Hand of the Hunter

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Darric woke to the sound of ravens cawing. He opened his eyes. It was still full dark. The embers of their fire cast the faintest glow into their little hovel. Mandan was already sitting up, the other two men stirring… and Hweilan nowhere in sight. After talking most of the afternoon and well into the evening, she had stoked the fire, wrapped herself in her cloak, and been the first to sleep. But she and all her belongings were gone.

"What's that racket?" said Valsun, sitting up and blinking.

Jaden stretched but stayed in his blankets. "Sounds like the ravens who shared our supper."

"Ravens aren't night birds," said Mandan. "Something's riled them."

The branches around the nearest entrance rattled, but before any of them could so much as reach for a weapon, Hweilan came back inside.

"We're leaving," she said. She was wearing a full pack, a knife sheathed at her belt, another tucked into one boot, and her bow in hand.

"What's wrong?" Jaden asked.

"Company on the way," she said. "Stoke the fire and throw on the rest of the wood, then get moving." With that, she turned and was gone.

"Why burn the wood?" Jaden asked as he climbed into his cloak and began gathering his few possessions.

"The fire," said Darric as he threw on the wood and stirred the coals back to life. "It might distract whoever is coming long enough for us to get away."

"Who is coming?" said Jaden.

"You're in the Giantspires, son," said Valsun as he followed Hweilan. "Whoever it is, it can't be good."

Darric and the others followed.

Hweilan led them up the same saddle of the mountain to where Darric and Mandan had found her that afternoon. Only they went in the dark, no light but that of the stars and moon, and a hard wind coming down off the mountain that made the already frigid air deadly. They had just made the level height where Hweilan had found Darric and Mandan when Jaden fell and did not get up again.

Hweilan kept going, headed for the crevice in the cliff.

Darric tried to pull Jaden to his feet, but to no avail. The man sat there, huddled inside his cloak and shivering.

"Up, Jaden. Now."

"Let me die here," he said. "I'll go back to the fire. Better a quick death in battle than freezing to death."

"He's right, my lord," said Valsun, who had turned back to help. He too was huddled in his cloak and shivering. "We need a defensible shelter. No use running if the cold kills us."

Darric could no longer feel his face, and his feet and hands felt hard and brittle. His layers of clothing had kept out the worst of the cold so far, but he could feel it seeping in already, and they'd only been outdoors a short while. He knew his men were right.

Jaden looked up to where Hweilan was already disappearing inside the crack in the cliff. "I miss the wizard," he said. "Could always count on him for a fire."

Mandan looked to Darric. "What do we do?"

Darric thought only a moment, then called out, "Hweilan! Hweilan, stop!"

She rushed back to them, her movements stiff, the whites of her eyes shining with fury, even in the dark.

"Are you mad? Why not just blow a horn if you want to tell everyone within a mile where we are?"

Darric held her gaze. How could she not be freezing?

"This won't work. We need a defensible shelter out of the wind-and a small fire at the least."

"You want to die?" she said. "You go back to the fire and-"

"And if we don't, the cold will kill us anyway."

She cursed under her breath, turned-and stopped. Darric knew she was giving serious consideration to leaving them. Then she shook herself, tucked the bow under one arm, and began rummaging inside the large pouch on her hip.

"What's she doing?" said Jaden.

Hweilan tossed something into his lap. "Don't eat it," she said. "Just chew and swallow the juice."

She gave each of the others a small dark lump, longer than it was wide and slightly pliable.

"What is it?" said Valsun.

"Kanishta root," she said. "Start chewing, then keep up. You fall behind and you're on your own."

Jaden was the first to plop the root in his mouth and start chewing. His jaw worked a few times, he froze a moment, then began coughing.

"Agh! That's foul beyond… beyond…" Another chew, a swallow, then very eager chewing. "Oh, that's heavenly. I take it back. Stuff and stiff the wizard, this is magical."

He hopped to his feet as the others began chewing. Darric almost gagged. It tasted like roasted garden soil. No, worse. ItAnd then the warmth hit him. His entire head flushed, filling with heat, as if someone had emptied a bucket of steaming water over his head, for it spread all the way down, making even the tips of his toes and fingers tingle.

"Better?" said Hweilan. "Then move. Now."

The men hurried off after Hweilan, who had already disappeared through the crack in the cliffside.

It proved to be more than a cave entrance. Beyond was a tunnel, leading up through the rock, albeit not very far. Through a very tight squeeze-Mandan barely managed it-they emerged on a higher level of the mountain saddle. The wind hit them full force, but with the kanishta root's juices flowing through them, the cold no longer had much bite. Still, on the ice-slick path, it made for very treacherous going, and the men often slipped, slid, and fell as they rushed to keep up with Hweilan. But keep up they did. Darric discovered that the kanishta root not only filled his body with warmth, but with vigor-at first with such a rush that his hands shook. But Hweilan set a brutal pace, leading them ever higher into the mountains, and Darric found himself using every bit of energy the root gave him.

The eastern sky was lightening when their path finally leveled out somewhat. It was still hard going, but Darric no longer felt as if they were climbing more than walking. The mountain's peak rose on their left, its snow-covered heights gleaming in the moonlight. But Darric soon lost sight of it as their path plunged into a tree-choked ravine.

Hweilan slowed, and by the way she constantly looked around, Darric could see she was agitated.

He caught up to her and whispered, "What is it?"

"Listen."

Everyone stopped. At first Darric could hear nothing beyond the sound of the men's labored breathing. Then he caught it, just on the very edge of his hearing-a plaintive yip-yip.

Darric could tell by the way Mandan's posture had stiffened and he looked at the woods with widened eyes that he had heard it too-probably better than any of them.

"What?" said Jaden.

"The wolf," said Mandan.

"Uncle," said Hweilan.

"The wolf?" said Valsun. "What…?"

Hweilan unhitched the bone mask from where it rode on her belt. She fitted it to her face, and for just an instant, Darric thought he saw a tiny sparkle of green play along the edges of the runes burned into it. Hweilan's eyes, seen through the bone, seemed suddenly feral.

"What?" said Darric, at the same time he heard Jaden mutter, "Oh, this can't be good."

She took the bow off her back, strung it, and fitted an arrow to the string. "Your men know how to use those weapons?" she said.

Darric nodded. "Yes."

"Then look like it."

"You mean-?"

"I mean," she said, raising her voice just enough for everyone to hear, "get a weapon in your hand. And stay by me. This place is no good."

With that, she turned and set off at a jog.

"No good?" said Jaden, taking off after her. "No good for what?"

Mandan hefted his club and slapped it into his other hand. "What do you think?"

What started as a jog soon fell into a run, and despite the invigorating kanishta root, the men in their heavy clothes and mail struggled to keep up. The sky was growing brighter all the time, but gloom still ruled under the trees, and Darric often lost sight of Hweilan. But he kept his men on the path and urged them on until catching sight of her again.

The path ran into a cliff face, its bottom strewn with house-sized boulders and choked with thick brush. The pines ran right up against it, standing amidst the boulders, their branches tickling the cliffside. To their right, brush clogged a steep slope for a few dozen paces before falling away to nothingness, and on their left, the forest continued up the slope of the mountain. Darric caught sight of the peak between the boughs.

Darric stopped and looked around as the others gathered behind him. There was no sign of Hweilan.

Jaden bent over, hands on knees. He was breathing so hard that he accidentally spat out the gobby mess of kanishta root. He cursed, picked it up, and after wiping off the worst of the dirt and grit, plopped it back into his mouth.

"Where's… our lady… friend… got off… to?" he said between gasps.

Mandan was breathing heavily as well, but he stood straight, his head held back, his nostrils flaring as he took deep drafts of the breeze off the mountain. "We have bigger problems."

Jaden said, "What?"

"I smell-"

And then a gale hit them. Darric heard the howl of it coming down the mountain an instant before it struck, snapping branches from trees and raising a wave of pine needles off the ground that swept over them, stinging exposed skin and forcing Darric to close his eyes. His cloak caught the wind like a sail, and he had to fight to keep his feet. That's when he heard them.

Voices in the wind-hoots and cries, and mixed with it all a gleeful cackling. Shielding his eyes with one hand, Darric squinted against the cloud of pine needles and grit. A dozen or more figures were charging up the path behind them. Ugly scraps of black-iron armor covered clothes made of hide and pelts. The bits of hair that protruded from their helmets was so coarse and thick that it seemed more like fur, and their narrow eyes drank in every bit of dim dawnlight and cast it back, like a dog's eyes. Most of the figures held iron-shod spears more than twice the height of their wielders. Hobgoblins. Bigger and meaner than their goblin cousins, Darric knew that even with Mandan in full rage they'd stand no chance against so many.

"Run!" Mandan roared, and pushed Darric up the path.

"Move-move-move!" Darric said, and got the men moving, Mandan bringing up the rear. If they could make it to the cliff, at least they could keep their backs against the rock and fight only on one front.

The wind came back around again, slapping Darric's cloak against his legs. He stumbled, but Mandan caught him and kept him going.

Valsun, several paces ahead, was passing between two boulders when Darric saw it-something moving up from the ground. His first thought was it was a snake, but then he saw" Valsun!"

But it was too late. Running full speed, Valsun's shins struck the tight cord, and he went down. From behind the boulders, two hobgoblins leaped over the path, crossing in midair and pulling the rope in a tight loop. Valsun managed to shake one leg free before the cord tightened, but his right boot caught. The hobgoblins didn't even spare the others a glance. They turned and ran, dragging Valsun behind them.

Enemies behind and before, Jaden stood dumbstruck.

"Move, you fool!" Darric said as he passed Jaden. He rounded the largest of the boulders where Valsun had disappeared, then he too skidded to a stop.

Valsun lay on his back against another boulder, his sword on the ground well out of reach, his two captors standing over him, the points of their swords at his throat. But in front of Darric was the biggest goblin he had ever seen-had ever heard of. He had all the typical goblin features-coarse, bristly hair, pointed ears that stood out from its head, a scarce bump of a nose between two slit eyes; he wore only rudimentary clothing-but he was easily eight feet tall, most of it muscle. Arms wide, the monster lunged.

Darric ducked and swiped with his sword. He didn't put full force into the blow, fearing Jaden or Mandan might be coming up behind him, and the blade only sliced a narrow gash along the back of the creature's helmet-sized hand.

And then the hobgoblins were all around-rising from behind boulders, jumping down from thick boughs where they'd been hiding. Those charging up the path hadn't been attacking. They'd been driving Darric and his men into the real attack, and it had worked perfectly.

The giant goblin grinned and made another quick swipe at Darric. Again Darric struck, but the monster was ready for it this time and pulled away laughing.

Behind him, Mandan roared and Darric could hear his club cutting through the air. Jaden was screaming. Darric kept the point of his blade raised at the monster as he turned sideways and risked a quick glance. Mandan stood between the two boulders where Valsun tripped. Swinging his club, he was holding back a half-dozen goblins. One of them lunged with a spear and the club struck, shattering the shaft and sending its wielder reeling back.

Beyond Mandan, Jaden lay on his belly, a cackling hobgoblin straddling his legs and beating him with a cudgel while two others tried to pry the cleaverlike sword from his grip.

That quick glance cost Darric his advantage. He felt something strike his knee hard, then pull. Turning back around, Darric planted both feet and looked down. One of the hobgoblins had come in with a long pole, a wide, blunt crook on one end, and he had Darric's leg quite nicely hooked.

The hobgoblin pulled, and Darric stumbled. He struck at the pole with his sword, but the shaft was thick ash wood. He put a good nick in it, but nothing more. He used his free hand to grab the loop of the hook and pull. With such poor leverage, he knew he'd never pull it off, but if he could just hold it steady long enough to step outA tight grip closed over his sword arm. The huge goblin had his sword arm in one bony fist. The monster grinned and yanked. Darric lost his footing and went down. The hook of the pole slid up his waist and caught in his belt. But he kept the grip on his sword. Screaming, Darric thrashed and kicked, but the monster's grip only tightened.

"Hoy!" a voice called, and Darric looked up into the face of a hobgoblin, who had stepped forward. He held a curved sword but seemed in no rush to use it. "Drop that steel or Grunter here'll snap your arm like twig."

The huge goblin grunted as if to confirm his name, then gave a tug and a twist as if to drive the point home.

Darric thrashed harder. He managed to bring one foot around and drive the toe of his boot into Grunter's knee. It was like kicking an oak.

Grunter smiled, revealing tusk-yellow teeth. "Tickles," he said, and grunted again.

The hobgoblin with the sword shrugged and said, "Break it."

Grunter grabbed Darric's arm with his other fist, both tightened" Well done! That will be quite enough!"

The voice spoke elegantly accented Damaran, and the wind twisting through the field of boulders seemed to carry it. It was firm, confident, but no shout, though it carried to every ear.

The wind died, and a strange silence settled on the scene. Grunter's grip on Darric's arm did not lessen, but neither did it move. Darric had no doubt the brute could do just what the other had claimed-snap his arm like a twig. He risked another glance at his comrades. Valsun's position had not improved. Jaden was weaponless, had two grinning hobgoblins on his back and one standing on each arm. Mandan still held his club in one hand. The shattered remains of one of the hookpoles dangled from his waist, and two cords of braided leather were tangled around his left arm-the other ends held tight by four hobgoblins. Darric could see their wide yellow eyes through the slits in their helmets. They were obviously torn between trying to pull Mandan over and the thought of pulling him too close. Just behind them, another hobgoblin leaned against a rock, moaning and cradling his shattered forearm.

"Everyone just calm down."

A figure emerged from the forest-taller than every person gathered except for Mandan and Grunter, but he moved with the grace of a dancer. A long cloak and deep cowl hid his features. He stopped just behind the nearest goblin.

The cowl faced Darric. The voice had a mocking tone that seemed altogether at odds with the present situation. "Quite enough excitement for so early in the morning, don't you think?"

Darric goggled, no idea what to say. But he did take the opportunity to regain his feet and wrench the hookpole away. Grunter's grip tightened slightly, causing Darric to wince. He still held his sword, but he could no longer feel the hand gripping it.

"Easy there, Grunter," said the cloaked man. "We're just talking. For the moment."

"Who are you and what is the meaning of this?" Darric asked him.

"Where is she?"

Darric blinked, taken aback by the question, then said, "Where is who?"

A tense silence followed, and Darric could feel a heavy gaze from inside the cowl weighing him. "Her pet has been trailing my friends for miles," the man said. "I know she is nearby."

"Then you know more than I," said Darric. "On my father's name, I do not know where she is."

"Seeing as how I don't know your father, that oath holds little weight for me."

Mandan growled and yanked on the cords tangling his left arm. Those holding it stumbled but kept their feet. Standing atop the boulder in front of Mandan, a hobgoblin loosed his bowstring, and an instant later Mandan's club sprouted an arrow.

"Calm yourself," said the man.

Mandan kept his place, but Darric saw his hair bristling and the muscles in his face had tensed so much that his skin looked like a tightly bound drum. If this went much further, there'd be no controlling him. Keeping Mandan in check when he was afraid was hard enough. But when he went beyond fear and into a true rage…

The cloaked man chuckled, then said, "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Truth be told, I have no interest in any of you. But I am most eager to speak to the lady."

"And who are you?"

"I'll ask only once more," the man said. "Then I'm going to tell Grunter there to snap your arm. Urdu and Oluk over there will start poking holes in the old man. The little one who makes so much noise they'll save for later fun. Your big and bristly friend will start sprouting arrows, and then… well, and after that, do you really care?" All mockery left the man's tone. His voice went hard and solemn, and he said, "Where is she?"

"I told you I don't know."

A long silence. Darric and Mandan exchanged a glance.

"Would you tell me if you did?" said the cloaked man.

Darric told the truth. "No."

"Very well," the man said, his voice all false regret. Then he raised it to a shout. "Razor Heart! Have your-"

"Stop!"

Everyone looked up.

The cliff was not an unbroken face. Ledges and cracks riddled its side where years of ice and tenacious roots had broken through the rock. A few dozen feet over them, two figures emerged on the ledge, one moving very stiffly.

The foremost was a hobgoblin, his helmet gone, blood leaking from his mouth, his left eye swollen shut. His hands were unbound, empty, and he held both out. Even from the distance, Darric could see they were trembling. Standing behind him, another figure held a fistful of the hobgoblin's hair in one hand and a naked blade under his throat. As she stepped into the growing light, Darric recognized the fearsome bone mask.

She called down to the cloaked man, "This fellow says he's your second, and war chief of the Razor Heart clan. If your war chief is this easy, the rest of you shouldn't be much of a problem. Let these four idiots go. I'll release your chief and you can all skulk off."

The cloaked man was staring up at her, obviously considering. He shrugged and said, "I don't skulk. You kill the chief and your friends will join him."

"They aren't my friends," said Hweilan.

And then Darric heard the growling. Everyone else did too, for every eye turned to look behind the cloaked man. The wolf stood only a few paces beyond the hem of his cloak, its hackles raised and trembling, its black lips pulled back over fangs longer than arrowheads.

"You'll join them as well," Hweilan told the cloaked man. "You can all sit on the rim of the Abyss and argue over whose fault it is while I go off to breakfast."

The man looked back up at Hweilan, then faced his men. "Oh bells of the Hells, this isn't going how I planned at all. Let them go."

The hobgoblins cried out in protest.

"Oh, calm down the lot of you. They aren't going anywhere. Hweilan would never leave an old friend behind. Besides, she's deep in debt to me."

"And who are you?" she called down.

The man lowered his cowl and pushed his cloak back over his shoulders. He held no weapon that Darric could see. His armor was very fine-finer than any Darric had ever seen, in fact-a breastplate, spaulders, and tassets made of many layers of fitted metal, that still managed a silvery sheen despite the layer of dust. He wore no gloves against the cold, and even his clothes seemed fitted more for elegance than warmth. He wore no helmet, and his long black hair was an unkempt mess. His features would have had an almost feminine beauty if not for his strong chin, but there was something disconcerting in the gaze. And then Darric saw it. His eyes had no pupils. An eladrin. Why in the unholy Hells was an eladrin running with a band of mountain goblins?

"My name is Menduarthis," he said for all to hear. Then he pointed up at Hweilan. "And you still owe me a kiss."