The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 24

Fardale's nose tickled the path the talon had taken across Mogweed's hand, his breath hot upon his brother's wound. Seemingly satisfied, Fardale pulled back. He darted around and trotted down the tunnel several steps. "Where are you going?" Mogweed asked. Fardale glanced over his shoulder at him. A she-wolf crouches and protects her litter from the hidden snake in the gra.s.s. His brother then loped after the glowing bird. "Wait!"

But Fardale did not even slow. Soon Mogweed was alone again. Out of the rain and with the entrance somewhat protected by the drape of roots, he should be relatively comfortable and safe. Still, his heart thundered blood through his ears as he strained to listen for his brother's padding footfalls. Mogweed's hands kept clutching at his neck, protecting his throat.

The strangeness of the bird had spooked him. As a denizen of the Western Reaches, he was familiar with most winged creatures. But the likes of that bird were unseen in his lands. Maybe they were common here in the human lands, but somehow he sensed the bird was a foreigner here, too. The bird seemed out of place with this forest, a creature of another world.

As he waited, pondering the bird, the storm lulled and the constant background rattle of rain quieted. At least the worst of the storm seemed to be blowing itself out. With the disappearance of the rain, a new noise arose. Maybe it had always been there, with the patter of rain masking it. Or maybe it had just started.The sound did not come from outside his hiding place, but from somewhere down the tunnel-where both the bird and his brother had vanished.

The noise raised the tiny hairs on his arm.

Fardale's final words to him now seemed foretelling: A she-wolf crouches and protects her litter from the hidden snake in the gra.s.s. The noise, a soft hissing that rose and fell as if the tunnel itself breathed, flowed toward him from deep in the tunnel, like a thousand unseen snakes.

Suddenly a sharp howl pierced the soft hiss. It was a howl of pain, a howl Mogweed had come to know-Fardale's howl.

A deep silence followed, and it weighed on Mogweed's heart like a stone.

"I KNOW NOTHING OF A WIT'CH," TOL'CHUK SAID, EYING each of the three strangers.

Though the large man bearing the threatening ax should have drawn most of the og're's attention, it was the gaunt man with the braided silver hair who kept Tol'chuk wary. The man's persistent sneer hovering below hooded eyes silently warned at a danger sharper than an ax blade.

"This be none of my concern," Tol'chuk continued. "I bid you well on your journeys." He rested a hand over his fanged lips in an og're gesture of peaceful intent, though he was unsure if they would understand the motion. Backing from the trio, he maintained his guard.

"Wait," the small woman said, struggling to overcome her initial fear. She wiped strands of streaming hair from her wet face. "This is a black night, full of danger. Beware these woods."

Tol'chuk paused his retreat. He noticed the woman give the skinny man a brief glance with her warning.

"There are beasts, black of heart, loose in the woods," she continued, "hunting for friends of ours. Be careful."

Tol'chuk thought of his own companions traipsing blithely through the wet woods. "I, too, have friends in these woods. What sort of-"

Suddenly a piercing howl broke through the slowing patter of rain. All eyes swung in the direction of the cry. As quickly as it had pierced the night, the sound faded away.

"Wolves," grumbled the ax man.

"No, one of my friends," Tol'chuk said, recognizing the voice of his wolf companion. "Fardale be attacked. I must help him." The og're started in the direction of the howl.

"Hold, og're," said the thick-bearded man, hefting his ax higher. "If you would have me, I will join you. It may be one of the foul beasts that we drew into the mountains that attacks your party. If so, you will need my help."

"Yes," said the small woman. "Krai is right. Allow us both to accompany you."

"No, Nee'lahn," the large man said. "It's too dangerous."

"Nowhere in this wood is safe this night. I'm coming."

Tol'chuk balked at accepting their a.s.sistance but had no time to argue. Without a word, he turned and lumbered in the direction of the howl. He noticed the gaunt man followed.Nee'lahn noticed, too. "Elv'in, you are not welcome. Be gone on your dark pursuits and leave us be."

"Oh, I was not coming to help you," he said as he strode after them. "It just so happens this is the path my moon'falcon flew."

"Your pursuits are folly. No king of yours was left among the lands."

"So your kind has always claimed."

"Quiet!" Krai barked. "Enough of your bickering. You'll draw the beasts upon us. From here we proceed in silence."

Tol'chuk wordlessly thanked the bearded man. Why did these races need to spout continuously? Even Mogweed, with no other to talk to, carried on tiresome monologues, as if the sound of his own voice brought him pleasure.

With a nagging worry for his talkative companion, Tol'chuk led the party over the ridge and down the next slope. Due to the steep grade, the slope was tricky to maneuver, but piles of crumbling rock dotted the way ahead, offering footholds among the slippery cascade of wet leaves and mud. The party quickly maneuvered from stone to stone down the ridge to the floor of the hollow.

Once safely off the slope, Tol'chuk stood hesitantly. It had sounded as if the cry had come from somewhere nearby, but the woods fouled his senses. Where should he go? Suddenly motion caught his eye. He twisted and saw Mogweed, his back to Tol'chuk's party, struggling among the roots of a large black oak as if the tree itself were attacking him. After a heartbeat, Tol'chuk recognized the characteristic black eye of a cavern opening beyond the man. Mogweed was blindly fighting his way out, dragging his pack after him. It ripped loudly on a snagging rootlet. As his pack snapped free, he was flung around to face the group. At the sight of the cl.u.s.ter of strangers, Mogweed's mouth dropped open, and he scooted back to the pile of roots.

Tol'chuk stepped forward. "You be safe, Mogweed. These folk will not harm you."

Mogweed swallowed several times, trying to free his tongue. He jabbed an arm toward the hidden cavern entrance. "Far... Fardale is in trouble."

"I heard your brother's cry," Tol'chuk said. "What happened? Where be your brother now?"

"A bird... Some cursed glowing hawk lured him deeper into the tunnel."

"The moon'falcon!" Nee'lahn cried behind Tol'chuk, her voice sharp with indignation. "It was the elv'in's bird! See, I told you. He is not to be trusted."

"My pet did not harm your friend," the elv'in argued, "unless he was foolish enough to threaten the bird.

My falcon is simply trained to survive-like all elv'in."

As Tol'chuk swung around to face the others, he found the eyes of the woman called Nee'lahn narrowed with hate as she stared at the thin man, but before she could utter another word, the bearded mountain man rumbled at them both. "I do not care about old quarrels." He stabbed a finger at the thin man. "You, elv'in, what is this tunnel? And-"

A palm snapped up, interrupting Krai. "First of all, my name is Meric, of the House of Morning Star, not elv'in. And I know nothing of this tunnel. My falcon flies upon the trail of our lost king. He chose this subterranean route, not I.""He lies!" spat Nee'lahn.

"I am not here to sway you." Meric twisted on a narrow heel and strode toward the entrance to the tunnel. Mogweed danced out of his way. Apparently, like Tol'chuk, his companion sensed the palpable danger emanating from the man.

Tol'chuk, though, followed Meric, feeling responsible for Fardale. The present fate of his companion was partly his fault. He should not have lagged so far behind the others. If he had been with them, perhaps he could have stopped whatever had attacked Fardale. Few things pierced an og're's protection.

Ahead, Meric bent in half to enter the tunnel, slipping between the s.h.i.+eld of oak roots with nary a struggle. Tol'chuk, though, realized the century-thick roots would bar his way. He pulled at a few of the roots, but even an og're could not uproot an ancient oak gripping firm to rock and soil. From between the roots, he saw Meric pull a clear stone from his pocket and rub it between his palms. Then he blew upon it, as if bringing a dying ember back to life, and a greenish light burst from the stone. With the light held before him, Meric disappeared down the tunnel.

Tol'chuk sensed someone at his back. Krai, the mountain man, spoke from behind his shoulder. "Let me chop a way inside."

Tol'chuk stepped back to give Krai's ax room to swing.

"Stop!" Nee'lahn flew forward, raised a tiny hand, and pushed the huge ax aside. "This tree did no harm." She placed her palms reverently on the roots, as a child might touch an elder. After bowing her head for a single heartbeat, she merely pushed the roots aside, as if sweeping back the leather flap to one of Tol'chuk's home caves. Having tested the tenacity of the roots with his own muscle, Tol'chuk was awed by the power behind those small hands.

He was not the only one impressed. Tol'chuk heard a grunt of surprise from Mogweed, who huddled under his shadow. "A nyphai," Mogweed said with wonder in his voice. "I thought all the tree singers were long dead."

Mogweed's words were ignored, though Tol'chuk noticed his companion studied the small woman with a measuring glance, his eyes narrowed.

"Nee'lahn," Krai said, drawing Tol'chuk's attention, "considering your view of the elv'in, perhaps it would be best if you returned to Rockingham. The og're and I can handle this."

The small woman seemed about to argue, but Krai continued. "Besides, Rockingham has been trussed up for some time now. I'm sure his wrists are sore."

Though Tol'chuk did not understand of whom Krai spoke, the look of concern on Nee'lahn's face suggested Krai had won her over. Still, Tol'chuk had his own concerns. "But the wood be not safe for a female alone," he said, slightly surprised at his own heartfelt worry for the tiny woman.

"Thank you for your concern, og're," she said coldly. His consideration seemed inadvertently to offend her. "But among trees, I have no fear."

Mogweed spoke up, his voice faltering as he stared at the black tunnel. "I... I can... go with her for her safety."

Krai swung around before anyone else could speak. "It's decided then." Hunched, the mountain man entered the tunnel first, squeezing past the roots that were already bending back toward the opening. He marched, back bent, down the stone tunnel.Tol'chuk followed, crouching on the knuckles of one arm to climb inside the pa.s.sage.

"Be careful," Nee'lahn called. "And beware the elv'in."

Tol'chuk did not answer, fearful of again insulting the woman, and only followed Krai's back.

Soon the weak light of the night forest faded behind them. Even the eyes of an og're had difficulty judging the shades of darkness. He heard Krai grunt as he tumbled into unseen obstacles. "That Meric and his light can't be too much farther ahead," Krai said as he paused to rub at a bruised s.h.i.+n.

Tol'chuk stayed silent. A buzzing noise, so faint even his sharp ears could barely discern it, kept him distracted from Krai's observations. He poked and rubbed inside one of his ears, unsure if the noise came from inside his head or from the tunnel.

Krai continued, and the sc.r.a.pe of his boot on rock obliterated the sound. Tol'chuk followed, ears straining. As they rounded a corner in the stone tunnel, his ears no longer had to strain. The buzzing noise was now loud enough to be heard even over the scuff of Krai's boot.

The mountain man stopped and listened. "What's that noise?" Krai whispered.

Tol'chuk by now could discern a faint glow coming from around the next corner. "There be a light," he said softly and pointed ahead.

Krai crept forward, now careful not to sc.r.a.pe his heel on the crumbling rock. Tol'chuk tried to imitate his stealth, but his claws would not cooperate. He sounded like a scuttling cave crab.

As they neared the corner, the light ahead grew brighter as the source flowed toward them. "Someone comes," Krai breathed.

"Be it Meric?" With Tol'chuk's words, a small stone, glowing a greenish light, rolled around the corner and bounced to the tip of Krai's boot. "The elv'in's stone," Tol'chuk said.

Krai bent and picked it up. He turned to pa.s.s the crystal to Tol'chuk. The buzzing had now grown to a distinct hissing around them. Krai pointed to a smudge on the stone's glowing surface. "Blood."

The howl shook Elena, echoing from somewhere be-yond the chasm. Even Uncle Bol seemed upset, mumbling something about there having been no wolves in these parts for ages. The wolfish cry split through the hissing rumble of the rock'goblins like a knife thrown through fog. It buried itself deep in Elena's heart, rupturing her pocket of resolve. She stood on the steps that led from the first ledge, unable to goad herself deeper into the chasm.

The gloom of the gorge danced with visions of tortured beasts and rending teeth. She trembled with her eyelids stretched wide, aching from the strain to see what lurked just beyond the black veil. She expected at any moment for claws to reach out and pull her into the darkness, never to see light again. Even the lamp held by her uncle did little to cast back the smothering gloom.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder. "Careful there, sweetheart." Uncle Bol pulled her back from the edge of the narrow stairs. "The edge is weak, just crumbling stone held together by age. I don't trust it supporting even someone as light as you. Stay close to the wall."

She teetered back to the sheer wall.

Er'ril stood four steps down from her, where he had stopped when the howl echoed to them. His sword pointed into the darkness beyond the edge of the narrow stairs. The flickering lamplight cast weavingshadows across the planes of his face, sometimes creating a wicked appearance of sunken eyes and dead lips. Elena s.h.i.+vered at the sight; then the lamp steadied and the rugged, road-worn warmth returned to his face, eyes alight with danger.

He caught her gaze upon him. "We must be quick if we are to catch up with our thief," he said.

Uncle Bol nodded, and Er'ril swung his sword forward and followed its tip down the dark stair.

"Uncle," Elena whispered as she stayed close to his lamp, "if those goblins want us to go this way, like Er'ril said, what do they want of us?" Behind her breastbone, a fear she fought to keep tightly bound wiggled free. After all that had happened since the sun set yesterday, she suspected she knew the answer to her own question. Her fears were confirmed by the concern s.h.i.+ning from her uncle's eyes. It was Elenathe goblins truly coveted.

But, of course, he denied it. "Honey, there's no reading the thoughts of these sunless creatures. It's most likely just mischief. They're known for their thievish hands and wily ways."

Though she didn't believe his words, she nodded anyway; Uncle Bol needed no further worries.

Swallowing a dry lump like an old crust of bread, she even offered him a weak smile.

Uncle Bol nudged her forward after the swordsman. Er'ril had by now crept farther down the stairs, almost to the edge of the lantern's reach. There at the last strand of light before the sea of darkness, he had stopped. His face was turned toward them, a look of puzzlement wrinkling up his normally smooth features. But his eyes were not on them but stared at something behind Elena. His words quaked the fear in her chest. "Something comes." His sword pointed to the darkness behind her.

She and Uncle Bol spun around. The blackness behind them now had a glowing eye. A spark of light swung in slow swoops, searching.

"Who-?" Uncle Bol began.

Er'ril hissed him quiet.

The eye of light stopped its wavering and stood fixed in the wall of darkness, then darted toward them.

Er'ril slipped like a ghost beside Elena and shoved her back. All three ducked to the wall. Elena, protected by the two men, cringed. What new horror now?

Then it was upon them. Elena gasped, not with horror, but with awe. A bird aglow with a light the color of suns.h.i.+ne on water swept before them, wings spread wide, plumage bright with a soft radiance. As it winged closer, subtler hues of rose and copper could be seen playing across its feathers. It hung in the air before them, slightly rising and falling with unseen currents of air, wings flexing as it rode the darkness.

Eyes like pebbles of coal studied them where they hugged the wall.

"Amazing!" Uncle Bol said, his voice low with wonder. "I thought them long dead to our lands."

Er'ril still had his sword raised toward it, ever cautious. "What is it, some cave bird?"

"No, it is a creature of the upper world. It traps moonlight in its feathers, giving it light to hunt the darkest night."

"In all my centuries of travel, I have seen many sights, but none such as this."

"It is from before your time, Er'ril, long before even your oldest ancestor.""What is it then, Uncle?" Elena asked. By now the worry of danger from the intruder had faded. The men had relaxed their guard on her and allowed her to push between them to get a closer look at the bird as it continued to hang above the well of the chasm. She stood near the edge of the stair-but not too near, mindful of her uncle's warning.

"I believe it's a moon'falcon. I have only seen them described on ancient, crumbling parchments." Her uncle's words took on a faraway tone, as if he was searching deep within himself. "The nature of the beast is spoken in some texts as a glorious creature of n.o.ble intent and in others as a fiend of foul omen."

Her uncle continued droning on, but Elena heard little past the naming of the bird-moon'falcon! Drawn by its beauty, Elena found her hand reaching over the stair's edge. If only she had a crust of bread to lure it to her as she did the fat goose on the pond near Maple's Corner. Or maybe a piece of meat, she corrected herself, for surely from its hooked beak and sharp talons this was a hunting bird. But what did it hunt in so dark a cavern?

She reached even farther toward the bird, leaning slightly. The falcon banked on a wing tip and swung toward her. Moonlight flashed brighter as it beat its wings and pulled higher above her. She stretched her arm up, following its flight. She could almost reach it, her fingertips close enough to brush the azure light it shed. Cooing sounds of comfort slipped from her lips. She prayed for it not to fear her.

"Careful, Elena," her uncle warned as the bird slipped a breath lower.

Elena's hand was now awash in its glow. Delight crowded the traces of fear from behind her breastbone-until the falcon screamed.

The bird had seemed about to alight upon her outstretched hand; then its intended roosting spot had vanished.

Elena's hand was gone!

A cry escaped her own throat, mimicking the falcon. The screeching bird fluttered upward. Elena ignored the creature, her attention focused on her arm. Beyond her wrist lay only darkness, as if the chasm's blackness had swallowed her hand.

Yanking back her arm in fright, she expected a flood of blood and pain. But as she pulled her arm to her chest, her hand reappeared, attached to her wrist as usual.

She groaned. The skin of her hand, bright in her uncle's lamplight, again flowed a ruby red. Whorls of deeper red, almost black, swirled across its surface.

A sob escaped her throat. Not again! She held her hand out to her uncle in supplication, her eyes begging him to take it away. With her arm held up to her uncle, the falcon swooped in a streak of moonlight and landed upon her blood-colored hand. The suddenness of its weight almost caused her arm to drop. But before the bird could be dislodged, its black claws dug deeply at her palm, fierce enough to pierce the skin for a heartbeat. Blood welled like fat tears around the talons of the falcon. With an effort she steadied her arm, and the bird loosened its tight grip, its claws slipping from her flesh. The claws now shone silver in the lamplight. Wonder at the bird's beauty momentarily m.u.f.fled her shock.

The falcon c.o.c.ked its head from side to side as it studied her fingers. A sudden thought that perhaps it was considering one of them as a meal flitted across Elena's mind. But it merely bent its head down and rubbed its crown of feathers on her trembling hand.