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Authors: Wayland Drew

Willow (9 page)

BOOK: Willow
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Now, Burglekutt ordered silence again.

“There’s no point shouting at her,” Willow sighed, lifting the baby out of her basket. “Besides, she’s sick.”

“She’s
not
sick,” Burglekutt said. “Give her to me!” He grabbed her roughly and began to shake her, holding her at eye level, saying, “Now see here, young lady . . .”

The child threw up violently.

A splat of thick vomit hit Burglekutt between the eyes.

“I told you,” Willow said, taking her back. “She’s really sick.”

“Is she going to
die
?” Meegosh asked.

“No.” Willow cleaned the child with moss and sweet water. “She’s just hot and tired and upset by all of this. She’ll be fine when she gets some proper rest and food.”

Burglekutt washed, sputtering, while the warriors sat cross-legged, smiling at him. “Those horsemen,” he said, “they were Daikinis. We should light a fire so they can see us. We should give her to them.”

Vohnkar shook his head, eyes narrowed. “Daikini, yes. But also Nockmaar.”

“Nockmaar?” Meegosh’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“My friend tells me.” Vohnkar smiled slightly, stroking his sword, “She is whispering the news. Nockmaar blood has made her happy, other times.”

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Willow asked.

“Yes.”

“W-will they have th-those d-d-dogs?”

“Yes, Burglekutt. But if you keep shaking like that you’ll get so thin they won’t want you.”

The three warriors laughed quietly. Vohnkar checked on the horsemen’s progress. They were headed east, away from the blighted area, off on some false scent. Later, in the still dusk, the Nelwyns heard the Death Dogs howling far away. All of them shuddered, even Vohnkar. “Only a fool is not afraid,” he said when he saw Willow looking at him. “How is the little one?”

“Better, Vohnkar.”

“Let me carry her across this place. We shall have a quiet journey tonight, and you have enough to bear.”

They did have a quiet passage. They moved through that stunted region in a cool night, by the light of stars. Vohnkar cradled the child in one arm, smiling at her often. Several times, secretly, he touched the enigmatic birthmark on her arm. Several times he whispered strange words that none of the other Nelwyns would have understood, even if they had heard.

For a time, a brown bear traveled with them. He had crossed to meet them from the other side. He regarded the little procession solemnly as they passed, then turned and ambled beside them, a few paces off. Burglekutt began to hiss and fling his arms to shoo the bear away, but Vohnkar silenced him. “Fool! Do you not see what he is doing. Do you not see that he is our friend?”

And he showed them how the bear was keeping downwind between them and the dogs, so that the scent of his body would cover theirs.

At dawn the bear was gone. They were among hills again, and traveling on a track wider than any they had seen for several days. Not only that, but it showed signs of recent use—heavy use—so much, in fact, that Vohnkar motioned them off into the forest. The walking was much more difficult there, and Burglekutt whined so insistently that an exasperated Vohnkar finally booted him in the rump and sent him sprawling.

Seconds later, they were all on their bellies. Willow pressed his hand on the child’s mouth and whispered frantically for silence.

A troop of Nockmaar cavalry had rounded the bend ahead.

Wide-eyed in the bushes, Willow knew for the first time what it meant to be paralyzed by terror. He could not even have reached the stirrup on one of those black horses! A blow from a hoof would have crushed him! He could have been skewered on any of those iron horns sticking out of the beasts’ faceplates!

Even more terrible than their mounts were the massed troopers, the first Daikinis Willow had seen. They were enormous. Armor clanked as they rode. Leather tunics wrinkled like heavy skin, and capes swelled behind like bats’ wings. Helmets slung from their saddles grinned like monstrous skulls. Most hideous were their weapons. Quivers of iron-tipped arrows rattled on their backs, and great bows of horn and sinew curved across their shoulders. Maces and spiked chains swung from their saddles. All carried swords hooked at the end, for gutting.

When they halted beside him, Willow crushed his face into the earth.

“The throats!”
Vohnkar whispered to his warriors.
“And the eyes!”

Galloping from the south, a messenger had met the troop at that moment. “Nelwyns!” he shouted, reining in his lathered mount. “Nelwyns have the baby. One of the dogs tracked her to their valley, but she’s gone. We think they’ve brought her north.”

“This far?” the lieutenant asked.

“Probably not. It’s too soon.” The scout twisted in his saddle. “Fan out across the plain and keep close watch. They’ll try to cross at night. I must report to Sorsha and General Kael. How far is their camp?”

“Twelve leagues. They’re laying siege to Galladoorn.”

“Galladoorn! Ha! The last jewel in Bavmorda’s crown! Except for the Nelwyns, and the Nelwyns count for little except sport.” The two men laughed harshly. “Good hunting to you, my friends! May you kill a score of the little pigs before nightfall and feed your dogs with them.”

“Aaargh!” Burglekutt murmured, burrowing deep into the damp moss.

“And may you encounter a little pig like me, my friend,”
Vohnkar whispered, eying the scout’s bared throat.
“Were I not charged with the safety of the child, those would be your last words!”

Still laughing, the troopers and the scout rode off in opposite directions, leaving the road empty once again.

The Nelwyns huddled in council.

“We should go back,” Willow said, shuddering with fear for Kiaya and his children. “If they go to the village . . .”

“We can take the baby with us,” Meegosh said. “We’ll outwit them!”

“Think!” Vohnkar’s level eyes steadied them all. “Do you want to lead them back to the valley again? No! Fulfill the mission. Come! Keep to the woods!”

They pressed on. The next day they reached a causeway across a vast and steamy swamp. Creatures from another age bellowed in the distance, their howls swirling in the mists so that they seemed to loom over them. Twice, when leathery birds swept past on creaking wings, Burglekutt covered his head and scampered in little circles, squeaking like a doomed rat.

Past the marsh, the road wound through a range of flat-topped hills and at last reached a broad plateau. Here in the evening of the following day, they came to the Daikini crossroads.

There could be no mistaking it. The road continued north, but a much broader highway crossed here, leading west and east as far as they could see. This was a highway for Daikinis, men much larger than the Nelwyns, and for their mounts and carriages. Even if the crossroads had not found such a grim place in Nelwyn lore, Willow would have known where they were.

The place of death, the legends called it.

The place of the end of dreams.

Many battles had been fought there. Many men had died. So steeped was the place in horror that Willow could
feel
it, even while he stood on the last slope looking down. He could feel the ground shake with the charge and clash of cavalry. He could hear the terrible song of arrow volleys, the hiss and smack of swords on leather armor, and the shrieks of slaughtered horses and mangled men. He could hear merciless laughter and screams as captive throats were slashed and torturers set to their grisly work. He could smell blood, and flayed flesh, and the stench of burning meat. Even from where he stood he could see the gibbets, the mounded graves, the scattered bones—all evidence of what Daikinis had done to each other at this place. One glance told Willow why his ancestors had fled south, away from the hosts of large men, to find peace in the glens of Nelwyn Valley.

He shut his eyes and turned away, hugging the child close. “I don’t want to go there, Vohnkar,” he whispered. “I can’t. I can’t.”

The warrior laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “You must,” he said. “You have a duty.”

Down they went together. With Burglekutt keeping to the rear, they descended the last slope and approached the Daikini crossroads.

The sun had just set. Reflecting off low clouds, the afterglow drenched the place in red. Close up, it was even more horrible than it had been from the hilltop. The contorted remains of horses and men lay everywhere, some mere skeletons, some dried black, some fresh and putrefying. Corpses on gibbet ropes swayed as if still caught in the currents of violence that had swept that place. Carrion birds circled, stretching scrawny necks.

“I don’t like it,” Burglekutt said. “I want to go home.”

“Quiet!” Vohnkar muttered, his narrow eyes sweeping the crossroads and the hills. “We all want to go home. We’re staying until we’ve done what we came to do.”

“Well, can we at least get away from
them
!” Burglekutt pointed toward a high wooden scaffolding directly across the road. Two iron cages hung there from stout chains. A grinning skeleton sat in the closer, draped in rotted rags. One hand gripped the bars and the other dangled through, a finger pointing at them. As the cage swung, the finger swept over them, and back.

One of the warriors cursed softly.

“Poor devil!” Vohnkar said. “I wonder what
his
crime was.”

“M-maybe just being here?” Willow suggested.

Vohnkar shook his head. “Not even Daikinis do that to ordinary folk,” he said. “Only to the really bad ones.”

Willow squinted at the other cage, but it hung farther back in the gloom, and he could see nothing but a pile of rags in the bottom.

“Let’s move away from them,” Meegosh said in a small voice. “For once I agree with Burglekutt. Those things make me shiver!”

Vohnkar beckoned. They moved across the road to a little thicket that had somehow escaped ravaging. Here, in the last of the light, they stood in a huddle, looking up and down the highway. The baby began to whimper, and Willow took her out of the basket. “She’s cold,” he said. “We should have a fire.”

“Fool! Idiot!” Burglekutt hissed. “You want to bring all Nockmaar down on us?”

Vohnkar shrugged. “Not much danger. Fires are common along here. People stop for the night, camp. Look, there’s one now, down to the east, at the base of that hill. There’s another. Besides, it’s a quiet night and a flat road. We can hear anyone coming from miles away. Willow’s right. The child needs warmth and rest.” He looked around. “Willow, Meegosh, Burglekutt, gather up some firewood before it gets too dark. We’ll keep watch.” He took the child from Willow.

While the three warriors took up positions, the others spread out and began to gather sticks.

“Not too far,” Vohnkar called after them. “Keep close enough so we can hear you call. Hurry!”

“No wood. No wood,” Burglekutt complained, trotting behind Willow.

“Of course there’s no wood! I’ve picked it all up! Go over there. See? There’s lots there.”

“It’s dark over there!”

“No darker than here, Burglekutt! Go on!”

So exasperated was Willow, so preoccupied with hurrying to gather enough fuel, that he did not notice he was going under the low-sweeping arms of the scaffolding where the iron cages hung. He saw only a sudden richness of good hardwood—wood that would burn down to warm embers. He did not realize when he passed beneath the first of the cages, the one with the leering skeleton. He did not know that he was under the second cage until a puff of wind moved it and rusty iron squeaked.

Then he knew.

Perhaps he would have escaped if he had dropped flat on his belly and wriggled away snakelike. He made the mistake of straightening up slowly, horrified, seeing the shadows closing him off from Vohnkar.

Creaking, the cage swung directly overhead.

Willow took one step toward safety.

With a clang and a rattle and a terrible hoarse cry, the mound of rags in the cage exploded into human shape. Or almost human shape. A claw on the end of a cadaverous arm dropped through the bars and snatched Willow up by the scruff of the neck. Wood went flying.

“Gotcha!”

Willow hung, strangling.

“Water, Peck! Tell your friends I want water, or I’ll strip the meat from your scrawny bones!” The voice rasped like a dry hinge.

Helpless, Willow swung. Through bulging eyes, he saw a small human pyramid appear below him.“Ufgood? Is that you?”

“Water!”
The claw shook Willow like a sock.

Willow fumbled at his collar. He gasped. “Burglekutt! Get Vohnkar!”

V
MADMARTIGAN

“A
Daikini!” Burglekutt shouted, waving his arms and scampering back toward the warriors. “Ufgood’s found a Daikini! Now we can go home!”

Vohnkar sprang up. He had been comforting the child and starting a small fire from the sticks close at hand. “Where is he?”

“There.” Burglekutt pointed toward the scaffold. “He’s, uh, talking to him. Actually, there’s a bit of a problem. You’d better come.”

Vohnkar beckoned his men. “Bring torches!” And in a moment they had all gathered below the arms of the scaffold.

BOOK: Willow
2.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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