Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (44 page)

A sudden movement by the wargs almost unseated several of their goblin masters, who had taken to raising both arms in their revelry, pumping fists to the night sky in anticipation of dining on elf flesh. As one, the pack of wargs had spun, growling to face the woods. Chanting voices abruptly changed to cursing as the goblins struggled to keep their seats and control their mounts.

Hogg took two steps toward the darkness, growling thunderously like a kettle drum. Kesh could feel the vibration between his legs. He frowned, then laughed as he realized what must have drawn the beasts’ attention. “An appetizer awaits you.” He pointed to the woods. “I would say it’s dwarvish!”

The goblins chuckled and cheered at his words, but the wargs remained steady and their low growling never ceased. Qual kicked his mount, swearing, but Hogg continued with his peculiar behavior, ratty ears pressed flat against his massive head.

A sound unlike anything Kesh had ever heard howled from the blackness, cutting off the goblins’ laughter and even silencing the wargs’ throaty growls. It started low, like the deep moan of a dire bear, but changed in pitch to an unworldly screech. The volume of the wailing continued to climb, ascending to the point of deafening pain. Kesh grabbed at his ears with both hands, but it did little to hamper the horrible sound.

“What is it? For Eos’ sake, what is it?!” Kesh screamed. Through the mounting agony, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something almost familiar in the awful sound.

The wargs bent to the ground and began to whine, while their riders mimicked Kesh and raked at their ears. One small rider at the edge of the clearing slipped from his mount’s back and staggered into the underbrush, eyes wide in panic.

Just when Kesh thought his ears would start to bleed, the keening stopped. His ears felt as though they had been stuffed with wool after a colony of bees had been shoved into his skull. The humming of his tortured eardrums was the only sound in the night. The world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation after that awful call. Only the unthinking flames of the fire continued to crackle with life. The wargs remained paralyzed in their submissive crouches, while their masters shook their heads and probed their ears with clawed fingers, attempting to dissipate the ringing in their ears.

A roar from the blackness shattered the silence, overwhelming the buzz in Kesh’s ears.

He jolted upright in time to witness the impossible.

The underbrush near the edge of the firelight exploded as a blurred form rocketed from the jungle. Something the size of a large bear charged one of the wargs and its rider, smashing into the pair with such force that they flew through the air like leaves caught in hurricane winds. The yipping cry of the warg and the yells of its rider were both cut off by the sound of snapping bones as the pair ended their flight against the trunk of a winewood tree some twenty feet from where they had been.

By the time Kesh looked back to see what had attacked from the darkness, it was gone. He had never seen anything move so fast or hit so hard.

Behind him, a goblin rider screamed. Kesh whipped his head around just in time to see the last of a warg’s forelegs disappearing into the underbrush. Savage growling undercut the wet ripping sounds and loud pops that preceded the death screams of the rider and his mount.

Kesh’s heart raced in fear, the sweet savor of his victory from moments ago forgotten. He screamed at Qual to move, to run, to go, but Hogg was still paralyzed and quaked in his crouch. Cursing, Kesh yanked his dagger free and took hold of Qual’s waist. With strength driven by panic, he drove the blade deep into Hogg’s hindquarters. “Get me out of here, damn you!”

The warg lurched forward. Qual scrambled to hang on, barely managing to snag a handful of mane. One gnarled arm was still looped in the muzzle reins, and he hauled Hogg’s massive head around to point them in the direction of the Keep. Fresh screams and howls of fear arose behind them as they crashed through the jungle.

Kesh was too frightened to look behind as they ran for their lives. All he could manage were mumbled prayers to Eos that Jagger’s forces would be strong enough to kill whatever it was that followed. His mind’s eye conjured images of the thing loping after them, closing in, jaws wide and slavering.

As they approached the broken wall, the sentries’ faces were revealed in the firelight. Questioning looks transitioned to masks of terror, and he knew the beast couldn’t be far behind. He screamed at the guards in desperation, “KILL IT!”

One man on the wall raised a brass horn to his lips, blowing the alarm, and answering calls sounded from the compound. The dozen men in the gap of the wall leveled their crossbows. Bolts hissed into the night, following the twang of the weapons as the men triggered the releases as one. Several passed close enough to be heard clearly as they clove the air near Kesh’s sweating brow.

A hideous screaming roar came from just behind him as several of the bolts found their mark, and he leaned closer into the foul-smelling Qual, urging Hogg on. The normally savage beast surged ahead, ignoring the knife wound and leaping into the gap of the broken wall, clearing more than thirty feet before crashing to the courtyard beyond. The yard was filled with shouting men. Most had armor, and all had weapons drawn.

Hogg finally lost his footing as he landed, and Qual and Kesh were both pitched into the air, shouting and flailing.

Rough hands seized Kesh by the collar and hauled him from the rough cobbles where he lay in a daze. He looked around, brushing dirt and straw from his face, and took note of the dozens of men and goblins, all of whom looked serious and deadly in the flickering torchlight.

A small laugh escaped him as the tension and fear started to ebb.
Thank Eos
, he laughed and took a shuddering breath. He would live another day.

As he considered the torn sleeve on his coat, the screams beyond the wall began.

Sacha panted as she and Erik scrambled onto the broken clay tiles of the roof. They had been herded steadily from room to room and hall to hall, searching for an escape, but their pursuers seemed to be everywhere. Once again, a window had provided the exit.

Sacha took Erik’s proffered hand and did not let go until her footing on the weathered shingles felt secure. She wanted to ask where they could go from here, but Erik turned and nimbly ran up the incline toward the top of the roof. She followed as quickly as she could.

Horns began to blast a warning, just as they had during her first attempt to escape with Brier. Sacha pushed away the images of his death as she made her way up the the roof after Erik. She had been unable to save the magistrate or herself then. Dwelling on the failure now would do little to help her, or Erik, escape the jaws of the trap that were closing tighter by the moment.

A breeze touched her face as she climbed, and a hint of wood smoke tickled her nose. She could see a fire in the woods beyond the curtain wall. Men yelled loudly to each other, swarmed into the courtyard, and began to converge on the gap.

Erik called out and waved her forward, “There’s a flat area just ahead. Come on!”

Sacha climbed up to the peak just as the first of their pursuit gained the roof.

“Stop! Stay where you are!” came a voice from below.

She stood on the peak with Erik’s assistance and looked back to see a guardsman clambering to a wobbly crouch on the broken tiles. Behind him, two other men were slowly making their way to the roof from window ledges below.

Erik hurled a dagger at the first guard. It glittered from the torchlight below as the blade turned end over end. The dagger connected with the wobbling man’s face—hilt first. The knife spun off into the night, clattered briefly on the roof tiles, and dropped harmlessly to the earth below. The guard, for his part, dropped to one knee, clutching at his cheek where the hilt had bruised him.

“Dammit!” Erik swore and grabbed Sacha’s wrist, hauling her down the other side of the roof in a clatter.

The flattened roof on this side ran roughly parallel to the Keep’s curtain wall, which was below the eave and at least twelve to fifteen feet away from where they stood.

Nowhere to run
, she thought.

A howling scream wailed from below; the voices of men and wargs rose. The sounds of battle erupted from the courtyard on the other side of the building. Fierce howling cries blended with the screams and calls of men.

She looked up at Erik, eyebrows raised. “How many did you bring with you?”

He held up two fingers.

That can’t be right
. The noise that surged and ebbed from the courtyard had to be a fight with dozens of men. “Are you sure?”

Erik looked confused as well, but he nodded. “Positive, but it doesn’t matter. We have to leave. Now.”

“And just how are we suppose to do that?” she asked, perplexed.

He pointed.

Her gaze followed his finger to a place beyond the edge of the roof.

The curtain wall followed the river on this side of the Keep, and a bend of the rushing water below had forced the wall to snake back to a point that was marginally closer to the building. Marginally.

Oh, Eos
, she thought. Aloud, she asked, “What are you proposing we do?”

He chuckled in answer.

“You’re insane. I can’t possibly make that jump.”

“I believe you can.”

Sacha let out a small laugh that, even to her ears, sounded a trifle desperate. “And what makes you think that?”

“You have no other choice,” Erik said. He gently turned her face so their eyes met.

She felt the butterflies in her belly scatter just a little.

“You
can
do this.” He smiled. “I know you can.”

“Stop. Curse your hides!” a voice cried out from above. The guard stood in silhouette against the predawn sky. He was wrestling his crossbow from its sling, which was attached to his back, as he continued to pour epithets down the tile at the fleeing pair.

“Go!” Erik shouted and shoved her shoulder roughly with one hand while snatching another blade from his brace of knives.

Sacha took one hesitant step along the walk, watching him.

Erik threw the knife, and the guard ducked as it spun uselessly into the purpling sky. In his haste to dodge, the guard slipped and fell. His crossbow clattered on the tile and fired. The bolt hissed through the air and clipped the merlon behind her, spraying stone chips into the air.

Sacha leapt into motion. The guard’s scattered curses faded as she ran. The wind in her ears and the pounding of her feet began to eclipse all other sounds as the edge drew nearer.

Time slowed at the instant her boot scraped on the last stone and she launched into the air. She thought of Rylan: the delicate feel of the baby’s face, the clean, fresh smell of her skin when she had been bathed, and the adoring look in her huge sapphire eyes. Sacha hoped Teacher would shelter her child from all of this madness.

She crashed into the stone path of the curtain wall, time rushing back to normal. Fiery pain seared up from her ankles and knees. She dropped into a clumsy roll that fetched up against one of the stone merlons overlooking the river below. She barked an incredulous laugh and turned back to look for signs of her rescuer.

Erik took flight from the roof. The elf appeared born to fly, and he sailed from the wall, arms and legs extended and reaching forward.

She realized with a sudden lurch that he would land almost exactly at the spot where she lay. She attempted to crawl to her feet, but pain from her right leg and ankle threatened to drop her in the midst of her dodge. Clutching the merlon, she managed to haul herself out of the way.

The elf landed behind her with a thud and rustle, rolling smoothly to his feet next to her.

Sacha felt his hands slide under her arms and he helped her to her feet, then put her arm over his shoulder. She tested her foot on the hard walkway and found the ankle too sensitive for her to walk on.

“Quickly now,” Erik said as he started to rush her along the wall-walk.

She limped along with his help, but they were moving too slowly.

Bolts were hissing through the air behind them as they scrambled forward, but then there were two solid thunks, like a cleaver shearing into a thick ham. Erik shuddered twice and grunted in pain.