The Dark Throne (51 page)

Niamh still looked dissatisfied with these orders, but she inclined her head in acceptance. I looked at the map thoughtfully.

“Is this the only river within good distance of the tear in the veil?” I asked, feeling my forehead crease as I frowned.

“We do not know for certain, but it’s likely,” replied Robin, studying the map. “The details of these mountains are not well mapped.”

I wished futilely that Merrick and his scrying glass had traveled with us, but I pushed the thought aside. “If this is the only river, then they might travel along it,” I said. “I don’t know for sure…I haven’t been trained as they have. But I’m just thinking that they might try to follow the river out of the mountains. Or at least use it as a reference point and a water source while they’re evading capture.”

“It makes sense,” conceded Robin, glancing at Luca.

After a long moment, the
ulfdrengr
pronounced, “We will travel along the river today. Send out your scouts twice as often and keep a good watch from the sky.”

Niamh’s eyes sharpened, her silvery hair bright in the new morning light. “Always.”

Robin rolled up the map at some silent signal from Luca, and we went our separate ways. I found Nehalim already waiting for me by my pack, pawing the rocky ground and shaking his head impatiently. His nostrils flared as he scented the wind and his ears swiveled at sounds that I couldn’t hear. I smiled at his eagerness to continue on our journey.

“Looks like a good meal and a night’s rest did you some good, too,” I commented to him as I tightened the girth strap of the light saddle. He snorted in reply as I strapped my pack behind the saddle. My boots had dried by the fire in the night, and they hugged my feet snugly, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. A biting chill lingered in the early morning air, so I fastened my cloak about my shoulders. Nehalim followed me over to a knee-high rock; I climbed onto his back from the rock and received a strange look from Moira, already astride her own
faehal
.

“Work smarter, not harder,” I told her, which earned me an even more quizzical look as the Seelie rider dissected the unfamiliar expression. I heard her repeat it to herself in soft amusement as we began riding.

As the sun rose over the river valley, we continued northward, leaving evidence of our passing in the cold ashes of our fire and the bones of the animals the Valkyrie had hunted. Our pace was still quick, the sure-footed
faehal
picking through the rocky terrain and weaving through the tall thin trees with their customary grace and speed. I noticed as the day wore on that Nehalim was increasingly tense, his delicate well-formed ears rotating sharply toward every sound. I suspected that what I’d interpreted as impatience that morning was probably because he was sensing enemy creatures, not because he merely wanted to begin our travels. I told Luca as much. He nodded.

“Kianryk scents it as well, though I do not know how close the creatures may be,” he said, his muscled frame alert yet still sitting easily on his mount. “Be watchful but not anxious.”

I patted Nehalim’s neck reassuringly. “At least we know it’s coming.”

Luca didn’t reply, scanning the thin shadows of the trees with his pale gaze. The trees made it harder for us to watch the Valkyrie overhead, but each pair of scouts still signaled Luca with their silent language. As the sun reached its zenith, our shadows small and compact beneath us, Nehalim shied at a rabbit that sprinted out of the underbrush across his path. I grabbed his mane to keep from falling, my heart pounding loud in my ears at the sudden rush of adrenaline. Then when I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, I smelled the faint odor of decay on the wind. I looked sharply at Luca and he nodded silently, signaling the rest of the company behind us to stay alert. I glanced up as the shadow of a Valkyrie slid over us; a pair of scouts had just returned and it would be about half an hour until the next pair spurred their winged mounts into the airborne equivalent of a gallop. They still hadn’t seen anything. I wondered how far afield they were flying, and how long it would be until they saw the Dark creatures—or dead things—that we could smell on the wind. My skin prickled in anticipation.

We emerged from the scrubby forest onto a stretch of bare, rocky riverbank. The river stretched wider and shallower here than when we’d first found it between the low mountains. Though I felt very exposed without the branches of the trees stretching over us, I thought that at least we could see the Valkyrie, and the ground surrounding us. I stretched my shoulders, settled the Caedbranr on my back and flexed my feet idly, relieving the tension in what muscles I could while we were riding. The mountains stretched up into the icy blue of a cloudless sky around us. I wondered when we’d see snow, pulling my cloak tighter about me as the wind picked up.

Then a sharp sound split the amiable chatter of the river, a crack that was at once unnatural and familiar. I straightened in the saddle, forgetting completely about the cold as I listened. There it was again, and then three in a row—rat-tat-tat—echoing against the sides of the mountain. My stomach dropped and my heart leapt, both at once.

“Gunfire,” I said through bloodless lips, looking at Luca with wide eyes, my heart racing with the sudden certainty. “Luca, it’s them!”

Luca quickly signaled for a pair of Valkyrie scouts to investigate, pointing in the direction that the sound seemed to originate; it was hard to tell, with the sound bouncing about the trees and rocks. It was coming from the other side of the river, perhaps even from over the mountain on that side. What I thought was the sound of a second weapon joined the first, bursts of three and four shots followed by deliberate shots at well-spaced intervals.

I turned Nehalim’s head toward the sound. Luca touched his heels to his mount’s sides, and he was already plowing into the river as I followed right behind him. I glanced back and saw the anticipation shining on the faces of Moira and Robin and the other warriors of the vanguard as they drew their blades and urged their
faehal
into the water. The Valkyrie wheeled overhead, arrows nocked to their bows.

We’d found my brother, and we’d also found the enemy.

Nehalim surged through the river. Though it looked shallow—and it was, as far as rivers went—the water still frothed up over my boots. My faithful mount tossed his head and drew abreast with Luca. The air over the river was so cold that we could see our breath in frosty clouds. My mind raced. There was more than one teammate with Liam, but I couldn’t tell exactly how many just from the echoing gunshots. I guessed that they were using rifles from the linked bursts, and I marveled that they still had ammunition after almost three weeks. Then I pushed the speculation from my thoughts as we emerged, dripping, on the other side of the river, and Kianryk bounded ahead of us. I heard a shrill series of whistles, almost too faint to make out, from the direction in which the scouts had disappeared around the mountain; Niamh sent another pair rocketing in that direction.

We pushed the
faehal
to a canter but didn’t dare a gallop over the rocky, uneven terrain; as it was, a few mounts stumbled as we raced along the river. Even with our speed, I wanted to go faster. I stared ahead and at the sky, watching for a pair of scouts. Finally I saw a single Valkyrie streaking toward us, the rider pressed low over her winged steed’s neck, the
faehal
stretched out, slender legs mimicking a gallop as its great wings beat the air with determined speed. Her mount sliced through the air so fast that the rider dared not release her grip to signal; instead she yelled to Niamh, who directed all but two of the remaining Valkyrie toward the sound of gunfire. As the panting scout recovered, soothing her lathered mount with one hand, Niamh swooped low and said to Luca, “About a league’s distance ahead! There are at least four
garrelnost
and a dozen skin-wraiths, with quite a few smaller creatures. The Seer and three companions are well up the mountain, fighting from an entrenched position.”

I shivered at the mention of the wolf-creature that had been my first encounter with Malravenar’s Dark creations.

“We killed the two
cadengriff
harrying them from the air,” continued Niamh, “and the rest will shoot as they can from the wing.”

We had only two Valkyrie with the vanguard now. Niamh flew just ahead of us, and the recovering scout took up the rearguard. We traveled as fast as we could over the rocky ground, the
faehal
beginning to show signs of exertion. Sweat laced Nehalim’s flanks as we rounded a curve in the valley. I looked up the side of the mountain and in the distance I saw the Valkyrie fighting from the air, darting down beneath the tops of the trees and shooting upward again. The staccato reports of gunfire were louder now—not echoes. The Caedbranr hummed in its sheath and my war-markings tingled as emerald light glowed from beneath my sleeve. I drew my sword, the engraved names of our dead stark against the shining silver of the blade.

Niamh flew up the mountain and then circled back. She leaned down as her mount kept pace with us, just high enough that its wings cleared our heads, brushing back my hair with the wind of its flight. “The Seer says they will have no more bullets soon.” The word was foreign on Niamh’s tongue, and she almost split it into two:
bul-lets
.

“That means they’ll be down to knives and whatever else they have,” I said. “We’ll be fighting uphill, but I don’t think we have another choice.”

A few more bursts of gunfire erupted from the mountainside, and then there was silence, punctuated by the war cries of the Valkyrie as they fired arrows from the air.

“Tell them we’re coming,” Luca said with a feral grin. Kianryk threw back his head and howled; half a dozen answering howls erupted from the vanguard, and as one we surged up the mountainside, weaving between the trees, guided by the flight of Niamh overhead. I wrapped my left hand in Nehalim’s mane, focusing with grim determination on keeping my balance as he leapt over a fallen tree and sprang up the steep grade of the mountainside. The Caedbranr’s hum rose into a clarion tone. My war-markings blazed emerald, and Gwyneth’s pendant warmed at my throat. It seemed every source of my power strained toward this battle along with my heart, as the sudden hope of Liam’s rescue sweetened the heady rush of bloodlust surging through my chest, fed by the roaring flames of my anger.

A skin-wraith crashed through the trees, ribbons of decaying flesh hanging flayed from its grotesque body. Moira ran it through with one clean stroke, and it was crushed beneath the hooves of the
faehal
behind her, its screech suddenly reduced to a wheezing gurgle. A catlike creature with blazing scarlet eyes hissed and leapt at me; Nehalim danced to the side and I sliced the creature from head to tail as it sailed by. We pressed onward up the mountain, the steep grade studded by rocky outcroppings. A thunderous growling and snarling split the air as Kianryk hurtled through the trees locked in combat with a huge
garrelnost
. Luca leapt down from his
faehal
and seamlessly sprinted toward the wolf. At the moment the
ulfdrengr
was within reach, Kianryk heaved the
garrelnost
onto the ground, pinning it by the throat, and Luca brought his axe down on the creature’s head with a roar.

An arrow sliced down from above and pierced the eye of another
garrelnost
. Robin galloped past me and drove his blade into its other eye, springing down from his saddle to heave his blade free. He danced away from the snapping, slavering jaws of the misshapen creature and dealt it the deathblow. I turned my attention back to our path through the trees, just in time to see a fanged toad-like beast leaping at me. I steeled myself—I didn’t have the time to bring my sword to bear—but then suddenly grabbed onto Nehalim’s mane as he reared, striking the creature with his front hooves and trampling it viciously, gore splattering his legs.

“You’ve been waiting for a chance to do that!” I gasped, laughing as I slapped his neck. He snorted and leapt forward up the slope once more. The sounds of battle rose around us, echoing among the trees, fierce war cries interspersed with shrieks of dying creatures and, once or twice, the surprised yell of an injured warrior. It seemed as though we’d been laboring up the slope for hours, though I knew it couldn’t have been that long; and then I heard a shout in a voice that was as familiar to me as the sound of my own voice. I looked up, and glimpsed a flash of camouflage pants at the top of a rocky outcropping. My heart leapt and I urged Nehalim on. Abominable creatures swarmed over the rocks, intent on their target despite the carnage wreaked by the vanguard rising behind them and the Valkyrie swooping down from the sky like avenging angels. Four men at the center of the rocks used the outcropping as a natural shield, fighting from the high ground. I couldn’t tell immediately which was Liam. Nehalim rapidly closed the distance to the outcropping; I dispatched two skin-walkers, beheading them without a second thought. Kianryk leapt past me, his tawny fur mottled with gore.

The men on the outcropping fought with knives now, and the Valkyrie tossed a spear to one. He hefted it experimentally and then threw it with deadly aim into a skin-walker, retrieving it with calm precision and driving it into the skull of the twitching corpse for good measure. The men focused their attention to the southern, downhill side of the rocky outcropping; a nearly sheer wall of rock rose up behind them, shielding them from attack at that angle. But the lone remaining
garrelnost
, smaller and nimbler than its larger brethren, managed to slink around the side of the outcropping, out of sight below a tumble of rocks. The Valkyrie saw it and shot several arrows into it, but it seemed not to notice. I saw it prepare to leap onto the ledge. Kianryk was busy ripping apart what looked like a huge, strangely mottled bear. So it was up to us, I thought with grim resolution. Nehalim read my mind, and I felt the muscles in his hindquarters coil with just enough time to lean forward and grab his mane.