Shadow Blizzard (50 page)

Read Shadow Blizzard Online

Authors: Alexey Pehov

Tags: #Language Arts & Disciplines, #Linguistics, #Fantasy Fiction, #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Epic

BOOK: Shadow Blizzard
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“Orcs.”

“Orcs.” She shook her head sadly. “A flinny told me what was happening, but I was not able to come any sooner. Sunpatch will attend to your friend.”

One of her three companions went to the injured man and leaned down over him.

I thought about the flinny. The little lad had promised to warn those who should be warned, but how could I have guessed that he meant the dryads?

The drums kept rumbling.

*   *   *

 

“The orcs are proud and stubborn,” Babbling Brook sighed. “The Horn has blinded them. They refused to listen to me and leave the artifact to its fate.”

“The orcs dared to disobey?” Kli-Kli whispered in horror. “But—”

“And they are coming here to take what you have in your possession,” the Mistress declared in a severe tone.

“But surely madam will not allow the Firstborn to take possession of the Horn?” Kli-Kli squealed plaintively.

“I will not allow it, although I would have preferred if it had never left the dark depths of the Cradle of the Dead. The Firstborn have made their choice, and I have made mine. The forest stands above all other things, and I shall help you leave Zagraba.”

“Please pardon me for interrupting. I mean no harm by it, I’m only a simple man,” Lamplighter said slowly. “But how can four little girls stop the Firstborn?”

Kli-Kli hissed at this sacrilege, but the dryad only smiled sadly. “Where steel cannot help, the forest will, man.”

There was a deafening smashing and cracking sound from behind the trees, and Eel snatched his two blades out again.

“Put away your weapons!” one of the dryads told the Garrakian in a cold voice.

Eel cast a questioning glance at the elf. Egrassa nodded gently, keeping his eyes fixed on the trees. Something big was crashing its way through the forest toward us. Babbling Brook’s lips were set in a mysterious smile. The bushes at the edge of the clearing swayed and collapsed with a crack. Immense shadows loomed up out of the mist.

“Sagra, save us!” Eel gasped. “They’re…”

“They are Thunder, Whirlwind, Hail, Hurricane, Blizzard, and Boomer,” said Babbling Brook, and I thought I heard a note of pride in her voice. “They have agreed to help me.”

I hadn’t noticed when Kli-Kli took hold of my hand. She seemed to be every bit as frightened as I was. And there was certainly something to be frightened of!

When our group first entered Zagraba, we came across a wild boar. He was a large, mature tusker, and I thought he was the king of boars, that no beast could possibly be any larger.

But I was clearly mistaken. And very badly mistaken. There was absolutely no comparison between that boar and the six standing there in front of us. They were gods of the forest. Boar kings. Each of them stood four and a half yards tall, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much they weighed. They were monstrously huge, so huge that next to them, we were no more than pitiful bugs. Long knobbly snouts, immense dark yellow tusks that could have ripped a mammoth’s stomach open with a single thrust, reddish gleaming fur, cunning little black eyes. I’m sure I’ll remember the magnificence of those beautiful animals until the day I die. They surrounded us in a semicircle and waited for the Mistress of the Dryads to utter her command.

“We do not command, man,” said Babbling Brook, looking into my eyes. “We cannot command the forest. We can only ask for its help. Lead on your warriors, Boomer!”

One of the boars opened its terrible jaws, roared so loudly that I was almost deafened, and went dashing toward the sound of the orcs’ drums. The other five boars followed their leader, screeching belligerently. The six forest gods ran to the trees, smashed their way into the dense undergrowth, and disappeared.

“Boomer and his warriors will stop the Firstborn. It is not likely that any will escape their fangs and hooves, so now you have several days.”

“My thanks, Mistress,” said Egrassa, pressing his hand to his heart. “My house is irredeemably in your debt.”

“I shall remember your words, elf, and I shall ask you to return the favor when the time comes,” the dryad said with a serious nod.

“Madam, if the orcs find the bodies of their comrades, they will realize what has happened and pursue us once again.”

“They will not find the bodies,” said Sunpatch, walking away from Hallas. “Boomer’s warriors always eat their enemies.”

The thought of those giants devouring the bodies of the orcs sent cold shivers running down my spine. Just at that moment the orcs’ drums fell silent and a second later the plaintive song of a horn rang out. But the sound broke off when it had barely begun, and silence returned to the forest.

“That is done, now it is time for you to leave,” the little girl said to the elf. “Sunpatch?”

“A serious wound, Mistress. I have done everything that I could.”

“Will he live?” Lamplighter blurted out.

“Yes. He has a fever now, but in two days he will be able to stand. Unfortunately I was not able to save his eye.”

“The forest is not all-powerful,” sighed Babbling Brook. “But the important thing is that your friend will live.”

The forest is not all-powerful? Somehow I doubted that very much. At least, the most skillful of healers could not have done what the dryad had done. Not every member of the Order could have healed a wound like that and plucked the gnome out of the tenacious embrace of that beauty, Death. But this dryad, who looked so much like a twelve-year-old girl, had done it.

“Harold, take Mumr and fetch the stretcher,” Egrassa said in a quiet voice.

“No need,” Babbling Brook interrupted. “I do not intend to tolerate the Horn in my forest any longer than is absolutely necessary. On foot it will take you too long to find your way out. That does not suit the forest. If the power abandons the Horn close to the Cradle of the Dead, something terrible will happen. The farther you are from the place called Hrad Spein, the better for the forest. And I shall not be obliged to meddle even more in the affairs of men, elves, and orcs.”

“Are you going to give us horses?” I asked in surprise.

“No. They would not move through the forest very quickly. I have something else for you. Fluffy Cloud?”

The dryad standing beside Sunpatch nodded and gave a loud whistle. Four elk walked out into the clearing.

“Thank you for answering my request, Runner in the Moonlight,” Babbling Brook said with a smile. “These strangers must be taken to the lands of men as quickly as possible.”

The brown eyes of one of the elk looked us over. Then the beautiful animal lowered its horned head and snorted in agreement.

“Thank you, friend. There is no time to be lost, Egrassa of the House of the Black Moon. It is time for you and your men to set out.”

“How shall we sit on them and guide them?”

“There is no need for you to guide them. Fluffy Cloud and Sunpatch will go with you.”

Mumr peered once again at the motionless elk in front of him and gulped, but he didn’t say anything.

We mounted the elk in total silence. The first to leap up onto the back of the nearest beast was Eel. He held out his hand to Mumr and helped his friend settle behind him. My elk was a match for the size of Runner in the Moonlight and I was just trying to figure out how I was going to clamber up on it, when the animal went down on its knees. I quickly settled on its back, which was wet from the rain. Kli-Kli, determined not to let me get away, sat behind me and grabbed hold of my jacket.

The elk straightened its legs out smoothly, and to avoid falling off, I grabbed hold of one of its horns with my hand (the other hand was holding the krasta). The beast didn’t seem to object to this familiar treatment. With the elf’s help, the dryads loaded Hallas onto a third elk. Sunpatch stayed with the wounded gnome, holding him tightly round the waist. Egrassa and Fluffy Cloud were on Runner in the Moonlight.

“I thank you once again, Mistress, for the help that you have given us,” Egrassa said in farewell. “The doors of my house are always open to the Daughters of the Forest, and no malice will be found in it. This I swear on the honor of my clan.”

“Do not thank me, king. Thank the forest,” said the little girl with wise eyes, looking up at the elf towering over her. “Perhaps I shall find the time to come to your house when there is peace and nothing threatens the balance. I hope so. But enough, I can already hear Boomer and his warriors on their way here. You should leave. After battle they are always hungry, and there were too few orcs to satisfy the Children of the Forest. If they decide to dine on you, not even I will be able to stop them. You had better go.”

Waving her hand in farewell, Babbling Brook turned away from us. Taking this gesture as a command, Runner in the Moonlight set off at a fast trot toward the trees shrouded in mist.

*   *   *

 

Babbling Brook was right—the elk were much better than the finest of horses. The four animals raced through Zagraba, without stopping, until nightfall. In places where horses would have fallen, broken their legs, or simply not been able to get through, the elk just kept going.

Runner in the Moonlight forged straight ahead, smashing through the bushes and undergrowth with his mighty hooves. Swampy hollows, swollen by the continuous rain, and stretches of fallen trees were crossed at a run, or in mighty bounding leaps. The elk were tireless, and in half a day we covered a distance that would have taken horses at least three days, or even four.

At first I was afraid of falling off, but my misgivings proved groundless. Even in the densest thickets, the beast moved so smoothly that the king’s horses would have died of envy if they could have seen it.

When twilight started drawing in, Fluffy Cloud asked Runner in the Moonlight to stop, and jumped down lightly to the ground. We followed her example and then took Hallas down off the elk. The gnome had still not recovered consciousness, but now at least he was not as pale as in the morning. The wounded warrior was groaning quietly.

“He has a fever,” said Sunpatch. “The wound has almost healed over, but he is still weak.”

“Light a fire,” Egrassa told Eel.

The Garrakian glanced at the dryad, but the elf shook his head.

“She has nothing against fire.”

The elk disappeared into the forest, and Fluffy Cloud said they would come back at dawn. Sunpatch attended to the gnome, with Kli-Kli hanging around nearby. Fluffy Cloud handed out fresh flapjacks, so we didn’t go hungry. Then the dryad went up to the golden-leaf, laid her hand on its trunk, and asked the tree to protect us from the rain. I swear on my first Commission that the tree did as she asked! It seemed to lean down over us, and its branches wove themselves into something very much like a huge awning.

“You have a heavy day tomorrow,” Fluffy Cloud said. “You need a good night’s sleep, if you do not wish to fall off your mounts.”

Egrassa tried to appoint sentries for the night, but the dryad made a disdainful face at that.

“You can sleep easy. You are in no danger while we are here.”

“What about the Firstborn?”

“They would not dare to attack Daughters of the Forest. Have no fear.”

Egrassa seemed perfectly satisfied with what the dryad had said, and he lay down to sleep without wasting any more time. Eel followed his example. Mumr sat beside the fire for a little while, sighing to himself, and then also settled down for the night.

“What’s the matter, Harold?” Kli-Kli asked me.

“I’m not sleepy,” I lied. “You go ahead, it’s all right. I’ll sit here for a while.”

“I’m not sleepy, either,” the gobliness replied.

Sunpatch sat opposite us and stared without blinking into the flames of the fire. Fluffy Cloud disappeared into the darkness of the forest. We didn’t speak, and Kli-Kli’s head gradually began nodding. Then Glo-Glo’s granddaughter was completely overcome and she dropped off, snuggled up against my shoulder. She even started snoring. She was tired, and no wonder—we were all very tired after that day.

A hard day. An appalling day. A black day. Like so many others in recent months. Our group had suffered grievous, irreparable losses. I still couldn’t believe that the ginger-headed dwarf was dead and had been abandoned to the mercy of the forest spirits.

Deler had paid for Hallas’s life with his own, and if not for the dryads, that terrible price would have been paid in vain. Deler was gone now, like so many other members of the small band of brothers that had set out with me to retrieve the Rainbow Horn. Alistan had walked away into the mist, leading the orcs after him, and disappeared. And the most terrible thing was that now we would never know what had happened to the count, how he had died.

Died?

I was burying the captain of the royal guard too soon. I hadn’t seen his body, so for me he would always be alive. Perhaps Milord Alistan had managed to get away from the Firstborn. Sensing someone’s glance on me, I looked at the Daughter of the Forest.

“He will not come, man.”

“How do you know … madam?”

“The forest and the forest spirits told me. You do not hear them. Believe me, I am very sorry that we could not come sooner.”

“How…” I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. “How did he die?”

“Do you really wish to know?” she asked, with the flames of the campfire reflected in her big black eyes. “Why do you need that pain? He is dead, is that not enough?”

“No, not for me.”

“Very well, look. And do not tell me afterward that I did not warn you.”

Her black eyes suddenly blazed up in a flash of intense green light and, before I realized what was happening, the world was plunged into darkness.

*   *   *

 

The hunting horns called triumphantly to each other behind his back, but he ran on and on, leading the orcs farther away from the group. He hoped very much that Egrassa would be able to lead them out of this accursed forest, and then there would be some hope for Valiostr. The phantoms created by the old shaman’s spell glided silently along at his back, leaving clear tracks on the earth and the leaves.

He ran quickly, but tried to husband his strength, so that he would not be winded for the battle ahead. Count Alistan Markauz had no illusions that he might escape. He knew that sooner or later the Firstborn would catch him, and there was little chance that he would survive the encounter.

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