and found myself looking down on a large group of men. I counted twenty.”
“Port Guard?” Haradan asked.
“No, not all. Five maybe. The majority of them were dressed in long, dark overcloaks. They wore no insignia on their clothes, at least none that I could see. Each of them carried a backpack and weapons enough for three. At first I didn’t know what they were about—they seemed to be pointing this way and that— then it came to me that they were probably volunteers helping the Guard search for you.” Poco’s eyes found Dhal. “But I was wrong.”
“What happened?” Dhal asked.
“While I watched from cover, one of them spoke to a man I couldn’t see. His face was turned away from me. A few minutes later that same man led out, heading straight up Old Street
toward the north gate. I followed them. When I saw them break through the gate, I knew we had been betrayed.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dhal saw Efan lower his head and instantly he knew what Poco was saying: Donar sar Frenzel, who had given Efan a map showing the route north to Janchee, was the only man in Port Bhalvar who had any inkling of their intended escape route.
Poco watched Efan as she continued. “I went back to the cellar to collect some things, most of which I’ve lost along the way. I managed to stay just behind them all the first day. I intended to circle around them at night and come ahead to warn you, but things didn’t work out. The flatlands can be dangerous, especially at night. I don’t know how many times I walked into mudboles and hidden streams. I finally gave up and waited for morning, by which time the men had moved uptrail. It wasn’t until early this morning that I was able to pass around them. They went into Breon, the closest fishing village, probably checking to see if you had passed that way.”
“How far behind us are they?” Dhal asked.
“Four hours, maybe a little more. I’ve been running off and on for the last six hours just trying to put some distance between myself and your friends.”
“Did you recognize any of them?” Haradan asked.
“No.”
“Could they be Sarissa from Annaroth, Haradan?” Dhal asked.
“It’s possible, I suppose, but what would drive them? It seems to me that they would just be glad to chase you out of their territory. Why do I suddenly feel that we are being pushed rather than chased? And pushed in a certain direction?” Haradan looked at Efan. “Boy, do you think your father’s friend gave us away?”
Efan’s eyes snapped up. “I—I don’t know, sir.”
“It would seem the obvious answer,” Poco said.
Efan looked down. “I’m sorry. I thought Donar could be trusted.”
Haradan squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “We all make mistakes, Efan. The wise learn from them. What’s happened has happened. Don’t blame yourself. We have other things to think about right now—like how we can lose our escort.” Turning to the derkat, Haradan asked, “Ssaal-lr, do you know what lies ahead? Is there a place where this trail divides, or another route we can take into the foothills?”
Ssaal-lr thought a moment then began weaving his fingers in intricate gestures. Pocalina translated. “He says that there’s a fishing village northwest of here. It’s situated on a river that leads to the sea. It’s called Sar-ruel.” Poco looked at Screech, her eyes narrowing. “Screech, isn’t that the village where they had so much trouble last year?”
“What kind of trouble?” Dhal asked, as Screech made an affirmative motion with his hand.
“People disappearing, reports of strange deaths and mutilations. It was reported that an evil spirit in the form of a giant sea draak was haunting the river. According to what I heard, the village folk were so frightened they abandoned their town for safer shelter along the coast.”
“Sea draaks,” Haradan said, shaking his head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard of any being seen in the Enzaar Sea. They are said to be shy creatures, seldom seen and never captured. Some claim they are only legendary.”
“But who is to say that what is legend to us now was not once reality?” Poco said. “Witness your foster son. The true-blood Ni were no more, yet there he stands, proof that legends can live.”
“You have a point,” Haradan agreed. “But a sea draak couldn’t be responsible for dead or mutilated bodies. Like any other draak, they eat what they kill—meat, bones, and blood. There would be nothing left.”
“True, but their appearance may have been all that was needed to spook an already frightened people into flight.”
“This village is abandoned?” Haradan asked Ssaal-lr.
“Yes.”
Like Dhal, Haradan had been trying to pick up some of the derkat’s speech. “What lies beyond the village?”
“Small hills growing larger. Dark forest. No road. Animal trails along river.”
Dhal watched Ssaal-lr’s hands move and listened to Poco translate. What would she and the derkat do once they reached the village? Hide in the area until the hunters had passed them by? Or try another route back to Port Bhalvar? At the thought of leaving Poco behind a second time, a strange warning whispered through his mind, a foreknowledge that hinted at death should he let the woman out of his sight again. Her death or mine? he wondered.
A thought suddenly bubbled up from that portion of the mind that is all animal wariness. Poco had claimed to be trying to warn them of hunters on their trail, but what if she was lying? Was it possible that she was the betrayer and not Donar sar Frenzel? Instead of following the hunters, was it possible that she led them?
No, he thought, if she has betrayed us, she would not have come ahead alone. You’re letting your imagination run wild. Judge not your friends wrongly. You have all the enemies you need!
“Our map shows two roads out of Breon,” Haradan said. “One straight north along the coast to Janchee, the other northwest through the mountains. If the men who follow believe we are headed for Janchee, they’ll probably head straight north and we can lose them there. The only problem will be that if they do take the coast route, they’ll be ahead of us eventually and in a position to set a trap somewhere outside Janchee.”
“If we lose them now and they realize that they are following a false trail, perhaps they’ll give up and go home,” Poco suggested.
“It’s worth a try. The northwest route is somewhat longer, but if we want to lose those who follow us we’ll have to try something.” Haradan looked at Ssaal-lr. “How much farther to this abandoned village?”
“Two hours walking.”
“All right,” Haradan said. “Let’s get started. I want to make sure we stay ahead of our friends. With any kind of luck we can be up into the foothills before dark, just in case our trackers decide to split their forces and some of them come our way.”
Chapter 20
SAR-RUEL WAS DESERTED. TRAILING CLINGOR VINES HAD WOVEN a net of green leaves over and around most of the buildings, and where doors and windows had been left open by fleeing village folk, the vines had made themselves at home, crawling across wooden floors and up and over homemade tables and benches.
After peering into several of these deserted homes, Dhal was touched by a strange feeling of timelessness, as if the homes were not forever abandoned, but only waiting expectantly for the return of their owners. Furniture, drapes, plates on the tables, a piece of clothing thrown or dropped onto the floor, all seemed waiting, as if the people of the house had stepped out only for a moment.
The air was still—too still. Where were all the birds? Poco dropped back to walk beside Dhal. As her arm brushed his, she looked at him, her features dark with worry. “I knew it would be empty,” she said softly, “but not like this.”
“You used the word haunted back on the trail. Do you believe in such things?”
“Had you asked me that last week or even yesterday, I probably would have said no, but now I’m not so sure. I believe that we are more than just blood and bone, that there is a spiritual essence to all life… but whether that essence
can exist in our world without bodily form…” Poco shrugged. “Feeling is not seeing.”
“Poco?”
“Yes.”
Dhal hesitated, afraid to ask the question that had been on his mind since seeing her on the trail. She was waiting. Damn it, ask her, he thought. If she says no, she says no—you’ll live.
“Poco, have you thought about what you will do next? I mean, are you going back to Port Bhalvar?”
“It matters to you, Dhal?”
“Yes. It matters.”
“You wouldn’t mind if Ssaal-lr and I tagged along to Letsia with you?”
“No. No, I’d love for you to come. Will you?”
Poco smiled. “Yes, I think so. I always did want to travel and I think now is the time.”
“It’ll be getting dark soon.”
Poco and Dhal turned at the sound of Haradan’s voice. They were standing on a long wooden dock in front of a deserted inn, watching a series of small whirlpools that had suddenly appeared in the center of the river slightly downstream. Dhal thought there was something odd about those whirlpools, a feeling of wrongness.
Haradan joined them on the dock. “Find anything or anyone?” Dhal asked him.
“No. You?”
“No. Poco went through that section over there,” Dhal replied, pointing west along the dock, “and I just finished going through these buildings behind us. If anyone is living here now they are in hiding.”
“Have you seen Screech or Efan?” Poco asked.
“No, but they should be along,” Haradan said. “We agreed to meet here. While we’re waiting we could—”
“Look, there’s Screech,” Poco announced, pointing to the bank of the river. “He must have circled around.”
“I wonder if he found anything,” Haradan murmured.
Suddenly Ssaal-lr started running toward them, letting out an ear-splitting yowl that etched itself into Dhal’s brain like a knife across heartwood.
Covering his ears, Haradan cried, “What’s wrong with him?”
That high-pitched scream was repeated as the derkat raced toward them, a wicked-looking blade clutched in his right hand.
Dhal heard the sucking sound of water as he whirled around. For a second or two he could not believe what he was seeing. A water draak—the largest one he had ever seen—was rising up out of the river, its narrow head, long neck, and heavy shoulders silhouetted against the sky.
“Draak! Run!”
Grabbing Poco’s arm, Dhal cleared the dock in one bound, almost jerking Poco off her feet. Behind them he heard the crunch of wood splintering, then a cry. Still running, Dhal looked back and saw Haradan flung into the water. The draak lunged against the wooden pilings, heaving itself up out of the water.
“Run!” Dhal yelled at Poco, pushing her ahead. As soon as he released her, he stopped and turned, drawing his knife. As he started back toward the dock, a gray form flashed by him, shrieking defiance. Ssaal-lr was on the attack.
Poco screamed for them to come back, but at the sight of Haradan swimming free of the wreckage of the dock, Dhal kept going. If they could distract the giant reptile long enough, Haradan might just have a chance.
Ssaal-lr caught the draak’s attention first, his darting movements and ear-splitting cries enough to antagonize an entire herd of draak. Mouth open, teeth snapping, the draak’s head dipped down toward the derkat. Ssaal-lr jumped to the side, avoiding the draak’s first lunge.
Haradan was still in the water, swimming hand over hand away from the draak. Suddenly the draak’s tail flashed up and down. “Haradan, look out!” Dhal yelled. The draak’s tail came down with a terrible splash—and Haradan was gone.
A hissing sound reminded Dhal of his own very precarious position. He turned just as the draak’s head swung around. He heard Poco yell as he threw himself out of the way. Rolling over and over, he felt something brush his leg, then he was up and scrambling away from the dock. The hissing noise followed. The next few seconds became a nightmare of running and falling, the teeth of the draak only a snap away. Then, suddenly, Ssaal-lr was there, pushing him out of the way.
Slamming hard against the ground, Dhal rolled over and looked behind him. The derkat slashed at the snout of the draak. Faster then the eye could follow, the draak tipped its head sideways and knocked Ssaal-lr from his feet. Before the derkat could recover, the draak had reached down and fastened on Ssaal-lr’s left arm and shoulder, dragging him into the air.
The draak started shaking Ssaal-lr. Frantic, Dhal looked around for the knife he had dropped in his mad scramble to get out of the way. He could not find it!
Horror-stricken, Poco stood where Dhal had left her, her eyes on the draak and her friend. Dhal could see her mouth moving but could not hear her cries above the noise of the battle.
The derkat screamed his rage, and with unbelievable ferocity, he swung at the draak’s eye. Ssaal-lr was fighting for his life, all instinct and rage. With a mighty thrust, Ssaal-lr drove his knife into the draak’s left eye.
Like any wounded thing, the draak tried to jerk away from the pain and in doing so caused the knife to rip down through the eye. One moment Ssaal-lr was dangling from the mouth of the draak, the next he was falling free to the wreckage below. Thrashing in pain, the draak threw itself back into the water, and seconds later it had disappeared beneath the surface.
As soon as the draak was gone, Poco and Dhal raced toward the broken dock to the place where they had seen Ssaal-lr fall. Dhal was first to reach the still form. Ssaal-lr lay face down, his shoulder and arm soaked with blood, raw flesh laid back to the bone. Groaning in pain, the derkat lifted his head. When Dhal saw the splinter of wood that stuck out from the derkat’s right eye, his stomach turned.
“Gods!” Poco gasped.
Swallowing his revulsion, Dhal let himself down into the wreckage of wooden pilings and planks and, after some maneuvering, got into a position where he could touch the derkat.
“Be careful, Dhal,” Poco whispered. “He’s in pain and may not recognize you as friend.”
Poco knew the derkat. At Dhal’s touch, Ssaal-lr growled and threw himself over onto his back, the claws of his good hand up in a threatening position.
“Keep your eyes on the water, Poco,” Dhal said. “Warn me if the draak shows again. And watch for Haradan. The last I saw, he was swimming for the riverbank. I don’t know if he made it or not.”
Dhal turned his attention to the derkat. “Ssaal-lr, can you hear me? It’s Dhalvad. I want to help. Poco is here with me. We have to get you out of there before the draak comes back. You’re hurt badly. Let me help.”
For a moment Ssaal-lr didn’t respond, then slowly his clawed hand dropped. Keeping up a running monologue, Dhal moved in. The derkat flinched at his touch but did not fight or resist. Once Dhal had him on his feet, Poco helped guide the derkat away from the ruined dock to safe ground.
By the time they led Ssaal-lr into the shelter of the nearest building, Efan and Gi-arobi had found them. Both had heard the noises coming from the riverfront, but neither had arrived in time to witness Ssaal-lr’s heroic battle with the sea draak. Standing to the side of the doorway, Efan looked down at the derkat who lay on a straw pallet taken from another room. “Are you going to try to heal him, Dhalvad?” he asked softly.
Dhal looked up at the young man and nodded. “Yes, I’ll try.”
“Can I watch?” he asked timidly.
“I would prefer it if you and Gi would go and look for Haradan. He was thrown into the river when the draak appeared.”
“We look, Dhal,” Gi piped up. “Come, Efan.”
Efan looked down at the olvaar, hesitating, then he nodded and followed Gi to the door.
“Be careful that you don’t rouse that sea draak again,” Poco called after them.
Dhal knelt beside Ssaal-lr. The derkat was still losing blood, his arm and shoulder torn so badly that death would soon follow if Dhal did not heal him. Dhal reached out and laid his fingers on the derkat’s foreh
ead. Ssaal-lr moved under his touch, then stilled.
“Dhal, what are you going to do?” Poco asked softly. “What did Efan mean when he asked if you would heal Ssaal-lr? Can you really help him?”
“There’s no time to explain, Poco. Just trust me. Ssaal-lr sleeps now and is in no pain. I’ll do what I can for him, I promise.”
The derkat’s body was different, yet still there was a knowing of its form, a vision of lightness of each muscle and bone and the complexity of eye and brain tissue. Dhal could feel the energy flow out of him as he willed Ssaal-lr’s body to rebuild itself. Gradually he ceased to be aware of his surroundings, becoming one with the living form beneath his hands.
“I don’t believe what I have just seen,” Poco breathed softly. “How? How is it possible? What are you, Dhalvad?”
“He is a Ni-lach Healer,” Haradan’s deep voice answered.
Dhalvad roused from his peaceful trance. He opened his eyes. Poco sat beside him. Beyond her stood Haradan and Efan. Everyone was watching him. He was tired, yet his body felt light. His eyes found Haradan. “You made it.”
Haradan grinned. “Yes, thanks to you and Ssaal-lr.”
“Thought the draak got you with its tail.”
“I dove just in time, then swam downriver a ways.” Haradan’s hair was still wet and plastered to his head. His clothes clung to his body. He nodded at Ssaal-lr. “Are you finished?”
“Yes. He’ll be weak from loss of blood, but he will live.”
“You look tired. Why don’t you lie down for a little while?”
Fighting off a wave of sleepiness, Dhal shook his head. “We should be leaving soon, in case someone comes this way.”
“You haven’t the strength to do any walking right now. I’ve seen what healing does to you.” Haradan stepped around Poco and, taking Dhal by the arms, forced him backward onto the straw pallet. Dhal had no strength to resist. “You lay down right here beside Screech. Poco, Efan, Gi, and I will share watches. If we leave before first light tomorrow morning we should be into the foothills before our friends even realize that they’re on the wrong trail.”
Where The Ni-Lach Page 18