Villains by Necessity (20 page)

Kaylana leaned on her staff and spoke softly. Slowly the ground rippled like water, and parted as gently as a sigh, easing the body down into the warm soil. The ground closed over, still rippling softly, and grass and wildflowers raced back across the brown scar of the earth. In a moment there was nothing to be seen but a profusion of tiny blue-green prilla blossoms, smelling faintly of lemon. Without a word, the villains turned and walked down the hill, toward the setting sun and the town of Tailerand.

The next morning, Mizzamir graciously teleported Robin back to the city of Tailerand. The centaur trotted about until at last he located the rogues breakfasting in one of the public houses. His questions about what had occurred in his absence gathered no useful information, the party being wrapped up in their own thoughts. Arcie had found a ship sailing for Trois in a few hours, and booked passage for the six of them, with their horses.

Blackmail and Kaylana took care of loading the horses, and Sam clandestinely settled Kaylana's loan from Arcie by a few decisive arguments that involved Sam's annoyance at the stinking and discolored state of his birchwood dagger, and the fact that he, Sam, could still pick up Arcie by his neck and if Arcie wanted to be forgiven he could jolly well give Kaylana the horse-loan as a gift.

At last, the sails unfurled, the dock slipped away, and the villains, on their way once more, took the time to rest and sleep the day away again, ignoring Robin's questions and attempts at ballads. But Arcie stayed awake a long time, looking at the strange orange wedge of crystal and thinking.

Crossing the channel was uneventful and peaceful. The villains spent their time in various ways: Sam sharpened all of his weapons; Kaylana talked to sea gulls and dolphins; Arcie trolled for "whatever's out there" with a hand line; Valerie avoided the sunlit deck, but at night could be found up on the prow, with a serene smile, sending magical bolts of black death-energy causing bloody agony and death to the occasional frolicking dolphin or jumping fish; Blackmail spent much of his time in the hold, grooming his stallion or exercising it up and down the aisle provided for that purpose. Sometimes Sam and Blackmail would spar on the large open deck, much to the entertainment of the crew; Sam's speed and reflexes kept in practice, but his-hardest blows and sharpest blades never made the slightest impression on that dark armor. At one point he attempted a deliberate shattering strike to the back of the knight's helmet; the force of the blow sent his hand into tingling numbness, and Blackmail, helmet undamaged, slowly waggled a reproachful finger at him. Sam blushed and did not try again.

Robin's strange appearance and large size at first made the crew wary, but as soon as they discovered he was not only timid but infinitely gullible, Robin became the favorite target of various practical jokes. The crew invited him to a deck party, and were even willing to supply the half-keg of rum that it took to get the centaur soused.

Robin clopped around unsteadily on deck, singing one of the interminable ballads of the Victory in a quavery tenor, and occasionally even managing to hit one of the strings on his harp. Due to healthy bulk and constitution, however, the crew was disappointed to see him bright and chipper the next day, his only side-effect being a few gaps in his memory.

One night the crew recounted terrifying tales to the minstrel, of the swift, aggressive, deadly sea-snakes of the channel, that would leap right up onto a ship to sink their dripping fangs into some hapless fool, the poison rotting the victim in agony and gruesome death. At the climax of the tale, one of the men gave a shout and threw a dripping rope over the centaur's withers. Robin's scream of terror and panicked galloping awakened the entire craft, and the captain sternly reprimanded the men responsible.

After that, the voyage proceeded uneventfully, until at last they docked at the port of Pithcar, and once again felt the good solid ground beneath their feet.

They rested in Pithcar through the day, waiting for nightfall before moving on. They had a pleasant meal at a tavern-another Frothing Otter. The keeper was quite pleasant and even allowed Robin into the main dining area. Then, as night at last descended, they moved on, out through the countryside and into the hills, the wild green magical forested lands of Trois, under the combined rule of aging Lord Fendalis and his famous and heroic son Sir Fenwick.

Sir Fenwick, at the moment, could not believe his luck.

His sources reported a group of people had landed in Pithcar a few days ago who exactly matched the description of the villains. They had since been seen moving inland.

"It hardly seems possible!" he exulted. "They're coming right for us! What a fine hunt this will be, the likes of which the company has not seen in ages! Now then ..."

He rummaged about in his workroom, a long hall filled with texts and maps, decorated with his many hunting trophies and various medals of honor given to him for his heroic service to the cause of good. On the balcony his mews of prized messenger swifts twittered and fluttered, and one of his many Feyhounds, the red-eared white hunting dogs of the royal house, slept on its back, snoring softly. Fenwick pulled out a rolled map, sending the others in the stack crashing down with a noise loud enough to make the Feyhound twitch one ear and yawn.

Ignoring the mess, Fenwick unrolled the map. The green and blue and brown of his kingdom spread out across the table, all rich forests and rolling hills and shining rivers, with a small range of mountains in the northern coast like a crown. He inspected the view thoughtfully.

"Now then, if I were a villain, where would I go in Trois?" he mused. "Perhaps I should ask Mizzamir if he's learned anything from the centaur? No," he decided.

"The Arch-Mage might want to know what I was planning, and I don't want to bother him with it. Besides, they're in my jurisdiction now and my responsibility. I will deal with them myself." He pored over the map a bit more, frowning. "Drat... there are any number of fine places they might choose to despoil. The High Temple here in Glinabar, the green horse-fields of Trebitha, the gold mines in Malain. I'll have to send scouts out." He looked out the window thoughtfully. Here he had called out the Company, bid them train and prepare for a hunt ... and he could not find where the hunt was to begin. It was most discomfiting. He would make the villains pay for this. He wondered if Mizzamir's agent was doing any better.

"So," Robin asked, as they trekked across the lush countryside, filmed with silver moonlight and cool breezes, "where are we going?"

"To the Glina Forest, beyond the Falorin Lands," replied Valerie tersely. "Which unfortunately happen to be the haunt of that despicable do-gooder Sir Fenwick."

"Sir Fenwick?" inquired Kaylana, looking at the sorceress.

"A hunter of sorts. An adventurer hero. A royal bastard who I would much like to see impaled on a bolt of dark flame for eternity," was the response. Robin shivered.

"Any particular reason, or just general dislike for the opposite side?" Sam asked casually, looking over his horse's neck. Blackmail on his huge warhorse clomped along beside him, a single deep shadow in the night, the horse snorting and prancing in the fresh breeze.

"None of your business."

"Whush!" exclaimed Arcie. "What's the matter. Valerie?

That time o' decade?"

"Please be quiet," insisted Kaylana, riding ahead on her piebald. "The creatures of Trois are much influenced by loyalty to the Forest Lord, and I would not have our presence so advertised. Even the trees themselves seem to be listening."

"Be there still Wilderkin in these parts?" inquired Arcie, thinking of his Test at the hands of the long-dead Jasper Dunthwittle.

"Oh yes," Robin answered. "Living the wild free life, at harmony with nature and the woods, in company with their trusted foxdog companions ..."

"... Occasionally ripping apart the chance bandit or other evil marauder," added Sam ruefully. "Let's be careful. I don't feel like taking on a berserk pack of feral Wilderkin anytime soon."

As they rode out into the wilderness, the countryside was filled with broadleaf forests that spread over the rise and fall of low hills. To the party, the trees in the moonlight looked like green foam on lighter green water, thin in some places, a green canopy in others. This was the Falorin Lands, the haunt of feral Wilderkin and stranger creatures.

Several days passed, peacefully slept through, and nights of long travel as they moved steadily toward their destination. But it was not to stay peaceful long. It was early one evening, lit by the faintest sliver of a new moon, when they were spotted.

Large watchful eyes in the treetops followed them.

"Did you get a good look at them, Sunglade?"

"No, my chief."

"Then we will hope Leafwind has done better than we." The hidden figure raised his head and sent a coded whistle sweeping into the night. "Leafwind!" The whistle was answered.

"I see them, my chief. On the Western road."

He looks, and sees. Sharp eyes focus on ...

A coldly beautiful, pale-skinned woman, with large dark eyes. The others in the group are of no consequence.

His whistling call rings with ancient anger as he calls to his tribe.

"There rides tonight a dark one, if not the same then surely kin to the serpent woman who tormented our ancestors and the Great One Jasper so many years ago. She is darkness. She must be slain before she comes for us and our children!"

Robin started as a terrifying, eerie sound rose from the shadows of the forest. A strange whistling, mingled with yaps and barks. Valerie, her cowl pushed back from her face, seemed to grow even paler as she tried to work out where the sound came from.

"The Wilderkin," she whispered. "I hoped we had avoided them."

"Sounds like just animals to me," said Arcie. "Wasn't Jasper the Hero from this same area?"

"Yes," replied Kaylana.

"He died here too," put in Sam. "The Wilderkin Hero, I mean."

"Yes," confirmed Robin, looking around nervously.

The sounds came again, closer now.

"Yes indeed," confirmed Valerie, drawing up her reins.

The sound was definitely behind and to the left. "He was killed fighting with a Nathauan who kidnapped some Wilderkin for a magical experiment. Now his descendants make their home here, and they'll kill any Nathauan they see, and probably you too for good measure.

Run!"

She spurred her horse and tore off through the forest as the whistles erupted again.

Sam looked back in concern at the knight, who remained steadfast even as the others glanced from side to side, looking for a way to run. "Come on!"

The knight ignored him scornfully. Sam rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm sure you'd far prefer to die nobly than run from a fight, but you're all in armor. Your horse still has a soft underbelly and will likely get it torn out by foxdogs and Wilderkin if you don't move it!"

Robin was prancing with eagerness to flee. His ears had picked up a shift in sounds. "Come on! Valerie's led them off to the side! We can make it to the Clawrip Canyon!"

He set off at a canter, and Sam, Kaylana, and Arcie did the same. After a long pause, so did Blackmail, a clanking shadow in dark armor.

They came to the edge of a wide, steep-sided chasm, with a faint trail of river glimmering in its depths, downstream of a large wooden bridge across the top. Valerie emerged from the forest farther upstream and almost fell into the torrent, but wheeled her mount around and galloped toward them, the dark span of the bridge between them visible in the moonlight. They headed for it, the whistles of the Wilderkin erupting all around them.

As the horses ran for the bridge, the shadowing rocks of the canyontop were alive with the flickering motion of small long-haired figures accompanied by long-legged foxdogs. Further figures seemed to come leaping out of the forest. The whistles and yaps echoed across and around and down the chasm, magnified a hundred times.

A whirring flight of arrows spattered around them, a pony squealed and there was a gasp and a muffled curse.

Then they felt the ground change to the drumming wood of the bridge. Valerie galloped up to them and, without hesitating, spurred her gelding across the span. The others followed, the sound of horses' hooves rolling like thunder. Shouts of rage erupted around them as the Wilderkin saw their quarry escaping.

Valerie wheeled her mount around the instant its hooves touched the stone of the far edge, and then waited fuming until Sam, bent low over his charging horse, thundered to safety. Instantly drawing on the dark magic from the amulet concealed in Sam's pocket, she fired off blast after blast of dark energy at the supports of the bridge. The centaur, Arcie, and Kaylana scrambled to safety. Blackmail came galloping up just as the bridge supports failed. Sam saw the bridge crack and buckle, giving way under the knight. But the valiant black warhorse slammed its huge back feet into the last of the falling bridge and leaped. Like a huge black cat, it soared up, stretching its forelegs desperately, the dark knight hanging on tightly, letting the horse do what it must. The huge plate-feet scrabbled on the crumbling bank, and the hind legs came up and under again to bound away from the failing slope. In the distance, howls and screams told them that the falling bridge had taken several of the Wilderkin and their foxdogs with it.

The stallion came to a stop, panting, and Blackmail dismounted instantly, checking the animal's hooves. The others turned in fury on Valerie, while on the far side of the bank, the vague shadows of Wilderkin flickered in frustrated rage, and the faint voices cried revenge. "You almost killed us, you stupid wench!" shouted Arcie. "Blowing up the bridge whilst we was still on it!"

Robin stood trembling a moment. He had only made it across the bridge by shutting his eyes and running by sound, but as the bridge had buckled he had unfortunately looked down. The sickening plunge, the thinness of the air... his legs slowly folded, and he collapsed in an ungainly heap. Kaylana, after a burning glare at the sorceress, turned to attend to the centaur.