Triplet (34 page)

“Damn it all, knock off the chatter,” the authoritative voice ordered. “That won't be the last attack—listen for wherever the hell they're doing the invocation from.”

The group fell silent. Ravagin gritted his teeth, sending up a quick prayer for the second catapult. If its restraint had stopped burning …

He counted ten heartbeats; and then the second salvo of pebbles hit, the confrontation between spirits as the trapped firebrats attempted to pass through the lar sending flares of light across the landscape. Easing his hand onto his sword hilt, Ravagin braced himself. If the leader reacted to the unheard attack with any intelligence at all …

He did. “
Carash-melanasta,
” the other snapped. “Everyone—get out there and find him.”

“The lar—!”

“Shut up—you want to sit here and let him just break it down?” the leader snarled. “Spread out! Prilsift, Orlantin—you two stay here in case they try and slip past us. Everyone else,
move.
”

Ravagin froze in place as the dimly seen figures fanned rapidly out from in front of the mound. Sacrificial goats, if there had really been a spirithandler out there knowledgeable enough to have launched the attack they thought they'd just witnessed. The timing here was going to be critical …

The last searcher passed over the imaginary line he'd drawn … and Ravagin moved.

The closest of the two men flanking the Tunnel entrance never had a chance. He'd barely started to turn, responding perhaps to a flicker from his peripheral vision, when Ravagin's short sword slashed viciously across his throat. The other swore and leaped away from the mound, bringing his sword to bear. Ravagin charged him, sensing Danae moving around the corner and into the Tunnel entrance—

“
Sa-trahist rassh!
” the guard shouted.

And a firebrat erupted directly in Ravagin's path.

He skidded to a hard halt, throwing up his left arm as the heat washed over him. “Run, Danae,” he snapped. If the guard came around the firebrat now, while he was still blinded from its light, he was dead.

But no sword sliced toward him from the glare. Ducking past the flaming spirit, Ravagin turned toward the Tunnel, senses alert for the attack which still should be coming. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of running feet as the rest of the guards ran furiously to join the fight, and he realized that he had no choice. Clamping his jaw tightly, he lowered his head and charged, hoping that when the sword of his ambusher came for him he would at least survive the blow long enough to try and seal the Tunnel behind him.

Five long steps—a short eternity—and then his flickering shadow was looming over him on the Tunnel's ceiling, and he was inside. Without injury or attack … and Melentha's servants had just made their last mistake. He and Danae were inside, they were outside—

“
Sa-trahist rassh!
” he shouted, turning back to face the opening. “
Sa-trahist rassh, sa-trahist rassh!
”

And they were damn well going to
stay
outside. The three invoked firebrats flared up to block the Tunnel's entrance, cutting off his view of the men furiously running toward him around the firebrat their comrade had called up.

And Ravagin's blood froze.

He hadn't been attacked because there had been no one there to attack him. The other guard hadn't stayed around to fight after invoking his firebrat:
he'd followed Danae into the Tunnel!

The others swearing and reaching for bow and arrow outside were instantly forgotten. Twisting around again with a speed that wrenched his back, Ravagin sprinted desperately down the Tunnel. Danae was alone, naked, unarmed—

He pushed the awful vision from his mind, putting everything he had into his legs. The light from outside was beginning to fade now with the distance; if Danae's extraordinary vision hadn't been blinded before she got into the Tunnel she would have the advantage over her pursuer when the path started to curve.

If she realized she
was
being pursued.

“Danae!” he called with all the breath he could spare from his running. “Behind you—watch out—get to the middle, fast!”

There was no response he could hear above his own pounding feet.
She'll make it,
he told himself over and over.
She'll make it.
But the words were small comfort. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his pace to the absolute limit.

And nearly wound up plastering himself against the wall as the Tunnel began its slow right-handed turn. “
Haklarast,
” he panted. “Stay behind me,” he added as the sprite appeared. The faint light from the glow-fire was just right. He kept on running—

The light faded around the turn as the sprite stayed where it had been invoked.

Damn.
His spirit invisibility had unexpectedly played him false. Snatching his sword from its sheath, he stuck it out to the side, letting its point define the wall's position for him as he ran. It bounced back and forth across the roughness there, throwing off sparks as the indestructible Tunnel material tore microscopic bits of steel from it. But it gave him a clear track to follow, allowed him to run as fast as he could manage. Ahead, somewhere, his eyes told him that there was faint light; and as he came around the last stretch of curve—

They were there, both of them, and it was a shock to find out just how much of their lead he'd managed to close. Directly ahead of Ravagin, perhaps six meters away, was the guard, a sprite hovering at his shoulder giving off the glow Ravagin had seen as he rounded the bend. Farther ahead was Danae—

Ravagin's heart seemed to skip a beat. Danae was barely two meters ahead of her pursuer. And he was visibly gaining.

“You want to fight someone, fight me!” Ravagin shouted. Or had intended to shout; it came out sounding more like a dying man's gasp. But it was enough. The guard twisted his head to look, slowing down in the process … and in the half-second breather it bought her, Danae reached down to half pull, half kick the shoes off her feet and sprinted the last three meters across the invisible telefold line to safety.

But the guard didn't know she was beyond his reach. Apparently satisfied that he was in no immediate danger, he turned back and continued on toward her, raising his sword as he saw her collapsed against the wall just ahead of him. Ravagin put on a burst of speed, knowing suddenly what he would have to do and how he would have to do it; skidded to a halt and spun a hundred eighty degrees around, sword braced straight out against his belt buckle. Behind him, the guard hit the telefold, reappeared the preordained five meters back—

And slammed headlong into Ravagin, impaling himself on Ravagin's sword.

The momentum of that rush bowled Ravagin over, the two of them toppling together onto the floor … and as the man on top of him rattled and died, a horrible, ululating scream split the air.

Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, Ravagin heard a voice. “Oh, God!” Danae was gasping. “
Ravagin!
”

“I'm all right,” he panted, struggling for the leverage to push the bloody body off of him. He'd barely begun when Danae was kneeling beside him, taking the dead man's arm and helping Ravagin push. “Are you okay?” he added, looking up at her.

“I'm fine—he never touched me,” she assured him distractedly, eyes widening at the sight of the blood matting his shirt. “But that
scream
—I thought you'd been killed.

“I don't think it was any human voice made
that
sound,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “Looks like the spirits hedged their bets a little, after all, and had something in here keeping an eye on things.” In the glow of the sprite still riding the dead man's shoulder, Danae's sweat-sheened body fairly glowed; and it took a second for him to catch the significance of the way she was looking at him … “Your eyes!” he blurted suddenly. “They're all right?”

“I guess so,” she said, helping him to his feet. “As soon as I crossed the telefold everything went dark.”

“Everything—? Oh. Right.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “We made it. We actually made it.”

“I never had any doubt we would,” Danae said … and abruptly she was in his arms.

They held each other that way for a long minute … and when the trembling of mutually released fear and tension had finally worked its way out, Ravagin gently disengaged her arms. “Yeah,” he said, “I thought we were as good as dead, too. Come on; let's shake the dust of Karyx off our feet and get the hell out of here.”

Ravagin got undressed as quickly as fatigue and tired muscles permitted, stowing everything in the hidden lockers before crossing with Danae to the Shamsheer side of the Tunnel. He kept his ears cocked for sounds of further pursuit, but none of the guards they'd left behind had made an appearance by the time he and Danae were finishing dressing. “You think they've given up?” Danae asked, glancing nervously back down the Tunnel as he studied the weapons shelf in the glow of a firefly around his finger. “That spirit scream sounded like a battle call.”

“It was probably just venting a load of futile anger,” Ravagin shrugged. “The spirits must surely know we're beyond their reach now, and given that there's no real point in their wasting time sending men in after us. Damn, but I wish they'd keep these weapons lockers better stocked.”

“If they came in naked—”

“I'd almost like to see them try it,” he said grimly, removing his old scorpion glove and a dagger from the locker and securing them to his belt. “Here,” he added, pulling out a second dagger and handing it to her.

She frowned a bit as she took it. “Last time we came through here you told me Shamsheer nobleladies didn't wear weapons.”

“They don't, but for the moment I don't really care about the local customs.”

She snorted gently. “And Melentha might just be desperate enough to send naked men after us?”

He sighed. Danae was getting altogether too good at reading his mind. “She wouldn't dare,” he told her, not entirely honestly. “I just don't feel like taking unnecessary chances, that's all. Come on, let's go—I want to get a sky-plane and be somewhere civilized by breakfast.”

The first light of dawn had driven away all but the westernmost stars as Ravagin emerged from the Tunnel and stepped a few meters into the forest clearing surrounding it. For a moment he listened, alert for any of the nighttime predators who might not yet have sought shelter and sleep. But only the sounds of awakening birds and insects reached his ears, and after making a careful visual scan of the area he turned back to the Tunnel and waved. “All clear,” he called softly. She stepped out; and as he reached for the prayer stick at his belt, her eyes abruptly shifted skyward. He looked up, following her gaze—

And froze. Descending rapidly toward them was a sky-plane carrying the unmistakable figures of two trolls. Humanoid machines, programmed for defense of their Protectorate and castle-lord and totally incapable of moving even a meter outside their own boundaries … and yet they were
here
—at the Tunnel—over thirty kilometers from the nearest Protectorate.

“Oh, hell,” Ravagin murmured, very softly.

The sky-plane came nearer … and from one of the trolls boomed a voice: “Stand where you are, trespassers on the soil of the Feymar Protectorate,” it ordered. “You will submit to my command or be executed.”

T
HIS ISN'T FAIR,
WAS
the first, resentful, thought to cross Danae's mind as the sky-plane settled toward a landing
. We're tired and hungry, we've been hunted and harassed by an entire world and nearly killed in the process, and my eyes still hurt from what happened to them. And now
this
. Damn it all, it isn't
fair.

And then her fatigued mind caught up with her … and she felt her stomach muscles freeze. “Ravagin!” she hissed, “Those trolls—”

“Keep back,” he said without turning around. “Something's very, very wrong here.”

“They're not supposed to be this far out of their Protectorate, are they?”

“They're not supposed to be
anywhere
out of their Protectorate,” he replied. “Stay back, Danae—if I have to fight them, I want to have room to maneuver.”

Fight them?
Danae shifted her eyes back to the sky-plane and the two figures rising to their feet there. Sophisticated machines—she knew that much from her Triplet orientation—but from less than twenty meters away she found it hard to accept that fact on a gut level. True, their barrel chests and tubular limbs showed too much curvature and too little muscular definition beneath their orange/black/yellow garb; and their almost non-existent necks, overlarge bald heads, and pale skin kept them from ever being mistaken for human beings. And yet, there was something else about them—the ease and fluidity of their movements, perhaps—that seemed to belie their mechanical nature.

And in the midst of her sidetrack reverie, Danae's eyes fell on the crossbow pistol strapped to each troll's right thigh.
Fight them
… and she suddenly felt sick.

Ravagin let them get within ten meters of him and then raised his hand. “Hold, servants of Castle Feymareal,” he called in a firm voice. “As a law-abiding citizen of Shamsheer, I am entitled to know the charges against me.”

The first troll stopped; the second took another step before following suit. “You are trespassing on soil of the Feymar Protectorate,” the first said.

“But the soil of all Protectorates is free to all lawabiders,” Ravagin insisted. “What law-breaking charge is listed against me that my way may be interfered with?”

For the first time the troll seemed at a loss for words. “You will submit to my command or be executed,” it said at last.