with Fist and withdrew strands of air magic, then formed the complex spell that turned him invisible. A second air spell muffled the sounds of his footsteps in the sand. He had practiced these spells so often that they came second nature to him now. Fist wouldn’t be able to feel the drain on his power. One advantage to being small is that it didn’t take a lot of magic to hide him.
Squirrel skittered between the branches of the deadly cactuses, careful not to touch any of the needles, and headed towards the chirping sounds of the raptoids. Deathclaw thought there were at least a dozen. He counted the sounds of ten different creatures pacing around outside the cactus field.
He drew closer until he saw them. The raptoids were just as he had seen in Deathclaw’s memories, lean and vicious looking, every part of their body a weapon. He had often considered how he would go about killing one of these creatures. It was time to find out if his ideas worked.
Squirrel watched them carefully, trying to determine which one was the leader. It wasn’t easy for him to pick out at first, but then he noticed one of them that was slightly larger than the others. It had gray scales that gleamed in the moonlight and when it was stalking outside the cactus field, sniffing at the tribe’s tracks, the other raptoids watched.
This was his target. Squirrel felt an eagerness rise within him. He adjusted his invisible helmet with his invisible hands, then reached his thoughts back in
to the bond. He pulled out several more threads of air, then touched Fist’s connection with his mace.
Squirrel darted towards the raptoid leader at a speed twice what he was normally capable. His steps were silent, the only signs of his passing small puffs of sand. The raptoid was so intent on the tracks, he didn’t sense Squirrel coming. He ran up the raptoid’s body, blades of air extending from his claws.
The raptoid pack cocked their heads in confusion as blood sprayed from the joints on their leader’s left leg, then up his back. The leader screeched and collapsed as its leg gave out. Before it hit the ground, a final slash opened its throat.
Squirrel sprung away from the dying raptoid, narrowly avoiding the convulsing slices of its claws as its lifeblood soaked into the sand. The pack took a wary step back as their leader writhed in his death throes. They looked around for the attacker, focusing on the cactus trees that they already knew were dangerous.
Thrilled by the efficiency of his first kill, Squirrel didn’t let up. He headed towards the next largest raptoid and ran between its legs. He slashed out with another blade of air and cut off its foot at the ankle joint.
The surprised raptoid didn’t know what had happened to it at first. It felt a sting in its foot and stumbled. Then its other foot came off and it hit the sand, looking with confused eyes at the stumps at the end of its legs.
The raptoids around their wounded packmate cocked their heads as another blade of air slashed its belly open. Other kinds of animals might have scattered after two such gruesome attacks, but raptoids lived in the most dangerous environment in the Known Lands. There were hundreds of dangerous enemies that could attack in various ways. Instead of panicking, they looked carefully to see where the attack was coming from.
Squirrel came to a sudden stop, avoiding a raptoid’s tail that slashed through the air in front of him. The creature’s sharp barb could have torn him in two. Instead, he lashed out and the severed barb rolled across the sand.
He realized that he had made a mistake killing two raptoids that had been standing so close to each other. The rest of the pack converged on his position, their claws slashing at the sand as they looked for the invisible attacker. Their nostrils flared. They had caught his scent now. Squirrel needed to change his strategy. He formed another spell.
Sir Edge Page 29
