The Ruin (8 page)

The corpse tearer glared. “He persuaded me it would be more convenient to answer his questions than to destroy him, and did so without planting a seed of dementia in my mind. Do you find that amusing? Consider this, then: If I had difficulty, how will you mites fare when you come face to face with him?”

“We’re hoping to duck that,” said Will. “We just want to break the curse, not fight its master.”

“But if we have to,” said Dorn, his bastard sword naked and ready to hand in case the Hermit turned on them, “we have some of the most powerful dragons in Faerűn on our side. We’ll kill whomever we need to kill. Now, tell us what you told Sammaster.”

“Very well,” said the linnorn. “As you surmised, he wanted to know all I could tell him of the age of the dragon kings, how they conquered, reigned, and finally fell.”

“I gather,” whispered Brimstone, “you know a good deal.”

The Hermit sneered. “Of course. I was there, watching from the shadows, reveling in their downfall. For the insanity didn’t touch me. Until tonight, I never dreamed it could.’

Will cocked his head. “So you helped the elves fight your own kind? Why?”

“I help no one, and dragons are not my ‘kind.’” The Hermit paused. “Once we might have claimed one another, but their

race proved too greedy to share rulership of the world with us. The four-legs waged war against the linnorns, and at first we more than held our own. But their race was more fertile, more prolific, and over time, numbers told. They slaughtered the majority of us, and drove the rest into hiding.”

Pavel suspected he’d just heard a singularly biased explanation of the cause of the conflict. Scholar though he was, he knew little about linnorns. He doubted anyone did. But every source that mentioned the species at all alluded to their boundless capacity for hatred, perversity, and destruction. Perhaps even the tyrannical wyrms of old had found them too abominable to tolerate.

But he supposed it would accomplish nothing to challenge the Hermit’s account.

“When I lost my own realm,” the creature continued, “the event was naturally an affront to my pride, though otherwise, I scarcely cared about it. I’d already come to see my subjects—tiny, scurrying, ephemeral vermin like you—for the contemptible things they were, and could take no more satisfaction in ruling them than one of you might take in lording it over an anthill. Indeed, all those with whom I shared this plane of existence so disappointed me that I might have lost my reason, or slain myself in revulsion and despair, had I not also managed to establish an intimacy with the only entities worth knowing and honoring in all this botched, sordid excuse for a cosmos. The four-legs could steal my throne, but they couldn’t take that.”

“What ‘entities?’” Brimstone asked.

“The powers behind darkness and undeath,” the Hermit said. “The forces that casually spawn your kind as a byproduct of their true business, the way a carpenter makes shavings when he planes a board.”

Pavel felt a pang of disgust. “In other words, you became the priest of some evil deity.”

“You aren’t capable of comprehending what my words actually mean,” the Hermit said. “Pray to your own little god that you never find out.”

“I don’t care about your faith,” said Dorn. “Tell us about the coming of the Rage.”

“All right. It was delightful. It was vengeance, if only vicariously, and to this day, I regret that, dwelling alone in the barrens, I missed the beginning of it. Soon enough, though, I sensed a change in the world, and started investigating. I discovered dragons everywhere running amok, laying waste to their own dominions, slaughtering their chattels and protectors, and in their wanton, reckless bloodlust, leaving themselves vulnerable to their foes. I picked off several myself, when I had the chance.”

“You must,” said Kara, “have wondered about the cause, and tried to find out what it was.”

“Of course. I suspected the elves had unleashed some manner of curse, for of all the slave races, they possessed the most powerful magic. But if they were responsible, they’d covered their tracks well. Those I put to the question had no knowledge of it, and I couldn’t approach the enchanters, diviners, and lords who might. They stood at the heads of mighty hosts assembled to assail the drakes, and would have made no distinction between a four-legged wyrm and myself”

“Still,” said Will, “you’re clever enough that you learned something, am I right?”

“Yes, hailing. In the end, I found out the elves had raised a secret citadel high in the Novularond Mountains.”

Raryn sat up straighter. “In the midst of the Great Glacier.”

“Not then,” the Hermit said. “The ice formed thousands of years later. Still, it was a strange place for a fortress, remote

from the rest of the Tel-quessir’s holdings, and of no strategic

importance. Thus, I surmised it might have something to do

with the Rage. But I knew it would be imprudent to approach

and investigate further, and as the millennia passed, other

matters claimed my attention.”

“Until Sammaster jogged your memory,” said Will.

“Yes,” the corpse tearer said. “If I’d realized why he wanted to know—”

“You wouldn’t have told him,” said Dorn. He turned to Raryn. “This has to be the place where the old mages and priests constructed their mythal. Can we scout the site and still be back in Thentia by the Feast of the Moon?”

The dwarf nodded. “The Great Glacier’s dangerous traveling for any who weren’t born there. But follow my lead and we’ll be all right. It’s funny. I always thought I might go home again someday, but not like this.”

“You’ll have no joy of it,” the Hermit snarled, its eyes like pits of burning ink. “Venture on the ice, and you’ll meet disaster.”

The unexpected outburst shocked them all into silence. Then Taegan drawled, “I’m unclear, noble linnorn, whether you’re speaking prophecy, laying a curse on us, or simply attempting to compromise our morale. In any case, perhaps you’ve lost sight of the fact that if we fail, you’ll run mad as a pup in a hen house. Accordingly, more assistance and less menace might be in order.”

“I’ve provided what you asked and more,” the linnorn said. “Now I’ll seek my own cure, with my own resources. Be gone from my lands by midday, and never seek me again, lest you find me.” It wheeled and half stalked, half crawled away. Despite its immensity, it melted into the night almost instantly.

“Well,” said Jivex, “that last part was cheery.”

Brimstone spread his wings and departed shortly after the Hermit. Despite his own considerable store of arrogance, the vampire evidently took the corpse tearer’s command to be gone by noon seriously. That meant he needed to leave forthwith, since he couldn’t travel while the sun was in the sky.

With the night creature gone, Taegan grudgingly decided he ought to volunteer to take the first watch. Though he was every bit as weary as his companions, it was a fact of nature that elves required less rest than humans, and unlike either men or dragons, restored themselves by entering a dreamlike

Reverie. He couldn’t lapse into that state involuntarily the way an exhausted sentry of another race might accidentally fall asleep.

He passed the time, and tried to distract himself from his aches and pains, by silently laboring to turn the expedition’s most recent adventure into a diverting anecdote, with himself as chief protagonist, of course. He could use the tale to add luster to his reputation if he ever took up the thread of his old life back in Lyrabar.

He assumed he would, if he survived. He’d worked hard to achieve that existence, and relished it thereafter. Yet it was strange. He seldom missed it as much as he would have expected. His current life, its rigors and outright terrors notwithstanding, had its own satisfactions.

He didn’t even mind trekking through places like windswept, empty Narfell and these dismal, haunted hills, and that truly was peculiar, given that conditions were no less rugged than those he’d escaped by forsaking his tribe. Perhaps the difference was that then, their primitive estate had been all he had, and all he was ever supposed to have or want. But since he’d carved out his place in civilization, and could return there whenever he—

He sensed a presence, and looked around. Dorn towered over him, the yellow firelight glinting on his iron arm and half-mask, the human side of his face in shadow.

“Can’t you sleep?” Taegan asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the others. “Burns are unpleasant, as I discovered when my academy went up in flames. Fortunately, after Pavel prays for fresh spells at sunrise, he should be able to ease—”

“I have something to ask you,” the human growled. “When you cast the magic to rouse the Rage, did you know how far Kara—and Jivex—needed to fly to be out of range?”

Hearing the anger in Dorn’s harsh rumble of a voice, Taegan rose to his feet, but otherwise made sure his demeanor remained casual and relaxed. A stance that communicated his readiness to defend himself might further provoke his

companion. “I could estimate, from seeing how the spell operated in the Gray Forest, when it overwhelmed the Queen’s Bronzes but left the enemy wyrms untouched.”

“All right. But were you sure our drakes were clear before you recited the incantation?”

Taegan sighed. “I confess it: No. It wasn’t possible. The Hermit was blocking my view, and you saw how hard it was pressing me. Had I diverted my attention for even an instant, it would have killed me.”

“That means you could easily have driven Kara and Jivex insane.”

“Whereas the linnorn was about to rip them and the rest of us to shreds, which scarcely seemed preferable. I thought it time to take a chance.”

“You should have told me—” The hunter stopped. “No. Never mind. You made the right move, it all worked out, and I’m babbling like a fool.”

Taegan smiled. “Apology accepted. If I possessed a treasure like Kara, I’d be frightened of losing her as well. Though I must say, when I witness the burdens true love imposes on the smitten, I appreciate the advantages of pursuing romance as we rakes do in Lyrabar: Adore a lady for an hour or an evening, then saunter on to the next.”

Dorn grunted. “What do you make of the Hermit’s final words?”

“I wish I knew. Nexus or Firefingers might be able to take the measure of such an ancient and wicked being, but I’ll own up to something I rarely admit: I’m out of my depth. I do know we must press on to the Novularonds, no matter how appalling the weather, and no matter who tries to warn us off.”

“Right.” Dorn flashed one of his exceedingly rare grins. “A few months ago, I kept trying to quit this craziness, but there’s no escape, is there?” His usual scowl reasserted itself like a gate slamming shut. “I think I’ll try again to sleep.” He turned and limped toward Kara and their blankets.

14 Marpenoth, the Year of Rogue Dragons

As the five trotting kupuk pulled the sled toward the cluster of snow houses, the Novularond Mountains to the north and the plains and ridges of ice on every side began to blur into a blank, pale brightness. Joylin felt a pang of trepidation.

She hadn’t been afraid to sneak away to explore the abandoned village some miles from their own, even if Papa had forbidden it as too dangerous. But she hadn’t been expecting a whiteout to set in, rob her of her sense of direction, and cut her off from home.

She frowned away her misgivings. Whiteouts didn’t last forever, and as long as she stayed put until this one lifted, or until night fell and put an end to it, she wouldn’t have any trouble finding her way back. The only real problem was that it might delay her return long enough for her father to discover her

absence. But there was nothing she could do about it, so she might as well concentrate on having fun, especially if she could expect to be punished for it later on.

She whistled the command to halt.

The kupuks were massive animals with canine bodies; hairless, leathery hides; tusks resembling those of walruses; and furry, prehensile tails carried coiled atop their hindquarters. Each was bigger and far stronger than an arctic dwarf child. But they were as obedient as they were powerful, and brought the sled with its greased bone runners to a smooth stop.

Joylin hopped off the back of the conveyance and moved down the line, giving each kupuk a word of praise, a rub about the head and ears, and a scrap of caribou jerky. She then took her harpoon in hand. She doubted the village was really dangerous. Grownups worried about a lot of silly things. But she knew better than to go anywhere beyond the borders of her own settlement without a weapon.

The team whined and yapped as she moved away. They wanted to accompany her. But she couldn’t take all five lest they get in her way, and didn’t want to play favorites. She told them to hush and stay, and they subsided.

The whiteout was growing worse. The nearest house, a pair of partially buried domes with connecting tunnels, the, whole sculpted from pressed snow, was only a few yards away, and all but invisible even so. She groped her way to the low, arched entry and crawled inside.

As she moved from one dwelling to the next, she soon found reason to suspect her adventure wasn’t going to prove as thrilling as she’d hoped. Other young explorers had come before her, carving their marks on the frozen walls, and pilfering all the good souvenirs. Which suggested she wasn’t doing anything particularly daring or special after all.

Oh, well. It was still fun, and at least she was satisfying her curiosity. Maybe—

Outside, something clamored, the sound muffled and garbled by the thick walls around her. After an instant, the noise stopped as abruptly as it began.

Joylin’s first thought was that it had been the kupuk. But if something had agitated them, they wouldn’t just bark for a moment. They’d keep it up.

Unless something silenced them all just that quickly.

Her heart beating harder, she told herself that couldn’t happen. Though docile and affectionate to their masters, kupuk were ferocious in the face of most any threat. Even the biggest, hungriest bear would avoid them and look for other prey.