Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3)

by D J Salisbury

  Lorel pounded her fists on the ground and howled with mirth.

  Several voices howled in answer.

  Lorel flowed to her feet and dashed toward the mouth of the canyon.

  Tsai’dona drew her sword and stalked after her.

  The horses screamed in terror. How could he have forgotten them?

  Viper dropped his bowl and limped after Tsai’dona. Would the silly horses run to him, or from him? He tried to will a note of command into his voice. “Poppy! Periwinkle! Come!”

  It seemed to work. Hooves pounded toward him. All four horses appeared out of the darkness.

  Lorel stepped aside. Tsai’dona jumped out of their way.

  Viper reached high and grabbed the roans’ halters when their heads bobbed down. Limping as fast as he could on his sore stump, he led them back to camp. The riding horses danced close behind them.

  Lorel called back to him, “Get them back behind the wagon and bring out some torches.”

  Periwinkle snorted at her.

  A single creature howled, far too close to their camp.

  The team pranced sideways. Viper tugged on their halters and cussed when they yanked him off his feet. “Stop that, bahtdor bait.”

  He led them behind the wagon and turned them loose in the box canyon. Should he tie Nightshade to the wagon? No, the stallion might damage himself trying to get free. He trusted Tsai’dona’s mare to stay with the others.

  He scrambled up on the middle trunk at the rear of the wagon and pulled three torches out of the top trunk. He hobbled to the campfire, lit one torch, bundled all three together, and hurried up the path.

  Lorel stalked to the narrowest point of the little canyon. The turybird was insane. Or suicidal. Or just desperate for a fight.

  Viper hurried up to her, carrying three burning torches. “These won’t last long.”

  “Go get some firewood.” Lorel took two of the torches out of his hands. Tsai’dona grabbed the third. “As much as you can drag.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid before I get back.”

  Lorel snorted and shook her head. She leaned the torches against the rock on either side of the opening before strolling into the mouth of the canyon. Tsai’dona waited a couple of steps behind her.

  Did the turybirds plan to hold off the attackers by sheer will?

  Lorel glanced back at him. “Hurry up, kid.”

  Right. Worrying didn’t help. Viper limped back to the camp and grabbed up as much wood as he could carry. Which wasn’t enough to do much good. Well, he’d simply make as many trips as it took. Or until they ran out of firewood. He didn’t want to even think about that.

  He staggered back to Lorel and dropped the branches at her feet.

  “You got turtle turds for brains.” She kicked the wood to the side of the canyon. “Start a fire over there so we’ll have brands to throw at them.”

  Yowling barks pierced the silence.

  Laying a fire would take minutes they didn’t have, especially when his hands were shaking so hard. Viper knelt by the branches and rearranged them into a shape that would catch quickly. He hastily snapped off all of the twigs and thrust them under the pile of wood.

  Tsai’dona strolled up to him and lit the kindling with her torch.

  A cat-like muzzle crept into the torchlight. Bright, curious eyes examined each of them.

  “Blood in the Weave.” Lorel drew her short sword.

  “Lightning strike it.” Viper stood and stepped back. “That thing is bigger than I am.”

  “I’m thinking it’s near as big as I am.” She stalked to the center of the opening. “It’s got a real pretty pelt on it.”

  “Who’s worried about fur when the thing wants to eat us?” Tsai’dona waved her sword at it. “Concentrate on the target.”

  The creature pounced at her.

  Lorel sidestepped and swung her sword up. Her movements looked slow, almost negligent.

  Viper gasped and grabbed a branch out of the fire to use as a club. To his amazement, the end was already burning.

  Tsai’dona eased one step back.

  Lorel’s sword whizzed down.

  The cat-like head bounced down the canyon, out of the flickering light. The body bounded another two steps before falling over, thrashing weakly.

  “A real pretty pelt, and now it’s mine.” Lorel flicked her sword, flinging off the blood.

  Viper stared at her until he remembered to slam his jaw shut. “How did you…? What is that thing? When did you learn to…?”

  “That there is a serdil.” Lorel stalked back to the mouth of the canyon. “Shut up, kid. I’m busy.”

  What did his turybird know about serdils? The body reminded him of a jackal, but with a dog’s legs and a cat’s paws and tail. He itched to examine the head.

  Lorel glanced back at him. “There’s more, noodle brain. Get that one out of the way.”

  He shuffled close to the corpse, trying to avoid the spreading pool. The blood looked black in the torchlight, and smelled like a blacksmith’s forge. He grabbed a hind leg and tugged.

  The corpse spewed out a river of feces.

  “Stinking vulture!” He jumped back, narrowly avoiding the reeking filth. Praise the Thunderer. He’d never have gotten the stench out of his clothes.

  “Quit messing around, kid!”

  Viper spun to face her.

  A pair of serdils leapt into the mouth of the canyon, followed by a third.

  Lorel crashed her sword across the first one’s neck, sending the head flying. She kicked the second one against the wall, and spun to face the third creature.

  The second serdil bounced off the wall and turned to Viper.

  He backed away hastily and waved the flaming branch in the serdil’s face. Its slitted eyes glittered in the firelight. Finger-long fangs glistened like bahtdor-bone spikes.

  The third serdil sprang at Lorel, yowling loud enough shake rocks off the canyon walls.

  Lorel shoved her blade into the serdil’s mouth. At the same instant, Tsai’dona shoved her sword between the creature’s ribs.

  Viper waved his torch back and forth slowly.

  The surviving serdil’s eyes followed the flame. It hesitated, watching him, watching the improvised torch. Its low growl vibrated through the canyon.

  Lorel yanked her short sword out of the serdil’s mouth. The creature sank to the blood soaked ground, silent, glaring at her. She glanced at Viper, saw him facing down the last serdil. “You need help, kid?” She turned toward him.

  Another serdil leapt through the canyon mouth.

  “Turybird!” Viper screamed.

  Lorel spun back. Her sword clipped the springing serdil across the eyes.

  The serdil facing Viper sprang at him.

  He rammed the flaming branch into the serdil’s face. The creature screamed and flipped backwards.

  Tsai’dona smashed her sword down on the blind serdil’s back.

  The scorched serdil rebounded to its feet.

  Viper wrenched his torch back and bashed the creature over the head.

  The serdil’s fur caught fire.

  His torch sputtered out.

  Lorel leapt across the corpses and whirled her sword at Viper’s serdil.

  A flaming head bounced down the canyon.

  Lorel dashed back to the opening. “Go put that fire out afore it catches the wagon.”

  He tossed his dead torch toward the fire at the canyon’s mouth. “I don’t think it will roll that far.”

  She growled at him and raised one bloody fist.

  “I’m going, I’m going!” He hobbled after the head as fast as he could move and still keep the padded boot on his stump. The stench of burning fur gagged him. He held his breath while he smothered the smoldering flames with dirt.

  He carried the head to the cliff wall, collected the other decapitated heads, and piled them together not far from their campfire. In the flickering light, the cat-like faces snarled and twisted as if they were still alive.
>
  Viper shuddered and backed away. There were certain disadvantages to having an overactive imagination, even if it did help with his magic.

  He trudged up the slope to join the girls at the canyon’s mouth, weaving a path between the corpses, trying to avoid stepping on anything slippery.

  The air stank of blood and urine and serdil feces.

  Both girls stood near the canyon mouth, staring out at the darkness as if they planned to watch all night.

  Lorel glanced at him and grinned. “That was fun, kid. I been wanting me a serdil hide.”

  Tsai’dona sighed. “What’s with you and fur all the sudden?”

  Viper rolled his eyes and tugged another corpse out of the way. “We probably don’t want to know. You two can play with them in the morning.”

  If nothing snuck in and ate them overnight. But anything that tried to sneak past his guardians deserved exactly what it got.

  Chapter 11.

  Icy miswoven wind raked through her hair, yanking it out of her braid and tangling it up again. Sand blew into her face and spattered against her coat. The blood-stained wool wasn’t doing much good to keep out the cold, but it sure looked impressive. Too bad there weren’t nobody around to see it. Not that anyone would care this fraying early in the morning.

  Everything in camp was packed away. Only one chore left.

  The kid sat by the dead campfire and glared at her. Nothing she did made him happy these days.

  Tsai was kneeling on top of the wagon, frowning down at her. Time to get moving before her troops mutinied again.

  Lorel stuck a handful of nails into her mouth and picked up the hammer. She gestured for Tsai to hang the serdil pelt over the side, bloody side out.

  Tsai sighed, but did her duty. They’d argued about enough times over the last few days. About time she quit fussing.

  The kid, though, wouldn’t never quit. He hissed and chucked a rock into the dead fire pit. “Must you nail another filthy hide on my wagon? It already looks like a gory tent from a tanner’s nightmare.”

  Who was he kidding? It didn’t look half that bad. Though it did look pretty weird, all covered in drying leather.

  She pounded in a few nails around the edges of the hide. Just enough to keep the pelt from blowing off in the miswoven wind. Nine should do the job fine. She spat the rest of the nails into her hand.

  “Don’t fret, kid. These’ll sell real quick when we get them to market.” For days she’d thought that money would get through to him, but he was still whining. Now she tried a new argument. “Besides, they protect the paint on your precious wagon from this thread-fraying wind, whilst the wind and snow and grit cleans the meat off the skin.”

  “But you don’t know how to tan them! And they stink!”

  “They do not.” Lorel stepped back to admire her handiwork. Hardly an inch of wagon showed, but she hadn’t put a single nail through the lower layers of fur. “It’s too cold in this Loom-forgotten hole for anything to stink. Here, look at this old one.” She yanked the nails out of a dried out pelt. “See how clean it is? It’s the wind done that. Think what your pretty wagon would look like if I hadn’t put these up. You wouldn’t have no paint at all.”

  The kid sighed and stood up. “There isn’t much left anyway. But I appreciate your efforts.”

  Meaning he didn’t much respect her hard work. The little chunk of Loom lint. She strolled to the back of the wagon and stowed away the hammer and leftover nails.

  Tsai shook her head and climbed down to the ground. “The bog-sunk wagon looks better without the paint.”

  He laughed and waved a gloved fist. “Will you please stop messing around and get on your horses? I want to get out of here before any more of those sandblasted beasts notice us.”

  “Don’t get snarky, kid. We got room for a few more.”

  “You’ve already hidden several stinky half-tanned pelts inside my wagon. And they do stink!” He pulled his coat tighter. Skinny as he was, the cold must be killing him. “I’m sure you’ll get all too many more before we’re through. I’m sick of fighting those blasted, unclassifiable monsters.”

  Yesterday she broke down and asked what he meant by ‘unclassifiable.’ Trust the kid to use fraying big words that don’t mean nothing.

  “Don’t gripe just because you can’t find a serdil in your thread-tangling books.” Lorel swung her saddle onto Nightshade’s back. The stallion glanced back at her with a ‘get on with it, already’ look around his ears. “Ain’t nobody come this way before to write it down. Quit fretting about what it ain’t and start figuring out what it is.”

  The kid cocked his head. “All right. Save one of the next batch for me. But I’ll probably ruin the hide.”

  Finally! She’d wondered if she’d ever get through to him. “I’ll skin it for you, kid. Now that’s more like a sorcerer’s brat. What you gonna do?”

  He grinned widely. “Oh, just write it down.”

  Tsai’dona groaned and ducked behind Sumach. “Now we’re in for it.”

  If it kept him happy, the kid was welcome to write down the whole world. She didn’t care. “Gonna draw a picture?” She was always surprised at how good his pictures turned out. Maybe she could talk him into doing more of it, if drawing kept him quiet.

  “Many, many pictures.” He scrambled up to the wagon’s bench.

  It still amazed her how well he got around on one foot, especially when he decided to climb something. His padded boot was kinda creepy, though.

  She kneed Nightshade’s belly and pulled the cinches tight. Her pretty lad still held his breath when she tightened the girth, but she was proud he didn’t fuss about the saddle no more. She petted the stallion’s neck fondly. “How many pictures can you draw of a dead serdil?”

  “Oh, thousands, I imagine. A few of the outside, and many of the inside.”

  “You gonna cut it open?” Why would he do a fool thing like that? He could barely stand the sight of blood.

  “Very slowly and very carefully. I don’t want to damage the parts I want to draw and write about.”

  Who’d’ve dreamed he’d want to draw blood and guts? “That’s gross, kid.”

  Tsai snickered and peeked around Sumach’s hindquarters.

  He pasted a fake wounded look on his face. “It was your idea.”

  “I ain’t giving you no more ideas. You’re dangerous when you get to thinking too much. Maybe your brains are getting froze?” Oh, the look on his face. She had to keep teasing him. “Yeah, likely. I’ll make you a good cloak tonight. That’ll warm you up.”

  “Of serdil hide?” he asked in a squeaky voice.

  Tsai laughed out loud.

  Lorel nodded. About time she got a proper rise out of both of them.

  “No, thank you. I’m not nearly that cold. You aren’t getting me inside a putrefied hide.”

  Now she had to make him a cloak. How hard could it be? Especially since Tsai knew a bit about sewing.

  And she’d get that cloak on him even if she had to tie him up.

  ***

  That evening the snow danced and glittered in the light of their little fire. The wagon was backed against the shelter of a rocky overhang. The horses, only a few feet away, grazed on dry grass as if they’d discovered a feast, though they watched the landscape warily.

  His own vision was restricted to a gray-fur-edged leather tunnel. Ropes fastened his wrists together, bound his arms to his sides. He’d never forgive those two for the indignity of it.

  Tsai’dona dragged more wood into camp while carefully avoiding his gaze. And he had a few more things he’d like to say to her. The traitor.

  Lorel moved around the camp briskly, heating water and turning the coney (caught in his snare this morning, not from his so-called warriors’ efforts) on its cedar spit. She whistled cheerfully and ignored his baleful glare. No point in talking to her. She had too much practice at ignoring him.

  He huddled within the pale gray fur of his new serdil cloak and waited for them
to burn supper. Then they’d untie him and let him do the cooking.

  Thunderer! What a miserable way to spend the evening. He had to sit here trussed up like a smoked haunch just because he didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

  And the worst of this humiliating mess was she was right. The ridiculous hide didn’t stink. Too much. Mostly of saddle oil and salt. Whatever else they used on it, he didn’t want to know.

  The fur was incredibly thick, the leather soft and supple, far more than an under-tanned pelt should be. And it was warm. He was comfortable for the first time in days. He’d never admit it, though.

  The wagon’s door tilted upward. The Kyridon poked its head under the edge and gazed around the snowy campsite. “The hatchling appears to be bound.”

  Hadn’t it heard the commotion when they tied him up? He’d screamed for help at the top of his lungs. But not even the serdil had bothered to reply.

  “That’s right,” Lorel said cheerfully.

  Tsai’dona snickered and turned away. The traitor. Why couldn’t she take his side for a change?

  The Kyridon blinked at them for a few long moments. “May this one be informed of the particular reason the hatchling is bound?”

  “Your noodle-brained hatchling ain’t got sense enough to stay bundled up warm. So we put the bundling over him.” She dropped several leaves into the kettle and stirred them with a scorched twig.

  He could only hope it was tea leaves she was using. The burnt twig would taste awful enough on its own.

  “This one understands and concurs.” It bowed its head gravely. “This one appreciates the swordling’s excellent guardianship of the hatchling.”

  Lorel sniggered. “There, you hear that, kid?”

  “Go back inside before you freeze the rest of your brains,” he told the traitorous serpent. “Else the turybirds will make you a coat of smelly hides.”

  Tsai’dona giggled and sat on a pelt near the fire – as far from the Kyridon as she could. “Now that would be an interesting project. Yours was too easy.”

  “The method the swordlings contrive to secure a garment to this one will be supremely intriguing. However, the effort shall be intensely appreciated.”

  His jaw dropped open. What? He couldn’t believe it said that.