Doom Of The Darksword Part 34

But the rus.h.i.+ng water was tearing the ice floe out from under him. He tried to grab the tree with both hands, but the current was too strong. His tenuous hold on the tree was slipping.

Marit flung herself bodily on Hugh just as he lost his grasp. Her numb fingers clutching at the back of his leather vest, she fought to pull him from the river. She was on her knees; the water was rising. If she failed, they would both go under. Desperately she held onto his vest, pulled it up nearly over his head. Digging her knees into the mud, she dragged the man's heavy body backward. Hugh was strong; he gave her what help he could. He kicked with his feet, sought purchase with his flailing legs, and, finally, managed to squirm his way onto the bank.

He lay still, gasping and s.h.i.+vering with cold and terror. Marit, hearing a rumbling sound, looked upriver. A wall of black water tinged with red foam, pus.h.i.+ng huge chunks of ice in its path, thundered downstream.

"Hugh!" she cried.

He raised his head, saw the rus.h.i.+ng floodwaters. He staggered to his feet, began scrambling up the bank. Marit was past helping him; she could barely make it herself. She collapsed onto firm, level ground; was dimly aware of Hugh the Hand falling somewhere near her.

The river roared in rage at losing its prey; or perhaps that was only her imagination. She stilled her rapid breathing, calmed the wild beating of her heart. Letting the rune-magic warm her, she started to banish the terrible cold.

But she couldn't lie here long. The enemy-chaodyn, wolfen, tiger-men-must be hiding in the woods, perhaps watching them even now. She glanced at the sigla tattooed on her skin; the glow of the runes would warn her of approaching danger. Her skin was slightly blue, but that was with cold. The sigla were dark.

This should have been rea.s.suring, but it wasn't. It was illogical. Certainly some of those who had attacked the city with such fury yesterday must still be lurking outside the city walls, waiting for a chance to pick off a scouting party.

But the runes did not glimmer, except perhaps very, very faintly. If any of the enemy were about, they were far away and not interested. Marit couldn't understand it and she didn't like it. This uncanny absence of the foe frightened her more than the sight of a pack of wolfen.

Hope. When the Labyrinth offers you hope, it means that it is just about to s.n.a.t.c.h that hope away.

She pushed herself up to a crouching position, alert and wary. Hugh the Hand lay huddled on the ground. He was s.h.i.+vering uncontrollably, his body racked by chills. His lips were blue, his teeth chattering so violently he'd bitten his tongue. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

Marit didn't know much about mensch. Could he die of the cold? Perhaps not, but he might fall sick, slow her up. Moving about, walking, would warm his blood, but she had to get him on his feet first.

Marit recalled hearing from Haplo that rune-magic would work to heal mensch. Crawling over to Hugh, she clasped her hands over his wrists, let the magic flow from her body to his.

His shaking ceased. Slowly, a tinge of color returned to his pallid face. At length, he sighed, fell back on the ground, closed his eyes, letting the blissful warmth spread through his body.

"Don't fall asleep!" Marit warned.

Touching his tender tongue to his teeth, he groaned, grunted. "Back on Aria.n.u.s, I used to dream that when I was a wealthy man, I'd wallow in water. Have a big barrel of it outside my house and I'd jump in it, splash it over my head. Now"-he grimaced-"may the ancestors take me if I so much as drink a sip of the cursed stuff!"

Marit stood up. "We can't stay here, out in the open like this. If you're feeling up to it, we have to move."

Hugh was on his feet immediately. "Why? What is it?"

He looked at the runes on her hands and arms; he'd been around Haplo long enough to know the sings. Seeing the sigla dark, he glanced up at her questioningly.

"I don't know," she answered, staring hard into the forest. "There's nothing close, seemingly. But ..." Unable to explain her uneasiness, she shook her head.

"Which way?" Hugh asked.

Marit considered. Vasu had pointed out the site where the green and golden dragon-Alfred-had last been seen. That was to the gateward side of the city, the side facing the next gate.1 She and Vasu had judged the distance to be within half a day's walk.

Marit gnawed her lip. She could enter the woods, which would give them shelter but would also make them more vulnerable to their enemies, who-if they were out there-were undoubtedly using the woods to conceal their own movements. Or she could keep to the riverbank, keep in view of the city. For a short distance, any foe who attacked her would be in range of the magical weapons held by the guards on the city walls.

Marit decided to stay near the river, at least until the city could offer no more protection. Perhaps by then she would have picked up a trail that would lead her to Alfred.

What that trail might be, she didn't like to think.

She and Hugh moved cautiously along the river's sh.o.r.eline. The black water churned and fumed in its banks, brooding over the indignities it had suffered. The two took care to keep clear of the slippery bank on one side and avoid the forest shadows on the other.

The woods were silent, strangely silent. It was as if every living being had gone away ...

Marit halted, sick with realization, understanding.

"That's why no one's around," she said aloud.

"What? Why? What are you talking about?" Hugh the Hand demanded, alarmed by her sudden stop.

Marit pointed to the ominous red glow in the sky. "They've all gone to the Final Gate. To join the fight against my people."

"Good riddance, then," said Hugh the Hand.

Marit shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Hugh continued. "So they've left. Vasu said the Final Gate was a long way from here. Not even those tiger-men could reach it anytime soon."

"You don't understand," Marit replied, overwhelmed by despair. "The Labyrinth could transport them there. It could move them in the blink of an eye, if it wanted. All our enemies, all the evil creatures of the Labyrinth ... joined together, fighting against my people. How can we survive?"

She was ready to give up. Her task seemed futile. Even if she found Alfred alive, what good could he do? He was only one man, after all. A powerful mage, but only one.

Find Alfred! Haplo had told her. But he couldn't know how great the odds were against them. And now Haplo was gone, perhaps dead. And Lord Xar was gone, too.

Her lord, her liege lord. Marit put her hand to her forehead. The sigil he had tattooed on her skin, the sigil that had been a sign of her love and trust, burned with a dull and aching pain. Xar had betrayed her. Worse, it seemed he had betrayed his people.

He was powerful enough to withstand the onslaught of evil beings. His presence would inspire his people, his magic and his cunning give them a chance for victory.

But Xar had turned his back on them ...

"He left us to fend for themselves. He ... would not do such a thing! No, I can't believe it," Marit said to herself. "He left ... took Haplo with him ... to heal him! Yes, that is it. My lord will heal Haplo and then they will both come back to fight with us!"

It was logical, now that she considered it. Xar had removed Haplo to a place of safety. Meanwhile, her task was to find Alfred. With all of them there, at the Final Gate, nothing could withstand them!

Shaking back the wet hair out of her eyes, Marit resolutely put everything out of her mind except the immediate problem. She'd forgotten an important lesson. Never look too far ahead. What you see could be a mirage. Keep your eyes on the trail on the ground.

And there it was. The sign.

Marit cursed herself. She'd been so preoccupied, she had almost missed what she'd been searching for. Kneeling down, she carefully picked up an object, held it out for Hugh the Hand to see.

It was a green, glittering scale. One of several scales-green and gold-lying on the ground.

Surrounding it were large dollops of fresh blood.

This concludes our special preview of The Seventh Gate, available now wherever Bantam Books are sold.

1 Directions in the Labyrinth are based on the "gates," those markers which indicate how far one has progressed through the Labyrinth. The first gate is the Vortex. The city of Abri is between the first and second gates. Since the Labyrinth's innumerable gates are scattered around randomly, directions are based on where one is at the time in relation to the next gate. Directions in the Labyrinth are based on the "gates," those markers which indicate how far one has progressed through the Labyrinth. The first gate is the Vortex. The city of Abri is between the first and second gates. Since the Labyrinth's innumerable gates are scattered around randomly, directions are based on where one is at the time in relation to the next gate.

by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

THE DARKSWORD SERIES

Forging the Darksword

Doom of the Darksword

Triumph of the Darksword

Legacy of the Darksword

THE DEATH GATE CYCLE

Dragon Wing

Elven Star

Fire Sea

Serpent Mage

The Hand of Chaos

Into the Labyrinth

The Seventh Gate