[Meetings 05] - Steel and Stone

by Ellen Porath - (ebook by Undead)

  "What's with the bird?" Caven muttered. "We're here, aren't we? At the valley? So where's Kitiara?"

  "Can't you feel it?" Tanis interjected. "The charge in the air?" He put a hand to his head and felt his hair cling to his hand. He fought back panic, feeling suddenly as though he were helpless.

  Caven had twisted around in the saddle and was gazing at the half-elf with consternation. Then the Kernan looked up at the owl, who was crying out as he swooped upward. "Whatever it is, it's driven both of you daft," the mercenary said.

  But Tanis wasn't listening. "We're too late!" he cried and pointed past Caven to the peak of the bald mountain to the north. A glittering miasma churned around the mountaintop; it seemed to sap energy from the very ground around them, from their own bodies. Now Caven himself swayed in the saddle, and Tanis had to reach to prop him up. At that moment, the mountain pinnacle seemed to explode. But when the explosion faded and the glitter evaporated, the escarpment was unchanged.

  "It was them," Tanis said with great feeling. "They're gone!"

  "Gone?" Caven demanded. "Half-elf, this is Darken Wood! That flash could have been anything."

  "No," Tanis said stubbornly.

  Minutes later, Xanthar landed atop a barren tree nearby. He kept twisting, facing the mountain, then to the south, then the mountain again. Suddenly the bird opened its beak, displaying a gray, wormlike tongue the size of Tanis's hand. And then Xanthar cried out, his rage and loss and desolation echoing through the valley. Even Caven shuddered.

  After a while, the bird quieted down. Xanthar fastened a stare on the half-elf. Lida carried that same look in her eyes, a riveting stare that sucked the victim in, picked him over, practically stole his thoughts. Caven had to glance away, but Tanis held the giant owl's stern gaze.

  On the ground, the creature dwarfed the half-elf. But from his vantage point atop the spire, even with the two men mounted on the Mithas stallion, the bird still towered over them. Fury emanated from the bird. Then the giant owl blinked, and he was the sardonic Xanthar again.

  We have erred.

  Tanis nodded. Caven did, too, so the half-elf knew the mercenary also had heard the owl's mind-speak.

  They are in the Icereach now.

  "Why the Icereach?" Caven snapped. "Because some stupid dream said so? The Valdane lost the war in Kern; why go nearly a thousand miles south to a place like the Icereach if you want to conquer the world? Assuming, that is, you and the mage are correct in guessing that's what he wants. Why the Icereach, owl?"

  Perhaps there is something there that he values . . . something he seeks.

  "Like what? Snow?"

  The portent mentions jewels.

  Caven was having nothing of the owl's argument. "Jewels in the Icereach? That's a laugh."

  Stranger things have happened, human.

  But the Kernan merely sputtered. "I say we go back to Haven."

  Do what you will, human. You will find it difficult to wend your way out of Darken Wood without the help of a guide.

  Caven glared. "You'd abandon us?"

  You are nothing to me. I am going to the Icereach.

  Tanis finally spoke. "Lida said you couldn't leave Darken Wood."

  A pause. She was wrong.

  Tanis thought for a moment, then slid down from Maleficent. He began to pull his own pack and Kitiara's from the tangle of equipage behind the saddle.

  "Half-elf!" Caven demanded. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm going with Xanthar."

  Caven chortled. "You Qualinesti are more talented than I'd thought. You can fly, too, half-elf?"

  "No, but he can."

  Caven paled. He grasped the pommel of his saddle and leaned toward the half-elf. "You'd ride a giant owl?"

  "If he'll let me." Tanis looked at the bird, who dipped his head in what Tanis took for assent.

  Caven's voice hissed, drawing the half-elf's attention again. "But why? Kitiara isn't worth the risk. There are millions of other women in the world, half-elf. Besides, what guarantee do we have that she is there?"

  Tanis snorted, pawing through his pack. He would have to lighten the load as much as possible. Tanis outweighed Lida. He selected what little food remained in his pack, his bow and quiver, and his sword. Then he picked up Kitiara's pack, thinking.

  Caven's voice broke in. "Why not just give this up? We can find our way out of here together. To the Abyss with the crazy owl and his lady mage. And with Kitiara, too."

  Tanis shook his head. He shoved aside clothing in Kitiara's pack, searching for anything that would aid him in his quest. "I'm not a mercenary like you, Mackid. That's the only explanation I can give you. I don't do things for money but for my own reasons."

  Caven gestured broadly with his arms. "How will the two of you find them? The Icereach is practically a continent away."

  The owl broke in. I will attempt to mind-speak with Lida. I will reach her. She will lead me to them.

  "You lost contact with her in Darken Wood almost immediately," Caven replied irritatedly. "What are you going to do, search the entire Icereach? How much time do you think you have?"

  My relatives have been there. They have described this place. I remember my grandfather's tales when I was a nestling. There is a likely area—a place, I was told, of vast warrens under the ice. Such a place, I believe, would attract a mage. I will search there first. I will find her, human.

  At that moment, Tanis's fingers rubbed against something at the bottom of the swordswoman's pack. Puzzled, the half-elf kneeled, dumped the contents of the pack on the ground, and examined the canvas back. The pack, in the bright light of day, looked deeper from the outside than it was on the inside. "A false bottom," he murmured.

  Caven dismounted, crouching beside the half-elf. Even Xanthar hopped to a nearby perch. Tanis prodded the bottom, searching for a catch. Then he uttered an exclamation and pulled up the stiffened canvas that hid the cache. The three gasped as purple light erupted from the travel-worn pack. Caven stepped back warily, but Tanis thrust his hand into the false bottom. He cradled three ice jewels in his palm as he withdrew his hand.

  "By the gods! What are they?" Caven asked.

  Tanis shook his head, but Xanthar murmured something the half-elf couldn't understand. "What is it?" Tanis asked.

  Ice jewels. My grandfather mentioned them long ago, but he thought they were only legend. They were said to be ice compressed under great weight, until they turned to precious gems.

  "Are they magic?" Tanis asked the giant owl. "There are more in there."

  In the right hands, yes, they must be magic. But they frighten me. Tanis and Caven looked up again, startled. Am I correct in assuming that the swords-woman wasn't the rightful owner of these jewels?

  Caven replied carefully. "After we left Kern, Kitiara said something that made me wonder. I was complaining that all of the Valdane's mercenaries had gone unpaid, and she said, All but one.' But she wouldn't explain further. Later I took that to mean she was planning to rob me. But now I think . . ." He gestured meaningfully at the glowing ice jewels.

  Tanis was still gazing at the ice jewels when Xanthar's voice penetrated his mind. Perhaps we can make use of these stones.

  The half-elf looked up, immediately comprehending the owl's drift. "Ransom?" he asked.

  The bird nodded. Or magic. If we can discover their secret. But I say we bring them along.

  Tanis thrust the jewels back in the pack, replaced the false bottom, and transferred his own things to Kitiara's pack. Then he stood and faced the owl. "I'm ready."

  Caven sighed, rising as well. "As am I."

  I cannot carry you both.

  "I will ride Maleficent."

  We will outdistance you quickly.

  "Leave a trail for me to follow."

  I have many relatives. I could mind-call to them. Perhaps you could ride . . .

  "No!" Caven said, adding hastily, "I'll not leave my horse. Maleficent and I will go day and night if need be. He is a Mithas stallion; he can
endure the strain. And so can I."

  You fear heights, then, human?

  "No!" Caven repeated stubbornly. He mounted Maleficent. "I fear nothing."

  Xanthar hopped to the ground, hunkering down into a squat. The half-elf clambered aboard, pulling Kitiara's pack and his weapons behind him and securing them to the bird with a leather strap that Caven handed over from Maleficent's saddle. Xanthar made a soft, clucking noise. Tanis clamped his legs around Xanthar's body and held tight to the harness and the grip of the bird's wings. He dipped his head behind Xanthar's. Without any further ado, the giant owl sprang into the sky.

  "Wait!" Caven shouted after them. "How will you mark your path?" Even as he spoke, his form shrank beneath them.

  You will know it. Perhaps we will toss down some of these shining jewels for you to follow.

  "Wait!" Caven hollered, a note of desperation making his voice thin. "They're too val—" Then he could no longer be heard.

  The bird spiraled higher until it soared high above the mountain peaks. Tanis bit his lip to take his mind off the sight of the ground spinning slowly below him. Caven and Maleficent gradually faded to inconsequential dots. Vowing not to look straight down, Tanis ventured glances to the side. He gauged the direction by the sun.

  "You're not serious about using the jewels to mark Caven's path, are you?" Tanis shouted at the back of Xanthar's head. The bird didn't reply, but the half-elf felt a quiver ripple through the creature; it might have been a chuckle.

  Far to the west, Tanis saw four small, dark forms rise in the sky. He pointed them out to Xanthar. They are my sons and daughters. They will guide Caven and protect him from the less honorable inhabitants of Darken Wood. Despite his foolhardy bravery, the swordsman deserves help.

  To the northeast, the half-elf could just about imagine that he could see the tops of the towering vallenwoods of Solace. No trees grew taller than those, so tall and strong that the city's residents built homes in the branches and constructed systems of walkways and bridges between them. Someone could journey from one end of Solace to the other without ever touching the ground.

  Somewhere in Solace, Tanis thought with a pang, Flint Fireforge was at home now, probably preparing a pot of stew—Flint was not one for sophisticated cuisine—and looking forward to an evening of conviviality at the Inn of the Last Home. Tanis looked forward to seeing the dwarf again, but it would surely be a long while.

  Xanthar came out of the last climbing curve turning toward the Icereach.

  * * * * *

  Wind buffeted the pair as they flew southward. Tanis lost his grip on the harness. For a dizzying moment, the half-elf felt unseated and imagined himself diving toward the ground. Then his hands found the strap again, and he managed to pull himself upright. The bird kept up the steady motions of long-distance flight.

  Exhaustion and the soothing warmth from Xanthar's feathered body conspired to lull him to sleep, his arms entwined in his makeshift harness. When he awakened, the brassy blue and white skies told him it was early afternoon. He watched the sky turn orange-yellow as afternoon deepened. Finally the horizon grew pink, orange, and red as sunset eased toward twilight. Through it all, Xanthar never flagged. Tanis looked back over his shoulder but saw no sign of Caven Mackid.

  Occasionally the great bird coasted to conserve his strength. When the owl turned his head, the half-elf could see that his eyes were orange slits in his brown-and gray-feathered face. Owls were night creatures, he knew, wondering how Xanthar had fared in the bright light of day.

  For a long time, the giant owl flew as high as possible, but by evening, he had eased lower, and some details revealed themselves to the windblown half-elf clinging to his back. They were passing through the southern boundary of Qualinesti, the half-elf guessed, marveling at the strength and speed of the giant owl. All around them, rising especially steeply to the southeast, were the jagged peaks of the Kharolis Mountains. Xanthar drifted closer to the ground. The highest mountaintops were draped with snow; lower peaks showed crags of lichen-encrusted rock, unbroken by tree or bush until the tree line hundreds of feet below marked the sudden appearance of ground-hugging yews and scrub trees. Below that, starting up almost as abruptly as the tree line had, the real alpine vegetation started—spruce and fir and birch standing out in stark blue and green and white against the mottled gray of the rocky soil.

  The giant owl swooped and glided to a perch atop a knoll. He dipped to one side to help Tanis dismount and then flexed his wings, resembling a feathered Flint easing the kinks out of his shoulders after a hard stint at the forge. Tanis stretched, too.

  "It feels good to be back on the ground," the half-elf commented.

  Xanthar, for once, answered directly, not in mindspeak. "You ride well for a novice, half-elf. Now I must hunt for supper. And then I will rest, too. Although it surely will be strange to sleep during the dark of night. Usually, for me, it is the other way around."

  "Do you think Kitiara and Lida are all right?" Tanis asked suddenly.

  The owl considered before replying. "I think they are alive. I believe that if Kai-lid were dead, I would sense it."

  "You mentioned that name before. Who is Kai-lid?"

  The owl hesitated. "Kai-lid Entenaka. It's Lida's Darken Wood name," he finally explained. Tanis nodded, feeling uncertain as to whether he should pry further.

  The half-elf offered the owl a bit of bread from his pack. The bird eyed the offering, then turned his head away. "I must hunt," was all he said before coasting off into the valley below. Tanis sat against a rock, munching the bread, enjoying the last display of the sunset and keeping an eye on the diminishing form of Xanthar. If it weren't for his concern about Kitiara, this would be almost pleasant. Xanthar was a crusty companion with a short temper and a sarcastic turn of wit, but so was Flint Fireforge, after all. Cradled against the rock, lazily following the movements of the owl as he swooped over the terrain, Tanis felt his eyelids drooping again.

  He awakened with a start when something crashed into the ground before him. Instinctively he leaped to his feet, his sword in his hand, although he couldn't recall unsheathing it. But no goblin or slig crouched before him. In fact, Tanis could see no threat at all in the twilight. His gaze fell to the ground. The body of a small rabbit lay twisted on the rocks. He looked up, and his nightvision caught Xanthar far overhead.

  Bread will not take you far, half-elf.

  Tanis waved his thanks. Then he gathered dry grass and twigs and found a few branches at the bottom of a dead tree. He was on one of the few escarpments with foliage, and he realized that Xanthar had taken that into account before choosing a spot to land. Tanis scraped at the inner bark of the branches and added the resulting fluff to his pile of tinder, which he moved to the leeward side of the boulder against which he'd slept. Then Tanis struck steel against flint. Several times sparks fizzled, then one finally caught. Carefully, the half-elf fed dry grass and twigs to the spark until it grew into a flame. Then he poked larger twigs into the tiny blaze. Soon he was crouched before a respectable campfire, skinning and gutting the rabbit and sliding the meat onto a long, peeled stick. He propped the stick on two rocks and sniffed the aroma as fat from the rabbit dripped and sizzled.

  Xanthar returned as Tanis removed the cooked rabbit from the fire. The bird landed on the ground but stayed well away from the flames. He shook his head at the half-elf's offer to share.

  "Cooked flesh doesn't suit my pallet," the giant bird said. "Fire destroys the taste, to my mind."

  As Tanis dined, the owl walked—although "waddled" might better describe his passage, the half-elf thought—to a bent pine and made himself comfortable on the stub of a broken branch. Xanthar closed his eyes and buried his golden beak deep in the pale fluff of his throat.

  Tanis, his belly comfortably full, leaned against the warm boulder and gazed at Xanthar, who huddled next to the trunk of the tree. Once, as though sensing the half-elf's stare, the giant owl opened one eye a slit, then reversed his position on th
e branch, presenting a dark back to the half-elf. Tanis saw the horned feet lock around the branch stub. The bird seemed to sag, and Tanis knew his companion was asleep.

  Chapter 15

  The Icereach

  It was the cold of death, Kitiara was sure. Her face, breasts, and hips were pressed against snow. The front of her shirt was sodden; the back seemed stiff, as though coated and frozen. Her feet felt like logs. She was dimly aware that her right hand still clutched a shard of shale from Fever Mountain. In the far distance, waves crashed. Nearer, she heard coughing.

  If this was the Abyss, it was like no Abyss she'd been warned about. She must be dead, yet Kitiara sensed the cold, tasted the snow, felt hunger. Certainly she heard what sounded like the ettin, rejoicing about something. And over it all, the moan of the wind and the boom of the sea.

  Kitiara raised her head. Her hair was nearly solid with sleet. She pressed nerve-impaired hands against her face and, ignoring the wind that drove into her exposed skin like needles, picked at the ice that coated one cheek. Her eyelids were nearly frozen shut. Finally she managed to open her eyes to slits.

  She found herself staring straight into a pair of fleshless jaws, incisors hanging down like icy stalactites, other teeth jutting up like stalagmites. Kitiara drew back with a shout, fumbled for her sword and her dagger, and remembered that she no longer had either. The beast into whose mouth she now gazed had been dead for generations. What it originally had been, Kitiara couldn't tell, but she could have nestled comfortably in its gaping jaws. It was the skull of some long-dead beast; the rest of the skeleton was nowhere to be seen.

  The ettin leaned against the thick joint that held the jaws together. Its right head was asleep, lolling against the left, a frozen dribble of drool down one side of its chin. The left head grinned at the swordswoman. There was no sneaking away when the ettin was asleep; the creature's heads slept in shifts.