The shadow loomed larger as its maker approached the cliff. There was something else here, something hidden. A hand reached forward and caressed the rough stone. Yes, hidden, secret.
So, the boy had left Ledge Hall with the NiDemon. The hand withdrew. Caution was in order. Now he, too, would have to remain hidden and until the time was right.
Quickly the shadow withdrew as its owner resumed the hunt. Not far now. Not far to Drexhage Hollow. With any luck he would overtake them at the Hollow.
Chapter VIII
Drexhage Hollow
The morning passed slowly, and no one spoke a word. The terrain between the steep hills proved difficult for the horses, all stones and bracken. They wound their way along the river for several hours, sometimes crossing it where the current allowed to travel its opposite bank.
Always they rode east, the sun hot and blinding on their faces. Often Pedustil flew ahead, returning to swoop at them in jest, scaring the horses and earning sharp rebukes from Bulcrist. Several times the Gorgul returned with small game in his jaws, rabbits mostly, and would land with a splash in the river where he swallowed his snack down whole. Windy would turn in disgust. Bulcrist would shake his head. Ilien found it amusing, especially when Pedustil flicked water at them with his tail.
They ate lunch on horseback, and Bulcrist was true to his word. The food was far better than Awefull. Dried fruits, fresh bread, a few leftover sausages and water. Ilien nibbled his way along. He wasn't very hungry after the large breakfast they'd eaten, and his mind began to fill with questions again. He tried his best not to think too hard, not to worry, but it was useless. They were on their way to meet the Witch Queen, and Ilien knew too little of what Bulcrist was planning, how they would rescue Gallund or even where they were going.
Ilien admired the Nihilic sword strapped to his saddle. Its polished blade flashed in the sunlight. He didn't trust the sword. It made him nervous, like it was a half-tamed animal that might snap at him without warning. Bulcrist said the sword would help him learn Nihilic. If only Bulcrist would teach him something.
"Your lessons will begin tonight!" Bulcrist called back to him.
Ilien scowled. He would have to keep his thoughts in check. He glanced at Windy. She stared back at him. "What?" he asked, annoyed.
"You were thinking about learning Nihilic."
"So," replied Ilien, turning away. He didn't need to explain anything to Windy. He wasn't going to apologize, either. He was growing tired of her griping about the subject. He would learn Nihilic to save his father. Period.
"Ilien, I can read your mind."
Ilien looked at her skeptically.
"I heard your thoughts," she said. "You were worried about rescuing Gallund, and thinking you didn't know where you were going."
Ilien raised an eyebrow. "What am I thinking now?"
Windy closed her eyes in concentration. Her eyes flew open and she glared at Ilien. "You're impossible!" she said, and spurred her horse forward.
Near dusk, after crisscrossing the river a dozen times and stopping only once to remove a rock from one of the horse's shoes, the weary travelers found themselves navigating a steep ravine between boulder strewn hills. They had left the river behind. The relative quiet of the canyon was a welcome respite from the constant roar of the water. They followed the rocky combe as it wound between the hills and twilight settled around them. Pedustil sailed on the air currents above, now and then landing on a hill to wait for them. It wasn't long before the dull rumble of the river returned, rising from the shadows in the distance as it turned to cross their path again.
"We'll camp here for the night," announced Bulcrist, dismounting. Ilien regarded their campsite with disdain. Though they each had blankets, he didn't relish sleeping on a bed of rocks for the night. He climbed from his horse as Pedustil landed on a boulder nearby.
"What about the foodstore?" said Ilien, pulling the last of the dried fruit from his pack. "You said we would reach one by supper."
Bulcrist tethered his mount to a bent and stunted bush. "I did," he replied. "Can you find it I wonder?"
Both Windy and Ilien searched the area, but they saw no hidden cache of food and supplies. "It must be concealed with magic," said Windy. She squinted hard and studied the rocky slopes and broken boulders around them. She sighed and frowned, casting a withered look at Ilien.
Ilien couldn't find it either. Unlike at Ledge Hall when he had discovered the hidden front gates without trying, he felt suddenly powerless.
"I wonder if this will help," said Windy as she pulled the pouch holding the wutzit stone from her pocket.
"Princess!" shouted Bulcrist. "I warned you not to use the stone lightly. It was not made as a trifle. Put it away."
Windy held the pouch in her hand, frowning at the NiDemon's rebuke. "What good is a magical talisman if you don't know when to use it?" she asked.
"The time will come," said Bulcrist. "Be patient."
Windy stuffed the pouch in her pocket.
"The sword," said Ilien. "The sword will help." He unstrapped it from his saddle and held it aloft, looking for signs of the secreted foodshare. Night was closing in and the shadows deepened. He could see nothing.
"It will bring understanding, Ilien," said Bulcrist, "not miracles."
Understanding? Yes, like his pencil. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He tried to contact the sword as he would his wand. He met no resistance, no icy wall as he had when he tried to read Bulcrist's mind earlier, but he felt no connection either. Are you there? he thought.
"Evidently not," replied Windy, raising an eyebrow and turning away.
Pedustil's gills hissed with escaping steam. Bulcrist waited patiently.
Ilien probed further without success. He was about to give up when his mind filled with panic. He couldn't breath. He was drowning and he couldn't breath! He struggled to open his eyes but couldn't. He stood frozen, the Nihilic sword raised in his clenched fist. Panic gave way to horror as the image of a leering face flashed before his unseeing eyes. Golden hair. Broad set eyes that bored into him. It was the shade from his nightmare! The Nephalim! He fought to turn from its gaze. The face drew closer. He could smell its fetid breath. He heard it say again, Your son. You didn't know? He died at Drexhage Hollow. I slew him myself.
Ilien cried out. His sword flashed in the darkness. He fell to the ground as the image melted away, his blade falling from his grasp and clanging amidst the stones.
Windy flew to his side. "Ilien! What's wrong?"
Pedustil shed light on Ilien with the glow of his eyes. The NiDemon examined his apprentice carefully. "Lie still," he bade. He placed a hand on Ilien's forehead. His eyes grew wide. "You have scryed."
"Scryed?" said Windy.
"I saw the Nephalim," said Ilien, "the Nephalim from my dream."
Bulcrist pulled his hand from Ilien's forehead as if it were a hot coal. "You have scryed a Nephalim before?"
"If you mean have I seen it in my dreams, yes. Many times."
Bulcrist stepped back a pace and stood lost in thought. Ilien sat up slowly. His head thrummed, and his elbow was bleeding. When Bulcrist turned back he looked grim. "If you scryed a Nephalim, then it has scryed you. You must tell me your dream in its entirety, for you are in danger. We are all in danger."
With a wave of his hand, the hidden foodstore became visible. The mouth of a natural cave opened in the side of the hill nearest them. "Come. Everyone inside. Bring the horses. And Ilien, retrieve your sword. Leave no trace of our passage. Pedustil—"
"I know," replied the Gorgul. He leapt into the air, beat his powerful wings and was gone.
Bulcrist ushered them into the cave. With a word he concealed the entrance and they stumbled into the blackness, the horses tugging at their leads and protesting loudly. Bulcrist called for a halt. A rune flashed in the dark and a pale light sprang up, dimly illuminating the cave.
The foodshare was spacious, with room for the horses in one corner, and a place to sit in
the other. Earthen vessels were stacked along one wall, with jugs of drink and a few sacks of grain nearby. Bulcrist ignored the provisions and sat on a large stone, gesturing for the others to do likewise.
"Speak quietly," he warned. "A Nephalim can see through my concealing spell if it knows where to look."
Windy and Ilien sat side by side, glancing toward the mouth of the cave. Ilien eyed his sword where he'd left it, strapped to his saddle. Bulcrist dimmed his magical light until only their outlines were visible in the gloom.
"If you have scryed a Nephalim, then the Witch Queen has opened the forbidden Crossing," said the NiDemon. His red eyes shone like two hot coins in the dark.
The second Crossing to the world of banished spirits! The Crossing to hell itself! "But you said only a Nomadin could open the second Crossing," said Ilien. "Gallund would never—"
"Then he has been forced to do so," continued Bulcrist, "or will be forced to do so. The fact remains that you have scryed a Nephalim. Such visions are never wrong. If you have seen a son of Gog, then the Crossing is either open already or will be soon."
"It was only a dream," said Windy.
Bulcrist rose, put a finger to his lips, and crept back toward the cave mouth, listening. He returned to his seat, his eyes glowing more fiercely. "It was not a dream that the sword revealed. It was a warning. Ilien, you must tell me everything. Leave nothing out."
Ilien related his recurring nightmare. The NiDemon listened patiently, but frowned when Ilien told him of the Gorgul's demise. Ilien told of Gallund's doom, and Windy gasped. When Ilien finished, the cave fell hushed.
"A scry is never an easy thing to decipher," said Bulcrist. "Not only is it possible to scry the future, it is likely that threads of the past and present get woven in the loom as well, making it difficult to determine the when of things. I believe what you saw was the future. The forbidden Crossing is not yet open, but it will be."
"Then my father will die, no matter how I try to save him," said Ilien.
"Yes," replied Bulcrist, "if you saw him die in your dream."
Ilien thought for a moment. He hadn't seen Gallund die, not really. Hope sprang within him again, a hope against hope. "I always woke from the dream in a sweat. I never saw Gallund die." Ilien fell silent, and his relief slipped away. He hadn't told Bulcrist everything. Bulcrist didn't know of the Nephalim's final words concerning Ilien himself.
"Then he may live," said the NiDemon. "Nomadin are made of tougher stuff than you know."
"How do you know that his vision is of the future?" asked Windy.
"Because in his vision Pedustil is killed, and Pedustil is still with us. What Ilien saw has not yet come to pass. But it will. The question is when."
Ilien looked away.
"You have told me everything?" said Bulcrist.
"Everything but this." Ilien was afraid to tell him, as if saying the words might make the dream come true at that very moment, there in the cave.
"Ilien," pressed Bulcrist. "You must tell me everything."
"Don't you know already?" said Ilien. "You know everything else that goes on in my mind."
"No one can see what another has scryed, unless they are part of the vision as well. Tell me. What else did you see?"
Ilien met Bulcrist's hot eyes in the dark. "Before the end, after the Nephalim defeated my father, it told him—"
"What is it?" urged Windy.
Ilien's face showed white in the dim light. "I'm dead, Windy. The Nephalim kills me. He kills me at a place called Drexhage Hollow."
Bulcrist shot to his feet. The horses startled and huddled in the corner. "Ilien! We are in Drexhage Hollow!"
Windy stood. "We must leave, turn around and go the other way!" Her shout echoed loudly in the cave. The horses stamped their feet. Bulcrist raised his hands, imploring Windy to be quiet.
"Sshh! You will be heard!"
Windy stood shaking in the middle of the foodshare.
Ilien sat frozen. "I'm dead then," he said.
"You are not dead yet," replied the NiDemon. "I said that visions such as this are never wrong, but they are often misleading. You may know the place of your death, but not the when. Do not leave the foodshare tonight. I will keep watch with Pedustil. Keep your sword at the ready. And princess, remember my gift. If the Nephalim comes, we must be ready." He strode out of the foodshare, leaving the pale light of his magic behind.
Windy fumbled in her pocket and withdrew the pouch containing the wutzit stone. She held it fast without opening it. Ilien remained seated, eyeing his sword.
"Ilien. Your sword. You heard Bulcrist."
Ilien sat still as stone in the dim light. "It frightens me, Windy."
"More than that creature?"
"In a way. What if it shows me the Nephalim again? What if the Nephalim sees me too? It'll give us away."
The cave was silent. Not a sound came from outside. "It showed you only a memory of what you saw before," said Windy. "The Nephalim won't see you. A memory cannot hurt you."
It could, and had every time he relived the dream in his mind. "The memory of that nightmare hurts more than you know." Yet Windy was right. The sword revealed a warning, nothing more. It would not give them away. He rose and walked to his horse. The sword glinted dully in the gloom. If a Nephalim was loose, and the second Crossing was open already, he would need the power of the sword to aid him. He steeled himself and reached for the blade.
A clamor arose outside the cave. Crashing stones, a harsh shout, then Bulcrist burst into the cave, his shadow like a falling black net upon the walls.
"It's out there!" he breathed. "I sensed a presence enter the ravine. Pedustil flew down to tell me he'd seen a hulking shadow. The Nephalim is coming."
"What should we do?" asked Windy, clutching the wutzit stone pouch to her chest.
"We must fight," replied the NiDemon.
Ilien yanked his sword from his saddle. He felt no surge of power, no overwhelming visions, only cold hard steel.
"No, Ilien," said Bulcrist. "It has come for you. You and Windy must remain here. Pedustil and I will face this shadow."
"I will not stand here and idly await my death!" shouted Ilien.
Bulcrist rushed forward and knocked Ilien to the ground. Ilien's sword flew from his grasp. "This is not a contest of wills," fumed Bulcrist. "This is a fight for warriors, not children." Ilien looked to his sword, several feet away. "You will stay here or I will slay you myself."
Ilien scrambled to retrieve his sword. He held it in numb fingers, nodding mutely. Windy rushed to his side.
Bulcrist threw back his cloak, revealing a long thin sword. "Do not fear, Ilien Woodhill. You will not die tonight." He turned and strode from the cave.
Windy huddled close to Ilien, but Ilien pulled away. "I will not die without a fight," he said.
He paced the width of the cave, anger burning in him at his helplessness. He didn't care about the unchangeable future. The future was here and now. He swung his sword in fury through the air. It struck the cave wall and sliced through the stone without effort. He stared at the neat cut in the rock, then ran his shaking hands over it. He examined the blade. Its tip glowed as if it had been stoked in a bellows, yet it felt cool to his touch. With a shout, he lunged the sword into the cave's impenetrable wall up to its hilt. When he withdrew it from the stone, the length of the blade shined fiercely, illuminating his face in a bloody light
"I will not stand here and wait," he said, turning to Windy. "The Nephalim will not find me hiding in a cave like a child."
"No," pleaded Windy. "Stay here." Yet she retreated from Ilien and the glow of his Nihilic sword.
Ilien held his sword before him like brand of fire, lighting the cave with its power. "If they fall, then I face it alone. I have to help them."
Windy grabbed her pouch and untied the string. "You will face nothing alone," she said. "I'm going with you."
Ilien smiled grimly. Good old Windy, he thought. Windy looked up at him and returned the
smile. But as Ilien turned to go, a blast of energy surged from his sword and coursed up his arm. He cried out and fell to his knees, casting the blade aside in a spasm of pain.
"Ilien! What is it?" She stared at the sword where it stuck quivering in the wall.
"I don't know," breathed Ilien, clutching his stricken arm. "It shocked me. I can't wield it."
Outside, Bulcrist and Pedustil shouted to each other.
"I can't help them," said Ilien. "I can't wield the sword." He wished he had his bow, though he knew it would be powerless against the creature destined to slay him. "I'm defenseless."
Windy rushed to retrieve the sword.
"Windy! What are you doing?"
She stopped in front of the polished black pommel. "You are not defenseless," she said. She cast aside the pouch and gripped the sword with both hands. She yanked it from the wall and fell to the ground. She rose, holding the Nihilic blade up high, her face defiant in the renewed glow of the sword. "If the Nephalim comes for you, I will kill it!"
"Windy! Put it down!"
The princess did not listen. She turned and ran from the foodshare. Ilien scrambled to his feet. He snatched up the pouch holding the wutzit stone and rushed after her.
The ravine outside was filled with night and silence. The smell of dust hung in the air. Bulcrist and Pedustil were nowhere to be seen. Windy looked lost, her face a mix of fear and relief in the red glow of the Nihilic sword. Where were Bulcrist and Pedustil? A thought struck Ilien—
—Bulcrist and Pedustil were dead! The Nephalim had defeated them, was watching them at that very moment from somewhere in the ravine! He reached for Windy.
A labored cough sounded from farther down the ravine. Ilien froze. More coughing. Then muffled voices. Windy ran on, the sword held out before her. Ilien followed. As they drew near, Bulcrist's familiar voice echoed back to them. The sound of heavy wings passed overhead, and the scrabble of stone followed. Windy quickened her pace. Ilien overtook her to lead the way. They rounded a bend and there, illuminated in a globe of magical light, stood the NiDemon atop a boulder, his hands at his hips. Before him, Pedustil crouched upon a prone figure, his tail snaking back and forth in agitation, his fangs bared in warning to his captive.
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