"Wait!" It was Tobin's voice. The King walked up to the smith and held out his hand. "I will take care of this myself."
"Of course, your Grace," said Isic, placing the dagger in Tobin's hand. "A few shallow wounds on the arms, I think. That should provide plenty of blood to—"
"I know how a man bleeds," interrupted the King. And then, in a softer voice he said, "Aye, and a woman too."
In one swift motion Tobin stepped up to Laiti, and drew the blade down the girls arm. Blood began to pool at the wound and slowly trickle down her skin, but Laiti made no sound, for she was still unconscious. Jeina had to bite her own tongue to keep from gasping out loud. She yearned to help Laiti, to do something more than just crouch there watching and listening, but she knew that if she revealed herself now her own life would be forfeit as well.
Tobin made a second slash, his mouth set in a cruel smirk, and he raised the dagger for a third when the smith's voice said, "I think we have blood sufficient, Sire. It is best we resume our wait in the darkness as soon as possible, lest the gröljum sense we are here. In the dark I can cloak our presence with some small measures of my art, but while my light shines, they will know we are here."
Tobin took one last look at Laiti, shrugged, then tossed Isic his bloodied dagger and sat down to wait.
The minutes that followed seemed some of the longest of Jeina's life. All she could do was think about how Laiti hung limp on the wall just paces away, her life's blood slowly flowing from her veins. Her friend was in peril, and yet Jeina could do nothing. Twice, she had almost convinced herself that if she moved as quickly as possible, she could catch the men by surprise and dash away with Laiti slung over her shoulder into some dark corner of the mine. But then, she would remember that the men were at the ready, coiled to strike like a rock serpent at Isic's command, not to mention the smith himself. Jeina did not doubt that an armed soldier would have a hard time following her down the narrow tunnels of the mine, but the smith was no ordinary man, and had powers that Jeina did not begin to understand.
The reality that Jeina herself was skirting dangerously close to death began to set in. For some reason, the thought made Jeina immensely sad. She had spent so long in the mountains, being worked to the bone day in and day out, that she had often wondered if death might be more of a comfort than a tragedy. Now, however, when death seemed to be staring out at her from the shadowy depths of the mine, a great sadness burdened her heart. Vague memories of better times began to surface in her thoughts; of days before the famine spent in the outskirts of the Iron City. There, the springs had been greener, and the winters not always quite as cold and harsh. She had friends once, with whom she had lain about in the grass watching the clouds roll through the sky, or played at pirates on the shores of the mountain lake near the edge of her village. A mother and father, too, she'd had, who used to sing her to sleep at night, or read her stories of the famous Jahorn Mountainfoot, who befriended the wild snow wolves of the north and lived amongst them for years. The memories which Jeina had pushed away for so long seemed to swirl about her, and she began to feel the dampness of a tear forming in her eye.
Of all the possible moments, Jeina thought, this was not the one to become sentimental about things. She tried to regain her composure and turn her attention back toward the dark mine and the eerie silence that surrounded her. She was about to raise her hand and wipe the moisture from her eyes, but did not want to risk making any sound and so thought better of it. She could feel the wet warmth of a single tear slowly moving down her cheek, and when she felt it fall from her chin, she could almost swear that it made a small splashing sound as it landed on the rock below.
But then, she heard the sound again, and then again. A soft series of pulsing, liquid sounds that seemed to echo around the cavern walls like a line of soap bubbles popping in the air. Then, she heard a soft groan, a female voice. Laiti's to be sure, as the girl came back to consciousness. Next, a sharp gasp of breath, and a stifled chilling squeal. At once, green light flooded the tunnel and momentarily blinded Jeina. "NOW!" cried Isic's voice, filled with raw excitement. As Jeina's vision returned, she could just make out the bodies of Tobin's men surrounding the area where Laiti hung slumped against the wall. The white clothing Laiti wore was stained a deep crimson, but as Jeina stared she saw something dark and sinewy clasping at Laiti's body, holding the girl up like a shield in front of its crouching form.
Jeina saw Isic unsling one of the chains around his torso and rush towards Laiti. When he reached her, he knocked her aside and threw himself to the ground, the chain taut between his outstretched hands. "To me!" he yelled to the men, "Help me subdue it!"
But Tobin and his men seemed to be frozen in place. Some merely gaped at the figure on the ground in fear, but others began to wave their arms protectively in front of their faces, as if fending off the claws of some invisible beast. Many of them were yelling wildly, crying out for help or begging others to take them to safety. Something else was making noise, too, for Jeina could hear a high guttural gurgling sound, like a wolf with its neck caught in a trapper's snare.
When the scuffle ended, the smith stood up slowly, and Jeina could see that around him, many of Tobin's men had sunk to the ground and sat quaking on the floor, their legs curled up tightly in front of their chests. To her relief, Jeina could see Laiti's body sprawled near one of the soldiers, her chest still rising and falling as she lay dazed and silent on the ground. It was the body beside Laiti's, however, which commanded Jeina's attention. Illuminated by the green glow of the chains that surrounded it, was something out of a nightmare. What she saw looked vaguely like the body of a man, its corded muscles and boney joints covered in a thick grayish skin. The skin was dry and cracked, and reminded Jeina of the stone gargoyles that adorned the lofty towers of the Iron City. There was no mistaking the gnarled claws on the creature's hands as the same Jeina had witnessed trapped in the mountain rock so many weeks ago. Where a man's head would have been was a small and oblong skull, with a thin reptilian snout that ended in a mess of sharp and yellowed teeth. Above the snout were set a pair of what looked like eyes, though Jeina could see no trace of iris or pupil. The eyes were a pure milky white, and seemed to stare out blankly as the creature slowly writhed on the ground. Perhaps most disturbing, however, were the long thin tendrils that extended out of the skull just above each eye. These tendrils seemed to be groping about wildly, moving like thin black snakes through the air in front of the creature.
"What in the hells is that thing?" spat Tobin. He was bent over, as if he was fighting the urge to vomit. It seemed to Jeina that Isic's eyes sparkled in excitement as he said in a hoarse voice, "Did you feel it? Did you!? It was as if the beast clawed at my mind as well as my body! Oh, I had never hoped to see one…sometimes, I did not even believe that such a thing could exist, but now I see one, here before mine own eyes—Your Majesty, this is a gröljum!"
"Ugly thing," said Tobin his voice a mixture of surprise and disgust.
"Fascinating," said Isic. "You see the milky eyes, barely capable of discerning the difference between dark and light, yet it is said that with those eyes the gröljum can see the heat which emanates from your body. And do you see how it uses those long tendrils that protrude from its head to feel the area around it. Why, it looks almost like an insect in that respect. Notice the body, long and lithe, capable of squeezing through—"
"Yes, yes," said Tobin impatiently, obviously uninterested in the smith's musings. "You told me if I captured these creatures, I would gain a great power…one that would allow me to reclaim my homeland and conquer the Blood Marsh. How is this thing supposed to aid me in my cause?"
"Look about you, said Isic, motioning to the men about the room who were just beginning to regain their composure. "See how a single creature nearly incapacitated our whole party? Why if I had not been prepared for something of the sort, if I had not wrought the chain which now binds its body as well as its…energy, we might all of us be dead right now."
"Do all of these things evoke such…such fear?" asked Tobin.
"And more!" promised Isic, his eyes still gazing with wonder at the creature. "According to what I have read, these creatures are said to possess a certain power over the minds of others. It is said that the gröljum can form a sort of bond with a human mind, which will join the two indefinitely, though I doubt that is what we have just experienced."
"I don't feel any bond right now," said Tobin.
"I have not been able to find any text or legend which gave a detailed description of the process. It may be that we are bonded, but yet do not know it, though I think that is unlikely. Some old passages mention close proximity as a precursor to such a bond, but I am not sure what that means."
Isic walked over to where the beast lay struggling and grabbed hold of the chains that bound it. The creature gave a weak, high-pitched shriek as Isic lifted it off the ground, and hung its body against the cave wall in exactly the same fashion as he had Laiti's before.
"So what do we do now?" demanded Tobin. As he spoke, Laiti gave a soft groan from the ground. Tobin looked down at her, concerned. "She's waking up. I should kill her now, before she sees anything else she isn't supposed to."
"No, your Grace, not quite yet," interjected Isic. "I wish to use the girl for one more purpose this evening." He went over to the King and whispered something short in Tobin's ear.
"Fine," snapped Tobin. "Get on with it then."
"As you command," said Isic. He strode over to Laiti, and knelt over her prone form. "Can you understand me?" he asked the girl. Laiti nodded, weakly. The smith traced his finger in a strange pattern on Laiti's forehead and began to mutter an incantation. When he had finished, he helped Laiti to her feet. "Do you feel better now?" he asked. Again Laiti nodded and was able to stand on her own two feet when Isic let go of her.
"You are in quite a predicament," Isic told the girl solemnly. "You should not have left the barracks. You should never have come here after you were told not to. You have one chance to leave these tunnels alive, and that is to do everything I say, understand?"
Laiti murmured in the affirmative, swaying slightly as she struggled to stay upright.
"Does that creature over there scare you?" asked Isic.
"A little," whispered Laiti.
"A little?" repeated Isic, "Why do you say a little?"
"I am frightened, Sir, but…sometimes I feel as if it…it calls to me."
"Indeed?" said Isic, surprised.
"It started when we found the body of the dead one. Ever since, something has been pulling inside of me, telling me to come back here. But…"
"But what?" asked Isic.
"But now that I'm here, I just want to go home." Laiti began to sob again.
"You see?" Isic turned to Tobin. "You see the power which the gröljum possess? They have lured her here, implanted thoughts in the girls mind that dominated any good sense she might have had. Think of what they could do to your enemies!"
"Yes…" said Tobin, the possibilities beginning to unfold in his mind. "Yes, but how to control them?"
"Ah," said Isic, "that we have yet to discover. But, let us see if the girl cannot help us. Girl, do you ever wish to see the surface again?"
Laiti nodded vigorously.
"Then you must do as I say. Do you understand?"
Again, Laiti nodded.
"Excellent. Now you must approach the creature."
Laiti hesitated.
"You really have no choice," said Isic, motioning to the sword on Tobin's belt. Tobin smiled malevolently.
Closing her eyes and wincing, Laiti began to step closer to the struggling gröljum. As she moved toward the creature, its snout snapped in her direction, and a long tongue flew out of its mouth, testing the air in front of it.
Laiti stopped.
"Closer," commanded the smith.
Beginning to tremble, Laiti took another step forward. Again the creature snapped its attention in her direction, and this time the tendrils on its head began to feel the air in Laiti's direction.
Again, Laiti stopped.
"Closer!" shouted Isic.
Laiti took another step, but could not seem to make herself move any further.
"He said closer, you dumb bitch!" shouted Tobin, his sword leaping out of its scabbard.
Sobbing, Laiti walked forward, until she was in range of the long tendrils. One brushed against her and froze suddenly as the creature hissed. Slowly the tendrils began to snake toward Laiti, feeling out the contours of her body. She stood there paralyzed, whimpering in fear but also mesmerized by contact with the alien creature. Slowly, the tendrils seemed to feel out her head, and they began to coil around her neck and the crown of her skull. Laiti gasped, and then fainted. Her body slumped and seemed about to crash to the ground, but it was held upright by the creature's tendrils as they continued to examine the girl's head. To Jeina's horror, the tip of one began to make its way into Laiti's ear.
As the tendril slid in, Laiti's body began to shiver, and then suddenly her limp figure sprang to life. As Jeina watched, Laiti's limbs twitched awkwardly, her eyes swiveled back and forth in their sockets, and a strange spluttering and choking sound came from her throat. After a while, however, her body seemed to calm down, until she stood very still, her face and body slack, but her eyes wide open and slowly gazing about. Then, she spoke.
Chapter 13: Xasho
For miles the sound of hooves thudding into the dry desert clay echoed in Xasho's ears as he clung to Boskaheed's back, glancing nervously behind them for any traces of pursuit. Though the horse tried valiantly to obey Boskaheed's constant urging for speed, Xasho could feel the beast's lungs heaving wildly as the brutal pace and the weight of two full-grown men began to take its toll. Reaching for Boskaheed's shoulder he drew the man back and shouted into his ear, "You are going to kill the horse!"
"Better the horse than ourselves!" yelled back Boskaheed.
"I don't see anyone behind us. We should find cover and risk a break."
Boskaheed shrugged, but glanced behind them into the distance. A short while later, he brought the horse to a halt beside a large group of boulders, which gave some shade from the sun. Sliding off his mount, Boskaheed went straight to the saddlebags and pulled out a large canteen from which he took a measured sip.
"Drink," he said to Xasho, holding out the canteen. Though thirsty, Xasho allowed himself only a small measure of water. He did not know how long it would be before they came upon another source.
"It is the horse you should be worried about, not me," he said as he handed back the canteen.
Boskaheed gave the animal a critical glance. Though they had stopped, the chest of the beast was still heaving. Xasho could hear a slight wheeze in the animal's breath.
"He will recover," concluded Boskaheed, "with rest and water. We are not yet so far into the desert that we will have great trouble finding provisions. Our greatest concern now must be the mudmen on our trail."
The old warrior scrambled up one of the boulders to look out in the direction from which they had just come. Xasho was impressed with the man's agility, for he must have been nearly twice Xasho's age. Following him up the rocks, Xasho stared out into the distance. By now there was no trace of the River Cities on the horizon, only the ripple of ghost water under the sun's heat. It was said that the ghost waters were a vision of every man's inevitable future—the depths of Hesa's watery domain. Xasho could not suppress a shiver as he considered just how close he had come to those icy waters in the past few days. Yet, nowhere in the great expanse could Xasho see the cloud of dust that might indicate horses, or any other sign of pursuit. Perhaps, he thought, Hesa does not have plans for me just yet.
"Either they have given up finding us, or they have gone back to gather a larger party. It would be foolish to hope they have given up. We are only two men…though," he looked at Xasho curiously, "I would not be surprised if they thought twice before coming after you again. What has happened
to you Xasho? You fight like a man possessed. I have never before heard such screaming, nor seen you move so quickly."
Xasho held up his hands for Boskaheed to see. The spikes on the blades had sliced through the bandaging, and the mix of blood and desert dust had turned the wrappings a rusty brown.
"My weapons," explained Xasho. "When I fight I feel every blow wrench at something inside me. The pain is…is difficult to bear."
"Let me see them again," said Boskaheed.
When Xasho drew his daggers and handed them to Boskaheed, the old commander ran his finger along the intricate serpent design and the gleaming metal of the blade. His eyes lingered on the stones set in the hilt which formed the eyes of a serpent.
"Those rubies could fetch a small mountain of gold."
"Rubies?" said Xasho, puzzled.
Boskaheed pointed to the stones and said, "Given the craftsmanship of these blades, I would not be surprised if those stones are, in fact, rubies. They are pale, it is true, but still could be of great value."
Xasho gave an absent nod. He could have sworn that the stones had been clear when he had found the blades suspended in the small waterfall. Perhaps it had just been a trick of the light.
"Where did you get such weapons?" Xasho heard Boskaheed asking. He explained how he had pulled them from the waterfall in the grotto, and of the stone written in the old tongue of the Curahshar which he could not read.
"A pity I did not notice that," said Boskaheed. "I have some small knowledge of the old tongue. Still, I suppose you shall have to make due with those blades until we can find you a true sword or spear."
"Where is it you plan on taking me?" asked Xasho. "Are we to regroup with another company? Do you still plan to try and recapture the River Cities?"
"Of course I do," said Boskaheed. "But for now we have a more pressing mission. The River Johalids are assembling a great rebellion, and they have put out a call for all true Curahshar to unite and throw off the western chains that have shackled our country since the coming of the Church."
The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1) Page 12