by D. H. Aire
Greth rasped, “Go!” Glancing over his shoulder at Nessa, he added, “Hold tight to your bow, we’re likely to need it!”
She hurriedly did so as Greth gestured for everyone to follow them as the unicorn raced ahead, all their remaining hounds bounding after with Lawson running with Casber in his arms, as the “rear guard” of hounds followed.
‘We must cross the border,’ the unicorn. ‘The goblins dare not be seen there.’
“You cannot know that for certain,” Greth muttered as Nessa held fast as he ran.
‘I know this much. The Demonlord schemes. His minions dare not yet reveal themselves openly in the Crescent Lands.’
“The goblins will not give up so easily!”
‘No, Greth, they will not, but once in the Crescent Lands we can seek allies, though, this will delay us, as well.’
#
A Hellhound fell dead as the Goblin’s leader’s sword cut deep into its neck. A goblin’s dagger reached another’s heart as its bearer grinned in triumph as he fought back another only to be taken from behind by a Hellhound’s biting through his neck and dragging him down like a dog playing with a bone.
The goblin, who now guarded their unconscious mage, cast his dagger, taking one of the Hellhounds in the eye. Howling it fell back, only to have the goblin leader’s sword sever its spine. In agony, it writhed, then the goblin’s sword pierced its heart and it went still.
So the battle with the Hellhounds went until the goblin mage began to stir and only two wounded Hellhounds circled them as their quarry escaped. “What?” the goblin mage rasped.
Growling, the two surviving and deeply wounded Hellhounds backed away, then ran off as best they could.
Blood dripping from cuts and bites, the goblins fell exhausted to their knees. “Mage, we… must go after them,” the commander said.
Sitting up, the mage reached into his pouch and drew out a vial, which he sniffed. His face cleared of pain, he rose to his feet. “Here, smell. It will invigorate you… but there will be a price to pay later. We will sleep long and sound.”
Each sniffed and immediately stood straighter, their wounds partially healed.
The mage tossed the empty vial away, knowing he dare not offer a second dose for at least a day. Unless one of them had no wish to wake from the healing sleep they would need, he reminded himself.
“They must not escape us…” the goblin leader declared. “Hounds or no, we know the unicorn is with them and we cannot let it interfere further in our Lord’s Plans.”
#
Ani’ya’s shut her eyes tight as the hound raced, reconsidering her excitement at riding it as it’s every move seemed more to jar her. Yi’ya’s hound ran past. The girl visibly gagging and she wasn’t the only one.
Thri’la, on the other hand, was grinning, enjoying every moment.
One other was as nearly breathless as Casber stirred in Lawson’s arms. “Uh, he’s looking better.”
Lawson grunted in acknowledgement as she shifted position and whispered in his ear, “I never thanked you for saving my life.”
“Think nothing of it,” he replied, wincing. Having seen more of her as she hung from that table, than he was comfortable with.
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
His cheeks flushed as he ran on; reminding himself she was just a girl. Not even a particularly pretty one as his people thought of beauty, either. ‘Then again you are considered rather ugly, too,’ the unicorn quipped.
“Keep out of my thoughts,” he muttered.
“What?” Yel’ane said, smiling thinly at his obvious discomfiture.
“The unicorn’s offered to give me a kiss, too,” he replied.
‘Liar! I did not… but I’d be more than happy to lick her cheek as she did.’
He thought back hard, It would be so easy to drop the boy.
Yel’ane pressed her cheek closer and realized she’d never felt happier in her life. Nessa, glancing back uncertainly at her, did not even spoil the feeling.
#
The ash floated on the air, drawn to the nearest source of magery. Beneath the old keep rested an artifact of power once set by an exile, who feigned little interest in magery, but warded the place of people who called this once verdant land home. The artifact had not felt such an infusion of magic in centuries. The elemental’s presence had keyed it, releasing what other of the Art had hidden away until the proper day.
The arguing women in the tavern drew its attention. “Most of those fools we called husbands may never come back!”
“If mine doesn’t, it’s no loss.”
The old woman who owned the tavern shouted, “Ladies, ladies, we don’t know what’s happened.”
“Letting our men come home so drunk and talking of a stupid bounty… this is all your fault!” one shouted.
“You could send your son out there to look for them, find out what happened,” one woman suggested, glaring back at the old woman.
The taverner’s wife protested, “Once we’re certain that whatever it was is gone, he will, but not a second before!”
The one regular who had not ridden out that morning, had his hands over his ears. “I need a drink.”
His wife slapped his shoulder, “You’ve had more than enough for a lifetime!”
“I should have tied mine up, too!” a younger woman with a scar across her cheek nearly wailed.
“It’ll be all right,” the old woman said. “You’ll see!”
“How are we to defend this place?”
“The land out there is difficult to farm as it is… if something happened to our men, what will we do?”
“Do? Leave!” Another woman shouted. “The well’s been getting lower and lower, if you haven’t noticed –– and the men promised to dig another!”
“They’ve promised that for years,” another griped.
The taverner shook his head, fearing the men, such as they were, had likely gotten themselves killed. He glanced at his wife, then his mother, who, meeting his gaze clearly understood that they would be selling a lot less ale for some time to come.
His wife frowned, glancing around.
It watched. Blessed, that one. It suddenly felt a sense of… pain. It found itself drawn toward the main gate. The woman shook her head, “Did you hear that?”
“What?” her husband asked.
Her mother-in-law went to the window and everyone grew quiet as dust drifted over everything. There was a whimpering sound. They marched out of the tavern and followed it to the main gate, the ladies covering their heads in their shawls. They stared through the portcullis.
“What the hell’s that?”
Hellhound. “It’s a Hellhound…” the taverner’s wife replied. “I think. And it’s hurt.”
“Well, it can damn well stay out there,” one of the women said.
There was a sudden creaking noise. “The mechanism!”
This will not do, at all.
The taverner’s wife frowned, looking about.
“It’s turning on its own!” one of the woman cried.
“Someone stop it before it before that creature gets in!”
The Hellhound lay head down just outside the gate as the portcullis ratcheted up bit by bit. “Someone get the old guard, he’ll be able to stop it.”
They heard the old man say behind them, “I’ve been dreaming so long, I’d forgotten.”
They turned and stared. The old man was covered in gray ash and was not longer stooped. He was still the shortest person in the vill. He turned and did a little dance, “The tower’s back and I’ve hounds once more to train. Hee, hee!” He ran out into the Courtyard.
“He’s gone mad! Go out there and stop him!” one of the older woman demanded, pushing at the reluctant taverner.
The Hellhound rose limping as the old gate guard looked at her, “Oh, you poor thing. The gobbles hurt you I see.”
The five foot tall Hellhound whimpered.
“Kennel’s that way,” the
old man pointed patting an undamaged part of the creature’s black coat. The ash settled on it and the Hellhound seemed to breathe a bit easier.
“What?” the old tavern woman rasped, coming outside ahead of her son. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Never seen a dwarf have you?” the old fellow chortled. “Well, we built this place in days long gone and for the old Master, set up residence here. Wanted to race the hounds against those arrogant lords in Catha, he did. But the hounds died fighting the goblins, oh, when I was a boy.”
“But…” the old woman rasped.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he said, grinning. “The magery’s back. It’ll help heal the hounds, even as they are.”
“Hounds? What are you talking about? That’s some evil creature!”
“Nay. They’ve souls else they wouldn’t slink back here. Oh, I dare say you lot won’t be depending on those frecklish louts with them to protect you.”
“Hellhounds protecting us?” the woman with the scar rasped from suddenly rather cramped doorway.
There was a howling far beyond the gate. “Tavern man. Best fetch a cart, though it’s too bad we have no more horses.”
“Uh, I think the stranger last night may have left two behind,” his wife said, the others looking at her in surprise.
“Why, did he now?” the old dwarf said, smiling. “Oh, I bet all of you are suddenly feeling a lot better now, too.”
The women looked startled. One felt her bruised arms and realized they no longer were injured. The old woman flexed her fingers without pain, “What?”
“Blessings abound and likely shall for a great long while with this much magery descending on the old place… as long as we take proper care of the hounds, even such as this laddie and lassie… I dare say you’ll keep feel rather hail. Oh, I’m so looking forward to breeding ‘em again and the goblin or brigand who thinks to take us on will regret it.”
There was another howl, tinged with pain.
He gestured and the taverner and the gaping regular headed to the barn to get the cart. The taverner’s wife went to get the two horses. “Busy we likely to be, lads,” he told the younger men. “Yessir, know you they say Hellhounds are near immortal. Not so, my granddame told me, they just heal if there’s magery in the air.” He dusted off his head, “And today there seems quite a bit, I’d say.”
Chapter 21 – The Border
The tunnels seemed to go on forever. Moss glowed bright all around them. Mahr quickly realized it glowed all the brighter the closer you were to it. Bek’ka warned them to do their best not to touch the stuff with bare skin. Too many of the little ones were too curious and began crying as it burned them.
Water seemed to neutralize it, but did little for the burns, which had to be carefully wrapped. Often they could not slow down to deal with the burns, their quarters were too close. The caverns offered them places to rest; had waterfalls where they could bathe or draw fresh water to drink. They were careful of the crevices, which they were told could be used as privies... With so many, privy breaks were a necessity.
Za’an looked as wan as she did. The girls they carried were restless and sobbed more often than not. Bek’ka had them sing for the longest time, but now they were sick of it. There were shapes carved under the coat of glowing moss. Sometimes it looked like faces and they were of the height of many of the girls, though, it seemed many had beards. At least that seemed to help distract the girls, who pointed and shouted, “Found one.” Or, “Here’s another.”
Mahr hated the game. They could hear every step and drop of water echoing through the tunnels. Worse, time seemed to have no meaning. Slogging through sections of the tunnel where water came up to their ankles, left her miserable. At one point, the moss suddenly emitted pulses of light, causing consternation. The bright pulses seemed to move off quickly into side tunnels they had been told to ignore.
Much later, they heard shouting ahead. At first Mahr wasn’t certain what disaster had befallen them now. “Sunlight ahead,” the words were relaying back down the line.
“Sunlight ahead,” she whispered.
“Sunlight ahead!” Za’an relayed back, grinning back at her.
Her charge asked, “Mother there?”
Mahr swallowed, praying it might be so. “All our Mothers.”
#
“Mistress Ky’los?” her brown cloaked Sister asked, offering a hot cup of caf.
“Didn’t make it,” Bek’ka replied, happy to warm fingers too long damp. “What of the other groups?”
The valley was now a makeshift encampment, where the first girls out of the tunnels were being served broth and bread and the injured attended to. Wagons also waited as scores of well-armed Sisters, who had come around by sea, stood watch. No few rushing to hug their daughters, Sestors, or other close kin.
“Your groups are the last. That you arrived together is a boon. But you’re days late.”
“We had… difficulties. How many did the others lose?”
“Scores of the girls were sick, but the healers in Stanis say they’re mending. Most suffering from dehydration and exhaustion… How many on your end?”
“Thirty-four dead that we’re certain of. We’re missing a group of year-mates and a couple of olders from my group, not certain how many from the other. Hellcats overtook them, then we met up and did our best battling them together… There was a pack of them.”
“A pack?”
Bek’ka nodded. “We lost most of our people when we were hit by the brigands we had bribed. Lost my mother to a Hellcat.”
“I’m sorry. We all loved and respected Ky… Sire R… Well, you’re safe now. We’ve wagons enough to get you all into the city, but it’ll be tight.”
“They’re used to that… I’ll need all the arrows and supplies you can spare.”
“Bek’ka…”
“My scouts and I are going back into the Badlands. We’ll not leave those girls.”
“My orders are that there’s no going back. We save who we can.”
“Arrows and supplies,” she repeated, brooking no argument.
“Bek’ka, there’s a bounty on every one of our heads. The Lords haven’t taken kindly to our stealing the girls out from under Myff.”
“Hell with him and all of them. I’d slit my half-brother’s throat given the chance. I’m not leaving those girls back there.”
The woman nodded, “Then I was told to tell you this. You’re only chance of finding any of those lost is to go north, not back.”
“What?” she muttered, watching the line of girls and young women, who no longer looked in the least like children, coming this way.
“The Mother Shaman was insistent. She said should any not make it to one of the nearest coastal city-states, the Caravan Road is the likeliest place to find any strays.”
“With bounty hunters?” Bek’ka said, thoughtfully.
“Who will be more likely to take ships to Cathart and chance the Caravan Road east or the Badlands themselves… How many of your Sisters do you plan to take?”
“Five of us, is all we’ll risk.”
“You know what’ll happen if they catch you?”
“Do not worry. They’ll take none of us alive.”
#
Greth and Nessa came upon a line of cairns, marking the beginnings of the Crescent Lands. All the unattached hounds had run off to hunt and seek fish in the nearby stream. The hounds that the girls rode were among the third set they had rotated the harnesses and girls to. They trooped to a halt. “Can we get off now?” Vi’ya half-pleaded.
“Yes,” Greth said, as he unhooked the belt, allowing Nessa to climb down.
Casber rode up, and sliding off the unicorn’s flank, began helping unstrap the girls.
“Thank you, Casber,” Vi’ya said, smiling at him.
“Um, you’re welcome.”
Nessa was soon helping. “This means a pee break, young ladies,” Nessa said. “No one strays far!”
Lawson ca
me loping up, lagging behind, looking winded. “I told you, you could do it,” Yel’ane said.
“Um, Lawson,” Ani’ya said as he unbelted, and Yel’ane clambered free. “You look terribly tired from all that running with Yel’ane on your back.” Ani’ya gave her a long look, “I’m a lot lighter to carry.”
“Hey! Take me!”
“No, me!” girls chorused.
Yel’ane gaped, then muttered, “Why you…”
Ani’ya grinned back at her.
Lawson just breathed hard and fell to his knees, “Think about that later.” He then lay down and closed his eyes.
Greth glanced at him and shook his head as Nessa came over and whispered, “Uh, I’m not certain Ani’ya isn’t right.”
“Why? Because Lawson has never run so hard in his entire life?”
Frowning, Nessa shrugged, “Yel’ane can just as easily ride double with Casber… Riding the hounds for so long seems to be taking a toll on the some of the girls.”
“You mean all of them, except that one… who I think is half hound, herself.”
With a glance at Thri’la, Nessa nodded, “Greth, I think, well, it might be better if Yel’ane wasn’t spending as much time with, um, Lawson.”
He frowned and knelt on one knee and half-whispered, trying to meet her gaze as an equal. “Nessa, are you afraid she sweet on him?”
“Of course, not. He’s… I’m afraid he might get the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea about what?” Greth asked as Yel’ane stared at them as one of the girls pulled at her hand, begging that she go with her to find a good spot.
“In a moment…” Yel’ane rasped. “Go over there. I’ll be right there.”
The girl nodded and hurried away.
Nessa shrugged, “Well, about Yel’ane. She’s just a kid, really.”
“You all look like infants to us.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Nessa said. “As long as that’s how he sees her.”
Yel’ane stamped her feet and ran after the girl.
Nessa sighed, ending their little talk as she went to help with the girls.
Greth muttered, “Women.”
Lawson feigned snoring, thinking the same thing, then fell asleep.