The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (108 page)

He locked eyes with Yaron. “C’mon. The sooner we’re there, the sooner we can get started.” He surged forward without waiting for an answer.

Yaron gathered the reins of the empty sled and hurried to catch up. “What about the beasts?”

Valthar. Shaggy-grey and three-horned, they stalked the lower slopes in packs. Yonach snorted. “Don’ tell me yer afraid of a few valthar.”

“If the temperature falls, the murghal could descend from the pikes.”

“When did y’ever see murghal at this low of an altitude?”

“Well there have been—rumours. Some say that the Rime Slayers are becomin’ bolder, driven by hunger t’extend their range.”

“Ya spend too much time in the taverns listenin’ t’ the tales o’ old women.”

The two fur-clad figures trudged steadily up the snowy slope. Finally, the younger one spoke up once again. “Ever face down a murghal, Yonach?”

“Sure. One time I wrestled a dozen of ’em wi’ nothin’ but ma bare hands.”

“Liar.”

Yonach laughed heartily.

A moment later they crested a wide ridge. An ice field spread out before them like an immense, pure white cloak. Far off, the ground rose steeply once again towards the snow-covered sierras. A threatening stain of dark cloud, like smoke from night’s chimney, rolled down inexorably from the higher slopes.

Yonach stared out across the ice, straining his eyes for any aberration—any dark spot on the smooth white surface. Nightly, streaks across the heavens heralded new falls of lodestone ore. Meteorites that could not normally be distinguished against any other landscape were readily visible out here on the open glacier.

Yaron dropped the reins and joined his brother at the edge of the flat expanse. “See anythin’?”

“There—an’ there.” Yonach indicated two tiny dots on the smooth surface. They were some distance apart—there might not be enough time to reach both locations before the weather closed in.

Yaron pointed off to the right. “What about that one?”

Yonach peered out across the ice. He could just about make out a faint smudge—more distant than the first two, but larger. A lot larger. He made the decision. “C’mon. Gotta hurry.” He set off across the ice.

Yaron hurried to catch up once again. “We could just note its position an’ come back later.”

“An’ let Tugen steal it from under our noses? Not likely.”

“Have ya seen his new sled? It’s electrically powered. They say he can even ride on it.”

The rival hunter’s mission in life was to taunt and humiliate the two brothers. Of course, it was all under the guise of friendly competition, but Yonach was more astute than that. He strongly suspected that Tugen was trying to paint them as outdated, perhaps with the idea of getting the Directorate to revoke their license. He doubted that the Directorate would actually do such a thing, but still... “There’s more t’ being a hunter than havin’ a fancy machine. A lot more.” He glanced behind and saw that the lad was nodding, but whether out of conviction or loyalty it was hard to say. Yonach forged ahead with renewed determination.
There’s no way I’m losin’ out t’ Tugen.

The sky darkened. The distant form on the ice grew larger. A squall buffeted them from all sides. A find as large as this could be difficult for two people to manhandle onto the sled. There was not much time.

The wind quickened into a blizzard, hurling snow into Yonach’s eyes, obscuring his vision. They were nearly on top of the dark shape before he finally realised that it was not a meteorite at all.

It was a body.

~

All thoughts of triumph and avarice fled as Yonach knelt beside the motionless form. The figure was short, clad in thick Kelanni furs and lying face down. Beside it, partly covered by snow, was what looked like a weapon—silver with odd protuberances, not unlike the electrolaser that the drach carried.
But what would drach be doing in these mountains?

“’oo is it?” Yaron asked.

Yonach smiled inwardly. Why did younger brothers automatically think their elder siblings had the answers to every question in the world? “Let’s see, shall we?” He placed one hand on a shoulder and another on an arm and pulled gently. The body was heavy. He heaved and slowly it rolled over.

Yaron gasped. “Wh... what is it?” The features were encrusted with frost, but the complexion was still too pallid to be natural. Worse still, the lower part of the face was covered with a thick growth of hair.

“It’s a ’u-man,” Yonach answered. Thirty and more turns ago he had been the younger brother when war with the hu-mans broke out. By the time it was over, his older brother Seig was dead. Yaron had not yet been born, so to him, Seig was a name—nothing more. But to Yonach it was a loss that had blighted his youth.

Snow was gusting all around them. Yonach ignored the queasiness in his stomach and touched the creature’s face. It was as cold as the glacial ice. He brushed away the snow settling on the cheeks and facial hair and forced open one eye before placing a hand over the mouth. “’e’s alive,” he declared.

Yaron’s voice sounded from behind. “How can a ’u-man be ’ere? They was all sent far away across the sea—to Helice.”

Yonach ignored him. Time enough for questions later. “’elp me get ’im on the sled.” Yonach grabbed his shoulders and Yaron picked him up by the feet. Together, they half lifted, half dragged the unconscious bulk onto their transport. Yonach grabbed the odd-looking weapon and laid it next to the body on the sled.

A distant growl. Another. A third, blending and rising together towards a crescendo.

“It’s them,”
the boy cried in alarm.

Yonach’s mind froze in horror.
Murghal.
Yaron had been right after all. Maybe he should have spent more time in taverns listening to those rumours. His head darted around, trying to place the direction from which the sounds were coming, but he could see nothing but the driving snow.

“C’mon.” Yonach grabbed the reins and motioned for his brother to do the same. He checked the compass, then hauled on the sled and began dragging it back in the direction they had come. Yaron matched his efforts, gritting his teeth and straining on the rope. Their boots slipped as they struggled to find purchase. After an age, the sled began moving across the glacier. The runners bit into the ice under their heavy burden.

Yonach ignored the wind that whipped at his face and the snowflakes that were doing their best to blind him and pushed onward. The bestial sounds were growing closer.
Closer.
He hazarded a glance over his shoulder but still couldn’t make out anything.

Yaron shouted something over the howling gale.

“What?”

“We ’ave to leave the sled. Make a run fer it,” the boy yelled.

It made sense. Unencumbered, they would probably be able to outpace the murghal, but weighed down as they were... He was risking their lives for what? A hu-man?

An uneasy peace had existed between the two races for the past thirty turns or more, but no Kelanni was under any illusions. Hu-mans were dangerous and violent. And they were the enemy.

Yet despite all of that—despite even the loss of Seig—something deep within Yonach would not allow him to abandon anyone to those foul creatures. Even a hu-man. “No. This ’u-man ’as questions to answer. I wanna know ’oo ’e is and what ’e’s doin’ ’ere. And we ’ave to know if others of ’is kind ’ave travelled ’ere from the island.”

“But Yonach.” He could hear panic rising in the boy’s voice. Guttural sounds were coming from all directions now. In moments, the murghal would be on them. They had nothing—no weapon with which to fend off the beasts.
Weapon.

Yonach dropped the reins, allowing the sled to skid to a stop.

Yaron, too, released the rope and grabbed his older brother by the arm. “Let’s get out of ’ere.”

“’old on a dahn.” Yonach reached down and picked up the silver tube lying next to the body on the sled. There were a variety of controls at one end—buttons, levers and switches. He had never seen a drach weapon close up, let alone fired one. In any case, the hu-man version might be quite different.

“Whatcha doin’ wi’ that?” Yaron demanded.

Yonach had no real idea. Before he could answer, he heard Yaron cry out. A monstrous figure, ice clinging to tangled fur, shuffled into view. A tooth-filled maw occupied the place where its head should have been. Four slender arms probed the air, seeking any source of heat.

Two more creatures appeared, ambling forward. Yonach levelled the strange weapon at the oncoming monstrosities. Their bass growling scraped like a steel rasp at the edge of his consciousness. He pushed and pulled frantically at the various control mechanisms. Another of the shaggy creatures appeared behind them, a dull rattle emanating from deep within its throat.

“Yonach.”
The boy had backed up to the sled, cowering, eyes wide, one arm raised protectively.

Suddenly, a blinding golden light burst from the bulbous end of the weapon. Yonach jerked back more from shock than recoil, and the searing bolt passed over the heads of the oncoming beasts.

The beam cut off without warning. The creatures were still advancing through the whirling snow. One of the controls he had been fiddling with had activated it.
But which one?
The small red lever. Yonach gripped the silver tube and pulled the lever firmly with his finger.

Lightning shot forth from the weapon once more, hitting the lead murghal’s body dead centre. The creature stopped in its tracks and shuddered. Keeping the spring-loaded trigger depressed, Yonach swept the beam left and right, bringing the beasts on either side to a halt; then swung around and fired the beam at the monster coming at them from behind.

A stench of ozone mixed with burning fur filled the air. Yonach’s throat constricted, and he coughed instinctively before gritting his teeth and firing again. The growling grew higher in pitch, turning to screams as the creatures started to back away. He continued firing until the rabid beasts disappeared back into the snowstorm. Slowly, he realised that he was still pulling the trigger, but there was no longer any response from

the weapon. Broken or out of power—he couldn’t tell.

Yaron stared at his older brother. “That was amazin’. What is that?”

“I wish I knew.” Yonach tried to peer through the blizzard. “There could be more murghal around ’ere. We need t’ get off this mountain.” He gestured for Yaron to take up the reins once more.

“If we meet any more o’ them, ya can just turn that thing on ’em again, right Yonach?”

“I wouldn’ count on it.”

They took up the strain once more, and the sled lurched into motion. The ground began to tip forward—they had reached the edge of the ice field and were moving back down the incline. At the foot of the mountain, their avionic waited patiently, safe from crevasses, avalanches, and the many other perils of the Cathgorns. If the blizzard was still blowing when they reached the flying machine, it might be too dangerous to lift off for a while. They might have to take refuge in the cockpit and wait for a break in the weather.

When they finally took to the air, the comatose hu-man would have to ride in the hold, where their haul of lodestone ore would normally be carried. Yonach could only imagine what Coreall would say when he returned with such peculiar cargo. He half debated whether it might be wise to send Yaron in first to break the news to his wife. Facing the murghal again might prove to be less hazardous.

“Nnnngghh.”
A low moan came from behind. Yonach called a halt and knelt down next to the sled. Snow whipped about them in flurries. The hu-man was stirring.

“’oo are you?” Yonach demanded.

The creature gave no sign of having heard him.

“’oo are you?”

The mouth opened and breathed, “McCann... my name is McCann.” The eyes opened a crack, and the pale weathered face screwed up. “Not you people again...”

Yonach let the comment pass. “What were y’ doin’ on this mountain?”

McCann turned over. “Go to hell.”

Yonach had no idea where ‘hell’ was, or why he would want them to go there. Another mystery to solve. He shucked off his back pack, pulled out a blanket, and threw it over the semi-conscious form. “Maybe later. First of all, you’ll ’ave t’ meet my wife.”