Ilbei Spadebreaker and the Harpy's Wild

by John Daulton

  The moment he was up, the rope dropped down again. Ilbei started for it, then stopped, turning back. “I’m serious what I said,” he called back into the cave. “Get yer people out. We’ll leave the ropes here. Since, well … since yer kin can’t fly no more.”

  He got no reply, which he expected, and then he started up the rope just as Meggins had. And just like Meggins, he was fired upon by the men below. Again the arrows—and two steel bolts—bounced all around him, one close enough to make him suck in a startled breath, but nothing worse.

  Soon, Ilbei had rejoined his companions and his prisoner at the top of the cliff. He told Jasper to grab whatever important spells—healing, in particular—that he needed out of his trunk before they once again left it behind. Jasper didn’t complain this time. He did as instructed, and then the lot of them hustled up the treacherous slope toward the hole in the cave wall. Cavendis screamed as they pushed him through the hole, the scraping and prodding aggravating his burns terribly, but Ilbei felt no sympathy. He glanced down at the two dead harpies lying at the base of the escarpment and figured those rotting bodies weren’t remotely avenged in a bit of misery. No, Cavendis had made a bet and lost, and he’d incurred a debt far bigger than could be paid with that.

  Once Cavendis was clear, Ilbei was the last to climb through. Now all they had to do was make it to the opening where the creek came out before their one torch, the remaining table leg, gave out. Ilbei thought that might be a stretch, and he really didn’t want to stumble along in the dark.

  Chapter 35

  Ilbei didn’t let them run down the tunnel, though he wished they could. They were too banged up for it, and Cavendis could never keep up that kind of pace. The young lord could barely stumble along, and he only did so because the pain of being helped, much less dragged or carried, was worse than carrying himself. His only relief came in those moments when they arrived at the intersection where the two caves merged, at which point he laid himself down in the creek and moaned.

  Everyone gasped and panted as they took the time to rest, the lot of them sounding like a roomful of old bellows. Cavendis started to shake, a whole-bodied shivering that rendered him helpless, lying in the waterway. Ilbei cursed the luck and ordered Kaige to drag him out. “Read one of them short healin spells on him, Jasper. Make it quick. We’re gonna be in the dark here pretty soon.”

  Jasper, tired and weakened by his own wound, didn’t argue. He opened the satchel, pulled out a scroll and read it by the light of the torch, which Kaige held for him. Ilbei took the time to go back up the tunnel far enough to be out of the light, and he peered down into the blackness, looking for signs of pursuit. He was just beginning to think their luck had finally turned for the better, when the first speck of light appeared, then a second, and then two more, tiny and far away, like watching fireflies across a pond. The lights were coming steadily closer, but didn’t move up and down in a way that suggested whoever carried them was running. Ilbei jogged back to where Jasper was still reading the spell, and huffed. He couldn’t wait much longer before he’d have to interrupt.

  “They’re after us,” he said to the rest of them. “And they’re gonna see our light here pretty soon, and that will set them to runnin, like we can’t.”

  They waited several more minutes, and still Jasper read. Ilbei ran back up the tunnel. It was only a minute before he could make out the lights. He ran back.

  “One minute, that’s all he gets.” Ilbei waited, counting in his head.

  Jasper finished the spell with barely ten seconds to spare. Cavendis actually thanked the wizard in his way, saying, “I won’t have you killed with the rest of them.”

  Ilbei once more hurried them along, and after what had been barely ten minutes of rest, they were once again plunging downstream.

  The cave was cool and water abundant, and despite such a brief rest, Ilbei thought they might make it without losing their light, which was right when it had its last sputter and went out.

  He looked back into the darkness. He still couldn’t see the lights carried by their pursuers. He didn’t know if it was due to distance or some gentle bend. “Hands,” he said. “Join hands, and keep goin. Meggins, you’re up front. I’ll come behind and drag our friend along.” He took Cavendis by the rope that bound his wrist and locked his other hand with Jasper’s, causing the mage to cry out. “I’m sorry, son. I know that hurts. We’ll get to it quick as we can.”

  Cavendis laughed, then called out at the top of his lungs, “Come on down, boys. They’re all worn out. Put the spurs to it and—” Ilbei hit him so hard that he fell into the water with a splash.

  Ilbei stood over him in the darkness, leaning down close enough to hear him breathe. “I got more’n enough left in me to drag yer carcass all the way back to Hast. You’re gonna get there, one way or the other, I promise ya that. So how ya go is up to you.”

  Cavendis was too woozy to laugh, or perhaps he might have, but he offered no response at all. Ilbei didn’t wait for the man’s head to clear. He dragged him out of the water and reached for Jasper again, this time feeling for his robe and grabbing him by the belt. “That’ll hurt less,” he said, to which Jasper agreed.

  It was a long string of hours in the darkness. Cavendis called out twice more to the men that were following them. Both times, Ilbei busted him in the head, and both times bought them a degree of silence for a time.

  Cavendis was just beginning to murmur again, the blood filling his mouth giving his voice a liquid quality, when Meggins called back that he saw the opening. “There,” he said. “Finally, the ever-loving daylight.”

  “Praise the goddess, there it is,” Ilbei said. Like drooping blooms resurrected by a sunrise, the weary party found their energy again. Their pace quickened—all but Cavendis, who tried to lean back against Ilbei’s hold on the ropes. For raw power, Cavendis was but a child beside Ilbei, and Ilbei yanked him forward so hard he landed face first in the shallows of the stream. Ilbei jerked him to his feet and tugged him along again, roughly when he had to, and soon they had reached the nearly blinding patch of daylight.

  They hunkered down against the wall, and Ilbei considered how best to approach the hole. If some of the Skewer’s men were still out there—or even the Skewer himself, perhaps sent back by that teleporting Ivan Gangue—then they were trapped, caught between the proverbial dragon and the manticore. He didn’t want to ask any of his men to be first to look out, so he handed Cavendis off to Kaige.

  “Go ahead and bust him to sleep if he calls out again,” Ilbei said. “I was only bein nice on account of us havin to run along in the dark.”

  “Sure thing, Sarge.” Kaige gave Cavendis a great big grin and sat watching him hopefully.

  Cavendis shook his head. His face was a bloody mess, and his lower lip was split wide open. “You’re a few days from the headsman’s axe, Spadebreaker, so enjoy your time while it lasts.” His words were slurred by the blood and swelling.

  “That count, Sarge?” Kaige asked.

  “No.”

  Ilbei crawled up the hole, careful not to get into the water until he had to. He knew from having been outside that being in the water changed the flow, which would announce that he was there. He craned his neck, bobbed back and forth, looking out as far as he could see, which wasn’t much, and crawled into the narrow opening.

  The water backed up behind him, his broad frame filling the narrow passage fairly tight. He wondered if maybe it wouldn’t have been smarter to send Meggins after all. But he was committed to it, so he kept on. The water rose up to his ribs as he squeezed toward the opening, splashing and whirling all around. It wasn’t quite enough pressure to wash him out as it had Meggins the first time he came in, but it was enough to make Ilbei work to brace himself. If someone was taking aim at that hole when he stuck his head out, he was going to be the apple in the pig’s mouth for the time it took to fight his way back in.

  As he came to the edge, the heat of a hot summer day blasted him like opening an ov
en. He might have welcomed it after having been underground so long, but the anticipation of an arrow to the face takes those sorts of satisfactions away. With no other way to go about it, he drew in a breath and put his head outside.

  There were Hams, Corporal Trapfast and the two new recruits, the sisters Decia and Auria. Sitting on the ground not far from the corporal were two other men, their feet and wrists bound and both of them looking miserable.

  “Hams, by the gods, look at ya sittin there like sweet salvation on a hot rock!”

  Hams swung round and saw Ilbei poking out of the turbulent spew. He waved, a big, welcoming smile on his face. “Well, you took too damned long in getting back, so we come looking for you. We tracked you this far and found these two. Me and Decia here was just arguing over who ought to go in there after you.”

  “Well, we’re comin out. And we got a few fools behind meanin us no good. Like as not, there’s others on the way from up the hill, so get all yer gear packed. We need to get movin quick.” Hams waved in a way that confirmed he’d get right to it, and Ilbei went back to share the good news.

  Once they’d gotten everyone out of the cave, they decided not to waste any more time than it took for Jasper to read healing spells for himself and Kaige. Mags insisted she was fine, and Ilbei did likewise, regaining strength mainly from a long draught off of Hams’ wineskin.

  Ilbei decided to cut a straight line for Hast, determined to keep clear of the trees and use the open country for speed. “They’ll expect us to head fer the Desertborn,” he said. “So let’s just hightail it direct along the desert’s edge like we planned.”

  It was agreed upon, and they loaded up as much water as they could carry—and no help to be had from the packhorse, which had wandered off beyond any range they cared to pursue. Soon enough, they were on their way to Hast, moving with all due haste. Ilbei wanted to gain the remainder of the day on those who were in pursuit.

  By the time the cruel sun was slipping down behind the far end of the world, Ilbei and his company were exhausted. Grateful for the pleasant evening temperatures, they were able to sleep under the stars and spared the effort of pitching tents. Hams and his people volunteered to take all the night’s watches, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, they slept. Ilbei snored so loud the crickets wouldn’t chirp for a quarter measure round.

  When he woke the next morning and discovered that no one had come near in the night, he dared to think they might be on the brink of a genuine getaway, though he knew the day ahead would be a tough one. Cutting across the bottom fringes of the Sandsea would be rough. The heat would be terrible, if yesterday’s temperatures were any indication, but after, they’d have an easy way of it and could make Hast two evenings hence if they wasted no time.

  After a quick meal of snake-belly bacon, as Hams called it, and boiled apples, they were underway again, the party’s spirits high—and kept that way for Cavendis’ having been gagged again. He trundled along behind the group, tied to the other two prisoners like mules in a pack train. The nobleman looked absurd in one of the makeshift hats Hams had made for him and the other two. It was a wide, floppy thing, woven from deer grass, and Cavendis had sneered at it when Hams approached him with it. But the seasoned old cook had patted it down on his head anyway. “You can knock it off if you’d like,” Hams had said. “But I won’t pick it up again. If you die of heatstroke out here, I got no reason to mourn you.” He glanced briefly about and added, “Doesn’t seem like any of these others do either.”

  “I know I don’t,” Meggins said. “For all I care, he can lie out here until the vultures come pick his eyes out.”

  “Or the harpies do,” Jasper said, feeling much better now that his wrist was healed and they were on their way back to something approaching civilization. “They eat carrion as well, and they are, as you are aware, known to frequent the area.” He made his odd breathy laugh and looked to Meggins for approval at his having entered the taunting fray.

  Meggins rewarded him with a grin, saying, “Not much on delivery, Jasper, but the material was good.” Jasper was more than satisfied with the assessment, and unfortunately for the rest, in its aftermath he felt suddenly quite companionable. This amicability resulted in a half-day monologue on the health and social benefits of humor, in particular in a hospital setting, which was, of course, derived from an extensive study he’d read only a few months ago in the Healers Guild publication The Crown City Journal on Health.

  During the first part of Jasper’s dissertation, the travelers were too eager to get home to interrupt, and by the time the morning was growing short and the sun had scaled the summit of the sky, they were too hot to expend any energy in cutting him off. And so he rambled on and on, the rest ignoring him and conserving their energy and water as they went along.

  And then a long, silvery shaft of metal streaked by Meggins’ head and plunged into the sand not far from Auria, who was walking alongside him being regaled by his stories and manifest charms. She stopped when she heard the tick of it sliding into the sand, then stooped and pulled it free. She studied it, twisting it so the light glinted down its length, her brows down low, having never seen such a thing. “What in the Queen’s name is this?”

  “Ain’t the Queen, missy, that there is the Skewer.” Ilbei had already spun round, scanning the shimmering sands behind them, his hand an extension of his helmet brim. “Can’t see a damned thing,” he said. “Glare is terrible. We need to get movin.”

  “There!” Mags called out. “East.”

  Ilbei turned and squinted that way. Sure enough, he could see riders coming through the blur of the heat rising off the sand. He counted eighteen.

  “Tidalwrath’s teeth! That’s damn near a score of them bastards, and mounted.”

  “I didn’t think there were that many horses up there,” Meggins said. “Where were they hiding them?”

  “Who knows? But we’re in fer it now.”

  Another steel crossbow bolt flew in. It landed only inches from the corporal’s feet. The corporal pulled his bow off his back. Meggins and Decia readied theirs right after. Auria pulled a boomerang from her belt, at which Ilbei shook his head. But it didn’t much matter what they used; those bows, that boomerang, none of them had the range to compete with the Skewer’s mighty crossbow but one. Only Meggins’ could, and Ilbei saw straight away he only had six of the enchanted black arrows left.

  “Make yer shots count, people.”

  Hams moved up to stand beside Ilbei, carrying a javelin in each hand. “You want one?” he asked.

  Ilbei shook his head. “I’m worse with them things than I am at tavern darts.”

  “I’m not,” Kaige said. Hams tossed him one. Kaige hefted it in a way that assured Ilbei the man had thrown a lot of them, and that gave him cause to hope. Maybe they could get clear of this fight too. He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected something like this, but he had allowed himself hope that they would have a bit longer stretch of luck. He should have known better, what with them having a teleporter on hand.

  The sun hit the incoming shaft on the way in, and Meggins stepped out of its way just in time. It would have cut straight through his heart. “Why’s he picking on me?” he said. “What did I ever do?”

  “I expect it’s that bow of yers,” Ilbei said. “Though I’m surprised he can even make out which one of us ya are from there. Never seen anythin shoot that far.”

  “Well, he’s still out of my range,” Meggins said. “But not for long.”

  Soon after, the exchange began. They did have the advantage of the sunlight lighting up streaks of the Skewer’s bolts for a time, at least so long as he was relying on the arc. But it wasn’t long before he was able to level the weapon and fire straight on.

  Meggins sent an arrow at him when he was just outside of a hundred spans. The Skewer dodged sideways, leaning in his saddle, and the arrow blasted the rider behind him off his horse. Meggins cheered. “I’ll take luck over skill any day! Seventeen to go.” T
hen he swore and staggered back, one of the long crossbow bolts through his side, in through the left side of his stomach and protruding three full hands out the back.

  “Meggins!” Kaige cried, and both he and Mags rushed to the man.

  “Jasper, can ya get us another one of them fog spells?” Ilbei asked. No reply followed, and Ilbei spun left, then right, afraid that he would find Jasper lying dead with one of those wicked steel shafts in him. But Jasper merely gaped into the distance, his pale flesh whiter than usual, transfixed by fear, seemingly unwilling to believe they were in combat again. “By the gods, man! Jasper, snap to.”

  Jasper turned, blinking as if just awakened from a dream.

  “Fog, son. Can ya do the fog trick again?”

  Jasper looked as if he were trying to recall something from the most distant past, but slowly began to shake his head. One of the Skewer’s arrows whistled past, right over his shoulder, and buried itself a half-span deep in the sand less than a pace away. Fortunately, the addled wizard didn’t realize what it was. “I can, but the heat will burn it off too fast.” He turned numbly toward the oncoming charge. “I don’t think I can get it read in time.”

  “Well, we’re in the jaws of it, then. Here they come.”

  Another steel shaft shot straight through Jasper’s satchel as he fumbled in it, looking for anything he might use. The force of the impact drove through the thrown-back flap, the front cover, the interior divider, and the back cover, all of them. And despite the layers of leather shielding, it managed to pierce the skin of the slender wizard’s hip, though hardly deeper than the first joint of his little finger. Still, one might have thought he’d been decapitated and thrown in burning oil for how he screamed, falling to the sand and writhing about in agony.

  The horsemen were within forty spans, and that was close enough for Ilbei. He drew his pickaxe and charged. “Ain’t waitin fer another one,” he said, and ran through the sand as fast as his bowlegged strides would carry him, angling side to side as randomly as he could, intent on making himself at least marginally hard to shoot. He saw the shadow pass just as he prepared to heave his pickaxe at the Skewer, and there came across the line of riders a streak of black and gray. Miasma!