“Flametongue Golem’s Bane,” Raine said upon spying the dragon. “I’ve been worried sick and you’re taking a nap? I called and called. Why didn’t you answer me?”
Kron thrust the sword back into the fire and turned around. The god’s eyes were black and deep as a well. “He could not hear you. This valley is shielded from the outside world.”
“I got in,” Raine said. “Flame, too.”
“Because you were granted entrance.”
Flame raised his head. The Cleggs is dead, Morven. He tried to stop the bad men, and they killed him.
“What about the extra guards?” Raine asked. “Carr promised he would see to it.”
A man brought them drink, and they fell asleep. The bad men came in and there was much blood. Smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils. Flame burned some of them. The rest ran. The building caught fire, and Flame flew away to look for Morven. Then Kron called and Flame came here. The dragon yawned contentedly. It is warm in Kron’s cave, and there are shiny things.
Raine looked around. The cave was heaped with glittering piles of gold and silver, and precious gems. “Flame likes shiny things?”
“He is a dragon and dragons are fond of treasure,” Kron said, rubbing the jeweled scales on Flame’s head. “He will abide here with me for the nonce, for he is precious to me and I would shield him from harm.”
Tears sprang to Raine’s eyes. “Flame, is this what you want?”
Morven left Flame.
“I was trying to keep you safe,” Raine cried. “I couldn’t take you to the castle. I explained it to you.”
Morven left, Flame said. Flame was sad. Flame is not sad with Kron and the smelly one.
“Smelly one?” Raine looked around. “Mimsie?”
Her aunt glided into the chamber on a waft of floral scent. The ghost wore a long, flowing gown that clung to her slender hips. A circlet of pearls rested on her smooth forehead. “Ronnie’s right. Flame should stay here. A dragon can’t go where you’re going.”
Raine frowned. “Back to the Citadel? The rowan will find another stable for Flame.”
“You’re exhausted, dear. We’ll talk about it later.” The ghost gave Raine a sharp look. “What happened to your arm?”
“I broke my wrist when the Shads attacked.”
Mimsie tisked. “My, you’ve had an adventure. You can tell me and Ronnie all about it, after you’ve bathed.”
Raine swayed. The heat of the room and exhaustion were taking their toll, and her head was spinning. “A bath sounds wonderful.”
“Gracious, child, you’re done in,” Mimsie said with a cluck of concern. “Deekie, where are you?”
A gleaming golden man, no more than two feet high and perfectly and exquisitely formed, clanked out of the shadows.
“Mistress?” the little man said, blinking jeweled eyes at the ghost.
“This is Deekie,” Mimsie said to Raine. “He and the others have prepared a bath for you. They’ll see that your gown and boots are cleaned too. Bless your heart, you must be half frozen, wandering around Udom without a cloak. What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t plan on coming to Udom.” Glancing back at Flame, Raine trailed after the clanking little man and her aunt’s glowing figure. “Can you send word to the Citadel that I’m here? Everyone will be worried.”
“First things first,” Mimsie said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see to that arm.”
Raine followed Mimsie into a small chamber where an army of metallic workers scuttled about preparing a bath in a large sunken tub. Candles glowed in notches along the wall and around the tub, and incense burned. The sweet perfume made Raine’s head swim.
Mimsie shooed Raine behind a large screen. “Out of your clothes and be quick about it.”
Mimsie disappeared, and Raine went behind the screen. Her broken wrist was swollen, and she fumbled with the fastenings of her dress. She felt a small tug on her laces and turned. Deekie pointed to the back of Raine’s gown and cocked his head.
“Yes, thank you,” Raine said, relieved. “I could use some help.”
The diminutive man’s nimble fingers quickly undid the fastenings at Raine’s back, and her gown slithered to the floor. Her chemise and boots followed. When Raine was naked, Deekie offered her a clean robe.
“Thanks,” Raine said, slipping into the luxurious garment. “I couldn’t have done it by myself.”
The toy man bowed. He picked up Raine’s clothes and skittered away.
Raine stepped from behind the screen. The chamber was empty. Soap and towels sat near the steaming bath, and a comb waited on a stool. Dropping the robe, Raine hurried to the sunken tub and stepped in. The water stung the numerous scrapes and scratches on her body, but the sensation was temporary. The perfume from the candles and the scented bath made her groggy. A delicious languor washed over her. Sinking to her chin in the tub, Raine leaned back and cradled her throbbing wrist against her breasts. The hot water lapped at the broken bone and the gnawing ache subsided.
With a sigh of relief, Raine closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Chapter 26
The Pursuit
The garhound’s sensitive nose twitched. “I smell blood.”
“Monster or human?” Raven asked, his hand on his sword.
“Human, of a certainty.”
Raven muttered a curse in Trolk and sprang up the trail. The garhound loped after him.
They found the Shads’ camp, but death had been there before them. Dried blood and shredded flesh were scattered about the hollow like bread crumbs from a grotesque feast. All was still but for the rustle of the wind through the winter-dry trees.
Raven knelt on the snowy ground beside a dead man; the body was already stiffening in the cold. Methodically, he examined the rest of the soldiers. Sixteen dead men occupied the clearing. Throats torn, bellies and chests ripped open, they’d been tossed about, gruesome presents opened and discarded. The precise wounds on the bodies had been made by something incredibly sharp. Arms and legs had been ripped off and playfully tossed about.
The garhound growled. “Whatever did this was large and good at killing.”
“Rock troll,” Raven said, pointing to a series of puncture marks on the face of the cliff. “The creature crept down and took the Shads while they were sleeping.” His mouth twisted wryly. “They woke up dead.”
“And Raine?”
Raven felt his halmo stir. He gritted his teeth and tamped down the rage. He would not turn into a troll.
“Not here,” he said through his teeth.
But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t stumble across her mutilated body farther up the trail, or find it stuffed in a tree to ripen. Rock trolls liked to play with their kill. His mind veered from the thought.
There was a hole in the man’s belly, exposing loops of intestine, and one arm had been torn off.
“Haksel?” Raven asked.
“Aye.” The garhound lifted his head and howled. “The gods are cruel to deprive me the joy of killing the soniovali.”
Raven spied a piece of rope partially covered by the snow. Striding to the far side of the smoking fire, he bent and checked the ground.
“Raine slept here,” he said, indicating the ripped blanket on the snow. “They had her bound.” He turned the piece of rope over in his hands. “The rock troll cut her loose, though why, I cannot say.”
“She is with the creature?”
Raven nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Pointing to the boot prints and paw marks in the snow, he said, “They’ve left the main path and headed east.”
“Then we must follow. What of the bodies?”
“Let the harpies have them.”
“Without proper burial, their souls cannot enter Nagrabroda.”
“I know.” Raven spat into the snow. “May they roam the empti
ness forever.” He tossed the rope aside. “Come. We must hurry.”
They found the rock troll shortly after sunrise, stuck to the side of a cliff. Two harpies watched the trapped beast from a nearby tree with rapacious interest.
“Stay back, gut gobbers,” the rock troll yowled, lashing his scaly tail back and forth. “I ain’t dead, yet, and I still got my tail.”
The harpies cackled and flapped their wings, stirring a noxious wind.
The garhound sneezed. “Gar, what a stench. Harpies are foul.”
The rock troll turned his head to glare at them. “If it ain’t Glogathgorag’s precious man cub. What’s this with you, roark, a new pet?”
The garhound bared his teeth. “Behold the terror of Udom, bested by a slip of a girl.”
“A talking mutt—will wonders never cease.” The rock troll’s powerful hind quarters bunched as he tried to free his paws. “Let me off this stupid rock, and I’ll teach you some manners, dog. And she didn’t ‘best’ me. She took me by surprise. I didn’t know she was a wizard.”
“Blederak,” Raven said in a soft, deadly voice. “The lady. Where is she?”
“How should I know? She left in a twitch.”
“So, help me, if you’ve harmed her—”
“Me, harm her?” Blederak’s red eyes flared in outrage. “You must be joking. I rescued the ungrateful cow from them Shads, and this is how she repaid me.”
Raven pulled the knife from his boot and threw it, pinning the rock troll’s tail to the wall. Blederak howled in pain. Saliva dripped from his jaws, pitting the stones beneath the cliff.
“Merciful Kron,” Blederak bawled, “what’s the world come to that a Kronling is attacked in his own home, and twice in one day?”
“Almost, you make me forget my oath.” Raven stalked up to the rock troll. “Tell me what happened, and now, and do not insult her again.”
Sniffling and whining, the rock troll told them how he’d stalked the Shads, sneaked into their camp, and taken them unaware.
“And the lady?” Raven demanded.
“She knew the binding word,” Blederak said. “I had to help her.”
“Binding word?” the garhound said. “What binding word?”
“She never should’ve knowed it,” Blederak said with a resentful sniff, “and I sure ain’t telling no mangy cur, not if you kill me.”
“Tempting,” Raven said. “Keep talking.”
“It’s like this, see?” the rock troll said, watching Raven uneasily. “The binding ended at sunrise, so I wandered until the sun came up.”
Raven imagined Raine at the mercy of such a creature, alone and frightened, and saw red.
“You tricked her, and then you tried to kill her.”
“What if I did?” The rock troll made another fruitless attempt to free himself. “She wandered into Udom, and that made her fair game. Besides, I done tole you. She knows the binding word.”
“The gareeni is alive?” The garhound rolled a nervous eye at Raven. “You did not kill her?”
“What are you, stupid? You think I ate her and then turned myself into a bird feeder out o’ guilt?”
“You try my patience,” Raven said. “Where is she?”
“How should I know? She left.”
Raven turned and strode away.
“Come back,” the rock troll cried. “Sweet Kron, at least take the knife out o’ my tail, or the damn harpies will eat me.”
The garhound bounded after Raven and caught him by the sleeve of his leather hauberk. “Why waste a perfectly good knife?”
Raven hesitated. The rock troll watched him with an unctuous sneer.
“Knew you’d see reason,” Blederak said. “We’re oath brothers. What’s a bit o’ meat compared to that?”
Raven’s halmo roared.
“Don’t do it,” the garhound whined. “It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
Raven’s sword whistled through the air. The blade struck the rock troll in the head, splitting Blederak’s skull in half. The oozing pieces plopped to the ground.
“Foresworn, foresworn,” the harpies screeched, rising from the tree.
Raven ignored them. Climbing the rocks, he pulled his knife free, ducking the monster’s still writhing tail. He tucked the knife in his boot, retrieved his sword, and jumped down, careful to avoid the blood at the base of the cliff.
“Even in death the creature is malignant,” the garhound said, observing the sizzling puddle. “Your blades are sethral?”
“Aye, else they would be ruined. Rock troll blood is caustic.”
The harpies floated above them, screeching.
“There’ll be trouble from that,” the garhound said, jerking his muzzle at the harpies circling the rock troll. “Harpies love to gossip. They will spread the word that you have broken your oath.”
Raven bent to clean his blades in a bank of snow. “That is a worry for another day.”
“Ah,” the garhound said. “I understand well the pangs of the heart, my friend.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Methinks you do.” The garhound sighed. “The one I love is not Durngesi.”
“A stray?” Raven finished his task and got to his feet. “Is that wise? Mor tells me there are rumblings among the tribes. You have enemies, Trivan.”
The garhound shook himself. “ʼTis of no moment. Such is my magnificence, they cannot hope to prevail.”
“The gods punish braggarts.”
The garhound yawned. “They cannot punish me for speaking the truth.”
“Tro, but you’re a modest fellow.”
“Modesty ʼtwould be a form of deceit, my friend,” the garhound said. “I cannot lie. I am a thing most marvelous.”
Raven turned and strode up the trail. “Felicitations. Do I know the fortunate damsel?”
“Aye, ʼtis your aunt, the beauteous Gloriana,” the garhound said, trotting beside him. “She is my morning star, my heart song and siren.”
Raven paused to stare at the hound in astonishment. “You’re in love with Glory? Blessed Tro, does she return your affection?”
“But, of course.” The garhound grinned. “She is mad about me. I just haven’t told her yet.”
The garhound picked up Raine’s scent and they followed it down the mountain. Less than a league from the spot where they found the rock troll, the spoor veered down a steep, rocky slope.
“Are you sure?” Raven asked the dog. “Raine left the trail?”
“I am certain.”
Raven started down the incline. He found scuff marks in the thin soil where Raine had lost her footing…and spatters of blood.
The garhound sniffed at a clump of leaves. “Human blood, but a small quantity. Likely ʼtis from a scrape.”
Raven managed a jerky nod, and they continued the descent. At the bottom of the hill they found an ogre sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.
“What ails the creature, do you suppose?” the garhound asked.
“I do not know,” Raven said. “I will speak to him.”
The garhound woofed in disgust. “I wish you luck. Ogres are sluggish creatures. More intelligent discourse could be expected from a stump.”
The dog trotted off and Raven raised his arm so that the Mark of Finn was clearly visible.
“Greetings, oath brother,” he said in a loud voice.
The ogre raised his head and squinted at Raven. “ʼLo,” he said after a moment.
“We’re looking for a girl.” Raven held up one hand. “Yay high and slender with dark hair. She’s under the rowan’s protection. It’s important that we find her.”
The ogre mumbled something.
“A stone fairy?” Raven said. “Are you sure?”
The ogre winced. �
��Loud. Kogg head hurt.”
The garhound trotted back up. “I have found Raine’s scent.”
They left the ogre nursing his headache and moved on. Raven lengthened his stride, the first tendril of hope unfurling in his chest. They were nearing the end of their search. He was sure of it.
His elation was short lived. At dusk, they were still going in circles.
“I must rest.” The garhound flopped to the ground. “I do not understand. The scent is in my nose, but I cannot hold it.”
Raven wanted to scream in frustration. “We’ve searched these valleys from end to end. I follow her tracks, but they lead nowhere. I don’t understand.”
There was a yodeling yip in the distance.
“Mor,” Raven murmured, the knot in his gut easing.
Gertie loped up to them. “Did you find her?”
“Nay,” Raven said. “The giant is well?”
“Tiny is fine. I treated his wounds and his mother has taken him home to heal.” Gertie looked around. “So, what’s the problem? Why haven’t you found the girl?”
The garhound’s form shifted to a man.
“The mightiest seeker since Durn, and I am undone,” Alden said. “The scent is in my nose, but it eludes me. It is masked by another smell, something strange and unfamiliar.”
“A strange scent, huh?” Gertie lifted her shaggy head and inhaled. “No need to sink into a decline, Alden. You ain’t lost your touch. You smell a god. Kron, I expect. He frequently abides in these mountains.”
“We are being misled apurpose?” Raven said. “Why?”
Gertie shrugged. “Who can fathom the mind of a god?”
“What do we do, Mor?”
“We keep looking and hope Kron changes his mind.”
* * * *
Raven strode out of the dark woods with the garhound at his heels. The smell of roast meat and savory herbs wafted from their camp.
A Muddle of Magic Page 38