by Robert Ryan
He stepped back into the deeper shadows and spoke to the others.
“We’ve been found again,” he said. “The Royal Guards must know that we’re no longer on the river, and they’re waiting for us where the path comes out of the swamp.”
Aranloth grunted but did not speak.
Arliss frowned. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
“They don’t seem to know exactly where we are,” Lanrik added. “That’s something at least.”
“It’ll be night soon,” Arliss said. “We can slip away during the dark and leave them here, waiting for us, while we get on our way.”
Lanrik hesitated. “That’s true. But I have another idea.”
14. Paths Already Trodden
Erlissa walked briskly. The turf of the old Halathrin road felt firm beneath her feet. The sky was clear, and the sun bright, yet a shadow chilled her heart and dimmed her eyes to the beauty of the land.
She worried about Lanrik. She tried not to, for she needed to concentrate on her own problems, but her thoughts and fears for him all seemed to have a will of their own and would not be constrained.
Her own dilemma was never far from her mind though. She must somehow defeat Ebona, a creature of far greater power than herself; and she had no idea where to start.
It was thinking of Lanrik that gave her direction. What would he do? He had ventured alone into an army of enemies, rescued her from imprisonment, and then escaped. He had achieved the near impossible, and though luck had played a role, most of it came down to his courage and planning. He was a man who left as little to chance as possible, and she must learn from his example. She would have to think her way through the task that she had accepted and use her strengths rather than dwell on her weaknesses.
What, then, were her strengths? For a moment she thought she had none, but then her pride asserted itself. She was not without resources. Her lòhrengai was no match for Ebona, but that did not mean it was not useful. If she could not challenge the witch directly, she must find a way to use her power differently. Stealth and deception were possibilities that she must explore. Also, the witch would not be looking for her. Her focus would be on her struggle with Carnona, and that was an advantage, for though she was winning the contest, it would constantly sap her powers.
Erlissa mused over those thoughts for a while. Something else was in her favor: would the witch understand that she was only a shadow of herself, that her real body lay in a death-like sleep beneath Lòrenta’s fountain? That might prove useful before the end. The witch would undoubtedly sense something strange, but she might not understand its cause, and that could make her hesitate.
Stealth, secrecy, and surprise must be her focus, and she would think on that as she walked and try to formulate a plan.
A breeze blew across the downlands that surrounded her. She felt the air on her skin, saw the green grass growing over the long slopes and the tree-lined creek banks at their bottom, and yet she felt that something was wrong. She was here, but it seemed to her that she was not really part of it. She focused on why that would be, and the more she did so the more she sensed the connection to her own body, her true body, in Lòrenta.
Erlissa understood what was disturbing her. It was a problem without solution, for she did not really belong here. Only the summoning of Ebona and the power of ùhrengai had made her presence possible, but her body called her back, and the pull was growing stronger. It would continue until finally she could no longer resist it.
She hastened forward along the still road. Her stride was quick and unwearying, one of the benefits of not being real, she supposed, though if her body did not tire as much as was normal, her mind and strength of will certainly did.
She remembered the road well, having been here with Lanrik and Aranloth, and it felt strange to her to walk its length without them. She was alone and unaided, but then she felt the warmth of the walnut staff in her hand and realized that she was not quite alone. Something of the forest had come with her, even if she did not understand it.
She attuned her mind to it, but her powers were not as sharp as Aranloth’s. She could sense little about the staff, but as she did so, her seeking mind detected something else, and she cast her perception further afield. Somewhere to her left, still a fair distance away, but coming toward her, she sensed a creature of power. It felt somehow akin to her. She did not know what it was but soon realized that it was not human. She felt waves of hate emanating from it. And fear as well.
It took her a moment to decide what it was. One of the creatures that Ebona had warned her of had sensed her, even as she had sensed it, and it was coming for her. For a moment she despaired; it would reach her before she made it to Caladhrist, but she hardened her resolve. The witch was beyond her powers, but this creature, if it attacked her, she had a chance of defeating. At least, if it was alone. She had a vague feeling that it was not.
Erlissa gripped her staff more firmly and walked on. Her long strides ate up the miles. To her left the woods of Alonin loomed, a green and inviting fringe of trees. She had been there before, when the hounds of Ebona had pursued her. Strange how things seemed so familiar to her, how the past kept on bubbling up into the present.
Another thought occurred to her. Aranloth had led the hounds into the woods, and the Halathrin ruins, for a reason. Not only had the walls offered partial protection, but creatures of ùhrengai did not like civilization. The pattern of roads and buildings confused and weakened them. Perhaps not by much, but maybe by enough to make a difference.
She did not have to walk much further before she found the place where they had turned off. She stood there a long while, thinking if she was doing the right thing, wondering if it was right to go down paths already trodden, but she sensed the creature closing on her and made up her mind. One place was as good as another to die.
She gripped her staff tightly. Going into the woods would not slow her down much, and she would still reach Caladhrist in time - if she survived.
Her feet turned, almost of their own will, down the trail that she had taken before. Soon the road led toward a mass of jumbled stones. The old ruins loomed before her, just as she remembered, only now, in the light of late afternoon, they looked like what they were: the grave of a long-dead city and not the mess of boulders and jagged stone that she had taken them for the first time.
The pattern of streets was easily recognizable, as were parks where trees grew thickly. In the center was the overthrown tower where they had taken shelter, and she hurried toward it. Her boots moved silently over cracked flagstones and like a ghostly shadow she glided down the darkening street.
Scattered all about the foundations of the tower was a ring of fallen and shattered stones. The wall on the far side was partially intact, and formed a half moon.
She looked around, remembering the fight that had taken place here. She thought of Lanrik’s bravery, of how close they had all come to dying, of their excitement at living, and wondered if she would survive to feel like that again.
She turned her back to the wall, faced the open, and waited. Soon she heard a strange and guttural grunt. She did not know what to expect and wished that she had asked Carnona something more about the nature of the otherworldly beasts when she had the chance.
Shadows flitted through the ruins. She kept her back to the stone wall and held her staff high.
A dark form lumbered into the half-light before her. It was man shaped, but a huge thing of grotesque muscle, bare skin and tufts of coarse hair. Its hands worked the air, gripping and tearing at nothing, even as its sharp-nailed toes scratched and clawed against the cracked flagstones. Its mouth, a gaping pit filled with saw-like teeth, slavered while the lips retracted spasmodically.
The beast grunted. The sound was loud and heavy, reverberating off the broken stones of the ruined city. The deep-throated call filled the night, and a howl of high-pitched screeches came in answer from a half dozen lesser creatures that scampered out of the shadows and cavorted aro
und it.
The little creatures were only as tall as a young child, but their skin was leprous green and their teeth pointed and sharp. They clapped and jumped and scrambled over the flagstones, working in concert to spur the massive beast on.
The great creature ignored them and studied her. Its dome-like head, free of the tufts of black hair, was tilted in thought, and the eyes that bored into her seemed like pits leading to another world.
And then it lumbered forward.
Erlissa waited. She remained still, though her heart raced in her chest. When the creature was twenty paces away she summoned lòhrengai. It burned like fire in her body, and it sprouted like a shooting fountain from the raised tip of her staff.
Flame, blacker than the night but glistening with the light of a million stars, smashed into the creature and sent it sprawling back. It stumbled, a great arm of grotesque and bulging muscle rose up over its head in protection, and it went to its knees. The imps about it scattered and fled; those that could. Some writhed on the ground, burning and smoking things, turning to ash.
Erlissa shifted the spray of fire. It flashed to one side, and then the other, scorching more of the creatures. They howled and screamed.
The great beast grunted again, the bark of a wild animal, though it glared at her with hatred. It stood, and lumbered forward.
Once more Erlissa struck it with lòhren-fire. It staggered back, but this time merely bowed its head and plodded toward her again.
Erlissa was growing tired quickly. The flame sputtered, and then went out. She leapt up to the wall on the left side of the broken down tower. She was certain that if she allowed the creature to close with her, she was dead.
It came closer. The tufts of hair on its body smoldered. Of the imps, there was no further sign. She straightened, prepared to try another blast of lòhrengai, and then felt something grab at her ankle.
Pain shot through her flesh as taloned hands, sharp as knives, dug deep into her flesh and ripped. She lost her balance, tottered and fell forward within the ruins of the tower.
Something smashed onto her back, and then sharp pain slashed across her shoulders. Small but strong hands gripped her throat, trying to tear and shred.
Erlissa flung herself about on the ground, attempting to loosen the thing that gripped her, but its clutch was unshakable. She felt blood drip down her neck and did not know what would kill her first - the severing of an artery in her neck or the hammer of blows from the great beast.
She let go of the staff and reached back with both hands. The imp on her back tried to avoid her seeking touch, but she clasped it anyway. It felt strong and sinewy. It resisted her touch, but she did not try to pull it off.
Lòhren-fire erupted from her fingers. The imp screamed and let go. It leaped off her back, but burst into flame even as it hit the ground. It disappeared in a stench of smoke and burning flesh.
Erlissa grabbed desperately for her staff, rolled to the side, and surged up. A great foot smashed into the flagstones. Stone-dust and debris flew out from the newly-pitted ground. The creature swung a mighty arm, but she ducked it and stepped back.
The two combatants looked at each other. Their situations were now reversed. The creature had the stone wall at its back, and she was in the open. But she did not think any imps were left. She had but one opponent, and yet she wondered how she could beat it.
The creature stepped toward her. Erlissa thought she was going to die, but if so, she would go down fighting. She stepped forward too.
A flicker of doubt crossed the beast’s face. It hesitated a moment, and then stepped forward again.
Erlissa drove the end of the staff deep into its abdomen. It grunted, a massive hand swept down at the wood, but before it touched it Erlissa summoned all her power, all her desperate need to survive, and lòhren-fire erupted from the tip. A torrent of black flame slammed into the creature and it staggered back. Erlissa followed, the staff pressed relentlessly against it.
The black fire intensified. The creature slammed into the remains of the wall. The great stones shook, several of them toppling from the jagged rim above.
The beast reached down again and swatted the staff. Erlissa thought it would be knocked from her grip, but she hung onto it and pressed it back where it had been in less than a heartbeat. The creature screamed: a horrendous thunder of sound that filled the ruins. Flesh burned. Smoke spiraled into the air. Blood seeped from the wound and boiled and sizzled over blackening skin. The staff sank deeper and a writhing mass of flame erupted inside the otherworldly creature.
Erlissa leapt back. The beast tore at its own flesh, trying to pull out the lòhren-fire that burned inside it. Flame burst from its mouth, and it smashed into the wall behind it as it thrashed uncontrollably. More stones toppled. Suddenly, the wall collapsed and cascaded over the creature. It screamed silently, a long stream of flame shooting from its mouth as it went under.
Impossibly, the beast started to rise, flinging stones upward. And then its flesh withered away. Its arms went first, and then its head exploded with a sizzle and flash of red light.
The creature was dead. Erlissa, sick to her stomach, began to gag, but she was too tired to escape the stench.
She fell to the ground and lay there, exhausted.
A long while she remained still, neither awake nor asleep, caught on the verge of death. Bur her hand still gripped the staff. She thought of Enorìen, of its wild hills and forests, of mists in the valleys and the cool breeze against her face on the hilltops. She thought of the ancient tree, whose gift she touched even now, and she knew she could not give up. She owed it to Enorìen, to all Alithoras, to struggle on.
She rose to her knees, and using the staff as a prop, she stood. Her strength was returning, and with it an awareness of her surroundings. The creature was destroyed. That much she knew, but something new nagged at her until she concentrated her thoughts. There were more creatures. They were far away, but coming for her nonetheless. They approached from the west, from somewhere beyond Caladhrist.
She used the staff as a walking stick and began to make her way back to the Halathrin road.
It was still quite some way to the valley, but she must reach it before those that hunted her. She did not think that she could survive another encounter like this.
15. Thunder in the Night
There was no chance that the Royal Guards could hear him, but Lanrik whispered anyway. Being careful was a habit.
“We need horses,” he said. “It’s a long way from here to the Angle, and a long way back again once we have Erlissa’s cure.”
Aranloth scratched his head. “That’s true, but there are no more villages between here and where we’re going. Unless you mean to—”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean to do.”
Caldring looked from one to the other. “What do you mean to do?” he asked Lanrik.
Arliss was the one who answered. “He means that we need horses and that he knows where to get them.” She made a sideways gesture with her thumb, indicating the direction of the Royal Guards.
Caldring looked bewildered. “You can’t be serious, Lanrik? There’ll be soldiers everywhere. You couldn’t get anywhere near those horses.”
Lanrik winked at him. “You’d be surprised at what a Raithlin can do.” He pulled up his hood and drew his cloak tightly about his body. “Besides, the situation isn’t quite what you think. There are plenty of soldiers, but they’re guarding the track coming out of the swamp. The horses are behind them, out of sight and far enough away that they wouldn’t be heard by anyone coming up the path. At least, that’s what I’d have arranged if I were in charge of the ambush. So there’ll be few, maybe even no guards, with the horses.”
“It’s still dangerous,” Aranloth said.
Lanrik knew that it was, and he knew that he could not hide that from the lòhren.
“True enough. But it’s what we need, so it’s worth the risk. I can’t stand the thought of Erlissa staying trapped i
n the ùhrengai of the fountain any longer than she has to. And the faster we can reach the Angle and return, the less danger for us, too.”
“He’s right,” Arliss said. “Being stranded on foot with enemies hunting us is asking for trouble. Between the two of us, we can pull it off. The guards probably won’t even realize what we’ve done until dawn.”
Lanrik shook his head. “No, Arliss. I’m doing this by myself. The rest of you can go out onto the grasslands and get some distance between yourselves and the guards. I’ll bring the horses to you. That way, if I get caught, you’ll still be able to escape.”
“I’m going with you,” Arliss said firmly.
He smiled. She had nearly stamped her foot in frustration at the thought of being left out.
“No, Arliss. This is a job for one person. More than that isn’t needed and would probably just increase the chances of getting caught.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Lanrik said.
Surprisingly, she agreed. A little too readily for his liking.
He turned to Aranloth. “Keep an eye on her. I don’t want her coming to help me when it’s too late to send her back.”
This time she did stamp her foot.
Aranloth nodded in agreement. The lòhren did not try to convince him the task was too dangerous. He knew as much as Lanrik that they needed the horses. But he did give him a meaningful look, a glance that said to be careful.
Lanrik gave his blade to the Lòhren. “The shazrahad sword mustn’t get into their hands,” he said.
“You can’t go into their camp without a weapon,” Arliss said.
“I’ll have my wits.”
Arliss raised an eyebrow. “That’s not enough.”
“I’ll have my knives, too.”
“That’s not enough either.”
She unstrapped her own sword and handed it to him.
He hesitated, unsure what to do.