The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 25

Satisfied, it suddenly perched straighter on her hand, spread its wings wide, and screeched a cry oftriumph across the cavern, light bursting brighter from its flared plumage.

"SO WHAT DO YOUR ANCIENT TEXTS SAY OF THAT?" Er'RIL asked Bol. He nodded to the falcon perched on the child's wrist. After its raucous outburst, it had quieted down and begun simply to preen its feathers with a hooked beak. Er'ril was unsure what bothered him more, the bird's behavior or actually witnessing a wit'ch ripening to power. His eyes kept drifting to the girl's red hand. He had accepted the old man's claim of Elena's heritage, but to see it proven still startled.

"As I said," Bol scolded, drawing Er'ril's eyes from the child's hand, "concerning the moon'falcons, the scrolls speak different tongues-some bright, some dark."

"And what about her hand? I thought mages required sunlight to initiate a quickening. How did she manage to renew her Rose in this pit?"

Bol scratched behind an ear with a finger. "Perhaps the bird's light."

"Moonlight?"

"I remember reading a text of a long dead alchemist which supposed that moonlight was merely reflected sunlight." Bol waved the fingers of one hand dismissively. "Of course, the alchemist was burned for such blasphemy. Still, one wonders."

Both men's eyes settled on the bird. Elena caught the direction of their attention. "Can I... may I keep him?" she asked, her eyes aglow with reflected moonlight from the bird's feathers.

"It's a wild creature," Bol answered. "I don't think I, or anyone else, can control its heart. It makes its own choices, and for some reason, it has chosen you."

"Do you think he'll stay with me?"

Bol shrugged. "Who can say? But I'm afraid, honey, that the bird may just be spooked by the dark halls.

It probably wandered into these tunnels to escape the storm outside and became lost. Once out in the forest, I expect it will take to wing again."

Er'ril turned his back on the two, his eyes again studying the dark stair. Enough about some stray bird.

Rare or not, it did not bear on his pursuit of the iron ward. The thieving goblin was by now far down these stairs and likely impossible to find among the warren of halls and pa.s.sages. Further pursuit was probably futile, but Er'ril could not forsake his trust. The ward, one of only two, had been bestowed on him by the Brotherhood as an honor to his family... and for his sacrifice. He felt an itch at the stump where his right arm once sprouted. His eyes closed with the memory. The price of the ward had been a costly one.

He shuddered, opened his eyes, and raised his sword. No, he would not leave the ward to these slinking, hissing creatures. "We should continue. The trail grows cold."

Bol nodded and picked up his lantern, which he had set down on the stair. "Well, at least we now have two sources of illumination," he said, raising his lamp and nodding to the moon'falcon. "Perhaps we can better light this cold trail."

"If we wait much longer, even the midday sun won't help us." Er'ril swung forward and led the way down the stair. His boots stomped on the rock, followed by the lighter tread of the others. As much as he regretted the delay due to the bird, Er'ril found Bol's words proved true. With the increased light, the mud and grime now glistened with the growing dampness, warning of treacherous footing. The light alsorevealed small prints with wide-splayed toes patted into the thin layer of silt.

Er'ril pointed to the prints with the tip of his sword but kept silent. Bol nodded. To see evidence of the creature they pursued hushed the party. Here was proof that what they chased was not an illusory phantom, but a creature of bone and blood. As they continued in silence, the air itself dampened with a thickening mist. Soon Er'ril found the dense air difficult to breathe; each lungful had to be bit and swallowed.

Bol whispered behind him, his breath wheezing between his words. "Are you... sure... there's not another way to... unlock A'loa Glen's magickal walls? Do we really... need this ward? Perhaps Elena's magick-"

"No!" Er'ril cracked at him. "I must... we need the ward."

"I don't want to do any magick," Elena said, bolstering Er'ril's words, her voice sour with dread.

Her uncle patted her on the head, trying to rea.s.sure the child, but instead raising a sharp chirp of warning from the falcon. The bird's chest puffed out, and its black eyes needled toward the old man's fingers.

Clenching his knuckles, Bol pulled his hand back. "I guess I'm outnumbered."

Er'ril increased the pace down the stairs, worried that further delay might fade the feeble track they followed. But another concern sped his pace. With enough time, the old man might eventually convince him to abandon his pursuit. His mind already dwelled on Bol's words. Perhaps there wereother ways into the lost city. Perhaps Elena's wit'chings couldpierce the magickal veil around A'loa Glen. Maybe they didnr really need the ward.

Gripping the hilt of his sword until his wrist ached, Er'ril marched down the steps. The ward was his!

"Slow your pace, Er'ril. My bones are not as agile as yours." Bol's words had a strained edge, and the old man's breath rasped in the thickened, damp air. "This rock is as slick as a salamander's back."

Er'ril slowed his pace. Not so much at the old man's request, but because the last of the stairs had appeared out of the gloom ahead, lit by the twin fires of bird and lamp.

They had reached the bottom of the chasm.

He raised a warning hand to keep Bol and Elena from following until he checked what lay ahead. With his back gliding along the wall, he slid down the last of the steps and crept to the limit of the lamplight with his sword slicing the way forward. Gloom forced his eyes wide.

At the bottom of the stairs, a wide floor of tumbled rock and littered rubble spread ahead. A thin path wound through the debris. Barely discernible on the far wall of the chasm was a rip of blackness far blacker than the dark rock. Was it the entrance to another tunnel? Er'ril guessed the narrow path led to that spot.

As he studied the way ahead for hidden attackers among the scattered boulders, he heard the scuff of boot on rock behind him. The light brightened as his two companions disobeyed his command and crept closer.

Bol stepped to his shoulder. "Well, what do you think?" he whispered.

Er'ril restrained the sharp retort on his tongue. Why couldn't they simply mind his directions and stay on the stairs? He kept his eyes focused forward. His gaze settled on the distant tunnel. With Bol's lantern now closer, the improved light illuminated the opening in the far cliff wall.It was a tunnel opening, not like the man-made halls of the old school, but a natural fissure in the rock. A crack in the rock face started at twice the height of a man and split wider as it reached for the floor.

Sudden motion near the wide entrance to the tunnel caught his eye.

Er'ril tensed.

He saw a small, dark shape dart down the last of the path. It paused at the entrance of the tunnel.

Somehow Er'ril sensed that it stared right back at his own face, laughing at him. Then the diminutive figure bounced into the fissure and was swallowed away.

"Hurry!" Er'ril said, his voice thick with threat. "We're close! But watch the shadows. I don't trust these goblins."

Elena allowed the falcon to climb up to her shoulder. Its claws dug through the thin fabric of her s.h.i.+rt and pinched her skin as if refusing to let even the wisp of the woolen cloth stand between it and Elena's flesh.

It nestled close to her neck, but as if obeying the swordsman's warning, its head kept swiveling back and forth, studying the chasm floor ahead.

Without further instruction, Er'ril led the way into the tumble of rocks and boulders. His heavy boots thudded forward down the path. Bol gently nudged her to follow, though she noted his hands kept well away from the bird's beak. She also noted that her uncle's breathing had become alarmingly raspy in the damp, heavy air. Even she found herself having to suck air through her mouth to keep from feeling suffocated. She glanced up to her uncle, who offered a weak smile. His color seemed more ashen, but maybe it was just the lantern's light making his face appear so pale.

"We'd better not let Er'ril get too far ahead of us." He nodded for her to proceed ahead while he kept watch on their back.

Elena marched after the retreating swordsman, who set a furious pace across the flat ground. Without the fear of breaking a neck on slippery stairs, the need for a cautious gait had vanished. Elena almost had to run to keep up with Er'ril.

Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed her uncle lagging farther and farther behind. He walked hunched over, wiping at his brow with the back of a hand. Was his hand trembling? Maybe she should call for the swordsman to slow down. Just as she was working up the courage to speak, Er'ril raised his hand in warning.

She was relieved he was calling a break in their hurried march. She closed the distance to Er'ril. "My uncle-" she said, pointing behind her. She swallowed another mouthful of air, surprised how short of breath she was herself, and continued. "-he needs to rest."

The swordsman made a noncommittal grunt, his eyes studying a group of large boulders cl.u.s.tered like dragon's eggs to the right of their path. "Stay here," he said and started toward the boulders.

She stood, s.h.i.+fting from one foot to the other. She twisted her neck. Uncle Bol was still several spans away, and he walked with one hand clutching his left side. He slowed even further once he realized they had stopped. Grimacing, Elena crept after the swordsman.

He must have heard her footsteps or maybe noticed a s.h.i.+ft in the light. He swung to her. "Listen, la.s.s.

You need to stay put. I must check the boulders ahead for any ambush, and I don't need you to slow me down if there's trouble."

"But it's dark over there. My light will let you see better." Tears threatened at the thought ofabandonment. She glanced far back to where her uncle had stopped and was leaning on a large rock.

"No, if there are any of those goblins out there, your light will signal my approach like a hundred flaming brands. I go alone. Return to your uncle."

She nodded acquiescence and pushed back her shoulders to show she wasn't scared of anything. Her lower lip trembled slightly and ruined her effort at bravery.

He gave her a tiny smile. His usually stark features cracked in lines of sympathetic amus.e.m.e.nt, lines well worn into his face. She realized his face must once have smiled easily, though that had clearly been a long time ago. "We all fear, Elena," he said. "Sometimes we have to put it aside and go on. Don't let it control you."

"Are youever frightened?"

He stared at her wordlessly for the longest time, then merely shrugged. His eyes seemed to look far away, and his voice was small. "Since I lost my brother, I don't think I've ever felt completely safe."

She touched him on the elbow. "Me, too," she said meekly.

Her words seemed to puzzle him, then realization dawned behind his eyes. "We'll find your brother."

"I miss Joach so much."

"Well, we're not going to find him down here. We need to forge ahead. Now go help your uncle-it looks like he could use a shoulder to lean on-while I check the boulders ahead."

She nodded, her trembling calmed. He studied her for a moment, then swung on a heel and continued toward the maze of boulders, his sword raised. She watched him duck and disappear behind a rock the shape of a small cottage. Waiting for several heartbeats, she searched for any sign of the swordsman.

Nothing moved, but the shadows clung everywhere among the boulders. Anything could be lurking there, hidden from sight. Standing with the moonlit bird, she realized how she must blaze like a star to any eyes watching from the cl.u.s.ter of rock.

A s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed down the back of her neck, as if someone lightly waved a finger over the tiny hairs of her nape. She suddenly felt hidden eyes staring at her. She backed from the line of boulders, toward where her uncle was waiting.

Was that something moving in the shadows below the rock shaped like a broken barn? As she moved, all the shadows s.h.i.+fted with the movement of her light. The shadows themselves seemed alive, wriggling with foul intent. Maybe they had swallowed the swordsman and now wanted more.

Her feet began retreating faster. Her heel struck a loose stone, and a yelp escaped her throat as it skittered away. It wasn't a stone! She watched it scuttle from her, its claws ticking open and closed. The creature-some sort of cave crab- vanished into the shadows.

Her flesh crawled now with imaginary cave creatures. She sped away toward where her uncle had last stood. A medium-sized boulder blocked her view of Uncle Bol, but his light shone like a beacon just beyond.

"Uncle Bol," she called as she rounded the edge of the boulder. She spotted her uncle just a few steps away and skidded to a stop. His lantern lay on its side, and her uncle sprawled beside it. He lay limp on the cold stone.Shock froze her feet for several heartbeats, her breath trapped in her throat. Uncle Bol! She could not face the thought of losing another of her family. She even took a step away, as if fleeing from the sight would undo it. Then she saw his chest move up and down. He wasn't dead! He still breathed, but consciousness had fled him. Relief almost cut the cords holding her upright. Her knees buckled slightly, but she fought to keep her feet. She half stumbled, half fell down beside her uncle. The falcon squawked a warning at the sudden motion, flapping its wings in agitation. Moonlight bloomed brighter on her uncle.

She reached for his hand. His skin felt cold and oddly moist. His cheeks were pale, like those of a corpse laid out for viewing. She found herself patting his hand and mumbling, "Uncle Bol, wake up. Don't leave me here. Please, wake up." She reached to his face next and laid a hand on his brow. He was hot. The touch of her hand on his feverish forehead stirred him. A low moan escaped his throat, rising like steam from a boiling pot. Even this soft noise sounded loud in the quiet cavern.

Uncle Bol rolled his head from side to side as if suffering a nightmare. But her touch did not awaken him further. She rubbed his cheeks and ma.s.saged his wrists, but nothing drew him to consciousness. She glanced around her as a sob escaped her lips. She needed help. Where was Er'ril? She feared calling to him, afraid of what else might answer her summons from these shadowed rocks.

As she listened for any sign of the returning swordsman, she heard the soft tinkle of flowing water. Hadn't there been a spring-fed stream near here? She studied the surroundings. It should be just past that pillar of rock!

She returned her attention to Uncle Bol. Maybe a bit of water on his lips might help. But did she dare leave him?

Her uncle settled back down as if his foul dreams had slipped away, but his breathing had a more ragged edge to it now, a throaty gurgle that caused her to clutch at her own neck. She could not just stand and watch him die. She found her eyes drifting toward her right hand, where whorls of red hues seemed to be swirling faster with her agitation.

Could her magick aid her uncle? Her mind's eye drew up the picture of her parents buried in flames. No, she dared not risk it. She lowered her hand. She needed to go for water. If she ran, it would only take a moment to reach the small stream.

Before fear could keep her frozen forever, she darted away. Again the falcon spat a squawk of protest and dug his claws deep into her shoulder to keep its perch. Elena ignored the pain and ran.

Her feet flew with the knowledge that her goal was so close. It was for that reason that when she saw what stood by the stream, she could not stop in time and fell to her knees, sc.r.a.ping them savagely on the coa.r.s.e rock. A scream locked in her chest at the sight. Her falcon, jarred from her shoulder by the sudden stop, flapped up and circled above.

The stream lay an arm's length away, but something else had reached it first.

She watched the s.h.a.ggy beast raise its head from where it had been lapping water. Huge yellow eyes reflected back her falcon's light. She knew this type of beast. She had seen hunters from the highlands carrying their pelts to town. It was a wolf.

It growled at her in warning but did not approach any closer, apparently as cautious about her as she was of him. It took a few steps back, limping on its right front leg. The remains of some sort of bandage hung from the injured limb. It was hurt. She saw that one of its ears was torn, shredded and matted with blood.She remembered the howl they had all heard earlier. She guessed this was the creature that had voiced that pain.

Both stared at each other warily. The wolf had stopped growling and now just stood, slightly wobbly, on three legs. She studied the traces of the old bandage. The wolf could not have done that itself; it must have been cared for by someone. She knew some woodsmen used wolves to aid their hunting. Was this someone's lost pet?

As she realized the wolf was not going to leap at her throat, she allowed herself to breathe again. She leaned away, meaning to retreat, then paused. Fear kept her ready to bolt, but the swordsman's words about not letting fear control one's actions kept her crouching in place. Maybe the wolf needed help, like her uncle.

And another thought occurred to her. Maybe its keen nose could even lead them all out of here! Elena pictured her sick uncle. They needed a way out quickly. If she could coax the wolf...

Taking a chance, she bit her lower Up and crawled a step forward to the stream. Using both hands, she cupped a scoop-ful of cold water and held it out to the wolf. Surely it would take this gesture as a friendly one. The wolf's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion.

She forced her arms not to tremble as she held her position firm. At that moment, the falcon flapped down and gently landed on her shoulder.

The wolf eyed the bird, then looked again at the offered water.

It took a step forward.

"Come on," she whispered. "Don't be afraid."

The wolf padded another step toward her, its nose now so close she felt its hot breath on her ringers. It craned its neck forward. A tentative tongue supped from between exceptionally long fangs to touch the water. Though wanting the water, its eyes never left hers. The yellow eyes, she now noted, were odd.

The irises were slitted up and down, not round, more like a cat's eyes than a dog's.

As she stared in fascination and awe, its eyes suddenly dilated black and darted to her right. It pulled its neck back with a growl.

"Get back, Elena! Now!" She glanced over her shoulder to see Er'ril stepping from around a boulder behind her, his sword raised in menace toward the s.h.a.ggy wolf. "Run behind me." Er'ril lunged at the wolf with the sword.

Without thinking, Elena threw herself in front of the swordsman's weapon. She knocked his blade aside with the flat of her hand. "No!" As her right hand made contact with his sword, a flash of ice blew out from her palm to swallow Er'ril's sword.

Er'ril gasped and shook the frigid weapon from his hand. The iron sword crashed with a clang to the stone, and like a gla.s.s vase, it shattered into a thousand frozen pieces.

Elena watched the swordsman's eyes settle on her face. He wore an expression of red-cheeked anger mixed with shock. "My sword!"

"I didn't mean to do it," Elena said in a small voice, hiding her right hand behind her back. The realization that she had just destroyed their party's only weapon dawned on her. Tears rose to her eyes. "I'm sorry."Behind her, she heard the wolf growl.

Er'ril grabbed the stunned girl and swept her to the side, prepared to do battle with the huge wolf. The beast was injured, so perhaps he still had a chance of driving it away with a swift kick or the strike of a fist.

The wolf, though, was not growling at them, but had his back turned and faced toward the dark trail they had traversed earlier. The wolf's hackles were raised, and a long, steady rumble flowed out to the darkness.

"Something's coming," Elena said.

Now Er'ril could hear the scuffle of disturbed shale and a more familiar noise-hissing. "Goblins." He pulled Elena away.

The wolf backed toward them, slos.h.i.+ng through the small stream.

Elena pointed to the beast. "He knows, too. They're probably the ones who injured him."

Er'ril ignored her words and pushed Elena ahead of him as he retraced the route back toward the fissure.