If they did stop at Tragoon Bay, they would be at least a day’s ride from Orrock. She didn’t know for sure that they would be going to the Yelsia capital, but it made sense. The road from Tragoon ran east to Orrock and then Felson, before skirting the Rejee Desert and coming to Eddson Keep. Being back on solid ground was her only hope of escape. If they were transferred to another ship and taken south to Osla, she would have no chance.
“We’ve another two days in this leaky stink pot,” Branock said from behind her.
She whirled around and faced her captor. He was sipping wine from a crystal goblet, just as he had throughout their journey. But she’d never seen him drunk; the strong wine seemed to have no effect on him.
“And then what?”
“Well, I can’t give away all our plans, now can I? Besides, all that need concern you is that you won’t have to smell the sweat and piss of these Shuklanians any longer.”
“I prefer them to you,” she said defiantly, but it was half-hearted.
Branock laughed. “That’s because you cannot understand what they are saying.”
She wanted to fight back, to mock and sting with her words if she couldn’t hurt him physically, but it was no use. She simply didn’t have the strength. And then, as he stared at her with his one bright eye over the rim of his goblet, she realized what she had to do.
“I’m hungry,” she said plainly.
Surprise showed in Branock’s eye, which was not shocking to Brianna. She’d hardly eaten since leaving Brighton’s Gate, and the lack of nourishment had stripped her of energy. Now she would eat, and regain her strength. Then, when the timing was right, she would strike. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. He had no idea that the ring Zollin had given her, with its white azure stone, was protecting her from his magic. He was stronger than she was physically, but not by much. He relied too much on magic and filled his body with fermented drink all day long. He didn’t sleep much, but eventually she would find a chance to kill him. Not on the ship, though, at least not on this one. If she killed him now, the Shuklanians would sell her to the slavers in Norsik, if she lived long enough.
“To what do we owe this change?” Branock asked in a mocking tone, but she knew he was suspicious. He would have to be a fool not to be, she thought.
“I’m feeling better, that’s all.”
“Well, I suppose I could spare a little, you don’t look like you eat too much.”
“I want fruit and meat, if you have it,” she said in a superior tone.
“Fetch it yourself, girl, I’ve better things to do than wait on you.”
Brianna left Branock on the deck and went down to their cabin. He kept the food in a large, wooden chest. She lifted the lid and saw fruit there, mangos and pineapple from Tooga Land, figs and dark purple grapes from Falxis. There were also olives, bread, cheese, and salted fish. She found a small knife, the kind used for slicing bread, common to any kitchen, but deadly just the same. She didn’t take it, although the temptation was strong. He would be expecting that, would probably even check to see if she had taken it. Besides, she wasn’t ready to strike, not yet. She needed to get stronger and make sure that once she acted, she had an avenue of escape. But it would happen soon, she thought, very, very soon.
Chapter 25
The roaring got closer as the night wore on. Quinn was in agony. In the back of his mind, he knew what the next step should be. Kelvich should leave him for the lions; he was convinced there was an entire pride, and a large one, considering they were still on the hunt after eating his horse. Kelvich could move on much more quickly without Quinn, and although he was no horse, he might be enough reason for the lions to give up the hunt.
“Only a few more hours till daylight,” Kelvich said. “We’ve got to keep moving.”
“I don’t think I can,” Quinn said. Every step was pure agony.
“Don’t talk like that, you’ve got no choice. I’ll drag you if I have to.”
“It’s no good,” Quinn said. “Better one live, than we both die.”
“I’ll not face Zollin and tell him I left his father behind to be eaten by mountain lions.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Quinn said. “Tell him you woke up and I was gone. He doesn’t need to know the truth—that his father was foolish and pigheaded; that he got himself hurt and then eaten by lions. It’s one heck of a way to go though, don’t you think.”
“Stop talking that way, we can make it out of this.”
“Who are you kidding? We haven’t even gotten to the end of the snows yet. On foot, there’s no telling how long it will take us to get out of the pass.”
“You’re right,” Kelvich said, suddenly. “We’re going about this all wrong. We can’t outrun the beasts.”
“If you leave me behind, you’ll have a chance,” Quinn insisted.
“No I won’t. There’s hardly any meat on you, and even if there were, I couldn’t make it out of the pass before the rest of the pride caught up with me. We need a plan, a way to hold the beasts off until they move on.”
“What miracles do you have up your sleeve?” Quinn asked.
“Not me,” he said in a serious tone. “You! You’ve still got your sword, and you know how to use it.”
“One sword isn’t going to be much good against even one lion, and we’re facing a whole pride.”
“Yes, in the open that’s absolutely true, but in a confined space, where they can’t get to us except one at a time…”
“Even then we’d be lucky to survive one attack,” Quinn argued. “And that’s if we can find that kind of place. But there isn’t anywhere to hide.”
“Yes, there is, it’s right below our feet.”
“In the snow?”
“Yes, all we need is to find a spot that’s melted,” Kelvich argued. “We may have to dig a little to make sure we’ve enough room to hold them off, but it is possible.”
“I suppose it’s better than walking,” Quinn said.
“Give me your sword,” Kelvich said.
He took the weapon and began poking around at the edges of the trail. Quinn leaned back against the cold stone and took deep breaths. He was so glad to be still, his body ached all over, and he was so tired, all he could think about was lying down and closing his eyes.
“Here!” Kelvich shouted. “There’s a place over here.”
Quinn pushed forward off of his resting place with a grunt and hobbled over to where the sorcerer was hunched over. There was indeed a hole in the ice; Kelvich continued to chip away at it with the sword.
“How big is it?” Quinn asked.
“Not sure,” Kelvich replied. He handed Quinn the sword and stuck the sputtering torch into the hole. “It’s not small.” He leaned forward, sticking his head into the hole. Then he popped back up. “It’s big enough to get started,” he said. “There’s a crack in the ice that we should be able to fit into with a little work.”
A lion roared so close they both jumped.
“Take this,” Kelvich said, handing Quinn the torch. “I’ll go down first and then you hand it down to me, and I’ll help you down.”
“Okay,” Quinn said.
He took the torch, and Kelvich turned over onto his knees and backed into the hole. It was deep enough that he could almost stand up straight. Quinn handed him the sword, then the torch.
“You sure there’s enough room for me down there?” Quinn asked.
“Positive, now come on.”
Quinn eased himself down onto the ground and slid his legs into the hole. He felt Kelvich take hold of his good leg and support him as he pushed himself further and further into the hole. Then he heard them; the lions were running to catch their prey, their paws thudding across the snow and ice.
“Hurry!” Quinn shouted, his pain and fatigue totally forgotten.
He slipped down into the hole and stumbled, his wounded leg bending under his weight and causing him to scream. Kelvich was struggling not to fall. Then the big,
tawny head, with its huge teeth, was straining to reach them. Hot, rancid breath that smelled of rotting meat poured down onto them as the teeth snapped at them. Kelvich didn’t hesitate, but thrust the sputtering torch up at the animal, which jumped back, singed. They could smell the burned hair.
“Back!” Kelvich shouted, grabbing Quinn’s collar and hauling him backward, further into the hole.
It was really a crack that ran between the side of the mountain and the more solid ice in the center of the trail. The torch that had seemed so pitiful in the dark night was now casting light in the small space. It was barely wide enough for them. On one side was bright, white ice that was reflecting the torch light. On the other side was dirt and stone, the side of the mountain. It was dark with moisture, and the bottom of the trench was running water.
“A little further,” Kelvich shouted, his voice overly loud in the small space.
The ground was angling down faster than the ice and snow overhead. As they pulled back into the crack, they could stand up straight and even brace their feet on the ice and rock to keep them out of the water. The lions were back, trying to squeeze into the hole.
“Hand me the torch,” Quinn said.
Kelvich passed it over, and Quinn swung the firebrand at the animal, which snarled. It was too far away to be burned, but it shied back anyway. Then there was a pop as the ice near the hole cracked.
“They’ll be through in a minute!” Quinn shouted. “Give me the sword.”
Almost as soon as Quinn had his sword in hand, he felt stronger—which was good because part of the ice roof fell. The big cat didn’t exactly fit in the crack. Half of its body was still above ground, but Quinn didn’t wait. He knew this was their best chance to plug the hole and buy themselves some time. He thrust the sword out toward the cat’s head. He was aiming for an eye, but he missed and the sharp point of the weapon sliced a furrow in the lion’s face, bouncing off the skull. The lion roared in pain, the sound so loud it was like a physical blow. Quinn staggered back, but then lurched forward again. Had he been unwounded, he would have had trouble maneuvering in the small hole; as it was, he could hardly do more than shuffle back and forth. He tried to stab at the lion again, but this time the big cat had one paw free and swatted at the blade. Even in the tiny space, the animal was powerful, and Quinn almost lost his grip on the sword. He raised the torch, which scared the lion and kept it from trying to surge forward, and Quinn swung the sword in a short arc. It hit the lion’s paw and blood sprayed out, hissing where it hit the torch. He slashed the beast again, and the lion was frantically trying to get away, its wounded paw hanging unnaturally from its foreleg.
Quinn saw his chance and thrust his sword forward again. This time he found his mark, and the wide sword blade punched through the eye and dug into the cat’s brain, but then wedged in the eye socket. The creature jerked wretchedly, and Quinn could not hold his sword. It protruded grotesquely as the lion twitched and spasmed in its death throes. The lion’s head slammed into the rock wall so hard the skull cracked, but the animal didn’t feel any of it. It was already dead, only its body didn’t know it yet.
The lions above them roared and paced, but none came close to the opening. Quinn sagged against the wall. It should have been cold, but he was sweating. The lion’s body heat, combined with that of Kelvich and the heat from their little torch, was heating the space up nicely. Only their feet were cold. Kelvich handed Quinn the water skin, and he took a long drink. Even though the water tasted muddy, he thought it was as fine as any wine he’d ever drunk. Then he closed his eyes, and was almost instantly asleep.
When he woke up, Kelvich was still snoring beside him. What he wanted to do was to stretch, but the close confines of the hole wouldn’t let him. Sunlight was filtering down, but the torch had long since burned out. The lion was still there, the sword still wedged in its eye. The animal’s body drooped in the hole and was beginning to smell. Quinn stepped forward and put his hand on the beast. It was cold and stiff. He judged that there was just enough room to climb out of the hole. He looked for movement above ground but saw nothing. He used his good leg to wedge himself higher, so that his head was just below the crack. He was waiting for something to pounce on him, but nothing did. He levered himself a little higher and saw that the trail was deserted.
He took hold of the side of the hole and put his good foot on the side of the lion’s head, right beside the flat edge of the sword that was still in the lion’s eye. He slowly tried his weight and found that it held solid. He grunted with the effort but managed to get his body above ground. He kicked and scrambled his way out of the hole. The air was cold, but not freezing. The ice and snow he was lying on was very cold, and even though he wanted to close his eyes and sleep again, he knew he needed to get up before his clothes got wet. His feet ached from cold and pressure. He had slept several hours standing up, and his legs were not happy.
He made his way to a rock where he could sit down, stretch his legs out, and wait.
“Kelvich!” he shouted. “Wake up, Kelvich. We’re alive.”
He heard the older man grunting and groaning in the hole.
“Kelvich, climb out of that hole, will you!”
“Alright, alright,” came the reply, followed by a fit of coughing.
Quinn could tell something was happening down below, but it was several moments before he saw the wispy, white hair of the old sorcerer appear at the mouth of the hole.
“How’d you get out?” Kelvich called.
“Use the sword,” Quinn replied.
Kelvich was older and thicker through the middle. He got halfway out of the hole and stalled, until Quinn hobbled over and gave him a hand. They managed to get back to dry ground before they collapsed.
“I don’t recommend sleeping in a hole,” Kelvich moaned, rubbing his back.
“It’s better than being eaten by a mountain lion.”
“I whole-heartedly agree,” Kelvich said. “You were incredibly brave. I’m afraid I was cowering in fear when that beast broke through the hole.”
“Best thing that could have happened,” Quinn said. “He took out the weak spot and plugged the hole. I don’t know where the other lions went, but I’m glad they’re gone.”
“You saved us, you can be proud of that,” Kelvich said.
“It was your plan, sorcerer,” Quinn said the title in a friendly way.
“Speaking of plans, do you have any for the lion?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, in some cultures it is fitting to eat the vanquished beast.”
“Trying to eat me is what got him killed,” Quinn said. “I won’t make that same mistake.”
“Good, so what do we do now?”
“Now, we keep walking. And hope that the lions don’t come back.”
* * *
It took two more days of walking to reach the end of the ice, and a third day before they reached the end of Telford’s Pass and found the remains of Zollin and Mansel’s camp. The lions had not reappeared, and although Quinn’s leg hurt him, his fever broke and he was able to bend the leg. Kelvich had washed the mud away and wrapped it with another blanket. It made for cold nights, but that was unavoidable in the mountains.
They were still moving slowly, but they were making progress. The road from Telford’s Pass ran south, but Quinn was in no shape to navigate the woods. They were several days behind Zollin and Mansel, maybe as much as a week, and the gap would only get wider until they found horses, so they decided to go south on the road through the forest. It was easier to traverse, and Kelvich found a suitable walking stick for Quinn. That night they built a large fire and stayed close to it until they were warm all the way through, then they slept on beds of pine needles and new grass. It wasn’t a feather bed, but it might as well have been for the two men, whose ordeal in the mountains had been extremely hard.
Part IV
Chapter 26
Fire burned bright on the horizon. Another village burned. He had s
tarted with small farms and worked his way up to the minor villages. Fear, rumor, mayhem were all part of his plan and he thrived on it. The shouts and pleas of the villagers were music to his ears. The humans had dominated these lands long enough. He would make them bow before him, offer their gold, and then he would move on. This village, like the others before it, had not been willing to pay, so he had destroyed them. Oh, there were a few survivors to be sure, but they were necessary to spread his message of fear.
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