Straken (23 page)

After checking the radian draws and light sheaths for breaks and tears and finding everything intact, Rue took
Swift Sure
off the ground, pointed her east across the sweep of the forested valley, and sailed in search of Bek’s findings.

It was nearing midday when Trefen Morys, who had been keeping watch at the bow for the better part of an hour, called back, “There are ruins down there!”

Rue dropped
Swift Sure
into a slow descent toward the canopy of the trees, following the young Druid’s shouted directions. Within minutes, the ruins were visible to them all. Remnants of buildings
sprawled for miles, a jumble of broken walls, columns, and battlements. What little remained had been overgrown by trees and scrub, enveloped by the foliage of the jungle. In places, wildflowers formed bright patches amid the blanketing shadows.

“There are people down there!” Trefen Morys shouted suddenly.

Bek went forward at once, picking his way gingerly across the decking to where the Druid stood. They were only a hundred feet above the canopy by then and able to see the whole of the valley clearly. As Bek came up beside him, Trefen Morys pointed. Gnarled, string-thin forms darted about the rubble at the edges of the ruins, creatures similar to Gnomes but clearly something else.

“Urdas,” Bek said aloud.

He recognized them from earlier expeditions he had made into the Charnals. He saw them look up as
Swift Sure
hove into view, repositioning themselves to meet the newly perceived threat, brandishing slings and bows and arrows.

“Keep us flying, Rue!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“What are they doing?” Trefen Morys asked him.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Keep your eyes open.”

He went back to the pilot box and climbed up beside Rue and Bellizen, telling them what he had seen. “They’ve ringed the ruins. I think they’re looking for something. Maybe the same thing we’re looking for.”

He decided to use the wishsong again, to seek anew the traces of Pen’s passing he had sensed that morning. He found them immediately, strong and clear and just ahead in the ruins. The magic was diffuse and fading, days old and no longer clearly defined. But its use had been powerful and reflected both determination and clear intent. Pen had experienced an epiphany or confrontation of major proportions. If he had survived that, Bek thought, then there was some reason to believe he could survive the Forbidding.

“Ahead, five degrees east southeast,” he told Rue, pointing for emphasis.

Swift Sure
altered course slightly and flew on, Rue holding the airship’s speed down so that they could scan the ruins below for other signs of life. They were flying along the southern perimeter, and there were Urdas scattered all along it. They seemed reluctant to go farther in. Bek remembered that the Urdas were superstitious about places they considered sacred; the ruins might well be one such
place. But the Urdas were clearly there for a reason. If they could not enter, then they were waiting for something that had.

“Smoke,” Rue said suddenly, pointing off to the right.

From just beyond the main body of the ruins, separated by a series of deep, wooded, rifts, a column of black smoke rose from a crumbling blockhouse and tower. The Urdas were all about it, three and four deep within the cover of trees and rocks, showering the fortifications with darts and arrows and spears.

“I’d say we’ve found something,” Rue offered, giving Bek a quick glance.

But it was not something that tracked to the traces of Pen’s passing that Bek had detected. It was something entirely apart. He hesitated, wondering how advisable it was to become distracted by something that might have nothing at all to do with what they were looking for.

“All right,” he said finally, “let’s have a look.”

I
t was like flying into a hornet’s nest.

Swift Sure
descended in a long, slow spiral, drawing the attention of the band of Urdas below. Bek had hoped that their appearance alone would prove startling enough to these superstitious people to make them withdraw. But instead of bolting back into the trees and seeking cover, the Urdas immediately turned their weapons on the airship. Trefen Morys barely had time to shout a warning from the bow when a hail of spears and darts struck the underside of the vessel and a wash of arrows arced over the railing in a deadly sweep.

Everyone ducked behind the protective railings as Bek took
Swift Sure
back up again, out of reach of the attack. As he did so, Trefen Morys came running back.

“There are Rock Trolls down there in that tower!” he shouted up to Pen. “They were waving to us for help!”

Bek turned to Rue. “Load both the port and starboard rail slings. Maybe we can drive the Urdas far enough back into the trees to gain space to get a ladder down.”

The starboard rail sling was still in place from their flight out of Paranor, and with help from Trefen Morys it took Rue only minutes to set up the port weapon and arm them both. Placing the young Druid on the former and herself on the latter, she sent Bellizen amidships
to stand ready to lower the rope ladder, then signaled for Bek to take
Swift Sure
down again.

It was trickier going in the second time. The Urdas were waiting, neither awed nor frightened of the airship. Even from high up, Bek could tell that they were aggressively hostile. Whatever had incensed them had stirred their anger to such intensity that they were beyond caring what happened to them so long as they stopped any rescue attempt. They were clustered at every quarter of the tower walls, and as soon as
Swift Sure
came within range, they attacked. Bek kept his hold on the airship steady to give Rue and Trefen Morys a chance to chase them off, but even after both rail slings were emptied twice into the attackers, they held their ground, refusing to fall back. Gnarled, hairy forms swarmed through the wooded ravines, keeping the tower and its occupants besieged.

Bek took the airship out of range once more, trying to think what else they might try.

Rue returned from the railing and climbed into the pilot box. “Our weapons aren’t going to work, Bek. If we want to get those Rock Trolls out of that tower, we have to take a different approach.”

She leaned close so that only he could hear. “Could you use the wishsong to help?”

He stared at her in surprise. She hated his magic, hated the legacy that went with it—so much so that he had barely used it since coming back from Parkasia. The search for their son had marked his first serious attempt in several years. In truth, he wasn’t even sure he knew after so long how to employ it in the way that would be necessary.

“I understand,” she said, reading the look on his face. “But we don’t have any choice.”

She was saying that if they wanted to help Pen, this was what it was going to take. The wind shifted and blew across his face, unexpectedly chill and biting as it came down off the mountains. He held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “Take the helm.”

He went down on deck to where the young Druids stood waiting and motioned them over to the rope ladder so that both could help with the rescue effort. Then he moved forward to the bow and looked down.

Urdas swarmed through the trees below, too many to count. Rue
was right. Even a dozen rail slings wouldn’t be enough to chase them off. A more effective weapon was needed, and there was nothing more effective than the wishsong when it was used in the right way. Grianne had taught him so years ago when she had tried to kill him. He thought it ironic that he would use that lesson now to try to save her.

“Take us back down!” he shouted to Rue, a sudden gust of wind nearly obscuring his words. It was heavy enough that it shook the airship from bow to stern. “Slowly!”

He glanced north to where huge storm clouds were beginning to build on the horizon, sifting down through the peaks toward the Inkrim. A change in the weather was coming, and it did not favor their efforts. If they failed to get a ladder down soon, given the nature of storms in that region, it might not be possible to try again for days.

He looked down again at the Urdas, trying to think how to force them to move back from the walls of the tower. He could do some things safely with the wishsong, but he did not want to risk trying too much after so many years of no practice. The magic was powerful and at times unpredictable. Using it the wrong way could prove disastrous. If it failed to respond as intended, it might send them all crashing down with the airship.

The wind gusted across his face again, and suddenly he remembered that the Druids favored using the elements as allies in their wielding of magic. Perhaps he could do the same here.

He brought up the wishsong in a soft hum, calling it to life, feeling it come awake and then flood through him with a slow, rising heat. He kept his gaze fixed on the scene below as he began to give the magic a shape and a form, a sense and a purpose. He found the wind currents that preceded the coming storm and stirred in the magic. The currents gained force and consistency, and as they gusted about him they began to take on a new intensity. What had begun as a series of uneven bursts now became a steady blow. Changes of pitch evened and slowly built into a howl that suggested the cresting of a tidal wave.

The Urdas began looking around in confusion and then in fear. A storm of that kind wasn’t something they understood. They were unfamiliar with winds of such magnitude. They crouched lower, and
then began to back away from the tower toward the deep woods, their superstitious nature warning them that the elements were spirit-driven.

Bek built on the power of his magic, adding fresh layers, giving the wind an extraordinary sound and feel, a roar that began to shake trees and earth alike. He did not look back at Rue, trusting her to continue
Swift Sure
’s descent, to understand what he was doing and not be frightened by it. He didn’t know what the Druids were thinking, but he couldn’t spare time to worry about them. He had the wind tearing across the landscape by then, scattering the Urdas in all directions, their determination to stand fast shattered.

Then the treetops were right below them, and the outer walls of the tower became visible through the gaps. He risked a quick glance back at Trefen Morys and Bellizen and saw them dropping the rope ladder over the side of the railing, down to the besieged Trolls. Almost immediately bulky forms began to emerge, scrambling from their concealment, some helping others, all of them moving swiftly for the ladder. But then they ducked back again, unable to advance. Bek felt his strength beginning to fail, and forced himself to push harder to keep the wind in place. The Trolls had still not begun to climb the ladder, and the Urdas were beginning to reemerge from the trees. Rue was yelling something at him, but he couldn’t hear what. He intensified the magic once more, feeling his hold on it slipping away.

Then Bellizen was beside him, frantic. “Your magic is too strong, Bek! The force of the wind is keeping the Trolls from climbing the ladder!”

He realized it was true, that his efforts at keeping the Urdas at bay were keeping the Trolls pinned down, as well. Rue must have been trying to tell him as much. He slowed his efforts, letting the wind diminish. Within the ruins of the tower, the Trolls recognized their opportunity and scrambled for the ladder. The Urdas, in response, rushed to stop them.

There was nothing more Bek could do to help. Any further use of the magic to intensify the wind would do as much damage as good. The Trolls would have to make it on their own. He kept the wind in place a few moments longer, tuning its sound to an earsplitting shriek in an effort to frighten the Urdas. But the Inkrim natives were no longer intimidated, having seen what was happening and become
newly enraged at the thought of losing the intruders to an airship rescue. They came at the Trolls in waves, weapons loosing, the air filling with missiles. Two of the Trolls were struck, and one fell to his death. The others pressed on, climbing steadily through the hail of fire, helping each other as they did so. One of them, he saw, carried a smaller figure tucked under one arm, a squat blocky form that could only be a Dwarf.