He let the blade sink back into its scabbard and sat down again. Still, his fingers played about the hilt, nervous as ever. He had done what he could do. Now it was just a matter of time.
6
You there!” one of the raiders shouted. He was another halfling, this one a male and no bigger than the female. He looked younger still, but Aric knew it was hard to tell with that race—from any distance at all they all looked like children. This one had wisps of dark hair growing from his chin. “No one said you could stand.”
“No one said we couldn’t,” Amoni replied.
“I’m saying it.”
“Fine,” Aric said. He sat down, and Myrana and Amoni joined him.
“I’m keeping my eye on you,” the halfling warned them. “So don’t think you’ll be able to try anything, when we attack that caravan.”
“It’s no caravan,” Ceadrin corrected. “I think it’s thri-kreen. We’ll let them pass, they’ve nothing we want. But keep an eye on the prisoners just the same—I’ll be wanting a word with the crippled girl when this is done.”
“Do your raider friends on the other side know you’re letting them pass?” Myrana asked. Her jaw was thrust toward the elf, her eyes narrow slits. Aric knew she didn’t appreciate being called a crippled girl—true as it might be, she got around fine, if more slowly than some, and didn’t feel crippled in any serious ways.
“They will when I don’t make the first move,” Ceadrin said. “I still command this party.”
The halfling shot him a look that Ceadrin didn’t see because he was eyeing Myrana. Aric wondered if the little man thought he—or more likely the female halfling who seemed to be second in seniority—should be in charge of the band. Perhaps she had even challenged Ceadrin in the past. Some of her scars had seemed of recent vintage.
Ceadrin moved off down the hill to join others watching the approaching thri-kreen intently. He spoke quiet words to them, most likely telling them not to engage the group. The halfling watched the prisoners for a couple more minutes before his attention also wandered back toward the thri-kreen. By now they were clearly visible, racing up the valley floor on those powerful legs.
“Do you think they saw your signal?” Myrana whispered.
Aric shrugged. “We’ll find out soon.”
As the thri-kreen came closer, movement from the raiders ceased. They had taken their places behind boulders and bushes, as if prepared for ambush, but they didn’t want to attract the attention of a group of thri-kreen numbering more than they had. They would wait and watch and hope.
Aric made his extremities stop jittering around. He rested his hand on the sword hilt, drawing comfort from its steel. Amoni seemed on edge as well, her muscles tense, ready for a fight. Only Myrana appeared relaxed, now that Ceadrin was gone.
As the sun rose high enough over the far hills to flood the canyon floor, the thri-kreen started to pass below them. Aric could make out individual faces, but to him the thirty or more imposing insect men all looked the same. Huge black multifaceted eyes glittered in the sunlight, antennae bobbed as they ran. The clicking of their mandibles was audible even far up on the hill. They wore no clothing to speak of, although some had harnesses or belts from which they suspended weapons and belongings. Every one of them carried weapons in their upper limbs, the middle set of arms being far the weakest of their six limbs. They were especially fond of gythkas and chatkchas. Many also carried shields of wood or shell.
Every raider’s gaze was riveted on them. The halfling and another raider, a muscular, heavily tattooed human with only one eye and a nasty scar snaking down from his empty left socket to the corner of his mouth, sat behind the captives, so that even while watching the thri-kreen they could see if Aric, Myrana, or Amoni tried anything. Aric wondered if he should make a move anyway. If they could take out those guards quietly, perhaps he, Amoni and Myrana could go up over the crest of the hill and come down on the other side, then capture some mounts.
And then what? Go back into either a battle or a troop of thri-kreen warriors for Ruhm and Sellis? Abandon them? Neither option was a good one. Myrana would have a hard time on the uphill sprint. If they were seen, the raiders need not call attention to themselves, at all. A few could chase them over the hill and catch them on the other side of the hill without the thri-kreen seeing anything.
No, there was nothing to do but hope and wait until an opportunity presented itself.
“They’re going,” the one-eyed human said softly. “Thank Ral and Guthay, they’re passing us by.”
At that moment, the thri-kreen attacked.
7
They broke formation without notice, many of the insect men sprang off their strong legs, some landing thirty or forty feet up the hillside.
As they charged, the raiders responded, knowing they hadn’t gone unseen after all. They shoved over huge stones, fired arrows, hurled javelins. Most of the weapons clattered off thri-kreen shields. A hurtling boulder smashed into one, who gave a chittering wail as it died. Others simply leapt over the oncoming rocks and kept swarming up the hillside.
With howls and battle cries, the raiders left their hiding places and rushed to meet the thri-kreen. A crystalline chatkcha arced through the air and crushed one raider’s skull. A thri-kreen engaged a half-elf raider, gythka to sword, the gythka’s crescent blades at each end spinning around and the stabbing blade in the center keeping the raider at bay until the mantis man finally cut the half-elf’s leg, then pierced his heart.
“Aric, look!” Myrana said, grabbing his upper leg. She pointed to the ridge across the canyon. Aric saw nothing, at first, then realized that was the point.
“They’re staying hidden,” he said. “The thri-kreen don’t know there’s anybody up there, and the raiders like it that way.”
“They’d rather see their fellows slaughtered than take a chance on joining the fight,” Amoni said. She spat into the dirt. “Cowards.”
“The fight won’t take long, then,” Aric said. “With the raiders at full strength, we might have a chance. But with half, we’ll be swiftly dispatched.”
He stood suddenly and drew his sword. “What are you doing?” the halfling guard demanded.
“They’ll be up here any moment,” Aric said. “If you think we’re not defending ourselves …”
“Oh, let them come,” the halfling said. “There’ll be more than a bug or two slain before they get here.”
Amoni and Myrana followed suit, rising and drawing weapons.
And across the way, a boulder sailed from the hillside, crashing to the canyon floor behind the startled thri-kreen who hadn’t yet climbed the slope.
Surprised shouts followed in the boulder’s wake.
Thri-kreen peeled off from the first wave of attack and started up the opposite hill. The battle was fully engaged, on both fronts. The raiders had the edge of height, but the ferocity of thri-kreen warriors couldn’t be understated. Aric watched one grab a raider and plant its mandibles into her arm, injecting venom that froze her in place. The thri-kreen dispatched her with a quick stab from its gythka and turned to face its next opponent.
The time had come. Aric spun around without warning and buried his sword in the one-eyed man’s chest. The raider’s single eye bulged, his jaw dropped open, and blood burbled out. Aric withdrew the blade and more blood spurted from the wound.
The halfling started toward Aric. Amoni blocked his way, her cahulaks whipping through the air. One four-bladed head sliced through the halfling’s arm, then the other sliced up his chest and chin.
Aric grabbed Myrana’s arm and hoisted her to her feet. “Come on!” he urged. “Over the hill!”
“But.… Sellis and Ruhm!”
He hadn’t yet figured out that part of it. Ruhm and Sellis were capable. Even now they had to be fighting their own way clear.
An elf raider bounded toward them with a bone axe in both hands. “Stop where you are! We’re not done with you!”
“Yes, you are,” Amo
ni said. She met the elf’s advance. Aric took advantage of the moment to lead Myrana up the slope. The soil was loose, sliding under his feet. They had to dig in, sidestepping up. It was hard for Myrana, so Aric took a step, braced, and hauled her up beside him, then moved on to the next.
Before they reached the crest, two more raiders raced to intercept their escape. One was a brutish human or part-human of a breed Aric didn’t recognize, the other a stout, bronze-skinned man who looked to be from Draj.
Aric released Myrana’s hand and slashed at the brute, who blocked the blow with a chitin shield and stabbed with the short spear he carried. Aric sidestepped the spear thrust. His foot came down awkwardly on the uneven ground and slid out from under him. The second man jabbed with a dragon paw. Swinging his heavy sword, Aric caught the dragon paw’s jab, deflecting the weapon and continuing his blade’s sweep toward the man’s skull.
The man raised the dragon paw to parry the sword. Aric’s heavy steel blade crashed through the paw’s wooden shaft and bit into the man’s head, carving a deep gash above his ear. The man cried out, hurled his weapon aside and clapped his hands to his head as he fell to his knees. Aric kicked him in the chest and he went down.
But the kick unbalanced Aric again. He caught himself on his hands, just as the other fellow drove his spear’s keen obsidian tip at Aric again. Aric tried to dodge but his foot slid on the rocky slope, and the point scraped his ribs. Aric, still unbalanced, batted the spear away with one hand and shoved his sword point-down toward the ground to keep from falling. Only the sword’s length kept him from tumbling down the slope.
The brute charged, spear outthrust for the killing blow. When Aric tried to turn to face the man, his weight on the ancient sword bowed and snapped it with a loud crack. Most of the blade’s length skidded down the hill. Aric dropped to one knee, ducking under the thrusting spear and bringing the remains of his weapon, about four inches of blade, up at the same time. The brute’s momentum carried him past Aric’s shoulder, and those four inches of steel sank into his gut. Blood drenched Aric’s hand and arm. The brute spun away from him, tearing the stub of a sword from Aric’s grasp, and rolled down the slope.
Aric picked up the fallen spear. It was not a weapon he had any familiarity with, but he’d rather learn it fast than be without any.
Amoni had finished off her elf opponent, and with those enemies dispatched, the way to the hilltop was clear. Below, the thri-kreen had cut a swath through the raiders. A glance at the far ridge showed the same thing happening there, but Aric was moving too fast, he and Amoni helping Myrana up the steep, treacherous crest of the ridge, to see if he could spot Ruhm or Sellis.
Then they were over the top and working down the other side, panting from the hurried climb. On this side the sunlight seemed brighter and hotter, the sky a brighter olive, the sounds of battle dimmed.
They rushed as much as they could down the slope, balancing between trying to move quickly and not wanting to send cascades of rock and dirt down to announce their presence. Somewhere on this side, three more raiders waited with the mounts.
Once they neared the bottom, they smelled the animals, then saw their guards. They raiders had corralled the beasts in a makeshift pen. Using a natural cutaway in the hillside, they blocked the open side with branches and brush. One raider slept while the other two gambled with fragments of white bone. Aric, Myrana and Amoni cut across the slope toward them.
When they were almost directly above the guards, one of the erdlus sniffed the air and gave a warbling cry of alarm. The guards dropped their bits of bone and snatched up weapons. Aric and Amoni took a couple of running steps and launched themselves into the air.
Amoni crashed into one of the guards, bowling him over. Aric landed hard, a couple of feet before his man. He bent his knees upon landing and sprang up fast, thrusting with the unfamiliar spear.
His opponent, a battle-scarred veteran wearing vestiges of a Tyrian military uniform, moved away from the thrust and swung a fang-spiked morningstar at him. The heavy weapon whistled inches above Aric’s head, as he ducked the blow and lost his footing. He sprawled on the ground, spear under his belly. The wound he’d suffered earlier sent darting pains though him, but he rolled over quickly and jabbed the spear’s obsidian point into the veteran’s ankle.
The man screamed. He put his weight on his good leg and tried to raise the morningstar again. He went off balance and stumbled to correct himself, giving Aric time to push to his feet and drive the spear into the veteran’s chest. The veteran looked at him with a shocked expression, and slowly sank to the ground.
Aric snatched away the morningstar as the man fell, with Aric’s new spear locked in his chest. The guard who had been sleeping was sitting up. Amoni, having slain her foe, spun her cahulaks on their rope, and the guard dodged right and left to avoid them. He lunged for a crossbow he had set aside before going to sleep. Aric hurled the morningstar. It struck the guard’s hand, cutting him and bouncing away. The guard snatched back his hand, and one of Amoni’s cahulaks’ heads drove into his abdomen.
The mounts were stamping and squealing, but all three guards were dead. Aric helped Myrana down from the slope.
“Grab some erdlus!” he shouted. Amoni was standing in the midst of them but had not yet moved to secure any. “We need five of them.”
“Five?” Amoni asked. “We are only three!”
“For Sellis and Ruhm?” Myrana speculated. “Yes. We have to go back for them.”
“Why?” Amoni asked. “They’re our friends.”
“But they’re—”
“What? Probably dead? They might be. But they might be alive, too. Until we find out …”
“What of the demon? Warning Nibenay?”
“We need to see if they’re alive.” Aric said. “We can’t just leave them.”
Amoni didn’t argue further. Despite the talk he’d had with her, she was still more comfortable taking orders than questioning them. Within a few moments, each was mounted on a sturdy bird, taller than Aric and slightly heavier. They’d tied ropes around the necks of two others, which Aric and Amoni held. Aric leaned over the guard he had killed, grabbing his spear’s shaft and tugging it free.
Myrana led the way out of the makeshift corral. They left it open behind them and nudged the erdlus into a sprint. Aric glanced back to see kanks and erdlus emerging from the corral and wandering into the desert.
The erdlu’s feathers tickled his legs and arms. He tilted forward, holding onto the thing’s thick neck, a scent like almost-spoiled meat filling his nose. He directed the creature by applying pressure with his hands and knees, and after a few minutes he began to feel like he and the bird were in sync. The thing moved at a brisk but ungainly trot, swaying Aric from side to side with every long stride.
Once they were moving at full speed, Aric’s beast passed Myrana’s. He led them around the line of hills, to the canyon’s narrow end. As they neared the pass they could again hear the sounds of battle. The big bird didn’t want to enter the pass, but Aric kept up the pressure. They went into the canyon, cooled suddenly by deep shade.
To Aric’s delight, the raiders had given up fighting and were trying to escape. Thri-kreen warriors gave chase. Many had fallen, on both sides, but more raiders than insect men.
Scanning the scene, he couldn’t see Ruhm or Sellis. “Where are they?” Myrana shouted. “Sellis!”
“Quiet, Myrana!” came a hushed voice from behind a thick stand of brush. “You’ll give us away!”
Sellis emerged, then Ruhm, looking as if he’d had to fold himself in quarters to hide behind the bushes. “We hid,” Ruhm said.
“So I see,” Aric replied. “Here, we brought you mounts.”
“The thri-kreen went after the raiders,” Sellis explained. “So we decided to make for the pass. When we saw you three go over the top, we guessed that’s where you’d end up.”
“If you made it,” Ruhm added. Eternally optimistic.
“We made it,” M
yrana said. “But if you don’t get on these birds we might not make it far.”
Ruhm and Sellis climbed the rest of the way down the hill and took over the erdlus. Ruhm’s staggered under his weight, then righted itself, as if considering the half-giant a challenge to which it would not concede defeat. They turned the birds around and rode back out of the pass and into open desert.
“We’ll give a wide berth to these hills,” Aric called. “Then make for Nibenay again, and pray this whole encounter hasn’t delayed us overmuch.”
Ruhm got a look at the obsidian-pointed spear Aric was still carrying. “Where’s your sword?” he asked.
“It broke,” Aric explained. “Last I saw it, I’d buried it to the hilt in one of the raiders, but there wasn’t much left of the blade by then.”
“Too bad,” Ruhm said. He showed Aric his greatclub, which the erdlu no doubt would grow to resent if they rode for long. “Still have this. Wood’s better.”
“If that club was as old as my sword, it’d be nothing but wood chips by now,” Aric said. “There’s nothing wrong with steel, but any weapon a thousand years old is going to have some problems.”
Ruhm smiled at his club and laid it across his lap. “Let you know,” he said. “In about nine hundred and ninety-six years.”
XV
FLIGHT
1
He finally gave in again.
He went back once more to the elven market, just as day inevitably gave way to night. The sun set, the wind rose, the cold began to settle in around the bazaar like an unwelcome guest who would stay too long. He intended just to watch, not to take any action.
City Under the Sand: A Dark Sun Novel (Dungeons & Dragons: Dark Sun) Page 25