Payne dodged instinctively, and the first war bolt phuttered through the leaves he’d been sprinting past. He leapt, dove, rolled into a clear spot, and came up on one knee. He fired as he caught his breath. He missed. One dark-haired Harumen woman dodged into cover; the blond man went down with Wakje’s bolt in his throat. The blond thrashed and tore at the bolt, but it was sunk all the way through his neck. The Haruman started choking. Three arms reached out and dragged the man behind the rocks. One arm jerked back as Payne’s arrow caught it.
He cursed under his breath. Nine Harumen, and only two dead, and Kettre already down. Leanna wasn’t armed except with a knife, and he had a half-empty quiver left of hunting bolts, not war bolts. Only Wakje was still armed for fighting. Payne studied the layout quickly. There were packs on the ground, and a fallen knife. The Harumen must have decided to stop and question Kettre rather than chase the riderless dnu. There were no dnu of their own, either. That would have been the sounds Payne heard. Someone had taken the dnu away from the rim to tether or corral them. There would be too much temptation for Wakje to spook them off the cliff and leave the raiders on foot. This far out in the wilderness in a hungry Ariyen spring, the Harumen would take no chances.
If they had to be caught against the cliff, they had chosen an excellent spot. The rim trail was well packed and curved along the ravine, and a few older trees leaned out like lookouts, clinging with shallow root-balls and ready to fall in the next storm. The boulders that tumbled down from the hills behind left a protected trail along the edge of the cliff all the way back to the forest. There was a seep for water, places to shelter from rain, even shade for the sun if it came out. It was perfect cover, and the Harumen were taking full advantage. It was no less than he expected. Not from men who didn’t waste movement, shout commands like uncertain raiders, or expose themselves carelessly. In fact, nothing moved now except the chill breeze that cut the rim. They were waiting for Payne’s group to break first.
Payne shifted carefully until he could see Kettre. The woman was half crumpled near the edge of the brush. The end of a war bolt poked out of her side, and her hand moved restlessly in the soft earth. Two fingers, then one. Then she grew still. He rose up a hair on his knee to see better—and dropped flat as a war bolt flew out of nowhere to rip through his sleeve. He hit on his belly, caught his breath, then began worming toward the rim. Behind him, he heard rustling and knew it was Leanna.
A low whistle came from his left, but Leanna ignored her uncle. The girl had seen Kettre and was trying to reach her. Payne cursed under his breath, but Wakje whistled again more sharply for Leanna to stay back. Finally, she grew still, but only for a moment. Then she began creeping forward again.
“Dammit,” Payne breathed. Moonwormed girl thought she could play the hero. He caught a glimpse of a Haruman moving between trees and fired. This time he was lucky. The bolt caught the man on his calf, and the leg jerked back behind cover. As he shot, another man burst out of the trees and sprinted to the right. He missed that one, but Wakje clipped someone to the left. Dammit, he cursed under his breath. If the Harumen got away from the cliff, they could surround Payne and the others and take their time with the killing. And where the hell was Nori? He gave a low birdcall to Wakje. He waited till he heard the single soft trill in response. Then he started worming toward a log.
Leanna had other ideas. She could see Kettre, she could see the blood. If she just eased farther right, she should be able to creep up, perhaps even drag Kettre back into the forest. The girl’s heart beat fast, and her hands shook, but she elbowed up to a fallen tree, slid over its rotting husk in the shelter of a large bush, and began wriggling through a patch of grassy vines. She didn’t see how they pulled overhead, bending the branches down.
Far to the left, Wakje loosed another bolt, and a man cried out but cut himself off. The movement south ceased abruptly. Wakje shouted, “Got a bit of a standoff, looks like.” Two war bolts sped in his direction, but he was already moving. They split leaves and earth, not flesh.
Someone shouted back, “I’d say we have the advantage. Your chovas is in our sights.”
Wakje didn’t answer, but a moment later he sent a shaft into the rocks and heard another man curse.
Leanna eased forward from behind a bush. Carefully she lifted the lowest branches. She could see the upper half of Kettre’s body. The woman lay still. Blood seeped from her temple, soaking her hair, then dripping into the grass. The girl elbowed a handspan forward, then another—
And froze at a tiny rustling. Slowly, slowly she looked to the right. The war bolt with its wicked steel head was aimed right at her. The man holding the bowstring taut was expressionless and flat-eyed, just like the eyes of her father. It was Gretzell, one of the Sidisport chovas, and he gestured with the arrow. Eyes wide, she shook her head. He loosed the bolt. From bare meters away, it tore the earth between her outstretched hands. Leaves burst into her face; the shaft slid beneath her arm. She sucked in breath to scream but the man’s flat eyes seemed to burn into hers, and he already had another bolt at the string. He gestured again with the arrow. This time, she obeyed.
*
Nori sprinted toward the ravine. She scrambled over boulders, banged her ankle again, then her calf as she slipped on slick rock. She muttered, then heard Fentris curse behind her. Hunter jumped the boulder entirely and landed hard on the ground.
“You’ll break an ankle,” she snarled over her shoulder.
“Not before you break our necks with this pace,” he hurled back.
She spit out an oath. The wolf was far ahead, sliding through the brush as if he didn’t notice the vines, the roots, the branches that whipped her face. He could feel her urgency, and even with his belly full it fed his eagerness. The hunt, the forest, his wolfwalker—he had everything he wanted. He snarled at her in his head to keep up. She snapped back, and he bared his teeth in a fearful joy.
He could smell the humans now. The breeze blew up over the edge of the cliff, and there was blood in the air, blood and dnu. The beasts were tethered nearby.
Behind her, Fentris stumbled again, and Hunter hauled him up by the arm until the other man shook him off. “Dammit,” he cursed. “Let go.”
“Be quiet,” she snapped over her shoulder. “Quiet.” She tore down their pace a fraction, then halted and dropped to her knees as the trees thinned abruptly. She’d caught a glimpse of dnu in a clearing, so the Harumen had to be close. Her chest was heaving, and she was breathing too fast. She drew back from the sense of the grey. Rishte howled, but she snarled back in her head, and the yearling crept back toward her.
She unslung the bloody pelt as Hunter drew down beside her. His jerkin showed blood at his shoulder, as if he’d torn his older wound. Fentris leaned against a tree trunk, his weight on one leg. She glanced at the slim man, watched him stiffen up, and nodded curtly at his determination. Then she unrolled the fur, rolled the soiled shirt into a ball, and stuffed the bloody garment under some leaves. “They’re coming this way,” she said harshly.
“All of them? Moonworms.” Hunter started to nock his bow.
“No, two. Just two.” Rishte smelled them. There was clove oil on one of them, on the man, but it wasn’t Payne. She would have known. With the man was a female, one from Nori’s pack. That meant Leanna or Kettre was hostage. She could try a straight-on attack to break the girl free, but it was the risky approach. And if it failed, the girl would still be a hostage. The Harumen would want something in exchange. Her scout book? Aye, they’d want that, but they’d want something more, too. Her gaze flicked to Hunter’s belt. She shook out the badgerbear pelt. “Give me your laces.”
Holding his bow in one hand, he yanked the laces from his jerkin with the other. “What are you going to do?”
“What I have to. Go that way,” she motioned sharply along the cliff. “Don’t let them get past you or get to their dnu.”
He nodded and took off. Fentris shoved himself away from the tree and tried to follow suit. He
took five steps before he could force himself back to a run. Then he found the mindless pace he’d learned so young and blanked his thoughts to the pain.
Wolfwalker, Rishte sang.
Her nose wrinkled at his eagerness. He could smell the rancid pelt in her hands, and his teeth bared, as if he would tear it away. “Back off,” she snapped. “I need this.” But her nose wrinkled like his. Gnats crawled on the edges of the skin, and more landed every moment. Gelbugs had wormed their way inside the bundle as she’d run, and they were already feasting on the patches of flesh left by the crudeness of her skinning. She snarled deep in her throat but forced herself to lay it out. Then she wrapped the pelt around herself and began to tie it on.
XXXVII
You can choose
The knife or the bow,
The sword or the stone,
But still you’ll have to kill.
—from The Chevres Play, traditional version
The trail petered out where the cliff had washed away, and the heavyset Haruman ran right out onto the overhang before he realized it had ended. He felt the ground tremble and staggered back onto more solid ground, dragging Leanna with him. He’d never liked the wilderness, and with one of the Wolven Guard in the woods, he expected a shaft in the back every second. Get the girl, get the dnu, hold the hostage clearly, and flank the Ariyens if he could. Had he been on the road, he’d already be done by now.
“Moonwormed trail bait,” the Haruman cursed. “Where are the godsdamned dnu?” He could have sworn he’d led them straight this way to make camp and had tied them there by the grass. Maybe around those boulders. He ran toward them, hauling Leanna at his side. The cliff was tempting. The little bitch would break like a teacup when she hit the rocks below, but he might need her if—
The arrow that was meant for his back slashed past and broke on rock instead. He jerked his bow up and loosed his own bolt as he whirled. Leanna hit the ground hard, then cried out as the Haruman ground his boot down on her knee, trapping her in place. The man’s bolt flew hard toward Hunter.
The Tamrani jerked back—right into the arrow’s path. It tore through his outer thigh, and for a moment the shock froze him in place. Gretzell drew again and fired at Fentris, and Hunter staggered against a tree. The fletching stuck out of his leg on one side, and the arrowhead had punched through the other. Instinctively, he went for the shaft, felt the wash of blindness begin, and grabbed for a new arrow instead. His shoulder was soaking his shirt now, but when he nocked his bow, his grip was iron-steady.
Fentris dropped and crawled up behind a tree to the right. The Haruman threw down his bow, yanked the girl up in front of him, and put his knife to her throat. “Hold, Tamrani.”
Hunter’s voice was harsh. “Let go of the girl.”
Instead, the man tightened his grip. The knife pricked pale skin, and blood began to trickle. Leanna clutched his arm. The Haruman didn’t even notice her nails digging into his skin. He edged toward the trees.
Hunter’s heart was still pounding from the run, but Nori was nowhere in sight. Moons, had the wolfwalker run for her brother instead? “Release the girl,” Hunter snapped at Gretzell. “And we’ll let you go from here.”
“No way in hell,” the man snarled back. He looked back and forth like a trapped dog. “Godsdammit. Where the hell are the dnu?”
Fentris had worked his way to the edge of the trees and now stood with his sword in hand. “You’re lost, you idiot.” As he would have been. He had no idea if Wakje’s group was right or left on the cliffs.
The Haruman took one look at Shae and laughed without humor. “Fat lot of good that sword will do against this. Stand down, Tamrani, or I dump the girl off the cliff like so much garbage.”
Hunter’s arrow didn’t waver. “She’s the only guarantee you have.”
“True enough.” The other man shifted his grip again, and the trickle became a finger-width wash. Leanna stared at Fentris with wide eyes. Her chest rose and fell like a bird’s, rapid and shallow. Gretzell watched Hunter like a hawk. “I can scar her good and deep.” He bit out the words. “And you’re far from the nearest clinic. Easy to get gelbugs or hairworms this far outside of town. Although the wolfwalker has a way with healing. You could chance it.”
“Nori’s a vet, not a healer.”
“The mother, you fool.” Gretzell stared at Hunter. “By the moons, you’re taken with the daughter.”
“Enough to consider her cousin my own,” he agreed. His arm was beginning to burn.
“Then you’ll want to keep her whole.”
His lips thinned. “You can’t back all the way to find your dnu. And you’d better make sure that I’m dead first before you harm the girl.”
The Haruman shifted his grip on Leanna, then stiffened as something moved in the brush. “Stay back,” he started to snarl. Then he caught a glimpse of the red-brown fur. “My gods—”
“Ayuh-chuh-chuh—” The badgerbear screamed its hunting cry as it burst up out of the shrubs. Fentris cursed, and Hunter’s head whipped around. He had a single glimpse of the wounded beast flowing across the rocks. Another beast? Gods, and all of them were bleeding.
On the rim, Gretzell’s breath froze in his lungs. Then he thrust Leanna in the badgerbear’s path and threw himself back and away. Hunter jerked his aim to fire at the beast as Gretzell stumbled, fell, and scrambled back. The creature plunged toward Leanna like a starved wolf—
And leapt over her.
Hunter’s war bolt flashed between Leanna and the beast. Leanna screamed and went fetal as it passed over her. Gretzell shrieked in turn as it whirled at him, bloodied claws, bloodied fangs. The Haruman flailed with his knife, and Hunter felt his leg start to fold as he grabbed another arrow. It was nocked and releasing when he finally saw it. “My gods—” He barely deflected his own shot. Moccasin feet stuck out of the badgerbear’s calves. Black Wolf’s feet. But Fentris was still lunging forward with his sword, and Hunter yelled, “Shae, get back.”
Fentris staggered to a halt. The wolfwalker hit Gretzell head-down, midchest, and drove him toward the cliff.
“Nori—” Hunter shouted. Leanna crawled toward the brush, like an animal, and Fentris went for the girl. Hunter leapt for Nori. He took two steps, hit a soft spot, felt his leg crumple, and sprawled across the root-mass. The arrow shaft pressed against a root, and blackness washed his eyes and ears. He forced himself up and staggered blindly toward the ravine.
Nori and Gretzell were locked on the edge of the cliff.
Tear, slash—
The wolfwalker slammed the Haruman, raked at his face with her claws while her other hand slashed with the knife. He didn’t see her inside the skin; his eyes were blind with terror. He stabbed, stabbed into the flaccid skin and screamed into the fur. They slammed into the boulders and she lost her knife. The metal spanged on the stones. Hunter saw the exact instant Gretzell realized it was no badgerbear. The man’s lips pulled back in a rictus of a smile. He slashed for Nori’s throat.
Wolfwalker—
The wolf lunged from the trees as Nori went down. Gretzell’s blade passed across, then back, as he whipped his head toward the new threat. The wolfwalker seemed to fall back limply. Hunter threw his knife like a bolt. His heart stopped as she went down.
And then Gretzell flew off the cliff like a doll. She kicked him up and out as she fell, and as the ridge crumbled, there was no place for him to land. Hunter’s blade flew right over her arms and sank into the Haruman’s gut. The heavyset man couldn’t even cry out as he felt the air beneath him. He made no sound as he plunged over the edge. He made no sound as he fell.
Rishte sank his teeth into the bagderbear pelt and pulled at Nori as she clung to the crumbling edge. She scrambled back with him, but watched till the Haruman cracked on the stones below.
Hunter staggered to her side and hauled her up. “By the moons, are you alright? Are you hurt?”
Rishte snapped at him, but he ignored the yearling. Then Nori got her feet under her and fel
t the head of the pelt slip back over her face. She was shaking, and the bloodied fur lay on her like a collapsed beast. She pulled at the laces but they were slick with blood, and she couldn’t undo the knots. She began struggling against the skin like a demon. “Gods, gods.” Her fingers fumbled at the thongs, then yanked at them. “Get it off me,” she said tightly. “Get it off.” Instinct, not intelligence jerked at the loops, and they tightened like nooses. Rishte tore at the pelt, but it was loose, and he only spun the wolfwalker around. Hunter barely caught her to hold her upright. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, and they were flickering with horror. Her voice was rising. “Get it off me. Now. Oh, gods, get it off.”
He grabbed her and dragged her away from the edge. She half screamed at him as she twisted in the skin. “Stop it,” he snapped. He dropped to his knees and tried to pin her, but he almost fainted when she bashed his leg. Then Fentris and Leanna were beside him.
“Dammit, hold still,” Hunter cursed. He grabbed one of her claw-hands and trapped it against her body, but there were gelbugs on the inside of the fur, and their flat, wormy bodies writhed in the clots, wriggled by her skin. He saw the scream rising in her throat and slapped her with enough force to stun her for a full second, long enough for him to get the blade under one thong and cut it. She felt it loosen and ripped her arm free, hitting Leanna in the cheek. The girl just ducked her head and held on to Nori’s leg with her small, tight grip. Then he had a second loop cut, and a third.
She shuddered out of the fur as he slashed, and she kicked it away from her body where Rishte tore at it for her. Now the jerkin clung to her like a dress, loose and bloody. “Gods, gods.” Her voice was still tight and rising, and Fentris grabbed the jerkin and yanked it off over her head as Hunter cut it away.
She scraped at the writhing gelbugs to get them off her clothes, her skin, her fingers. She could feel the nausea rising, but it wasn’t from the taint in her mind, nor from killing Gretzell. This was the sick flash of memory. She shoved Hunter away and crawled toward the trees. “No,” she cried out, when he tried to support her. “Don’t touch me.” Blood. The smell of blood, thick and sweet, cloying, fat and fleshy. She jerked free again and bent, rocking as she tried to hold in the bile. “Rishte,” she cried out.
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