Chapter 13
“We’re leaving tonight?” Corian asked as Gildor began to replenish the grain in the sack hanging from his horse’s saddle.
“They’re a full day ahead of us,” the guide said. “The river is fast, but a man on a horse can beat a raft. Especially if they have trouble at…”
Corian’s brow wrinkled as Gildor trailed off. “What is it?”
“The wagon I brought north—we rode past Assurion’s Crossing. There was nothing amiss.”
“When?”
“Last night,” Gildor said and then cursed. “Damn, of course. Last night they were here. They’d go slow to pass through tonight. Or attack it as they did here. But if they came from the south, why not attack it on their way here?”
Corian shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Surprise?” Gildor wondered.
The elf nodded. “Perhaps, that makes sense.”
Gildor turned to the two horses still in the pen. “Can you ride in the dark?”
“It’s been many years since I’ve ridden a horse,” Corian admitted. “But if you’re worried about the dark, I can see better than you.”
Gildor grunted and went to saddle Brownie and Stinkeye. “You’ll ride my daughter’s horse. Stinkeye can be difficult. That and with Bucknar gone, he might be more trouble than usual.”
Corian frowned. “His name is Stinkeye?”
“He had a way of looking at my dad when he didn’t like something,” Gildor said and smiled at the still-painful memory. “They were together a long time.”
“And you’re bringing him with us?”
“Nobody left to take care of him,” Gildor said. “Besides, if we can catch them and get Allie back, she’ll need a horse to ride.”
“Then we should go,” Corian said. “I couldn’t catch my sister in time; they escaped on a river too.”
Gildor finished cinching the saddles and loaded bags and gear onto the horses before leading them out and handing Brownie’s reins to the elf. “This the same sister who was dressed head to toe so nobody could see her?”
Corian gasped. “You remember!”
Gildor nodded. “She was pregnant, right?”
Corian’s face darkened. He nodded, briefly, and hopped up on Brownie’s back. The horse snorted and stepped to the side, uncertain about the new rider.
Gildor rubbed the horse’s cheek and tried to soothe him. “It’s all right. We’ll get your girl back soon enough.”
“You talk to the horses?” Corian asked.
“Thought you elves was into talking to animals and trees?”
Corian frowned. “Perhaps some do. I’ve never seen a point to it. We live among the trees and the mountains because it is what we do. We are not animals, like they are.”
Gildor nodded and climbed onto Patches. “That mean you eat meat too?”
Corian snorted. “Of course we do!”
Gildor nodded and pulled his short bow out from where it was tucked under a saddlebag. “You wanted a bow?”
Corian looked at the offered weapon for several seconds and then shook his head. “That’s not a bow.”
“It’s better than you might think.”
“At what, shooting fish in a barrel? Or targets at twenty paces?”
Gildor shrugged and tucked it away. “Suit yourself. I’m a lousy shot so I figured a smaller bow makes more sense. Good up close, which is the only chance I’ve got of hitting something. My dad could hit a mark at a hundred yards four out of five times.”
“With my bow, I can do that at three hundred yards,” Corian boasted.
“Great,” Gildor said. He snapped the reins and started Patches south. “Where’s your bow again?”
Corian clenched his teeth and guided Brownie after Gildor. The horse moved under him, unsettling him until he got the feel for it. When he became comfortable, he glanced behind and saw Stinkeye following, his reins tied to the back of Brownie’s saddle. Corian scowled. What if he needed to move at a gallop? The old man’s horse would slow him down at best. At worst it might cause a fall.
He swallowed his complaint down. Whining would be the thing a petulant child would do. Gildor seemed rough and rude, but he was a human. Corian could only expect so much from him. Besides, the man was helping him find the place his sister might be. That and Corian did owe Gildor’s family a debt of gratitude for saving him.
They rode on as the night deepened, conversation failing as Corian learned anew how to ride a horse. Gildor was busy studying the ground and staring into the distance, trying to pierce the darkness.
The guide was still staring into the distance when the road forked to the right ahead of them. He pulled up at the intersection and turned to stare to the west. The weathered wooden sign beside the road read Assurion’s Crossing with an arrow pointing down the western road. Beyond Assurion’s Crossing lay the mountains and the great forest of the elves. To the south was the road that passed the Silverfens and led to Easton.
“I don’t smell any smoke or see any fires,” Gildor said.
Corian looked to the west and sniffed the air. “Neither do I.”
“Damn.”
Corian stared at him and asked, “You want them to burn?”
“Of course not,” Gildor snapped. “I wanted a sign.”
“What you said made sense,” Corian said. “About their island castle, Shathas.”
“If that’s where they are bound,” Gildor agreed. “Seems too simple.”
“Perhaps because it is. The man who directed me to you seemed confident you would know where to go.”
“Thought he sent you to my father?”
Corian bowed his head, conceding the point. “But through your father, I met you. I share your thirst, Gildor. I want what you want. They killed my people and took my family from me, the same as you.”
“Why would they go so far?” Gildor wondered. He scowled and shook his head. “Time enough for thought on the road. Come, to Assurion’s Crossing!”
Corian hesitated. “But Shathas is south.”
“I need to be sure,” Gildor said.
He put his heels to Patches and spurred the horse to the west. In moments, Corian caught up, with Stinkeye in tow. They rode at a gallop, eating up the half-mile to the buildings on the eastern bank of the Silverflake. The horses were breathing hard but bore up well under the long ride through the night.
“Hold there!” a guard called out to them from the bridge. “Just the three of you then? Why you out so early?”
Gildor glanced behind him to the east. The horizon was just beginning to glow with the morning sun. He turned back and said, “Two of us; the third horse is a spare. We’re headed south, but I wanted to check to be sure you were safe.”
“Safe? From what?”
“You haven’t heard about Almont?” Gildor asked. The guard shook his head. “Burned to the ground—everyone killed or run off.”
The guard’s hand fell to the sword at his side. “What? All of them? What could have—”
“Splisskin,” Corian spat out. “They—”
Gildor turned and glared at him, stopping the elf in mid-sentence. He turned back. “We think it’s splisskin. We’re following signs that led me to think they came down river.”
The guard nodded in the torchlight. “There was—wait a minute. Come closer so I can see you.”
Gildor rode up and motioned for Corian to join him. He stopped less than a dozen feet from the guard and said, “I’m Gildor. I’ve seen your face many times while I guided merchants and others through here, but I don’t recall your name.”
“I remember you,” he said. “Heard your name spoken, too. Spoken highly, for what it’s worth.”
Gildor bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“What’s this, you have a son?”
Gildor’s teeth gripped each other and he found he couldn’t talk. Corian noticed his delay and spoke for him. “No, I came seeking Gildor’s help. I’m from the west.”
“S
aints! You’re an elf! I’m sorry, I meant no offense.”
Corian tilted his head and smiled. He nodded to the man. “None taken. At least not with an apology such as that. My opinion of your race is growing by the minute.”
The guard chuckled. “Don’t think too highly of us; you’re bound to me some curs and cutthroats soon enough.”
Gildor worked past the lump in his throat and asked, “What was it you were saying?”
“Heard it secondhand, but the men watching the river and road told me that just after Saint Leander’s light blessed the western sky, there was four strange boats that came downriver. Deep hulls with lots of oars. Every one of the men in it was wearing robes with hoods. I heard they didn’t say a word to no one, just rowed on under the bridge past us.”
“They’ve got a full day on us still,” Corian said.
“Not quite,” Gildor said under his breath. “The sun’s not up yet.”
“You think it was splisskin?” the guard asked.
Gildor hesitated and then nodded. “There were many of them lying dead in Almont.”
“In one place, at least, where a great warrior fought.”
“Great warrior, you say? Didn’t know we had many of those around these parts,” the guard said. “Not a full-grown man around who can’t hold his own, but a sword don’t care much for who it cuts.”
“Makes no difference,” Gildor said. “They’re all dead or gone. I’m off to find them.”
“Maybe you don’t think so, but I’m curious. People are going to want to know.”
“Then let them wonder,” Gildor said and turned his horse away.
Corian watched him start to leave and shook his head. He turned back to the guard. “The warrior’s name was Bucknar.”
“Bucknar? Wasn’t he the old mayor? Didn’t think he could even lift a sword!”
“When you’re the only thing between your enemy and your family, you can lift a mountain,” Corian said.
The guard let out a grunt and nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. Good luck, to the both of you. Give ’em hell and when you’re done, be sure to let us know. Assurion’s Crossing remembers what those splisskin raiders did to us.”
Gildor glanced back and met the guard’s eyes. “I remember it, too. I was here.”
Chapter 14
Allie jerked when she felt herself rocked into something hard. It woke her up and made her gasp. She felt like she was falling and tried to grab something with her hands. Her arms wouldn’t move. For that matter, she couldn’t feel her hands.
She looked around and made out the hooded shapes in the darkness. She could make out the occasional twinkle overhead of a star, but they were blocked by dark shapes. After straining in the darkness and smelling the humid and often fetid air, she realized she was in a swamp. The stars were blocked by trees. And if she was in a boat, that meant she was in the Silverfens.
Allie hissed as she tried to roll and sit up. It was no good: her arms wouldn’t move and neither would her legs. She shifted enough to look down her body and see the ropes tied tight around her arms and body and more around her wrists.
She let her head drop and winced. The side of her face felt warm and puffy already. Her neck was stiff and hurt to move what little she had. She stared across the bottom of the boat, trying to remember bits and pieces of what had happened and found herself staring at the scaly ankle and foot of a splisskin sitting on a short bench and rowing.
“Splisskin!” she hissed, her memories rushing back to her. She relived it in a heartbeat and saw her grandfather wounded but still fighting. “Grandpa!”
A splisskin behind her made a noise that sounded like a toddler spitting out a mouthful of food before it kicked her in the back.
Allie grunted and tried to roll away. She couldn’t. She was in the bottom of the boat already and there was barely room for her between the benches on either side. She curled up as best she could and bit her lip. Tears blurred her vision and dripped onto the wood. What was happening? Where were they taking her? Was her grandpa okay, or had he—she shook her head. No, he was too tough. Her grandpa was over seventy years old and he could still do anything.
She nodded as she made up her mind. That was it; they’d kept him busy so he couldn’t get to her while they dragged her away. Why her? That she didn’t know. Unless there were others they’d taken from Almont too. They’d been burning buildings and weren’t trying to be sneaky about it. At least not once the attack began. But why attack them?
Allie grunted into the deck as the boat bumped and scraped off something underwater. She heard the hissing words of the splisskin but had no idea what they meant. They might as well be snakes passing gas for all she could tell. Or care.
The boat smoothed out in the water, letting her fall back into her thoughts. Was it the elf? Had they come looking for him? Did they find him, or was that why they’d captured her? Maybe they knew she’d helped him but they couldn’t find him in the dugout beneath her grandpa’s house.
Or maybe her grandpa had beaten them back before they could find him. Was she being held as a hostage? Was he coming for her? What about her dad? He was supposed to be back soon. What would he do when he found her gone? He’d come and help; he’d have to. Her dad and grandpa knew the land better than anyone in the city, maybe even the entire region.
More hissing noises made her blink away her tears and try to look up. She couldn’t see much from between the benches but the boat was turning and moving different. The oars weren’t stroking in the water in a pattern anymore. The ones on the right splashed their paddles, slowing the boat down more. A thump of rope striking wood sounded somewhere above her head, towards the bow. She tried to look up but a large scaly foot landed in front of her face.
Allie opened her mouth and tried to bite the splisskin’s ankle. The foot picked up as the man stepped forward, robbing her of her chance. She twisted until the muscles in her neck and back trembled. Colored splotches flashed at the edges of her eyes, making it even harder to see anything. She let out a gasp and relaxed, sagging onto the floor.
A breeze swept across the boat and tickled her face. For a moment, the hot and muggy air lifted, but with a heavy thump that made the boat bob in the water, the wind ended. Allie frowned and tried to pick herself up as though she hadn’t tried several times before. This time was no different; she was forced to lie on her side.
Something was different, though. The swamp and the splisskin had gone silent. She could barely hear the water moving against the boat or the boat creaking as it rubbed against whatever dock it had been pulled to.
A susurrus of grass being rustled by wind grew and grew until she realized it was the splisskin, not swamp weeds blown by a breeze. They grew louder and louder until it reached a crescendo and then stopped. The sudden absence of sound felt louder than the humming splisskin had been.
Somewhere on the shore, one of the splisskin spoke. She couldn’t understand him, but his hissing voice rose and fell. When he ended, another one spoke, although the second voice was larger and louder. It was almost as if it came from something greater. Something taller, at least, for it seemed to have a different pitch and echo to it.
The two voices went back and forth for many minutes, leaving her with a growing feeling of dread. What could sound like that? Was it a giant splisskin, or a massive snake that could speak? Every time she heard it, fresh cold sweat broke out on her back and made her stomach twist. Whatever it was, she knew deep in her bones that it was evil.
The splisskin in the boat moved, rocking the vessel while they stomped around her. She cried out as she was grabbed and hauled up. Not to her feet, but carried face down so she was staring at the boat and then the dock when they lifted her off it. The weathered and warped wood passed beneath her and then she saw the clumps of silver-tipped swamp grass and patches of soft wet ground. Allie tried to lift her head but they dropped her without warning, forcing a grunt and fresh tears as her cheek and chin struck the ground and she bit her
lip.
“You don’t understand any of this, do you?”
Allie gasped as the words brushed over and pushed her into the soft ground. The voice spoke her language now, but it had an accent she’d never heard. He sounded deep and powerful and heartless. She shivered from the tone alone.
“Lift her!”
Allie was jerked up and placed on her knees. The rope around her ankles twisted and rubbed her skin, but her pain fled from her mind, along with her ability to think. She was staring at a lizard so enormous she couldn’t take it all in a single glance. Her eyes swept up from the massive hind legs and their gleaming claws that pierced the ground. The dragon’s scales were a mix of golden brown and green, with silver highlights at the tips. They looked hard and imposing, unlike the shimmering and wet-looking scales of the splisskin. The creature’s body rose two dozen feet in the air, to where it held onto trees and pushed them aside as though they were saplings. Great green and silver wings were folded against its back.
The head of the dragon—she was sure that’s what it had to be—rested on a long serpentine neck. It stared at her, blinking multi-colored eyes that left her stunned with their brilliance. Even in the darkness of night, the eyes reflected the moon and stars, seeming to glow with an inner light. They were magnificent enough to take away from the prominent teeth in the dragon’s mouth. The mouth itself was big enough to swallow her whole.
The dragon lowered his head until he was less than six feet from her. “What do you know of half-bloods, snack?”
Allie trembled. She didn’t think she could answer even if she did know what the beast was talking about.
The dragon’s lips curled back from his teeth and he opened and then snapped shut his mouth. Allie cried out and tried to fall. The splisskin behind her held tight, forcing her to stay on her knees.
“I will have my answers,” he hissed at her. He turned and looked at a splisskin with leather sashes crisscrossing his chest. The snake man stood in front of two others. “They were to bring the human named Bucknar. He failed, and brought me you instead.”
Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1) Page 12