Jayson sat up, winced as he tried to use his mangled arm, then brought it closer to the lantern light. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Blood stained his sleeve, seeping sluggishly from several ragged cuts and the jagged curve of the bite mark, but none of the cuts were dangerous. They stung when he moved his arm, but he’d recover.
Something darker stained one side of his shirt though. He frowned down at it, touched it with one finger and felt his skin burn at the touch.
“What is it?”
“Blood,” Jayson said, wiping it off on the bottom of his shirt. “From that thing. I must have cut it when I swung at it with the knife.”
The undergrowth rustled and they both lurched upright, Corim brandishing his branch, Jayson the knife. But the noise receded. Jayson scrambled to his feet as something skittered across the lane just outside the light of the lanterns, followed by two more on the other side.
“Holy Diermani preserve us,” Jayson muttered, eyes wide, his gut clenching so tight he thought he’d piss his pants. “There’s more of them.”
“And they’re headed toward the village.”
Jayson stared at Corim in shocked silence, then whispered. “Lianne.”
He snatched up the lantern and began to run. Corim’s harsh breath followed him. Jayson’s feet pounded into the earth, his own breath tight and constricted in his chest as the forest of the lane flashed past, shadows and trees juddering wildly in the swinging light. A chittering sound surrounded them, punctuated by harsh hisses, a few shapes darting in and out of the light through the underbrush, as if tracking them, but Jayson didn’t pause. He burst from the lane onto the hard-packed, flatter roadway, tripped, and fell to the ground with a curse. Corim caught up to him as he regained his feet.
Then a gust of wind brought the thick stench of smoke and he stilled.
Ahead, lurid against the black silhouette of the trees, a fire raged. A horse’s scream pierced the air and abruptly cut off, but in the stillness that followed he picked out different sounds: faint shouts, the harsh baying of a dog, the clash of weapons, and as a backdrop to it all, the low, rushing sound of flames roaring into the night.
The wind shifted again, blowing black smoke across the road. He choked on it, on the oily soot and hot ash that stung the skin of his face. Coughing, he hunched forward, his wounded arm coming up in a vain attempt to shield himself.
Beside him, he heard Corim suck in a ragged breath. “Ma!” he cried out.
The youth leaped forward, but Jayson snagged him by the arm and jerked him back. Corim nearly slipped from his grasp, but Jayson tightened his grip, hard enough to bruise. “Corim!” he growled, and shook the boy. “Corim, stop! Look!”
Corim turned on him, the look of panic and horror sending a dagger into Jayson’s heart. The same sick nausea roiled in his own stomach as he thought of Lianne, of her silver-shot brown hair, hazel eyes, and smooth cheeks that dimpled when she laughed. But he swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat and forced Corim to meet his eyes.
“Look,” he repeated, and nodded toward the road in the direction of the fires.
Corim twisted in Jayson’s grip to look back over his shoulder.
At the horse’s scream—Holy Diermani, Jayson prayed it had been a horse—the chittering in the forest had fallen silent. But the creatures hadn’t left. In the shadows beneath the trees, made pitch-black by the red-orange blaze where Gray’s Kill burned, pale yellow eyes glowed in the reflected light of their lanterns. He counted half a dozen pairs between them and the village. But even as he watched, more shifted to the edge of the road.
A pack. They had been tracking them, and calling in the rest of their group.
In his grip, Corim tensed and a small whimper escaped the boy. Jayson’s gaze flicked toward the burning village, his mouth suddenly dry with fear, but he couldn’t risk Corim. The boy had been entrusted to him by the youth’s parents.
A dozen of the creatures now gathered at the edge of the road, and they were moving closer. Jayson didn’t know what held them back—the light from their lantern or if they were waiting for greater numbers—but he didn’t want to linger to find out.
“The barge,” he murmured, backing up, drawing Corim with him. The boy resisted a moment, straining toward Gray’s Kill, toward his home, as Jayson’s heart yearned to seek out Lianne, but then the boy relented. Jayson nearly choked with relief. Voice thick, he said, “We’re going to run for it, straight to the river, no stopping, no matter what. Understand?”
Without taking his eyes off the creatures in the forest, Corim nodded. Another shift in the wind and a hot blast of smoke skated across the road, obscuring the creatures from sight.
“Go!” Jayson barked, dragging Corim around and thrusting him in the opposite direction, away from the raging inferno of Gray’s Kill. The youth cried out, stumbled but caught himself, and then they were both tearing down the darkened road, Jayson holding his lantern high, his other hand clutching desperately at the knife. His satchel slammed against his side, his legs already burning, but he pushed himself harder. Behind, he heard a sharp hiss and the sudden crackle of underbrush and swore beneath his breath, but he didn’t turn to look. When Corim slowed and tried to glance back, Jayson gasped, “Run!” and gestured with his knife hand.
Whatever Corim saw made his eyes flare wide and then he raced ahead, outpacing Jayson. He caught one of the creatures out of the corner of his eye, lithe and black in the swaying lantern light, racing him along the edge of the road. It bared its needlelike fangs and dodged toward him.
Jayson cried out and flailed with his knife, hitting the creature and knocking it to one side, but not before its claws dug into his calf, shredding his breeches and drawing three slashes down his leg as it fell away. Pain lanced up into Jayson’s gut, even as two more of the creatures raced out before him on the other side. Corim was already twenty paces ahead, and Jayson shouted, “Get on the barge and untie it! Don’t wait for me!”
Corim didn’t acknowledge him, merely gained another five paces as Jayson lagged, blood flowing freely down his calf. His breath tore at his lungs. His heart shuddered in his chest. Every fiber of his body trembled with exhaustion, tingling with spent adrenaline.
Corim rounded the last bend in the road, the creatures shrieking as they bounded in to cut him off. But they hadn’t gained enough on the boy. Jayson heard Corim’s feet thundering on the wooden planks of the dock, then rounded the curve, the sound of the river suddenly loud, breaking through the pounding of Jayson’s heart in his ears and his heaving breath. He caught Corim frantically untying the barge, the guiding rope tied to the small dock arching down and out into the darkness, the river glinting with lantern light.
The two creatures were charging the dock.
With a roar, Jayson flung himself forward, dropping his lantern as he reached for them, swinging with his knife. His blade sank into the flesh of one, its scream shattering the rush of the water, the creature scrambling away to one side. His hand closed about the leg of the other even as his body slammed into the ground.
He rolled, his roar cut off with the impact, grappling with the creature as it twisted in his grip and snapped at his face. The dirt from the road gave way to the wood planking of the dock as he brought his knife around, slicing down the creature’s back. It hissed as black blood splattered onto Jayson’s face, burning, but Jayson slashed again and again, striking the creature with each blow. It shrieked and then fell to the dock beside him, struggling weakly. He kicked it hard, watched it roll off the wood to splash into the river, leaving a trail of blood behind it, and then Jayson staggered to his feet.
The other creature he’d stabbed as he fell writhed on the sloped bank, a harsh keening filling the night. Others had emerged from the forest and were milling about just outside of the spill of the dropped lantern. Jayson counted at least ten, their eyes glaring in the darkness as they leaped forward and hissed before retreating.
He could feel the creatures watching him, his skin prickling beneath their gazes, beneath their hatred. They seemed wary of the flames.
Or the water.
Someone snagged at his shirt. He lurched to one side before realizing it must be Corim.
“It’s untied,” the youth said, voice shaking. “Let’s go!”
Jayson nodded and pushed him toward the barge, keeping his eyes on the creatures. They screamed and grew frenzied as the two climbed into the bottom of the barge, Corim already pulling on the rope to draw them away from the dock and out into the river’s current.
Then, suddenly, all of the creatures on the bank stilled, heads turning toward the left side of the road. A few traded glances, their large, luminous eyes narrowed—
As abruptly as they’d appeared, they vanished, slinking back into the shadows beyond the light of the torch.
“Wait,” Jayson said, creeping forward in the barge. “Don’t pull us any farther out.”
“But—” Corim protested, the single word fraught with fear.
“They’re leaving.”
Jayson felt the barge rock as Corim shifted forward, his hand still on the guiding rope. The youth crouched down beside him. Exhaustion shuddered through him, and Jayson’s calf throbbed with pain, but he still reached out a reassuring hand and gripped Corim’s shoulder.
They watched the end of the dock and the roadway beyond, the light from the abandoned lantern flickering and threatening to go out. Far distant, over the tops of the trees, the glare of another fire pulsed against a thick column of billowing smoke.
Jayson’s heart had just begun to calm, the sweat on his skin cooling in the night air, when a branch cracked in the forest to the left. His muscles twinged as he started. Corim gasped.
He raised the knife before him, blade out.
Five figures emerged onto the roadway into the edge of the fading light from Jayson’s lantern and it took a moment before Jayson recognized them as dwarren. Half the height of either Jayson or Corim, they plowed through the underbrush, chopping at it with axes and short blades. Their beards were woven and braided with beads and feathers and pendants, their arms covered in metal bands, bodies with thick leather armor scored with patterns and whorls. Two of them carried long spears, the shafts etched with carvings, the tips shaped metal, like a rounded leaf.
The dwarren halted in the roadway, the leader of the group staring hard at the lantern, the body of the creature that now lay still, and Jayson, ignoring Corim completely. The pure hatred in the dwarren’s eyes, the sheer intensity of the emotion and the determination that bled from the dwarren’s body, left Jayson speechless.
The leader waved to the rest of the band, the gesture dismissive. The other four plowed into the forest on the far side of the road, the leader hanging back a moment, keeping his eye on Jayson. Then he vanished as well with a rustle of undergrowth and the dry snapping of branches.
Jayson didn’t move until Corim touched his arm.
“Those were dwarren,” the boy said.
“I know.” Jayson forced himself to relax, to lower his knife. He turned and grabbed the rope, the flat boat rocking at his movements, their only remaining lantern guttering in protest.
“They were headed toward the village.”
“I know!” Jayson spat. Without another word he hauled on the rope that connected this side of the river to the other. The rope sang as it pulled through the metal rings attached to each end of the barge, the wooden slats creaking as they moved farther away from the dock and into the river’s current. But the rope held. The current wasn’t strong enough here to make the crossing difficult, especially when the barge wasn’t laden down with supplies or horses.
“What do you think they were—?”
“I don’t know!”
Corim fell silent, his eyes wide.
When Jayson judged they were halfway across, he stopped. Shifting to the center of the barge, near the lantern, he squatted down, rubbed his hands together briskly, and blew on them for warmth. The night had turned chill. Corim joined him a moment later. They couldn’t see either side of the river; the lantern Jayson had dropped had burned out. The rope arched out into darkness on either side, the surface of the river glinting in ripples all around. The moon—barely more than a sliver—had risen above the surrounding hills, but it cast little light. The air was thick with the scent of water and smoke, and both Corim and Jayson reeked of fear sweat. Jayson could taste ash in his mouth.
A long, silent moment later, Corim asked tentatively, “What are we going to do?”
Jayson said nothing, breathing in steadily, slowly, to calm himself, thinking about the creatures, of Lianne and the dwarren. He thought of the fire—at least three of the main buildings in Gray’s Kill were burning, probably more—and the sounds of fighting. The village had been attacked. He didn’t know why, or by whom, didn’t know what those creatures were, but the dwarren were here. He’d seen them, clear as day.
Cobble Kill lay a day’s ride distant, and it housed a barracks of the Legion.
But Lianne. And Corim’s parents.…
He was Corim’s guardian now, until they knew what had happened to the boy’s parents.
Reluctantly, he said, “We have to go to Cobble Kill. GreatLord Kobel needs to know what has happened here.”
“I never realized the dwarren tunnels were so… extensive.”
Colin glanced up from removing the satchels and saddle packs from his horse to where Eraeth stood, staring out over the wide cavern the dwarren had chosen as a resting area. Unlike the chambers where the dwarren lived, this cavern was long and wide, the ceiling low, perhaps twice as high as Eraeth was tall. The river surged through the chamber in a deep channel to the right of where they’d entered, glinting with torchlight as the army of dwarren warriors began unpacking their camp. At the front of the combined army, one of the dwarren had removed a drum and beat out a steady rhythm into the mouth of the next tunnel, announcing their position, the information being passed down the way stations between them and the Confluence.
Two days before, they’d been joined by another large group of dwarren, the size of the army nearly doubling. At first, Colin had thought they came from one of the other clans, but as the new warriors dispersed, he realized they had merely been reinforcements for the three clans that were already part of the group.
It unsettled him. He wondered how many dwarren were being called to this Gathering, and to what purpose.
He shoved his speculations aside. He’d done nothing but ponder the possibilities during the ride so far and had come to no solid conclusions. He didn’t have enough information, and he wouldn’t get that information until they reached the Confluence. None of the clan chiefs or the head shamans knew anything beyond what they’d told him in the keeva, or they were unwilling to share their information if they had it. The fact that he knew nothing had nearly driven him to abandon the dwarren and Eraeth and Siobhaen altogether and use his powers to reach the Confluence ahead of them, but he’d resisted.
Besides, there was something he needed to do here.
“The dwarren tunnels run beneath the entire length of the plains,” he said in answer to Eraeth’s unasked question. “From the Escarpment all the way to the edges of the Thalloran Wasteland, from the mountains to the north to the Flats in the south. They have controlled them for generations, so long that they’ve lost count.”
Eraeth turned aside from his perusal of the dwarren as they methodically settled in to rest, the smells of a hundred cook fires beginning to fill the room. Colin’s stomach growled, but he ignored it.
“Did the dwarren build them?”
“No,” Colin said with a smile. “According to their legends, they were given the network of chambers and corridors by their gods, so that they could oversee the preservation of the Lands above and so they could protect the Sacred Waters. As far as I can surmise based on their histories, they have done so for well over two thousand years, but it’s hard to j
udge.”
“So they believe their gods built it for them?” Siobhaen said with a touch of derision.
“Of course,” Colin said. He frowned down at the contents of the satchel in his hands. He didn’t think he’d need much for his excursion, knew that most of what he had brought would be useless. He shrugged and cinched the satchel tightly, throwing it over one shoulder.
Eraeth was suddenly at his side. “Where are you going?”
He met the Protector’s frown. “I need to speak to the Faelehgre… and to the forest.”
“And were you going to tell us you were leaving?”
Colin turned in surprise as Siobhaen stepped up behind Eraeth. Both of them gave him a nearly identical look of anger. They barely spoke to each other on good days, but in this they were united? He shook his head. “I’ll be back before the dwarren rouse themselves and continue on.”
“That’s not the point,” Eraeth said.
“One of us should be with you,” Siobhaen added.
Eraeth nodded. “That was the whole point in having us accompany you.”
Colin glanced back and forth between them, eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. But no, there was still a tension between the two, an unspoken distrust. They simply both agreed, grudgingly, that he shouldn’t be traveling alone.
He sighed, focusing on Eraeth. “You can’t come with me. I don’t want to leave the dwarren army, and I have to travel too far to take either of you with me.” He let his voice harden. “I’m going to Terra’nor and the Well, that’s all. I’ll be gone at most a few hours.”
Siobhaen frowned in confusion. “You know where we are? How? I lost any sense of direction the moment we were taken underground.”
“I can sense the Well,” Colin said, not looking away from Eraeth. The Protector’s eyes searched his own. “We’re beneath the Ostraell, have been for the past day or so. We’re in the domain of the Faelehgre and within the bounds of the Seasonal Trees—the Summer Tree actually. I’ll be protected.”
Eraeth considered a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well.”
Leaves of Flame Page 24