Chapter 34
“Get me a boat!” Lowellin ordered. “Your king wants to go on shore.” With so many of the Ankharan sailors dead, it took some time to get a longboat lowered over the side. Two soldiers got in to row, followed by Fen and his squad, who were now wearing leather armor, half helms, and carrying swords. As the soldiers rowed them to shore, Lowellin looked around.
The new ship that was listing had taken on so much water that its decks were awash. It was clear it would sink soon. It was complete chaos on the ship as the desperate survivors fought to lower the lifeboats and then fought to get aboard them. One of the boats’ tackle was snarled and soldiers were hacking at its lines to free it. Once free, it fell on top of several of them. Another one launched well enough, but so many people tried to climb into it that it promptly capsized. The other new ship wasn’t faring much better. Only the black ship seemed calm and orderly.
“Not a great beginning to our glorious conquest, is it?” Lowellin said. He glanced up at the castle on top of the cliff. “They’re probably laughing at us right now.” He shrugged and turned back to face the shore. A boat carrying the Ichthalids had already beached, and the invaders were getting out. Fen noticed that Ilsith was nowhere to be seen.
Once their boat had landed, Lowellin strode over to the Ichthalids, who were talking amongst themselves. Wanting to hear what was said, Fen trailed along, being careful to stay back so as not to draw attention. When Lowellin reached them, S’nash turned on him.
“Do you know where Ilsith is?”
“I didn’t realize you had misplaced him. Have you checked the shadows?”
S’nash grabbed the front of Lowellin’s shirt and lifted him up onto his toes. “I am not in the mood for your foolishness.”
Lowellin patted S’nash’s hand. “I’m being serious. When Ilsith is not to be found, he is somewhere in the shadows. Unfortunately for you, that means he could be anywhere. Wouldn’t he most likely be chasing the girl? She has the final piece of your precious key, you know.”
S’nash let him go with a growl. “I know that, you idiot. He should have returned with it by now.”
“Hmm. Good point. Maybe he’s simply waiting for the right time.”
“She is unconscious and helpless. What better time could there be?”
“Another good point,” Lowellin said, scratching his head. “I guess we’ll have to wait for him to return and ask him then.”
“Find him.”
“You think I can find him because we spent so much time together? Is that what you think? I’m afraid I’ll be no help to you there. Ilsith kept to himself during our years together. I didn’t even know he could talk until you showed up. I simply thought he was a wooden staff with some unique abilities.”
“Not even you could be that stupid.”
“I do feel foolish, now that I think about it. Next time I will be more suspicious of my allies.”
“If you have nothing to say, then say nothing.”
“But I do have something to say. I can’t give you Ilsith, but how about some horses?”
“Horses?”
“Big four-legged creatures? People use them to get around?”
“Why?”
“Why do they ride them?” Lowellin asked. S’nash glared at him. “Oh, that’s not what you meant. You meant why do you need them. It’s simple. We can use them to chase her. Don’t they have horses where you come from?”
“They would be eaten where I come from.”
“They won’t take you very far if you eat them.”
“Stop talking. Procure horses for us. If you are capable of such a difficult task.” S’nash turned away.
Lowellin gave him a deep, mocking bow, then turned to Fen. “You heard him. Fetch us some horses.”
When Fen and his squad returned with horses, he saw that most of the army had made it ashore. The sinking ship rested on the bottom, only part of it still visible above the water. The officers were yelling, mustering the soldiers into formation. A young man, barely into his thirties, but with the rank of general, came up to Lowellin, saluted, and said, “Orders, sire?”
Lowellin looked at him without understanding. “Orders?”
The young general looked uncertain how to proceed. “Your army, sire. What do you want us to do?”
“Stay out of the way.”
Now the young general looked even more uncertain. “Sire?” he managed. “Can you…?” He scratched his neck. “A bit more detail maybe?”
Lowellin nodded. “I suppose you should have something to do.” He pointed at Qarath. “See that city? Besiege it.”
The general saluted. “Very well, sire. But, sire?”
Aggravated, Lowellin turned back to him. “Yes, what is it?”
“We won’t be able to breach those walls without siege engines. Shall I put men to work building them?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never besieged anyone before. I guess so. No, forget that. Just keep them bottled up. Above all, don’t let the king get away. I have something I want to take up with him. When I get back, I’ll open the walls for you. Is that good? Do you have enough orders now?”
“We’ll make do, sire.” The young general saluted and hurried off to speak with his officers.
Fen watched him go. He knew the man. Kemp wasn’t a bad officer. In fact, he was pretty competent. But until a few days ago he was only a major, and now he was in command of an entire army. He looked a little overwhelmed by the responsibility.
The Ichthalids were mounting their horses. Or trying to. The animals were frightened of the Ichthalids, and Thresh’s horse reared up when he was trying to get on, nearly knocking him down.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if the horses went ahead and kicked a couple of them to death for us?” Cowley observed in a low voice to Fen.
Chapter 35
Rome heard the footsteps before the pounding started at his door. He’d slept poorly, bothered by the storm clouds on the horizon and what they might portend. He sat upright, instantly awake. Beside him, Bonnie stirred sleepily.
“Ships!” the man at the door cried. “They’re here!”
It didn’t take long for Rome to dress. He’d prepared for this, and what he needed was draped over a stand by the bed. He pulled on a thick, wool gambeson, then chain mail and a tabard embroidered with the black wolf shield. Trousers and steel-shod boots came next. Leaning against the stand was a harness with his battleaxe. Bonnie was up by then, her face pale. She helped him buckle on the harness.
“Be safe,” she implored him. He gave her a quick hug and ran out the door. Rather than head downstairs, he went the opposite direction, making for Quyloc’s quarters. It wasn’t to awaken Quyloc—he wouldn’t be surprised if his old friend had been the one to send the man to wake him—but to get a look at what was going on. Quyloc’s quarters overlooked the sea. He’d get a good view from there.
Quyloc’s door was open. He was out on the balcony, looking down. Rome saw a flash of green light, then a flicker of purple. He stopped beside Quyloc and got his first look at the enemy ships.
“She appears to be holding her own,” Quyloc observed. He sounded calm, almost detached.
Rome saw the water around Aislin boil with bizarre creatures, saw her scything through them with raw Seaforce. “Has she hurt them?” he asked.
“Their ships took some damage. The Devourers themselves seem fine.” Quyloc pointed at the three hulking figures standing on the foredeck of the black ship.
“What’s your assessment so far?”
Quyloc’s expression was grim. “She’s going to lose. She is already tiring.”
Rome gripped the railing tightly. “There must be something we can do.”
Quyloc shook his head. “I don’t think there is.”
“Maybe she’ll get lucky, land a blow they’re not expecting.”
“So far they’ve handled everything she does. I’d say they were prepared. They knew ahead of time what she was capable of.”
&nb
sp; “You think they’ve been spying on her?”
“With Ilsith, Lowellin can travel anywhere. It makes sense.”
Rome swore. “We’re not going to stand up here and watch. We’re going down there. We’ll take whatever men have managed to assemble.” He’d left orders that the soldiers quartered in the castle were to be mustered the moment the Devourers’ ships were seen, with runners sent to the other barracks around the city. While dressing he’d heard the horns sound, rousting the soldiers. He ran from the room.
╬ ╬ ╬
Knowing that there would be some delay before Rome and the soldiers actually rode out, Quyloc stayed to watch the battle for a little longer. He was still watching when Aislin fell. His mouth tightened. He snatched up his spear and ran after Rome.
He caught up to him outside. Rome was already mounted, shouting orders to his soldiers. A soldier was waiting with Quyloc’s horse. He mounted up and rode over to Rome.
“Aislin fell,” he told the macht.
Rome swore. “Is she still alive?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think so.”
“What about Randel? Is he still alive?”
“He is. Treylen too. I saw him running for his horse.”
Rome breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s hope he can get her into the city safely.”
Quyloc didn’t respond, though he was thinking that it wouldn’t do any good. City walls wouldn’t hold against the kind of power he’d seen displayed.
Soon the two were galloping through the gates of the castle, followed by a score of mounted soldiers. Behind them streamed ranks of foot soldiers, many still buckling on armor and weapons, clamping helmets down onto their heads.
As they made their way down the boulevard that led to the city gates, Quyloc had a sudden intuition of danger. He’d experienced such intuitions his entire life, and he’d learned not to ignore them. He slowed his horse, calling to Rome to do the same, and looked around, trying to figure out where the danger was.
“What is it, Quyloc?” Rome asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
Rome didn’t press him but instead began scanning the area. He’d learned to trust Quyloc’s intuitions too.
Up ahead to his left, Quyloc saw a hunched, shadowy figure appear on top of a flat-roofed, one-story building. The figure held out his hands, palms down.
“Up there!” Quyloc cried, as what looked like thick oil began spilling from the figure’s hands. Purple sparks danced over the surface of the oil as it flowed swiftly down the wall and spread across the street in front of the soldiers. The horses pranced and reared, frightened by the strange, oily substance, which had begun bubbling ominously. The mounted soldiers behind them milled about, most struggling to get their frantic horses under control.
Rome turned to a soldier on his left, a muscular, compact man who’d already gotten his horse under control and was stringing his bow with sure, practiced movements. “Put an arrow in him, Nicandro.”
Nicandro stretched his bow and loosed an arrow in the same motion. The arrow flew true—
The shadows shifted, and the figure was gone before the arrow got there.
Then there was no more time to spare as one of the mounted soldiers yelled, “What in all the names of Gorim are those things?” and pointed with his sword.
From the oily liquid scores of creatures were rising, misshapen things the size of large dogs, but thick-bodied and with two extra legs, mouths gaping with too many teeth. Their eyes gleamed with purple fire. In moments they were whole as the oily liquid was drawn up into them, fleshing them out.
Growls and yips arose from them as they launched themselves at the mounted soldiers.
The lead one leapt at Quyloc. His spear met it midair, stabbing it in the chest. It snapped and bit at the spear as it died. Once dead, its body lost form and splashed to the street, once again oily fluid.
Rome’s axe took the next one out of the air, cutting it in half. It dissolved into nothingness before the pieces struck the ground.
Then the eldritch creatures were in among them, teeth tearing into the horses’ flanks and the arms and legs of the soldiers. A soldier behind Quyloc was too slow with his blade, and the creature dodged his swing. It clamped onto his forearm and dragged him from his saddle. Other creatures swarmed over him in an instant. He screamed once before they tore him to pieces.
The fighting dissolved into chaos as men swung and stabbed wildly at the creatures. More than one soldier was wounded by his comrade’s blade as the men flailed about, trying desperately to keep the nightmarish things off them. Two more soldiers were dragged from their saddles. A horse went down with a slashed hamstring, then another, their riders swarmed over instantly.
Quyloc stabbed one, the blade of the spear tearing out its throat. Another leapt at him from the other side. He spun his spear, stabbing it in the face. Right behind it was another, too close for him to use the spear again. He dropped the spear and got his hands around its throat. A jolt of pain went through him as he touched its greasy, hairless skin. Its momentum was such that he came near to losing his balance and toppling over backwards. Its slavering jaws snapped at the air a hairsbreadth from his face. The teeth were longer than his fingers and tilted crazily in all directions.
He managed to get one hand free—the thing was clawing at his arm with its forelegs, scoring his flesh, trying madly to get at him—and ripped his dagger free. He slashed its throat once, then again. It went limp, and a moment later dissolved back into liquid.
Taking advantage of a moment of calm around him, he leaned down from the saddle and managed to snatch up his dropped spear. Another of the creatures lunged for his horse’s haunch, and he stabbed it in the ribs, then brought the spear back up, looking for his next attacker.
As he turned, looking for Rome in the melee, he saw a knot of gathering shadows behind his old friend’s shoulder and reacted instantly.
He flung the spear before the shadowy figure had fully materialized. There was a brief glimpse of an alien countenance and bared teeth, a hand that ended in what looked like a snake’s fang, glistening with purple venom—and then the spear buried itself in the shadowy figure’s chest. He staggered backward as Quyloc yelled a warning to Rome. Rome turned and swung in the same motion.
The shadows seethed, and the figure disappeared the merest instant before Rome’s axe blade cut through where he had been.
After that, all that was left was mopping up. More mounted soldiers had come up during the brief, fierce battle and with their help the rest of the creatures were cut down one by one, dissolving as they died and leaving puddles of oily fluid behind.
“What were those things?” Rome said to Quyloc, wiping the blade of his axe on his trouser leg.
“The power of the Abyss brought to life is my best guess,” Quyloc said.
“And the shadowy figure?”
“I think that was Ilsith.”
“Wasn’t that the name of Lowellin’s staff? How sure are you?”
“What else do we know of that can move through shadows like that? And we know Ilsith can change shape.”
“Which means Lowellin is around here somewhere,” Rome said, looking around.
“Maybe, maybe not. Something else I noticed. I’m not sure, but I think Ilsith looked similar to the three figures on the deck of the black ship.”
“Meaning that was one of the Devourers.”
“Probably.”
“I hope you killed him. Once less enemy to plan for.”
“I hope so too, but I have a feeling the Devourers are a lot harder to kill than that.”
“Of course you’d say that.” Rome turned to some soldiers nearby. “You two, stay here and help the wounded. You, get up to the Tenders and get a healer down here. The rest of you follow me.”
Once again, they galloped for the gates. The city walls were thick with soldiers. A number of squads of foot soldiers were formed up in the square inside the gates awaiting orders. The portcullis had been rai
sed in anticipation of a sortie, but the outer gates were still closed and barred.
“Where’s Aislin?” Rome roared as they clattered to a halt. He leapt down off his horse, Quyloc right behind him. “Is she okay?” When no one answered immediately, he swore. “I need answers! Where is the girl?”
From a knot of soldiers by the entrance to the gateway passage a captain came running toward them. He saluted and said, “She hasn’t arrived at the gates yet, Macht.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rome said, turning to Quyloc. “Even if he had to carry her on foot, Randel has had plenty of time to get her here. What’s wrong with him? I thought I made my orders clear.”
He ran for the stairs leading to the top of the wall, Quyloc following. At the top they saw a cluster of soldiers talking excitedly and gesturing.
“What is it?” Rome yelled, running over to the battlements. “What’s going on out there?”
“I…she’s there, Macht,” a soldier said, pointing.
Far out on the road leading away from the city was a horse running at a full gallop. It was hard to tell at this distance, but it looked like the rider was bent over, one arm curled around someone small, someone with blond hair.
“Is he addled?” Rome said. “Why in blazes is Randel taking her away from the city?”
The soldier backed away.
“When I get my hands on him…” Rome growled. He glanced over at the Devourer ships. They had anchored a short distance off shore, and the soldiers on board were being ferried to the beach. The three Devourers were standing on the sand. Those squads of enemy soldiers already on the beach were forming up. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to catch up to him and get her back here before they besiege the city. We’re going to have to attack to buy time.”
Before he could shout the order to issue forth and attack, Quyloc stopped him. “Don’t,” Quyloc said. “He’s doing the right thing.”
Rome shot him a look. “Are you addled too?”
Shadow Hunted Page 31