Chaos Descending (11 page)

The snake’s first strike was a feint, just a slight forward jerk of its head. Zollin had already raised his magical shield, forming a bubble around his body while he tried to think of how to attack the huge beast. He hadn’t used his magic all that much since moving into the mountains with Brianna, and while he wasn’t as strong magically speaking as he once had been, it still felt good to use his power for more that just healing fevers or transmuting small objects.

The next strike revealed the creature’s fangs. They were long and thin, almost delicate, but dripping with venom that Zollin guessed would either kill or paralyze him. He took the strike on his magical shield, letting his power fend off the potent attack. He was glad his magic was strong enough to withstand a powerful foe, but the snake’s strike against his magical barrier was taxing. It was like lifting a heavy object: he could do it, but it wasn’t easy, and it wore on him physically despite the barrier around his magic.

He knew he needed to go on the offensive. Just fending off the snake would quickly wear him out, but he couldn’t rely on raw power the way he’d always done before, either. He needed a strategy. The snake was moving closer, its huge coils slithering across the stone floor. Its scales rasped as they brushed over the smooth stone surface. Another strike caused Zollin to jump backward, and he quickly realized that the snake was maneuvering him into a corner.

He took a chance, running suddenly to the side, away from the corner, but the snake’s body came sliding toward him. He drew his dagger and slashed at the scaly hide before jumping back, but his blade merely scraped across the hard scales and didn’t hurt the snake at all. The hiss that followed Zollin’s attack was almost mirthful, as if the creature was amused at Zollin’s futile efforts to fight back. But the realization of a way he might hurt the creature was spawned from his relative weakness. He didn’t need raw power, he needed precision.

He darted further back, ducking into a small alcove. He had to bend almost double to fit into the tiny nook in the rock wall. It was the beginning of a new project that had been abandoned by the dwarves, but it gave Zollin just enough protection that he could focus his magic on the snake without fear of being bitten.

The snake struck anyway, smashing its snout into the stone above the nook. The rock around Zollin shook hard and a huge chunk of stone went flying out of the wall. The snake wasted no time, but continued to strike over and over. The bony snout just above its deadly fangs was harder than the stone around Zollin, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the creature would shatter the wall and flush him out.

He took a deep breath and sent his magic straight into the creature. It wasn’t a spell of raw power; no flames erupted, no lightning like energy crackled. It was just a small stream of magic, almost like his healing touch. Only this time his intent wasn’t to heal and restore, it was to kill. He could feel the snake’s movement, the great rib bones flexing under the strength of the beast’s long, sinewy muscles. He also felt the blood pumping through the creature, and Zollin’s consciousness followed that blood, moving through the creature’s body, toward its heart. When he finally sensed it, he struck with a small, carefully focused effort. The creature’s heart was a large, powerful muscle that was pumping vigorously, but Zollin’s spell tore the organ. It wasn’t a massive rip, and Zollin didn’t try to shred the snake’s heart. He only tore a small hole, almost like tearing fabric along a seam.

He felt the blood gush out of the snake’s heart, and the organ seemed to collapse, as if the heart relied on pressure inside the massive chambers. The small tear was a fatal wound. The heart tried to pump, but only succeeded in making the tear worse, and within a couple of seconds it stopped beating completely. The snake flipped backward, smashing the top of its triangular shaped head hard against the stone floor of the cave. Its body thrashed, coiling in on itself as it died, the muscles contracting hard before it finally went limp.

Zollin leaned against the stone wall, letting his own heart slow down before coming out of hiding. He wanted to shout in victory, and he also wanted to get out of the cave as soon as possible. Still, he knew he couldn’t leave until he found out what had happened to the dwarves.

Stepping out of the tiny nook took more nerve than Zollin had expected. Once again he conjured light, but rather than a flame, he imagined a tiny ball of fire, like a miniature sun. The spell was more taxing, but the light that shone throughout the cave was well worth the effort. He saw the snake for the first time and was appalled at the beast’s white hide. The head was buried inside the coils, and for the first time he noticed the musky smell of the wretched beast. He knew the snake creature was dead, yet it was still very close to him and so large that he felt a shiver of fear as he slowly made his way around the huge viper’s knotted body.

On the far side of the cavern he found the smaller room the snake had been nesting in. Translucent skins that had been sloughed off littered the floor, along with rubble from where the snake had used its bony head to enlarge the room. Zollin moved toward the space slowly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he remembered sitting in that space drinking ale with Jute and watching the dwarves of the Yel clan go about their tasks. His heart dropped as he saw what lay among the rubble of the snake’s nest. Bones. Small, thick bones whose flesh had been completely removed.

Zollin knew that many snakes ate their prey whole. Then, once the animal’s stomach had digested the flesh of their victims, they would regurgitate the bones. Zollin saw the remains of dwarves that had fallen prey to the huge snake. Tears filled his eyes, and he hoped desperately that Jute, his friend and ally, wasn’t among the bones. Yet he knew that if Jute had been with his clan, he would have led the fight to defeat the monster. And he wouldn’t have given up until either he defeated his foe, or he died in the process.

Zollin moved among the bones, looking for any sign that he might recognize anything, but the bones were scattered. Some were broken, others had been ground into powder by the weight of the massive snake as it moved over them. He turned away in frustration, knowing that he had to go deeper into the caverns and learn the fate of the other clans. Deep in his heart Zollin feared that the growing sense of evil he had felt over the past few months was spread all through the dwarf kingdoms. Perhaps there were other foul creatures feasting on the dwarves at that very moment. He knew he couldn’t rest until he knew the fate of the people under the mountain, but he would need Brianna’s help, and they would have to let the dragons know their plan.

He hurried back out to the tunnel that led up to the clearing. He crawled through the hole, his mind constantly worrying that something horrible was coming behind him. It was irrational, but his mind wouldn’t let go of the dread he felt until he finally crawled out of the tunnel. He stood up, brushing himself off and happy that the sun hadn’t set completely. The forest was casting long shadows all around him, but he was out of the tunnel and felt better almost at once.

Then something odd caught his eye. Across the clearing lay the oversized saddle bags near a pile of firewood. Their blankets had been neatly laid out and some of the wood piled up for a campfire, but there was no flame. Not only that, but Brianna was nowhere in sight. What Zollin could see was a tree, but not really a tree. It hadn’t been there earlier, and it stood motionless near the camp.

Zollin walked slowly forward, his magical senses spreading out around the clearing and confirming his worst fears. The tree was actually a sentient creature, tall and thin, with gnarly branches and root-like feet. He couldn’t see eyes, but he sensed the creature was watching him. He’d been accosted by a similar group of creatures when he and Mansel had raced through the forest toward Ort City to rescue Brianna from the Torr Wizard named Branock.

“That’s close enough, wizard,” came a breathy voice that originated from the tree creature.

“What do you want?” Zollin asked.

“I am here to trade,” the strange being said.

“Trade? What can you possibly want?”

“Protection,” the creature said. “We offer your imp in exchange for your magic.”

“My imp?” Zollin asked.

A scream erupted from deeper in the forest, and Zollin felt a dagger of fear and hatred pierce his heart. The tree creatures had Brianna—only that didn’t make sense. She should have set them all ablaze. Fire was the one thing the tree creatures seemed to fear, if he remembered correctly.

“That’s right, you know what I speak of,” the tree thing said. “The fire starter, the dragon lover. She is your mate, we have seen this. Join our grove and we shall set her free.”

“Let her go, or I’ll kill you all,” Zollin said, his anger overwhelming his judgment. “I’ll burn this whole damn forest to the ground.”

“Not if you want her to live.”

“Take me to her.”

The tree suddenly tilted, and Zollin realized the creature was studying him, trying to decide if Zollin was sincere.

“We are much stronger than you think, wizard. Do not underestimate our strength. We are the keepers of the forest and there is no place in these woods where you can run that we cannot find you.”

“I don’t intend to run,” Zollin said.

“Good, then follow me.”

The tree creature turned and started walking away, its root-like feet rising high in a very awkward gait. The creature was slow, lumbering, and almost clumsy as it moved into the shadows of the forest. Zollin hesitated for a second, the memory of Brianna’s scream like an open wound, and then he dashed forward, following the woodsman into the forest.

Chapter 11

The day hadn’t been a total loss. Quinn and some of the other men from Brighton’s Gate had gone out in search of the strange creatures who’d attacked Quinn on the trail to Zollin’s house. They took dogs, which quickly found the scent of the strange creatures. They spent the entire afternoon tracking the creatures, but there was no sign of them. So the men had gone back to the village, and Quinn found himself once more at the Valley Inn, drinking a cool mug of ale and eating one of Ollie’s delicious meals.

Everyone seemed to be in good spirits except for Kurchek, who came out of his room for a short while to eat. His head was bandaged, but he managed to glare balefully at Quinn with his one good eye. Several of the townspeople, including the innkeeper, were people that Quinn considered good friends. Some still kept their distance despite the fact that Quinn had saved the people from invasion and helped rebuild after the dragon attack. Others were openly hostile, but few of those who held a grudge against Quinn or his family spent time at the Inn. For the most part, people at the inn were happy, friendly, and just a little drunk.

That all changed shortly after nightfall. Vickry came charging into the common room, the despair painfully evidently his face. His entrance quieted the crowd, but for a moment he just looked around as if he didn’t know where he was.

“It’s Laney,” he said finally. “She’s missing. Someone took her.”

The crowd was suddenly focused exclusively on Vickry. Buck sat the man down and Ollie brought him a cup of wine. She had to force him to drink it as everyone else in the inn’s common room moved closer to hear what had happened.

“She was feeding the chickens,” he said, his voice cracking with grief. “I heard her singing, and then I realized I couldn’t hear her anymore. And when I went outside she was gone.”

“Perhaps she’s playing with a friend,” suggested one man.

“Or hiding. My daughter loves to hide and surprise me,” said another.

“There was blood,” Vickry said. “Blood on the ground and the chickens were quiet, huddled in their coop. I’ve never seen them act like that.”

“How much blood?” Quinn asked, and everyone leaned in to hear the answer.

“A lot,” Vickery said, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry.

“We’ll go back out,” Quinn said. “We need lanterns, and make sure you’re all armed.”

The men that had gone out in the hunting party earlier in the day gathered their things. Most of them had no weapons to speak of, just clubs or farming tools that could be used as a weapon in a pinch. Quinn had a spear, but if his guess was right, they were facing a pack of animals. One spear wouldn’t be enough.

“Where are you going?” Buck asked.

“To get Mansel and our horses.”

“You think he’s well enough?”

“Zollin healed him; he should be fine. And I want someone with me who has experience in a fight.”

“But maybe he shouldn’t get involved. Not everyone has your high regard for Mansel.”

Quinn looked at the innkeeper. Buck was normally a jolly fellow who enjoyed gossiping with the locals and taking credit for the hard work his wife put into their business. But now he seemed genuinely concerned, as if he knew something Quinn didn’t.

“What are you driving at?” Quinn asked.

“Look, everyone knows Mansel. He works with you, he drinks here, he can even be pleasant to be around when he has a few drinks in him. But no one knows anything about his wife.”

“Nycol? What does she have to do with anything?”

“Nothing at all,” Buck said. “But there are rumors, and people are on edge. You don’t make sparks in a hay barn, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I understand,” Quinn said, resisting the urge to slap some sense into the rotund innkeeper. “And thank you for letting me know.”

Buck nodded and Quinn hurried out. The sun had set, and it was much cooler than it had been earlier. Quinn’s joints protested as he jogged toward the little shack he called home. He was tired and needed rest, but there was simply no time for sleep, not when a young girl’s life hung in the balance. Not that Quinn held out much hope for the girl. Whatever had gotten her wouldn’t wait long to rip her to shreds. They had failed to find the animals earlier in the day, and now they would have to pay the price for that failure.

Quinn couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Buck was alluding to about Nycol. She was a private woman and preferred to stay away from the village, but that didn’t make her odd. Many of the wives of the men Quinn knew kept to themselves. While their husbands spent evenings at the inn, they were home seeing to the needs of children or doing who knew what. Why was Nycol any different?