The Demon's Den and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Tanya Huff

  “Destruction for the sake of destruction,” Erica snarled. “Mayhem for the sheer bloody pleasure they take in it. And the more they get away with, the more things will escalate.”

  “Then we make sure they don't get away with it.”

  “Then we'd better catch them before they get into those hills.” Erica tossed her head toward the layered ridges on the horizon, still covered in snow. “Those things are crossed with canyons and gullies and some nasty ground. They get in there, we'll never find them.”

  *

  “Do you smell…?”

  “Beef.” Jors scanned the sky for smoke but saw nothing rising against the low-lying grey clouds. “They're close.” He pulled Gervis to a stop, pulled his bow free, and slid to the ground, dropping low as he reached the top of the rise. There, in a hollow, backs to a clump of leafless willow, the three bandits sat around a small, smokeless fire roasting hunks of meat on the points of their knives.

  Jors figured they'd probably stopped here, at the edge of the plain, before heading into the canyon that he could see as a black line in the first rise of hills.

  “We move along that bank of snow…” Erica's low voice washed warm against his ear. “…and they'll never see us until it's too late.”

  “We should ride…”

  “No, they'll have loaded crossbows ready.”

  Now she'd mentioned it, Jors saw the butt of one bow lying close to hand.

  “They've shot as many horses as people. Maybe more. Raya and Gervis can distract them, make some noise over that way, where they won't be big white targets…” She pointed past the opposite side of the hollow. “…just before we move in.”

  The girl threw back her head and laughed, punching the man next to her in the shoulder with the side of her fist when he reached out to pull her braid. Brother, Jors realized and tried not to wonder about the wave of relief.

  “Jors? Can you do this?”

  He twisted to see Erica staring at him, her expression so neutral she had to be hiding something. “What? Why…?” He twisted a little farther to see both Companions staring at him as well. :Gervis?:

  :The girl…:

  :Is as guilty as the rest.: She was. Erica had tracked them to the cattle-holding. They'd tracked them together this far. The girl was one of the bandits, and the bandits were thieves and murderers. If she hadn't thrown the torch herself, she allowed it to be thrown knowing that horses would die and not caring if people did.

  :If you are sure.:

  The girl threw back her head and laughed…

  “Jors?”

  “Of course I'm sure.”

  Erica glanced over at the Companions and shrugged, a quick rise and fall of her shoulders that said ‘let's get on with this’ as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud. It was Erica's call. She wasn't senior, but Jors had joined her hunt. Pulling her sword, she nodded toward the fire. “All right. Go.”

  It worked exactly as planned.

  Heads started to turn as Erica rose out of her crouch, then jerked back the other way as the two Companions managed to sound like a charging cavalry unit. Jors got two shots off – confident enough in his ability to shoot past the other Herald. The first arrow pinned one male bandit to the ground through the trailing end of his jacket, the second went into the shoulder of the second male causing the throwing knife he held to slide from spasming fingers. The third…

  The third…

  Her eyes were as dark up close. There was grease on her chin and a perfect line of white teeth showed between slightly parted lips. She had a mole on one cheek, the flat dark kind Jors had heard girls refer to as beauty marks. Fitting. She was beautiful. Not very tall. But strong. Abandoning her gloves by the fire, she wrapped one bare hand around the horn and swung up into the saddle, deftly controlling the panicking horse. Her feet didn’t touch the stirrups until she'd been in the saddle for half a dozen strides. She bent low, tucked behind the cantle, further hidden behind a sudden scud of blowing snow. He didn't have a shot.

  The ring of steel on steel spun him around, and he saw Erica fighting the bandit he'd pinned. The man – visibly older than the bandit girl – had shrugged free of his jacket, but the delay had given Erica time to seize the advantage, and she clearly had no intention of giving it back. One blow, two, and he went down…

  …as the bandit with the arrow in his shoulder rose up to his knees, his knife in his other hand, pulled back to slash at Erica's hamstrings.

  Jors charged forward, kicked the knife clear, then pivoted and kicked the bandit in the head.

  The girl was gone, the pounding of her horse’s hooves growing fainter.

  “She'll be nearly to those canyons by now,” Erica growled.

  “If you can handle these two, I'll go after her.”

  “Those canyons are a maze, you'll never…”

  “I'm a better tracker than you are, you know I am. And she hasn't got that much of a lead.”

  Erica wanted to say no. He didn't know why, but he could see it on her face. Thing was, she wanted to bring these people in more, and he could see that too. Finally, she nodded.

  Gervis ran past, and Jors swung up much the way the bandit girl had, bow in his free hand. As they cleared the hollow, he saw the girl reach the line of black and disappear.

  By the time they reached the canyon, it was snowing hard enough Jors appreciated the cover the cliffs provided. He'd left his heavy winter leathers behind in Devin, and while the lighter clothing he had on wasn't made for extended cold weather, hopefully he wouldn't be out in it long enough for it to be a problem. :She can't have gone far.:

  She hadn't.

  Nor was she trying particularly hard to hide her trail, Jors realized as they headed up a slope steep enough he felt himself sliding in the saddle. She probably assumed her familiarity with the layout of the canyons – and only someone familiar with the ground would move so fast over such treacherous trails – would allow her to get away.

  If Gervis had been a horse, it might have worked.

  :There!:

  :I see her!:

  When she realized he was close, she put her heels to her horse. Bandit and Herald galloped single file along a narrow ledge. To the left, sheer rock rose over Jors' head. To the right, a drop of maybe twice his height down to what looked like a dried riverbed. Dangerous, but not deadly.

  Except that the next time he looked, the river bed had fallen away, down a tumbled hill of rock to flatten out a considerable distance below.

  The girl was brilliant rider, he'd give her that.

  Jors could almost reach out and grab the blowing ends of a dark tail when her horse screamed, hooves striking wildly at the rock as it tipped to the right and fell.

  She twisted around, met Jors' eyes…

  Jors clutched at the saddle as Gervis threw himself back, front feet paddling at the crumbling rock until finally he stood, sides heaving, nose out over a section of the ledge that no longer existed.

  :Heartbrother? Are you all right?:

  Gervis didn't answer for a moment, then he said, :That was too close.:

  :Not arguing. If you back up about fifteen feet, there's place that's wide enough I can dismount.:

  He felt Gervis draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. One foot at a time, raising it carefully and lowering it more carefully still, Gervis backed up until a cavity in the left wall gave Jors enough room to swing down to the ledge beside him and slide past.

  When he got back to the break, the blowing snow and the angle of the rock kept him from seeing the river bed until he dropped to his knees.

  The horse was dead.

  The rider…

  He couldn't see her on the river bed. If she'd been thrown…

  There!

  About halfway down the cliff, on triangle of a ledge about six feet long, no more than two feet wide at the narrow end. She lay on her back, one of her arms dangling, the other flung out as though she'd been grabbing at handholds as she fell.

  :Is she dead?:
/>   :I don't know.: With her head turned away from the cliff, Jors couldn't see her face.

  Then her outstretched arm moved. Pale fingers flexed.

  Jors crawled a little farther forward. :I can get to her. The rock's crumbled all the way to the ledge.: But when he went to move again, a hoof caught the edge of his trousers, holding him in place. He twisted to stare up at Gervis. :I can't leave her there to die!:

  :Raya says Herald Erica can not leave the bandit men without shelter. Particularly not the one who is injured. She must get them to the cattle-holding before she can join us. She is…: He paused, and his ears flicked forward. :She is not happy.:

  Jors had no idea if it was Raya or Erica who was unhappy, nor did it particularly matter. Heralds made hard choices. It was part of the job. But if Gervis could still reach Raya, they hadn't gone far.

  :Gervis, you need to catch up to Erica. Have her tie the bandit horses to your saddle, so Raya can make run for the cattle-holding while you follow at the speed of the horses. Erica needs to grab a stretcher if they have one, boards if they don't, so we can secure…: He didn't know the bandit girl's name so he gestured down the cliff instead. :…her in such a way we can lift her out without injuring her further. Have Erica send out a rider to meet you and take the horses,: he continued hurriedly, feeling Gervis readying a protest, :so that you can join her as she heads back here.:

  Reluctantly, Gervis lifted his foot. :I will go after you reach the ledge safely. If the girl is not badly injured, you and I will pull her out.:

  Jors took another look over the edge. :That's not likely.:

  :And yet, it is possible. Tie the rope to my saddle.:

  :I can't risk pulling you over with me if I fall.:

  Gervis snorted. :I know exactly how heavy you are, Chosen. I can hold you.:

  They lowered Jors' gear first, just in case. Then, gloves tucked into his belt, as little weight on the doubled rope as possible, Jors started picking his way carefully down the path of broken rock. Most of the loose stone had been swept clear when the bandit girl went over, but the route was treacherous enough that, more than once, only the rope kept him from following her horse to the river bed. The last few feet to the ledge became a barely controlled fall.

  A little surprised he made it, uninjured but for a bleeding scrape on his cheek, Jors knelt beside the bandit girl.

  Her heart was beating.

  Legs and arms were unbroken.

  Bubbles of blood stained her lips and teeth with every laboured breath.

  :Broken ribs. Probably a punctured lung. We can't move her without a board.: He jerked the rope and ducked the loops as it slithered around the saddle horn and fell. :Go.:

  :Be careful.:

  :It's okay.: Jors forced a smile he wasn't wearing onto his mental voice. :I think I can take her.:

  :That is not…: He felt Gervis sigh. :I will be back as quickly as I can. Herald Erica says you must stay warm.:

  Staying warm would be the trick. Between the blowing snow and the setting sun, Jors could barely see Gervis up on the ledge; a white blur moving backwards along the narrow path more quickly than looked safe.

  He'd left a lot of his gear in Devin with his leathers and the mule – the cattle-holdings were barely a day apart, and he'd intended to spend a day in each and end up back in Devin – but heading out with Erica, he'd borrowed against sleeping rough. A sheepskin for insulation against frozen ground, and two felted wool blankets to keep out the cold.

  But first... He looped the rope half a dozen times and carefully worked it under the bandit girl's body, tucking her one arm up to her side, securing it against her ribs, then threading the end of the rope through the loops and pulling it snug. He had to slide her onto the sheepskin or she'd freeze, but he wanted her ribs to move as little as possible while he did it.

  Tenting one blanket around them – anchoring it into cracks in the rock face with arrows – almost sent him over the edge, but finally he had her safely in a triangle of felt, his pack keeping the blanket up off their faces, one corner flipped back just enough to keep the air fresh and allow a beam of weak grey light. Jors pushed the second blanket between his body and the cliff, then wrapped it around them both. The bandit girl wasn't exactly in his arms, but he couldn't have fit a horsehair between them given the width of the ledge.

  “I knew you'd come for me.” Her voice was weak, thready, but with their faces barely a handspan apart it was loud enough. She licked at the blood on her lips and nearly smiled. “I'm your prisoner, then.”

  Jors wanted to say no, knew the answer was yes, and said instead, “Are you in much pain?”

  “My heart hurts. And if yours does not, then you lie in spite of your pretty clothes.”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  Her eyes met his. “I've thought of nothing but you since I first saw you.”

  He shrugged as much as their position allowed. “I'm a Herald, and you are…”

  “Yes.” When she laughed, she choked a little, and he slid his arm behind her head to help her breathe. “I am paid for my wicked ways,” she said at last. “But I wonder what you've done, Herald, that the Goddess treats you so badly.”

  “She sent me to save you.”

  “From this?”

  “From this as well.”

  “As well?” Dark brows rose. “You're late, Herald. Years and a great deal of wickedness late.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  When she sighed, a trickle of blood ran down to mat in her hair, a dark line against the curve of her cheek. Jors caught it on his thumb. “I wasn't.”

  “You weren't what?”

  “Sorry. Not for anything I've done. It was…” She paused long enough Jors thought she might have drifted into unconsciousness again. Then she swallowed and continued. “…an exciting life. Just after the ledge drops down to the riverbank, there's a cleft.”

  It took him a moment to follow the change.

  “It opens into a box canyon,” she continued slowly. “We have a base there. My cousins… You could take me there.”

  He actually considered it. Discarded it. “No. I couldn't.”

  “No, you couldn't. You'll choose your pretty clothes over me.”

  Jors wiped the blood away again. “I couldn't move you safely the rest of the way down the cliff, and I have no way to get you to the cleft, or into the canyon, or to your cousins without making your injuries worse.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Ah,” she said at last. “So you don't have to choose your pretty clothes over me.”

  “It's not the clothes…”

  Her free arm rose and punched him weakly in the shoulder. “Idiot. I know.”

  She sounded so exasperated with him that he laughed and bent his head to touch his face to her hair, breathing in her scent. “You said you weren't sorry,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Weren't.”

  She made a soft chuff of sound that might have been a laugh. “You caught that? I may be a little sorry now.” Her fingers closed loosely around his wrist. “Tell me about you. Tell me all the things I don't have time… to find out.”

  “You should rest.”

  “I can rest and listen. I don't want…” Her fingers tightened. “I want to be with you for as long we have.”

  “We'll have…”

  “Herald!”

  “Jors.”

  “Jors.” She said his name like she was telling him something she'd always known. “Please. Tell me…”

  So he talked. Told her about growing up in the forest. About the day he'd looked into sapphire eyes and known the forest was no longer his life. About getting his Whites. About the Demon's Den. About the charcoal burner's child. He talked, and he looked into her eyes, and he catalogued every expression, storing them safely away.

  Finally, when it had gotten so dark he could barely see her, she lifted her hand to his cheek, and he paused.

  “Morgaine,” she said.

  “What�
�?”

  “My name, you idiot.” He could hear the smile he couldn't see. “You never asked.” Her fingertips were cold against his skin. “Punished...” She blinked, and it looked like it took almost all she had to open her eyes again “...for my wicked ways.” When he started to speak, she moved her fingers across his mouth. “Will you… will you wait for me?”

  He swallowed, nodded, and said softly, “I'll wait.”

  “Good.” Her fingers slipped down to lie on her chest.

  :Chosen?:

  “A little sorry,” she said, and closed her eyes.

  It was very, very dark on the ledge.

  :Jors? Heartbrother!:

  *

  Jors felt almost beside himself as he climbed up off the ledge, as he helped Erica bring Morgaine's body up, as they rode back to the cattle-holding. He told the other Herald about the box canyon, and the bandit's base, and had nothing else to say. Erica let him ride in silence. Gervis was a constant presence in his mind, and Jors kept his eyes locked on the gleam of white that was his Companion’s head so he couldn't see the darkness all around.

  They laid the body out in a corner of one of the barns.

  “This is the beginning of the end for them,” Erica said quietly. “Even if using a Truth Spell on the others gives us little else, we can take their base in the canyon, weaken them enough so we can clear them off the road. It'll save a lot of lives.”

  Jors pulled Morgaine's braid out from under her back, laid it gently along her arm, then pulled the blanket up over her face. When he stood, Erica closed a hand over his shoulder.

  “Are you all right? When something like… like this happens…”

  No one had said the word lifebond. No one ever would.

  Jors shook his head, shook himself out from under Erica's hold, and moved blindly out of the barn until his hands touched a familiar warmth and his arms wrapped around a familiar neck.

  :Chosen?:

  “My heart hurts,” he said.

  And he wept.

  FAMILY MATTERS

  “As there's no need to wait for a reply from Verain, you'll have time to stop by and visit your grandmother before you head back to Haven.”