Keep on the Borderlands

5

The next night, at full dark, a party of twenty-four stood on the high east wall of the inner bailey. Thirteen of these wore dark, thick, hooded cloaks and carried packs of various sizes, as well as filled water skins, swords, and other weaponry. All but one wore armor of some kind, and Mead carried a sturdy leather shoulder bag that held his book of spells. Ten men in the dark blue of the Keep, Captain Mebros directing them, worked to secure five lengths of thick rope. The knots were checked twice, then five of the men descended to hold the lengths taut. Mardiak, the castellan’s sorcerer, stood back from the edge, watching the men’s efforts as he cast a spell to detect danger around the base of the cliff. A charm dangling from his right fist had already been used on the ropes and the knots.

Lets us save Mead’s spells for later, Jerdren thought. Chances were, they’d need all the spells the elf had, once they were out there.

The party had been blessed just before sundown by the Keep’s curate—a man as influential and important in his own sphere as the castellan in his. Jerdren, squatting on his heels atop the walls, didn’t feel any different for Xyneg’s blessing but had long since decided it couldn’t hurt anything. Most of the Keep armsmen going with them seemed more relaxed for having been blessed, anyway. His right hand jittered against his leg—not so much nerves, he thought, as eagerness to be on their way. The first of their men were already down, the second group—including Eddis and the elves—was on its way. The last of the Keep guards next, with more rope for the rest of the way down, and then he and the last of their party would finally be on the move.

He reached the narrow ledge without incident a short time later. To either side, he could just make out the shapes of men working to secure rope while others dropped carefully down the ledge. The meadow below was kept clear all the way to the forest, and it had been watched from the walls until well after sundown. According to Mebros, that didn’t leave time for anyone but a horseman at a flat-out run to cover open ground between woods and cliff. If anyone were to be down there, Jerdren told himself, we’d all welcome the fight. That would settle my stomach properly.

He could make out the nearest people in the gloom. Blor had already gone down, but there was Eddis and behind her one of the elves. Willow, he reminded himself. He and Eddis had worked out order of descent and order of travel back in the tavern. Blor and three of the Keep men were their most keen-eyed or sharp-eared men, and Mead went with them, a charm swinging from his neck. Eddis and her two men were among those who’d follow, while he, Willow, and the rest would bring up the rear.

He and Eddis had decided that earlier as well, comparing skills and reflexes as impassively as if neither were actively involved in this, and he grinned, recalling the bemused look on his brother’s face at the time. In blunt fact, Eddis’ eyes were somewhat better than his in the dark, her reactions perhaps a hair faster, and she was younger than he by nearly ten years, which would count both on the ropes and down there in the dark.

Truth is, he told himself gloomily as the first five moved quietly out of sight, you don’t like heights, Jers. Too bad M’Baddah’s idea for leaving the Keep in secret had been such a good one. At least it was too dark for him to see the drop beneath his feet. Yah. You got enough of an eyeful of the drop from up on the walls. He was still willing to wager that Eddis thought he’d been admiring the supposedly extraordinary view from the walls, rather than trying first to work past the fear—and then looking for the quickest and least distressing way down.

Willow tugged at his sleeve, indicated the ledge with a jerk of his head. Jerdren drew on his new, thick gloves, took hold of the rope held out for him, wrapped a heavy length around his forearm in case his gloved hands couldn’t hold his body up, and edged his way over the edge of the cliff, where he could clamp the rough hank between his legs.

Somehow, his hands and legs remembered how to get him down a rope—and it didn’t take nearly as long as he’d thought it might. Everything moved smoothly, even when his feet lost contact with the stone, and he swung loose over a drop for a heart-stopping moment. All at once, he could see dark shapes below him and felt Blor’s familiar grip on his leg. Thumb and forefinger first, to let him know it was his kinsman, before the entire hand grabbed hold to guide him to safety. His boots touched ground a moment later, last of the five in his final group. He freed the rope from numbed calves, stepped back, tugged twice, and felt a responding tug before the knotted length began to slide smoothly upward.

It was very quiet where they stood. They were sheltered from the wind here, or it had died away. Jerdren could hear the slither of rope against stone, and someone high above quietly urged his men to haul the hanks in. Somewhere to the north an owl wailed, the sound rapidly fading as the predator flew away from them. The air brushing the left side of his face felt chill and damp: water that way, and something began a monotonous, soft creaking. Frog or insects, Jerdren thought. Likely where the water was.

The sky directly overhead was a blaze of stars, cut off to the west by the bulk of the Keep and to north and east by tall trees and rising ground. No sign of the moon down here. It wouldn’t rise for at least an hour, and it was still short of half-full. They’d have plenty of darkness to get themselves out of the open and well into the woods for what was left of the night.

It wasn’t actually completely dark where they stood, Jerdren realized. His eyes were finally adjusting. He could make out the difference between pale expanses of grass, darker bushes, and stubby trees. Then he noticed individual faces, with the company so close around him. He stripped off the heavy leather gloves and stowed them as Eddis edged over.

“Mead’s checked already,” she said, “there’s no one and nothing close by.”

“Good. We’ll move out, then, in order,” Jerdren said, as quietly, and stepped aside to let the others go ahead. He’d take up the rear with two of the older Keep soldiers who’d hunted these lands with Lord Macsen himself. Both had excellent ears. Willow took the lead, M’Baddah on his right hand. The rest moved out behind those two.

The company reached the nearest trees without incident. It wasn’t any darker in the woods than it had been on the meadow, and Jerdren’s eyes had adjusted well enough to the gloom that he easily made out Eddis holding up a hand to signal a brief halt while Willow and M’Baddah went ahead a few paces. Mead bent over his charm, caught his breath sharply as the thing glowed a dull red against his hand. That can’t be a good sign, Jerdren thought, and reached for his sword as the mage hissed a warning. With a yell, half a dozen men leaped from the trees into their midst, and more came running from their right flank.

Jerdren drew his sword and parried an overhead blow. Somewhere ahead of him, someone cried out in pain, and he could hear Eddis cursing in a flat voice. A moment later, he went down hard, breath driven from him as a man landed squarely on his shoulders, but the fellow was thrown as he fell. He drew one of his daggers and dragged himself partway up, feeling the ground before him. A boot there—a ragged pant leg that didn’t belong to any of his people. The cloth tore from his grip, but he had the man now: the pale face just there, which meant the body was… He swung the dagger in a slashing arc and buried it in flabby flesh. The man shocked, shuddered, and went limp. Jerdren retrieved the blade, wiped it on the dead man’s shirt, and got warily to his feet.

Just to his right, one of the Keep men was driving back another of the invaders with a spear, and he could hear Blorys’ voice not far away. Someone else yelled, and all at once the ambush dissolved, men running wildly toward the meadow, some going north over open ground and the rest south.

“I’m making a light,” M’Baddah said, and a moment later a partly shuttered lantern cast a ruddy, dim glow over them.

“What damage?” Eddis asked as she came back toward the edge of the woods. Her sword was bloody, and there was a cut on the back of her hand.

“Winded,” Jerdren replied shortly. “Blor?”

“Fine, Brother. We have one man down here, badly wounded—no,” he said quietly. “One dead.”

“Three of them dead and another stunned,” Willow reported. He bent over the half-conscious man. M’Baddah was helping one of the Keep men bandage a nasty cut on another’s forearm.

“Make it four of them dead,” Jerdren replied grimly and retrieved his sword. He gazed down at the man he’d killed. Skinny, ragged… the fellow looked as badly off as any of those men they’d fought on the road, days before, but Jerdren didn’t recognize him as one of them. He walked from man to man, checking that all his company was still here. One down already, he thought. But they were fortunate no more of them had been killed. A sudden attack like that, in the dark, men could easily have killed their fellows and not the enemy.

He was pleased to see that three of the men were keeping watch, that M’Whan stood at the edge of the woods to make sure the fleeing men kept running. He followed Mead over to where Willow had the stunned man sitting up.

Jerdren smiled down at him—it wasn’t a nice smile. “So,” he mused aloud. “Were you waiting for us? Just happened to be here, saw us coming, and decided we looked like a good source of supplies and weapons? Or expecting us?”

The man bit his lip, but when Willow drew a long, slender blade, he shuddered, and the words tumbled from him.

“We been here a while, out of sight of those walls. There’s rabbits and such here, but it’s getting colder at night. Hard to find game. We heard there were men, hereabouts, they’d take good fighters. But—” he forced his eyes from the blade and the set face behind it—“but we couldn’t find ’em. Just now, we were arguing which way to go, some of us wanted to just… get out. And our watchman saw you coming. Seemed worth a try, maybe get a warm cloak, bread….”

“He’s telling the truth,” Mead said evenly.

“What do we do with him, then?” one of the Keep men asked.

“I have an idea,” another snarled, and the man huddled in on himself.

Jerdren shook his head. “You—if you’re smart, you’ll try to catch up with your friends before something gets you. Go fast enough, and go now, and I won’t make you pay for our wounded and dead.”

Willow hauled him to his feet. The man gazed fearfully from elf to elf, met Jerdren’s eyes briefly, then turned and bolted.

“All right, people, we’d better get moving. M’Baddah, I guess there’s no sense in dowsing your light. Move out ahead with it, and someone get another one going back here at the rear.”

They pulled the dead enemy out to the edge of the woods, while two of the Keep men heaped leaves and pine needles over their fallen comrade. Moments later, they set out once again, with just enough light to let them walk through open forest at a decent pace. A short ways in, one of the Keep men located a deer path he knew, and they turned roughly southeast, walking at a stead pace until moonrise.

Jerdren called a halt for the night just as the moon cast pale light through the highest branches of tall oaks. They’d reached the first of the marked clearings on his map. He’d have preferred to reach the second, but two of the men had lost blood and needed the rest. There was a narrow stream here, nearly dry this late in the season, but it had enough running water to allow them to refill their bottles.

Watches had already been chosen before they left the Keep, and this deep in the trees, the air was warm and still, so they built no fire. Jerdren lay back in his cloak as the first watch settled into place. At the elves’ suggestion, they had been left from the regular watches for the present, but one or the other was to be roused at once if anyone thought they saw or sensed anything suspicious, since both could see much farther in the dark than the humans.

Not that it’s so dark now, Jerdren thought sleepily. It was the last thing he remembered until Blorys woke him. It was cooler than it had been, especially near the stream, and moonlight now came from the west. Jerdren checked that his sword wasn’t shoved too tightly in its sheath, that his two daggers were ready to throw, and hung his strung bow from the hook on the quiver before moving several long steps out into the woods. He slowly paced around the dark camp and the sleepers, occasionally coming upon the two Keep men who shared his watch.

The moon was nearly down and the woods shadowy once more when he woke M’Whan, unstrung his bow, and lay back down. He was asleep in moments and didn’t wake until sun warmed the small clearing.

He woke sluggishly and a little stiff, the way he always did, first day on the road. Didn’t used to, did you? he asked himself sourly. Getting old, Jers, aren’t you? It didn’t help that they were traveling afoot; he’d merely traded a sore backside for aching legs. He cleared his throat and spat, staggering to his feet.

To his relief, Eddis was already up and about, and showed no signs of the bleary-eyed, irritable woman who’d broken fast at the inn two days before. At the moment, she was sitting cross-legged on her blankets, plaiting her hair. Beyond her, Willow was bent over, nearly folded in half as his long-fingered hands massaged his calves.

Guess I’m not the only stiff one this first morning, Jerdren thought. If a young elf had sore legs—and Willow was a year or so short of thirty, according to Eddis—then he, Jerdren, was doing all right.

Mead leaned against a tree a short ways off, his heavy leather-bound spell book open, his lips moving silently now and again. Memorizing the spells he thinks he might need for the day, Jerdren told himself. Let’s hope that if we do have need, he’s made the right choices.

Blor and one of the Keep men were keeping watch, the others eating or checking their weapons. M’Baddah was rubbing salve into the arm of their most seriously wounded man, and Jerdren was glad to see the man’s color was good this morning. We can’t afford to start losing men before we ever find that camp, he thought. First day out, and one already gone.

Their cook came over and handed him a cold meat pie—the taverner’s wife’s gift to the company, but they wouldn’t stay fresh for long. Jerdren took his with a smile of thanks and ate it quickly.

Eddis pulled one from her own pack and bit into it. No onions, Jerdren knew. Though how anyone could live without onions, let alone those crispy, toasted brown bits…

None of his business, he reminded himself as he sucked gravy from his fingers, washed that down with flat ale and a swallow of water, then pulled a tart, crisp apple from his own bag of provisions. He finished that as Eddis, M’Baddah and Blorys came over to join him for a look at the map, and a quick conference.

Jerdren unfolded the heavily detailed parchment. “Now, we’re about—here, right?” He indicated a point well into thick woods. The East Road had taken a bend south and was at the farthest point from them.

Eddis shook her head. “There are four streams shown between the Keep and that point. We crossed one dry bed and stopped the night at this one. Makes two, Jers.”

“Dry being the proper word,” Jerdren replied evenly. He wasn’t used to having his skill with maps questioned. “We could’ve crossed dry, flat beds without knowing it, in the dark.”

“M’Baddah would have known,” Eddis countered. “I would have.” She indicated a point halfway between the Keep and his finger. “I’d say we’re nearer here.”

“It is easy to settle,” M’Baddah put in smoothly as the two co-captains eyed each other narrowly. “Ask one of your hunters. If he isn’t certain, we can always send someone up a tall tree. If you are correct, Eddis, the road will be visible. If not…”

“I don’t believe it matters,” Jerdren said as the outlander hesitated. “But by all means, if we’ve someone good at trees.”

“No point in risking a broken leg this early on,” Eddis replied mildly. The tension between the two was gone. “We came straight east last night. We’re going north today, aren’t we?”

“Toward that hilltop,” Jerdren agreed, his finger moving to tap at the indicated height.

“At worst, we’ll need to angle a little east or west to make it. Though I’m still not sure why we want that hill. Map shows it covered in old forest, Jers. What d’you think we’ll see from there?”

“Well, we probably won’t see much,” Jerdren said as he shoved stones aside and re-rolled his map, folded it twice, and stuffed it into his pack. “Thing is, we should be able to hear things. I grew up in hilly, wooded country, and sound carries in hilly, forested land. If there is a camp over a day’s worth from the Keep, I doubt the men who’ve set it up will bother to be quiet, especially if they don’t know we’re out here. If they’re within an hour or so of that hilltop, we should hear them. If the lines on this map are correct, or close to it, for how the land rises and falls—well, we can very likely tell where the sound is coming from.”

Eddis gave him a cold look and got to her feet. “I didn’t ask for a lecture, Jerdren, and I’m not a dim-witted child. Next time just tell me.” She strode off and knelt to stuff her loose belongings into her pack.

“She’s right, Brother,” Blorys said finally. “She’s not a child or a fool. Don’t treat her like one.”

M’Baddah had already quietly moved away.

Jerdren watched his brother go and cast up his eyes. Here I thought fighting a camp of robbers was going to be the hard part. He made sure the map was tucked firmly into his pack, got up and stretched hard, fingers digging at the small of his back.

They moved on soon after, angling north and a little east through ancient trees. There was little undergrowth here, and only an occasional ray of sun came all the way down to touch the needle-cushioned ground. More light reached them at midday, when they took a break, sharing around a skin of wine and one of water while their provisioner and cook handed out flat bread, cheese, spicy, jerked venison, and dried apple slices. The rest of the day was as quiet as the first half, and they made the top of the hill just before sundown.

The trees were an odd mix, here. Massive oaks with thick branches set far apart, as if the hill had once been a nobleman’s park. In and around these, scrub oaks, fir and other trees twice as tall as the tallest of them, and thin. Spine-brush and other weedy undergrowth was everywhere.

There had been no water all afternoon. No pools, not even a dry stream bed, and as the ground rose, the dirt grew harder underfoot. Mead, who was still in the middle of the company, glanced at Jerdren once or twice and finally dropped back to join him.

“There is something wrong here,” the elf said quietly.

“Wrong?” Jerdren stopped, sent his gaze around the woods, tested the air with his nose, then simply closed his eyes and felt. No unusual sound, but no lack of sound, either. He could hear birds high in the branches, small creatures rustling through the lower brush. Nothing that would have warned the boy Jers to back away and run for it. He finally opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Excuse me please, but I’ve never before worked with a magi—a mage. Or an elf. Perhaps we’re not using wrong in the same way. I’m at home in a hilly wood, and there’s nothing here to make me wary. You?”

Mead was standing very still, head cocked. He shook his head. “I am not certain what it is. My spell revealed nothing. Just—if we stay in this area for the night…”

Jers considered this, then shrugged and started walking again. The rest of the company was a ways ahead, and Eddis glanced back. He waved her on.

“We should have about one more hour of walking, mostly uphill. Once we’re there, we’ll talk again, Mead. If there’s danger about, we’d be fools to camp in the midst of it.”

The mage merely nodded.

They reached the brow of the hill well before sunset. There was little brush here, but the trees were closer together and smaller. Most of the Keep men were already sitting as Jerdren came up, rummaging through their packs for water and dry wafers, while others gathered firewood. M’Baddah and his son were keeping watch. Blorys knelt to cut a hole in the springy grass for the fire. Eddis just dropped her pack and was waiting as her co-captain joined them.

“Nothing much to see here, Jers, and all I’ve heard so far is the noise we’re making. Which isn’t much.”

“It’s enough,” he said and bit back irritation that was at least half caused by tired legs and feet. “We’ll listen once everyone’s settled in. But you and I had better listen to Mead, first.” He repeated the earlier conversation.

Eddis frowned at her fingers, then looked around for the mage.

The elf had moved away from the rest of the party and now stood with his hands against the bole of a massive oak, eyes closed, fingers exploring the rough bark. Willow eyed his half-brother anxiously, then came over to join Eddis and Jerdren.

“He said he told you, Jerdren. He still can’t be specific about the threat, just that there’s something. He’s concerned enough that he won’t be sleeping tonight.”

“If… we were to keep going, farther north maybe, or back the way we came?” Eddis asked. “There’s at least an hour of daylight left, but we could keep going after dark with lanterns again.”

The elf shrugged. “He’s had the sense for most of the afternoon. Whatever is bothering him, I doubt we could get far enough away from it before dark, but he still says there isn’t anything close by that’s any threat.” Willow tipped his head back to gaze high into the trees. “The last time he had a feeling like this, we were attacked by an owlbear. Nasty creatures, and hard to kill. But there’s plenty of deer and small game tracks here. You wouldn’t see any, if it was an owlbear.”

“We’ve got trackers,” Jerdren said. “Men or—or whatever’s around—has to leave prints.”

Eddis waved an arm, taking in the land sloping down and away from them on all sides. “On this? There hasn’t been rain in a long time. The ground’s hard.” She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All the same, you’re right. I’ll get a couple of these men to keep watch and let M’Baddah and M’Whan take a look while we’re getting settled in. And I say we keep the fire going tonight,” she added. “All night.”

“I was going to say as much,” Jerdren replied.

Eddis merely nodded and went off to talk to her lieutenant.

Thin, high clouds began to move in as their cook got a fire going and began kneading dough for bread. Wind sighed through the high branches, though little reached the camp. Willow found a small, bubbling pool down the north side of the hill, so there was water for soup and washing. The meal was eaten in shifts, with four on guard around the hilltop at all times. Mead ate on his feet, wandering in and out of the trees, often stopping to listen.

Willow, Blorys, and Eddis took turns at listening also. The only nearby sounds were wind, and the crackle of fire, and now and again small birds high overhead.

Later, when Jerdren went down to the spring, a squirrel ran off chattering through the branches, and moments later the unmistakable bounding thumps of a deer crashing through the undergrowth brought him up short. He closed his eyes briefly as the deer moved out of hearing. Odd, he thought. There still wasn’t anything that would have warned Lim to run for it or at least keep a wary eye out. Still, he’d have expected more squirrels, possibly birds lower in the branches and not just high in the firs. He climbed back to the camp, dipped his cup in the pot of tea, and got comfortable.

“If there’s a camp anywhere hereabouts, we’d’ve heard something. I didn’t, and more to the point, neither did Blor or Willow. So I’m thinking,” he added with a glance at Eddis, “that we turn back south tomorrow and angle off toward the east.”

She shrugged, sipped steaming liquid, then turned to look for Mead. The mage was leaning back against the great oak, staring up into its branches.

Willow stirred. “I’d like that. If there’s no one out here, then we’re wasting time and supplies looking.” He shook out his folding leather cup, dipped up a fresh cup of tea, and carried it over to his half-brother.

Jerdren looked at Eddis again, then around the campfire at each of the men there.

“All right. We’ll move out at first light. Some of you gather more wood, enough to keep that thing going all night. Make sure one of you’s watching while the other gathers branches.” His eyes strayed toward the now pacing mage. “He’ll be on watch the entire night, but we’ll keep four men on at all times. Blor, you take someone and bring back water for the morning.”

“Better do it now,” Eddis added. “Once it’s dark, a spring like that could draw all kinds of predators.”

He knows that, Eddis, Jerdren thought tiredly. His brother merely smiled, caught up the empty pot, and took one of the spearmen with him.

The sun was gone from sight, muffled in cloud. There would be no moon until nearly dawn, and the night was very dark. Four at a time kept watch, with one making sure the fire stayed going. Mead walked quietly around the circle of sleepers, or leaned against the oak, his fingers exploring the bark and his eyes troubled.

Eddis came awake at M’Baddah’s light touch and sat up, shoving wisps of hair out of her face. The air was cool and still. Disorienting, she thought. I thought it was autumn, and me back home again. She’d half expected to see the familiar old bed she’d shared with her sisters, and beyond the narrow window opening, the family vegetable garden. Here instead was a campfire and ruddy light on tree trunks, flickering shadows cast by trees and branches, and armed men who moved quietly around the hilltop.

It wasn’t her favorite sight. She’d grown fairly used to woods and the way a campfire made them look, but firelight hid more than it showed, and just now she could imagine all manner of things just out of sight. Don’t imagine, she ordered herself flatly and rubbed her eyes.

“Quiet so far,” M’Baddah whispered.

Eddis nodded and sat cross-legged to string her bow, then looked around. M’Whan squatted by the fire, cup in hand, and two of the Keep men were moving out into the night as two others came in and rolled in their blankets for a few more hours of sleep. Most of the men around the fire were merely dark, blanketed lumps, but Blorys was directly across from her, a shock of red hair spilling over his face. Eddis gathered up her bow and three arrows, making sure the rest weren’t bound together in the quiver the way they sometimes got, and walked away from the light.

Mead was there, pacing around the great oak. If he saw her, he made no sign. Eddis hesitated, then went on. Better not to distract the mage, though his behavior worried her. She hesitated again just off the brow of the hill. Thin fingers of firelight flickered on a pale-barked tree, but it was otherwise dark out here. Once her eyes adjusted, she’d be able to see as well as anyone but an elf. Just don’t trip on something and break your neck, Eddis, she thought. One thing for certain: Any bandits sneaking up on them might see the fire, but they’d see no better than she did, and she’d hear them coming. Every few steps she stopped, but there wasn’t anything to hear. Hope that means the other three are being as cautious as I am and not that they aren’t moving. Or that something got—

She broke that thought immediately. This wasn’t the place to think about “things” getting anyone.

Back the other direction, then. She could make out more of her surroundings this time—like the line of heavy, dry brush on her left that anyone or anything would have to crash through to reach the camp from the west.

She reached the end of the brush and was ready to turn back when Mead’s yell of alarm reached her, and, from the sounds of things, immediately roused the camp. Someone was bellowing orders up there—Jerdren? But another voice topped his—a rough one that didn’t belong to any of their men. She tightened her grip on the bow, shifted the arrows to the same hand and, with her free hand outstretched to keep her from running headfirst into trees, clambered back up the hill as fast as she dared.

The camp looked like utter chaos, with half-wakened men scrambling from their blankets to snatch up the weapons they’d left at hand, and others charging across the open ground to protect them from the half-dozen massive brutes who came striding up from the south. They carried ugly spears and two-handed swords, and she realized with a shock that none of them were human. Jerdren and M’Baddah stood shoulder to shoulder, swords ready, just behind three of the Keep men who braced their spears against the ground. Blorys and Willow were firing arrows as quickly as they could, and as Eddis hesitated at the edge of the clearing, one of the hulking creatures howled and staggered away, two arrows protruding from its thick neck.

Mead stood with his back to the fire, halfway between it and the vast oak, staring up into darkness. Eddis looked in horror as a bloody Keep man fell from the lowest branches and lay unmoving at the mage’s feet. As she set an arrow to her string and started toward Mead, the elf mage waved her back.

“No closer,” he shouted. “It’s a lion!”

Eddis swallowed sudden dread and backed away, eyes fixed on the tree. She was dimly aware of the fighting behind her—men crying out in pain, a clash of swords, and the bellowing of wounded enemy. There. Gods! Twice her height above the ground, she could make out see the green glow of narrowed eyes reflecting firelight. Then M’Baddah had her by the arm, dragging her away toward the fire that their cook was working hard to build up.

“Three of the monsters are dead,” her lieutenant told her. He almost had to shout to be heard above the melee. “The others won’t last much longer. Stay back from that tree, my Eddis. The beast came without warning and snatched him up before any of us could react!”

He knelt to wrap moss around one of the long branches, tied it in place, and poured a dollop of lamp oil over it. He turned away to look over the fighting as Eddis swallowed dread. The cat’s eyes seemed to hold hers. Willow moved past her, bloody sword in one hand, and took up a position not far behind his half-brother.

Jerdren’s excited voice rose above the clamor of fighting. “That’s got ’em, men! One more of ’em bleeding and—sure enough, there they go! No, stay put!” he ordered sharply. “No point in giving ’em cause to turn in the dark out there and come against us. We’ll clean up, wait for daybreak, and move out. Willow, where’d that brute of a cat come from?”

Light flared from Mead’s outstretched hands, illuminating the oak and its occupant: A tawny, cream and black cat at least as long as Eddis was tall spat and snarled in fury from its perch.

“It should run from light,” she whispered. Why isn’t it running? Why, for that matter, had it attacked a lighted camp?

The beast vaulted onto a higher branch and edged out over the mage, ears slowly going flat. Mead fell back a pace and began another muttered spell. M’Baddah thrust one of his fresh-made torches into the fire and handed the spluttering branch to Eddis. When he started across open ground toward the oak with another, Willow held up a hand.

“Stay where you are! It has already killed one man, and you cannot reach it with that anyway.”

“It’s not showing proper fear of fire or light,” Blorys said. “It just pounced, caught that man by the throat, shook him, and started dragging him into the tree. That’s not natural!”

“Arrow!” one of the Keep men called out. Eddis ducked down as an arrow sang over her head and buried itself deep in the branch just in front of the massive cat. The beast snarled and snapped it with a slap of one massive paw, but stayed where it was.

“Don’t flush it down here!” Jerdren ordered sharply. “It’s already killed once! If we can scare it off—!”

“And how do you plan on that?” Eddis demanded.

M’Baddah handed his torch to one of the spearmen, strung his bow, and fished out one of his arrows with a thickness just behind the point. He held that in the fire until it caught, took careful aim, and fired, just as sparks exploded upward from Mead’s outstretched hands. The arrow just missed the cat, but Mead’s spell didn’t. Eddis smelled burned hair. The cat screamed, half-spun on its branch, and leaped for the ground. It was a long blur of gold and black, flying across the clearing, then it was gone. They heard it squalling, well to the north, then nothing.