Mage Hunter Omnibus (Complete 5 Book Series) (17 page)

“
Pray,” Zanbra said.

Kroff chuckled. “Or dive out of the way. That’s what I do, though a brief prayer to Ashal never hurts.”

The conversation slowed as they found themselves entering the valley proper, Guthrie recognizing the outcrops and crags he had seen more than a week earlier while on foot searching for Captain Werner. It had been night then, but the moon had revealed much that lay before him now.

“
Where do we go from here?” Kroff asked.

“
Straight ahead for some while,” Guthrie said. “I can’t remember exactly how far, but there will be a ravine on our left, heading north. I climbed up to a ridge there and followed it around until I found the camp. If we do the same, we should come out on top of them, though we would have to leave our horses behind.” He intentionally did not mention meeting the old man, the Dartague skald, upon that ridge. The less those of the Gauntlet believed Guthrie had dealings with magic, the better.

From there they rode in silence. After some little while, Guthrie’s words were proven true and a more narrow valley, a ravine, presented itself on their left. The muddy tracks they had been following led directly into the ravine.

Zanbra rode around in front of the others, tugging on her horse’s reins until the animal stopped. “Here we tie up our rides,” she said, climbing down from her saddle.

Kroff looked to the sergeant and shrugged. “Time to do what the lady says.”

Chapter 5

The climb up the hillside took more time and was more strenuous than Guthrie had remembered, in no small part due to the partial plate armor worn by Zanbra and Kroff, the sergeant’s own studded leather armor being lighter and more flexible. But climb they did, leaving their horses tied to some scrub brush along with most of their gear other than their weapons, a pair of skins filled with water and a bag of dried beef strips, enough food to last some little while in case they could not make their way back to their rides. Here Guthrie’s experience came into play, the three not wanting to spend days wandering the wastelands with little to sustain them.

Once atop the ridge, it became apparent the sun was beginning to sink in the west, only a couple of hours of light left to the three. That being the case, they wasted little time in following the ridge around to the north, in the direction Guthrie had found the Dartague camp. There was no sight of smoke, nor scent of burning upon the air, so the three had little hopes the barbarians would still be in residence. Still, a sizable group had ridden into the valley within the last few days, and perhaps there would be some evidence of this force’s location and perhaps that of the Dartague, if the two were not one and the same. If nothing else, the sergeant and the two members of the Gauntlet hoped to find tracks telling them where their enemies and potential enemies had gone.

With Guthrie leading the way, it did not take long before they came upon the remains of the Dartague camp. Plain in the remaining daylight were the black marks along the ground where the magical wall of fire had spread its destruction. Here and there were the burnt remains of tents and various goods, tent poles and minor personal belongings left behind because they were no longer of use. Also marking the stony ground in various places were the round scorch marks from the camp fires.

Zanbra dropped flat and climbed out to the edge of the ridge, staring at the sight before them, then she rolled over and glared up at Guthrie. “I thought you said you escaped by smashing a handful of oil lamps and starting a fire.”

That was, indeed, what Guthrie had told those of the Gauntlet, and anyone else who had asked back in Herkaig. He nodded. “Yes.”

The woman rolled over again to stare at the destruction below. “Those must have been some rather large lamps.” She pointed out to where the wall of fire had died away. “The blaze reached across the valley and up the wall to the height of at least two men.”

“
Yes?” from the sergeant.

Zanbra climbed to her knees, her face filled with disgust as if she could detect Guthrie’s lie. “There must have been some tinder, something to have helped the blaze along.”

Guthrie saw his chance, a slim one. “The tents caught quite easily. Perhaps the Dartague had oiled them for keeping out rain and melting snow.”

“
Perhaps,” Zanbra said, though her face showed she was not quite believing.

Kroff saved the sergeant from further inquiry. “Where did you say they had their horses stashed?”

Guthrie pointed north, further along the ridge in the direction they had been traveling. “Up past that bend, within some trees.”

“
Should we check it out?” the Spear asked the Sword.

Zanbra nodded without saying another word, and the three made their way forward. The path was more narrow here, forcing them to travel in a line, one ahead of the other.

Once they were past the curve in their trail, they found it not difficult to tell where the Dartague horses had been tied. Signs of hoof marks in the mud, as well as plenty of animal droppings, marked the spot. Blackened stone revealed where the fire wall had rolled down the trail on the other side of the ravine, then swept past the horses and into the larger camp.

Zanbra pointed up the trail across the narrow valley from them. “Is that where you found Captain Werner?”

“Yes,” Guthrie said. “The wyrd woman’s tent was there.”

The Sword took to a knee once more, her eyes roaming the territory some thirty feet below them. “These riders we tracked here, they rode up that path.”

Guthrie could not disagree. He was no specialized tracker, but as best he could tell, she was right.

“
Then they rode back out,” Zanbra went on. She pointed further to the north. “They headed that way.” She stood, staring, one hand above her eyes to shield the last of the day’s sun. “I can barely make out a trail there, but it appears that is the way they traveled.”

“
It’s tight in there, at least for several miles into the mountains,” Guthrie said. “That’s the way I escaped with Werner. If a hundred riders entered there, they went in single file.”

“
Then that is where we must go,” Zanbra said.

“
Are you sure?” Kroff asked. “We do not even know if they are Dartague, or that they are the ones who traveled with this wyrd woman.”

Zanbra spun around, her hooded eyes looking from the sergeant to the Spear. “The tracks tell the tale. The Dartague did not leave here from the way we came, and there were many horses who entered that trail. No, the Dartague went there, along with their new comrades. We will follow.”

Guthrie sighed, realized the futility of his next words. “Do I need to point out that if the three of us go in there and run into a small army of barbarians, we’re likely to get hacked to bits?”

Zanbra’s eyes were as diamonds as they stared back at him. “No, you do not need to point that out.”

There was no more debate on the matter. The three began the trek back to their steeds. Along the way, more than once Guthrie pondered the circular route of his recent fate. He was following much the same path he had more than a week earlier. Was he following that path to his own doom? Would he face Ildra yet again? Only time would tell. It seemed his fate was tied with that of the wyrd woman and others with magical powers here in the north. Was it always thus? Was magic drawn to magic?

By the time the group reached their horses, darkness was layering itself across the heavens. At this Zanbra conceded it would be best if they struck camp for the night before moving into the confines of the mountain trail in the morning. Still, they rode some distance into the ravine that had recently sheltered the Dartague, the three setting up their small camp in the middle of where the barbarians had.

The sun rose too early as far as Guthrie was concerned the next day, and few words passed among himself and his companions as they ate a breakfast of boiled oats and slices of dried pears. Then the camp was broken and they were riding once more, this time into the narrow pass the sergeant and an unconscious Captain Werner had entered not so far in the past.

The way was crooked and boring, high stone walls all around, the only light coming from directly above.

But then there was a flash of golden light across Guthrie’s vision and the path ahead changed.

“
I do not remember this,” Guthrie said as he tugged the reins of his horse, stopping the animal at the front of the line of riders.

The trail had opened up as it had not before, and the sergeant was positive they had not traveled as far as the shallow cave where he had rested with Werner. Besides, the presentation before him here was much, much broader than where the cave had rested. The walls to Guthrie’s right and left extended further in those directions, creating a giant bowl in the middle of the mountains. The land ahead was smooth, the stone floor reaching at least a hundred yards across to a rising natural bulwark of broken gray rock. Embedded within that distant wall was an opening shaped like a doorway, twice as tall and as wide as a man, to the sides of the entrance carved into the rock life size figures of mighty warriors in armor with humongous swords gripped in their hands raised over their heads. Even at a distance Guthrie was able to tell there were a handful of words carved above the dark opening.

Zanbra rode up to the sergeant’s right, Kroff to the left.

“
You never described anything like this to us,” the Sword pointed out.

Guthrie shook his head as if trying to joggle his memory, but to no use. “It was not
here
before.”

The two knights glanced at one another across their traveling companion.

“There is powerful magic here,” Kroff said.

“
No Dartague wyrd woman could have done this,” Zanbra said, “not alone, not without much aid.”

“
Perhaps several wyrd women working together?” Kroff offered.

“
Perhaps,” Zanbra said, then she clucked at her horse and slowly rode forward.

Guthrie and Kroff followed.

The sergeant leaned over in his saddle, looking for further sign of the tracks they had followed, but there was little to be seen on the smooth stone floor of the natural arena. There was not even snow here, and Guthrie noted the temperature seemed somewhat warmer than what he would have expected.

At his side, Kroff prepared one of the smaller crossbows of iron those of the Gauntlet carried, and Guthrie retrieved his own standard issue crossbow. There were no signs of an enemy, but it was best to be prepared. Riding at the lead, Sword Zanbra showed no such caution, but continued to trek straight across toward that mysterious opening.

Time seemed to stand still then. The sun above did not appear to move. There was no wind. Sound seemed distant, the clopping of the horse’s hooves not seeming natural, but more like echoes of themselves. The very air was still and heavy, as if the riders were moving through a thick mist, almost as if passing through thinned water.

When they reached the center of the giant bowl, Guthrie glanced back. The opening to the trail was gone, only a complete wall of rising rock behind them. There was no way out for them now. If an enemy should appear, the only option would be to fight.

Those of the Order did not look back, continuing to ride ahead, the sergeant keeping up with them.

The distance they had set out to traverse had appeared to be only a hundred yards or so, and that across land so flat one could have skipped a rock across it, yet the way forward seemed to take forever. To Guthrie, it was as if a thousand years had passed. He felt himself growing old, growing tired, his skin feeling dry and brittle, his bones heavy yet thin within his arms. Once he reached out and grasped Kroff by an elbow and the Spear looked to the sergeant with a thin smile, but there was no outward reaction, no sign Guthrie was visibly changing, and Kroff looked as himself, older than Guthrie but not ancient. It was a strange ride.

Guthrie also wondered at the possibility of magic surrounding him. He sensed no magic. His special sight picked up no auras anywhere within his viewing. There had been that brief glow when they had first entered the region, but nothing since. Had they crossed some magical barrier? Had they been carried to another place, perhaps another time? Guthrie had next to no knowledge how magic worked, but it was obvious he was not on the same path he and the captain had traveled.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the three riders drew near the large opening in the wall of rock ahead. They halted their steeds and stared up at the giant carved figures of the warriors dressed in ancient armor of a style not worn in thousands of years, at least since the great Trodan age.

Zanbra lifted her head back and stared up at the carved words above the entrance, her eyes following the line of text as if reading.

“
Do you know what it says?” Guthrie asked at the woman’s side.

“
No,” she said, sliding down from her saddle to touch the ground, “but I recognize the words as old Pursian.”

“
How old?” Guthrie asked.

“
At least two thousand years,” the woman said, rummaging in a saddle bag. “Today’s Pursian tongue is as far removed from those words as our own would be from the language of Almighty Ashal himself.”

The sergeant looked to Kroff, saw the man was also removing himself from his saddle, and decided to to do the same. Once on the stone floor, Guthrie looked to Zanbra and saw she had removed a large basinet helmet which she promptly placed over her head, her features shielded by the helm’s closed facing.

Her words sounded hollow when she spoke. “I lost track of those ahead of us when we entered this valley, but this is no natural place. We should be ready for anything.”

Kroff lifted his own, similar helmet from the back of his horse. “Are we entering this ... place?”

“It is an old temple, pagan, and yes, we will enter,” Zanbra said, pulling her long sword free of its sheath on her belt. “I will take the lead. The two of you stay behind me with bows ready.”

Seeing the others preparing no light source, Guthrie retrieved a torch from within his own saddlebags, dropped to a knee, and went to work with flint and steel in scraping sparks onto the oiled head of the torch. Within a few seconds he had a small flame burning. When he looked up, he found the two knights waiting for him. Now with their helms covering their features, Guthrie could barely tell the difference between the two other than Zanbra’s dark tresses trailed down from beneath the back of her helmet, and she carried her sword in both hands while Kroff hefted is crossbow.

The torch in one hand and his bow in the crook of his other arm, Guthrie climbed to his feet.