Neron nodded and looked at his feet. "Why, that doesn't give us enough time to break down the camp," he said, suddenly looking up.
"We shall just have to leave it. Besides, there are a few who've decided not to go."
"That's madness! They'll all die."
"No doubt," said Faragher, "but we can't force them..."
"Why not? They'd see that it was for their own good sooner or later and be grateful."
"No they wouldn't. They'd find a way to resent it for the rest of their lives."
Neron looked up to see the pain on Faragher's face and merely nodded. "I'll go tell Nessa and the boys and help with the boarding of the ships," he said.
"Thank you."
The black night sky had taken on a faint deep purple as Gnydy tramped up the slope. He could hear the icky-icky frogs calling from the spring up by the Hooter Cave just beyond. "Ha!" he said, pausing to toss his head from side to side. "I'll proud-show Dyr for rear-end-firsting my-face in-front-of the brutes and hoo-hoo-flabber-toomphing. I'll-get the first-champ of grab-up-squeaker." On he went, very nearly to the top. "Humpf. Odd I smell-no yum-sniffs. I should. Why that-be? Maybe I-do."
Right away he saw the campfire and found that the spit had burnt in two, dropping Renny into the coals, so that all that was left were her charred bones. "Boof!" he hooted as the hair stood up on his arms. He wheeled this way and that to find two dead troll-brutes, two dead sows and one dead kid and no Elves. "Ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot!" he cried, beating his chest with his fists. He ran to the edge and peered down to see Dyr and the other brutes coming. He stood up grandly on a rock to drum his chest and begin again, "Ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot! Squeaker-meat burnt! Rree-gafi's head's burnt-off! Grab-up-squeakers, grab-up-squeakers, grab-up-squeakers all-gone!"
Dyr was there in short order to shove Gnydy off his rock onto the ground and take his place. "Ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot!" bellowed Dyr through his red beard full of teeth, "Gnydy!"
Gnydy looked sullen from beneath his beetle brow, down on his elbows.
"Gnydy!" roared Dyr.
"Ay-ooo..." cried Gnydy as he scrambled to his feet.
"Ay-ooo!" howled Dyr as he sprang up and down once to plant his feet and pummel his chest. "Dyrney-brutes!"
"Ay-ooo," cried the multitude before him down the slope as they began bobbing up and down, chanting, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
"Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo," cried Dyr before abruptly changing to, "Ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot..." as he sprang from the rock to land amongst his brutes to join their rhythmic jumping and chanting, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
Suddenly they all stopped dead still as Dyr drummed his chest once more. "When this come-up-sun night-sinks, we-will jump-bite the grab-up-squeakers and bite and cut and bite and cut them until they-beg to-burn before we head-smash them."
And with that there was a great stamping and roar of assent.
Chapter 3
It was now broad daylight as the Elves continued making their way along the side of the stream, listening to the bellbirds beginning their ringing calls far and wide throughout the tall dewy timber. The creek sparkled here and there from the first direct sunlight to find its way through the trees. Oisin bid everyone not to make undue noise as he led them into the cold water. They waded a short way downstream until they came to a tumbled pile of shale boulders which made up the bank on the far side. "Everybody follow me," he said before he clambered up onto the first black stones. "Just make certain that you don't string any telltale sand or mud out onto the rocks." Soon they were well away from the stream, wading through the last of the maidenhair ferns, back into deep shade.
"Why aren't we heading back to camp, Olloo?" said Kieran.
"Well, we have to make it as difficult as we can for the trolls who track us later..."
"Yea, but we're going straight south. We're not even going down the mountain anymore."
"No we aren't. Oisin's trying to get us to a safe campsite."
"I thought we were lost or something. I should've known better. So, do you know where he's taking us?"
"Why don't you ask him?" said Olloo as he thought: "Let Oisin be the one to announce that we'll never see anyone back at camp again."
"Well you've been talking to him more than I have. I just reckoned that you might know, is all."
Olloo paused to help Doona clamber over a huge fallen maidenhair. "Are you trying to get me to ask him?"
"Would you?"
"No!" he snapped. "Oh, I'm sorry Kieran. All right? I've just got my hands full with Doona, and I think that wherever Oisin is taking us, it'll be the best we can do. Why bother him?"
"I shouldn't, I suppose. Lilee's just wearing me out, is all. One thing, though. She's quit trying to run off every time she can yank out of my grasp. How's Doona?"
"Oisin is convinced that her soul will come back sooner or later, and I'm sure he knows what he's talking about, since he's been an apprentice healer since he was a lot younger than me."
It was a very long day on no sleep, endlessly trudging uphill and down dale, across the ridges of the hogbacks running down from the mountains. The bellbirds grew quiet just before noon and stayed that way throughout the heat of the day. By the time they had begun again with their ringing calls in the growing shadows, Olloo was stumbling from exhaustion, tripping on the sticks he kept kicking up between his ankles.
Suddenly there were shouts through the leaves from up ahead. "Ubh Ollmhor!" said Kieran. "Olloo, is that what they said?"
"I'm pretty sure."
Presently they came out of the trees to begin clambering over a maze of huge round boulders, piled every which way. Soon there was nothing to be seen of the woods at all as they climbed and scuffled around the rocks, with the summit of Mount Sliabh rising quickly into view.
"Where's everyone going?" said Kieran. "Are we spending the night in a ditch?”
"It sure looks that way," said Olloo, "and it's been looking like rain for some time."
"Look. It's a tunnel..."
"From here it looks as though we're going right into the foot of Mount Sliabh."
"At least it hasn't erupted any time during our lifetimes."
"And it probably won't for at least another night."
Dyr followed the Elf tracks to the creek where they vanished into the current. He gave a growling huff of exasperation, tramped up the bank to a big rock and clambered up on it. "Dyrney nyr-vyr-nirr-trad!" he roared as he hammered his chest with both fists. "Dyrney halt!" Again he pummeled his chest. "Dyr-jiny!" he bellowed.
Dyr-jiny, the right half of his body painted red ochre, the left half painted black, his hair caked with red mud, hurried to the rock with his talismans and ropes of beads a-dangle to plant his staff and began bobbing in time as he chanted, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
"Ay-ooo!" cried Dyr as he leaped into the air once and planted his feet to pummel his chest once more. "Gnydy!"
Gnydy jogged up and began leaping in time, crying, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
"Ay-ooo!" cried Dyr, leaping and drumming his chest. "Dyrney-brutes!"
Trolls came running from all directions out of the woods to leap and bob in time beside Dyr-jiny and Gnydy as they took up the chant, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
"Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo," chanted Dyr, suddenly changing to, "Ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot..." as he sprang off the rock to land beside Dyr-jiny and Gnydy and to leap up and down the highest of all as everyone chanted, "Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo..."
Suddenly they all froze as Dyr pummeled his chest, slinging spittle. "Kid-grab-up-squeakers katoomp-katoomp off into scurry-water here!" he cried, flinging his arm at the creek. "Dofan-ay-yr-pi! Fnad-ripf! Rre-gafi-ni-oow-fn!"
"Ay-ooo, ay-ooo, ay-ooo," cried the three, bouncing their shaggy heads in time above the crowd.
"You and you and you go-all-round!" cried Dyr, stirring the air over his head.
"Look-on no-see-side of tumble-rocks. Go-dow
n-stream. Find-where kid-grab-up-squeakers hee-hee-sneak. Go! Dyrney will juicy-champ them later. Meet-us at the endless eye-sting-water." Suddenly he furiously pounded his chest. "Dyrney-brutes!" he bellowed. "We-now-go jump-bite the big grab-up-squeaker-nest of skin-huts and float huts at the endless eye-sting-water! Follow me!" And with a wave of his spear, he set out in a loping run down the side of the mountain.
Gnydy stared at Dyr's back for a moment, then picked up his club and followed.
Fynlo sat on an empty keg in the sand down the beach from the quays and watched the twelve ships row away into the red sunset and vanish over the edge of the world. Terns swooped and dove at the water for their evening fish. Bellbirds giving their final calls of the day could be plainly heard all the way from the woods over the sounds of the lapping waves.
"How long have you been sitting here?" said Catreeney, gently putting her hand on his shoulder as she studied the horizon.
"A while."
"So, have you decided that we should've gone with them?" she said as he turned a haunted look to meet her sea-green eyes.
"No, we did right," he said with flat certainty. "It's 'way too soon to give up the younglings for lost when we don't even know that the Marfora Siofra captured them. Besides, we belong here."
"You truly believe that there's hope for them?"
"Neron could have found them if Faragher would only have given him enough time," he said as he put his arms around her. "That's what I believe."
Catreeney relaxed in his embrace and smiled. "Then," she said, "so do I."
Fynlo surrendered his keg to her and sped away to return at once with a keg of his own to plant in the sand against hers. He bowed grandly before her, seated himself and kissed her hand. They had always savored the seaside after sunset together. The first purple-rib of the evening began singing as if it had already been doing so for hours. As the last light faded, purple-ribs were calling from the woods all up and down the beach.
Catreeney nestled her head under his chin. A shivering owl called from the timber on the far side of the camp. She thought she heard a muffled pop in the sand behind them and lifted her head just as Dyr came down furiously with his club, completely smashing Fynlo's head. She sprang to her feet with a throat shredding scream only to have Dyr grab her and clap his meaty hand over her mouth. She bit him immediately and screamed again as he yanked away his hand.
"Veyf-nafan nip snaf vi-yaph-ny!" he woofed as he smacked her with his bitten hand, knocking her senseless. "When-will you mudful hollow-heads finally grovel-crawl and big-nod-see Dyrney be your thunder-thumps? Dyrney be everything's thunder-thumps since we crawl-out-of the ground. Arrdsey-phnyr-phey-fne said-so."
Sigurd sat bolt upright at the sound of Catreeny's screams. He gave his head a shake, threw back his covers and quietly slid his claymore out of its sheath. He held his breath, listening intently. He set down his sword for a moment and pulled on his breeches. Not certain that he was hearing his own noise or something outside, he eased his way out of his tent without bothering with his shirt or shoes. Before him stood a troll-brute, looking the other way. With one big step and a furious swing, the troll's head flew from his shoulders with a metallic ping and rolled into the side of a nearby tent.
At once, another troll stepped around the corner to see what the commotion was, just in time for Sigurd to run him through. The troll took an unexpected step back, yanking the sword clean out of his hands. Sigurd desperately grabbed for its dancing hilt in the blackness as the troll tottered and fell dead.
As he struggled to free his sword, he failed to see a third troll, who stepped up unseen and smashed both his kneecaps. The troll reared back with his club to make a killing blow only to drop it as an Elf ran him through from behind. "Sigurd?" shouted the Elf. "Is that my little brother?"
"Jamys?" came a pained grunt from under the fallen troll. "Thank the Fates!"
The tunnel into the foot of Mount Sliabh was darker than most of the children had ever experienced. None of them could make out anything at all except by bumping into each other and by groping along its clammy walls. It was not very big either. Most of the older children could easily touch the ceiling, and to make matters worse, it echoed like a sewer with the sounds of their walking, rather than like some spacious cavern, making them feel very trapped and closed in indeed.They were only children after all, and even though they had bravely tramped all day long, they began at once to complain. Meanwhile, Oisin was having uneasy ruminations about trolls. "They live in caves, after all," he thought, "and they probably could see perfectly well in here..."
"Hey," said Olloo, who was stumbling along right beside him. "Was that my eyes, or was that a flash of light? Did you see it?"
"Yea. I was hoping it wasn't just me."
"There. What is it?"
"Fire Sprites, if we're lucky. I don't think they'll hurt you. At least the ones I met once wouldn't..."
"That's not very comforting."
"Actually it is," said Oisin. "I'm not sure I would have brought us here at all unless there was a good chance that they were here to help us. I was in here on a dare years ago and met them. They were as frightened of us as we were of them."
"So they speak our language?"
"No, but they can read what you're thinking at the same time that they put their thoughts into your heart."
"I see. Like the terraing pictiur."
"Not quite. I don't think you need a special gift, as you must have with picture catcher unicorns, and they speak with words instead of pictures. And here they come..."
With a wave of gasps, the Elves froze in shocked silence as a radiantly glowing head furtively peeped at them from beyond a bend in the tunnel and darted out of sight. Directly, it peeked at them again, withdrew for a moment and then stepped lightly into plain sight, cautiously coming forth, lighting the tunnel bright as midday.
Before them stood a little woman, half as tall as they, giving off such a brilliant yellow light that they could not quite make out the features of her face, though they could plainly make out her pointed ears. "What are you?" she thought in Olloo's head.
"My word," said Olloo. "I'm an Elf."
"Peace, Olloo," thought the Sprite as she paused to come at Olloo and Doona as if she were sniffing them.
"How do you know my name?" said Olloo, jerking back to keep from being burnt.
"By the same means which you hear my thoughts. And by the way, you've nothing to fear. I'm as cold as you are. My eldest sister has told me many times about finding an Elf in this tube years and years ago. Is this girl your sister? What became of her soul? I can't find her name or any of her thoughts at all."
"She's Doona. She is indeed my sister, and her soul was frightened clean out of her by the trolls."
"Is that why you're here, to flee the Elf Killers? I pray you've not brought them in behind you."
"That would be awful."
"But something to keep in mind. They've been known to kidnap us, and this is our home, after all..."
"What happens when the vulcan mountain shakes and spews out burning rock?"
"We don't discuss it..." she thought firmly.
"So what's your name?" said Olloo.
"Well I wasn't withholding it, but since you're still babbling your incomprehensible tongue, I can see that you don't know how to simply reach in for it," she thought. "I've always been called Alvina."
"Do you have a language?”
"Of course, but we seldom use it except to sing, and you certainly wouldn't understand it."
"Alvina," said Oisin, who had been allowed to hear her thoughts from the start, "Would you know of a Fire Sprite by the name of Radella?"
"She's the elder sister I was thinking about for Olloo," thought Alvina.
"Then I be the very Elf she met in this tunnel..."
"Ha!" came a very different thought. "I thought so." And with that, a larger woman Sprite, who burnt with a more yellow flame tinged with pink, stepped into view. "I'm Radella... My, Oisin. I
remember you being much smaller."
Oisin was surprised and quite relieved to feel her great pleasure at seeing him being planted in his mind.
"How do those things keep from burning up?” said Mian.
"What keeps you from freezing, Mian?" thought Alvina in Mian's head.
Mian grabbed at his ears with a start. "What happens if I touch you?"
"The same thing which happens when you touch a firefly."
"Come," thought Radella in everyone's head as she stood with her outstretched arms, filling the tunnel with a sudden flash of violet aura. "Follow us to the great pocket in a nearby tube which has water and even a fine new crop of mushrooms where you can refresh yourselves and spend the night in safety and comfort. Once you have rested we'll take you to the surface so that you'll not be trapped by the trolls."
Sigurd grimaced from time to time as he lay staring at the shadows dancing up the canvass in the candlelight while Edard, the only healer who had stayed behind, squinted and peered at his broken knees. "How many of us survived the raid, Jamys?" he said with a wince.
"How would I know?" said Jamys, pausing to lean forward and spit into a broken pitcher. "I spent the whole time keeping the curses off you long enough to get you in here and go for Edard. Just calm down. You'll know soon enough..."
"Nine men, two women and three children are laid out in a row, just outside," said Edard as he squinted at the knee he was bathing out of a pan, "along with twenty-two dead troll, stretched out alongside. But the monsters set alight three tents and made off with five men, six women and seven children. That only leaves twenty-seven of us by my reckoning..."
"Was there anyone in this whole place with enough sense to even ask if it mightn't be wise for us to flee this Fates forsaken place before dark, or at least suggest that someone stand guard?" said Sigurd, lunging up onto an elbow.
"Hey," said Edard, shoving him flat.
"Well I sure as the Pit didn't think of it," he said with another wince as Edard repositioned his ankle. "But believe you me, if we mean to survive another night, we'd best get off the beach and find a good hiding place before sunset, tomorrow."
Elf Killers Page 3