The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 22

A man forever lost, Krai howled into the face of the rain.

Elena clung to the swordsman's jerkin as the hissing of the goblins crept around them. Now what? She had seen too many horrors this past day. She buried her face into Er'ril's leather jerkin. A rumble of di stant thunder echoed from above, silencing the hissing but not for long. As the crackling roar died away, the menacing noise resumed, itching at her ears. She peeked an eye open and stared down the hall behind them. Were there darker shadows sliding toward them?Uncle Bol spoke behind her. "I smell rain down this hall." She glanced back toward her uncle. He peered down the hall leading to the left. "And I think the hissing is less this way, too."

"Then let's go," Er'ril said.

With her ear pressed near his chest, Elena heard Er'ril's heart pound in its bony cage. She concentrated on the rush of blood through the warrior's heart, letting it drown out the hissing.

"Toss away the torch," Bol said. "You'll need that arm of yours to carry Elena. We must hurry. They may let us pa.s.s through their halls unmolested if we don't dally."

Elena allowed herself to be hefted into the air by Er'ril's iron-muscled arm. She held her arms around his neck to maintain her perch. "Swing to my back," he said.

She did as he asked and wrapped her legs around his waist. He kept his one arm hooked in her leg. "I don't need you to hold me," she said right into his ear. "If you lean over just a bit, I can hold on by myself."

Er'ril grunted acknowledgment and let go.

She tightened her knees and adjusted her weight. She held her place firm; it was not unlike riding a horse.

"I'm set," she said.

Placing a hand on the pommel of his sword, Er'ril nodded to Bol. "Lead the way." Elena's arm across his windpipe strained his voice.

Bol raised his lantern, slipped into the hall on the right, and led the way at a slight trot. Er'ril followed with a strangled "hang on" tossed back at the girl.

Elena pushed her cheek against his neck and held tight, careful not to choke her mount completely. Her nose filled with the scent of him: horse and a rich muskiness, like a hint of the loam of his home plains. A picture of him as a boy running in the fields of his Standi home pa.s.sed through her mind's eye, legs strong as they leaped irrigation ditches, chest wide as it drew the air yellowed by the dusty pollen of the spring fields. What if they had met as children? Would they have been friends?

Before she could ponder the strange effect his smell had on her heart, they entered the new hallway. The hissing grew louder as the walls around them echoed the threat. The noise seemed to creep into her skull and bounce around inside. She stared over Er'ril's shoulder as he trotted after Uncle Bol and the lantern.

Though they moved quickly, the pace was not so hurried as to trip a foot on a crumbling stone or b.u.mp a head on a fallen roof beam. It was this fast yet steady pace that kept Uncle Bol from death. From her perch, Elena could see the forward edge of the lantern's light as it raced ahead of them, illuminating obstacles. As she stared, the lantern light sliding along the stone floor suddenly vanished ahead as if swallowed by a hungry darkness. It took her a moment to realize what lay ahead. "Watch out!" she called to her uncle, who still hurried ahead of them.

Her words struck his ears at the same time the sight reached his eyes. He skidded to a halt, his arm swinging to keep him from falling. His toes teetered at the edge of a precipice. Er'ril came near to colliding into his back and sending him tumbling into the black pit ahead, but the swordsman was agile and instead pulled Uncle Bol from the edge.

Elena dropped from Er'ril's back. All three stared at the yawning precipice. The hall had been split by an old crack and a s.h.i.+fting in the rock of the foothills; the edge of the lantern light barely reached across the gap to where the hall continued on the far side-much too far to leap.Another crack of thunder echoed from the storm overhead. The thunder's bark rang clear from the distant hall. Uncle Bol was right. A way to the surface did lie at the end of that hall. But with the pit between them and the hall's continuation, it might as well have been a thousand leagues away.

The thunder seeped away, and the source of the hissing became clear. The noise rose like steam from the precipice, as from a furious teakettle ready to explode.

"Rock'goblins," Bol muttered.

Behind them now, a thick-tongued hissing answered its brethren from the pit.

Uncle Bol turned to face Elena. She had never seen such despair in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered to both her and Er'ril.

Elena barely heard his words. From the hall behind them, she saw inky shadows s.h.i.+ft and squirm toward their light.

"Kral!" Nee'lahn called through the storm-swept wood. Limbs lashed about her horse, and a hard rain beat down, stinging her face. She continued through the wood toward where she had heard the thunder of pa.s.sing hooves. She coaxed the stallion forward.

Behind her followed the mare and its rider, Rockingham. Though the steed was tethered to her stallion, the man made no effort to leap from his mount and flee. Apparently the prisoner had no desire to traverse these woods on foot with monsters loose this night.

"He's dead," Rockingham said sourly. "Let's find a thick-boughed tree and weather this storm out."

"No."

"He can't have survived the skal'tum."

"He did it once."

Rockingham pulled his shoulders up and hunched against a sudden wet gust. "Not this black night."

"I heard him."

"You heard thunder."

Nee'lahn nudged her stallion forward, leading the mare with her. Her senses were keen. It was not thunder she had heard. "Krai!" she called again, the wind ripping the name from her lips.

As if in answer, a light bloomed in the wood far ahead. Her first thought was that they had circled back around and that the misty light came from the old man's cottage. No, they were too deep in the wood, too far from the cottage. She sat straighter on the horse and peered forward, trying to pierce the veil of rain. The light, a soft azure glow, appeared to be bobbing up and down. Was someone hailing them?

Maybe Krai?

She reached a hand to the trunk of a tree and allowed her eyes to drift partially closed, searching through the rough bark and down to the heart of the tree, to its very roots that entwined with the other trees of the dark wood. She hummed a song of the nyphai low in her throat, a song of inquiry. Who lay ahead, friend or foe? But her only response was a rumble of irritation. How dull the roots of these trees, like men snoring in dream, compared to the symphony that once played in her own forest home. Only a single feathery answer returned- elv'in.Startled, she let her fingers drift from the woody bark. Just an old nightmare, she thought. These trees here were lost in the past. The elv'in had been gone from these sh.o.r.es for a thousand ages. They had disappeared long ago, sailing their wind s.h.i.+ps beyond the Great Western Ocean to a faraway land, from which they had never returned.

Still, even this mention of the ancient elv'in stirred a worry in her chest; it was such a cursed name to find among these storm-drenched limbs.

Her curiosity inched her stallion in the direction of the light. The trunks of trees, moving between her and the light, winked the glow into and out of existence like some cryptic signal. Finally, an especially fierce gale blew down from the peaks, and a wall of rain swept over them. The light blotted out. Nee'lahn stopped her horse and waited, unsure where exactly the light had last stood.

As she held her breath, her eyes searching, Rockingham slipped his gray mare beside her chestnut stallion. "I don't like this. We should go. No telling what manner of beast might be loose this night."

She raised a warning hand. "Hus.h.!.+" Her ears strained. She thought she had heard the snapping of a twig nearby.

"Wha-?" Rockingham's question was strangled to silence by a large hand clamped over his mouth.

Nee'lahn flinched in her saddle as she saw the huge shape swell up and pull Rockingham from his perch.

A knife flashed into her hand from a sheath on her wrist. Whoever had grabbed Rockingham was on the far side of the horse, hidden from view.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the glow reappear on her right, farther in the forest. She ignored it, her attention focused on the commotion behind the mare. A face suddenly appeared over the withers of the horse. The rocky planes and thick beard of the face were familiar. "Krai?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Down," he whispered at her, a hand motioning her to dismount.

Nee'lahn slipped from the horse's back. She darted to Krai and Rockingham. The garrison man was rubbing at his neck, his eyes narrowed with anger.

"Tether the horses," the large man whispered in her ear.

"Why?"

He pointed toward the light. "The horses draw attention. You two were making enough noise to attract a deaf cliff-cat. On foot, the storm should hide our scent and cover our footfalls."

"Who's over there?"

"I'm... not sure." Krai quickly swung his face away. "But on this foul night, we should heed caution."

Nee'lahn's brow crinkled. The mountain man was acting oddly, but his words were sound.

"I'm not going anywhere," Rockingham said, planting his feet.

"You're right," Krai said. He grabbed both the man's wrists in one hand and bound them with rope.

"You're staying here with the horses." Krai tossed an end of the rope over a high branch of a winter oak and caught it again. He pulled it taut, dragging Rockingham's arms so far up that he danced on the tips of his toes. Krai tied the rope around the bole of the tree.Rockingham began to protest, but a gag stuffed into his mouth silenced his words.

"Is that really necessary?" Nee'lahn asked, surprised at the savagery in Krai's behavior. "He hasn't caused us any trouble."

"What about the skal'tum?" Krai said. "How did they know where to find us?" She remained silent, unsure.

"Come, the sun's rising," he said. "I'm returning to the cottage and ridding the valley of those beasts, as I did with the other." He nodded toward the light. "But first I will know who else moves through these woods on a stormy night."

Nee'lahn thought of mentioning what she had heard from the tree voices, but Krai's actions made her uneasy, reluctant to open her worries to him. Besides, what was the need of speaking of the elv'in kind?

They were creatures of old stories.

"It would be best if you stayed with the horses, too," Krai said.

"No." The word escaped her mouth before she could stop it, but she didn't take it back. "I'm coming with you."

Krai hesitated as if to protest, then merely shrugged and turned away. Nee'lahn followed his wide back as he slipped away. For such a huge man, he seemed to float across the forest floor. Silent and sure, he sped toward the distant light, ax clenched in one fist. Nee'lahn, a creature of the forest herself, still had to press hard to keep pace with the man. The storm, with its sudden buffeting winds and wet embrace, hindered her, while the rain sluicing through the bower overhead ran off Krai's body as if off rock.

Not a word was uttered as they continued, but inside Nee'lahn a thousand concerns fought. Even after his battle with the skal'tum in the town, Krai had come away from the fight winded but unfazed, with his calm resilience intact. Now, though, his words had a bite to them, and his actions were as sharp as the edge of his ax. Even his shoulders seemed tight and bound in iron.

If Krai had not been so strange, she would have perhaps stayed with Rockingham and the horses and might have been able to keep Rockingham from being trussed up like a beast. But the way Krai's brows brooded over his sunken red eyes scared her-not for herself, but for others he might encounter. Not all things this night needed to be met with blade and muscle.

Nee'lahn came abreast of the mountain man and watched the light glowing past the last scattering of tree trunks. Whoever cast this light into the storm deserved to attract more than just blind fury. She edged ahead of Krai, determined to see first if Krai's ax might be needed. She sped ahead of the giant, her lithe feet dancing across the fallen leaves and twigs in silence. The ways of the forest paths were part of her nature. Behind her, she heard a whisper of ire from Krai.

The slightest smile edged her lips until she reached the last of the trees and saw who and what brought light into this dark wood. No! Instinct took hold of her heart as her dagger again appeared at her fingertips, s.n.a.t.c.hed from her wrist sheath. She flew into the circle of light.

The tall, slender man, twice Nee'lahn's height but half her weight and dressed in only a thin white s.h.i.+ft tucked into billowing green trousers, twisted a long thin neck to face her. He stood in a ring of mushrooms with one arm raised high, bearing aloft the source of the glow. A bird, perched on his raised wrist, glowed a bright azure from its feathers. Startled, it beat its wings twice, and the light waxed brighter with its motion. A moon'falcon!The falcon opened its beak and screeched.

"No, Nee'lahn!" Krai called behind her as she raced forward with her dagger held high.

She ignored him, a scream of rage escaping her lips.

The elv'in must die!

Er'ril pushed the child behind him and unsheathed his sword. He faced the dark hallway. Hissing black shapes slid toward them. Bol stood with the girl and held his lantern up. Its light cast the trio in an island of illumination. With the precipice at their heels, retreat meant only another form of death.

"I don't understand," Bol muttered behind him. "The few times I've encountered signs of the rock'goblins, I merely had to run away. They' ve never pursued me."

"Maybe they've grown bolder," Er'ril said. He saw a few of the shapes slip toward the edge of the light.

The lantern's glow seemed to hold them back, like some magickal s.h.i.+eld.

One of the shadowy figures broke away from the others and dragged forward. It stood just outside the light, clinging yet to the blackness. A glimpse of red eyes and a baring of needled fangs reflected the traces of the lantern's glow. Er'ril found the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck raising at the sight. The creature's shape echoed night terrors of his own childhood when blankets were pulled tight to chin as the house creaked at midnight.

"They won't hold much longer," Er'ril said. "Do you have any weapon, Bol?"

"No, only the light." The old man stepped forward, flas.h.i.+ng the lantern ahead.

The sudden movement of the light caught the bolder goblin by surprise. It stood exposed in the bright light, no taller than a goat. Its skin, which had appeared black in the shadows, was now revealed to be a scaly white, like the underbelly of a dead fish. A filthy oil sheened its surface. Huge red eyes stared, unblinking, at them. Then it hunched back from them with a sharp hiss, exposing the fangs of an asp. A tail, with a single black horn brandished on its tip, whipped from behind the goblin to coil and writhe in threat.

Er'ril grimaced, not at the sight of the single beast cringing in the lantern's glow, but at what else the spreading light revealed. The hall before them was crammed with hunching, squirming forms. Even the walls and roof were festooned with goblins hanging from claws dug into the crumbling blocks of stone.

The single goblin nearest them darted back into the shadows. The bulk of its fellow creatures also s.h.i.+ed from the encroaching light, but not in full retreat.

"What do you make of them?" Er'ril asked Bol. "My sword cannot singly force a pa.s.s through their ma.s.s. What of wit'ch magick?" Er'ril forced himself not to stare at the little girl cowering behind Bol.

"No, Elena is dry. And like her male counterparts, it takes sunlight to renew her power. She cannot help us."

"Then can these rock'goblins be reasoned with?"

"I know not. They are a skittish lot, having only rare contacts with others."

"And what happened to those others?"

"Their skulls and bones were found, well cleaned."Er'ril stared as the goblins began a slow creep back toward them. He motioned Elena toward one wall and had Bol stand guard before her. Er'ril needed room to maneuver. He raised the tip of his sword.

He watched for any sign that the beasts had gained enough confidence to attack. But they continued to hover at the edge of the lantern's light, as if waiting for a sign of their own. The goblins seemed determined to keep the intruders from leaving, but unsure what to do with them otherwise.

"What... are they doing?" Elena asked from behind her uncle. Her voice was surprisingly steady. Maybe she was too naive to properly appreciate their predicament.

"I'm not sure, honey," Bol said, "but we'd better be quiet."

With their words, a commotion seemed to be stirring among the ma.s.s of goblins. It started far down the hall and commenced toward them-a furious hissing and a squabbling of clicking tongues.

Er'ril tensed, his sword arm rock steady, his eyes narrowed with concentration.

Suddenly another goblin burst from among the ma.s.s to reveal itself in the lantern light. Like the goblin before, this one stared up at him with huge red eyes, its tail thrusting toward Er'ril cautiously. But in its tiny hands was clasped an object that flashed in the lantern light. The goblin slunk forward, its hands raised toward him as if offering a gift. Er'ril backed a pace and pointed the tip of his sword at the creature.

The other goblins filling the hallway had silenced their hissing and stood stone still. The goblin standing before Er'ril peeled its long fingers open to reveal a single sculpted lump of metal, so large it took both of its tiny white palms to support it.

Er'ril gasped. The metal glinted like gold in the lamplight. He knew this object and its shape and knew it was not gold that shone in the light, but iron forged from the blood of a thousand mages. He had hidden it among the ruins of the ancient school over a century ago for safekeeping against rogues and thieves during his traveling.

It was the ward of A'loa Glen.

Stunned by the unexpected revelation, Er'ril allowed his guard down and moved too slowly. The goblin with the prize darted forward, not at Er'ril, but past him. Before Er'ril could react, the goblin snaked behind him and flew to the lip of the yawning precipice. The creature paused a moment, peering over its shoulder at him.

"No!" Er'ril dropped his sword and lunged a hand at the beast. The ward must not be lost! Again he was too slow. The goblin leaped into the precipice and tumbled into the black maw, still clutching the key to the lost city.

Er'ril dashed to the edge, falling to his knees, and searched the chasm. Nothing but blackness stared back at him. "Bring the light!" Er'ril commanded.

"Look, they're leaving," Bol said.

Er'ril allowed himself a quick glance. The ma.s.s of rock'-goblins were slinking back from them, disappearing into the gloom of the dark halls: one less threat. Swinging his attention back to the precipice, Er'ril repeated, "Your lantern! s.h.i.+ne it here!"