His eyes widened and he took in a sharp breath. She had never seen a creature like this before. Small as a five-year-old child and scrawny as an old man. But even a fool could see he was shocked. Stunned.
"What did you say?" he said.
"My name"-she fought to get enough breath into her lungs-"Huh-Hweilan!"
He blinked twice, and the fingers of his left hand stopped their intricate motions. The lights decorating his skin and staff dimmed, but they did not go out. She felt the mud around her loosen, and a great deal of it sloughed off into the river, washing over the little creature's feet. Then his eyes narrowed, part suspicion and part curiosity.
"What do you remember?"
The Hunter's eyes blazed. Two green forge fires that gave no heat. A thousand howls filled the night. Raucous cries rained down from the boughs overhead.
Hweilan looked up.
Hundreds of ravens looked down on her, their black eyes reflecting the moonlight. Yellow wolves' eyes watched her from the shadows under the trees. Waiting and hungry, held back only by the will of the antlered thing before her-neither man nor beast, but something far older.
You are mine, Hweilan. You were always mine.
He took off his mask.
She screamed. And then he was inside her.
It was inside her. That presence, that mind, ripping through her essence. She'd once seen a wolf pack ripping into the carcass of a swiftstag, the strongest members of the pack barking and growling and snapping to get at the soft undersides. They beat back the others with tooth and claw, then set to their meal. Now and then a wolf's entire head disappeared into the carcass to get at the choicest bits.
That image flashed through her thoughts as the Hunter's mind tore through hers. Biting and clawing and consuming her. Chewing through every memory, every want and desire, every hidden hope, every secret shame, then going deeper still to-
He bit down.
And something bit back.
Something hidden. Something that had been sleeping for… forever-at least in terms of her own life.
But it was awake now. Awake and raging.
The Hunter bit down upon it, and that thing-that other-blazed.
Like a wolf who had bitten into its prey, anticipating soft flesh, only to find blazing molten steel in its mouth, the Hunter screamed, more a shriek of spirit than sound.
The world shattered.
Her mind snapped, like a rope holding too much weight, and she fell.
The horror had not passed. But it retreated. No longer ripping and tearing through her mind, it had pulled back to-
"What do you remember?"
Gleed lashed out with his staff, and the thick knob of it struck her across the forehead. "Answer me, Meyla."
She blinked through tears, which fell down her cheeks and mixed with the rain. "My name is Hweilan."
"So you say. What do you remember? And how do you remember it?"
The lights on his staff and skin blazed again, and the wet earth holding her constricted. She could feel her muscles being squeezed around her bones. The mud pulled her closer to him, so that his face was only inches from her own. In the light cast by the runes she could see that one of his eyes was a milky blur. His hot breath wafted against her face. It had an oddly bitter, spicy scent, like a very strong exotic tea.
"Now, girl," he said, "you are going to tell me everything."
"H-h-he… killed him." It all came out in a burst. "Th-that… that thing k-killed Lendri. Ripped… ripped his heart right out of his chest. Oh… holy gods!"
Hweilan vomited. There was little in her stomach, but bile surged up her throat and out. Gleed barely managed to step away in time.
"Mad as a half-drowned songbird," he muttered. "Best get you inside, eh? Then you can tell me everything. You will tell me everything."
He turned away, and the mud holding her collapsed with a splash. She found herself laying face first on the ground, one foot dragging in the river.
She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall into the mud. "Please go away."
Something tapped the back of her skull.
"Hey!"
Gleed stood before her, green light still spilling off his staff and upraised hand. "You're going to be difficult, aren't you?"
He nudged her with his staff again, and something about it made her suddenly angry. She slapped it away and glared up at him. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are and where I am and how I got here."
"Have it your way," he said, then broke off into a low incantation.
Hweilan tried to ignore his voice. But then she heard something else: a wet, raspy slithering. She looked up. The nearby foliage-vines, branches, leaves, even roots dripping black mud-twisted and turned, forming a vaguely manlike shape. No head or eyes, but it had two massive arms. Too late she realized they were reaching for her.
The branches and vines entangled her and lifted her up.
She yelled and kicked and thrashed. But the branches only pulled tighter, pinning her arms to her sides and wrapping her legs together, snug as a shroud.
"Struggle all you like," said Gleed. "But I do wish you'd stop the screaming. It might draw attention we don't want. There are far crueler things in these woods than me."
Hweilan screamed louder.
Gleed shrugged, then turned and walked away. Just when the rain and shadows were about to swallow the last of his light, he gestured over his shoulder, and the mass of vines and branches holding Hweilan shambled after him.
The storm passed. Hweilan had stopped screaming-her throat had gone too raw. When she felt the thing carrying her stop, she opened her eyes. The forest ended at the shore of a lake, its flat black surface sparkled here and there with moonlight breaking through silver-limned gashes in the clouds.
In the midst of the lake stood the most decrepit tower Hweilan had ever seen-and she'd grown up in a land dotted with old ruins. Not much taller than a healthy spruce, the tower stood on an island only slightly larger than the base of the building. The tower looked as if it were only being held together by the moss and vines entangling it. Ravens roosted along the crumbling upper turrets, and dozens of bats fluttered over the water, feasting on insects.
The lake was fed by a waterfall that fell over a small ridge a stone's throw to their left. The sound of it made Hweilan shudder. The Nar word for waterfall was kuhunde, which meant "mountain laughter." In Narfell, the snow in the mountains only melted enough to form waterfalls in the height of the hottest summers. To the Nar, the sound of the falls sounded like the mountains laughing for joy at the rare warmth. But this waterfall, coming out of the dark woods to feed the stream that ringed the tower, held no laughter. It sounded more like the growl of some ill-tempered beast, warning her to stay away.
Gleed led them along the shore until they came to a small spit of land that pointed to the tower like a slightly hooked finger. He stood at the water's edge, raised his staff, and muttered an incantation that Hweilan could barely hear over the fluttering of the bats. The water rippled, and a bridge emerged. Parts of it were made from old flagstones held up by the roots of sunken trees, but great lengths of the bridge were formed of the roots themselves, raw bedrock, or soaked water-weeds that squished under Gleed's shoes as he led the way.
As the vine-thing carried Hweilan over the bridge, she heard something else. The whole structure of the tower rattled and tinkled in the breeze. Hanging from every available vine branch, twig, and shoot were hundreds of bells-some large as helmets, others smaller than thimbles. And amongst the bells were bits of chain, chimes, and coins of every shape and size. As they were out of the woods, the moonlight seemed very bright, and by its light Hweilan saw that some of the coins were old and black with tarnish, while others seemed newly minted.
Gleed saw her staring. He gestured around with his staff. "Nasty things haunt these woods. Lots of nasty things. There's power in gold, silver, and iron. Especially iron. These talismans keep all but the nastiest away when I'm not h
ome."
"Demons," Hweilan rasped, and winced at the pain in her throat.
"Eh?" said Gleed. A few bats fluttered around him. He shooed them away with his staff.
Hweilan was no scholar. But she had seen the mad, hungry thing looking out from her Uncle Soran's eyes-and later from Kadrigul's. Nothing could stop them. Not arrows and blades, or even the earth-shattering power of Kunin Gatar's magic. Everything Hweilan, her friends, and her enemies had thrown at the thing had done no good. It just kept coming. Relentless. Until it had faced Nendawen. Only then had it truly faltered. And the scream that had seemed to stab needles into her bones when Nendawen had destroyed it… she could think of no other explanation.
She looked up at the metal-encrusted tower. "Will your talismans keep out demons?"
"No demons here," said Gleed. "This isn't the Abyss, though you may think otherwise in the coming days."
The vine-thing bore Hweilan through a door and down low hallways cut through the black stone of the lakebed. As Gleed led them downward, torches sputtered to life in his wake, flickering blue-green flames that popped and hissed but gave no smoke. Shiny green beetles scuttled out of the light and sought refuge in the cracks between the bricks. Silver spiders-small bodies, with long legs that looked sharp as needles-scuttled out of the shadows and sat in their webs or hung from tiny threads and watched them.
They passed other doors, all shut tight, runes and arcane symbols etched or burned along every board. Beyond, one passage was so utterly black that Hweilan couldn't see anything. But she could hear water dripping inside, and the smell that emanated out of the dark was so utterly rank that Hweilan's jaws locked and her throat constricted.
Not far beyond that, the passageway ended at an archway that filled most of the wall. A few stairs led down to a stout wooden door.
Gleed turned. "Your escort can go no farther. Time to walk."
He snapped his fingers, and the life humming through her bonds burst and seeped away. To Hweilan it felt like an arrow piercing a full wineskin-an instant of collapse, then the contents soaked into the ground and were gone.
Hweilan found herself on the passage floor in a mass of vines, wet roots, and mud.
"Get up and follow me," said Gleed.
Hweilan pushed herself up on legs that felt hollow and brittle. How long since she'd had a good meal? She couldn't remember. Her stomach felt small and shriveled, and her hands trembled as she tore away the vines and slipped out of the roots. When all but a few clinging tendrils lay in a pile at her feet, Gleed turned and started down the stairs.
Seeing him in the torchlight was the first really good look she'd had at him. Hobgoblins and worse filled the mountains west of her home, and she'd seen them a few times-prisoners brought in for questioning or bandits for judgment. They had been larger and much haler-looking than this shriveled old creature, but if he wasn't a goblin, he was certainly close kin to them.
Hweilan made her decision between one breath and the next. She turned and ran, going back the way they had come. Weak and hungry as she was, she knew that little creature stood no chance of catching her-if she could get out of the range of whatever dark arts he had at his command.
Behind, she heard him curse, but she kept going, past the room of dripping rankness and the dozen doorways, around the bend and up the stairs into moonlight.
Her foot was on the topmost stair when she saw him. She stopped so suddenly that she almost fell.
Lendri stood naked at the water's edge, one hand hanging limply at his side, the other grasping at the ruin of his chest, trying to hold in the heart that still beat there. He fell to his knees.
"All dead," he said. "Your family, Scith… me." His voice took on the timbre of a snarl. There had always been something of the beast in Lendri. But this was rabid. "All dead. Because of you. Because you-"
Hweilan heard the cawing of ravens.
Wolves in the distance.
And then the darkness took her.
She could hear a crackle and the low hum of coals breathing and she felt herself surrounded in the warmth of blankets soft as rabbit fur. A rich earthy aroma filled her head, and her ears caught the soft clink and scrape of a spoon stirred inside a kettle. She lay there, for one brief moment thinking she was home again, spring on the wane, and any moment one of the handmaidens would come through her bedroom door, telling her if she didn't get up and wash soon, she'd have no time for breakfast before today's lessons.
But then she opened her eyes.
A fire burned in a stone hearth, a black iron kettle set over the flames, and Gleed hunched over it, sipping from a silver spoon.
"Awake at last, eh?" he said, and turned to her.
He no longer wore the thick cloak and hood in which she'd first seen him in the woods. His feet and arms were bare, and he wore clothes of simply cut brown canvas, a long vest closed by a belt rope, the ends of which dangled to his knees. A dozen or more necklaces hung around his neck-fine chains, braided leather, and others no more than fraying thread. Hanging from every one were tiny jewels, bits of bone, black feathers, and medallions-some round and gleaming like silver coins, others that looked to have been crafted from iron nails twisted into intricate shapes.
Seeing his ruddy, leathery skin, the too-wide mouth, tiny nose framed by huge, round eyes-one orange the other milky and blind-and the pointed, erect ears, and there was no longer any doubt.
"You're a goblin," she said.
He smirked. "Oh, you are a bright one."
She looked around, her eyes skittish as a bird who has returned to her nest to find a viper coiled around her eggs. She lay in a nest of pillows, blankets, and rugs. Beyond was a chamber-so low-ceilinged that she would knock her head on the cobwebbed rafters if she stood to her full height. A bed and low table took up one wall. No chairs-the table was low enough that one obviously sat on the floor. Other than the doorway and hearth, every bit of spare wall space was filled with shelves holding tomes, scrolls, the reconstructed skeletons of small animals, and dozens and dozens of bottles of colored glass, wood, and clay. Not a single window. It looked more like the room of an eccentric old scholar than a wrinkled old goblin.
"Why am I here?" said Hweilan. Her eyes seemed drawn to the kettle bubbling over the fire, and she remembered every story about goblins she'd ever heard.
Gleed chuckled. "You're far too big to fit into my pot-and I stopped eating girls a long time ago."
She couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He used the spoon to pull the kettle from its hook and set it away from the fire to cool.
"Usually I have a whole speech prepared," he said. " 'My name is Gleed. The Master has sent you to me.' Then I give them a demeaning name to keep them in their place. But you, little girl, you seem to have broken the pattern." He made a sound that was part laugh and part cough. "I've been teaching your kind since before your grandmother's grandmother caught her man. But in all my years, you are the first to come to me knowing who you are. Before, my charges came with their memories wiped clean-their hearts new iron, ready to be honed according to the Master's will. But you… you know who you are… Hweilan. How can this be?"
"I don't know," she rasped.
Gleed's eyes narrowed and he watched her, obviously disbelieving. "Tell me what you remember," he said.
She tried to swallow. Her throat felt rough as baked boot leather-from her screaming earlier. And how long since she had last taken a drink?
"Water," she said.
Gleed shambled off, then returned with a silver goblet that looked very large in his hands. His other hand crumbled something and sprinkled it into the contents of the goblet, then he handed it to her.
She took it and stared at the pinkish contents. "What-?"
"No poison," he said. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have left you in the creek to drown. Just a bit of wine and water with a few special herbs. They'll soothe your throat and settle your stomach so that you don't wretch all over my floor after you eat."
She took a tent
ative sip. Both wine and herbs were very bitter, but the concoction seemed more water than anything. She drank it all in three swallows, each hurting a bit less than the last.
Gleed retrieved his staff from the nearest shelf and leaned on it. He fixed her with his one good eye.
"Where is Menduarthis?" she asked.
"Who?"
"He… he helped me escape from… that thing."
The old goblin chucked. "Well then, I'd say he did a poor job of it. I do not know this Menduarthis or what might have happened to him."
"He was hurt." He might have been more than hurt. Might be dead. The last Hweilan had seen of him, he'd been lying senseless on the ground, bleeding profusely from his head.
"I've told you I know nothing of him, girl. Now, speak. Tell me of Hweilan and how she came to be here."
She gave him no intimate details. Nothing of her childhood or family. Just "Creel killed my family" and then picking up where she'd met Lendri in the foothills. Gleed grinned as she told of Kunin Gatar and how she, Lendri, and Menduarthis had escaped. Her breath caught as she came to Lendri's death-not so much at seeing him killed as at the memory of his ghost in the moonlight outside. She told how the thing that had killed Lendri had been about to kill her.
"And then he appeared," she said, her eyes closed, her breath scarcely above a whisper. A figure, taller than any man Hweilan had ever seen. Moonlight glinted off pale scars that ribboned his muscled frame. His left hand dripped blood. In his right he gripped a spear, its black head barbed and cruel. Antlers sprouted from his skull.
"The Master," said Gleed, and in his voice Hweilan heard… not reverence. Ecstasy. The voice of a drunk long denied his drink who is suddenly given a priceless vintage.
"The… Master?" she said.
"Nendawen to those mortals who knew him best," he said. "Master of the Hunt, lord of this realm. He saved you, yes?"
Eyes still squeezed shut, Hweilan nodded.
She heard Gleed chuckle. But there was no humor in it. It was the laugh of a little boy dangling a mouse over the cat.
"He… filled you, yes? Spirit and mind. Heart and soul. The Master sifted you, scraped you, immersed you in his holy will."
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