Hand of the Hunter con-2

by Mark Sehestedt

  "Stand back!" Ulender called, and began the final words that would release the spell.

  Kovannon shuffled sideways through the snow.

  The woman brought the sword around, almost nonchalantly, and cut Durel's head from his shoulders. A gout of blood shot up from the gap between his shoulders, spraying the woman, then the body hit the ground.

  Ulender was pronouncing the last word of the spell when the woman took one step forward and hurled Durel's head at him. It struck Ulender in the chest, knocking him back. The gathered power of his magic sparked and fizzled out of his fingers, falling on the snow where it steamed.

  She threw the sword next. It tumbled end over end one full revolution before burying itself in Ulender's gut. His eyes went wide and he sat heavily in the snow. He looked down at the steel protruding from his body, opened his mouth, and a stream of dark blood ran out over his chin.

  "Hurts, doesn't it?" said the woman, and she turned her gaze on Kovannon.

  He raised his axe and stood his ground.

  "Tell me of this… queen," she said.

  Kovannon just stared back at her.

  "No?" said the woman. "Why? Aren't you afraid of what I will do to you if you don't tell me?"

  Kovannon swallowed and then spoke the wholehearted truth. "I am more afraid of what she'll do to me if I do. Death at your hands would seem a relief by comparison."

  The woman cocked her head, again reminding Kovannon of some strange bird. And not in many, many years had he felt more like a helpless worm.

  "I believe you," said the woman. "If she is the type of queen you say, then she will understand this. Tell your queen that nothing this side of Toril is safe. Her people come out, I kill them. She comes herself, I kill her. These lands are closed to her and all her people. Unless she gives me what I want."

  Kovannon could scarcely believe it. Tell your queen, she said. That meant she was going to let him live.

  "What is it you want?" he said.

  "Give me the girl, and I'll go away."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Do better tomorrow, or I kill you.

  And Hweilan had done better. She'd still taken a beating. In fact, on the second day of training Ashiin broke Hweilan's right arm. But Gleed had set the bone and given her the foulest-tasting concoctions to speed the healing.

  "Let the right arm heal," Ashiin told her the next day. "Until it does, you fight with your left. You do as I tell you, or I break the left. Then you'll fight with your feet. Disappoint me there, and I break your neck."

  Hweilan learned to fight with her left. At first with nothing more than her naked fist. Then a blade. Then with whatever came readily to hand.

  She preferred the blade. By the time her right arm had healed, Hweilan knew a dozen ways to kill with the sharp edge, fifty with the point, and several with the pommel. Once, her determination and fury got the better of her, and she gave Ashiin a deep gash down her forearm. She was so shocked that she froze, eyes wide, andAshiin might have punched her. But it could just as easily have been a kick or a swipe of the elbow. Hweilan could never remember. But she did remember waking to see Ashiin standing over her, completely undisturbed by the steady stream of blood running down her arm, and drip-drip-dripping off her middle finger and onto Hweilan's face.

  "You never apologize for doing as I tell you," said Ashiin. "And you never let go your guard. Now get up."

  Hweilan got up.

  For the first time since Hweilan had known her, Ashiin smiled. "That was a good strike. You're learning. Well done."

  And so it continued. Day after day. In the deep woods, learning to use tree trunks and boughs and the uncertain ground to her advantage. In the streams, learning to swim and fight despite the cold water, the constantly shifting rocks, and the current ever pushing at her.

  Once Hweilan had learned to defend herself and learned to strike to kill, then she learned to hunt. Not like Scith had taught her. He had taught her to track, how the animals used the landscape to their advantage, and how to use it against them. He told her that in ancient days, men learned to hunt by watching wolves, by hunting as pack and exploiting their prey's weaknesses. Ashiin taught her to stalk, to use her enemies' fear against them, and to hunt as the fox, by choosing her prey, getting in close and quiet, and striking before the prey even knew she was there.

  "Every enemy has a weakness," said Ashiin. "Find it. Use it. And the strongest foe will fall before you."

  But no matter how strong she grew, how fast, how agile… still she was no match for Ashiin. The woman moved quick as an adder and hit harder than a bull.

  One evening, after a particularly rough beating from her teacher, Hweilan's spirits were so low that she actually confided in Gleed.

  The old goblin had already set a cold, clammy poultice on her swollen right eye. He was setting another concoction to simmer on the fire before he set about the work of pulling her right arm back into its socket.

  "H-how?" said Hweilan. Her jaw was trembling so badly that she had to close her eyes a moment and gather the strength to speak. It wasn't pain. She had long since passed beyond the pain. But the very last threads of her body's strength were fraying and about to snap. "How c-can I ever pass her tests?"

  Gleed stood behind her, set a gentle hand on her hanging shoulder, and placed the flat of his other palm on her back. "Ready?" he said.

  She nodded.

  He pulled.

  She screamed.

  But she did not pass out. That was something. Last time, she had passed out.

  "Fighting," said Gleed, "killing… it's more than knowing how. It's about how far you are willing to go. And you, Hweilan, you are still holding back. When you hunt Jagun Ghen and his minions, you cannot hesitate. You must strike without pity, without remorse, no matter the face they wear."

  Hweilan moved her arm tentatively. It sent a glass-edge of pain sliding down her spine, but it still wasn't as bad as last time.

  "She's trying to make me into a beast," said Hweilan. She couldn't help the tone of petulance in her voice. She'd been raised in a household of knights, to whom honor was more precious than life. To them, battle was an art, could even be a sacred act of devotion. To Ashiin, killing seemed a primal instinct, a need, no different than hunger or fear. To Ashiin, being a killer was not a matter of doing, but being, and Hweilan feared that she could never become that.

  "She is not." Gleed turned away from the iron cauldron he had been stirring. "A beast cannot be made, stupid girl. A beast is woken. No. Ashiin is not making you into a beast. She is trying to beat the scared, spoiled little girl out of you so that when the beast does come-and it will; it will-a little of the woman might survive."

  Three days later, when it was time for her lesson with Ashiin, Gleed followed her out of the tower, a bundle on his back. He saw the inquiring look she cast in his direction as she climbed out of the tower and into the gray morning.

  "I go with you today," he said.

  "But Ashiin said-"

  "Today, you will learn from us both."

  "Oh, this can't be good."

  He summoned the bridge and they crossed into the woods. Mist still curled around their ankles as they walked, and the remnants of last night's rain dripped from the boughs. Hweilan watched every shadow, and her ears strained at every sound. Most days she walked to the woods Ashiin haunted, but on several occasions her teacher had ambushed her. It had been a while since that last happened, which made Hweilan think she was due for another.

  Less than half a mile from Gleed's lake, the woods thinned around a scattering of lichen-covered boulders. They were taller than they were wide, and set deeply into the soil. Mostly featureless, there were still enough irregular curves and grooves to them that Hweilan suspected they might have once been sculptures. It was there that she usually followed the slope upward to the drier woods. But Gleed kept going straight ahead, keeping the heights to their right.

  "Where are we going?" she asked him.

  Gleed talked
while they walked. "You remember when we spoke of the skin between worlds?"

  Hweilan did. One of Gleed's lessons from many days ago. He'd told her that Toril and the Feywild were not the only worlds. There were many-some almost mirror-images of this one, with only the slightest variations. Some so different that the very air was poison, the light fire. And the barriers between them-Gleed used the word dehwek, meaning "skin"-ran thin in some places.

  But the concept… it was not unlike what the shade of her father had said that day on the height. Thin is the veil that separates us, and it can be lifted.

  "Portals you mean?" she'd asked.

  Gleed had merely shrugged. He had his Lore, and when the names by which she knew things differed from his own, he simply ignored them.

  "All things have their own song," he'd continued, explaining that every creature had its own rhythm-a unique voice, a heartbeat, breath. So it was with the worlds. Each sang to its own rhythm, and if one could learn their songs, one could pierce the "skin between worlds." But it was a very delicate matter, taking intense concentration and care. Fail at the song, and the skin would remain impenetrable. Make an error, and one could fall into the wrong world-and never live long enough to realize one's mistake.

  "You remember the songs I taught you?" Gleed asked, pulling Hweilan from her reverie.

  "I do."

  "Good. You're going to need them."

  They walked most of the morning, coming to the stream where Gleed had first found Hweilan. They followed it until it spread out the width of a tourney field and fell over the lip of a cliff.

  Ashiin was waiting for them there, crouched in the shadows of an ancient willow whose branches played in the river. She looked at the little goblin through narrow eyes, her face otherwise expressionless. "Gleed," she said.

  "Ashiin." He did not bow-in fact lowered his staff and stood ramrod straight.

  Hweilan eyed them both warily.

  "She is ready?" said Ashiin.

  "She can open the way," said Gleed. "For after…" He motioned to her.

  "For that," said Ashiin, "she is ready."

  Ashiin stood, her staff in one hand. Hweilan had once asked her about the skull on its top, and the tails and scalps dangling from its length-asked what they signified. Others who have displeased me, Ashiin had said. Ashiin reached behind her back with her free hand, and when she stepped into the sunlight, she brought her hand back around, and something flashed there. Hweilan immediately stepped back, ready to put up her guard.

  Ashiin smiled and flipped the thing in her hand, causing the sunlight to ripple silver and gold along it. She caught it and held it out. "Recognize this?"

  Hweilan did. The single-edged blade was as long as her forearm, the silver steel etched in curving designs that suggested eddying currents. It was the knife Menduarthis had given her.

  "That's mine," she said.

  "Was yours," said Ashiin. "A warrior who loses her weapon has no more claim to it-unless she can take it back."

  Hweilan frowned. Not so much because the thing was precious to her. It was one of the loveliest knives she'd ever seen-and she'd grown up among dwarf craftsmen. But the fact that someone had taken it from her and was taunting her with it raised her hackles. Still… she knew she was no match for Ashiin. Not yet.

  Ashiin smiled. "Look before you leap. Consider before you strike. Like the fox. A wise choice. Do well today, and the knife will be yours again."

  Suspicious, Hweilan scowled. "You'll give it back?"

  "Give? No. You're going to earn it."

  The waterfall almost seemed to whisper, and even though it fell a good twenty feet or more, it scarcely caused a ripple in the pool into which it fell. The pool itself reflected the gray sky and surrounding trees before its far edge shattered into three streams that wound their way through a swampy lowland. As she and her teachers climbed down the slick rocks next to the waterfall, Hweilan could hear it. Something about this place…

  Beat to its own rhythm… sang its own song… Gleed would have said, and she wouldn't have disagreed with him. She couldn't quite bring herself to think of it as sacred, not quite, but there was very definitely something… other in every sound, every scent, and the way the light rippled over the water. It was altogether different from the faith of Torm in which she'd been raised. But she'd also been raised by Scith, who, even though he honored and respected the faith of Vandalar and his family, was devoted mostly to Aumaunator, Keeper of the Sun. Moreover, being a master hunter and tracker, Scith had also given Silvanus great respect, and taught Hweilan of the Balance and the sacredness of all living things. What she was sensing… seemed much closer to that, and she took some comfort in the familiarity.

  Once they reached the bottom, Gleed led them along a narrow path to the fall itself, where in one place-the only place as near as Hweilan could see-a notch of rock thrust out, causing the curtain of water to spray out in a perfect fan shape, about twice Hweilan's height but no more than a pace or two wide.

  Gleed unshouldered the bundle, reached inside and produced a wide, flat drum. It was no more than a couple of inches deep and had a skin only along one side. The back was a webbing of taut cords, both binding the skin and serving as a handle. Sacred symbols had been burned all around the wooden rim and painted on the skin itself.

  "You know the song," said Gleed, and handed the drum to Hweilan.

  She took it. She'd done this several times-but in Gleed's chambers or sitting by the lakeshore in front of his tower. Never like this. Never for real.

  She stepped toward the veil of water and beheld her own reflection. Just beyond it, only black rock. She curled her left hand into a fist, then extended her thumb and smallest finger as Gleed had taught her. Holding the webbing of the drum in the other hand, she began a rhythmic beat, first in time with her own heart, then varying as she found the rhythm of the fall. Once she had it, she began the chant.

  Midmorning though it was, the sun had not yet peeked through the high curtain of cloud. But as her words found the inherent power in the veil before her, she began to see light rippling in the water-tiny threads of silver shooting up like minuscule arrows, and threads of gold and crimson sparking as they wound back and forth. Hweilan didn't allow her eye to catch on them; she looked beyond-and realized she could no longer see the black, dripping stone behind the water. No stone at all. She saw something she knew could not be coming from this side of the water-sunlight.

  She gave the drum a final hard slap with her thumb and shouted the final word of the song. The veil of water responded with a flash of green light.

  "Well done," said Gleed. He took the drum from her.

  Hweilan turned to Ashiin and gave the silver knife a pointed look.

  Ashiin smiled. "Oh, you aren't getting it that easy. Come."

  She stepped through the veil of water, and Hweilan followed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Warmth rushed over her like a wave. She had never in her life felt the very air she breathed so wonderfully warm and dry. Hweilan had grown up in Narfell, where in winter exposed skin would freeze in moments and the snows only melted in high summer. This was the complete opposite of that in every way. The air held no moisture at all. It was like being in a kitchen where the ovens had been stoked for days. The water from the fall dampening her skin evaporated at once, and she actually felt the pores in her scalp loosen and expand. Unused to such warmth, her body broke out in immediate sweat.

  Scent hit her with such force that she actually stumbled back a step. Not because it was foul, but simply because it was so alien to anything she had ever experienced. The smell of dust and rock baked under the sun. Mixing through it all were the scents of plants who survived in a land that obviously went months at a time without rain.

  The land around her was not desert, but close to it. The soil was sandy, and from it sprouted a scrublike grass the color of straw. It grew in clumps. Here and there were twisted bushes, their tiny leaves rattling in the slight breeze. And the�
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  She had no words for them. They weren't mountains, though she could see a range of mountains along the near horizon. Most of the land before her seemed to be a rolling landscape broken by dry gullies, and amongst them were towers of rock that rose hundreds of feet in the air, their tops flat as watchtowers. Behind her, she saw that another one rose at their back, its side so sheer and its top so far away that she could not see how high it was.

  "Where are we?" said Hweilan.

  "Far, far away from your Highwatch," said Ashiin, "so don't harbor any unwise ideas."

  Hweilan tore her eyes away from the height and looked at Ashiin. "You think I'd try to run?"

  "You wouldn't be the first."

  "I swore an oath. To Nendawen himself. I-"

  "Do not!" Ashiin advanced on her, but Hweilan held her ground. The two women stared into each other's eyes, standing only inches apart. "Do not speak the Master's name lightly."

  "Do not treat my word so lightly."

  Ashiin took one quick step back and brought her fist around, the pommel of the silver dagger aimed for Hweilan's face.

  But Hweilan was ready for it-had in fact been expecting it. She ducked under the blow, stepping back as she did so, hoping to get out of Ashiin's reach. But the staff was already coming around for her midsection. Too high to leap and too low for her to duck under in time. Instinct took over, and Hweilan caught the staff, absorbing the brunt of the blow with an open palm, using the momentum to tighten her grip.

  Pain shot up her arm, but Hweilan forced her grip to hold. Ashiin yanked, pulling Hweilan toward her fist. But again, Hweilan had been expecting this, and she rolled under the blow, planting her shoulder in Ashiin's chest and using the force of the woman's pull against her.

  They both went down. Hweilan had not forgotten that Ashiin still held the knife, so as soon as they hit the ground, she released the staff and rolled away. She came up in a crouch. Dry soil crumbled under her hands.

  The staff was already coming for her-straight down, so hard and fast that Hweilan heard it cutting the air. Hweilan twisted aside, pivoting on her hands as she did so. The staff grazed her shoulder, then slammed into the ground. But Hweilan kept the pivot moving, and brought the toe of her boot around, aiming for Ashiin's side.