The Chaos Gate, page 17
I’ve had to fight off so many waves of that cursed Chaos Gate I’m surprised I still have any more brains than a duck.
But the spell’s Power did seem, at last, to be dissipating. Today he had actually been able to keep more than one coherent thought in his head at a time.
For what good that served. No matter how I struggle, I can’t seem to focus on Kevin’s aura yet. I…hope that’s just because of the interference from all those wandering bits of sorcery.
Someone was pulling at his sleeve. Naitachal whirled with elven speed, more angry at himself for being startled than at the human for startling him, and fixed the offender with as sorcerous a glare as he could manage. The bandit shrank back with a gasp. “Sorry.”
“What is it?” Naitachal snapped “You have disturbed my thoughts of sorcery. The reason for that disturbance had best be something of worth.”
“Uh…well…we were…uh…all of us were wondering—”
“Wondering what, you idiots? Wondering why I don’t strike you down where you stand?”
They flinched at that, and some of them, particularly the scrawny youngster, Kem, actually blanched. But the bandit who’d pulled at his sleeve continued doggedly, “Well…uh…you said we were going to find that Count Kevin.”
“And so we are.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. We’re not arguing, see. Only…all we seem to be doing so far is a lot of walking, and—”
“And what?” Naitachal snapped.
But he was far from feeling as confident as the chill Nithathil image he was projecting. Humans were often a tricky lot, particularly those of such a desperate, low class. This was the first sign of rebellion from them; small though it was, he knew if he didn’t stop it now, the fickle creatures would turn on him, his bright promises of a pardon notwithstanding.
“Are you accusing me of lying to you?” Naitachal asked coldly. “Are you actually daring to accuse me of anything?” As he spoke, Naitachal slid subtly into shadow, knowing from previous experience with humans that normal elven reflexes would cause his eyes to glint redly as they adjusted to the darkness. Judging from the sudden new terror on the bandits’ faces, the effect was working very nicely. “Well?” he challenged, glaring. “Answer me! Do you dare accuse me?”
“No, no,” they all stammered out in a tangle of voices, “of course not!”
He held up a stern hand, and they all fell obediently silent. “I need not depend on anything as slow as foot travel. Surely even such as you understand that. But you are human, only that. We have no steeds of any sort, nor could I magic any that would bear your land.” Nor could I magic any steeds, Naitachal added to himself with wry honesty. Never was one for that type of magic. “If you know of any faster way for humans on foot to travel, speak up now.”
Silence.
“So.” He fixed them all once more with his most sorcerous glare. “I am your leader or I am not. Which is it to be?”
They assured him in an eager babble that of course he was their leader, they were honored that he was their leader, they would never even dream of challenging him again. With a thin smile, Naitachal turned his back on them (not without an atavistic tingling between his shoulder blades; he still wasn’t used to being able to safely turn his back on anyone, and these were hardly trusted friends) and stalked on.
One more battle won. Even if it was against these creatures. Nothing to do now but keep leading his adopted band of robber scum in as logical a path as he could manage. Eventually what was left of the Gate Spell would vanish completely and give him a chance to find Kevin.
I hope.
And, he hoped, before the bandits woke up to the fact that their new leader wasn’t bringing them any closer to riches or that pardon.
Ah well, if the worst comes to the worst, I suppose I can sing them all to sleep long enough for me to make my escape. Naitachal grimly blocked sudden memories of earlier, darker days when Necromancy would have put a more definite end to any such human nuisances. He fought to ignore the sly little urge telling him that it would be so easy, just a few Words, a few quick, deadly touches to fragile human flesh—
No! He was not a Necromancer any longer! Come what may, he refused to be a Necromancer!
There are advantages to being a Bard, Naitachal thought dourly. Unless, of course, one of the bandits turns out to be tone-deaf. From everything Master Aidan told me, Bardic Magic can’t slide its musical way into the mind of someone who is totally tone-deaf.
Naitachal shook his head in wry amusement. He had troubles enough without starting to imagine more.
“Onward, my gallant band,” he said with a deliberately melodramatic sweep of arm. “Onward to glory.”
Or whatever.
Chapter XXI
. . . And Found
Tich’ki came whirring back to Lydia so fast the woman heard the thrum of her wings. “Dead men up ahead,” the fairy panted. “Looks like someone ran into an ambush.”
“Oh gods,” Count Trahern murmured. “Was there…a young woman among them?”
The fairy hesitated, looking uneasy for one of the few times Lydia could remember. “I don’t want to scare you,” she said at last. “I don’t know what your daughter looks like. So I think you’d better see this for yourself before—”
But with an anguished shout, Trahern kicked his horse into a gallop, shooting past her with such force she swayed in the air. “—you go into a panic,” she finished weakly.
“Come on,” Lydia said grimly. “Might as well learn the truth and get it over with.”
Tich’ki was right. These men definitely had been ambushed. Most of the bodies bore arrow wounds and signs they’d been dragged from their horses without having much of a chance to fight back. Count Trahern searched them wildly. “Deran, Terek, yes, yes, and here’s Degalth, you damned idiot.” He glanced sharply up at Tich’ki. “Where is she?”
“Over here. But I—”
Trahern was already turning over the sad little body. He stared a moment, then let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not Gwenlyn. This is one of her maidservants, the poor unlucky…”
His voice trailed into silence. If Gwenlyn wasn’t here, the odds were overwhelming that she had been carried off by the bandits. And that meant the slain maidservant might be the lucky one.
“We’ll find her,” Lydia said confidently into the silence. “You, and you, get out of my way.”
Crouching, she studied the torn-up earth. Lots of frantically milling horses trampling about. But yes…these were definitely the footprints of the bandits, not the well-shod feet of a count’s guards but men wearing makeshift sandals or worn-out boots. Now, if she could only find…hah, yes, look at this, here were the dainty prints of a woman’s booted foot. Had to be Gwenlyn. Mm, yes, and judging from the disturbed earth here, she’d put up quite a good fight. Lost it, of course, one girl against all those bandits. No signs that they had…ah…harmed her.
But where did they go? They had to have left…ah, yes…here were the signs showing which way the bandits had gone, a mass of footprints, with one small, elegant footprint in their midst showing the bandits had, indeed, carried Gwenlyn off.
“This way,” Lydia said shortly, still studying the ground. Light was tricky in a forest, what with swaying branches and lots of shadows, but natural light gave a truer picture for trackers than did torch flames, which flattened everything out, and she wanted to get as far as possible before sundown. “Someone take my horse. Hey, you! Stay behind me. Don’t block my sight.”
The trail was clear enough. Although one of the bandits had made a rudimentary effort to wipe out their footprints with a branch, he’d been nicely clumsy at it. Lydia moved smoothly along, reading broken twigs here, clear footprint there, scrap of cloth on this branch.
Then Tich’ki was suddenly screaming, “Sorcery! Stop!”
Lydia did stop, throwing herself frantically backwards—but the others didn’t stop, not quite in time, and they pushed her with them through yet another blurring of the world to come out to a jarring landing in—
“Oh hell,” Lydia said in disgust, scrambling up and brushing herself off, looking about at an unfamiliar glade, hearing an uproar of terrified horses and men behind her. “Now where are we?”
Count Trahern was afoot, clutching his panicky horse’s bridle in a deathlike grip, his eyes wild with despair. “Why now, dammit?” he cried to no one in particular. “Why, just when we’d found the track—” With a visible effort at self-control, the count answered Lydia in a choked voice, “I don’t know. Some other corner of forest. Ah gods, why? Now we’ll never find her! Now we’ll never find my little girl!”
Not knowing what else to do, Lydia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. His own hand closed firmly on hers, and just for a moment she was sure he was going to brush her fingers with his lips. But then he released her, almost brusquely. “There’s no help for it,” the count said grimly. “We must go forward.”
“Yeah. The forest doesn’t go on forever. We’ll find our way back.” Eventually.
Tich’ki, who had been ranging ahead of them, came speeding back like a falcon, zooming down for a landing on a branch just over Lydia’s head. “Weird.”
“What’s weird?” Lydia asked in alarm, craning her head back.
The fairy shrugged, the shivering of her wings giving away her uneasiness. “I’m not sure. Could have sworn I just sensed our Dark Elf friend—”
“Naitachal! Where?”
“Who knows? I think I sensed him, but I sure don’t see him anyplace. He could be anywhere! With all this broken-up magic wandering about, it’s really rough to figure anything out.”
Lydia, all set to retort, It usually is for you, bit back the easy jest. Instead, she found herself glancing back at Count Trahern. “Yeah,” she said softly. “It sure is.”
###
Naitachal admitted wearily to himself that by now he was thoroughly sick of forest and forest and yet more forest. At least the spell’s pull had deteriorated sufficiently for his mind to stay clear for reassuringly long stretches. And he was managing to lead the bandits in a relatively straight path.
But what good is that? Where are we going? I don’t sense Kevin anywhere!
There hadn’t been any more open signs of rebellion in the ranks, but he could hear the faintest discontented murmurings and feel their restlessness growing.
In a few moments, Naitachal knew, he was going to have to turn and confront them again. But intimidating them now, he thought with a silent sigh, would be a temporary measure at best. Sooner or later he was either going to have to show them something positive, or else give up on the whole idea of using them to help him, and simply find a way to escape the tedious, useless lot of them.
But suddenly Naitachal stopped short, staring, listening, with senses far beyond the human. Could that be…yes! Magical blood always called to magical blood, and he could swear he sensed none other than that quirky little Tich’ki! Tich’ki! he shouted mentally. And again, Tich’ki! I’m here! Where are you?
###
“I don’t believe it!”
Lydia looked up at that startled cry to see Tich’ki freeze in midair, dropping a good hand before she recovered and got her wings working again. “What’s the matter?”
The fairy swooped down to land on her shoulder, hanging onto her hair. “Naitachal just called to me! I don’t see him anywhere, but I swear I heard him!”
“Can you cast any sort of spell? Get him here?”
Tich’ki shrugged. “Never was much of a magician. You know that. Still…I wonder…uh-huh. Worth a try.”
“What?”
“Remember how I located the jewels that thief of a merchant was hiding?”
“They were his jewels,” Lydia murmured.
“Details, mere details. Anyhow, remember what I did?”
“Nearly got me arrested, if memory serves.”
“That was after! How was I to know the guard would wake up and sneeze when he did?”
“How could he help it? I told you not to use that feather to snare the keys—”
“Never mind, never mind. What I’m trying to say is that I did use a spell back then, a Finding Spell. It’s not much of a spell, I admit it, not the sort of thing you want to use to find something as big as an elf. But who knows? Everything else around here has been so weird and unpredictable it just might work.”
“Well? Try it.”
“All right. Here we go.” Tich’ki’s small form went rigid on Lydia’s shoulder, and the woman guessed she was trying to call to Naitachal, mind to mind. “Ahh,” the fairy murmured after a moment, so softly Lydia almost didn’t hear her. Glancing sideways, she saw Tich’ki’s gaze go fierce and remote.
She’s reached Naitachal, all right. At least I hope it’s Naitachal she’s reached!
Tich’ki was muttering odd, odd syllables in the fairy tongue. Lydia wasn’t sure exactly what spell she was casting—it didn’t quite sound like anything Tich’ki had ever tried before—but whatever the spell was, it was working. Or at least, Lydia thought warily, it was starting something, an odd prickling of the air around the fairy, a strange, small tension that was beginning to feel very annoying. Lydia sighed in relief when Tich’ki suddenly launched herself into the air, flying blindly forward. And suddenly the air before the fairy shimmered so strongly Lydia blinked, dazzled.
“Tich’ki, be careful…”
But as suddenly as the dropping of a veil, the shimmer was gone, revealing yet more forest beyond it, and—“Naitachal!” Lydia shouted.
Count Trahern hurried to her side. “What are you doing?” he whispered fiercely. “That’s a Dark Elf!”
“Yeah, of course it is, our Dark Elf. Naitachal, I’d like you to meet Count Trahern.”
The elf swept down in an elegant bow, his blue eyes amused. “We have, though I doubt the count realizes it, already met.”
“Your pardon.” Count Trahern was hardly about to let a Dark Elf top him for courtesy. “If so, I fear I truly do not remember.”
“The fault is mine.” Only someone who knew Naitachal could have detected the tiny edge of mockery in his voice. “I never was actually introduced to you, after all. But I was the Bard who harped while Count Kevin sang.” Ignoring Count Trahern’s start, he added to Lydia, “You…wouldn’t happen to have seen him, would you?”
“I was kind of hoping you had. Naitachal, what—”
But Lydia was interrupted by the count’s men rushing forward to encircle and drag forward a scruffy, nervously struggling group of men. “Ah,” Naitachal said mildly, “I see you’ve found my loyal followers.”
“Followers!” Lydia snapped. “Are you crazy, Naitachal? Those have got to be bandits!”
“We all have our little faults.”
But Count Trahern was stalking fiercely forward, asking them, “My daughter, damn you, where is my daughter?”
They shrank before his fury, stammering, “N-never saw her.” “Don’t know whatcha talking about.”
But one scrawny youngster cut in, just a moment too late for his voice to be lost in the others, “We didn’t hurt her.”
He fell silent, horrified at what he’d just as good as confessed, and the furious count grabbed him by the neck of his filthy tunic, almost lifting him from the ground. “Where is she?” Trahern roared. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“You’re choking the boy,” Naitachal said quietly. “Let him go. I can learn the truth far more easily.” There was just the faintest hint of dark menace in the simple words. “Come, let him go.”
Reluctantly, the count complied. As Naitachal moved softly forward, Kem’s terrified glance shot his way, full of frantic pleading. “Kem. Listen to me. You will not be hurt if only you tell me exactly what you and your fellows have done. Did you, indeed, carry off this man’s daughter?”
Held helpless by the sorcerous blue gaze, Kem at first could only nod. But then he croaked out, “D-didn’t know who she was, only that she w-was a noblewoman.”
“I see. And did you or your fellows harm her?”
“No! I swear it! N-not really. I mean,” Kem added hastily, seeing Count Trahern tense, “she put up a fight, we mighta bruised her a bit, but there wasn’t nothing serious, honest. We didn’t…uh…you know, do anything deliberatelike.”
“Ah.” Naitachal glanced at the count. “I think you may just have earned back your life with your honesty. If you answer the next question as well, that is. Where is she?”
Kem licked his lips with a nervous tongue. “Dunno.”
“What?” Count Trahern cut in savagely. “How could you not know?”
“I don’t! I swear it!”
Naitachal held up a hand before Trahern could interrupt again. “What do you know of where she went?”
The boy shivered. “First she went down into a hive.”
“An Arachnia hive, I take it.”
“She’d be safe down there,” the count muttered. “I’ve always had fair dealing with the Arachnia.”
“And is she still there?” Naitachal asked the boy.
“N-no. She left. That’s what I heard the Bugs saying before we ran off. She and one of them went off into the forest. And that’s all I know. It’s the truth!”
“So it is,” Naitachal agreed after a moment’s intense study of the boy. “It would appear we have not one lost soul to find but two.” The elf turned with a sigh and walked back to where Lydia stood watching.
“How did you get hooked up with that lot?” she asked sharply.
“Not intentionally, I assure you. They were trying to kill me, I was trying to save my life, and one thing led to another. They seem to have adopted me. And by this point I can’t really be easily rid of them. I—ah—promised them something, you see.”
