Straken (48 page)

They stared at the dragon in silence. The dragon stared back. In Pen’s hand, the darkwand continued to glow and its runes to dance and pulse.

“What are we going to do?” Pen asked finally.

Grianne didn’t know. She could use the wishsong’s magic, but she was afraid of the reaction she would trigger. If she didn’t kill the dragon, it would be on them in a heartbeat. Even if she did kill it, using so much magic would draw the Straken Lord to them like a beacon of firelight in darkest night. Either result would be horrendous.

She was beginning to think she wasn’t going to be given a choice in the matter when a strange, barking cough sounded from somewhere in the distance, off toward the Dragon Line. It was rough and made her think of scraping metal and of old saws cutting green wood. She flinched in spite of herself.

But the dragon sat up immediately, head swinging away from the darkwand and its glowing runes, eyes peering out toward the sound.
Several minutes passed, and no one moved. Then the sound came again, farther away this time and more to the east. The dragon’s head swung toward it, lifting alertly. It huffed, and steam poured out of its nostrils. When the sound came a third time, the dragon roared with such ferocity that Grianne and Pen dropped to their knees in shock.

Seconds later, the monster was airborne, winging away in the direction of the sound, flying off without a backwards glance.

“What happened?” Pen breathed in confusion.

Grianne shook her head. “I don’t know, but let’s not stand around talking about it.” She glanced over. “Can you do something to quiet those runes? Can you stop them from glowing? If it comes back, I don’t want the staff to help it find us.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He slipped off his cloak and wrapped it carefully about the darkwand so that the glow of the runes was hidden. “There,” he said, satisfied.

They began walking again, heading toward the mountains, changing direction just enough that they were moving more north than west. More than once, Grianne peered off into the distance in the direction the dragon had taken, but there was no sign of it. No more than a mile ahead were hills that would offer them better cover. If they hurried, they would reach the hills before the dragon decided to come looking for them.

She wondered how far it was to where they could try to get back through the Forbidding. She glanced skyward. Night was approaching.

“Pen, why do the runes continue to glow even when you’re not using the wishsong?”

He shrugged. “They just do. They were glowing that first morning when I woke and the dragon was sitting there. They respond to me in a way that doesn’t involve me telling them what to do. I’m not even sure how much control I have over them. Not much, I think.”

Odd, she thought. The magic of the wishsong did not have a history of independent response. It came only when summoned and did only what it was asked to do. Its behavior here must have something to do with Pen’s bonding with the darkwand, with the melding of two magics. In some way, the wishsong had developed the ability to activate itself, to respond to the boy’s needs even when the boy wasn’t aware of exactly what they were.

Her magic, she thought, though far more powerful than his, had never been able to do that.

They had walked until they were almost into the hills when Weka Dart reappeared, arms flailing excitedly as he sprang out from behind a stand of heavy brush.

“Did you see? Did you see?” He jumped up and down and cackled as if gone mad. “It was completely fooled! I told you I would protect you, Straken Queen! I could see what would happen if I did not act, and so I used my brain and tricked it!”

She realized he was talking about the dragon. “What did you do, Weka Dart? What was that sound?”

He shrieked with laughter. “A mating call! What better way to get its attention than to give it something more important to think about than the two of you!”

“You know how to give a dragon mating call?”

“I was Catcher for Tael Riverine a long time! I learned how to give many kinds of calls! I would have been a poor Catcher otherwise, and I was the best that ever was! Did you like it? You had no idea what it was, did you? Did it make you wonder if maybe something was dying? That’s how dragons sound when they’re in love!”

He danced about wildly, and then started away. “Hurry, come, come! We have to reach the Dragon Line by nightfall! We need to keep moving!” He wheeled back a moment. “It was good that I was close by and watching out for you, wasn’t it? I saved you both!”

Then he was off again, racing into the distance, a small, crook-limbed blur against the haze.

Grianne stared after him and thought in despair,
There must be a way
.

W
hen the battle horns sounded, Kermadec was crouched in the shadow of a half-wall atop the gatehouse where Atalan and the other Rock Trolls were hiding. He hesitated only long enough to make certain he was not mistaken about what was happening, then leapt from his place of concealment to the floor below and raced for the gatehouse door.

After leaving Trefen Morys and Bellizen, the Trolls had made it down from the parapets and found their way to the base of the north wall and the gate that Grianne had always kept open for meetings.
But the gate was closed and sealed, and Kermadec could tell at a glance that it would take too much effort and make entirely too much noise to force it. Someone had taken a good deal of time and trouble to make certain that it would not be used again. More than likely it had been discovered by Shadea and her allies after they had dispatched the Ard Rhys into the Forbidding and assumed control of the Keep. Shadea would have been quick to recognize its significance.

So for the better part of two hours, the Trolls had hidden in the gatehouse next to it, a less-than-satisfactory location given what they were now faced with doing, but one that was unlikely to be visited anytime soon. But, with the gate of choice stoutly sealed, Kermadec and his Trolls would have to breach another gate. Since the next closest gate was some distance from where they hid, there was every possibility that they would be spotted long before they reached it.

There was nothing they could do about that. The only way the Trolls were going to take Paranor was by breaching the Druid defenses from the inside. That meant seizing and holding a gate long enough for the Trolls outside the walls to get inside.

Kermadec burst through the gatehouse door. All around him, the fortress of the Druids was erupting in a frenzy of wild shouts and charging men.

“They’ve arrived,” he informed the other Trolls, putting his back to the door and facing them across the tiny, shadow-streaked room.

Atalan’s face was a mask of excitement. “Now we’ll see how strong these walls really are!” he hissed. “Let’s go!”

“Not yet.” His brother blocked his way. “Give it a moment more. Let them get to the walls and settle in place. Let them all be looking at what threatens from without so they won’t be looking at us. Then we’ll take them.”

Atalan came right up against him. “Why wait, brother? Confusion serves us better than it serves them. Delay is for cowards and weaklings. We should take them now!”

Kermadec held his ground, his gaze steady. “You are too impatient, Atalan. You rush to do everything too quickly.”

Atalan spit. “If I am too impatient, you are too cautious. You delay everything too long. Move more quickly, and we might have better success. Are we here to help the Ard Rhys or not?”

“Don’t push too hard on me,” Kermadec said softly. “And do not question my commitment to the Ard Rhys. It is not your place to do so.”

“Shhh,” Barek hissed at them. He was standing at the shuttered window, keeping watch as dozens of Gnome Hunters charged past on their way to the parapets. “You’ll be heard if you keep this up!”

The brothers faced each other a moment longer, then Atalan turned away with a shrug. “You are Maturen, Kermadec. You are leader. The responsibility for what happens here is yours. Who am I to question you?”

He slouched back to the far wall and slumped down, staring at nothing. Seething with anger and embarrassment, Kermadec turned back to the door and ignored him.

I
t was dark by the time Grianne and Pen began the climb into the Dragon Line. Shadows thrown by the skeletal trees and distant peaks draped the land. West, the light was fading from gray to black, and the twilight hush that marked the transition from day to night was retiring the creatures of one and bringing out the creatures of the other. Sounds faded as if swallowed beneath the surface of an endless sea, and the world became a place for the quick and the dead.

Grianne’s eyes roamed the landscape on a ceaseless scour, alert for things that might be hunting them. The boy walked quietly beside her. They had not seen Weka Dart since he had departed, but she felt certain he was close, watching their progress, ready to save them once more should the need arise. Or save himself, perhaps. She knew enough of the Ulk Bog to appreciate that whatever his good intentions, he would always look after himself first.

Still, it seemed petty of her to think of him that way after he had lured off the dragon. She wished she could form a better opinion of the Ulk Bog, but she was too familiar with how he managed to get through life to do so.

It seemed only moments later that Weka Dart appeared out of the black, materializing so suddenly that she almost struck out at him.

“Straken!” he hissed at her in a clear tone of reprimand. “You cannot continue in the dark! Too many things hunt at night, and even I cannot see them all! We must stop and wait for morning!”

She was anxious to reach their destination and get out of the Forbidding for good. But the urgency in his voice gave her pause. “Is it really so dangerous? We are almost there.”

“You are not as close as you think. This is a different pass than the one you took down. Best not to repeat your steps when Tael Riverine is looking for you. No, Grianne of the powerful magic, you must stop now. You and the boy. Rest here. Wait for dawn.”

So they did, taking shelter in a cluster of boulders that gave them protection on three sides and provided an overhang as well. They would take turns keeping watch, they agreed. When first light appeared, they would set out again. The remainder of the journey would take only a couple of hours.

Then, Grianne told herself once again, she would be free.

“Weka Dart,” she said after they had settled into the rocks. She could barely see him in the hazy darkness, a dim shadow hunched down to one side. Only his eyes gleamed, watchful and steady. “I have something to tell you.”

She heard Pen exhale in anticipation of what was coming. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, wondering how to put what she must say into words, and then deciding she should just say it.

“Penderrin tells me that the darkwand will not take you out of the Forbidding. It will only take him and me. No one else.”

Weka Dart snorted. “He is mistaken. Or if not mistaken, he underestimates the power of your magic. You can find a way to take me even if the staff does not wish it.”

She sighed. “I don’t think so. This is old magic, older than I am, and more powerful. The wall of the Forbidding cannot be broken by ordinary means. That is why it was so difficult for Tael Riverine to get his demon into the Four Lands. He had to work a switch to make that happen. You told me so yourself.”

“Perhaps you can switch the Moric back again in exchange for me,” he said brightly.

His enthusiasm was frustrating. “No, I can’t. I don’t know how. I don’t even know how this staff works. It responds to Pen, not to me. What matters is that the Faerie creature who told Pen about the staff was very explicit—it cannot bring anyone out of the Forbidding but us.”

Weka Dart was on his feet in an instant, arms pinwheeling. “But
you promised! You said you would take me with you if I got you out of Tael Riverine’s prisons! You said you would! Did you lie? Is it true that all Strakens lie? Even you?”

She held up her hands. “I told you that I would do what I could to help you but that I didn’t even know if I could help myself! That was what I said. It was the truth, not a lie. If Pen hadn’t come with the staff, I couldn’t escape the Forbidding, either. I would be trapped here, as well.”

“Now you won’t be, will you?” he shrieked.

“No.”

“But I will! I will!”

“Not if we can—” “You lied, you lied, you lied!”

Spitting at Penderrin, as if the situation were his fault, the Ulk Bog rushed out of the shelter, screaming invectives at both of them, and then disappeared into the night. But he was back again within minutes, trudging out of the inky black and flinging himself down where he had been sitting before. For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Grianne waited.

“Who will protect you from dragons, Grianne of the broken promises?” he whispered finally.

He said it with such sadness that it made her throat tighten in response. “There are no dragons in my world,” she answered.

“No dragons?” His head lifted from the cradle of his arms. “Well, who will protect you from the Furies, then? Or the giants, and ogres and Graumths? Who will warn you of their coming? Who will keep you from stumbling into their lairs?”

“There are no Furies, ogres, giants, or Graumths. All of those are here. They were all sent here in the time of Faerie, when the Forbidding was created.” She paused. “My world is nothing like yours, little Ulk Bog. It is a very different kind of place.”

“Are there Ulk Bogs like me?”

“No. There are no Faerie kind at all, save Elves.”

“I hate Elves,” he muttered. “Elves enslaved the Jarka Ruus.”

“Weka Dart,” she said quietly. “We will try to take you with us, just as I promised. I will keep my word. I just want you to know that I may not be able to break you free. I may not have the power to do that.”

He was silent a long time. “No Ulk Bogs?”

“No.”

He squirmed around in the dark, shifting positions, trying first one, then another, so restless that she thought there was something wrong with him. “Are you all right?”