The Bloodfire Quest

by Terry Brooks

  The last of the procession, the final ranks of the army, cleared the gates, which immediately began to swing shut behind them. A shrieking of metal hinges, a crashing of ironbound portals slamming into place, and Kraal Reach was sealed once more.

  Overhead, scores of Harpies appeared, crooked black carrion creatures flooding the skies, trailing after the army. The shape-shifter and the Ulk Bog held their places within the rocks as the half birds, half women passed, patient and watchful. When the Harpies had gone, Oriantha waited awhile longer. There was no urgency. It would be easy to keep pace with an army the size of this one.

  She let it get almost a mile ahead before saying to her companion, “Now we track them.”

  Tesla Dart groaned in dismay but got to her feet anyway. Together they set out, following the clouds of dust raised by the army’s passing.

  “Wait!” Tesla said suddenly, hunching forward and casting about. “Can use Chzyks to track! Chzyks be anywhere, and no one sees them. Come back to tell us everything they learn. Better than us getting too close.”

  “You can summon them?”

  “Always.”

  “Then do so tonight and let’s have them take a close look at that cage and the guards watching over it. Can you get them to do that?”

  “Always, with Lada. I call, he is here. Very smart. Do whatever I ask of him.” She glared at Oriantha. “Why? Do you think me stupid, Halfling? I say so, it be so!”

  “All right. Calm down. I was just asking. It would help us to know how closely they watch Redden.”

  Tesla snorted. “Close so that if you can see him, they can see you. That close. This is a foolish chance. All yours to take. But not me.”

  Oriantha believed she could live with that. She had never expected Tesla Dart to do more than provide information and guidance. But if she used her Chzyks, she would be able to offer firsthand information regarding the location of the cage and guard arrangements. That would be enough.

  So bold, she thought. I am so bold, and I have no reason to be so. Mother would hate it.

  But her mother was gone, and with her most of what Oriantha had thought would become her new life.

  “Halfling!” the Ulk Bog snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the ground, then falling on top of her to keep her pinned.

  “What are you—” she began.

  “Don’t move!” the other hissed, and motioned skyward. “Look!”

  A dragon was rising out of Kraal Reach—a huge burnt-red monster that was at least as big as, if not bigger than, the one Oriantha had ridden with Crace Coram in what now seemed another lifetime. The beast shrieked and swung north after the departing army, winging hard to catch up.

  Astride the dragon’s long neck rode a solitary black-cloaked figure.

  The shape-shifter girl knew at a glance that it was Tael Riverine.

  30

  Aphenglow stared at the empty clearing in shock and then started to rush forward. “Cymrian! Where is she?”

  He caught her arm. “Wait. There will be signs to tell us. Let me have a look.”

  He released her and moved slowly toward the place where they had left Arlingfant, stepping carefully, crouching often to study the ground, searching for indications of what had happened. He reached the flattened grasses and bloodied earth where she had lain and paused. Then he began to move slowly about the spot, one cautious step at a time. Aphen waited impatiently, desperate to find her sister, frantic for her safety. Arling could not have gone off by herself. She wasn’t strong enough for that. So someone—or something—had taken her.

  She had a momentary vision of those mutants, and a shiver went up her back like a blade’s razor edge. “Have you found anything?”

  He held up his hand in a gesture that asked her to hold on and continued his search. He was moving away from where Arling had been lying, heading across the clearing, apparently having found something. He was moving steadily now, still reading the signs but not pausing as often as before to consider what he was seeing.

  Finally, he straightened and beckoned her over. She rushed to his side. “She was found and carried away by two people, a man and perhaps a woman. Both wore boots that are old and worn. Their tracks show they are not young, but not physically impaired, either. They were strong enough to pick up Arling and carry her off. They came in from this way”—he pointed ahead of them—“and left pretty much the same way.”

  “Why would they do this? Why would they take her?”

  “Hard to answer that without knowing who they are. Come on. We can track them.”

  They set out, Cymrian reading the signs as they went. Because the ground was thick with grasses and brush, footprints were indistinct and passage was hard to determine. Aphen could make out nothing at all, and if not for the Elven Hunter she would have been lost. But Cymrian seemed able to find what he was looking for, and so they made their way forward.

  Nevertheless, Cymrian was badly weakened from his battle with the mutants and the assassin, and his strength was limited. He could not go quickly even if he wanted to, and Aphen had to fight down her impatience to go charging ahead. She could not stand the thought that something bad might have happened to Arling—that it might be happening even now. Speed was imperative.

  But there was no help for it. They could only go as fast as Cymrian’s constitution and his interpretation of the trail would allow.

  It began to rain, a squall appearing out of nowhere, the gloom and mist of Drey Wood deepening. Water sheeted down and quickly layered everything, the whole of the forest taking on a shimmery, reflective look. The dampness increased and pools of water began to cover the ground. Soon, Aphen knew, any traces of footprints or similar signs would disappear into the murk and damp and they would lose the trail completely.

  Finally, they broke through the screen of tree trunks and found a narrow trail that wound through the murk. The path was barely wide enough for two people walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and yet when they bent to study the rutted earth, they found the imprint of wagon wheels.

  Aphen was flushed and angry. “What would anyone be doing with a wagon this far into the woods?” Cymrian shook his head. “Hunters, foragers, tramps, Rovers, travelers—take your choice. And a cart made these tracks, not a wagon. A mule pulled it. The signs are clear enough. But …”

  He didn’t finish, kneeling now, bending even closer to study the wheel marks and hoofprints. Aphen realized the problem. The trail did not end where they stood. It ran both east and west. The hoofprints and wheel marks did the same. Because of the rain and prior usage, it was difficult to tell in which direction the wagon had gone this time.

  “What do we do?” she said.

  He looked up. “We make an educated guess. They carried Arling to the cart and put her in the bed, and now they are taking her somewhere. Either deeper into the woods west, or back out onto the Streleheim east.”

  He stood up. “If they live in these woods, if they have a cabin or a hut, they might live deeper in. If they live elsewhere, they would have gone back out onto the plains. It’s too far to the western edge of the woods for this trail to go all the way through. It dead-ends somewhere farther on, but we can’t know for sure how far that might be.” He glanced west. “There’s not much to sustain anyone living in these woods. I think they went back out to the east.”

  They set off at once, Aphen unwilling to waste even one more second debating. She thought repeatedly about using the Elfstones, but worried that the magic would give them away. Better to wait until calling up the magic became the only alternative. She thought Cymrian was right about what had happened to Arling in any case, and he was the one best able to read the signs.

  She considered leaving him behind and going on ahead, moving fast enough that she could catch the wagon and its occupants before they got out onto the plains and disappeared. But if they turned off the trail at any point, would she know? She couldn’t read the signs the way Cymrian could, and if she lost her way without him she might lose h
im, as well. So as difficult as it was to restrain herself, she slowed her pace to stay with him and trust that their progress was sufficient.

  Who would have taken her sister like this?

  Someone who was trying to get to her.

  She gritted her teeth, furious at herself for falling asleep after helping Cymrian when she should have stayed awake and gone back for her sister. She hadn’t meant for that to happen, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She had left Arling alone, and what was happening now was the consequence of her foolishness.

  The rain was increasing, turning from a squall into a full-blown thunderstorm. Overhead, the skies were roiling and black. Lightning streaked the darkness in brilliant flashes and thunder boomed out in long, deep peals.

  Resolutely, she pressed on.

  Irritable, Sora tried to ignore Aquinel’s constant complaining, but in the end found it impossible.

  “Will you stop talking about it, woman? The matter’s decided. Let it be!”

  “I just don’t feel right about it,” she replied. “In my bones. Don’t you sense it? We don’t know anything about these people.”

  She was small and stocky, tough as nails and hard to move once she set her mind. Right now he wished she would stop harping on the girl and what he had decided to do with her. Why couldn’t she see it was an opportunity for them and a chance at life for her?

  “We aren’t equipped to care for injuries of the sort she’s suffered,” he insisted. “Did you not see the damage to her body? You were there when I opened her clothing and took a look. You saw the puncture wounds and bruising. She was hurt badly enough in that crash that it’s a miracle she’s still breathing!”

  Aquinel nodded and didn’t look at him. “That’s not the problem and you know it.”

  “No, you’re the problem. That’s clear enough. You keep looking to find what’s wrong instead of focusing on what’s right! Woman, I swear you will be the death of me.”

  “You’ll be the death of yourself long before I have any impact on your stubborn nature.” She stopped and turned to face him, bringing the mule and the cart they were leading to a halt. “I know what you’re about. You’re thinking of what this can mean for you, not about the girl.”

  “Am I? Is that how you see it?”

  “I see it clear enough. You want a reward for returning her. Or at least for giving her over and washing your hands of her. You think these people will give you coin for this. But you don’t know that. You don’t even know who they are or what they’re doing here.”

  He sighed. Looking down the trail to where it bent toward their destination, he took a moment to brush the unkempt black hair from his eyes. “I know that this is fate working her hand in our favor, and when she does that you don’t stop to question the why of it. Didn’t I see the ship when she came down? Didn’t I remember it when we set out with the girl?”

  He started off again, pulling on the mule’s halter, forcing Aquinel to stick with him. She was a good woman and a sturdy helpmeet, but she spent too much time questioning his decisions. It wasn’t as if she knew more than he did and was better able to reason things out. It wasn’t her place to guide the family. That was a man’s work.

  “We have to think about ourselves,” he added sullenly.

  They traipsed on through the damp and the murk, winding down the lane through broad-leaf trees that canopied overhead, ignoring the steady rainfall and the attendant chill, lost in their separate thoughts. Sora found himself wondering what she would say if she knew about the other—about what he had done when she wasn’t looking. He wondered how he would break it to her.

  Probably, he thought, he wouldn’t. He would keep it a secret. Best that way. He would find a buyer and make some coin, and they would have a few good things for themselves that he could explain away. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done this sort of thing before. It wasn’t as if this was the first time that he found a little something knocking around that she didn’t need to know about.

  “We should have waited longer,” she said for what must have been the tenth time. “We should have been more patient.”

  He shook his head. “She was injured and alone. We had no way of knowing who was with her or when they were coming back. If they were coming back at all. We had no time to go searching for them. We did what we had to do. We are doing what we have to do right now. What you asked for, remember? Find a way, you said. So I did. Now stop talking about it!”

  She set her jaw. “I’ll stop talking about it, but I won’t stop thinking about it. I can promise you that!”

  “Fine. I’ll settle for that much.”

  The trail had broadened, and the woods had opened a bit. Ahead, Sora could make out the hull of the airship through the gloom and mist. She was a big one, probably some sort of warship. He slowed automatically, Aquinel with him. For a few moments, he reconsidered what he was about to do. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he should just take the girl to the nearest village and leave her there. Forget any reward for his trouble. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already found a way to get paid for this mess.

  But greed won out over reason, and he abruptly pushed forward, clucking at the mule, pulling it and the wagon and the girl who lay in the wagon bed forward.

  Already men from the airship had appeared on the decks and were watching them approach. One waved in greeting, and started down the ladder to meet them.

  “Remember,” he said to Aquinel, “we’re simple foragers. We gather mushrooms and sell them to the surrounding villages. We come here all the time. Today, we were on our way to our grounds and we saw this girl lying in a clearing. She was injured and alone, apparently abandoned. We don’t have the means or ability to look after her. But we are responsible people and we want to see her safe and well cared for. We saw their ship, and we thought perhaps they could help. Thought they might even be friends of hers.”

  “I still think this is a mistake,” Aquinel said softly.

  He glared at her. “Hush, woman!”

  “Hush, yourself.”

  The rains were beginning to diminish and the woods ahead to thin out and open up. The trail was muddied and the tracks they had been following virtually erased, but that no longer mattered to either of them. Aphen and Cymrian were still running as fast as the latter could manage, ignoring personal discomfort and fighting off weariness. Cymrian had assured Aphen that they were close to catching up to the cart and its mule and drivers, the last of the visible signs indicating they were just a short distance off.

  But they were shocked nevertheless when all three appeared abruptly from out of the mists ahead, not fleeing but approaching them—a big man and a short woman, both stocky and plainly dressed, a mule walking with its head down, hauling a cart in trudging acceptance of its lot, no sense of hurry or concern about any of them.

  They slowed as the man and woman saw them and drew to an uncertain halt. If anything, the pair seemed frightened of them, and Aphen, sensing this, gave a friendly wave of reassurance. The woman returned it. The man stood motionless, watching.

  “Easy, now,” Cymrian told her.

  Aphen nodded, at the same time sizing up the couple in front of them. Foragers or farmers, not Rovers or town people, she decided. They’d lived hard lives and had little to show for it, but their bluff faces did not suggest they were either bad-intentioned or dangerous.

  “Have you seen a girl?” she asked at once. “Small, young. We left her lying on the ground in the woods more than a mile back. She was injured, and we—”

  Before she could finish, the woman wheeled on the man and struck him as hard as she could. “I told you we should have waited! Look what you’ve done!”

  The man seized her by the arms to keep her from hitting him again. “Aquinel, stop it! We don’t know anything yet.”

  “You have the girl?” Aphen asked at once, unable to contain herself any longer. “She’s my sister. Her name is Arling. Is she in your cart? Is she all right?”

 
; The man and woman exchanged a quick look. She could tell immediately by the looks on their faces that something was wrong. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  The woman shook her head. “We didn’t know you were coming for her. We thought she had been abandoned. Her clothes and all the blood, you see. So we took her with us to keep her safe. But then we saw the airship, and we thought …”

  “They said they were friends, that they could take her with them, make sure she got the help she needed,” the man said, cutting her off.

  “We didn’t know!” Aquinel wailed, and began to cry.

  Aphen stared. “Are you saying you gave my sister to some men flying an airship? What did the airship look like? What flag did she fly?”

  “She was a warship, I guess,” the man answered, not looking at her, trying to find a way to comfort the woman, who was having none of it. “She was a Federation ship, I think.”

  Aphen went pale. Shades. The ones who were hunting us.

  She didn’t need to speak the words. Cymrian would be thinking the same thing. Arling had been given over to their enemies, to the ones who had brought the assassin and the mutants.

  “Have they lifted off yet?” Cymrian asked, moving a step closer. “Have they left?”

  The man shrugged. “They were still on the ground when we started back. That was maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

  The Elven Hunter took Aphen’s arm and pulled her ahead. “Quickly, now. Maybe we can still reach her in time.”

  They charged past the man and the woman and went down the trail in a rush. They did not look back.

  Sora and Aquinel started walking again, neither looking at the other. The rains had diminished to a few scattered drops, and the windblown mists had begun to re-form and thicken once more.

  “Elves,” Sora said after a time. “Dangerous look to them, too. Did you see their clothes? All torn up and bloodied. The man was hurt. You could tell by the way he was holding himself.”