Guardians of the Lost (34 page)

He kept tight hold of the horses, for flames were starting to erupt around them. Smoke tinged the air. The horses rolled their eyes, nervous at the smell of burning and the fear that was palpable in the air. Wolfram stayed close to the heads of each animal, kept up a constant flow of soothing talk. The horses suffered him to lead them through the confusion and the cinders and smoke.

The streets of Karfa 'Len were crowded with people, but, unlike Dunkar, no one panicked. Every citizen was warrior-trained, knew what to do, where to go. Still, Wolfram and Ranessa had to make their way through streets clogged with soldiers running to reinforce the walls or dashing off to fight the fires that were now raging in various parts of the city. Their pace slowed to a crawl.

With the increasing smoke and noise, Wolfram had all he could do to keep the horses calm. He could not worry about Ranessa. Either she kept up with him or she didn't. Every passing moment brought the orks closer and while orks in general have friendly feelings toward dwarves, these orks wouldn't be having friendly feelings toward anyone they found in the city of their most hated enemy, those who had attacked and captured Mount Sa 'Gra, their sacred mountain, those who had taken many orks slaves.

He turned down one street, only to find it blocked. A wooden building had caught fire and collapsed, sending flaming rubble into the street. He retraced his steps, found another street, but he was now worried that he would end up lost. Not much liking Karnuans,
who didn't have much liking for his kind, he never spent much time in Karfa 'Len. He knew his way to his destination and that was about it.

Ranessa kept close, her hand clinging to her horse's mane. He had no breath left to speak to her. Smoke burned his throat and stung his eyes. His arms ached. He coughed, blinked away tears, and kept trudging forward.

At the end of the next street, their way was blocked by a bucket brigade. A line of people stretched from the well to a burning house, passing along filled buckets and taking back empty ones to fill again. Wolfram kept going, determined to shove his way through if they would not let him by.

A glob of flaming jelly landed on the cobblestones near the Karnuans, splashing some of them, setting clothes and skin alight. Dropping buckets, they scrambled to get out of the way as the flaming jelly spread fire across the cobblestones. Some ripped off burning clothing, others screamed as the globules burned holes in their flesh. The fiery ooze struck closest to an old man. The burning jelly covered his chest and face, burned off his clothes in an instant, setting his very flesh afire. He shrieked in pain, staggered backward, clawing at the air with his hands.

His skin burned black, cracking and bubbling from the heat. His cries of agony were terrible to hear, resounded throughout the street. A young woman hovered near him, crying out that he was her father and begging someone to help him. His neighbors regarded him with pity and horror, but no one went near him. There was nothing they could do. If anyone touched him, the flaming substance would cling to him, set him ablaze, as well.

At last, one of the men—a veteran with a wooden leg—grabbed up a piece of timber that had fallen from the burning building and bashed the old man over the head. His skull crushed, he dropped to the ground. His screaming ceased.

“
Al shat alma shal
,” said the veteran.

Tossing aside the bloodied timber, he grabbed up a bucket and the water started flowing again, people edging gingerly around what remained of the flaming jelly. The old man's body continued
to burn. His daughter stood over him for a moment with her head bowed, then she, too, returned to help pass buckets.

Wolfram had caught only glimpses of this. At the sight of the flames bursting up right in front of him, the horse reared in panic, nearly dragged Wolfram's arms out of their sockets. He spent a bad few moments struggling with the bucking and lurching beasts, trying desperately to calm them.

At last he had the horses under control. Exhausted, he stood panting, hoping to catch his breath, only to inhale smoke and spend the next few moments choking. Ranessa stood at his side, unmoving, staring.

“You might have at least helped me with the beasts, Girl!” Wolfram snarled, when he could talk again.

She turned and gave him the strangest look: as if she were seeing him from a far distance, as if she were standing on a mountaintop and he was in a valley below or as if she were somewhere up among the clouds and he was afloat on a vast ocean.

“Why do men do this to each other?” she demanded.

“Don't be daft, Girl,” he said, exasperated. “The old man might have lingered for hours in terrible pain and suffering. The soldier did him a favor.”

“Not just that,” she said softly and, by her tone and her look, she had never before set eyes upon him. She spoke to a stranger. “All of it.”

“Barking mad,” said Wolfram to himself, shaking his head. He cast a glance at the body of the old man, now little more than a charred and smoldering lump. He looked at the burning building, the young woman passing buckets as the tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks, the veteran who continued to keep the water moving, even as he peered grimly over his shoulder in the direction of the harbor.

Nearby was a slave pen and an auction block. Several orks, chained together at the ankles, were being hastily moved to a place of safety. Their masters were not concerned over the orks' welfare, just over their profits. The orks lifted their heads, strained to see the harbor where lay freedom. They dared not cheer when a Karnuan
house went up in flames, for the slave masters had whips in their hands. But they smiled.

“All of it,” Ranessa said again.

Wolfram turned the horses. “Let's find another way.”

 

The Vrykyl, Jedash, lost the dwarf and the Trevenici when they crossed over the Nabir river. He spent days combing the countryside for some sign of their trail. When at last he found it, the scent was cold. He estimated that they were at least three days ahead of him. Jedash was growing increasingly angry and frustrated over his failure. He had no answer to Shakur's insistent demands for information and now did his best to avoid Shakur. Jedash used the blood knife as infrequently as possible.

Jedash was well aware that Shakur was furious with him. Shakur cursed his lieutenant for being incompetent, could not understand why Jedash had not run such easy quarry to ground. Jedash had no explanation for his failure himself. It was as if he were chasing smoke. One moment he saw it clearly. The next moment came a puff of wind and it was gone.

Standing over the remnants of their camp, Jedash faced a difficult decision. He had an idea as to where they were headed. Karfa 'Len was the only major city in this part of Karnu and they were on the road leading to it. He could continue to traipse after them, wasting time meandering around the countryside in search of them, or he could place his money on his hunch that they were traveling to Karfa 'Len, could go there and wait for them. If he caught them in the city, they would be hard pressed to shake him.

Jedash decided that the odds were in his favor and he traveled to Karfa 'Len in haste. He avoided the main road, for he had not fed in some time and when a Vrykyl does not feed, the undead being has difficulty concealing its true nature.

The city had closed its gates by the time Jedash arrived, but he had no trouble obtaining entry. Waiting until nightfall, he used the power of his Void magic to scale the outer wall. His hunger was by now immense, verging almost on panic, for he could feel the magic that held the rotting parts of his body together start to weaken. He
killed the first soldier he saw, thrust the blood knife into the man's heart. Jedash had a brief and fierce battle with the man's soul, but at last it succumbed to Jedash's will and he absorbed it into himself, strengthening the Void magic and assuaging his hunger.

He spent a difficult few moments answering to Shakur, who had been attracted to Jedash by the shared consciousness of the blood knife. Jedash assured Shakur that the two he sought could not escape him, not now.

Jedash disposed of the body by using a Void magic spell he had learned from taan shamans, a spell that accelerates decomposition of a corpse. The taan use such a spell to conceal from the enemy the numbers of their dead. Jedash found it useful in covering up his murders. Assuming the soldier's form, he finished the hours of his watch. All that was left of the corpse was a pile of black, moist dirt.

Jedash posted himself on duty at the gate, remained there day and night. His gamble paid off, his hunch was rewarded. He watched in satisfaction as the dwarf rode up to the gate, sought entry into the city.

Jedash looked for the dwarf's companion, the Trevenici female. Odd, but he had trouble seeing her. He was reminded of trying to look directly at the sun. It couldn't be done. Every time he tried, he was forced to avert his gaze. He couldn't understand it. Unlike the sun, the female didn't burn his eyes. No blinding light emanated from her. She appeared to be a perfectly normal human female, yet he could not keep her in view.

Jedash was about to leave his post, descend from the wall, when he realized that she was aware of him. She was searching for him. He froze in place. He felt her close to him and then her attention shifted suddenly away from him.

Relieved, he waited until the two had crossed the bailey and entered the next postern. By that time, the alarm had gone up that the orks were attacking. Jedash cared nothing about orks. He welcomed the confusion that would make snatching the dwarf that much easier.

Jedash raced across the bailey. He had to push his way through
the soldiers crowding the postern and when he did, he ran into the street only to find no sign of the dwarf or his strange companion.

Jedash stared about in bafflement. They could not have escaped him! Not this time.

Cursing, the Vrykyl plunged into the crowd.

W
olfram was lost. The last detour had proved a mistake. He turned down a street that he thought led to the harbor, only to find it wound around to the south. Boot Street lay well west of his position. He could guess by the blaring sounds of the conch shells that the orks blew in battle that they had managed to fight their way ashore.

The orks set more fires as they surged into the city. Clouds of smoke billowed into the air. At least, their ships had quit hurling the flaming jelly, probably afraid that they'd hit their own people.

Wolfram was bone-tired. His throat was raw. His arms were so weak from hanging onto the reins that they shook. He did not have strength to fight a child, much less an ork. When he found a water trough, he gave a great sigh of relief. He led the horses to the trough, let them drink, while he splashed the cool water on his head and laved his neck and rinsed the smoke out of his mouth.

Feeling better, he assessed the situation. The streets in this part of the city were almost deserted, the inhabitants having rushed off to fight the orks at the harbor. This was a commercial street, the shops were shuttered. Faces of children peeped out of the windows
above the shops. Occasionally an adult left behind to guard the children looked out as well, trying to see what was going on.

Wolfram sat down on the edge of the water trough, stuck his feet into the cool water.

“What are you doing?” Ranessa demanded.

“Soaking my feet.”

“But…why have you stopped? Shouldn't we be going?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head.

Ranessa glared at him, hands on her hips.

“Look, Girl, Boot Street, which is where we need to be, is hip deep in orks right now. If we went down there, we'd end up getting our throats cut if we were lucky or taken captive aboard an ork ship if we were not.”

“But we can't just stay here!” Ranessa protested.

“Yes, we can,” said Wolfram, complacently swishing his feet in the water. “I know ork raiders, Girl. They're here for three things: to do as much damage as possible, to steal as much loot as possible and to free all the ork slaves they can find. Once they've accomplished these goals, they'll go back to their ships and head for home. We just have to wait them out, that's all.” He glanced around. “This seems as good a place as any.”

Ranessa fidgeted and paced. Wolfram began to think he'd made a mistake. Ork voices, raised in gleeful howls or bellowing in pain, were coming closer, along with the clash of steel and officers shouting orders in Karnuan. The adults who had been looking out of windows came down to street level, stood in doorways, armed to the teeth, ready to defend their shops and their families.

One particularly gruesome cry caused Wolfram to flinch.

“Maybe you better go down to the corner of that street and take a look, Girl,” he said nervously, pulling his feet out of the horse trough. “I'll stay with the horses.”

“I told you,” Ranessa returned, glaring at him.

“Told me what?” Wolfram demanded, but she was gone, running for a cross street about a block away. “Maybe, if I'm lucky, an ork'll snatch her—”

Glimpsing movement out of the corner of his eye, Wolfram put his hand on the hilt of his short sword and turned around.

By the Wolf, he
was
jumpy. It was only a Karnuan soldier, walking down the street. Wolfram relaxed, looked away, keeping half an eye on Ranessa, who was at the end of the street, about a block distant. Never fully trusting humans, Wolfram glanced back at the soldier. The Karnuan's walk was purposeful and his gaze was fixed on the dwarf.

Wolfram felt a twinge of unease, began to question the sudden appearance of this soldier. What was he doing here alone, away from his post? Away from the fighting? Ranessa's warning came back to Wolfram and, though he had put little credence in her words at the time, they now seemed etched in fire.

It's here. It's following you.

Wolfram drew his sword.

The Karnuan's walk quickened.

Wolfram's hand on the hilt grew sweaty. The soldier was coming for him, that much was certain. Perhaps the Karnuans had decided to arrest all dwarves or perhaps this was something worse, the something that had been trailing them across the plains…

A blood-curdling horn blast sent Wolfram leaping sideways, his heart clogging his throat. Guttural voices mimicked the horn blast. A group of orks appeared at the end of the street.

The orks held flaming torches and enormous curved-bladed swords. Their hands were bloodied to the elbows, their faces covered with grime and soot and smeared with blood. One of them lifted a conch shell to his lips and gave another blast. Some of the orks began breaking shop windows, tossing their torches through the broken glass. Others, sighting the Karnuan soldier, brandished their weapons and howled their battle cries. Karnuan citizens surged out of their doorways, weapons drawn.

The Karnuan soldier stood between Wolfram and the advancing orks. The soldier scowled, glanced from the orks to the dwarf and back to the orks. The gleeful orks descended on the soldier, caught out in the open, alone. They figured him to be easy pickings. Other Karnuans ran to the attack, but there were only five of them to about fourteen orks.

Calculating that the orks would keep the soldier occupied, Wolfram took to his heels. He raced down the street toward Ranessa, who was at the other end. Hearing howls and curses in two languages and the clash of steel, he assumed that the Karnuans and the orks had by now been formally introduced. He glanced over his shoulder.

The Karnuan soldier was gone. He should have been between Wolfram and the orks, fighting for his life. He wasn't there. The soldier had disappeared. An ork stood in his place. As Wolfram looked back at the ork, the ork looked at Wolfram and began to give chase.

Wolfram could not understand what had happened. He was so amazed that he forgot to watch where he was going. Tripping over his own feet, the dwarf went sprawling headlong onto the cobblestones.

The chill of death washed over him. Terrible memories of the Vrykyl came to his mind—of Gustav dying in torment, of the armor in the cave, oozing evil…

Wolfram leapt to his feet in a pounding heartbeat. He began to run as he was in the act of standing and he took off down the street.

His legs were short, the ork's legs were long, and the dwarf had lost precious time in his fall. Wolfram heard the ork's pounding feet right behind him. Wolfram sucked in a deep breath, let it out in a bellow.

“Ranessa! Help me! Hel—”

The ork seized hold of Wolfram, clapped a hand over his mouth and, with strength that was incredible even for an ork, he snatched up the heavy dwarf, hoisted him off the ground.

Ranessa stood at the end of the street that ran downhill, led to the harbor. She didn't know anything about battles or military strategy, but even she could see that the orks were leaving the battle field. Their purpose accomplished, their raid successful, the ork captains sounded the retreat. The orks began to fall back. Disciplined, organized, they continued to set fires and grab up loot as they departed. They had with them freed ork slaves. The slaves still wore their chains, but they wouldn't be wearing them for long.

“Ranessa! Help me! Hel—”

Hearing Wolfram's cry, Ranessa turned to see an ork seize hold
of Wolfram and lift him off his feet. The ork tucked the stout dwarf under one arm as easily as if he'd been a keg of ale and began to race down the street.

Rage swept over Ranessa. She didn't think much of the dwarf, but he was her dwarf and he was going to lead her to the Dragon Mountain. And now this ork had ruined everything.

Her anger swelled. The form of the ork wavered in her vision and then the ork disappeared. In its place stood a knight helmed and armored in death.

Ranessa recognized the Vrykyl, recognized the curse Jessan had brought into their camp. The curse that had brought doom upon Raven and the rest of her people.

Ranessa yanked her sword from her sheath.

More than once, Wolfram had tried to persuade Ranessa to abandon the heavy sword. This failing, he had then attempted to teach her to use it, so that at least she wouldn't cut off anything important to herself or to him. His teaching had proven only moderately successful. Ranessa was not athletic, nor was she particularly well coordinated. When she swung the sword, it was a toss-up whether she'd do more damage to herself or the enemy.

Ranessa let out a shrill scream that was like nothing that ever came from a human throat and ran straight at the Vrykyl, swinging the sword in clumsy, slashing arcs that came perilously close to gashing open her own thighs.

Jedash had not even seen Ranessa. All he cared about was the dwarf. Having fortunately killed an ork once, Jedash had shifted his image from Karnuan soldier to ork soldier. He was making good his escape, when he heard Ranessa's shriek.

The Vrykyl stumbled to a halt. Amazed, fearful, he stared at the thing that confronted him. He had not expected this. Not expected anything close to this.

He was certainly not going to fight it. Turning, he started to retreat, only to find that the true orks had all departed. Jedash in ork form was the lone ork on the street. Swords glinting in the light of the fires, the Karnuan citizens advanced on him, determined to vent their fury on the only ork around.

In his true form, the Vrykyl would have made short work of the Karnuans. He might have stood a chance with Ranessa, but that would be a hard-fought battle, one he was not yet prepared to wage. Jedash flung the dwarf at the advancing Karnuans. The howling Wolfram bowled into them, knocked them down like skittles. Freed from this threat, Jedash departed in haste, cursing Shakur, who had sent him on this ill-fated mission without providing him with all the details.

Ranessa gave chase, her one thought to catch the Vrykyl and slay the evil creature. Her sword grew increasingly heavy, however, and very nearly slipped out of her grasp, for her palms were wet with sweat. She was not accustomed to running. Her legs hurt and she had a severe pain in her side and no breath left in her lungs. With a final parting shout, that was both a victory yell and a challenge, she came to a halt, stood panting in the street.

Flinging the heavy sword to the pavement, wringing her aching hands in relief, she walked back to where Wolfram and the Karnuans were endeavoring to sort themselves out. Ranessa reached out her hand to help the dwarf to his feet.

Wolfram took hold of her hand. She gave him a yank that nearly upended him.

“Thank you, Girl,” he said shakily. “You saved my life.”

“I did, didn't I.” She was gleeful. “Although I wish I'd had a chance to hit it with my sword. Are you hurt?”

Wolfram shook his head. He had a few bumps, his weak ankle ached, his ribs were bruised where the ork-thing had seized hold of him and he had a long, deep scratch down his arm made by a slashing Karnuan sword.

The Karnuans eyed Ranessa suspiciously. Far from being pleased that she'd helped them out, they grumbled that she'd stolen their opportunity for revenge. Knowing Karnuans and how they think, Wolfram guessed that it would be only a matter of time before it occurred to the Karnuans to take out their anger on the other foreigners in town.

“I'm all right,” Wolfram said. “Let's get out of here.”

Ranessa agreed. She'd spent time enough inside these walls. She wanted only to leave.

“That street leads to the harbor,” she said, pointing.

Wolfram was pleased and gratified to find their horses still standing near the trough. For love of the dwarf, the horses withstood their instinctive terror of the Vrykyl. Taking hold of the reins, Wolfram limped down the road, heading for Boot Street.

Ranessa walked alongside him. The silence between them was a comfort to them both. Their shared encounter, their glimpse into the horrible maw of the Void, their unspoken fears and terrors twined about them, bound them together.

“Where are we going?” she asked at last. “To see a cobbler?”

“Osim,” said Wolfram. “In Boot Street.”

“Looks like most of that part of the city is on fire. Your cobbler may be nothing but ashes.”

“Won't matter,” said Wolfram. “It's nothing to do with him, really. In the back of his shop are the public privies.” The dwarf grinned, his teeth white in his soot-covered face. “I don't think it likely the orks set fire to those. Inside the privies is a Portal, one of the magical tunnels through time and space. That's the real reason we came to the city.”

“Will this tunnel take us away from here?”

“Yes,” said Wolfram and he repeated it more emphatically. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said.

Wolfram noted something lacking.

“You dropped your sword, Girl,” he said, slowing his steps. “Do you want to go back and fetch it?”

Ranessa shook her head. “No, I don't want it. The sword is too heavy for me. Too heavy for me to bear.”