For the first time, Thimeon was able to articulate what he had felt for a few days. The feeling had grown with his reading of the ancient tome, but he had not fully understood it until now. “I do not know what the hope is for any of us, but I believe the All-Maker wants us to go there. I do not know why. It may be that we will all perish. Or maybe we will find my other companions there, waiting to use their gifts. Waiting to wield the weapon we bring them. I only believe that I am supposed to go.”
“I do not know the All-Maker as you do,” Dhan replied. “He is only a name—a name my father ridiculed. But I will put my trust in you.”
Thimeon did not reply. He did not want this burden, but he couldn’t turn it down. He sat for a moment longer, looking at the distant peak of Illengond so tall against the northern sky. Had men really walked upon its peak with the All-Maker?
Then a strong wind picked up from the east. Thimeon turned his face into it and pressed onward. At midday they took a brief rest in the shelter on the lee side of a steep hill. A thin column of rising steam led Thimeon to a warm spring seeping through a crack in the rock, and he knew they were close. He did not sit but paced along the edge of the slope as the others ate. After a meal they refilled their water skins at the spring and continued. When they came around the hill, the wind picked up in intensity and blew directly against them. In the east, clouds zipped across the sky and built up behind them. The sun disappeared more frequently.
Late in the day the company rounded a bend on the narrow trail and came to the top of a shallow ravine. The sky was overcast, but at least the wind had subsided. A river tumbled off the mountain to their right and carved its way down toward the plains about a mile to the north.
Thimeon had been here twice before. A hundred yards down the ravine he had watched four companions die in a battle against the Daegmon. The scene was quiet now, just as it had been in the aftermath of that fight, but it was a different type of quiet. Despite the cold, the air felt heavy and brooding. He stopped and stared down the ravine. “The Daegmon,” he said aloud. “It is near here.” It didn’t dawn on him how much he sounded like Elynna until after he had spoken.
Prince Dhan looked around. A look of fear passed across his face. “Here? How do you know?”
Thimeon didn’t answer. A strange awareness had come upon him since he had read the ancient tome—as if he had grown closer to the life of Gondisle itself. He sensed a great tension building to the south, moving toward Mount Illengond like a rising tide. He wondered if this was how Elynna had felt. And if so, how she had borne it?
As he sat astride his horse looking down the ravine, Jhonna rode up beside him. “Are we near the village?”
It was the first Thimeon had heard her speak all day. He reached over and put his hand on hers. Her young face was pale and drawn. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I chose this,” she replied.
Thimeon was about to say more, when he noticed a change in the breeze. It carried the scent of smoke. He cringed at the smell, guessing from where it had come. Perhaps he was too late already. “Draw your weapons,” he called to the others. “We are minutes away, and I fear we will not enter the village without battle.”
Dhan looked ahead. He smelled the air also. “Smoke,” he commented. He looked at Thimeon and then down at his saddle. He removed the great blade he had carried since leaving Citadel. “You use this. I know nothing about its power.”
“It was not made for me,” Thimeon replied, but he took it anyway. Then he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and cantered along the trail. The last time he had taken this trail he had been tired and on foot.
The terrain flew past faster now. Somewhere to his right the secret trail led up to the hidden Sanctuary, but he did not slow. The smell of smoke grew stronger.
Soon they came around a bend in the mountain. Ahead of them, carved into the side of a high cliff, was the village of Gale Enebe. Under other circumstances, it would have been an awesome spectacle. Today he had no time to pause an admire it. Heavy black smoke billowed out of the windows and balconies, and an occasional tongue of fire licked the sky. The village, though made of rock, was in flames.
Staring aghast at the scene, they did not see the enemy right away. Thimeon spotted it before any of the others said anything. Circling in the air just in front of the cliff, fading in and out of the smoke, was the huge form of a Daegmon. A second later, Dhan’s low whistle revealed that he saw it too.
“Let the mountains fall on us,” Kayam mumbled. One by one, the rest of them saw the creature and drew back. Even the horses grew skittish. The Daegmon terror grew and Thimeon knew that fear would strike them all. He clung to the book at his side and fought his panic. “Do not flee,” he warned. “Terror is its greatest weapon. We must go on.”
He was about to urge his mount forward when another sight made his stomach drop farther. A second Daegmon perched on a huge rock face atop the cliff high above the village. He had never faced two of the creatures together. Even supported by Cane and Cathros, they had been barely strong enough to face one. And none of the gifted were here to help. What hope did they have?
Doubts welled up. He looked back down the trail. Maybe Dhan was right. There might be nothing they could do to help Gale Enebe unless they first found Cane and Cathros.
But then, at that very moment of his doubt, he heard Cathwain’s silent plea for help. Thimeon, you have come. He heard her voice clearly. She was somewhere in the village above, reaching out to him with her mind. I sensed you coming, but I fear you are too late. Where are the gifted ones?
“Can you hear me?” Thimeon said aloud. The others with him looked at him strangely. Thimeon ignored them. He concentrated his efforts on thinking. Can you hear me?
Your thoughts are foggy. Use my gift with me. Think about me.
Thimeon tried to picture the young woman in his mind. He remembered her long hair and simple dress—her enthusiasm and joy as she led them around the village and translated the speech of the Ceadani for the members of his company. He remembered her soft voice and the sadness in her eyes when she had visited the scene of the battle where his companions had fallen. To that picture, he directed his thoughts. Where are you? How can we help?
I hear you now. We hide deep within the walls. The outer part of the village is destroyed. They have penetrated far and set to flames everything that would burn. Even the stone has begun to crack and crumble before their relentless fire.
Thimeon took this information in. What of the Sanctuary?
They have taken that too. They came from above and defiled it.
He could hear now as clearly as if she sat behind him on his horse. He could taste her fear. Was she as aware of his fears as he was of hers? As he was of his own? Is there any other way out of the village? Can you escape?
No. None except past the Daegmon.
Thimeon closed his eyes, squeezing out tears. There was no other way to help her and her people except to go to her.
Gathering his own strength, he put aside his doubts. Then get your people ready. If there are any who can fight, prepare them to go up to the Sanctuary. We are going to come in.
43
FISH IN A NET
The enemy approached. It did not hurry. It could take its time and wait for help.
Cathros searched around for something he might wield, but it was futile. Elynna understood that now. She had known despair before—it had hounded her for months, since the day the Daegmon had attacked Lienford and killed her father. But never had the despair so overwhelmed her as at this moment. “Lyn told me it would end this way,” she mumbled. “I’ve brought you all here.”
“We came of our own,” Tienna replied. “There is no dishonor in this. Nor have we been defeated. If we had failed to fight, that would have been a defeat. It is not our part to win every battle, only to do what we can with the strength we have.”
/> The two furthest Daegmons were only a hundred yards away. They seemed to have grown in size. Looking at them, Elynna realized, as if for the first time, that no human might could ever defeat them. She lifted her head to the sky. Above the distant trees a dark blotch grew against the clouds. “Another Daegmon?” she wondered aloud. “Aren’t three enough?”
The others looked. The huge black shape flew across the sky straight toward them. Cathros opened his eyes wide and stared. “Not another Daegmon,” he muttered. “What could this mean?”
Several seconds passed, and then Elynna saw a huge flock of birds. They were dark and flew in an ever-shifting formation like starlings, but as they grew closer she saw a variety of birds ranging from great ravens to birds that were mere specks in the sky. Hummingbirds? As she watched, the birds did a most peculiar thing. The flock divided into three groups and dove straight toward the Daegmons.
The Daegmons were caught by surprise—she could feel it in their thoughts. They fell back and flung up their wings in defense as the army of birds besieged them. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. Each bird was a small fraction of the size of their foes, but together they formed a formidable mass.
The birds flew at the Daegmons’ eyes, pecked at their wings, and screeched in their ears. From a distance Elynna saw the Gaergaen raise its staff and send a burst of red flame into the sky, but it had no target to aim at. The bolt of red seemed to do no more damage than a stick would do to water. Though she was too far away to see its face, Elynna could sense the Gaergaen’s frustration and anger. Again it raised its staff, and a searing explosion of power erupted—not a bolt but a wave.
This time several birds fell to the ground, and Elynna feared the attack would end. But the rest of the birds continued. Several broke off and redirected their assault on the Gaergaen, who backed up cowering with hands over his head. The Daegmons, though in no grave danger, were frantic. Clearly, they had never faced such an attack.
For a moment, Elynna was so overcome by surprise and relief she could only stare in amazement. Though she still sensed the presence of her enemies, she felt their power—the pain of the malice directed at her—falter and break apart as they turned their attention to this new foe. Even as she realized this, she caught sight of a dark shadow at the edge of the woods. Before she even had time to wonder what it was, the shadow broke into many smaller shadows, and these shadows took form.
A whole host of woodland creatures charged out of the trees. There were six or seven great black bears, dozens of gray wolves, bobcats and lynxes, fishers and badgers. And leading them was the great tiger that had followed them all the way from the Plains. Gasps of awe rose from the companions who stood all around Elynna watching the same scene unfold. What was this new hope?
The Daegmons were just recovering from the birds when this new assault hit them. The Gaergaen went down almost at once beneath the largest of the bears, who slammed his torso and head with several crushing and mauling blows of his great paws. One of the Daegmons was down also—a great tiger and three bears upon its back. A pack of wolves surrounded the third Daegmon.
“Come,” came a loud voice from out of the woods on the other side. Elynna turned to see Noab and Noaem running toward them. “Come,” Noab called again as he approached. “Now is our only hope. Run.”
Elynna cast one more glance at the strange battle. Their enemies had all but disappeared under a mass of fur, feathers, and small claws. A burst of red flame and the Gaergaen was up again, somehow still alive despite wounds no human could have survived. But he was hard pressed by the sheer mass of the assault.
Noab and Noaem came to a halt at the side of the others, who, with Elynna, looked at the scene with relief and amazement. Noab scanned the company. His face showed a momentary relief at the sight of Anchara. Then his expression fell.
“Cane?” Noaem asked. “Where are the others?”
“Dead,” Elynna said. “Kayle, Alrew, and Pietr too.” She paused and looked at the blank faces of Keet and Hrevia. “Marti and Hruach were also killed.”
“We grieve their loss,” Noab said quickly. “But we cannot wait. The animals make a great sacrifice for us. Noaem called them. They will help us while they can, but they can only slow our foe. Even if they kill the Gaergaen, they cannot defeat the Daegmons. They only buy us time, and it will cost them dearly. We must depart.”
Even as Noab said this, a terrible roar filled the air. Elynna looked to see one of the Daegmons rise from beneath the hoard of animals. Its jaws held the limp form of one of the larger bears. The tiger leapt upon its back and the Daegmon dropped the bear, but it was too late. Noaem took a stride toward the battle, his face hot with a fierce anger, but then he stopped and turned away.
Elynna understood these creatures were offering the same sacrifice the Amanti had made. The same sacrifice many of the Uët warriors had made. She would not waste it. Noab was right. In the midst of battle, there was no time for grief. She called the others. “We must go,” she pleaded. “This is our chance.”
She looked into the faces of her companions. They were white and drawn, filled with grief or pain or fatigue. But she did not see the terror that had so often consumed them in the presence of the Daegmon. They were nodding, girding themselves. Preparing to make use of yet another sacrifice.
A minute later Elynna and her remaining companions fled eastward as fast as their wounded bodies would go. The sounds of battle raged behind them as they disappeared into the woods again, as they left their enemies behind.
Several hours later, as the sun peaked directly overhead, Elynna and Tienna finally called the company to stop for a rest. Their flight had carried them east and north all morning over rugged country toward Mount Illengond. Cathros, Bandor, Nahoon, and Namha, who were still young and strong and had suffered no injuries in the battle, had taken turns leading the way and plowing through the fresh powdery snow.
Elynna tried not to think about the dead they had left behind. The images of Cane, lying dead and broken while the Daegmon defiled his body. Cane, whom she had loved but who had not returned that love. Who would now never return that love. She could not afford grief.
Repeatedly she had refocused her attention on the effort to keep moving, pausing only briefly to search outward in her thoughts for pursuit. But they had left the pursuit behind—temporarily, Elynna knew. But it was a respite. Some eight or ten miles now separated them from the scene of the battle. Though Elynna sensed the faint burning smell of her enemies, she didn’t think any of them were within five miles.
She looked around. The forests lay quiet. There was no rumor of the atrocities they had left behind. Just the memory she could not shake loose.
They did not rest long—only long enough to drink from a stream and catch their breath. Then they ran on into the afternoon, stopping for brief rests only when necessary. All of them bore the looks of those stricken with grief, but none more so than Hrevia and Keet. Elynna wished she could speak words of comfort to them. Nonetheless, necessity pressed them onward. About two hours past noon, a flock of birds overtook them and flew eastward.
Noaem and Noab conferred for a minute in their own tongue, while Anchara listened. “The battle has ended,” then Noab announced ot the others. “Our enemies pursue us again, but the animals have done their job. Two of the Daegmons can no longer fly. The third has a wounded leg and can barely walk.”
The news brought tears of relief to Elynna’s eyes. She wiped them away but they did not stop flowing. Many of her companions had dropped to their knees. They too were crying.
“What of the animals?” Tienna asked.
Noab’s voice was full of sorrow. “Few walked away from the battle.”
“The tiger?” the huntress pressed her question. “I saw one enter the battle. Does it live?”
“The birds do not know for sure, but Noaem saw through one of the hawk’s eyes an image of the great cat cove
red with blood.”
Tienna nodded. They could do nothing for the animals, just as they could not help their own dead. And Elynna knew they dared not rest for long. Her companions must have concluded the same thing, for two or three minutes later, they began to rise. Cathros helped Hrevia to her feet. Tienna lifted Keet and put a comforting hand on his arm. A minute later they were moving again. Led now by Namha and Nahoon, they traveled northeastward, keeping to dense cover and glancing frequently over their shoulders. But Elynna did not sense their enemy nearby.
As night approached, fatigue overtook them. Despite the fear of what came behind, Elynna could barely move. She saw several others who were no better off. When the darkness and their own exhaustion made it too risky to travel across the dangerous terrain, Bandor found them a place to sleep in a sheltered hollow beneath a ledge. The air was still and cold. Thick icicles hung from the cliffs where springs seeped through cracks between layers of rock.
Elynna realized that only Noab and Noaem still had their packs. They had two blankets to share among them, plus a small amount of meat and one rope. At Bandor’s suggestion they divided the food but didn’t dare light a fire. Namha found a spring under a thin layer of ice. Sharing two water skins, they all got something to drink.
“Will you know if the creatures come?” Bandor asked Elynna.
I have always known. It was why she still carried guilt. But she answered yes.
“I do not trust Creagon,” Noab said. “His people betrayed us. We have more to fear than just the Daegmons and the one they call the Gaergaen.”
Tienna voiced her agreement and organized them into shifts to stand watch in pairs. Those not on watch got what sleep they could, huddled together under the two blankets. They did not speak.
Elynna tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her nerves still ached from so long in the presence of her enemy. She relieved Theo from his shift and sat watch with Bandor. When a wispy cloud drifted past the moon and cast a shadow on the snowy ground, Bandor pressed his body against the ledge, a fearful look on his face. But they saw no winged creatures that night. When her shift at watch ended, she went back to the mass of companions huddled beneath two blankets and pressed her back against Tienna’s warm body and fell asleep.
The Betrayed Page 42