144: Wrath (10 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kertyah crept down the hill and woke the Dorokti hunters one hour before dawn when their sleeping prey would be sluggish and heavy-eyed. His panther eyes had remained awake and alert throughout the night, keeping watch over their quarry.

The others checked their gear and readied their weapons. It was a fearsome group; seven of the Ginakti’s most experienced scouts arrayed for a hunt. Each carried a spear, bow, and arrows on his back. In hand, they held blades carved from bone and rock and set with wood and twine. They were a varied team, a pack of creatures with feline, lupine, and ursine features among them. Their fur was as diverse as their faces, but they all had the tone and wire of warriors.

Kertyah would lead the attack himself. He selected Teph and Zamre, twin wolf Dorokti, and a hunter with pointed ears, a round face, and spotted brown fur named Amrus to join him. The largest of the group, Kath, made it clear he did not wish to sit out the initial assault. He stood head and shoulders above the rest and was twice as thick, but he was much gentler than his ursine visage implied. Kertyah knew he only wanted to be part of the strike so that his brothers would not need to risk themselves. Sol, a small but grisly looking male with auburn fur and a narrow snout, and Revi, a lean female with golden fur broken by scattered black spots, readied their horses in case they were needed as a second wave assault.

With a few last gestures, he led his party forward. They crawled on hands and knees as their animal cousins might stalk a bicklehorn.

As they approached, Kertyah marked their targets. The large Faldred lay sprawled on his back, snoring loudly. The young female was still within her tent. The old warrior slept restlessly on the far side of the encampment.

However, the dark one was nowhere to be seen. Kertyah cursed himself for losing track of the Undlander. His scent lingered, so he had to be close by.

Kertyah turned, leaned back on his elbow, and motioned to Kath who watched from the low mound. He waved his hand across his face, pointed to his eyes, and swung his finger in a broad circle. The bear warrior nodded and slid forward down the hill.

The dark-furred panther turned his gleaming eyes toward his three companions and closed his fist. They nodded and tightened their grip on their weapons in response. The rippling creek made more noise than the hunters as they crept toward the camp.

Before Kertyah reached the edge of the glowstone’s light, a shrill whistle split the night air. Even the panther’s well-trained eyes had trouble distinguishing the form of the Undlander riding his board high above the ground, using the dark sky as his hiding place. Kertyah swore under his breath. He had not even thought to look up in this treeless field.

The Dorokti hunters sprang forward. Teph and Zamre dashed toward the tent while Amrus sprinted toward the rousing Faldred.

"
Jjeerahtah
!" the mage shouted in a sleepy panic as Amrus leaped for him. A blast of flame caught him in the chest and threw him backwards.

Their leader, the Peltin, stood slowly with his hands out to his side. "Stand down, Flint."

Kertyah approached cautiously.

As the twin wolves reached the girl’s tent, the Undlander swept down from his lofty berth. In his right hand, he brandished his razor-sharp sickle. Teph looked up just in time to have his throat cut as the boy zipped by him. The hunter fell to the ground, gagging and coughing blood.

Kertyah snapped his head back toward the hill, eyes wide in anger. "
Nah senfay
!"

Kath started firing arrows while Sol and Revi began their charge on horseback.

Polas was not happy with the way things were going. He should have known better than to think his newfound allies would lay back and let the Dorokti capture them, but he also had no idea that Flint was a pyromancer. He had assumed the Faldred dabbled in a bit of healing, but there were so few full-book mages in his time that he had not expected the man to produce such a formidable type of magic.

"Stop," Polas yelled.

High above, Kiff spun to avoid the stone-tipped arrows. "Damn!" he yelled, as one nicked his shoulder. He turned his spin into an overhead loop and drove his board at the riders.

The remaining wolf Dorokti cut a gaping hole in the side of Xandra’s tent and was met in the snout by her quarterstaff.

Xandra stepped out to follow the blow. Her long braid was wrapped loosely around her neck, and she had rushed to dress in an effort to join the fray. She remained barefoot, and the back of her light armor was not latched fully at the top, but that did not keep her from springing to action to defend her friends.

Kiff reached the charging Dorokti on horseback and leaped from his board. He stepped on the lead horse’s face and pushed down. The horse stumbled, and Kiff used the momentum to add power to a kick that connected to the rider’s chin with a loud crack. The Dorokti tumbled backward off the tail end of his mount and rolled to a stop in the tall grass. Kiff landed on his board on the other side of the horse and swept around to take care of the next rider.

Flint wove his fingers in an arcane pattern and chanted ancient words. His fingers glowed as a small ball of orange light appeared between his palms.

Polas yelled, "
Baw’tes
! Stop!"

He launched himself into the panther Dorokti, spinning the hunter around to place himself in the way of Flint’s spell. The Faldred’s blast of flame struck Polas in the back and fizzled, leaving a black mark on his clothes.

"Sorry," Flint said.

Xandra froze and stared at Polas, her mouth open.

"We must surrender to them," Polas said. "We need to meet with their leader."

Flint cast a wary look to his student, and Xandra kept her quarterstaff at a low guard. Flint lowered his hands, but his eyes darted between the Dorokti hunters, watching for any signs of further aggression.

The panther whistled for his hunters to lower their weapons.

Kiff was the last to halt. He threw a few last punches into the face of the second rider, who was now lying on his back with the Undlander sitting on his chest.

"Kiff," Polas shouted, "that’s enough!"

The bear Dorokti hauled both Kiff and the auburn-furred rider to their feet and gave Kiff a quick punch to the stomach, knocking the wind from him.

"What’s happening, Master Kas Dorian?" Xandra surrendered her staff to the wolf and finished lacing up the back of her tunic.

"These are hunters of the Dorokti, and we are trespassing on their traditional lands," Polas said.

"If you knew this, then why did we come this way?" Flint kept careful watch over the lynx whose fur was burned off in a great patch across his chest as he gathered Flint’s packs and loaded them onto one of the horses.

"As I said, we must meet with them."

"Them?" Xandra said. "They're the ones we came to meet?"

"I'm not certain," Polas said. "I imagine so."

The panther held a curved dagger toward Polas’s throat and pushed him back away from his allies. When he spoke, it was in the ancient language of the Dorokti. "
Eh cheh ool sal
."

Polas was relieved to find that the language had survived and that he would be able to understand and, hopefully, find safe glen with these hunters. "I need to see your king, the descendent of Ve. He must join me in battle."

The panther narrowed his eyes and took a long look at Polas, from his boots to his masked face. "
Nie sehn
."

"Give them your weapons," Polas said.

Kertyah took the leader’s sword away. It was surprisingly light, and its blade was whiter than the snows of Corubus. Something about the weapon sparked a memory. He found himself thinking of wars, dark gods, and something else buried deep within, some flicker that caused his pulse to quicken. Nevertheless, these were merely trespassers here to defile his home. He shook his thoughts away and returned his mind to his captives.

The hunters of the Ginakti clan gathered their prisoners around the small camp and tied their hands together behind them. They piled all of the weapons onto the fabric of the girl’s tent and rolled them into a tight pack.

Kertyah made sure everything was loaded onto horses and that the campsite was cleared. Before leaving, he walked around the group of strangers and checked their restraints. The bindings on the Peltin man and the young girl were tight, and he instructed Amrus to wrap double around the Faldred’s hands.

When he tugged on the Undlander’s cords, they fell to the ground. The boy shrugged. Kertyah growled and bent the boy's arms back. The left hand remained straight as Kertyah tried to pin it to his shoulder blade, and the Undlander cried out as though he had been stabbed.

"Watch it!" he said.

Kertyah finished binding his arms behind his back and motioned for Kath to retrieve the body of their fallen ally. The warrior lifted it reverently and laid it over a mare's back. The other hunters finished gathering the gear and loaded it onto the other horses. There were not enough for all members of the party to ride, even after taking their prisoners' mounts, so the Dorokti hunters set out on foot alongside their captives as dawn broke over the southern hills.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A shimmering yellow portal opened in the middle of a shady grove far from the plains of Nas Sonath. Matthew the Blue stepped through carrying a small pack, an ornate bow, and dragging a stack of books. He looked tired and unkempt.

The dell was dark, and a cool breeze tussled Matthew’s long beard. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted a lonely song against the moonlight. Matthew stooped and plucked a small snow-blossom and held it to his nose. The tiny, white flower looked lost in the shadowy forest, as though it grew there by mistake or was left and forgotten.

"Welcome back to Siness, Matthew the Blue," a voice called out from behind a tree. "It has been far too long."

The voice belonged to a large creature with the four-legged body of an elk and the upper trunk and head of a man. His face was kind and joyful, with a youthful grace that hid his years. Great, fuzzy antlers grew backwards from above his pointed ears, and his blonde hair was long and wavy. He wore a scholar’s vest and had matching saddlebags tied across the ornate barding on his back. The being was a Yarsac, a race of quadruped wanderers and free spirits.

"Good to see you, Baden," Matthew said. "It has been far too long indeed. I am glad that you received my letter."

"Yes, and I was glad to hear from you," Baden replied. "Though it seems you are as enigmatic as ever with your messages."

"You never can be too careful."

"True enough," Baden said with a sweeping glance to the trees. "Why not meet me in my home, then? It is much better protected than this quiet glade. And much more comfortable besides."

"I have my own reasons for meeting you here, my friend, not the least of which is that you are now halfway to where I will ask you to go." A playful grin crept across Matthew’s lips.

Baden shook his head and returned the smile. "I should have guessed you’d be asking an errand of me."

"I regret that we are not meeting in, as you said, a more comfortable place and time, and what I will ask of you will also be uncomfortable, I think."

"I understand," Baden said. "Regardless of the circumstances, it is always a blessing to see you, old friend. However, before we go any further..."

Baden flexed his fingers together and formed a series of intricate runes in the air. An iridescent pink light glowed on his forehead. After scanning the area, he nodded.

"Alright," he said, "we are clear to talk freely. You are not currently being scryed, but I can only keep watch like this for so long."

Matthew untied his pack and opened it. He pulled out a small scroll with an ancient seal upon it and handed it to Baden. The seal bore the archaic letter "
aiv
" from the High Peltin alphabet, the symbol of the rising sun.

"Kas Dorian is moving," Matthew said. "We must act quickly to gather what forces we can. I will head to Druntolast to see about freeing Lacien. I need you to contact the Archons."

"Truly? You would send me to the Archons? Then this is it, isn’t it? All the stories you told me when I was but a calf, they are coming to pass." Baden felt his pulse quicken. It was too much to dream of. He clamped down on his soaring spirits and planted his hooves back in reality. "Why is the man not with us? Where has he gone off to? Surely gathering an army would be an easier task for a general than for a tiny historian and a four-legged mage."

"Oh, are you calling yourself a mage now?"

"Well in truth, I still only control minor cantrips, but it is a start, and better a mage than a simple tanner."

Matthew laughed. "I’ve known many tanners in my day, and none of them were simple men. Better a tanner who knows wholly who he is than a man who does not know the path beneath his feet."

"As always, you speak wisdom. As you say, I may find I have no patience for magic, but for now it suits me, and I find its pursuit both challenging and rewarding. Not all of us are Gifted, as you are, my friend. Some of us must work for our talents to bear fruit. But once again, I have chased a dry trail. What of the general?"

"Kas Dorian is following his own path, and we must do what we can to support him."

Baden frowned. "So you’re saying you have no idea where he is and where his fickle Peltin desires will take him."

"No, he marches toward Firevers. Only..." Matthew paused. "Only, I did not expect it to be so painful for him to return."

Matthew turned and opened a new portal. Baden reached down and laid a hand on the Cairtol’s shoulder.

"Matthew," he said. "I’m afraid. I’m afraid it won’t be enough."

"Me too, Baden," Matthew replied. "Me too."

He disappeared through the portal, and Baden was left alone in the glade. The glowing pink orb disappeared, and he looked down at the ground. The Yarsac set his jaw, squared his shoulders, and nodded, his mind made up. He looked again from the path behind him to the way before him and dashed off into the wooded trail ahead.