by A. Giannetti
“You broke the lupin’s neck with your hands,” said Ruso with wonder in his voice. “The girl’s chains too,” he said as he walked over to the broken chains lying in the meadow grass and stirred them with his right foot. “I should kill you now and be on my way,” said Ruso thoughtfully. “The lupin is dead. No one is left to carry tales about me now.”
“Go ahead,” said Elerian to Ruso with a grim smile. “Kill me, then.”
Ruso stared balefully at Elerian, but he made no move to come closer. In his mind, he could still hear the dry snap of the lupin’s neck breaking.
“Maybe I should go after the girl,” said Ruso. “You might be more manageable once I have a knife to her throat.”
“Let her go,” said Elerian quickly, “and I will accompany you wherever you wish to go.”
Ruso considered Elerian’s offer. If he left to capture the girl, the Hesperian might escape before he could return. They were at a standoff.
“If you behave, I will agree not to follow her,” said Ruso at last. Watching Elerian at all times, he prepared a breakfast of bacon and fried bread. He did not offer Elerian food, but Elerian was at least able to drink at the stream. Despite the fact that he was still a captive, he was content, for he had kept his promise to Clodius. He was sure that Alfidia was well away by now. She seemed a resourceful girl, and the chances were good that she would reach her home.
After Ruso finished his breakfast and packed his gear, they were on their way, forming a strange procession. Elerian walked in front, without any guidance, following the discs that marked the path. Ruso walked along behind him, right hand on his knife hilt. The Ancharian constantly changed his position as he sought some vantage from which he might take Elerian by surprise. Despite their agreement, he felt that it was in his best interest to kill Elerian if he could. Now that the lupin was dead, there would be no witnesses to the murder.
Elerian, in turn, kept a wary eye on the Ancharian, hoping that Ruso would attack him, for that would release him from the promise he had made to the Ancharian. The stalemate continued until nightfall. At a safe distance from Elerian, Ruso built a fire and cooked his supper. Afterward, he sat and watched Elerian, hoping he would fall asleep, but Elerian sat stared back at the Ancharian all night long, his eyes gleaming in the starlight. More than once that night, Ruso cursed Gallus, for he was carrying Elerian’s bow when the Ondredon struck him down.
Neither Ruso nor Elerian had any idea that Lurco and his Urucs passed their camp that night, traveling west only ten miles to the north of them. Had Ruso suspected the Goblin captain was so close by, he would have thrown caution to the winds and attacked Elerian at once, rather than chance Lurco finding out about his deception.
The game of cat and mouse continued for another day. Ruso walked at a safe distance behind Elerian, eyes half closed, stumbling with weariness.
“There is no way he will be able to stay awake for a second night,” thought Elerian to himself, watching Ruso out of the corners of his eyes. “I will not kill him because of my promise, but tonight I will attempt to escape if he falls asleep. Alfidia should be home by now and safe from harm.”
Ruso’s thoughts were aligned with Elerian’s. Fearing Elerian would kill him if he fell asleep, he began to think about abandoning his captive, rather than risk falling victim to the strange Hesperian.
“He does not look tired at all,” he thought to himself, giving Elerian a baffled look. As if sensing his thoughts, Elerian turned and favored Ruso with a grim smile that sent a chill down the Ancharian’s spine.
“I had better leave while I can,” decided Ruso. “Even if the miserable creature somehow survives and reaches his home again, he is not likely to report to the Goblins that I stole his belongings.” Leaving the path, he began edging around Elerian, intending to pass by him on his right side. Elerian immediately stopped and turned his head, watching Ruso warily. He was quite willing to let the Ancharian go in exchange for his freedom. “Once I return home, I will deal with these manacles,” he thought to himself. “Perhaps Ancus can split the chains with a chisel.” His spirits rose to their highest point in several days at the thought of seeing Balbus and Tullius again.
Suddenly, a human voice broke the stillness of the forest. A moment later, an Ancharian appeared, walking along the same path as Elerian and Ruso. Elerian felt his heart sink as three chained Hesperians followed the Ancharian and then, two more Ancharians. Behind them walked a slender Wood Goblin.
“Play the game we agreed on boy, or we are both dead men,” whispered Ruso softly, standing beside him just out of Elerian’s reach.
LURCO
“As we agreed,” said Elerian softly, without turning his head. Ruso’s chance to kill him was gone, but his own chances of escape had also vanished. Now he must concentrate all his efforts on remaining undiscovered.
Ruso stepped in front of Elerian and greeted his fellow Ancharians, spinning a partly fabricated tale of misfortune. The death of his Goblin overseer at the claws of a leopard was true enough, but Ruso blamed the loss of his fellow Ancharians on the Ondredon, making no mention of Elerian, who kept his head down the whole time. No one in the raiding party spared him a glance, not even the Wood Goblin.
Ruso pushed Elerian into line with the other prisoners, and they continued east. Elerian tried to blend in with his fellow prisoners, saying little and making himself as inconspicuous as possible. That night, when the raiders camped in a meadow, Elerian considered making a last desperate bid for freedom, but the fiery eyes of at least two lupins reflected the light of the fire from under the trees surrounding the meadow, and he thought better of it.
In the morning, after a breakfast of hard bread and water, he and the other prisoners were herded east again on a path that became increasingly well marked. They began to encounter other groups of Ancharians, and the line of prisoners lengthened, until Elerian was just one Hesperian among many. Lupins, visible now and then through the trees, shadowed the column, and Elerian put aside thoughts of escape until he could somehow rid himself of his manacles.
Evening was coming on when the bridge over the Ancharus came into view. Ruso grew increasingly nervous, casting frequent, uneasy glances at Elerian, as if trying to determine his trustworthiness. If the Hesperian went back on his bargain and spoke of the marvelous scaled shirt in Ruso’s pack, he would doom them both to torture and death. Elerian, in turn, began to wonder if Ruso would be able to carry off the deception. The Ancharian looked as if he suffered from a fever. His face was pale, and his hands shook so much that he thrust them into his wide belt to conceal them.
When they crossed over the bridge, Elerian saw Dwarf and human slaves rebuilding the roadbed under the supervision of armed Mordi carrying whips. Many of the holes that had been present on his first trip had already been repaired. When Elerian stepped off the bridge with the other prisoners, he saw that the outer wall around Esdras was also being rebuilt. The city gates had been restored and stood open with Mordi guards standing to either side of the entrance to the city, closely scrutinizing all the prisoners who entered. Elerian kept his head down, trying to hide his nervousness, as he shuffled past them. To his relief, their bored gazes flicked over him without stopping, and Elerian entered the city with his disguise undetected.
Once he passed the gates, Elerian saw that the great road running through the center of the city also showed signs of repair. Trees and brush had been removed from the roadbed, the great paving stones had been leveled, and even the grass between the stones had been grubbed out. It was almost dark now, for the sun was sinking beneath the western horizon. The twilight thickened into night as the long line of prisoners followed the newly refurbished road through the ruined city, slowly approaching the great central square. From the corners of his eyes, Elerian saw that beads of sweat dotted Ruso’s brow.
“Will his nerve break or will greed for the shirt win out?” Elerian wondered to himself uneasily. It was not a good feeling to know that his life depended on the wavering
Ancharian. Ruso suddenly drew closer to Elerian, a wild look in his dark eyes.
Barely moving his lips, he whispered into Elerian’s right ear. “Say nothing about the shirt! If you come to the attention of the Goblins, your fate will be worse than anything you can imagine.”
The Ancharian immediately stepped away from Elerian, but he kept his hand on his belt knife, shooting threatening looks at Elerian as they entered the square. The rebuilding of the city had not reached here. Tall grass still grew in the cracks between the paving stones, and trees still dotted the plaza. Burning fiercely in the center of the square was a large bonfire. Red and yellow leaping, crackling tongues of flame cast a pool of flickering light that illuminated a number of figures standing around the fire, joking and laughing, some in soft, evil voices, and others in guttural, animal like tones. A look of terror swept across the faces of the slaves approaching the fire, a look that was mirrored on Ruso’s face.
“His nerve will break,” thought Elerian despairingly to himself. He tensed himself to take the faltering Ancharian’s knife. “I will slay as many Goblins as I can with it before they kill me,” he thought grimly to himself.
Far to the west of Esdras, another scene of life and death was playing out. After passing to the north of Ruso and Elerian, Lurco had traveled west and then south for two more nights, completely unaware that his quarry was being brought to Esdras by Ruso. When he reached the place where Elerian had rescued Glycia from Lurco’s two Ancharian guides, he directed his Urucs to set up camp before continuing on with his two Ancharian guides toward Paetus’s farm. He cast an illusion spell over the three of them before they left the forest so that they all resembled Hesperian traders. His guides had already told Lurco that Ancharians were no longer welcome among the Hesperians.
Lurco found Paetus already up and working in his fields. After some small talk, Lurco heard the story of how Elerian, the grandson of a nearby neighbor named Balbus, had saved the farmer’s children. Paetus freely lavished praise on Elerian, while at the same time admitting that he had no idea how Elerian had managed to track the raiders in the dark and defeat them single handedly. It was an astonishing accomplishment for an otherwise ordinary young man.
The tale bore out the story told by Lurco’s Ancharian guides. He decided to pay a visit to Balbus next. Unaware that Elerian had left home to rescue Clodius’s daughter, Paetus obligingly accommodated Lurco with directions on how to reach Balbus’s farm. He even mentioned that if Elerian was not at home, then he might very well be visiting his friend Tullius, an odd personage who lived near the Abercius, if one could believe it.
When Elerian entered Esdras, Lurco and his company of black clad Goblins were already gathered in the woods that bordered Balbus’s farm, on the vey spot, had they known it, where another Goblin band had stood almost twenty-one years ago, also searching for Elerian. At his silent signal, Lurco’s band quietly flowed through the hedge gate and moved like shadows across Balbus’s fields. Once the house and barn were completely surrounded, Lurco glided up to the front door. At his heavy knock, Carbo, now grown stiff with age, struggled to his feet and roused Balbus, who was sleeping by the fire, with his growls. Balbus knew nothing of Glycia’s return and had slept the last two nights in his chair by the fire, waiting for Elerian. His first thought was that Elerian had come home, but Carbo’s growls quickly dashed his hopes. Whoever was at the door, it was not Elerian.
Balbus took his sword down from its pegs over the fireplace and walked over to the door. “Who knocks on my door?” he asked suspiciously.
“I am seeking a Hesperian named Elerian,” said Lurco in his most pleasant voice. “I have matters of import to discuss with him.”
Balbus started at the request. Despite the mild tenor of the stranger’s voice, it was obvious Carbo sensed some enemy outside the door. A great ridge of frost colored hair had risen up along the length of his spine and low growls continued to bubble up from deep in his chest.
“So, after all these years, they have returned at last,” thought Balbus to himself, with a feeling of resignation, for he was certain that a Goblin or some agent of the Goblins waited on the other side of his door. Fear gripped him, but he pushed it aside. “If they are here, then it means that Elerian is still alive,” he thought hopefully to himself. “They must not learn that he went into the forest to recue Glycia.”
“Come back tomorrow when the sun is up,” said Balbus firmly.
“Do not be afraid my friend,” said Lurco softly through the door. “Believe me, I wish you no harm. Open the door and I will give you silver, all that you can hold in your two hands.”
If anything, the offer of a bribe alarmed Balbus even more. He was sure now that a Goblin was outside his door. “Be gone!” shouted Balbus desperately. “I do not want your money!”
Lurco was not used to being disobeyed, and his temper flared at Balbus’s stubborn refusal to open the door. He touched the door handle with his right hand. There was a rending of metal as the lock burst, followed by a sharp crack as the heavy crossbar snapped like a twig. The door flew open, barely missing Balbus, who had stepped back just in time.
Before Lurco could step into the farmhouse, Carbo, old and half-blind as he was, launched himself at the Goblin’s throat. A wave of Lurco’s left hand burst the old dog’s heart and flung him half way across the room. With a cry of rage, Balbus thrust at Lurco’s throat with the point of his sword. A man would have died before that swift blow, but Lurco had the inhumanly quick reflexes of the Urucs. He twisted his body to his right, and the sword missed his throat, cutting a shallow gash on the left side of his neck instead. As his dark blood spilled out over his pale skin and pain lanced through him from the wound, the crimson sparks in Lurco’s dark eyes exploded into flame. Overcome with rage, he raised his right hand and hoarsely shouted,” Ruere!”
Balbus stiffened and dropped his sword. As it clanged on the floor, he clutched the left side of his chest with his right hand. “It is over and Elerian is still safe,” he thought to himself, almost with relief, before falling to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Balbus’s death enraged Lurco even more, for it was not part of his plan to kill him until he had questioned Balbus about Elerian. Savagely, Lurco kicked Balbus’s body out of the way and stormed into the house, followed by others of his company. It took only a few moments to ascertain that Balbus was the only occupant of the house. Lurco then stalked down the passageway that led to the barn and searched every corner. The panicked animals made the night hideous with their cries as they sought to escape. When Lurco found that the barn was also unoccupied, he drew his sword in a rage and slew every creature in it. He stood for a time, then, in the center of the barn with his chest heaving and blood running down the black blade of his sword, until the red haze of anger slowly faded from his mind.
After healing the wound in his neck, which still dripped black blood, Lurco angrily considered his next move. The stubborn old man had denied him information about Elerian and wounded him in the bargain, but there was still someone else he could question.
“I will visit the odd fellow who lives in the forest,” thought Lurco to himself with a merciless smile on his lips. Perhaps this Tullius will be able to tell me where I can find Elerian.” With his mind made up, Lurco touched his right hand to a wooden stall and red flames sprang into existence, running across the wood like live things. Lurco returned to the farmhouse, setting fires as he went.
“The old man cheated me out of information, but even in death, he can still serve a purpose,” thought Lurco to himself as he walked untouched through the flames spreading all around him. “Once he has news of the fire, this Elerian may return here, searching for his grandfather.” Lurco viciously kicked Balbus’s body once more when he passed it and then paused a moment in the doorway. The room behind him had already become an inferno. Red flames licked around his face and shoulders so that he too seemed to burn, but when he stepped out of the doorway, he was unscathed.
“The on
e we seek is not here,” said Lurco savagely to the Goblins gathered in Balbus’s yard. He told off the names of six Urucs. “The six of you will remain here in hiding in case the old man’s grandson returns,” he said in a more controlled voice. “I will take the rest of the company and visit the Hesperian who lives in the forest.”
“He shall not escape me as easily as the old man,” thought Lurco to himself as he led his Goblins away from the burning farmhouse.
Paetus had given Lurco only general directions to Tullius’s house, for he had never been there, but Lurco and his Urucs soon found the faint path that led down to the lower forest and Tullius’s clearing. It was not long before they arrived at the mage’s home and silently spread out to surround the clearing.
Lurco warily approached the entrance into the clearing, for his third eye revealed the curtain of flickering green light that completely surrounded it. For the first time, he realized that Tullius might be a mage. He attempted an opening spell on the gate, but the shield spell was surprisingly strong and resisted his first effort. With a growing sense of annoyance, Lurco brought the full weight of his power against the gate. It suddenly burst into pieces with a loud cracking, rending sound. The leaves of the rowan trees rustled for a moment, as if a strong wind had suddenly passed through their branches, but the green curtain remained intact where the gate had stood a moment before.
Features twisted into ugly lines by anger, Lurco raised both arms, and red flames sprang up on the branches of the trees on either side of the destroyed gate. They spread from tree to tree until the whole circle of rowans burned with a fierce roar. As the trees blackened and died, the green curtain surrounding the clearing suddenly vanished. Lurco passed through the circle of flames, striding silently toward the shabby house in the center of the clearing.