Steel and Stone tms-5

by Ellen Porath

  "By Takhisis!" Kitiara ejaculated. "You didn't tell me the thing could speak!"

  "I didn't know myself."

  "Youuu havvve no chanccce, huuumanzzz." The will-o'-the-wisp flickered from green to blue to violet to glaring white.

  Tanis swallowed and gripped his sword more tightly. "It's vibrating faster. It must make sounds that way."

  "I willlll… killllll youuu… slowwwllly."

  Kitiara whispered, "How can we slay it?"

  "It can die by the sword, but we have to kill it without letting it touch us."

  The thing drew closer. "You willllll feel much painnn, huuumanzzz."

  Tanis and Kitiara held their swords before them. Both had their daggers drawn as well.

  "Would an arrow kill it?"

  Tanis nodded.

  "Imagine the fearrr, humanzzz. Think about yourrr deathsss."

  "You're the bowman, half-elf," Kitiara said. "The sword's my weapon. I'll cover you."

  "Youuu willlll struggllle… for aim, huuumanzzz. Youuu willlll pannnic." The thing floated still closer. "Halfff-elfff. Youuu willll die firrrrst, I thinnnk."

  "It's trying to unsettle you, Tanis. Remember, you have Kitiara Uth Matar at your back."

  Tanis whispered, "Keep it distracted. When I shoot, hit the ground."

  Kitiara was silent, motionless for a brief time. Then she pivoted to face the will-o'-the-wisp. She set her boots in the soggy peat.

  "All right, beast," she snapped.

  "Yessssss?" The sibilance echoed in the dangling moss, reverberating off the quicksand's surface. Out of the corner of Tanis's eye, he saw a bog spider creep from the shadows onto the flattened peat.

  Kitiara's voice was haughty. "We hold no fear for you, beast!"

  Something like sibilant laughter throbbed around them. "My sssenssess telllll mmmee otherwissse, huuumannn. Indeeeed, I'mmmm feeeeeding quite wellll on yourrr terror. I will ssavvvorr yourrr ttasty deathsss."

  At that moment, Tanis slipped an arrow from his quiver and, in the same motion, dove for his bow. He rolled away from Kitiara and the will-o'-the-wisp, sending the spider scrambling back into the grass. Then he nocked the arrow and let it fly. Kitiara was already down on one knee, her sword outstretched. Her dagger carved circles in the air.

  The arrow arced through the night and nicked the edge of the pulsating ball of light. The thing disappeared in a small white explosion.

  There was silence.

  Then more silence. Tanis and Kitiara looked at each other. "That was it?" Kitiara asked disbelievingly.

  "I don't know," the half-elf said, rising. "I've never fought one of these things before." He nocked another arrow and moved toward Kitiara. She kept her battle stance. Her gaze flicked from side to side.

  Suddenly another explosion rocked the clearing. Purple, blue, and green lightning fizzled in the grass.

  "Halfff-elfff!"

  Standing next to the quicksand, Tanis swung to meet the new threat and fired off another arrow. The shot went wild, and the will-o'-the-wisp bore down on him, flashing deep blue lightning bolts into the air. Tanis heard Kitiara shout, "Don't let it touch you!" and then he leaped out of the way. The thing whooshed past as he jumped.

  The instant his body hit the cold, black surface of the quicksand, the half-elf knew he'd done exactly what the will-o'-the-wisp wanted. He started to thrash in the sticky muck until he realized that his struggling was only drawing him deeper into the deadly sand. Already he was submerged to the waist, out of arm's reach of the edge of the pit.

  Kitiara shouted a battle cry, and Tanis saw her slash at the will-o'-the-wisp. He struggled again but only succeeded in sinking farther.

  He lay back against the muck. Above him and off to his right, the battle raged on. The will-o'-the-wisp, sparking green and purple, attacked and withdrew, obviously hoping to push Kitiara toward the quicksand, but the swordswoman refused to comply. She maintained her position amid the scattered bones, weapons, and coin pouches on the wide path. Tanis shouted encouragement; Kitiara smiled grimly and fought on.

  The half-elf caught sight of a branch overhead, silhouetted by Solinari. If he could just reach it… Tanis stretched. His fingers brushed a few twigs. He tried not to think of previous victims who'd tried the same escape. He stretched again. His right hand clenched a twig and pulled; the twig broke off in his hand. His left hand managed to catch a slightly larger twig, and he pulled the branch toward him; this time it held.

  Finally Tanis hung by both arms from a branch the thickness of his thumb, which, while not enough to stop his sinking, did slow it. That might buy enough time. Stouter branches, ones that still had leaves, bobbed a foot above the small one, but that short distance might as well have been a mile.

  The will-o'-the-wisp still battled with tenacity. The swordswoman fought back with dagger and sword, darting, feinting, slashing at the bobbing ball of light. "Come on, you insignificant firefly!" she taunted. "I've seen bigger sparks from steel and stone!"

  "By the gods," Tanis whispered in awe, "she's not afraid of it!"

  The will-o'-the-wisp flared at Kitiara's taunt. When it subsided, it had diminished in size. Tanis realized Kitiara's stratagem. If the will-o'-the-wisp fed on fear, maybe it could be weakened by experiencing the opposite emotions. As Kitiara continued her taunts, Tanis shifted his grip on the branch.

  His left hand brushed against something furry.

  Tanis looked up, and his breath caught in his throat. A poisonous bog spider, larger than his fist, crouched on the branch right next to his hand. He tried to shift to the right. His movement pulled him a hand's span deeper into the quicksand, and the purplish creature followed him along the branch.

  "Kit!" he shouted.

  The swordswoman looked over, grimaced, and doubled her efforts against the will-o'-the-wisp. But the bobbing creature swooped away and halted just above the branch where the half-elf hung.

  'The will-o'-the-wisp is growing larger on your fear, Tanis!" Kitiara yelled. "Don't feed it!"

  The purple spider reached out a leg and caressed Tanis's little finger. "Vallenwoods," the half-elf murmured to himself.

  "Solace," Kitiara added. "Rope bridges. Spiced potatoes and ale at the Inn of the Last Home."

  The will-o'-the-wisp hovered lower; the poisonous spider placed another leg, then another, on Tanis's hand. The tiny claws at the end of the legs pricked the skin on the half-elf's hand. He dared not move; he tried not to think of the spider's venomous fangs, but the will-o'-the-wisp's color deepened and flared.

  "Flint Fireforge," Tanis muttered desperately. "Spiced potatoes."

  Kitiara shifted her handhold on her dagger; her strong fingers now gripped the blade instead of the hilt. The will-o'-the-wisp was still, only a foot from Tanis, apparently concentrating on the half-elf. Kitiara squinted, aiming. Then, with one fluid movement, she flung the dagger, shouting, "Tanis! Let go!" at the same time. Tanis plummeted into the quicksand, followed by the spider.

  Kitiara's dagger flipped end over end through the air, through the place where Tanis had hung, and caught the will-o'-the-wisp in the exact center.

  The air was filled with the force of the explosion. This time the creature was gone for good.

  Chapter 3

  A Complication

  "Amazing how a bath and clean clothes can improve a man," Kitiara remarked the next day while she and the half-elf inspected the teeming Haven market. "You little resemble the slimy creature I pulled from the quicksand, half-elf. Dauntless barely knew you-once we caught up with him, that is."

  Tanis smiled. "The horses are enjoying oats and mash at the livery and could use a day's rest. We have the will-o'-the-wisp's treasure to spend, a sunny day, and time to enjoy it." He inclined his head. "May I buy you breakfast, Kitiara Uth Matar?"

  Kitiara assented with an elaborate nod. They'd eaten once, in their room at the Seven Centaurs Inn, but now, at midday, their stomachs rumbled again. "It must be the result of weeks of those infernal elven battle rations," she
commented, pausing to admire a vendor's wares-metal trays of fragrant venison sizzling with onions and eggs. "I'll eat anything but more elven quith-pa. Dried fruit, pah!" She was about to order a plate of the fried meat when her gaze was attracted by a display of flaky pastry filled with custard and drizzled with strawberry icing. She halted as if mesmerized. "Oh, the decisions," she murmured happily.

  "We'll have a plate of the venison and two of those frosted pastries," Tanis told the vendor as Kitiara vacillated. "Lest you drool all over the man's wares," he told the swordswoman, who took the teasing with good humor.

  Conversation took second place to eating for a time as the half-elf and swordswoman strolled down an avenue of the teeming market. Dressed in a short, split skirt of black leather and an overblouse of eggshell-colored linen, Kitiara drew many admiring looks from passersby, which she accepted with insouciance. Tanis, on the other hand, wore a pair of floppy, gathered pants in dark blue, plus a matching cotton shirt, both borrowed from the portly innkeeper at the Seven Centaurs. The shirt rippled with the slender half-elf's movements.

  Kitiara eyed him again. "We need to find you new clothes to replace your ruined leathers, half-elf. I'm used to you in Plainsman garb; it suits you better than the dress of an overfed city-dweller."

  Taller than Kitiara, Tanis had a better vantage, and in response he slipped a hand through her arm and drew her through the crowd. "I see just the place," he said.

  The half-elf stopped before a large wagon, uncovered at the back but with a shell-like contraption over the driver's seat. Kitiara could see from the wagon's design that it took four mules to pull the top-heavy thing. Standing atop the ribbon-festooned vehicle was a hill dwarf with a rust-colored beard that curled down to his belt buckle. He wore homespun dyed forest green, plus brown leather boots scuffed with what was probably decades of use.

  Tanis and Kitiara waited while the dwarf finished with a customer, a loud woman who couldn't decide between a pearl-and-platinum hair ornament and a seashell comb. "How old would you say this dwarf is?" Kitiara asked casually.

  Tanis considered. "Flint's nearly one hundred and fifty, and this dwarf certainly looks younger than Flint. I'd say this fellow's been around about a century. About ten years older than me."

  Kitiara protested, "I'm spending time with someone who was an old man when I was born?"

  When Tanis nodded and murmured, "In human years, yes," she snorted.

  "Do you care?" he asked.

  Kitiara laughed. "No," she admitted. "It's not as though we're going to get married or anything."

  The woman finally left with the comb and the hair bauble, and the dwarf who owned the wagon ambled over to Tanis and Kitiara. The vendor remained on the back of the wagon, glaring down at the crowd and picking his way among his wares with delicacy. "What do you want?" he muttered to the half-elf and swordswoman.

  Kitiara looked annoyed by the dwarf's brusque-ness, but Tanis, accustomed to Flint's blunt ways, only smiled. Crustiness wasn't exactly uncommon among hill dwarves. "We're looking for clothes for me, and a dagger for the lady," the half-elf said.

  The dwarf looked pointedly at Tanis's ill-fitting garb. "Thinking of leaving the traveling minstrel revue, then, are you?"

  Kitiara bristled; Tanis put a restraining hand on her arm and signaled her to overlook the jibe. The surest way to annoy hill dwarves-or Flint Fireforge, at least-was to pretend to ignore their griping.

  "Do you trade with Plainsmen?" the half-elf asked.

  "I trade with everybody," the dwarf said grumpily, "and they all try to take advantage of me. Plainsmen, gnomes, even other dwarves. You'd think 1 was an infernal nabob, the way they try to cheat me."

  "I'm looking for a pair of leather breeches and a leather shirt," Tanis interjected.

  "With fringe, I suppose," the dwarf complained. "Everybody wants fringe. Damned frippery. What use on Ansalon is fringe, I ask you?"

  Tanis smiled gently while Kitiara steamed, her brows knit over smoldering eyes. "Fringe would be fine," Tanis said, "but it's not necessary"-the half-elf paused significantly-"if you don't have it."

  The dwarf rose to the bait. " 'Course I have it! What kind o' cheap outfit you think I'm runnin' here, half-elf?"

  Kitiara pulled her arm away from the half-elf and pointed at the dwarf. Her voice crackled. "Listen, old dwarf, do you want us to spend our steel elsewhere?"

  The dwarf slowly swiveled to glare down at Kitiara from the back of the wagon. His eyes were the same green as his breeches and shirt. "The name's Sonnus Ironmill, not 'old dwarf,' young lady. You the hoyden lookin' for a dagger?"

  Looking over Kitiara's head, the dwarf addressed the crowd in general. "A sword ain't enough for this minx; noooo, she needs a dagger, too. How about a mace and pike as well?" He looked down at his fuming customer. "What kind o' folks you hang around with, anyway? Or"-he leaned over and whispered-"do things get a mite touchy at the ladies' quilting parties now and then?"

  Tanis bent toward Kitiara. "He's enjoying this," he whispered.

  Kitiara looked from Tanis to Sonnus Ironmill and frowned. "I'm looking for a dagger," she finally said. "I lost my old one in some quicksand."

  The dwarf did a double take. "Eh? Quicksand?" Then he caught himself and recovered his grousing tone. "You'll want lots of jewels and pearl inlay and the like, no doubt. Damned unnecessary. Decoration can throw off the entire balance of a weapon."

  "Listen," she snapped, "do you have a dagger to sell me or not?"

  " 'Course I have a dagger!" the dwarf said, stomping over to a trunk, opening it, and tossing a folded bundle of leather at the half-elf. "Got scabbards, too, but I can see by the sheath showing from under that short skirt of yours that you don't need one of those."

  Tanis caught the bundle of leather; it was a full suit in the style of the Plainsmen-fawn-soft deerhide the color of polished oak, fringed along the back yoke. Someone had embroidered the hem with beads. "May I try it on in your shack?" the half-elf asked, pointing at the turtlelike contraption at the front of the wagon.

  " 'Course. Were you planning to take your clothes off right here in publ… Hey! Did you say 'shack'?" The dwarf pulled up short. As Tanis leaped onto the wagon, the half-elf took the full force of a vile stare from Sonnus Ironmill. Tanis merely shrugged and headed for the dwarf's quarters. The dwarf snatched a tray of daggers, plucked off a nest of silk scarves that had fallen over on the tray, and turned back toward Kitiara. " 'Shack,' he calls it," Ironmill groused under his breath. "Price o' leathers just doubled for that."

  As Tanis changed into the garb in the dimness of the cramped interior, he heard a new, piping voice mingle with Sonnus Ironmill's complaining tones.

  "Nice daggers, Sonnus! I found a jeweled sword once, which was a lucky thing because the owner showed up when I was trying to figure out who to return it to, and he was really upset that he'd lost it. I knew he was glad I'd found it, even though he was too upset to be glad, really. I guess he'd been plenty worried. I-"

  "Get out of here, you wretched kender!" the dwarf shouted. "And if you steal just one more thing from this wagon, I'll… I'll sell you to the minotaurs for goat food!"

  "Steal?" The little voice dripped with hurt feelings. "I wouldn't steal, Sonnus. I can't help it that everyone loses things and that I'm lucky enough to f-"

  "Enough!" the dwarf boomed. "Out!"

  Tanis heard a thump that might have been a kender hitting the side of a wagon. As the half-elf pulled Sonnus Ironmill's shirt over his head, Kitiara's cool voice was the next sound he heard. "How much for this dagger, dwarf?"

  The dwarf named a price. Kitiara haggled him down, and they had just struck a deal as Tanis emerged from Ironmill's hut. "I'll take it," he told the dwarf, admiring the fit, "if the price is right."

  "Well…" The dwarf stroked his luxuriant beard. "It seems to me that suit may well be the only one of its kind west of Que-Shu, which is where I got it, and didn't it cost me a pretty pile of coins… Its rarity increases its value, I'd think."


  "Except no one west of Que-Shu but the half-elf would want it," Kitiara said as she fingered the gathered pouch into which they'd put the coins they'd found at the will-o'-the-wisp's lair. "You're lucky to be getting rid of it, dwarf. Maybe we should look somewhere else, Tanis." Tanis nodded.

  Sonnus Ironmill frowned at them both. "Five steel," he pronounced.

  "Three," Kitiara and Tanis said at the same time.

  "Four."

  "Done!"

  Kitiara paid Sonnus Ironmill and slipped her new dagger, with its hilt inlaid with tiger's-eyes, into her sheath. As she and Tanis plunged back into the milling crowd, they heard the dwarven vendor greet a customer with, "Well, what do you want?"

  Kitiara brushed past a female kender, a waist-high creature with the race's characteristic long brown hair gathered in a topknot. "That's the creature who tried to rob the dwarf," the swordswoman commented to Tanis.

  "Rob!" the kender exclaimed. "I never steal. I do have incredible luck finding things. Do you think some people are just born with luck? I do. My sisters and I all have it. But I…" Brown eyes doelike with innocence, she was still chattering when a trio of teenaged boys shoved between Kitiara and the kender. The childlike creature was lost to view, her lilting voice swallowed by the cacophony of the late-morning marketplace.

  Tanis and Kitiara slipped among the marketgoers. The din was practically deafening. A seller of tapestries argued with a vendor of leather footwear; each accused the other of letting his wares spill into the other's territory. Dozens of vendors tried to outdo each other in shouting their products' superiority to the crowd.

  An illusionist charmed the crowd. A juggler balanced a bottle on his head while twirling flaming batons. A veil-draped seeress offered to look into the future of those with money enough-and gullibility enough-to pay for the service. A gnome sold cymbals and Aeolian harps, flat boxes with strings, played, not by fingers, but by the wind. Two humans, a man and a woman, sat on a grassy hummock overlooking the market, tuning a pair of three-stringed, triangular guitars.

  Sellers hawked scarves, perfumes, and fine clothing, all of which Kitiara ignored, and swords, armor, and saddlery, which she stopped to admire.