Called to Darkness

by Richard Lee Byers

  His limp erased by the urgency of the moment, Holg rushed forward and repeatedly slammed his staff down on Yunal's head, shoulders, and spine. In another moment, surely, the bashing would drop the orc to his knees.

  Except that despite the punishment, Yunal managed to silently command the hovering bone, and it hurtled at Holg. Rho called, "Look out!"

  But if the old man even heard, he didn't react in time. The bone bashed him just above the ear, and he reeled. A second blow caught him in the ribs, and Kagur heard one of them snap.

  Holg blocked the next strike and the one after, but he had to turn away from Yunal to do it. Bleeding, swaying, the orc straightened up, gripped the carved bone with both hands, and swung it over his head.

  At the same moment, the weapon's flying counterpart vanished as the magic that had created it ran out of strength. Eyes still shut, face painted with blood, fetishes swinging on their thongs, Holg lurched back around and, the whole weight of his body behind the blow, smashed his staff into Yunal's face.

  The orc fell on his back and stayed there long enough for Holg to stagger to him and press the butt of his staff against his neck. One hard thrust would crush the windpipe.

  "I don't want to kill you," Holg said. His voice was thick, and between that and the wheezing, it was difficult to understand him. "But I will."

  "What do you want?" Yunal panted.

  Holg spat blood. "You know."

  The orc took a breath and then called, "I surrender and admit I was wrong. On this day, the human heard the words of the spirits plainer than I did."

  "Thank you," said Holg. He tried to sit down but couldn't manage it gracefully. One foot slipped on the bloody grass, and he landed with a bump that made him gasp.

  Kagur hurried to him with Rho, Vom, and others following close behind. When the old man opened his eyes, she saw that the white of the left one had turned red.

  "That wasn't quite the elegant triumph of strategy I had pictured in my head." Holg spat more blood.

  "Are you bleeding on the inside?" Kagur asked.

  The shaman started to shake his head, then winced when that evidently made it hurt worse. "I don't think so. I just bit my tongue one of the times that our friend here clouted me. But that's not to say he didn't beat me half to death, and talking like my mouth is full of mud, I'm not sure I can manage magic." He smiled at Yunal. "Perhaps you could heal both of us."

  The orc looked surprised, but did so. Fearing some spiteful trick, Kagur watched and listened carefully, especially when Yunal actually laid his hands on Holg's body. But it was all right. Cuts closed, and scraped places smoothed into healthy skin. The sections of the old man's broken rib clicked back together in a way that made him grit his teeth.

  Afterward, as both shamans clambered to their feet, Holg thanked the orc in a voice that was clear once more. "The spirits have graced you with a great deal of power. I hope we can count on it in the battle to come."

  Yunal glowered. "I told the Skulltakers to flee. I thought it wise. But I'm not afraid to fight."

  "Believe me," said Holg, rubbing his battered knuckles, "I know that as well as anyone could."

  The orc hesitated like he wasn't sure what to make of his fellow shaman's friendly manner. Finally, gruffly, he said, "Maybe it will come out all right. If the spirits truly did speak to you."

  Holg smiled wryly. "Unfortunately, Rovagug, or something akin to him, spoke to Eovath, and for all I know, Zevgavizeb spoke to the xulgaths."

  For once, Kagur understood what the old man was getting at. "The gods and demons balance each other out. That leaves it up to us."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Trap

  The area in front of the Skulltakers' cave was noisy with all the warriors packed into it, even though the youngest orcs and a few of their caretakers had relocated to the Dragonfly village to await the outcome of the coming battle.

  Kagur and Holg stood at the edge of the flat space and gazed lakeward. She couldn't actually see the shore, but she could imagine what was happening there. Scouts had kept her apprised, and she'd been to see for herself two days ago.

  Some xulgaths arrived aboard boats, which the slaves then rowed away to fetch more. Other warriors and shamans came by land, marching along the edge of the lake with longstriders and spiketails in the vanguard and spearbeaks flying overhead. The reptiles all congregated in a sprawling camp clamorous with hisses, roars, and screeches, reeking of reptilian musk and waste.

  "We still have time to move," Kagur murmured. "We could fight from the Dragonfly village. We'd be able to see farther, and the creatures would have a steeper climb to get at us."

  She was really talking to herself, but if Holg recognized as much, he saw fit to answer anyway. "As I recall, you considered all that when you were making the decision, and you still liked this battleground better."

  That doesn't mean I was right, she thought. But maybe she was, and it was unlikely to inspire confidence among her warriors if she started reversing her decisions.

  "My father," she said, "good a man as he was, never rose to command a following. So I never had the chance to watch him do it."

  Holg smiled. "That's as close as I've heard you come to confessing you're worried you might be out of your depth."

  Kagur scowled. "I was just talking."

  "My mistake. Still, look at it this way: if you never saw it, then neither did Eovath."

  She grunted. "That's a point."

  It wasn't the largest point, though. Neither she nor Holg had mentioned that, for after all, no one could do anything about it. As cumbersome a process as it was for the xulgaths to mass their strength at one spot along the lake, they were still assembling more quickly than Kagur's largely hypothetical allies. So far, only two liberated oarsmen had turned up with their kin, and two additional war bands simply weren't enough.

  At her back sounded a steady chip-chip-chip; Denda and Bok were laboring from sunrise far into the night to ensure their comrades were well armed. His voice breaking, an adult's one moment and a boy's the next, Nesteruk chattered excitedly.

  Curse it, Kagur had to win, for the sake of the living who trusted her no less than her own murdered kindred. Even for the sake of the orcs, who somehow had come to seem just as important as the human cave dwellers. Experience had shown her they weren't entirely like the marauders out of the Hold of Belkzen.

  But how could she win? Her plan had seemed good when she conceived it, but plainly—

  "Someone's coming," said Holg. He used his staff to gesture down the trail.

  After a moment, she heard the same jumble of voices that he'd evidently caught. Dalk, who'd been out scouting, strode around a bend in the trail with Unlak beside him and dozens of men and orcs hurrying along behind. Spying Kagur and Holg, the former slave saluted them with a wave of the gleaming yellow javelin in his hand.

  "I met these folk in the forest," said Dalk as he reached the end of the path.

  "We sent our own messengers to other tribes that are friendly to us," Unlak said, "and warriors joined up and traveled together for safety's sake. It slowed us down some, but we made it."

  "Not by much," said Dalk. "The xulgaths were getting ready to march. They might even be on the move by now."

  Kagur scowled. "Then we may not have much time to get our new warriors ready." She looked at Unlak. "Come with me."

  She led everyone to the mouth of the orcs' communal cave, where Rho sat with the gleaming quivers she'd left in his charge. "How many new tribes?" he asked.

  "Nine," Unlak said, and the boy started counting out nine piles of lightning javelins.

  "The warriors of each tribe will fight as their own war party," Kagur said, "but cooperate with other groups, too. And I'm the leader of everything. Do you see?"

  Unlak nodded and watched Rho finish laying out the javelins. "I just won a bet. My brother was sure you wouldn't share any more of those. Certainly not with orcs."

  "Orc or human," Kagur said, "we're all the same
in this fight. Don't attack until the signal comes. Then throw the javelins at the creatures that are hardest to kill."

  "What signal?" he replied

  She explained, then handed him and all the other newcomers off to Nesteruk. The orc youth would help the various war bands find the places where she wanted them to wait and make sure they had water and food while they did.

  For her part, Kagur strode about making sure people knew the reptiles were on the move and double-checking that they understood the plan. In the process, she verified that caches of javelins and other weapons were where they were supposed to be and brandished her "shining" blade for anyone who cared to see it.

  It all seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, and she kept worrying the reptiles would suddenly appear before she even finished. But that was just edginess, not good sense. It was a fair distance from the lakeshore to the Skulltaker village, and Eovath's great following wouldn't cover it as quickly as Dalk, Unlak, and their companions had.

  When she completed her tasks, she retrieved her longbow and quiver. Then she told Holg she was heading out.

  The old man shook his head. "You could die down there before the real battle even begins. It's not how the commanders of the southlands lead their armies."

  Kagur shrugged. "It's how my father led, and I don't think either Kellids or these cave dwellers would follow a leader who did it any other way."

  Holg sighed. "Fair enough. Really, I just wish I were going with you. But it's true: I don't run fast enough. So just do me a favor. Don't kill every xulgath. Leave me a couple."

  As Kagur departed the village, Vom, Passamax, and Yunal came trotting to join her. The three of them descended the winding trail together.

  It didn't take long to reach the stretch of wooded hillside she'd selected, and somehow, she knew she still had some daylight left. Apparently, she was finally learning to judge the passage of time without a sun that rose and set.

  She prowled along the slope checking on the humans and orcs who'd arrived before her and taken cover behind trees, tree-ferns, and thickets. All the warriors seemed well hidden from anyone peering from farther down the hill. They also understood what she required of them.

  After the inspection, she and Passamax crouched behind their own blind, a thick stand of ferns as tall as she was, and kept watch with the others. When night was nigh, they made a cold, chewy supper of smoked jerky and raw tubers, then climbed a tree.

  Passamax took the first watch, and she, the second. As she peered into darkness nearly as profound as any she'd encountered in Nar-Voth or Sekamina, with scarcely a trace of starlight filtering through the mesh of leaves and branches overhead, she wished she possessed the night vision of her orc companion. But it was sound that provided a first warning of the enemy's approach.

  During the early part of the night, the forest had roared, snarled, and screeched with the cries of nocturnal beasts. Now, though, the creatures were falling quiet, and it could only mean the xulgaths were coming.

  Kagur scowled. Since the reptiles saw as well or perhaps even better in the dark than orcs did, she'd anticipated they might make their final approach under cover of night. It was still a complication, though. Her human allies in particular might come to harm or bungle the execution of the plan when they couldn't see.

  But it was too late to worry about that, either. Things were what they were.

  She clambered along a branch to rouse Passamax, but he reared up by himself before she could. Either he hadn't been asleep, or the quiet had woken him. He started down the tree trunk, and she climbed after him.

  When he was low enough to do so without breaking a leg, he dropped to the ground. Keeping low, he darted along the hillside to make sure everyone knew the xulgaths were on their way. Kagur strung her bow and crept back to her chosen patch of cover.

  For what seemed a long while after that, nothing happened except that Passamax skulked back and gave her a nod to convey that all their allies were ready. Then, finally, she caught padding and rustling noises farther down the hill. Vague shapes moved, only barely distinguishable from the ambient gloom and one another.

  Passamax touched her hand and pointed. Kagur squinted and then turned her head to peer from the corner of her eye in the hope that the night hunter's trick would help her discern what the orc wanted her to see.

  It did. She glimpsed a shadow prowling some distance ahead of its fellows. If the xulgath scout spotted the warriors lying in wait, it would hiss a warning, and Passamax looked to Kagur to prevent that. The reptile was out of javelin range, but she should be able to hit it with an arrow.

  As she nocked a shaft, she took note of the breeze and fixed her gaze on the slinking, still only barely visible form. She drew the fletchings back to her ear, exhaled, and loosed.

  The scout dropped without a sound, to all appearances killed instantly. Seemingly failing to notice anything amiss, the loose ranks of murky figures behind it kept advancing, and Passamax gave Kagur an approving punch on the forearm.

  As she pulled a special arrow from her quiver, she wasted a moment trying to spot Eovath. His hulking form should show up even in the blackness, shouldn't it? But she couldn't pick him out and forced herself to focus on other matters.

  Like judging when the enemy had come near enough. She needed the vanguard within javelin range, but much closer than that would be too close.

  The xulgaths were still a little farther out than seemed ideal when, by bad luck, one creature's course led it straight to the body of the scout. The living reptile didn't appear to understand exactly what had befallen its comrade, but it bent over the corpse for a closer inspection, and Kagur had no doubt it would rasp the alarm in a moment.

  She stripped the hide wrapping off the arrow Denda had made and Holg had infused with magic, and it glowed white. She drew, released, and the luminous shaft arced through the air and buried itself in the chest of the inquisitive xulgath. An instant later, four of her orc allies hurled glowing javelins at other targets in the front rank.

  The purpose was twofold. Kagur wanted to illuminate the enemy so that even night-blind humans could throw with a fair chance of hitting the target. She also hoped to startle and dazzle the foe for a critical moment.

  The tactic appeared to succeed in both respects, but it also clearly revealed portions of a xulgath war band larger than any in cave-dweller memory, with at least four longstriders looming over the warriors and threehorns and spiketails lumbering in their midst. Kagur, Dalk, and other spies who'd viewed the host previously had tried to warn of the force's size and composition, but perhaps their eloquence had been unequal to the task. Somewhere along the hillside, someone let out a cry, and Kagur suspected that particular warrior wasn't alone in his astonished dismay.

  "Blacklion!" she bellowed. She nocked, drew, released, and reached for the next shaft, fast as her hands would do the work. Let her allies see xulgaths falling one after another, quickly as the beats of a racing heart, and maybe that would hearten them.

  Passamax roared, "Skulltakers!" and Vom, "Dragonflies!" They hurled javelins and felled more xulgaths.

  The demonstration of fierce resistance served its purpose. Recovering from their consternation, other warriors started shouting and throwing, too, and javelins rained down on the xulgaths.

  Meanwhile, Yunal snarled a prayer and hammered the air with his pale cudgel. On the final word, he thrust the bone at the nearest longstrider.

  The gigantic reptile staggered a step, then tilted its head and peered at all the creatures clustered around it. Then, suddenly, it roared and lunged at a spiketail, trampling xulgaths in the process. It bowled over the other huge beast, held it down, and tore at it with its jaws. The spiketail tried to strike back, but maybe it needed its feet under it to aim properly, for its tail merely pulverized more xulgaths two and three at a time.

  Reptilian warriors recoiled from the barrage from above and the frenzied struggle of the two enormous animals. Other longstriders roared as though the s
ight of the fight and the smell of gore were stirring their own aggressive instincts. Threehorns rumbled, balked, and shied.

  For a moment, it almost looked like the horde might fall into complete disarray. Then Eovath strode from the darkness behind the first ranks of xulgaths, and even their shamans, with staves in their clawed hands and fetishes dangling from their scaly necks, looked to him in the clear hope that he'd put an end to the chaos.

  Kagur loosed an arrow. Passamax and several others threw javelins.

  Eovath pivoted and all but vanished behind a wooden tower shield sized for a giant. Kagur had never seen a xulgath use such an implement, but evidently the same craftsmen who built the reptiles' boats could make one if someone gave them direction.

  The missiles all either stuck in the shield or bounced off. Eovath shouted, "You had your chances to kill me from afar, sister! Now you'll have to make another try at doing it the hard way!"

  His face a mask of fury, Yunal chanted and whipped the carved bone around like he was battering his most hated enemy to death. Then he pointed it at the blue giant.

  Yellow and blue fire shot up from the ground at Eovath's feet. But the flames curled and, to all appearances, slid into the giant's black breastplate like snakes disappearing into a hole. In an instant, the conflagration was gone, and Eovath wasn't even singed.

  "Told you!" called Eovath with laughter in his voice. Still presenting the shield to his foes, he regarded the rebellious longstrider and, to a lesser extent, all the huge, restive beasts and began an incantation.

  Unable to understand what her brother was saying, Kagur realized the power of universal speech had forsaken her again. But she didn't need to decipher the meaning to sense the power of the magic. Delivered in a voice that combined the deep tones of a frost giant with the sibilance of a xulgath, the words of command throbbed in the air and scraped at her nerves. Passamax slapped himself in the face like the spell had put some unpleasant sensation in his head and he needed to smack it out.