The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 21

Suddenly, as he viewed the neighboring island, a feeling of dread clutched his heart. He glanced quickly behind him as if expecting some creature of nightmare to be pouncing toward him, but the rolling green hills stood empty.

What was this fluttering of his heart? This was his home. What should he fear? He stared at the view off the cliffs. The sweep of ocean, wind, and rain seemed strangely familiar, more than just a memory of home. This very picture-the distant island disappearing into cloud, the crash of angry water at his feet, the sting of spray on his cheek-not only had he stood here before, but he had stood at this exact moment before. But when?

He tried to organize his thoughts, but a rising panic rattled him. He had a sudden urge to ran. But before he could act on this thought, his feet began to move on their own, not carrying him away to safety, but toward the edge of the cliff! As in many dreams, he could not stop. It was as if his body were a carnival puppet through whose eyes he peered. He could not stop his feet as they continued forward. As he fought, he watched his right foot step into open s.p.a.ce.

Now he remembered! Not only had he been here before, he had done this very thing. A welling pain escaped his breast in a scream as his body tumbled off the cliff. "Linora!"

As the water-churned rocks flew toward his face, words tolled in his head, in a cold, familiar tongue, laced with black humor. Dismarum's voice said, "Don't worry, Rockingham, I'll catch you again."

Laughter echoed as he hit the waves.

Rockingham sprang awake in the old man's cottage, tasting blood in his mouth. His underclothes were drenched in sweat as if he had ran a long race. He struggled to sit up, but the ropes held him.

Suddenly a rough hand clamped over his mouth. He tried to scream, but the palm blocked all sound."Silence or die," someone whispered in his ear. Rockingham felt the blade of a knife at his throat. He stopped struggling. The weapon lifted from his neck and sliced his ropes free.

Rockingham pulled his arms down and rubbed his wrists. The bulky shadow of the mountain man loomed beside his bed. "Get dressed. Hurry!" Krai growled at him.

He noticed the small woman, Nee'lahn, fully dressed and peering through the tiny window. "Quickly!"

she said. "Both are inside. The way is clear. Once we reach the horses, we can draw them after us."

"What is going on?" Rockingham asked as he tucked his shirt into his pants. He bent to his boots.

"Skal'tum," Krai answered.

Rockingham sped his efforts, pouncing into his boots.

Now was not the time to be caught by the Dark Lord's lieutenants. He had no bargaining chip. "Where is the girl... and the others?"

Krai ignored the small man's question. He pushed him toward the window, not knowing why the woman had insisted on hauling the prisoner along. Rockingham should have been left to the teeth and claws of the beasts. But Nee'lahn had insisted.

Nee'lahn slowly worked the window open. Crashing sounded from below. "Do you think they're safe?"

she whispered.

He stayed silent, unsure and reluctant to voice his fears. If only he had sensed the approach of the beasts earlier. Krai had found himself with only enough time to hurry down and kick the cellar door shut before the first skal'tum had begun digging at the cottage's door. He had barely escaped back up the stairs himself.

"Will they be hidden long enough for us to get to the horses and draw the monsters away?" Nee'lahn asked, propping the window open.

"The cellar door is well disguised."

"Still, we must hurry!" With the window now wide open, she climbed through the frame onto the thatched roof.

Krai picked up the prisoner and shoved him over the windowsill. The thin man rolled across the roof, almost tumbling from the edge. Krai wormed through the window next, having to blow all the air from his wide chest to give him room to squeeze through the narrow frame. His belt caught for a difficult moment on the sill before finally popping free and allowing him to scoot the remainder of his bulk through to the roof.

"Like a cow giving birth," Rockingham commented to no one. His flippant words, though, could not hide the wary crinkle of his brow or the way his eyes kept darting to all corners of the roofline.

Nee'lahn stood at the roof's edge. The horse barn with its crooked doors and spa.r.s.e thatching stood just a stone's throw from her. "We could jump from here," she whispered. "Or work our way to the back of the house and climb down the woodpile."

As answer, Krai leaped from the roof to land with a m.u.f.fled thud on a heap of dead pine needles. He waved the others down. Nee'lahn pointed for Rockingham to go first, obviously distrusting the man. He did not need goading. The speed with which he slipped to the edge of the roof suggested he, too, did notwelcome an encounter with what tore through the lower rooms. He hung from the roof's edge for a moment, then let go to land near Krai.

Nee'lahn adjusted her pack and glanced down to them. Krai took a step forward to catch her if needed.

As she hesitated a breath at the edge, a splintering crash erupted from the bedchamber behind her.

"Hurry!" Krai called. But he need not have spoken. Nee'lahn had already launched from the roof.

The word "Run!" blew from her lips as she landed on her feet. Before Krai could get his large bulk moving, she was off and darting for the horse barn. She flew like a fluttering leaf. Krai thudded after her, herding Rockingham ahead of him.

He heard gla.s.s shatter behind him, and the explosion of burst planks. He twisted his neck and saw a dark form driving through the window above, claws scrabbling at the thatched roof. It seemed trapped, but from the way it thrashed, it would be free in a heartbeat. He drove faster, shoving Rockingham forward.

The townsman stumbled, but Krai caught his shoulder and kept him on his feet.

Krai saw that Nee'lahn had already disappeared into the horse barn. By the time he reached the crooked door with its cracked rawhide hinges, the woman had two of the horses- the girl's gray mare and the plainsman's chestnut stallion- already in tow. His own war charger, Rorshaf, would not allow the woman near and stood snorting and digging an iron-shod hoof into the dried manure. His black flanks heaved in excitement, apparently sensing the foul beasts afoot. Krai clucked his tongue twice, and Rorshaf settled his hooves.

Nee'lahn slid bareback atop the chestnut stallion and tossed the reins of the small mare to Rockingham.

Krai noted with satisfaction that she had tied a lead from the mare to her stallion, not trusting the prisoner to stay with them. The mare fought Rockingham's mounting, but Krai-busy with his own beast-could not fault the man's garrison training. He stayed on the back of the horse and managed to gain control.

Krai tossed his saddle and packs atop Rorshaf and yanked the strap to secure it. In a heartbeat, he was mounted. He patted one of his packs at his thigh. Its fullness told him that no one had disturbed its contents.

He led the way to the barn door and kicked it wide.

A large shape crashed to the dirt and rock before him. His war charger, who would run through fire with nary a flinch, reared and snorted in fright. Krai twisted his fist in the reins and fought to keep his seat.

Before him, with wings swept wide, stood another of the Dark Lord's lieutenants. The skal'tum hissed at the rearing horse and blocked the way forward. Krai finally, with a savage yank on the bit, convinced Rorshaf to keep his hooves planted. The other horses and riders had edged back deeper into the ramshackle barn. But in there lay no safety; this beast would not be stopped by rotted and warped boards. Krai kicked Rorshaf forward, and for the first time since broken to the bit, his stallion refused his command. He kicked again with more heel. The horse ignored him, terror holding it frozen.

Krai leaned forward in his saddle, his pommel digging into his stomach, to reach his mount's ear. "

Rorshaf, partu sagui weni sky," he clucked in the tongue of the crag horses, a language all mountain folk knew as well as their own. Krai was the best of the Whisperers in his clan. Some said he was born to the fire speaking the language of the crag horses. Still, as skilled as he was, it took all his coaxing to work the fear from Rorshaf's heart and to get his mount to attend him.

The war charger began to respond to Krai's hands on the reins. Krai tapped his flanks, and the horse edged a few paces closer to the skal'tum.The winged beast's ears swiveled forward and back, gauging the situation. The claws of its feet had dug deep into the soil. A greenish ooze dripped from the daggered tips of its claws as it opened and closed its fists. Fangs showed from between thin lips, and in the scant moonlight, its eyes were black pits with red-hot coals glowing deep within. The motion of the horse drew the monster's full attention.

"Where iss the girl child?" the skal'tum spat toward him. "Give her over, and we will let you die quickly."

Behind its words, Krai sensed fatigue in the beast. Its breathing rasped across the empty s.p.a.ce. It had labored hard to arrive here so quickly. With luck, Krai might be able to distract the monster long enough to allow the others to escape. He thumbed free his ax from his saddle harness and pulled it to his lap.

Kicking his horse to a lunge, he sped directly at the beast. A roar barreled from his throat in a battle cry of his clan. Krai swung his ax high.

As Krai had hoped, exhaustion and surprise forced the skal'tum back two steps before it could rise to its full height. It was enough; there was room enough for a horse and rider to slip behind Krai and out to the dark woods. "Go!" he screamed at the others. He did not have to call twice. A rush of thundering hooves pa.s.sed behind his mount's rump. He dared not follow their progress, his eyes fixed upon the claws and teeth of the skal'tum.

The skal'tum, though, saw some of its prey scurrying away. It lunged at Krai just as the last of his companions raced past behind him. A lightning swing of his ax bounced back a flash of poisoned talons from his face, and a downward bat of his hickory handle knocked away a clawed kick at his mount's belly. Krai guided his horse with slight movements of his legs and shifts of his weight. Rorshaf became an extension of his own body. Where horse and man met became a blurred line of muscle and will.

The skal'tum backed a step, its chest heaving with exertion. "You fight well, man of rock. But the night iss mine."

Krai danced his ax in his hand, but it was a useless show of skill. He knew his fight with the beast was hopeless. As his previous battle with this beast's brethren had taught him, dark magick protected the skal'tum from harm. With the sun far from rising, Krai could not maintain this stalemate. Sooner or later, a claw or fang would slip through his defense. His best hope was to buy time for Nee'lahn and the garrison man to escape, then lure this beast away from the cottage-if he lived that long.

The skal'tum waited, its breathing becoming less labored as it rested. It was in no hurry to finish him off, toying with him. Apparently it knew the child it sought was not among those who had escaped on horseback. Krai sat straighter in his saddle. He had given Nee'lahn and the others time enough to flee. If he was to die here, let him die swinging his ax and on the back of the steed he had raised from a foal. He swung his ax above his head, meaning to challenge the beast to lunge. It did-cursed predictable beast!

Now to bait it away from the cottage.

Krai reared his horse, iron-shod hooves striking back the foe. Still hanging on the back of the reared stallion, Krai signaled Rorshaf to twist around. The horse spun on its hind legs and crashed back down, jarring Krai forward across the pommel. The skal'tum now stood behind them, screaming. The mountain man kicked his horse forward, attempting to race for the tree line beyond the corner of the cottage. But after only a handful of paces, Rorshaf ground to a halt, his hooves digging grooves in the rocky dirt. The sudden stop caught Krai by surprise. He struggled to compensate but could not stop his body from tumbling over the head of his mount. He landed with a roll and avoided a snapped bone. Pulling to his knees, Krai looked ahead to what had spooked Rorshaf.

A second skal'tum stalked from the front of the cottage and blocked his escape to the trees. Krai heard the sibilant laugh of the first skal'tum behind him. "Come back, little one. We are not done playing."AS BOL STRUGGLED TO PRY A TORCH FROM THE CRUMBLING stone of the wall, Er'ril prepared to mount the stairs and investigate the crashing commotion echoing from the cottage above.

"Stay your feet, plainsman!"

Er'ril turned to face the speaker, the ghost in the mirror. The swirling bands of light swelled and ebbed over the stern figure of the old woman. He spoke to the mirror. "I have companions in danger up there."

"They are not your concern," she said coldly, her eyes narrowed. "You were guardian of the Book, and now must be guardian of the one for whom the Book was forged. You must get Elena to safety. Time has not dulled the Black Heart's l.u.s.t. Now go!" Her bright image in the mirror fluttered like a candle flame in a breeze, her final words stuttering. "The dark magick... snaking in the cottage... weakening my link.

Flee... while you still can! Do not fail me, Er'ril of Standi."

Then her ghost vanished and darkness reclaimed the chamber. Only the blue-flamed torches weakly beat back the blackness.

In the silence, the girl edged closer to Er'ril's side. An exceptionally loud crash boomed from above, startling her, and she clutched at his hand. He squeezed in rea.s.surance, her hand a hot ember in his palm.

How could this child be a wit'ch? Wit'ches were legends of evil: crook-backed crones buried deep in swampy lairs, or beautiful women with raven hair who lured men to their doom on midnight visits. Er'ril studied the woman-child. In the torchlight, her eyes were gla.s.sy with fear, her lips slightly parted as she held her breath. One hand twisted a curl of hair by her ear. He squeezed her hand again. Evil or not, this wit'ch was under his protection.

Bol had finally freed one of the torches from its bracket and pointed it to the only hall leaving the chamber.

"This way." He pa.s.sed the torch to Er'ril.

With only one arm, Er'ril was forced to pry his hand from Elena's tight fingers to accept the flaming brand. The girl's hand, free now, s.n.a.t.c.hed the edge of Er'ril's leather jerkin and clung there.

Bol raised his lantern. "Come. I have explored these ruins and know them well."

"Do you know a way out to the woods?" Er'ril asked.

The old man's words were whispered as he turned and began to lead the way toward the black hall. "I once did. But these ruins have a way of tricking an eye."

Er'ril, with Elena attached to his side, followed Bol into the dark pa.s.sageway leading from the chamber.

The pa.s.sage was revealed to be an ancient hall of the school. Hewn stone crumbled in dampness, and mold grew thick across the stone walls. An occasional alcove or niche they pa.s.sed contained statuary so worn by dripping water and age that the forms had melted into hunched ma.s.ses that seemed to menace the pa.s.ser.

Er'ril noted that Elena kept well clear of these dark s.p.a.ces, and every noise triggered a gasp from the girl. As she walked beside him, her feet stumbled in exhaustion. He heard her mumbling under her breath, words spoken to the floor in a disjointed fashion-something about snakes. Er'ril's lips tightened to a frown. It must be over a day since the child had slept. They needed to get her somewhere to sleep and recuperate. The dangers facing this youngster were more than just physical.

He wanted to put his arm around the girl, but he was fully occupied supporting the sputtering torch. Forthe first time in a long time, he regretted the loss of his other limb.

Ahead, Er'ril saw Bol hesitate at a junction of three crumbling halls. The subterranean ruins of the old school were a maze of crisscrossing stone halls and collapsed chambers. At first, Bol had been marching through this warren of tunnels with confidence, but as they proceeded he stopped more and more to scratch his head and squint his eyes.

Er'ril stepped beside him. "What's wrong?"

"I must have made a wrong turn. I don't remember this crossroad."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we're lost. There are many parts of these ruins I haven't explored. Some sections are unstable and apt to fall. Some parts are where beasts of the underground rule and guard against intruders."

"And where are we now?"

As if in answer, a sudden loud hissing bloomed from all around them. Elena whimpered beside Er'ril.

Bol lowered his lantern. "How fast can you run carrying Elena?" he whispered to Er'ril.

"Why?"

Bol peered into the darkness. "I didn't know they had stretched their territory so far. The winter cold must be driving them to these lower regions."

Er'ril listened to the growing hissing. "Serpents?"

Bol shook his head. "Worse. Much worse. Rock'goblins."

The two skal'tum beat their wings through the cold night air as Krai struggled to his feet. One of his knees protested the motion, and he grabbed for Rorshaf's withers to steady himself. The war charger sidled closer to him. Though the horse's eyes were wild with fear and its coat slick with sweat, Rorshaf stayed by the downed Krai, ready to protect.

The skal'tum behind him chuckled, the sound of its laughter like rocks rattling through a wash during a flash storm. "My little bird broke hisss wing. Come and I will fix it."

Krai heard the sc.r.a.pe of bony wing and claw approaching his back. He stared at his empty hands-weaponless. He had lost the ax when he was thrown from the horse. It now lay in the dirt near the feet of the second skal'tum. He needed another weapon but had none. Unless...

The second skal'tum crept closer toward him from the front. "We have had a long trip here. We could use a little meal before we tear apart the cottage and find our true prey."

Both of the skal'tum now hissed sibilantly. Green oil dripped from the claws of the skal'tum in front while it stared at him like a dog salivating for a bone.

Krai's hand settled on one of his packs. He picked the strap loose and flipped open the covering.

"Now what doess our little man think he ha.s.s?" the beast behind him asked. "Another shiny blade to prod at us? You cannot harm us, soft one, but only whet our appet.i.tes."Krai reached into his pack and grabbed his "weapon" by a long ear. He pulled free the decapitated head of the skal'tum he had slain in the town. He raised it high for both creatures to see. "Do not trust so fully your dark magick! I have learned how to thwart your foul protections."

The sight of the head, its long tongue hanging slack from its dead lips, had the desired effect on the beasts. Krai guessed the two skal'tum had seldom seen one of their kind slain in many centuries. The shocking revelation caused both of the beasts to flap back from him in trepidation. He hopped forward, his horse following at his whistled command. He swung the head toward the skal'tum in front. It backed far enough away from Krai that he could reach the ax.

He quickly wiped the ax's edge through the thick blood that dripped in globs from the severed neck in his hands. "Blood of your kind smeared on a blade will render your dark protections useless." He raised the blade, praying his ruse would hold. "I do not need the sun to kill you!"

His words shook the skal'tum. Both near exhaustion themselves, neither seemed willing to test his claim.

He mounted and, using his knees, guided his horse to the side. Now both skal'tum stood in front of him.

"We will kill you, little man. Mark our wordsss. When the tale of what you have done reachess our tribe, you and all your kind will be meat upon our fangss."

"We will be ready for you! Your blood will flow like rivers down our mountains," he a.s.sured the creatures as he swung his horse around and signaled Rorshaf to his fastest speed. Fear ignited his mount, and Rorshaf's iron-shod hooves thundered across the cold ground. Trees flew past to either side. With a net of limbs blocking the sky overhead from a winged a.s.sault, Krai allowed himself to breathe again.

As he and Rorshaf raced through the wintry night, thunder rumbled from overhead. The storm was about to break. Krai watched lightning arc across the black clouds as two emotions warred in his heart: relief at having survived, and shame for what he had done. He kicked Rorshaf to a faster speed, as if he could run from his ign.o.ble act. Froth foamed from Rorshaf's lips as he obeyed his master and sped through the woods.

It was not the abandonment of his companions in the cottage that caused his heart to weigh like a stone in his chest. Though he had left them to the beasts, his heart knew he had done all he could to buy them time to escape the cellar and reach safety. He had done his best, risking his own life.

No, what caused his heart to ache and his throat to choke was that he had lied, spoken an untruth! And for no other reason but to save his contemptible hide!

He yanked on Rorshaf's reins. His mount reared, wild-eyed, foam flying from the bit, and pulled to a short stop. Suddenly lightning and thunder crashed above Krai, as if the heavens above screamed for his lying heart. A freezing rain began pelting through the pines to strike his upturned face.

No man of his clan had ever allowed a lie to escape his teeth. With the spittle of his foul tongue, Krai had doused the fire of his family clan. For that blasphemy, he could never return to his mountain home.