Chapter 23 #2
The sound of hoofbeats draws my attention abruptly to my right. I cannot see in this overcast darkness, but I can feel the soul-song of a licorneir approaching. “Help!” I call. “Help us, please!”
The licorneir draws nearer until the light flickering off Diira’s body illuminates its golden hide and the face of its rider. Kildorath—his face severe and forbidding, smeared with warpaint, but still a welcome sight compared to the monsters I’ve just fled.
“Kildorath!” I cry. “Taar—the Noxaurians—They’ve taken virulium—” I can’t seem to find words to make sense of anything I want to say. My heart gallops in my breast, and all I know is that Taar needs help, now, and Kildorath is the only one here.
Kildorath turns toward the Noxaur encampment, where the sounds of battle fill the night air.
Then he looks at me again, a long, considering gaze.
When he speaks at last, it’s with careful precision in my own tongue, which I don’t remember hearing him use before.
“It is not safe for you out here, lady.”
I suppose we agree on something. “Taar—” I begin.
“My luinar would want me to escort you to safety.” He turns his licorneir’s head about, aiming into the darkness, away from the Noxaurians. “Come, follow me.”
I want to scream, to shout, to grab this man by the hair and make him get back there to help Taar and Halamar.
The two of them are so painfully outnumbered, and who knows how many more monsters joined the brawl just for the fun of it?
And these are meant to be our allies. “Please, Kildorath!” I protest.
But he rides on without looking back, and Diira falls into place behind the golden licorneir without question.
I’m sorely tempted to reach out with my gods-gift, find out whether I can compel that other beast’s obedience as I have with others of his kind before.
Could I make him carry his rider back to Taar?
Something tells me that to attempt it would be a terrible mistake.
Kildorath has been itching all along for an excuse to get rid of me; if I wrested control over his licorneir from him, he would no doubt argue that this offense was punishable by death.
Cursing every single saint and star I can think of, I twist in the saddle again and again, trying to look back into the encampment. Terrible howls rend the night, and I can’t tell if it’s the virulium-crazed fae or more of those hideous hobgoblins. It’s all one nightmarish racket to my ears.
I realize suddenly that Kildorath is not leading us in the direction of the Licornyn encampment.
It’s difficult for me to see what is happening out here in the open plains, under that overcast sky.
Surely we should be among the small dakaths by now.
Just as the thought occurs to me, a break in the clouds reveals a sliver of moonlight, and by its glow, I take in the world around me.
We are far out beyond both encampments, out in the empty country between our forces and the ruins of Evisar City.
What in the name of all the gods are we doing out here?
Diira, responding to my shock, pulls up short. What’s happening, Diira? I sing to her. Why did he bring us here?
Miramenor bade me follow him, Diira replies. Her ears twitch back toward me. We are safe. He is our friend.
I sense her conviction, but I am unconvinced. Stop, I tell her, then sitting up taller in the saddle, shout to Kildorath, “Where are you taking me?”
In answer Kildorath bows low over his licorneir, who puts on a sudden burst of speed, galloping ahead of me into the darkness and beyond my range of sight. My stomach drops. “What . . . ?” I whisper.
The world around me erupts in screams. Strange, ululating wails, animalistic and hungry.
I turn, look back the way we’ve come to where the Noxaurian campfires burn. Between here and there the ground crawls, swarming with low, dark figures, like enormous black ants scurrying my way.
Hobgoblins.
Diira throws back her head. Her flame, which had burnt low, bursts into full force, enveloping me in power and protection.
Nevertheless I draw my sword, determined not to be caught defenseless.
Gripping it tight, I lean over my beast’s neck as she bursts into a long-legged gallop.
No carefully collected power as she would muster for a charge, but sheer speed and propulsion.
Wind whips in my face, stealing my breath, but my heart rises in a momentary burst of glory.
No licorneir in all this world can match my darling for speed!
Another gap in the clouds lets a gleam of moonlight through.
To my horror, I see those low, scuttling creatures cutting off the stretch of country in front of us.
Diira hastily changes lead and turns, but there are more hobgoblins speeding toward us.
Firelight flashes across faces of twisted monstrosity—wrinkled creatures with great tusks and large, slitted nostrils from which slime pours in green rivulets.
More green slime drips from their sagging jowls, coating their hairless bodies in viscous matter so that they seem almost to glow.
A foul stink of pure evil fills my nostrils, and it’s all I can do to keep from being sick.
Diira turns and bolts in another direction, seeking escape.
One of the hobgoblins leaps for her, powerful muscles propelling it through the air.
It lands on her hind quarters right behind me, and though it immediately bursts into flame from her heat, it doesn’t seem to care.
Perhaps that slimy coating gives it some protection, at least from the initial burn.
With a wild cry of terror, I slash at it with my sword, splitting its ugly face open.
This, at least, surprises the creature; it did not expect me to defend myself.
It falls back, but one long-fingered hand catches my skirts and nearly pulls me with it.
I end up half-way out of the saddle before the skirt rips free, exposing my leg.
Diira shifts her gait to make it easier for me to scramble back into the saddle, but in doing so, she loses valuable speed.
The hobgoblins swarm closer. They seem to form a wall in front of us.
Diira gathers her strength and springs into the air, and I feel for a wild moment as though she’s sprouted wings and taken flight!
She soars over those savage heads, lands gracefully on the ground on the far side of them, and puts on another burst of speed.
By now the whole countryside crawls with hobgoblins, like a flood ready to sweep us away.
Diira! I sing desperately.
My licorneir puts down her head. Her sharp horn skewers a hobgoblin, and she flings it to one side.
It crashes into others, sending them toppling, but they keep on coming.
She strikes again and again with lancelike sharpness, and I hack at anything that moves with my sword.
A hobgoblin gets through both our defenses, leaping onto Diira’s neck and ripping into it with those razor tusks.
A great gash opens up, and silver blood flows.
Screaming with rage and terror, I stretch out, hacking and hacking at the beast, afraid I’ll hit Diira in my wildness, but too desperate to stop. The hobgoblin releases her, falls to the ground, but Diira stumbles. Blood pours from many wounds, and her soul-song falters in my mind.
Diira! I scream. Even in my head, our song, once so bright, so strong, is drowned by the cries of the hobgoblins closing in. But I hear her still, faintly in the back of my mind.
Vellara. I am . . . sorry . . .
She staggers, falls to her knees.