Nomadin

by Cormier, Shawn P.

  "Tell me your name," she repeated. "I don't recall your face, and I know most of my father's coolies by sight, if not by smell. So have out with it. Your name!" The princess had her hands at her hips, and from the look of it, wasn't going anywhere until her question was answered.

  Ilien tried to catch Thessien's attention. Surely he had noticed the strange glow in Kysus's eyes, but the Eastlander's gaze was fixed on the princess. Kysus, meanwhile, continued to steal his way behind the king's soldier, positioning himself to gain the upper hand.

  Gallund's words came suddenly to Ilien, as if from out of a dream. Some appearances are not what they seem. He recalled the spell the wizard had used to make the giant eyes disappear in his study back home, the spell from his dream when his mother wasn't real. If it dispelled illusions, then perhaps . . .

  "Illustus bregun, illustus bregar!" Ilien cried, squeezing his spellbook tight.

  The suddenness of his spell jolted everyone alert as it reverberated around the darkened ballroom.

  Nothing happened.

  "Ilien! What do you think you're doing?" the princess demanded, her hands clenched into fists at her side. "You scared me half to death. If I—"

  Her eyes flew wide in terror. "Behind you!" she screamed in warning.

  Thessien's sword rang free from its scabbard as he rushed forward, knocking Ilien aside. Ilien sprawled to the floor, his spellbook flying from his grasp, and looked up in terror at the beast crouching where Kysus had stood.

  Hooked teeth leered from a long, pointed snout. Taller than a man, and twice as broad, the beast stood upright on its wolfish hind quarters, hairy human arms hanging down where front legs would have been. It fell to all fours, warg-like and stiff-legged, lowering its head warily. Up from its back curved a thick, prickly tail covered with mottled, black fur. Like a scorpion's, a sharp black barb dripped steaming liquid from its splayed end.

  The Groll roared and sprang to meet Thessien's charge. The Eastland prince sounded his battle cry, his sword flashing brightly in the dull glow of the lightstone, his long legs propelling him quickly to cut off his enemy's attack. At the same moment, the king's soldier grabbed the princess by the arm. The lightstone fell from her hand, bounced along the cold stone floor and thrust them all into blinding darkness.

  The princess screamed and Globe flashed to life above Ilien, lighting the ballroom with its dazzling radiance. Stunned by the magical light, the Groll skidded to a halt half way to Thessien, its claws raking across the floor, scoring the polished stone with an ear-rending screech.

  "Run, Ilien!" the princess shouted as the king's soldier dragged her away.

  Ilien hesitated. He couldn't leave Thessien to fight alone. On instinct he reached for his hunting bow but it wasn't there, and the Groll twisted back on Thessien with renewed intent.

  "Get out of here, boy!" Thessien shouted. The Groll's spiked tail lanced toward him and he neatly dodged the strike, lashing out with his sword.

  A hand gripped Ilien's shoulder. "Come on!" cried the princess, pulling him away. He stole one last look at Thessien—the prince's sword flashing in the gloom as Globe danced madly above him—then they fled the way they came, through the double doors, down the hall and back up the stairs, the king's soldier in the lead, leaving Thessien to fend off the Groll alone.

  The halls were eerily empty now. Every last man battled the wierwulvs outside the castle. As they neared the princess' room, Ilien looked over his shoulder, hoping to spot Thessien bounding toward them.

  "Your friend was a brave man," the king's soldier said.

  They raced through the open door and into the princess' room, latching the door behind them.

  "Lock it!" the soldier commanded.

  "Where's the key?" said the princess frantically, eyeing the empty silver lock on her chest of talismans. "We need the key!"

  A piecing howl from out in the hall chilled Ilien's blood, and the distinct rattle of the Groll's deadly tail grew louder as the beast moved up the corridor toward their room.

  The princess hunted recklessly for the key, throwing open drawers, knocking over lamps. She pounded on the secret back door. "We're trapped!"

  The king's soldier stepped forward. Cursing, he knocked her out of the way.

  "Why anyone values magic is beyond me!" He kicked the secret door open with the heel of his boot.

  The screech of claws on stone followed from out in the hall as the Groll rushed forward. The front door buckled under its assault. Another blow sent nails flying from the hinges, but the door held. There was a moment of breathless silence, then the doorknob began to turn. The soldier drew his sword and stood before the princess.

  Out of the corner of his eye Ilien saw a flash of silver. The magical key shot from under the bed and raced for the door. Ilien ducked as it buzzed past his head, reaching the lock in the nick of time, the bolt falling into place with a loud click. The key breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  The knob turned again. The door shook but wouldn't open. The Groll howled in rage and the key raced to the princess' pocket, squealing like a stuck pig.

  "Go!" bade the soldier. "That lock won't hold for long."

  At that, the door burst apart, splinters of wood flying inward. The Groll lowered its head and stepped into the room, its scorpion's tail hovering in the air above it, black barb quivering. A deep gash dripped blood onto the floor, a mute reminder of the power of the steel tooth its last victim had wielded. It approached its new prey cautiously.

  The armor-clad man advanced a step and stopped, his sword held steady before him. "Get out of here!" he shouted back over his shoulder.

  The princess grabbed Ilien by the hand and they fled through the secret back door, leaving the king's soldier to face the Groll alone.

  When they reached the spiral staircase they looked down in terror. Several turns away three pairs of shining red eyes raced upwards toward them. The princess pulled Ilien up the stairs, the wolves close behind. Three turns up and the stairs abruptly ended at a small door.

  "Don't tell me!" Ilien cried. "You can't find the key!"

  "No," said the princess, falling back against the wall. "I'm afraid of heights."

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  She flung the door open. A violent gust of wind knocked her back into Ilien's arms. Ilien looked past her in awe. The door opened onto nothing. The night sky stretched out before them like an endless void. A small ledge snaked away on either side of the tower into darkness, and below they could see the swirl and rush of the battle on the ground, highlighted in the orange glow of many bonfires.

  "The observatory's not finished yet," breathed the princess.

  The wolves drummed up the wooden stairs. Ilien turned in a dizzying circle. There was no where to go.

  The princess suddenly drew him close, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hold tight," she whispered. She pulled her magical feather from her pocket and gave him a quick kiss. "We jump on three."

  Ilien's eyes flew wide. "What!?"

  A blast of wind slammed them backward, threatening to knock them from the tower.

  "Don't let go, no matter what!" she shouted. "One, two—"

  Ilien flung his arms around her in disbelief. The wolves rushed at them from the top of the stairs.

  "—three!"

  They leapt as one.

  As they rushed headlong toward the ground, Ilien could hear the princess scream above the roaring wind.

  "She told me it was magical, I swear!"

  Chapter IX

  The Drowsy Wood

  The rushing wind swept their screams away. They clung to each other in panic, neither noticing the other, mindless terror overwhelming them as they fell. Ilien's thoughts flashed to his warm house back home, his mother's reassuring voice, the smell of paper in the study. His final seconds were spent in shocked, serene silence. The piercing cries of the princess washed past him like a distant, peaceful wave.

  Laughter suddenly crashed over him, bringing him b
ack to his senses. The screams of the princess had turned to exuberant shouts.

  "It works! It really works! We're flying!" she cried.

  All at once, something heaved beneath Ilien, driving his breath away, slowing his reckless descent. He opened his eyes and saw the earth below tilt and turn as together he and the princess swooped down over the battle on the ground, the heat from the bonfires sweeping over them, the smoke stinging their eyes, their toes inches from swinging swords and snapping jaws. The clang of metal and cries of battle rushed around them in a dizzying accord. Ilien's boots blind-sided a wierwulf and it fell to the ground before its astonished opponent.

  They sailed back into the sky, climbing above the din, Ilien clinging tightly to the princess. The waging battle receded beneath them, men and wierwulvs growing small as toothpicks. The clamor faded and the bonfires shrank to burning match sticks.

  "We made it!" Ilien shouted. "We really made it!"

  They laughed and wept, howled and whooped, hugging each other tighter as they soared above the melee. They rose on the stiff night wind, higher and higher above the castle until the bonfires below appeared as tiny sparks and the stars above glimmered like ice crystals. A cold breeze blew them upward again until the battle beneath them was all but lost to darkness. Their laughter trailed away to silence.

  "How do we get down?" Ilien asked, hugging the princess tight and beginning to shiver.

  "I don't know." The princess hugged him back, an edge of panic in her voice.

  "What do you mean, you don't know?"

  "I'm not a bird. It's only one feather! Can't you cast a spell or something?"

  Together they screamed as a frigid gust blew them higher. Ilien's fingers grew numb. His arms ached. Shivers tore through him, and his grip loosened on the princess.

  "Don't let go!" she shouted above the wind.

  "I can't hold on much longer. I can't feel my hands. We have to get down!"

  Again the night winds drove under them, lifting them toward the crystalline sky. Ilien held on with the last of his strength.

  "I d-don't even know your n-name," he said, his teeth beginning to chatter.

  The princess held tightly to Ilien, but her arms were tiring. "Ilien. Hold on."

  "I don't even kn-know your n-name," he repeated. "What's your n-name?"

  "Windy. My name's Windy," she replied, starting to cry.

  "W-windy?" Ilien laughed. His grip faltered.

  "No, Ilien! Hold on!"

  Ilien caught himself, wrapping his arms around her legs and slowly slipping toward her feet. She reached down to grab him. "Don't let go!"

  A dark shadow passed overhead, blotting out the stars. Windy looked up in fear as a roiling, black cloud descended from out of nowhere, screeching as it came, falling like a net of flapping black wings from the sky. A flock of giant birds flew down upon them, clawing at their eyes and clinging to their hair. One had Ilien by the ear. Another hammered its long beak into his back.

  Ilien hugged Windy's legs, his arms weakening. He slipped and cried out, catching himself around her ankles. The birds thrashed their wings against him, ripping at his clothes. Others flew beneath him, stabbing him with their beaks. A knot of burning panic, Ilien could do nothing but endure their fury—but the pain in his arms had eased. The birds were holding him up, all the while slowly descending as their wings began to beat in unison. He heard Windy shriek above him. Down they sailed, faster with every second, back down to earth, down toward solid ground and safety. They were going to make it! They were going to make it after all!

  Ilien's arms gave out, and he fell, screaming in terror.

  He quickly struck the ground in a daze, landing squarely on his rump.

  "Hey!" his pencil complained from his back pocket. "That hurt!"

  Ilien had fallen only a few feet but it was enough to knock his wits away for a moment. Above him, the princess came in for a gentle landing, a score of flapping black wings easing her gently to the ground. The birds set Windy down beside him and flew off in a thick, inky cloud, the clatter of their wings receding into the night.

  Ilien sat in stunned silence as the night wind played around him and hissed through the tall grass. The stars hung distant and cold above.

  Windy stared blankly at the air in front of her. "What just happened?" she asked.

  "I don't know," Ilien answered, nursing his throbbing arms and trying to gather his wits again.

  They sat in the middle of a large field, its edges indiscernible in the pale starlight. A gusty wind tugged at the tall grass around them. The horizon glowed orange, the pulsing orange of fire.

  Windy rubbed at her arms. "What do we do now?"

  Ilien climbed to his feet, but overwhelmed with dizziness, he sat back down. "We can't go back," he said. "The castle is under siege. We'd be killed with all the others."

  Windy hugged herself and turned away.

  Ilien started. "I didn't mean—I only meant—" He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure your parents are safe," he said quietly.

  The princess sat in silence. "You mean my father," she spoke at last. "The king of Evernden has no queen." She said this last part bitterly. Tears made her eyes glow dimly in the dark and she quickly wiped them away. "I'm sorry about Thessien," she offered. "He was your friend. And Gallund—now you're alone too, I suppose."

  Ilien looked away, back toward the bright ribbon of light on the horizon. His pencil wriggled in his pocket but remained silent. The wind hurried over the tall grass around him and through the shrouded brambles, sighing in the shadows.

  "Why is this happening?" Windy whispered. "Why was that creature after us?"

  The answer came before Ilien could speak. "It was after Ilien." The giant dog emerged from the shadows, its imposing bulk rising over them, eyes glowing like two pale moons.

  The princess fainted. Ilien caught her and lowered her to the grass. He looked up at the dog. "I thought you were dead. How—"

  "It's no coincidence that I've found you," said the dog. "In fact, nothing that has happened has happened by chance. The birds of the Lady may have saved you, but I am your only hope now."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Not now. Wake your friend. We must go at once."

  Ilien sat straight. "Go where?"

  The monstrous dog crept closer. Its fangs hung down like gleaming icicles. "You're still being hunted. There's a Groll in the wood."

  Windy stirred and sighed as if lost in a pleasant dream.

  "Hunted?" Ilien rasped. "Me? But why?"

  "Do you think we have time for a tale?"

  Windy woke slowly, but when she saw the massive dog she bolted upright, scrambling to get behind Ilien.

  "It's okay," Ilien assured her, holding the giant dog's icy gaze. "He's a friend."

  "But, it, I heard—"

  Ilien grabbed her by the shoulders. "Yes. He speaks. Listen to me, Windy. We have to go with him, right now. That thing is still after us."

  Her eyes went wide, her face pale. "Why? Why is this happening?"

  "I don't know, but we have to go. Come on."

  The giant dog lifted it head, testing the night air with its nose. The tall grass bowed beneath a chill wind, a wind that minutes earlier had danced past the prowling form of the Groll.

  The dog crouched low, its thick hind legs knotted with muscle. "You'll have to ride me."

  "Ride you?" Ilien frowned at the thought. It was frightening enough just to be so close to the outsized canine with its anvil head and vise-like jaws. Riding it seemed insane.

  "I like it no better than you!" growled the dog, baring its teeth. "Now quick! Get on my back! It's near!"

  The wailing howl of the Groll sounded in the distance and they scrambled on top of the dog. Windy sat in front, clutching the scruff of its neck.

  The shaggy brute tossed its head. "Not so tight! Hold on with your legs!"

  They bounced about awkwardly at first as the dog trotted forward, Ilien holding fast around Windy's waist, but soon t
he dog broke in to a canter and they found the going easier. They traveled quickly across the open field, the only sound to break the silence that of the dog's heavy strides as it ran through the swaying grass. The shadow of the forest rose up before them, climbing above the calm field like a towering black wave. They dove into the woods, the dog's keen eyes guiding them through the inky gloom. Ilien looked back at the receding landscape. The trees seemed to close in behind them, stepping together to block their retreat. There was no sign of the Groll.

  "I think we lost it," he said.

  "Don't be so sure," panted the dog, looking back over its shoulder. "Now keep quiet. We've a ways to go."

  They rode beneath the dark forest canopy for nearly an hour, the dog keeping a steady pace, eating up the miles in silent monotony. There was no sign of pursuit, no howls in the distance, only passing trees and swiping branches. Ilien thought about what the dog had said—a Groll was hunting him, a creature with razors for claws, a venomous dagger for a tail, a monster that could kill with a single touch. But why? Why him? He was only a wizard's apprentice, and not a very good one at that. He had nothing anyone wanted, knew nothing that everyone else didn't already know. It made no sense. It couldn't be true. Yet it was true. He shivered, pressing himself closer to Windy's comforting warmth. Now because of him, she was in danger too, and without his spellbook or Gallund's wand they were helpless. He held tightly around her waist and she squeezed his hand in return.

  They emerged from the trees and entered into a wide field. The forest's dark shroud dropped away to reveal an endless star-speckled sky. They galloped on, climbing steadily up the rising grassland. At the top of the hill they stopped. The field sloped away before them, stretching out into a sea of grey fog, the pale orb of the moon balanced on the tree tops behind them.

  "Just a little farther. Hold tight." The dog trotted quickly down the hill.

  "Where are we going?" Windy whispered.

  Ilien studied the field that rolled out before them, unbroken except for the square outline of a small grove of pine trees in the distance. "I'm not sure. Maybe there's a town past those trees. We'd be safe in a town, I think." He looked back as they drew near the grove. Behind them the moon had crested the hilltop. Framed in its light rose the loping shadow of the Groll, its tail raised like a sickle behind it.