Pulling on a boot, he nodded without interest and said flatly, “You are in great danger, and I must find a place to hide you. I have angered the Master of Darkness, and to get at me, he has sent his demons to destroy you.”
“I know,” she said, holding her voice under control. “It’s one of his sorceresses, a woman called Tiyy. She’s the high priestess of the Black Veshta.” His eyes questioned her, and she added, “It’s true. Jakar, a… a young man helping Brown John, knows the demon she sent.” Her voice suddenly filled with misery. “Oh, Gath, terrible things have been happening.”
“What things?”
As he buckled on his belts, she told him all that had happened, ending her tale with the fact that Baskt had left soldiers behind to keep track of the Grillards, and that they could be nearby now.
He glanced at the shadows between the surrounding trees, more in anticipation than caution. “These soldiers are not the only danger you face. The Master of Darkness has sent the Queen of Serpents’ creatures for you.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked around, trembling. “You mean snakes and lizards? No wonder they’re everywhere lately.” She looked at him. “Then they did murder the girls, thinking they were me.”
“Do not be afraid,” he said quietly. “They have been deprived of the magic which feeds them, and are dying.”
She nodded, and her trembling abated.
“Who is this Jakar?”
“Oh, yes,” she said apologetically, “I should have explained. He’s a Kaven nobleman, but also an orphan, like myself. His sister was one of the girls who was killed, and unlike the relatives of the other victims, he is not afraid to do something about it. He has sworn to help Brown John until the demons are destroyed, and he’s been a big help. He knows all kinds of things, and has been just about everywhere.”
Gath, studying her suddenly excited face, rolled his shoulders adjusting his chain mail, and moved to the river’s edge. He reached deep into the water, came away with the horned helmet and washed it off in the river, shook it dry.
Robin held her breath as she watched him, and fear came back into her large eyes. “Please,” she pleaded quietly, “don’t put it on.”
He turned to her, and their eyes met and held each other. His blunt facial bones were more chiseled since they had last seen each other, and the hollows of his cheeks were deeper, his shoulders thicker. She seemed to note each difference before she spoke.
“It’s… it’s done something to you. It’s like I don’t really know you anymore.”
He moved to the stallion, unbuckled a saddlebag and forced the helmet inside. “You have nothing to fear. It’s going to stay in here. You won’t have to remove it again.”
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t mean that. That’s no trouble. I just…”
She stopped short, seeing his dark eyes flash. “I will not spend my life at the end of your leash.”
“Oh, Gath, I didn’t…”
“I will destroy these demons that hunt you, because I have put you in danger. When that is finished, the serpent bitch, Cobra, will find a way to tame the helmet. Then you and I are finished.”
She hesitated, then said quietly, “You’ve said that before. Not just once, but maybe three or four times.” Her smile was slightly chiding.
“If Cobra fails, I will find another way.” His expression became brutal. Blood trickled from a wound on his chin. “I will not be enchanted… not by the helmet, not by you.”
She hesitated uncertainly and nodded, shyly removing his cloak. She put on her own, and handed him his, saying quietly, “I understand you want to be by yourself, but I’m glad you’re here now. And I’ll miss you if you go away. We went through horrible, frightening times together, but they were also wonderful.” Her eyes became moist, and she smiled to hold back tears. “I’ll… I’ll never forget you, Gath. Never.”
He looked at her a long time, absorbing her and the memories of her: of her healing the wounded wolf and healing him, of her bravely defying the dangers of The Shades to come to him and deliver Brown John’s message about the Kitzakk invasion, of that time when the helmet was about to destroy him and the sight of her stopped it, and of that moment when he held her in his arms and kissed her wondrous lips.
When the memories were imprisoned again, he put his cloak back in his saddlebags and said, “Neither of us will forget.”
The whack of an arrow striking into living meat, followed by hissing, came from within a bush to the right of Robin.
She shrieked, scattering back, and Gath, bursting forward, ripped his axe from its saddle scabbard. With his body cocked like a catapult and his axe weaving in front of him, he planted himself between Robin and the bush, his expression as cold as the steel of a butcher’s knife.
Sixteen
BEHIND THE BUSH
A serpentine shadow whipped about within the bush, breaking branches and scattering leaves, then spilled out and thudded on the moss. A snake with a body as thick as a milk bucket. It was withered, oozing fumes between rotting scales, and wore brown, gold and black diamonds on its writhing torso, the natural jewelry of a Sadoulette python.
Gath’s axe came down, splitting the snake in two parts. The two lengths thrashed about as if searching for each other. One wiggled across the moss, while the larger portion with the head crawled back into the bush to hide. But its poor condition gave it away. Thick green fumes flecked with sputtering blood spewed from the reptile’s mouth and wounds.
Robin, peering over a raised arm, gasped in terror.
Gath grunted contemptuously, letting her know he had played with this kind of demon spawn before. He stuck his axe upright in the ground, two-handed the snake and swung it over his head, crushing its skull against a boulder.
Grunting annoyance, he tossed the body aside like a useless length of rope and stepped back.
The reptile rolled off the rock and plopped on the ground. There was a steel crossbow bolt in the snake’s skull directly between the eyes.
Gath pulled his axe out of the ground, his wary eyes on the forest, hunting for whoever had fired the bolt. Robin cringed behind his shoulder, her large eyes wide with fear. Suddenly she gasped with shock and clutched her cloak tightly about her.
A shadowed figure had emerged from the forest shadows, just beyond the bush. Some fifteen strides beyond the figure, peering calmly between the black bodies of the trees, was a dappled grey stallion. The figure moved, and a young man wearing finely cut leather clothing advanced slowly into the moonlight, leveling a loaded crossbow at Gath.
“Oh, no!” whispered Robin breathlessly.
The young man bowed in reply, and in a formal but concerned tone, said to her, “I’m sorry, I came as fast as I could, but lost your trail in the dark.”
“That’s all right,” she said hurriedly. “I appreciate your trying to help me. But there’s no need. I’m in no danger.”
“Perhaps,” the young man said, doubt hard in his tone. “We’ll let Brown John decide that. Now, move quickly and get on my horse before this large ape turns wild again.” A low growl rumbled from Gath’s mouth, and the intruder waved his crossbow at him. “Just stay put I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”
“Don’t, Jakar!” Robin moaned, stumbling forward. Gath lifted an arm and she stopped behind it, her eyes pleading. “Please, Jakar, I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not necessary. He won’t harm me!”
“Just get on my horse, fluff.”
“Jakar, please!” Robin begged. “Go away.”
“I can’t do that.” He nodded at the dead snake. “This forest is full of these slimy demons, and they seem as eager to tear you apart as the large one here.” His eyes met Gath’s. “Now, if she is truly in no danger, kindly let her get on my horse.”
Holding Robin in place, Gath studied the young man’s hard, haunted eyes. Out of curiosity, he asked, “You are the Jakar that helps the bukko, Brown John?”
Jakar nodded.
“H
e sent you to follow me?”
“No. It was my idea.”
Gath wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand, glanced at it, turning his hand in the moonlight, then looked up at Jakar thoughtfully. “If you truly serve the bukko, ride back and tell him Robin has come to no harm, and that I am returning with her.”
“Yes,” urged Robin. “We’re coming now.”
Jakar lifted his crossbow, shaking his head behind it. “You’re coming with me.”
“Oh, Jakar, please,” begged Robin. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Gath, his head tilting to one side like a cat’s, asked flatly, “Why do you argue? Do you wish to die?”
Jakar, without expression, replied, “I never gave it a thought.”
Gath smiled. He liked the answer. “Go tell the bukko,” he said, and turned his back on him.
Jakar’s face flushed with angry pride, and he whispered harshly, “Don’t turn your back on me, large one.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Robin. “Don’t, please.”
Gath casually dropped his axe back in its saddle scabbard, and began to rearrange the horned helmet inside the saddlebag, keeping his back to the young man.
“Turn around,” Jakar threatened, “or…”
He stopped short as Gath’s head slowly revolved, his brutal eyes glittering behind a metal shoulder. Jakar unconsciously took a step back, lost balance on the soft moss, and his crossbow dipped sideways. Gath whipped an arm around, like a bolt of jagged lightning in the moonlight, and threw the helmet.
Jakar’s crossbow whipped back into place. The horned helmet hit it, splintering the weapon and dislodging the metal shaft into overhanging branches, then bounded off into nearby foliage.
Jakar looked down in shock at his broken weapon, threw it aside, drew his knife.
Robin screamed, “No!”
Jakar charged, more careful now and with agile movements. Gath let him come, his expression almost indifferent. Suddenly he stepped in, catching the knife blade on his chain mail, and drove a fist into the side of Jakar’s head. Jakar dropped facedown in the moss and did not move.
Robin raced to him and sank beside his fallen body, shielding it with her own and sobbing, “Don’t! Don’t hurt him. Please.” She looked up into Gath’s hard eyes. “Please, Gath, don’t. He… he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s all mixed up. He’s hurt, terribly hurt. He loved his sister deeply.”
Gath said, “I won’t hurt him.” He retrieved his helmet, stuffed it back into the saddlebag. “Come, get in the saddle.”
“But I can’t leave him here. He’s hurt.”
Gath, without looking at her, buckled the saddlebag, saying harshly, “If you wish to help him, let him help himself. That will heal his pride far more quickly than your pity.”
Robin hesitated. When Gath looked back at her, she nodded. “I know you’re right, but I can’t.”
“I will not wait here for you to coddle him.” His voice was impatient. “I must return to Rag Camp and talk with the serpent queen! Get in the saddle.” “No,” she said. “I’m not going to leave him.”
His eyes studied her thoughtfully, and the memories of their times together once more passed through his mind. Then he said, “He is your man, isn’t he?”
Without looking at Gath, she shook her head. “I hardly know him.”
“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But you wish to be as free of me as I do of you.”
She lifted her wet eyes to his. “I didn’t say that. You’re the one who’s always saying we’re finished.” He nodded. “We will both be free.” There was no compromise in his tone.
He strode to her, plucked Jakar out of her arms and threw him over the saddle of the dappled grey.
He put the broken crossbow in its saddle holster, mounted his stallion, drawing Robin up behind him, then led the grey into the dark forest, heading for Rag Camp.
Seventeen
THE PLOT THICKENS
Morning sunlight spilled over the crest of Stone Crossing and streamed in wide golden bars across Rag Camp, splashing over Brown John’s huge house wagon. It now stood in the middle of the clearing, and was being prepared for the road. Three elderly Grillards were harnessing a team of four draft horses in thick padded collars to its shafts, while others were loading it with provisions, scraping off its bright red paint and nailing filthy totems to it. Disguising it.
Brown John stood to one side watching, his thumbs hooked in his belt. His body was rocking and his smile dancing, like a puppetmaster pulling strings.
He turned to Cobra, who stood behind him studying the edge of the forest with gloomy pessimism, and said lightheartedly, “Stop worrying, woman! Gath and Robin will come back. I can feel it in the air. Good times are coming now.”
“Shhh, bukko,” she said quietly. “Optimism makes me nauseous, particularly in the morning.” He laughed. “If you’re afraid he won’t go along with our plans, don’t be. He knows little about maps or sorcery or castles, and he’ll listen to me… you can count on that.”
“I am counting on it,” she said frankly, and suddenly smiled. “Here they come.”
Gath and Robin had emerged from the forest riding the black stallion. She sat behind the huge Barbarian, hanging on to him with one hand and using the other to wipe smudges off her cheeks. His scabbed face was slightly more beastlike than his bloody chain mail, and her cloak was filthy, badly torn.
Twenty paces behind them, Jakar followed on the dappled grey. He held the broken pieces of his crossbow, and there was a ragged bandage wrapped around his forehead, just above an expression of angry humiliation. But there was no surrender in his eyes, only bitter resolve, more than the bukko thought was healthy for one so young.
“Holy Zard!” Brown John exclaimed. “Look at them! You’d think Robin was playing the ravaged bride in Up by Lamplight and that both Jakar and Gath had done the ravaging. Well, this is no time to worry about it. They’re safe, that’s what counts.” He turned to Cobra. “Leave it to me now.”
“Of course,” she said. “It’s your plot.” Her smile was flattering enough to make a three-legged chair behave like it had four.
Grinning as if he deserved such flattery, he moved to Robin as Gath reined up beside the water trough. “By Veshta, lass,” he sighed, helping her down, “I am glad to see you.” He glanced up at Gath. “And you too, friend.”
Gath nodded behind an easy smile, and their eyes shared that silent trust and understanding which bonded them, both instantly seeing that each knew the gravity and size of the danger Robin now faced.
“What’s the plot, old friend?” Gath asked from his saddle.
“We’re going on the road again!” Brown John answered, his eyes becoming reckless. “But there will be no army to lead this time. It will just be the five of us.” He took Robin by the elbow, guiding her toward the wagon. “And you, lass, must get suitably dressed. We leave as soon as possible.”
“But where are we going?”
“That will all be explained later. All you have to understand is that from this moment on, we are no longer Grillards, but low, vulgar, outlawed traveling players. The very worst you could imagine! Whores and whoremasters.” The glint in his eyes danced at the prospect. “So you must dress like it. Rags would be preferable, and don’t wash. The filthier you are, the better.”
She nodded, also liking the excitement of the idea. “And my hair?”
“We’ll dye it once we’re under way.” He chuckled. “Butterfly, we’re going to take the stage away from these demons, and your part is essential. Now hurry! Hurry!”
He opened the wagon door and pushed her stumbling up the iron rung steps and inside, closing it after her.
The bukko sighed and glanced back at the trough. Gath and Jakar had dismounted and were watering their horses, as Cobra watched. Jakar’s ear was caked with blood, and it stained the water as he washed his face. Brown John moved to him and asked, “Are you all right, lad? Can you travel?”
&nb
sp; “Don’t worry about me,” Jakar said.
“I’m not,” Brown John said bluntly. “What I want to know is, are you able to drive a wagon? A big one?” Jakar glanced at the bukko’s huge house wagon and nodded. “Good!” the bukko exclaimed. “Then our cast is set.”
Gath glanced at the large house wagon. Its red paint was nearly gone now, and the elderly Grillards were still loading it with provisions. “A long journey?” he asked.
“Yes,” Brown John said flatly. “North to Small Tree, then directly west across the Barrier Mountains into the Forbidden Lands.” He smiled. “We’re going to hide Robin in the one place they will never think to look for her.” He paused dramatically. “And steal the means to destroy her enemies.”
Gath thought about that, then looked at the surrounding forest. “And the spies watching us now?”
“By the time we reach Small Tree,” he looked at Cobra, “she will have devised a way to draw them out so you can get rid of them. After that, with proper disguises, no one will have any idea who we truly are. There will be dangers, of course, there always are in the Forbidden Lands. But those hunting Robin will never think to look for her there.”
“Our destination?” Gath asked.
“The castle of the Nymph Queen… Pyram.” Gath’s eyes questioned him, and he added, “I know, nobody knows where Pyram is. Nobody, that is, except for the trusted agents of the Master of Darkness.”
Gath and Jakar both turned to Cobra, and she nodded without expression.
“Actually,” Brown John continued, “Cobra does not know the way herself. But she knows where we can obtain a map.” He smiled knowingly at Cobra. “It’s in a grotto, somewhere within the Barrier Mountains. More than that, she refuses to tell us… at least for now.” He turned back to Gath. “She will only guide us to the map if we give our word she will be allowed to accompany us all the way to Pyram.” Gath, his hard eyes on Cobra, chuckled accusingly. “Just what is there in Pyram that she wants so much?”
[Death Dealer 02] - Lords of Destruction Page 9