Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (11 page)

Many of the officers had climbed atop the oxen to ride
at leisure rather than walk among their men. G’thk smirked down at Jinzan from
his perch atop the back of an ox, as if lording his authority over the human
sorcerer as he watched Jinzan plod along among the common soldiers. Jinzan had
bluntly refused to have anything to do with the beasts of burden and made every
effort to keep himself upwind of them as he walked. G’thk had been quite
tolerant of his human eccentricities during his stay with the goblins, but
Jinzan knew that he had begun to push the limits of their friendship with his
presumptions. Jinzan was important among his own people, but the goblins had
scant interest in an alliance with the Megrenn. Their current arrangement was
one of mutual convenience. At some point, he would have to smooth relations with
the goblin general.

Jinzan had never been a great lover of nature, and the
beauty of the woodland surroundings and the fresh, clean air were lost on him.
The sea he could respect, but the woods were a place where things lurked. There
were myriad little scents to it that meant nothing to him, and the sight lines
were so short that anything might lie in wait just beyond his vision. It was
not his place, and he disliked the strangeness he felt traversing it.

The walk itself bothered him just a little, though he
was careful not to let any sign of weakness show. Jinzan’s magical powers had
slowed his aging greatly, so that he appeared to be in the hale summers of his
middle twenties despite twenty additional summers’ wisdom to the contrary. His
time was spent at activities of mind more often than those of body, however,
and his limbs were ill accustomed to long exertion. He grimaced in pain as a
cramp worked its way into his calf. Mindful of the watchful eyes of the
goblins, he ran his fingers through his thinning hair, a nervous habit he had
developed long ago that he used to draw attention away from his facial
expressions as he composed himself. A meditative trance or a spell to mask the
pain in his aching muscles could have made short work of such simple aches but
he did not wish to be seen as frail by the goblins.

How strange,
he thought,
that I worry these twig-limbed runts will think
me
frail.

They paused a short distance from the battlefield and
sent scouts to search for signs of any enemies left lying in wait around the
area. When the scouts reported the area to be clear of Kadrins, the army
proceeded into the area.

Jinzan saw straightaway that the battle had indeed
been an incredible slaughter. Camp debris lay scattered and destroyed about the
clearing. Many holes had been dug about the perimeter, more than a few
containing the broken corpses of goblins who had been so unfortunate as to fall
into them with enemies near at hand. Bodies, both human and goblin, littered
the area and the surrounding forest. Most of the bodies bore battle wounds from
spear or sword, and there were scorched and burned corpses in abundance as
well.

Hardened as Jinzan was to Kadrin misfortune, he might
have felt some sympathy for the fallen had any of them been lying wounded and
suffering. There was something primal and awful about the nearness of death
that tugged at his carefully buried compassion. He had never been able to abide
the torture of even his most hated enemies, though on more than one occasion,
he had held sway over the fate of Kadrin prisoners. But there was nothing on
the forlorn battlefield to give him pause—just worthless corpses. The dead were
beyond pain, beyond his pity.

As he surveyed the battlefield, two areas caught
Jinzan’s eye as he tried to piece together what had transpired. First was a
cluster of corpses within a few paces of each other that bore strangely garish
wounds. They appeared to have been slashed by a sword, but the wounds festered,
looking gangrenous and discolored. Even on skin that had no cut upon it, there
were blisters and a rash-like reddening. It was the work of that enchanted
weapon, Jinzan had no doubt. The other spot of interest was the scorched region
in the middle of the camp. The ground had been burned elsewhere in places, but
here it had a baked, cracked look to it, as if there had been an incredible
heat for some time that had parched the ground and made it look like a desert.
A moment of conferring with the survivors marked the area as the spot where the
human sorcerer had collapsed.

Jinzan cursed his lack of woodcraft, for he could not
tell which way the humans had gone when they fled the battle. Untold days of
occupying the site had left footprints and tracks all about, and he could not
judge which were the most recent. He sighed in frustration and knew he was
going to have to wait for the assassin to track down the Kadrins.

Throughout the afternoon, the goblins went about the
unsavory task of clearing the bodies from the battlefield. It was a large job,
considering that there were nearly as many dead as there were goblins to bury
them, and the human bodies required several goblins to move. It could not be
helped, though, if they were to occupy the campsite; the carnage was already
beginning to attract scavengers. With their small spades, a score or more of
goblins began digging graves just outside camp. Jinzan noted with interest,
despite his impatience, that the goblins were preparing the humans for burial
as well. He could not tell whether it was a show of respect for the enemy dead,
or a mere extension of the pragmatism they showed in laying their own dead to
rest where carrion-eaters could not reach them. He knew that his own people
likely would have just piled the bodies and set them ablaze. It was quite
obvious to Jinzan how little thought the Kadrins had given to the dead.

*
* * * * * * *

It was nearly dusk when Gkt’Lr arrived in the newly
erected goblin camp. The runner that had been sent to retrieve him had not yet
returned, though; the fleet-footed assassin had outpaced the runner and left
him behind by more than a league. Gkt’Lr’s business often required covering
long distances quickly, and he was as fast as any member of the Assassin's
Guild. He held the rank of Master of Eternal Night, second only to the
Grandmaster of Darkness in the Cult of Knives hierarchy, a position that could
not be attained by those lacking in any of the guild’s deadly areas of
expertise.

Wasting no time, Gkt’Lr approached the goblin general
and presented himself. [Your summons was urgent. What task do you have for me?
Has your pet human displeased you?] the assassin asked with a touch of dark
humor.

Jinzan could not quite keep his nervousness from being
reflected in his face, and he found himself running an involuntary hand through
his hair yet again.

[There was a battle fought here at dawn,] G’thk
responded, letting the jest slip, though a smile betrayed that it privately
amused him. [A group of humans escaped. Among them are at least one knight,
wielding a deadly magical sword, and possibly a wounded sorcerer.]

[How many are there?]

[We do not have a count.] G’thk gave a sidelong glare
toward one of the goblins who had survived the battle. [But it was fewer than a
score, by the account the survivors gave.]

[Am I to kill them all, then?] the assassin asked
casually, as if it was a task of no consequence.

[That is your task. I will pay whatever price your
guild demands for this service.] G’thk hoped to avoid any lengthy haggling over
the assassin’s fee, for fear that the humans’ head start might allow them to
reach safety before the assassin caught up to them.

[Very well, then. I will begin my pursuit at once. I
trust you will not forget this promise, once the job is complete,] said Gkt’Lr,
and it was G’thk’s turn to shift uncomfortably at the assassin’s remarks.

The assassin made a search of the immediate area and
concluded that the humans had crossed Grey Crag Brook. The goblins’ earlier
search had noticed the number of tracks near the riverbank, but they had
assumed that the humans had merely used the brook to wash; it was too deep for
a fording, by their estimation. Gkt’Lr scoffed at their foolishness, pointing
out that either the Kadrins used magic to cross, or that the water must not
have been too deep for the taller humans to wade.

Undaunted by the prospects of crossing the water,
Gkt’Lr reached into a small pouch at his belt and pulled out a pair of items
that drew strange looks from the onlooking goblins. They were small wooden
pieces the shape of an axe head, but much smaller, with strings hanging from
them. The end of the axe-head shape was hollowed out, and the assassin slipped
his toes into the hollows and secured them by tying the strings behind his
ankles. The result looked something like a goblin with duck feet.

Ignoring the whispered wisecracks from among the
soldiers looking on, the assassin began to use some sort of magic. Gkt’Lr bowed
his head and closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Jinzan
strained to make out the barely audible whisper of the assassin’s voice, or to
discern the subtle motions of the goblin’s fingertips as he traced tiny
patterns in the air in front of him, but to no avail. He felt the aether swirl
into the assassin as the magic came to a climax and was completed. The assassin
looked up, appearing satisfied. He took a few running steps in place, his legs
moving in a blur, then started toward the brook. In three running paces, he hit
the water, and to the astonishment of the soldiers watching him, he kept
running. Ring-shaped ripples of water echoed from each shallow footprint left
in the brook’s otherwise tranquil surface as the assassin sped across, lightly
running on the water. In less time than it took the goblins to overcome their
surprise, the assassin reached the far bank, where he removed the devices from
his feet and quickly disappeared into the forest.

*
* * * * * * *

Gkt’Lr had little trouble following the trail once he
was free of the jumbled mass of footprints that had been left at the campsite,
both from the battle and from occupation by human and goblin armies. There was
starlight and moonlight in plenty filtering through the treetops, and goblin
vision was little impaired by dim light. The heavy feet of the humans marked
their path clearly, and there was no evidence that his quarry had made any attempt
to obscure it.

The assassin followed the humans’ trail all through
the night and the next day, pausing only twice for a quick bit of sleep and a
small meal consisting of dried strips of meat. The humans seemed to be
traveling due north, which made the task much easier. Still, Gkt’Lr was wary of
deception. The Kadrin Empire lay to the east, across the Cloud Wall Mountains,
and there were smaller outlying colonies and settlements to the south. North of
Kelvie Forest was disputed territory, where the humans were more likely to find
enemies than allies. He was watchful always for their path to turn or double
back. He knew it cost him time to be so careful, but part of his reputation was
earned by never failing a job; that meant that he never allowed himself to make
foolish mistakes.

In the waning hours of the night, not so long before
dawn would brighten the eastern sky, his vigilance paid dividends. The humans
had stopped and milled about for a while, then turned west. It was a baffling
decision, and Gkt’Lr could only assume that they suspected pursuit and were
trying to throw off the trail. After all, travel far enough to the west and
they would end up in goblin territory.

He followed the trail west and very soon came upon a
small cottage nestled among the trees. It was a curious sight, as Gkt’Lr knew
of no inhabitants of this part of the forest. Woodcutters made large camps that
were clearly marked by large swaths of felled trees. Perhaps this was a
trapper’s dwelling. The assassin approached for a closer look and could just
make out the sleeping forms of a number of humans. He saw no sentries or anyone
awake and on guard at all.

This is too easy
, he thought, drawing his dagger from its sheath.

He paused briefly, closing his eyes and trying to feel
around the area for Sources of aether that would mark hidden animals or humans
that might raise an alarm if startled. He was surprised by the amount of aether
in the area but could sense nothing that would indicate that a human or
nocturnal creature was creating it. It seemed to be coming from the plants in
the area—a particularly aether-strong species to be sure.

He crept toward the sleeping Kadrins, assured now that
only a failing of his own stealth lay between those humans and their deaths.
His progress was slow and deliberate as he savored the moment before his easy
task was over. Only his own self-discipline kept him from crying out then, when
suddenly he felt his dagger being plucked from his hand. Quickly he spun about,
still silent despite the sudden movement. He caught sight of a flash of white
as something disappeared behind a tree some distance off.

He broke into a run to pursue whoever or whatever it
was that had pilfered his dagger from his hand, the luxury of stealth lost to
him and replaced by the need for quickness afoot. When he got to the tree, he
saw nothing there, and as he looked about, he caught sight of the running form
of a human cresting a low rise and being lost to his view.

Gkt’Lr ducked low as he approached the top of the
small rise, and he crawled the last few feet on his belly. He peered over the
top and quickly pulled his head back down as he saw a human looking directly at
him. The human was sitting on a fallen log, with an amused expression on his
face. The assassin’s initial reaction had been a reflex, wrought of long
winters in a profession where paranoia was a boon. With a moment to reflect, he
decided that the human was neither running nor hunting him but rather waiting.
Standing up and trying to sort through the bizarre situation in his head, the
assassin approached the strange human and hoped for a parley.