The Seeker

6

Five days, thought Torian with both fury and astonishment. Five miserable days they had traveled through this scorching, stony wasteland without a single night’s rest, and still they had not caught up with them. How the elfling and the priestess could keep up this relentless pace, encumbered as they were with the princess, was utterly beyond him. He had pushed his men as hard as it was possible to push them. The first day out, they had ridden hard and kept right on going through the night. He had been certain then that he would catch up with them the very next day, but the next day passed and still their quarry was not in sight Since then, they had paused only for short rest periods during the day and he allowed his men to sleep no more than three or four hours each night. He did not see how they could have failed to catch them by now. It simply defied belief.

The elfling and the priestess had but one kank with them. His soldier kanks were faster, but then, most of their advantage in speed had been canceled out by the difficult terrain. Still, the elfling could not have been carrying much in the way of supplies. Surely, they must have run out by now. Torian knew that elves and halflings were both well adapted to travel in the desert. The elfling would doubtless have inherited those traits. The villichi priestess had her training to see her through, but

Korahna? How could she possibly survive such an ordeal? He had half expected to come across her corpse by now.

He would not have thought that she could have survived more than a few hours in the barrens, much less five days of traveling at a forced pace. It just did not seem possible.

The sun’s rays, beating down relentlessly upon the rocks, heated them until it seemed as if the party were riding through a blacksmith’s furnace. From time to time as they rode, they would hear sharp, cracking reports, a sound that had mystified him and alarmed the mercenaries until they realized it was the sound of stones shattering from the intense heat. It seemed beyond belief that anyone could last so long in this sun-baked inferno.

His throat was parched and his lungs burned from breathing in the heated air. His lips were dry and cracked even though he moistened them constantly, and his skin seemed to feel as if it would crackle when he touched it, like the flesh of a well-roasted fowl. His men, seasoned mercenaries all, were barely able to remain astride their mounts. They were down to six, not counting himself.

The second night out, they had lost one man to a fire drake. The creature had hidden itself among the rocks, its pebbly-grained hide camouflaging it from view, and as the unfortunate man passed, the drake leapt, bringing him down from his mount and fastening its powerful fangs in his shoulder. The other kanks shied away from the creature, and crossbow bolts loosed by the other mercenaries merely glanced off the drake’s thick hide. The kanks bolted, and by the time they were able to bring the beasts back under control, the drake had disappeared, dragging its hapless victim away with it His frenzied screams faded into the distance until they were cut off abruptly.

The next day, they lost another man to an agony beetle. The creature had flown up and landed gently on his back so that he had not felt it. It crawled lightly down his cloak and underneath it to the base of his spine, where it sent out the long, fine, tendril stinger from its snout to penetrate his skin and worm its way deep into his spinal column. The deadly stinger was coated with a substance that numbed the skin so that the victim could not feel the beetle’s bite until it was too late. Once the tendril stinger was firmly embedded and wrapped around the nerve endings in the spine, the agony beetle began to live up to its name.

Its victim suddenly started to scream at the top of his lungs and claw at his back as waves of incandescent pain shot up his spine and into his brain. The creature fed on the psionic energy produced by pain, and once its stinger was inserted, removing it without killing the victim was almost impossible. The mercenary fell from his mount to land, writhing and screaming like a banshee, on the rocky ground.

The others simply stared, frightened and astonished, unable to see the source of their comrade’s torment. I was Torian who surmised what the cause must be, and he leapt down from his mount and ran over to the fallen man, drawing his knife. With one sweep of his blade, he cut away the thrashing mercenary’s cloak and saw the insect, its chitinous black shell gleaming in the sun as it clung to its victim’s spine, torturing him unimaginably. Torian and several of the others tried to hold the man down, but the pain-maddened mercenary flung them off and leapt to his feet.

The pain had driven out all rationality. He threw himself repeatedly against the boulders in a futile effort to dislodge the insect, all the while screaming horribly, and then in a desperate effort to drive out the pain, he began smashing his head against a rock. The others could only watch in horror as the rock turned red with his blood. Several of them covered their ears in an effort to shut out the man’s screams and the dull, wet, smacking sounds made as he pounded his head against the rock.

Torian snatched a crossbow from one of the other men and quickly fitted a bolt, but before he could shoot the pathetic wretch and put him out of his misery, the man fell silent and slumped to the ground, his head pounded to a gory pulp.

He had beaten out his own brains rather than suffer the agonizing torment. As the beetle detached its tendril stinger, Torian picked up a rock and smashed it, pounding away until nothing was left of the loathsome insect but a wet spot on the rocky ground.

The rest of the mercenaries had been badly unnerved by the gruesome spectacle of their comrade’s death. Coupled with the earlier death of the man killed by the drake, this loss had left them shaken. They had said nothing, but their faces had been sullen, and Torian did not need to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking. It could happen

Just as easily to any one of them, and the longer they remained in the barrens, the greater the odds were that none would make it back alive.

Torian now chose to call a brief halt to rest their kanks and feed them. He had brought along two spare riderless kanks to carry their supplies. As the men pulled even with him, he suddenly noticed that two of them were missing, and along with them, the two pack beasts.

“Where are Dankro and Livak?” Torian demanded.

The others looked around, apparently noticing for the first time that two of them were missing.

“They were bringing up the rear with the pack beasts,” one of the men said. And then his eyes grew wide as comprehension dawned. “The miserable bastards have turned back! And they have taken our supplies with them!”

The other three exchanged alarmed glances. They all knew what that meant. All their food, all their fuel for fire, and all their spare water, save for the skins they carried with them, were now gone with the deserters.

“When was the last time any of you saw them?” Torian asked.

They exchanged glances again. “This morning, after our rest break,” one of them said.

“They were right behind me when we started off,” another said. “But I never thought to turn around. After what happened with the others, we were all watching one another’s backs, and I had thought. . .” His voice trailed off as he realized that, probably for much of the day, he had been riding alone at the rear, with no one to watch his back.

“We must turn around at once and go after them,” said Rovik, the new captain.

“And lose more time?” said Torian grimly. “No. Let them fend for themselves. We will go on.”

“But, my lord, they have taken all our food and water!” Rovik protested. “We have only our own water skins, and they shall not last out the day!”

“I am aware of that,” said Torian. “My situation is no different than yours. We shall have to drink but sparingly, and make the water last as long as possible.”

“And then what?” one of the others said. “At most, we can make the water last another day or two. Then we shall all die of thirst. We must turn back! Our only chance now is to catch Dankro and Livak!”

“And how much of a head start do you think they have?” asked Torian. “None of you has seen them since this morning. They must have held back as we started off, then turned and bolted at the first opportunity. They will travel at full speed for fear of pursuit, and they shall not stop unless something out here stops them. Then the pack beasts will simply wander off, and we will be no better off than we are now. It is five days back, if we travel without rest. Our water will run out long before then.”

“Then either way, we are all dead,” one of the mercenaries said.

“Look there,” Torian said, turning and pointing toward the mountains, rising up ahead of them in the distance. “The Barrier Mountains are at most another three or four days ride. I grew up in those mountains, and know them like the back of my hand. Once there, we will find plenty of game and water. We must go forward. It is our only chance.”

“What is the use?” said the mercenary who had just spoken. “We shall merely die within a day or two’s ride of the mountains, our salvation within sight, but out of reach. It is hopeless. We are finished, Torian Your pointless, mad pursuit has killed us all. We are dead men.”

Torian drew his sword. “Dead men need no water” he said, and plunged his blade into the man’s chest. The mercenary cried out and stared at him, incredulous, then his eyes glazed over as he clutched at his wound and toppled from his mount.

Torian turned his kank to face the others, still holding the bloody sword in his hand. “Does anyone else believe there is no hope?” The others simply stared at him in stony silence. “Good. Then we can divide his water among us,” Torian said. “If we are sparing with its use, it should extend our supply another day or two. From now on, I will carry all the water and ration it out as I see fit. Any objections?”

No one spoke.

“Then it is settled,” Torian said. “Pass me your water skins. From now on, we do not stop until we reach the Barrier Mountains.”

On the fourth day of their trek across the barrens, they had run out of food. They had stretched their supply as far as possible, feeding most of it to the kank. The beast had a voracious appetite and could not survive on its honey alone.

They had been eating the honey, and there were only several globules left. The kank needed to supplement its diet with forage, and there was none in the barrens. They had fed the remain ing honey to the kank, but it was not enough.

By the fifth day the beast was starting to grow weak. But that was not the worst of it. They had also run out of water.

Ryana felt completely drained. She could only imagine how the princess must feel. Korahna had not spoken a word in hours. She merely clung weakly to Ryana, with her arms around her waist, her head lolling against her back. Ryana saw that even Sorak was showing the strain of their ordeal. At least she and Korahna had been able to sleep during their journey. They had taken turns, one of them holding the other to prevent a fall, while the kank had simply followed Sorak obediently.

Sorak had been on foot throughout their journey, and though he had ducked under to sleep while the Ranger or Screech came to the fore, their body had neither slept nor rested, save for the brief stops they made. Ryana could see by Sorak’s bearing, each time he surfaced to take over his body once again, that he felt the physical effects of his exertions. His elfling body could take far more punishment than human bodies could, but even he was tired now.

Ryana felt Korahna’s grip slipping and turned just in time to catch her as she started to fall. “Sorak!” she called out.

He stopped and turned, looking at her wearily. “Korahna has swooned,” she said. He walked back to the kank. “Let her down,” he said.

He took the princess in his arms as Ryana gently eased fer off the back of the kank, then dismounted to stand beside him as he laid her out gently on the ground.

“I never thought that she would even make it this far,” said Ryana. “I can barely stand myself.”

Sorak nodded. “It was selfish of me to bring her along,” he said. “She would have been better off with Torian.”

“She said that she would rather die,” Ryana said.

“I fear she will,” said Sorak. “She has no strength left. She has come this far on pluck alone. And that is no longer enough. She will be dead by nightfall.”

Ryana looked over her shoulder toward the mountains. “Another three or four days’ ride and we would have reached the end of this wasteland.” She sighed with resignation. “If Torian has not long since turned back, he will find only our corpses.”

“We are not dead yet,” said Sorak.

“It will be night soon,” said Ryana, looking toward the mountains. “Up ’til now, Screech has kept us safe by communing with the creatures that approach us, but Screech cannot make water out of stone. And when our bodies fail us, we shall make a fine meal for some hungry beast. It seems the Sage has merely lured us to our deaths.”

There was no reply from Sorak. She turned and saw him sitting cross-legged on the ground beside the princess, who lay motionless, her chest barely moving as she breathed weakly. She looked as if the pallor of death was already stealing over her. Sorak had his eyes closed. He breathed slowly, deeply, and regularly. Then Ryana began to feel warm.

It was a warmth that did not come from the sun, which was already sinking slowly over the horizon. It did not come from the sun-baked rocks, which still felt hot beneath her feet. It did not come from within her.It came from Sorak.

As she watched, she could see heat waves shimmering around him, and his face took on a completely different expression. It was more than merely an apparent change. His mouth, which usually looked harsh and cruel and sensual, had softened, and his lips appeared more full. His normally dour expression became beatific and serene. And when he opened his eyes and looked at her, she saw that the color of his irises had changed from dark brown to an azure blue.

“Kether,” Ryana said softly.

He reached out his hand to her. She took it and felt revitalizing warmth flowing into her. She closed her eyes as the energy surged through her arms.

Then, still holding her hand, Kether reached out and lightly placed the fingertips of his other hand on Korahna’s forehead. The princess parted her lips and breathed in deeply, uttering a soft moan.

As the princess inhaled deeply, a slight dizziness came over Ryana, and though her eyes were closed, she seemed to

“see” the interior of a library, similar to the one at the villichi temple, only much more ornate, with scrolls stored in rows of cubicles carved from polished obsidian set with hammered silver. It was, she realized, the templar library in the palace compound of the Shadow King, where Korahna had first discovered the preserver writings.

Next, she saw the streets of Nibenay at night, with beggars huddled in the doorways and bedraggled prostitutes lounging in the entrances to darkened alleys. She heard the cries of hungry infants coming from the windows up above, and she saw old women searching through the refuse in the streets for some scrap of food to eat. A profound sadness overwhelmed her, seeing the state to which these people were reduced, and she felt tears start flowing down her cheeks, though she herself was not weeping. Images whirled through her consciousness, faces in taverns as Korahna sought to make contact with the Veiled Alliance, hooded figures accosting her in some darkened room, sneaking out of the palace compound at night to attend clandestine meetings, faster and faster the memories flowed through her, and she experienced Korahna’s life in one kaleidoscopic surge of thoughts, senses, and impressions....

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended, and Ryana felt Kether’s hand release her own.

She opened her eyes and found herself flushed with perspiration, her entire body tingling. She felt lightheaded, and yet, at the same time, she was no longer tired. She still felt hungry and thirsty, but it was as if a second wind had come upon her and given her new strength. And she saw Korahna’s eyelids flicker open and heard her sharp intake of breath as she sat up and said, “I have had the most amazing dream—”

Sorak’s head was lowered to his chest, and he was breathing heavily. The warmth was gone now, though Ryana still felt its residual effects. The sun, which had started sinking over the horizon what seemed only a moment ago, had long since set. The twin moons, Ral and Guthay, cast their ghostly light upon the barrens—Sorak raised his head, his eyes still closed, and breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly.

He opened his eyes and said, “I think we can go on now.”

Ryana and the princess were staring at each other. Something incredibly profound had passed between them, and they both knew that somehow a bond had been forged that could never be broken. It suddenly felt as if they had known each other all their lives. They were like sisters, only more than sisters, for through Kether, they had shared an intimacy deeper than even most siblings could achieve.

“I do not understand what just happened,” said Korahna slowly. “It seemed like a curious dream, and yet it was not a dream, was it?”

“No,” Ryana said. “It was not a dream.”

The princess stared at Sorak. “But how . . . ?” Her voice trailed off. She could not think of how to frame the question.

“It is not something we could even begin to understand, Korahna,” Ryana told her. “We can do no more than accept it. Kether gave us strength, and more than that. Much more.”

“Kether?” said Korahna. And then she looked at Sorak and realized she knew, because Ryana had known. For the first time, she understand who and what Sorak truly was. “A tribe of one,” she whispered. It was not something she had even heard of before, but she suddenly knew what it meant.

“Sorak,” said Ryana sharply. “Look!”

A mile or so away, directly to the east, where the ground began to rise, a fire burned.

“Torian!” Korahna said. “He has circled round us!” “No,” said Sorak. “That is not the light of a campfire. There is nothing here to burn, and even if Torian had brought torches or wood to build a fire, it would not give off such light. It burns blue—then green, then blue again.”

“Like the fire of the spell scroll,” said Ryana.

“The Sage?” Korahna said.

“Is it possible that we have found his sanctuary?” asked Ryana.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “We shall know when we get there. Come, let us make haste.”

The two women mounted up, and the kank reluctantly rose and moved off to follow Sorak. The creature was tired and weak, and Ryana did not think it would be able to travel much farther. They had only a mile or so to go to reach the place where the flame burned. But what would they find when they got there?

The ground had started to rise, sloping up in stages toward the mountains, still several days’ ride distant The boulders here were larger, and there were more rock outcroppings through which they had to wind their way. Several times, they lost sight of the flame as they made slow progress toward it. Even so, they slowly but steadily drew closer, winding their way through a maze of rocky rills, almost like the walls of a fortress. In the distance, they could hear the sound of some huge creature bellowing as it made a kill... or perhaps was, itself, killed.

As they approached the flame, Ryana could see that it was certainly not a campfire, but a tall pillar of blue-green fire that seemed to sprout from solid rock.

“How can stone burn?” Korahna asked with wonder as she stared at the flame. “By magic,” said Ryana.

When they reached it, they saw it was the same sort of flame that had pointed out their way across the tablelands and the barrens—the magical flame that had been released by the spell scroll. But it could not possibly have been burning all this time, Ryana thought.

They would have seen it for miles. It seemed to sprout directly from the stone at the base of a large rock out-cropping in front of them. They were hemmed in by this same rock on three sides. The only way out was back the way they had come. Sorak stood back from the pillar of flame, staring at it.

“There is nothing here,” Ryana said, looking around. “The trail has come to a dead end.”

“If Torian finds us now, we shall be trapped,” Korahna said apprehensively. “There is no way out except the way we came.”

“We were brought here for a reason,” Sorak said.

“What?” Ryana asked. “There is nothing here.”

“We were brought here for a reason,” Sorak repeated.

“Come,” a deep, echoing voice suddenly spoke, the same voice they had heard before, directing them to Nibenay. It came from within the flame.

“Come where?” Ryana asked.

“Come,” the voice repeated once again.

Sorak stepped forward.

Ryana grabbed him by the arm. “What are you doing?”

“We must approach the flame,” said Sorak.

Ryana stared at the pillar of fire. “I am not anxious to draw any closer than this,” she said.

Sorak gently disengaged himself. “We did not come all this way to fail now,” he said. “We must do as we are bid.”

“Do not get too close,” Ryana cautioned him uneasily. Sorak stepped closer to the flame. “Come,” the voice said once more. He stepped closer, almost within arm’s reach of it. “Come,” the voice spoke, yet again.

Sorak strode forward.

“Sorak!” Ryana shouted.

He was only inches from the flame.

“Come,” said the voice.

“Sorak, no!” Ryana shouted, lunging after him.

He stepped into the flame.

Korahna cried out, bringing her hands up to her mouth. Sorak had completely disappeared from view. Ryana froze, staring wide-eyed with disbelief. And then the voice spoke again.

“Come.”

“Ryana, we must go back,” Korahna said.

Ryana simply stared mutely at the spot where Sorak had entered the fire.

“Ryana, it is too late,” Korahna said. “He is gone. We must flee this place.”

Ryana turned around to look at her. She simply shook her head.

“Ryana, please... come away.”

“No,” Ryana said. She stepped closer to the flame.

“Ryana!” The princess ran after her and seized her by the arm, trying to pull her away. “Don’t! Sorak has killed himself. There is no point to throwing your life away as well!”

“Do you feel the heat, Korahna?”

“What?”

“The heat. Do you feel the heat?”

“You shall feel it all too well if you go any closer,” said the princess. “Come away, Ryana. Please, I beg you.”

“We should be feeling it already,” said Ryana, staring at the fire. “Standing as close as we are to a flame of this size, we should be feeling the heat of it. And yet, there is no heat. Is there?”

Korahna simply stared at her.

“Is there?”

Korahna blinked. “No,” she admitted.

Ryana took her hand. “You said that you had courage,” she said. “You said that you would rather die than fail to be the mistress of your fate. The rime has come to prove those words.”

Korahna swallowed hard and shook her head as Ryana pulled her toward the flame. “No, stop! What are you doing?”

“We must follow Sorak,” said Ryana.

Korahna jerked away. “Are you mad? We shall burn, as he did!”

“How does stone burn?” Ryana said. “How does flame fail to give off heat? That is no ordinary fire, Korahna. I do not believe that it shall burn us.”

Korahna moistened her lips and swallowed hard. “Ryana ... I am afraid.”

“Sorak went into the fire—Did you hear him scream?”

“No,” said the princess, as if realizing it for the first time.

“You told me you had courage,” said Ryana. “Take my hand.”

Biting her lower lip, Korahna stretched forth her hand.

“Come,” said the voice from the flames. They stepped into the fire.

Miraculously, it felt cool. Korahna marveled as they walked through the flame. Fire was engulfing them on all sides, and yet, they did not burn. It felt almost as if they were walking through a waterfall, except they did not get wet. They stepped out into a grotto illuminated by phosphorescent rock. A greenish light permeated the rock chamber, emanating from the walls. And they heard the dripping sound of water.

“What kept you?” Sorak said.

Korahna laughed. “Water!” she said, seeing the pool at the far end of the grotto. Sorak stood beside it, water dripping from his wet hair.

“Drink your fill,” he said. “It is water from a spring that comes up through the rock.”

“But... where does it go?” Ryana asked, puzzled.

“It flows down this passageway here,” said Sorak, indicating a runnel in the shadows back toward the rear of the grotto. “There must be a cavern farther down.”

As Korahna filled their water skins, Ryana came up to stand beside Sorak and looked in the direction he was indicating. Toward the back end of the grotto, on the opposite side of the pool, there was an overhang that partially concealed a tunnel heading back farther into the rock. She could hear the trickling sound of water flowing gently down a portion of that passage. As they walked around the pool, they could see that the tunnel sloped slightly to the right.

The water bubbling up from the spring had over the years cut a channel into the rock, and there was a ledge on one side, wide enough to allow passage.

They heard scrabbling sounds behind them and turned to see that the flame covering the entrance had disappeared and the kank had come up to the opening, where some plants grew up out of the rock, their roots sustained by the moisture in the grotto.

“Well, at least the kank shall not go hungry,” said Ryana. “We, on the other hand, still have to find food.”

“I am grateful that we have found water,” Sorak said. “I was beginning to despair of our chances. Undoubtedly, it was the Sage who led us here—”

“If Torian is still on our trail, he will have seen that fire, as well,” Ryana said.

“Yes, but it is gone now,” Sorak replied. “And without the flame to guide him, he may fail to find this place. It is well concealed.”

“I would still feel better if we were on our way after a short rest,” Ryana said.

Sorak shook his head. “No. Not yet. I do not think the only reason we were directed to this place was so that we could find water. The flame pillar that covered up the entrance to this place was a test of our resolve. There is something else here for us to find.”

Ryana looked around. “I see nothing here except the grotto.”

“There, perhaps,” said Sorak, indicating the tunnel. Korahna came up beside them as he spoke. “You are not thinking of going down there, surely?” “Why not?” There is no way of knowing what waits for us down there,” the princess said.

“There is one way,” Sorak said as he ducked beneath the overhang and started down the runnel.

“First through fire, now into a black hole,” Korahna said. She sighed. ” I cannot say this journey has lacked excitement.”

Ryana smiled. “Most of that excitement I could easily have done without,” she said. “After you, Your Highness.”

Korahna grimaced and ducked beneath the overhang to follow Sorak. They went slowly down the passage, which, like the grotto, was dimly illuminated by phosphorescent rock. The water flowed beside them in a channel as they started down a gradual incline, feeling their way along the wall of the tunnel. Ryana tried to listen for the sound of rushing water, which might indicate a sudden drop-off, but she knew that Sorak would detect any hazard long before she would. His hearing was much more acute than hers, and he saw well in the dark. The slope of the tunnel gradually increased, and they headed farther underground. The tunnel ran straight for a while, then turned and turned again. By that time, Sorak was well ahead of them.

Ryana was not sure how far they had walked when she heard him call out, “Ryana! Princess! Come quickly!”

Fearing that something may have happened, Ryana brushed her way past the princess and hurried ahead, drawing her sword. The tunnel turned sharply, and she saw light up ahead. Hearing Korahna behind her, rushing to keep up, Ryana started running. When she reached the end of the tunnel, she stopped short and gasped.

The tunnel opened out into a huge cavern, shot through with phosphorescent veins that illuminated the vast expanse as if with moonlight The water continued to flow in an undulating stream down a slope and toward the center of the cavern, where an ancient ruin stood. It was a keep, with a stone tower rising above the walls of mortared rock. The stream flowed into an underground lake, and the keep stood on an island in the center of it. To their left, an arched stone bridge spanned the waters of the lake, leading to the island.

Ryana heard the princess gasp as she came out of the tunnel behind her. “A fortress!” said Korahna. “An underground fortress! By the design, it must be thousands of years old! But... who could have built it?”

“One of the ancient races, about whom only legends exist,” Ryana said. “I have heard tales of underground cities and ruins, but I have never known of anyone who actually saw one.”

“It is said that spirits inhabit such places,” Korahna said uneasily.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “And yet, we were led here to find this place. I think we may have found the sanctuary of the Sage.”

“We shall lose ourselves forever in this maze of rock!” said Rovik.

“We shall do no such thing,” said Torian. “I have marked the way, and the trail leads through here. What is more, they cannot be more than an hour or two ahead of us, at most. This kank spoor is still fresh. They came toward that fire we saw last night.”

“But there is no fire now,” said Rovik. “Whatever it was, it has burned itself out. There is no longer a beacon to follow.”

“No, but it is almost dawn, and the trail will be easier to follow,” Torian said. “Hand me another torch.”

“That was the last one,” said Rovik. “The rest have gone with our supplies and those miserable deserters.”

“I shall deal with them when we return,” said Torian, flinging the sputtering remnants of the last torch to the ground with disgust.

“What could they have found to burn out here?” asked one of the other mercenaries.

“That was no campfire,” Torian replied. “It was much too bright a flame.”

“And did you mark how it burned blue and green?” the other mercenary said. “It was a witch fire!”

“I doubt a witch would survive out here any better than anything else,” said Torian wryly. “Doubtless it was a volcanic fire, and that was why it burned as it did.”

“A volcano?” said the mercenary with alarm. “You mean like the Smoking Crown?”

“Calm yourself,” said Torian. “If it was a volcano like the Smoking Crown, we would have seen the cone of the mountain rising up from miles away. And if it had been a full eruption, the entire sky would have glowed red. Doubtless it is but some minor fissure or a sulphur pit that occasionally belches forth some flame. We shall be safe enough.”

“As safe as any man can be in this forsaken land,” the mercenary said.

“Are one elfling and two women braver than the lot of you?” asked Torian sarcastically. “The princess has lived the pampered life of a royal aristocrat, and she has made it this far, amazingly enough. Has she more fortitude than you?”

“If she lives, perhaps she does, indeed,” the mercenary said. “More likely, she has died, and they have merely abandoned her body somewhere in all these rocks.”

“If they had, I would have seen some sign of it,” said Torian. “No, she lives. They would have no reason to bear her corpse along. And we shall come upon them soon. The chase is almost ended.”

“What will you do to the elfling when you find him?” asked the mercenary.

“I will cut him to ribbons,” Torian said, “and take his head for my trophy.”

“And the priestess? Will you kill her, as well?”

“I care not what happens to the priestess. You may have her, if you wish.”

The mercenaries smiled.