The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 27

A strange odor suddenly hit Krai's nose like a blow. The odor of festering wounds enveloped him. Krai raised his ax. "What is it?"

"Not it, them!" The og're raised a claw and swept across the room.

From the pa.s.sages all around them, pairs of red eyes-like hundreds of angry red stars-reflected the light back toward them.

A hissing arose around them.

Krai backed a step, his boot's heel slipping over the lip of the cracked floor.

Suddenly the hissing blew toward them with a fury, and the pack of beasts raged from the tunnels.ROCKINGHAM RUBBED HIS SORE WRISTS AND CRACKED HIS neck to loosen his bones. A mixture of anger and relief fought in his breast. "I thought you had left me to the crows," he said sourly.

Nee'lahn kept in one hand the knife with which she had sliced his bonds, obviously still wary of him. "I would not have done that. Besides, we need the horses." She gathered the reins of Mist and of Er'ril's stallion. Krai's huge war horse glowered at her as she approached.

Rockingham took a moment, still ma.s.saging the muscles of one arm, to appraise Nee'lahn's companion.

The man stood as tall as Rockingham, and as thin. His lanky brown hair hung loose, not tied back in any typical fashion of this region. An outlander, Rockingham guessed. The angles of the stranger's face were sharp and his narrowed eyes even sharper. He wore a hunter's coat of sewn leather over gray leggings and jerkin. Strange fashion for these parts.

"Who is your friend?" Rockingham finally asked Nee'lahn.

Nee'lahn finished checking the security of the packs on the horses. She wiped a hand over her forehead, sweeping back stray hairs. "Krai is helping him find his lost companion."

The stranger stood silent, as if trying to fade into the wet wood around them. Rockingham faced him.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Mogweed." His voice was edgy, nervous.

"You're not from these parts, are you?"

He shook his head.

"Where do you hail from?"

He stayed silent.

Rockingham recognized when someone was trying to work up a fabricated story. This man had secrets.

He liked that. A person with something to hide could be coerced-if only Rockingham could discover his secret.

"I... I come from the southlands," Mogweed finally said.

Rockingham nodded but did not believe a word. Even Nee'lahn must have sensed the lie on the stranger's tongue, because she glanced up with a sour expression on her face.

What was this man doing here in these drenched woods? What did this stranger want? The desire in a man's heart was the price of his soul. If he could just discover that...

As Rockingham studied Mogweed, the stranger suddenly tensed and cringed down. A heartbeat later, the horses began to nicker in agitation. The war charger stamped an iron-shod hoof.

Then both he and Nee'lahn heard it at the same time. The beating of heavy wings approached from the deeper valley. It came from the direction of the cottage. Neither had to speak the name of what flew this way.

"They must not have found the girl," Rockingham said.

"Hurry!" Nee'lahn urged. "The cavern's not far from here. It's too small for the skal'tum. We'll be safe there. Krai is already inside."Mogweed must have known of the shelter she mentioned. He gripped at Nee'lahn's sleeve. "No, it's not safe. My brother-"

"Trust us," Rockingham said and caught the reins to the gray mare that Nee'lahn tossed to him. "Nothing in those caves can be as bad as what hunts us now."

Mogweed hesitated. His eyes searched the wood as if seeking a way to bolt. Like a frightened deer, Rockingham thought.

Nee'lahn spoke to the man, slipping her sleeve loose from his grip. "This is of no concern to you, Mogweed. They seek us. If you flee, I doubt they would follow."

As Nee'lahn swung atop the stallion, Mogweed's eyes continued to sweep the dark forest. Fear shone in those strange amber eyes.

Nee'lahn spoke again. "I know who you are, Mogweed. You're from the Western Reaches, like me.

But you're not a man. Your slitted eyes speak what your tongue does not. You are si'lura."

Rockingham choked on her words. "Shape-shifter!" He backed from the man. So this was the stranger's secret. He scurried atop his own mount, wishing to escape a creature of such foul legend.

Nee'lahn spoke again. "Si'lura, it is easy for you to hide here. Just shift into a woodland beast and disappear. This right is not yours."

"No," the man said, his eyes wild. "You do not know me. I cannot change! I am trapped in this form."

His words seemed to surprise Nee'lahn. She paused in her saddle, her eyebrows arched. The noise of the beating wings grew louder. She reached a hand toward the shape-shifter. "Then come with us or flee; we cannot wait."

Mogweed took a step away, then stopped. Just as Nee'lahn began to pull her arm back, he darted forward and gripped her hand. She yanked him up behind her seat.

Nee'lahn kicked her horse to a gallop and led the way. For a moment, Rockingham thought of fleeing in the opposite direction to gain his freedom. He listened to the beat of wings on cold air and shuddered.

He spurred his own horse to follow. To land in the hands of the Dark Lord's lieutenants after failing to retrieve the girl was pure folly.

He thundered after Nee'lahn. He needed the cursed child.

Rockingham stared at the back of the man seated behind Nee'lahn. His initial shock of the si'lura had waned. What was there to fear from a shape-shifter who couldn't shift? He was just a man then-a man with a secret and a need, a man who could be manipulated. Rockingham recognized a key when it landed in his lap. Perhaps with such an ally he might yet unlock his bonds and escape both his present captors andthe wrath of the Dark Lord.

He kicked his horse to narrow the distance between the racing mounts.

The clapping of wings echoed from the valley walls in pursuit.

If only he had enough time...

Tol'chuk knew these beasts. The og're tribes were often plagued by runs of rock'goblins through their lower caverns and tunnels. Rarely were they more than mere nuisances: stealing bright objects, breakingstoneware, fouling corridors with both their stench and spoor. Never had he heard of them brandishing weapons.

As these goblins swarmed up toward them, though, flowing from the surrounding tunnels like a flash flood down a dry gully, each of the small creatures bore a wicked blade that glinted green in the stone's light.

Each goblin alone posed no threat-not to an og're, or even to the large mountain man beside him. But these were not lone beasts.

Tol'chuk remembered a spreehawk he had seen as a child. It had made the mistake of chasing a gingermouse to its warren home. Alone in a field, the mouse would have made a nice meal; but when its brethren had boiled from the many neighboring burrows, the hawk had become the prey, set upon by the tiny teeth of hundreds of mice. All that was left of the mighty hawk were cleaned bones and a hooked beak; even the eyes had been plucked empty. This memory flashed across his mind's eye as the swarm burst from the tunnels.

Now he was that hawk.

Krai growled something low in his throat, unintelligible. He had his ax hefted for battle.

Useless, Tol'chuk reasoned. The og're did the only thing he could. He scooped the large man beside him in one of his ma.s.sive arms and hauled him up in a firm embrace. Shock at his action stunned the mountain man for a blink, then the man began to thrash, believing himself attacked. With Krai in his arms, Tol'chuk leaped into the black gorge.

To the mountain man's credit, Krai did not scream, only froze in the og're's embrace as they plummeted.

A jutting rock crashed into Tol'chuk's shoulder, tumbling him to the side. Tol'chuk fought for balance and barely kept his feet under him as he smashed onto a ledge of stone. The force of their combined weight crushed the og're to the rock. Air exploded from his chest as he struck the floor, though he was careful to protect the human man, cushioning Krai from the impact with his own body.

Krai rolled off him-to the great relief of Tol'chuk's bruised lungs. The mountain man pushed to his knees and glowered at the og're, his eyes red with rage. "What do you think you do, og're?"

"There be no hope above. There lay only death."

For a moment, a flash of regret crossed Krai's features, as if he had welcomed the fight-or maybe just the outcome. "I make my own decisions," he finally said, his voice straining high. "Don't do something like that again."

"I be... sorry." Tol'chuk struggled to sit up. The effort must have shown on his face.

"You're injured."

"Not bad. Og'res be thick boned."

Krai's voice now had a trace of concern. "It was a foolish act, leaping blindly."

"I saw..." His mouth struggled with the common tongue. "I spotted this ledge from above, man of the mountains."

Krai looked doubtfully at him.

"Og're eyes pierce the dark better than humans'." By now, Tol'chuk had managed to get his feet under him. He pushed upright but swayed.Krai placed a hand on the og're's shoulder to steady him. His other hand still clutched his ax. He had not dropped it, and Tol'chuk doubted even death would ever pry the weapon from his fingers. Ax and man seemed one.

The mountain man stayed quiet until Tol'chuk took a few deep breaths and his feet steadied. "I owe you an apology," Krai finally said in a calmer tone. "And I owe you my life. I misjudged you sorely."

Tol'chuk fingered a bruised rib. "Your people always have."

"I won't repeat that mistake."

Tol'chuk clapped him on the shoulder. "Then I will try to... try to warn you before I push you off a cliff again."

A crack of a smile broke across Krai's features. "You are a strange og're."

"More than you know." He released the man's shoulder. "But where now? I jumped... but did not think where to jump next."

Krai retrieved the glowing stone that had slipped from the og're's fingers on impact. Luckily, Tol'chuk thought, it had not rolled from the ledge. The mountain man held up the stone. "Whatever we decide, we had better hurry. The elv'in's light fades."

Tol'chuk noted that the stone, which before had stung his og're eyes to look at directly, now caused no discomfort. "The goblins will not let us rest, either," he added. Stepping to the edge, Tol'chuk searched the terrain below.

"Do you see a way down?" Krai asked at his shoulder.

"I see the chasm's floor. It be too far to jump."

Krai had backed to the wall and ran a hand along the stone. "The cliff is rough. There are many handholds and protruding rock. We could try climbing down."

Tol'chuk turned to Krai. "I see a fall of boulders below us. If we could scale to there, we could climb to the chasm's floor."

Krai nodded and seemed to be weighing the various risks, his eyes far away. Suddenly he pointed his ax to the far end of the chasm. "Are my eyes casting phantoms in this gloom, or is that a light yonder?"

Tol'chuk swung around and stared where the mountain man pointed. Yes, a glow-two lights!-bloomed in the distance. He watched, the lights bob. The twin flames approached the same wall upon which their ledge rested, but much farther down the chasm floor.

"Goblins?" Krai asked.

"No, goblins do not like light. It weakens their blood." Tol'chuk remembered how the og're tribe kept powder pots burning to keep the rock'goblins from sacred areas of their caves.

"Then who?"

"I know not."

"You said your og're eyes were keen in dark places. Can you make out any details?""The distance be great," he said and strained his eyes toward the light. He caught occasional glimpses of shadows moving in the glow but failed to make out any details. "No, nothing. It be too-" The og're tensed.

"What?" Krai's voice rose with concern.

The og're raised a claw. Odd images formed in his head, yet the touch was familiar: Fardale. The wolf-brother was below, attempting to tell him something: A wounded cub finds protection. A strange scent sparks a trail. A few other images half formed in his head but were too fleeting to register fully.

Only one other image coalesced: Blood flows with sparks of lightning.

Tol'chuk did not understand the meaning of this last image, but the wiry hairs of his back ridge bristled.

"What do you see?" Krai asked impatiently.

"Not see, feel. Something strange be happening down there."

"How do you know this?"

"A friend... a brother... be down there. Not alone."

"What does he tell you?"

Tol'chuk shook his head. "He be too far away to be clear."

As they watched, the twin lights vanished into a distant tunnel below.

"We must follow," Tol'chuk said, his voice suddenly strained.

"Why?"

"I... I do not know," Tol'chuk lied.

Krai's brows lowered suspiciously.

A twinge of guilt stabbed Tol'chuk, but he did not offer further words. How could he describe the sudden pull on his heart? Tol' chuk knew that if he uncovered the heartstone hidden in his pouch it would be shining bright enough to eclipse the feeble glow of the elv'in stone.

The Heart of his people was calling him forward.