by Terry Brooks
“You won’t shoot,” the speaker said, “and it wouldn’t matter if you did. We can’t tell you. She would know if we did. She would come after us.”
“You should be worried about me, not Melis.” Leofur moved a few steps closer and gestured with her weapon. “Better tell me what you know before you find out what that means.”
Suddenly the fourth man, who was still standing well off to one side at the periphery of her vision, rushed her. She had moved too close to the other three. She swung the flash rip about, but another man charged in from the front and was on top of her before she could use it. She went down beneath him, thrashing and clawing. They stripped her weapon from her and tossed it aside. As she fought to get free, the rest of the men closed in.
“Not so tough now, are you?” the man on top of her said, hauling her to her feet and backhanding her hard across the face.
“What should we do with her?” another asked.
“Let’s have some fun!” exclaimed a third eagerly.
But in the next instant a huge shadow appeared out of the darkness, an eight-legged horror the size of a carriage, a nightmare of clicking mandibles and glistening eyes. It scurried toward them and knocked them aside like toys before they could react. It pinned them to the ground and hovered over them hungrily. Even Leofur was terrified for a moment—an instinctive reaction to this monstrous apparition—before she reclaimed her wits sufficiently to realize who it was. She scrambled away from the screaming, squirming men and recovered her weapon.
Let them up, she said to Imric.
The spider backed away, but not far enough to suggest that any of them should make a run for it. Even so, Leofur said, “Stay down and answer my questions. Answer them in full and maybe you will still be alive when we’re finished.”
One man had buried his face in his hands. Another was weeping. “What is that thing?” asked the bravest of the four.
“A pet,” she offered. “Now tell me where Melis is. Where did she take my friend?”
“All right.” A quick, anxious gesture. “Just keep that thing off us. Melis lives in the Murk Sink, in the Wilderun.”
“Where, exactly?”
“How would we know? She never invited us over for tea! Somewhere below Grimpen Ward, I think. It’s all swamp. You won’t be able to reach your friend down there.”
She remembered it now, although she had only flown over and not gone down into it. A dismal, forested stretch of backwater and tangled roots that stretched for miles. She couldn’t quite imagine how anything could live in it, but then she had no idea what Melis was like.
“So Melis must have been watching for weeks. To know where to send you and how to overcome my friend, she must have spent days watching. Is that what she told you?”
The man nodded. “Said she knew all about both of you. Said you never suspected she was there, so we could snatch your friend away once you were…” He trailed off.
“Out of the way, so I wouldn’t interfere,” she finished. “All done from the air, somewhere she knew we wouldn’t be looking. But what does Melis want with my friend?”
“She didn’t say. And I didn’t think it a good idea to ask. Melis is a lot more dangerous than you think. You’ll find out if you go after her. You and your pet.”
Although he didn’t sound convinced, casting a worried look over at the hovering spider. Leofur shrugged. “We’ll see. Where’s home for you four?”
The man shrugged. “Varfleet, mostly.”
“Varfleet. You’re on foot, right? I’ll let you go if you promise to start walking and not stop until you reach the Mermidon. From there, get back to Varfleet any way you can manage. Or go anywhere, for that matter, so long as it doesn’t involve going to Melis and telling her what’s just happened. Because—now pay attention—if you’ve lied to me or you disobey me and go looking for her, I will come right back here with my pet and start tracking you. I will track you until I find you.”
The man held up both hands in a warding gesture. “All right, no need to threaten. We’ve had enough of this business anyway.”
“Just so you understand. Remember how easy it was to find you this time? My pet can find you anywhere. Look at him. Do you believe me?”
All of them nodded except for the one who wouldn’t look up. He just whimpered a bit.
“Get out of here,” she said, gesturing dismissively.
All four scrambled up, grabbed their few possessions, and bolted into the darkness of the pass leading south toward the river. Not one bothered to cast even a single look back.
She waited until they were well out of sight and the night had gone still again. Cowards, she thought. Liars, too.
“Okay,” she said to Imric. “It’s over for now. You can change back again.”
Instantly he returned to his human self. She didn’t bother watching. She didn’t want to see what it looked like when he did so.
When he was fully re-formed, they stood together in the darkness staring off in the direction of the fleeing men. She glanced over at him. “I thought I had lost you when you didn’t answer me.”
His smile was surprisingly shy. “No, the opposite, in fact. You found me at just the right moment. Your voice kept me from acting on my animal urges. It stopped me from going on the attack and killing them all. I would have done so otherwise.”
Imagining it sent a shiver racing down her neck. “It didn’t feel like I did anything.” She let a hint of her anger show in her voice. “You seemed to ignore me when I pleaded with you. You kept talking about your hunger.”
“It was the wolf. The Parsk wolf is a very powerful creature once you become it. I knew this. I knew the risk when I made the change. The wolf was dominant. It kept me from saying more. But I stayed focused on not letting it take me over entirely. I did what was needed. Still, it required your help.”
“I wish you would explain these things better before they happen. It’s awfully hard to know what’s going on.”
“But now you see, don’t you? Everything worked out. I was able to keep the Parsk wolf form and not succumb to its instinctual needs.”
So she had been wrong about what had happened to him, she thought. He had managed, with her help, to control himself when it was needed. She must remember not to judge him too quickly in the future, to remember how difficult the shape-shifting could be sometimes. And he must remember she was still learning what to expect.
“That was foolish of you to go after them alone,” he said finally.
“I thought I had no choice.”
“Foolish, nevertheless.”
“Why didn’t you answer me when I called you?”
“You caught me mid-change. Things are always muddled when that happens. Your words were garbled. I came as quickly as I could.”
“It was quick enough, I guess.” She looked at him. “Do you think my warning was sufficient? Will they try to warn this Melis?”
“I doubt it. Look at how they talked about her. They’re terrified of her.” Imric paused. “What’s going on here, Leofur? With your friend. What’s this all about?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of Melis. As far as I know, Chrysallin has never been to the Murk Sink. Or even to that part of the Westland.”
She wondered again if whatever was happening might have something to do with her father, but if he was waiting for them in Murk Sink, she would find out soon enough.
“How was my timing back there?” Imric asked as they walked back toward the two-man. “Even though you didn’t actually call for me and clearly didn’t need my help…”
“All right. I admit it. I was foolish.” She grimaced. “I was careless. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “I appreciate you saying so.”
“Well, I owe you for that.”
“You owe me nothing. You brought me back from the brink of losing control. If you hadn’t, I would have torn into those men and we would never have found out anything. I wanted
that very badly. I could taste their blood; I was hungry for their flesh.” He glanced over. “I’m sorry. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but I think you need to understand what it’s like when you change forms. When you become another creature, you become more than its shell. You become the whole animal. You become infused with its life. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts you will adopt. You have to embrace the whole, and do what you can to keep it from overpowering you. That’s not always an easy task.”
She understood. She saw how hard this must be, a foreign creature’s habits and needs and urges and behavior pushing for dominance against the human part you somehow had to cling to. She remembered feeling the fury of both the war shrike and the Parsk wolf battering against the tether. How different this was from her father’s ability to take another form! Arcannen could use his magic to create the appearance of being another without actually taking on any of the emotional or behavioral aspects.
All something Imric Cort could never manage.
“I stand by what I said when we set out,” he continued, not looking at her. “You have a strong sense of self, a certainty of identity that I have never had. For me, becoming other creatures has always been normal, and that makes it just that much harder to come back to my birth form. You don’t have that struggle. You know exactly who you are.”
Do I? she wondered. It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I am drifting, searching for identity and purpose both.
“I’m doing my best to learn about shape-shifting,” she told him, “but it is a difficult education, and I’m not as comfortable with it as you seem to think. It will help me if you remember to tell me more about what to expect before you change. I can’t learn by intuiting the results. And I can’t keep educating myself through personal experience. Sooner or later, that’s going to go badly for both of us.”
They were at the airship now, and he found his clothes in the pilot box and began pulling them on again. “I’ll try my best.” He caught her looking at him. “I’ll also try not to be naked so much of the time. I’m not the world’s most beautiful specimen, after all.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’ll do well enough. Besides, I’m getting used to it.”
He nodded without looking at her. But something in the way he did so and then turned his back on her further suggested he was troubled by her response.
A strange man, she thought. He hid so much about himself. Even the Druids seemed very much in the dark. She had never heard any of them even speak about him before Oost had mentioned him. Paxon never spoke of him. It was as if Imric hadn’t existed before she met him. It was difficult to know if his secluded life at Paranor was by virtue of his circumstances or by deliberate choice.
It made her wonder how much he was hiding.
It made her wonder if she would ever find out.
Paxon Leah took Fero Darz by the shoulders and pulled him away from the bodies of the oketar and their handler and through the magic-induced mists created by the Druids. None of them was dead or even injured; they were simply unconscious. In the neighborhood of another twenty minutes, they would all be up and functioning.
The oketar, of course, would sense that being in the mist was the cause of their problem and that staying one second longer was a very bad idea. They would bolt back toward the airship instantly, and their handler would have no choice but to follow.
Fero Darz was a different matter. No one had planned on his appearance, thinking him still back on board the approaching airship. But now that he was here, Paxon decided to find a use for him. If Fero failed to return, his entire command would have to decide whether to come looking for him in a place where men and animals disappeared. Their enthusiasm would not be high, and their assigned purpose would suddenly be thrown into doubt. Who was authorized to give orders at this point? What was the best course of action? Further searching for the Druids would likely seem ill advised—especially when it was discovered that flying over the wall of mist or skirting its edges was impossible, or would be for a while, at least. Leaving Darz would be painful, but wasn’t it smarter to fly back to the command post at Dechtera for reinforcements?
That was what Paxon was hoping for. But at the very least, there would be discussion and dithering, all of which would give the Druids time to slip farther away while darkness continued to descend with the close of the day. If Paxon could get his little company a few miles off, he would have a chance of hiding them for another day.
It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was what he had to work with.
Besides, having Darz as his prisoner gave him not only bargaining power but also a chance to talk to the other about what he believed had really happened in Arishaig.
He pulled Darz all the way clear of the mist and onto open ground where the Druids were putting the finishing touches on their magical handiwork. The mist would respond to those approaching, rising to impede their airship and spreading out to prevent any effort to skirt its edges. It would do this for at least the next hour before its energy failed and it faded away.
“Who have you got there?” Isaturin asked, walking over.
“Fero Darz,” Paxon answered, permitting himself a small grin.
“Darz?” Miriya spat. “What’s he doing here? What were you thinking, Paxon?”
Paxon could feel the anger radiating off her. He forced himself not to respond. “Well, I was thinking that at some point we’re going to have to persuade the Federation that the Druids aren’t responsible for the deaths of their ministers and soldiers back in Arishaig. The Commander of the Ministerial Watch, as the only one left alive who witnessed what happened, would be a good person to start with. This way, we have time to talk to him about it, maybe persuade him of our innocence. Also, without his leadership, maybe our pursuers won’t be quite so quick to come after us. Cut off the head…”
“Let him alone,” Isaturin said to Miriya. “Paxon is right.” Signaling for one of the Trolls to pick up Darz and carry him, Isaturin added, “We need to go.”
Paxon was already searching the terrain north and east for passage, trying to discover the route that would best hide their tracks from their pursuers. When he started walking, Miriya fell into step beside him.
“Don’t mind me,” she said quietly. “I’m just upset about Karlin.”
“Not any better?”
“No. We need to get her to a healer and have her examined.”
“We need to find someplace safe, first,” Paxon said. “I just hope you’re not mistaken about how the mist affects the oketar.”
She gave him a look. “I’ve worked this particular magic before. The mist will stunt their sense of smell for twenty-four hours, maybe longer. They won’t be able to track us until after that. Either the Federation will bring in different animals or hunt us without. But how far can we get in that time?”
Paxon shook his head. “Far enough, I hope, that they can’t find us. But it’s asking a lot.”
They trudged on, the endlessly unchanging landscape giving the impression they were making no progress at all. The wall of mist disappeared behind them, and no pursuit showed itself. Paxon had chosen to angle to the northeast in an effort to disguise their direction. He still wasn’t certain where they were in relation to the Duln, only that they were much farther east of the Prekkendorran than he had hoped, and miles from any real cover.
They were perhaps half an hour into their march when Paxon heard a familiar voice. “Would it be asking too much to have your Troll put me down?”
Fero Darz was awake.
Paxon glanced back, past the other members of the party. The Druid Guard carrying the Federation commander had come to a stop and was awaiting instructions. “Set him on his feet,” Paxon said.
He walked back to Darz and faced him. “You are free to walk with us so long as you stay quiet and don’t try to run off. Once you do that, you will be bound and gagged and carried again. Understood?”
The other man nodded. “What happened back there?”<
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“Come up front with me, and I’ll tell you while we walk. But remember what I said.”
They moved to the head of the company and Paxon again began leading the way. “The Druids conjured a mist that rendered your handler and the oketar unconscious. Then you blundered in and went down, too. I decided to bring you with us. I wanted a chance to explain what I think happened back in the Assembly.”
Darz gave him a disgruntled look. “I know what happened. I was there.”
“You think you know. You only know what you saw, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. Now that we have time to talk about it, maybe I can make you understand.”
“You don’t have that kind of time, Paxon. My men will be up and tracking you again before long. They probably already are.”
“Well, they’ll be doing it without the oketar. The mist took away their sense of smell, and they won’t get it back for another day. You got something else that can sniff out our tracks?”
Darz gave him a look. “They’ll track you from the air. We’ll find you.”
Paxon shook his head. “I don’t think so. But for the sake of avoiding a lengthy and pointless argument while we wait to find out, let’s review what happened back in the Assembly.”
Darz rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked rumpled and decidedly lost. “All right. Make your point.”
“My point is this. You can’t seriously tell me you don’t have doubts about whether we were behind what happened. I even warned you that your security precautions were a concern. I fought to stop that thing myself. So did Isaturin and Miriya. If you really did see what happened, you saw that, too.”
He was angry by now, and he let it show. Darz was quiet for a time, clearly thinking things through. They continued to walk through the gully-riven terrain, skirting clusters of boulders and sinkholes. Paxon wondered if he should start thinking about shelter; there were already signs of a fresh storm rolling in.
“I’ll admit to some doubts,” Fero Darz said. “The evidence says this is your doing, but I can’t come up with a good reason for why you would do it. There doesn’t seem to be anything you would gain by killing off a delegation of peace negotiators—not when you’re the ones seeking to put a peace agreement with the Federation in place. But I still have to answer to my superiors.”