Magician (25 page)

More time passed as they raced through
the dark corridors of the Green Heart Every advance along the escape
route was accompanied by the echoing cries of Dark Brothers as they
alerted others of the fugitives’ route. Occasionally Pug would
spy a shape loping along in the distance, quickly lost in the
darkness of the trees as it ran a parallel course. The accompanying
runners did not seek to hinder them, but always they were near.

Once more the Duke ordered a halt.
Turning to Gardan, he said, “Skirmishers! Find out how close
they follow. We must have rest.” Gardan indicated three men,
who quickly leapt from their horses and ran back along the route of
their retreat. A single clash of steel and a strangled cry heralded
their encounter with the closest Dark Brother tracker.

“Damn them!” said the Duke.
“They’re herding us in a circle, seeking to bring us back
into their main strength. Already we’re moving more north than
east.”

Pug took the opportunity to move next
to Tomas. The horses were panting and shivering as perspiration
steamed off them in the cold. Tomas managed a feeble smile, but said
nothing.

Men moved quickly among the horses,
checking for injury. In a few minutes the skirmishers returned at a
run. Panting, one said, “Lord, they are close behind, fifty,
sixty at least.”

“How long?”

The man stood with perspiration pouring
down his face as he answered, “Five minutes, my lord.”
With grim humor he said, “The two we killed will make them
pause, but no more time than that.”

Borric said to the company, “We
rest a moment, then we ride.”

Arutha said, “A moment or an
hour, what does it matter? The horses are done. We should stand
before more Brothers come to the call.”

Borric shook his head. “I must
get through to Erland. He must know of the coming of the Tsurani.”

An arrow, quickly followed by a second,
flew from the nearby trees, and another rider fell. Borric shouted,
“Ride!”

They cantered the exhausted horses
deeper into the woods, then slowed to a walk, while they kept watch
for the coming attack. The Duke used hand signals to deploy the line
of soldiers so they might swing to either flank and charge on
command. Horses blew foam as their nostrils distended, and Pug knew
they were close to dropping.

“Why don’t they attack?”
whispered Tomas.

“I don’t know,”
answered Pug. “They just harry us from the sides and behind.”

The Duke raised his hand and the column
halted. No sounds of pursuit could be heard. He turned and spoke in a
low tone. “They may have lost us. Pass the word to inspect your
mounts—” An arrow sped past his head, missing him by
inches “Forward!” he shouted, and they began a ragged
trot along the path they had been following.

Gardan snouted, “My lord, it
seems they wish us to keep moving.”

In a harsh whisper Borric swore, then
asked, “Kulgan, which way lies east?”

The magician closed his eyes again, and
Pug knew he was tiring himself with this particular spell. Not
difficult if one was standing calmly, it had to be fatiguing him
under these conditions. Kulgan’s eyes opened and he pointed to
the right. The column was heading northward.

Arutha said, “Again they slowly
turn us, Father, back into their main strength.”

Raising his voice, Borric said, “Only
fools or children would keep to this route. On my command, wheel to
the right and charge.” He waited as every man readied weapons
and made silent prayers to their gods that the horses could withstand
one more gallop. Then the Duke shouted, “Now!” As a body,
the column wheeled to the right, and riders spurred their flagging
mounts. Arrows came pouring from the trees, and men and horses
screamed.

Pug ducked under a branch, desperately
holding on to the reins while he fumbled with sword and shield. He
felt the shield slipping and, as he struggled with it, sensed his
horse slowing. He couldn’t exercise the needed control over the
animal and manage the weapons at the same time.

Pug reined in, risking a momentary stop
to put his equipment right. A noise made him look to the right.
Standing less than five yards away was a bowman of the Brotherhood of
the Dark Path. Pug stayed rooted for a moment, as did the bowman. Pug
was struck by his resemblance to the Elf Prince, Calin. There was
little to distinguish the two races, nearly the same in height and
build, save hair and eyes. The creature’s bowstring had
snapped, and he stood with dark eyes fixed upon Pug while calmly
setting about restnnging his bow.

Pug’s astonishment at finding the
Dark Brother standing so close to him momentarily caused him to
forget the reason he had halted. He sat numbly watching the bowman
repairing his weapon, entranced by the dark elf’s coolly
efficient manner.

Then he was pulling an arrow from his
quiver in a fluid motion and fitting the shaft to the bowstring.
Sudden alarm made Pug act. His staggering horse answered his frantic
kicks and was off again. He didn’t see the bowman’s
arrow, but heard and felt it speed past his ear, then he was back to
a gallop, the bowman lost behind as Pug overtook the Duke’s
company.

Noise from ahead made Pug urge his
horse on, though the poor animal was giving every indication it was
moving as fast as possible. Pug wove through the forest, the gloom
making it difficult to negotiate.

Abruptly he was behind a rider wearing
the Duke’s colors and then passing the man as Pug’s horse
proved fresher for carrying a lighter rider. The terrain became more
hilly, and Pug wondered if they were entering the foothills of the
Grey Towers.

A horse’s scream caused Pug to
glance behind. He saw the soldier he had passed thrown as his mount
collapsed, foaming blood spurting from the animal’s nose. Pug
and another rider halted, and the soldier turned back, riding over to
where the first man stood. He extended his hand to offer the fallen
man a double ride. The fallen soldier just shook his head, as he
struck the standing horse on the rump, sending it ahead again. Pug
knew the second man’s horse could barely carry one rider, never
two. The fallen rider pulled his sword and put down the injured
horse, then turned to wait for the pursuing Dark Brothers. Pug found
his eyes tearing as he contemplated the man’s courage. The
other soldier shouted something over his shoulder that was lost to
the boy, then suddenly he was riding by. He shouted, “Move,
Squire!”

Pug put heels to the sides of his
horse, and the animal picked up a staggering trot.

The fleeing column continued on its
stumbling, exhausted flight, Pug moving up through the company of
riders to a place near the Duke. After a few minutes Lord Borric
signaled for them to slow. They entered another clearing. Borric
surveyed his company. A look of helpless rage crossed his face, to be
replaced by surprise. He held his hand aloft, and the riders stopped
their milling about. Shouts sounded in the forest, but from some
distance away.

Arutha, eyes wide with wonder, said,
“Have we lost them?”

Slowly the Duke nodded, his attention
focused on the distant shouts. “For the moment. When we broke
through the archers, we must have slipped behind their pursuit.
They’ll discover that fact shortly and double back. We have
ten, fifteen minutes at best.” He looked over his ragged
company. “If only we could find a place to hide.”

Kulgan moved his staggering horse
alongside the Duke “My lord, I might have a solution, though it
is risky and might prove fatal.”

Borric said, “No more fatal than
waiting for them to come for us. What is your plan?”

“I have an amulet, which can
control weather I had planned to save it against possible storms at
sea, for its use is limited. I may be able to mask our whereabouts
with it. Let every man gather his horse at the far end of the
clearing, near that outcropping of rock. Have them silence the
animals.”

Borric ordered it done, and the animals
were moved to the opposite end of the clearing. Reassuring hands
gentled exhausted and excited horses, quieting the mounts after their
long flight.

They had gathered at the highest end of
a narrow clearing, their backs to an outcropping of granite that rose
overhead like a grey fist. On three sides the ground sloped away
gently. Kulgan began to walk along the perimeter of the compact
company.

He chanted in a low voice, waving the
amulet in an intricate pattern Slowly the grey afternoon light faded,
and a mist began to gather around him. At first only light wisps
appeared nearby, then other, more substantial patches of moisture
formed, becoming light fog.

Soon the air between the Duke’s
company and the tree line grew hazy. Kulgan moved more quickly and
the fog deepened, filling the clearing with whiteness, moving outward
from the magician into the trees on all sides. Within a few minutes
it was impossible to see beyond a few yards.

On and on paced Kulgan, sending thicker
blankets of haze to obscure the already grey light in the trees. The
clearing slowly became darker as the gloomy fog deepened with every
incantation made by the magician.

Then Kulgan stopped and turned to the
Duke, whispering, “All must remain quiet. Should the dark elves
wander blindly into the fog, the sloping terrain will, I hope, guide
them past on one side or the other as they come around the rocks. But
let no man move. Any sound will defeat us.”

Each man nodded, understanding the
danger coming fast. They would stand in the center of this deep fog
in the hope the Dark Brothers would walk past, putting the Duke and
his men once more behind them. It was an all-or-nothing gambit, for
should they win free, there was a good chance they would be far
removed from this spot when the Brotherhood once more backtracked.

Pug looked at Tomas and whispered,
“It’s a good thing it’s rocky here, else we’d
leave some pretty tracks.”

Tomas nodded, too frightened to speak.
A nearby guard motioned for Pug to be silent, and the young Squire
nodded.

Gardan and several guards, with the
Duke and Arutha, took up position near the front of the company,
weapons ready should the ploy fail Shouts grew louder as the Dark
Brotherhood returned along their trail. Kulgan stood near the Duke,
enchanting quietly, gathering more mist around him, then sending it
forth. Pug knew the mist would be expanding rapidly, shrouding a
continuously larger area as long as Kulgan continued to meant. Every
extra minute would encompass more of the Green Heart in fog, making
it increasingly more difficult for the attackers to find them.

Pug felt wetness on his cheek and
looked up. Snow was beginning to fall With apprehension he looked to
the mist, to see if the newly arriving snow was affecting it. He
watched a tense minute, then silently sighed with relief, for if
anything, the snow was adding to the masking effects of the fog.

A soft footfall could be heard nearby.
Pug froze, as did every man near him. A voice rang out in the
Brotherhood’s strange language.

Pug felt an itch between his shoulders,
but refused to move, fighting to ignore the nagging sensation on his
back. He glanced sideways at Tomas. Tomas stood stock-still, his hand
on his horse’s muzzle, looking like a statue in the haze. Like
every other remaining horse, Tomas’s mount knew the hand upon
his face was a command for quiet.

Another voice rang out in the mist, and
Pug nearly jumped. It sounded as if the caller were standing directly
in front of him. Again the answering call came, sounding farther
away.

Gardan stood directly before Pug, who
saw the sergeant’s back twitch. Gardan slowly knelt, silently
laying his sword and shield on the ground. He rose up, still moving
slowly, pulling his belt knife. Then suddenly he stepped into the
mist, his movements as quick and fluid as a cat disappearing into the
night. There was a faint sound, and Gardan reappeared.

Before him struggled the form of a Dark
Brother, one of Gardan’s huge black hands clamped tightly over
the creature’s mouth. The other arm was choking its throat. Pug
could see the sergeant couldn’t risk letting go for the brief
instant needed to plunge the knife in its back Gardan gritted his
teeth in pain as the creature raked the sergeant’s arm with
clawlike nails. Its eyes bulged as it fought to breathe. Gardan stood
rooted to the spot, holding the Dark Brother off the ground by main
force as it struggled to get free. The creature’s face turned
red, then purple, as Gardan choked the life from it. Blood from the
creature’s raking nails flowed freely down Gardan’s arm;
but the powerful soldier barely moved at all. Then the Dark Brother
went limp, and Gardan gave it a final, throat-crushing jerk of his
arm and let the creature slide silently to the ground.

Gardan’s eyes were wide with
exertion, and he panted quietly as he regained his breath. Slowly he
turned, knelt, and replaced his knife. Recovering his sword and
shield, he stood, resuming his watch in the mist.

Pug felt nothing but awe and admiration
for the sergeant, but like the others he could only silently watch.
Time passed, and the voices grew more faint as they sounded their
angry inquiries to one another, seeking the fugitives’ hiding
place. The voices moved off, and then, like a long sigh of relief
heaved by all in the clearing, it was silent. The Duke whispered,
“They are past us. Lead the horses. We go east.”

Pug looked about in the gloom. Ahead,
Duke Borric and Prince Arutha led the way. Gardan stayed beside
Kulgan, who was still exhausted from his magical undertaking. Tomas
walked silently beside his friend. Of the fifty guardsmen who had set
out with the Duke from Crydee, thirteen remained. Only six horses had
survived the day. As they had faltered, the others had been quickly
put down by silent, tight-lipped riders.