Horses—and men—panicked.
Zared found himself, and those who sheltered with him, almost overwhelmed by the first wave of attack. A pig knocked him to his knees, and he only just managed to run his sword through its left eye and into its brain before its teeth would have sliced into his throat.
He looked up. “Leagh!”
She had shrunk back among the horses—now rearing and plunging. A howling, naked boy of about ten was darting under the plunging hooves, trying to reach her. He held a great rock in one hand.
“Leagh!”
Zared tried to rise and go to her aid, but a cat sprang and wrapped its legs and claws about his head. Blinded, Zared jabbed the hilt of his sword into the cat’s body, over and over, until he felt its grip loosening.
Something massive and foul-breathed loomed to one side, and Zared ducked, flinging the body of the cat as far away as he could.
He tried to turn to meet the new threat, but something bit into the calf of a leg, and he grunted in pain, momentarily distracted.
The huge creature—an ox!—lunged, its forelegs stiff and murderous, but in the instant before it crushed Zared, something white flashed in from the side, and suddenly the ox had no head, and half its left side was gone as well.
It toppled to the ground.
Zared blinked, clearing his own blood from his eyes, then blinked again.
What? He had the hazy impression of something white, more massive even than the ox, moving swiftly through the mayhem.
There was an inhuman shriek, and he vaguely saw the boy who was attacking Leagh fall under the onslaught of the white beast. And there was another white creature, leaping the distance between his shelter and the one adjoining.
Was it a Demonic beast as well, that it could run between shelters?
One…roared? Zared blinked again. There. Yes! It roared, and swiped with a huge paw, and suddenly animals were scattering everywhere, fleeing back into the wilderness from whence they had come.
Zared concentrated, but he could not clearly see what it was that had come to their aid. The two white forms—they were so immense!—were leaping from shelter to shelter, and setting to flight any crazed animal that fell within their field of vision.
“Leagh?” Zared scrambled to his feet. “Leagh?”
“Here. Safe.” She emerged from behind one of the horses, now strangely calm, and looked at Zared.
“What was that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He made sure that Leagh was, indeed, unharmed, then moved among his men within the shelter. Some carried deep wounds, several were dead, but most had survived the encounter relatively physically intact. Their frightened eyes, however, made Zared wonder how well their souls had survived.
“Gustus?” Zared called to the next shelter and, gradually, as men shouted between shelters, he managed to get an idea of how badly his force had been hit.
High overhead, a swarm of Hawkchilds hissed and whispered in frustration. What had gone wrong? There had been an enchantment worked below—but what kind? How? They were far from any forest. Was not the Star Dance dead? Was it the stray magician or two that had aided the army below? They screamed, then veered north to commune with the Demons.
Also to the north, the brown and cream badger snapped and snarled his own force back into some form of order. They’d had their chance, and wasted it. But the badger had learned. He’d wait, and grow, and next time…next time…
Zared let the surgeon suture the wounds on his forehead—that cat had truly been murderous—and talked to Herme, Theod and Leagh through the man’s twisting fingers.
“What happened?” he asked.
Theod and Herme looked at each other.
“We were attacked—” Herme began.
“By what?” Zared snapped.
Leagh looked at Theod and Herme, and placed her hands on her husband’s shoulders, smiling her thanks to the surgeon as he packed his bag and left.
“They know no more than we do,” she said gently. “We were attacked by crazed animals.”
“They moved as one force,” Zared said. “Under direction.”
“Yes,” Herme said. “We knew that numbers of demented creatures wandered the plains, but we did not know of this organised force.”
“And the people among them,” Leagh shuddered. “I swear that I recognised one or two of those faces.”
“They were more animal than the creatures they ran with,” Theod said softly. “Is this what awaits all of us?”
“Unless Drago finds this Sanctuary,” Zared said, and stood up. He gazed slowly about, and eventually looked back at his wife and two closest friends.
“What was it that saved us?” he said, his tone almost a whisper.
“I don’t know,” said Herme, shifting from foot to foot. “But…but in the one brief glimpse of it as one lunged past me, I could have sworn…I could have sworn that it was an enormous bear.”
“Whatever,” Zared said, “we can afford to linger here no longer. Roll up the shade cloth, stow the poles, bury the dead, and put the wounded on horses or litters as need be. We must keep on moving.”
Herme glanced at Theod, then addressed Zared.
“Sire, there is a problem.”
“What?”
“When Theod and I collected the names of those dead and wounded, we discovered…”
“You discovered what?”
“We discovered that Askam, and some four hundred men, horses and weapons, had gone.”
24
The Dark Trap
Sicarius returned within five hours. Axis, who’d been sitting talking with the captain of the escort, slowly rose to his feet as he saw the hound enter the glade and sit down.
“Azhure,” Axis called softly, and she turned from grooming her horse.
“Sicarius?” she said, and the dog whined and shifted.
“There are no other hounds,” Azhure said, breaking into a large smile. “They must be waiting at…well, at whatever they have found.”
Both Axis and Caelum stared at the hound, wondering to what he would lead them.
“Do we wait the night…or follow Sicarius?” Azhure asked.
Axis hesitated, then made up his mind.
“Mount up!” he called, and men leapt to tightening girths and untying reins.
Sicarius led them northwards, then veered east. The land slowly rose towards the southern foothills of the Fortress Ranges. No-one in the group, not even any of the men among the escort, had ever explored the southern Fortress Ranges. They were rocky, barren hills, lofty and difficult to pass. Apart from the tunnel Azhure had once travelled with the two Sentinels and Rivkah, Axis knew of only one way through—the Valley, once known as the Forbidden Valley, directly north of the site of the now destroyed Smyrton.
“I sincerely hope there is another way through—or under—these Ranges,” Axis muttered, “for I do not wish to be out on their open slopes during those hours when the Demons rage.”
Azhure shot him an anxious look, but it was Caelum who responded. “Should we just ride for the Valley, father, and continue our journey through the Avarinheim?”
“Let’s see what this hound has found for us first,” Axis said, and spurred his horse after Sicarius’ form in the distance.
The hound led them to a square hole in a cliff face.
Axis reined in his horse. “A mine?” he asked, looking back at Azhure and Caelum.
“I have heard of no mines in this area,” Caelum said, frowning. “Several years ago I commissioned a survey team to see if we could cut a road through to the bay that opens into the Widowmaker Sea just south of here. It would have been useful to open that bay up as a port. But…”
“But?”
“The survey team reported back that beneath the surface soil, about an arm’s length down, was solid rock. It would be more than difficult to cut a road through here, especially as we would have to cut into some of the hills themselves to avoid disturbing Minstrelsea. So w
e gave it up as a bad idea.
“The team surveyed this entire southern line of the Ranges. No mines. And from what they’d reported to me, I cannot see how there could be any mines.”
Sicarius was sitting in the entrance way to the mine, watching them.
“Someone could have mined down a natural fissure in the bedrock,” Azhure said softly, her eyes on Sicarius rather than the dark opening of the mine. The pack must be waiting inside somewhere, for they were nowhere to be seen.
“The point is, mother,” Caelum said, “there was no mine opening here three years ago. And look!” His hand waved at the entrance. “Those beams are ancient, and the track that leads inside has been worn down over countless generations.”
“So what do you suggest?” Axis asked, looking steadily at his son.
Caelum shrugged. “We go inside. See where it leads.”
“It’s a trap,” Azhure said. “I can feel it.”
“As can I,” Axis murmured. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. One half of him was wary about riding into a black hole that stunk of entrapment, the other half of him yearned for a brutal fight so that he could ease some of his frustration at the events of past weeks with the swing and thrust of his sword. “I can smell it!”
Caelum looked between his parents, remembering Kastaleon. Then his stupidity had seen four and a half thousand men die. Here? Not four and a half thousand lives, but the hopes and dreams of a nation would be lost if they went inside and failed to meet whatever challenge awaited them.
“We could always swing north-west again,” he said, “but we have already lost a day, and will lose at least one more in recovering our ground. The hounds have led us here to this…possibility. We would be mad to ignore it.”
Caelum’s eyes slid towards Sicarius. Would he also be mad to ignore the fact that the Alaunt were not quite as “reliable” as they had once been?
“And if it is a trap?” Axis said.
“We have to risk it,” Caelum responded. “We need to get to Star Finger as fast as we can. But we also need to get there safely. We go in, but we post a guard of three men at this entrance with a fire. On our way through we post men at regular intervals—until we are down to five men—who will watch for the signal from the entrance that something attacks from our rear.”
“So our retreat will be secured,” Azhure said. “But what if the trap lies already set deep within the tunnel?”
Caelum grinned, a peculiarly charming and boyish gesture. “Then we deal with it as best we can, mother. Life is full of risks.”
Axis smiled also. Caelum had suggested what he would have done. “Good,” he said, and waved to the captain. “Station three men here—and tell them to keep sharp watch!”
The tunnel air was damp and peculiarly thick. Each rider held both reins and a burning brand in one hand, leaving one free to fight with. Small, sharp-edged stones littered the steeply sloping path, forcing the horses to a sliding walk.
Stars help us, Axis thought, if we have to retreat hurriedly.
On the other hand, the rock-littered floor would hinder any enemy as well. Save for anything winged, for within thirty paces of entering the tunnel the roof had lifted into cavernous proportions. The tunnel might only be some four paces wide, but it was at least twenty high.
Axis shivered.
At every turn in the tunnel he motioned a guard to pull in his horse and wait. He did not envy them their solitary vigil.
Before them Sicarius wove sinuously through the darkness, certain of his movements.
The three guards left at the mouth of the tunnel built themselves a bright fire and stood about it, nervously stamping their feet and clapping their hands as if cold, even though the air was mild.
“I’m glad I am not down that hole,” one muttered, and his companions nodded their agreement.
“Wish I was back with King Zared,” a second said.
“What?” the third remarked with forced jocularly. “Do you feel safer in a crowd, then?”
“I just feel safer with Zared.”
To that there was nothing to say, and the three lapsed into silence.
An hour passed.
“What was that?” one of them hissed suddenly. He spun about to his left, but there was nothing but the gently shifting trees. He turned again, but here was nothing but the steep cliff face. He turned yet again.
Nothing but the black hole.
“I don’t like it,” he muttered.
“No-one ever asked you to like your orders, Brandon,” one of the others said, “but only to—”
“There! Again!”
Brandon whipped about with his back to the tunnel. He pointed with a hand into the trees before them. “There! I am sure of it!”
His hand trembled slightly.
The other two exchanged glances, and hefted their swords.
All three stared into the forested gloom.
A shadow moved, and they jumped.
“Best signal the first man inside,” Brandon said, and bent down to the fire, but before he could grasp a torch something stepped out of the forest.
Brandon, as did his two companions, froze in horror.
They were used to the Icarii—but nothing like this. Even the tales of the Gryphon that their fathers told paled into insignificant bedtime stories compared to this abomination.
It walked at the height of a small man, but there the resemblance ended. Its head was almost that of a bird, except that its forehead was man-like, and its lower beak was not a beak at all, but a full, pouting lip. Its beaked mouth was open, and the men saw that it had no teeth, only hard-ridged bone where once had been gums. It had wings held out behind it—but at their tips clenched and unclenched small hands…a child’s hands, and that recognition made the horror even worse.
It walked forward on a bird’s legs, tufted with black feathers down to the mid-joint, and then scaled to end in a four-toed claw that alternatively flexed and splayed delicately as the creature walked.
It was entirely feathered in dull black.
“Hello,” it whispered, tilting its head to one side curiously. Abruptly, its head tilted the other way, as if the creature tried to view its prey from all angles, assessing the possibilities.
Completely frozen, none of the men moved or spoke.
“Hello,” it said again.
It had now walked to within several paces of the men, and Brandon finally found the courage to heft his sword before him.
“Who are you?” he challenged. “One of the Demons?”
The creature laughed, a peculiar dry whispery sound that sent chills of fear through the men. “Nay. I am a child, come to look for its home.”
It took a step closer.
“And for he who condemned me. Do you know of him? WolfStar?”
Suddenly whispers surrounded the men. They rippled in from all sides—seemingly coming from within the rock itself.
The creature spread its wings, and lunged.
Reflexively, Brandon thrust his sword forward—but it had hardly moved before he found his wrist grasped from behind.
A black-feathered wing had wrapped about him, and the small hand at its tip had caught at his sword arm with frightening strength.
There was one at his back!
Brandon twisted his head, registering that both his companions were now gripped by two of the creatures, but before he could do or say anything else, a beak sliced down into his neck.
“Blood,” whispered the creature in front, and sank its own beak into Brandon’s belly.
It withdrew, holding a lump of something wet and red in its beak. “This is what it feels like to die a murdered death, man,” it said, the words gurgling out past the lump of flesh. “Pity us, that we have had to wait so long for a revenge.”
Then, pitiless, the Hawkchild ripped the man apart.
The flock fed quickly, before, as one, they turned to the dark entrance. They lifted into the air and swept inside.
None of the se
ntries stationed along the way ever saw or heard them approach. The black-feathered Hawkchilds were absorbed by the darkness of the tunnel, and by the time they swooped down into the circle of light cast by the brand each sentry carried, it was far, far too late.
Axis, Azhure and Caelum were left with five of their escort when the tunnel abruptly levelled out—and changed.
It changed into the same kind of tunnel that Azhure remembered from her previous experience. The floor was coated with a hard, shiny black substance, and as soon as Axis’ horse placed its first hoof on it, a light blinked on overhead. Another lit up some five paces ahead.
Sicarius trotted ahead, lights blinking on as he went. After some forty paces the lights revealed the rest of the pack of Alaunt, sitting patiently in a group, waiting for Sicarius and those he led.
“No trap,” Axis said, his shoulder slumping in relief.
Azhure nodded. “The way will be easy from here on, if hard sleeping at night.”
She looked about. “I wonder how long we will have to travel this roadway?”
“As long as it takes us to get to Star Finger, I hope,” Caelum said. “Come, let us ride. This surface will allow us a good pace before we stop to rest.”
Axis murmured to the captain, and then signalled to the rear rider to go back and fetch the rest of the unit. It would take them a while to catch up, but catch up they would.
The rider died after the second turn he took.
They’d ridden for perhaps half an hour when Axis began to feel cold.
“Azhure?” he said, turning his horse slightly so he could look at her. “Do you—”
He stopped, appalled. Past Azhure and Caelum, past the remaining four men of their escort, at the very farthest reaches of the portion of the tunnel that still remained lighted, Axis saw a cloud of darkness billowing towards them.
Pilgrim Page 21
