Triplet (49 page)

The demon/troll's hand snapped up, and a crossbow bolt sizzled past Ravagin's ear.

With a lunge, he dived into cover. That one had been far too close for comfort … “Still having trouble handling the auto-fire circuits, I see,” he said, throwing a quick look around the tree. The demon/troll was making no attempt to move in. “Your dumb little parasite spirits had that same problem. I assumed a full-fledged demon would do somewhat better.”

“Taunt me while you may,” Astaroth retorted. “Your death is close and certain. I will kill you, and when the female human returns I will kill her, as well.”

“Her name is Danae,” Ravagin said, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead as he studied the area all around him in the fading light. Hart had said he would blaze the tree where the trigger was set, but so far there was no sign of any such mark. “Danae. I'd think you'd pay more attention to human names. Especially given how important your spirit names are to you. Good thing I know yours now, isn't it?”

A second crossbow bolt thudded into Ravagin's tree—a wasted shot, clearly fired in pure anger. If the troll had been carrying the usual complement of four sharp and two blunted stun bolts when Astaroth took it over, that meant two killing shots left. Getting him to expend those shots would make things a hell of lot safer … “Do I take it you're sensitive about your name, then?” he called. “Or are you just mad about how easily we pitiful humans can use those names for our own purposes?”

He held his breath; but the demon had apparently regained his temper and no shot was fired. “You cannot trick me into coming into the woods after you,” Astaroth snarled. “You may know my name, but neither Danae nor Gartanis do, and without it they will have no true power over me. I will not risk you passing me in the gloom of night to deliver that knowledge to them. I will wait for you here.”

Translation,
Ravagin thought,
he really
is
having trouble with the troll sensor circuitry. Otherwise there wouldn't be a chance of me sneaking by him whether he came out here or not.
Which was definitely to Ravagin's advantage; or it would be if and when he ever found Hart's damn blazed tree. Gritting his teeth, he gave the area another careful scan; and then, on sudden impulse, looked above him.

There, two meters up the trunk of his tree, was a neat cut.

He smiled tightly. Good old Hart; reading Ravagin's own tactical thoughts to the point of even anticipating the direction and path he'd choose to approach the clearing. Fumbling at his belt, Ravagin pulled out the watchblade and explored beneath the leaves at the base of the trunk with his free hand. There it was: the hard ridge of a thin rope circling the tree. He eased an eye around the trunk to confirm that Astaroth was indeed still standing in front of the Tunnel. Taking a deep breath, he said a quick prayer for Hart's skill and slashed the edge of the watchblade into the cord—

From Ravagin's right came the crackle of breaking branches as a tree a dozen meters into the forest was abruptly released from its bindings and snapped back toward the vertical; and at the same instant, the ground beneath the demon/troll erupted in a flurry of dead leaves as the fishing net Hart had so carefully laid out there was yanked from its concealment. Leaning out from behind his tree, Ravagin watched as the demon/troll, firmly caught in the net, was hauled up and out into the nearby trees.

And to see a crossbow bolt thud into the ground barely a meter away from him.

He jumped, swallowing hard at the sudden reminder that even with only partial control of the troll, Astaroth was a horribly deadly opponent. Gathering his legs under him, he sprinted for the Tunnel, shivering as the demon's scream of rage filtered down amid the crash of branches marking the end of the demon/troll's passage. Astaroth wouldn't be trapped for long, unfortunately—the troll's hands were strong enough by themselves to tear the net if there was no knife within easy reach. Within minutes, maybe even seconds, the demon/troll would be after him again … and Astaroth still had one lethal crossbow bolt left.

That last bolt remained unfired as Ravagin made it across the clearing to the relative safety of the Tunnel. Activating his firefly ring, he ran as quickly as the sloping floor and uncertain footing permitted. Barely halfway to the curved section the sudden sound of more breaking branches reached him. Swearing under his breath, he tried to pick up his pace … and just as he reached the curve and started around it there was a faint
twang
from far behind him and a crossbow bolt whistled past him to ricochet from the wall. Clamping his teeth hard, he kept running, resisting the impulse to shut down the firefly. With the curve between him and the demon/troll, darkness wouldn't give him any more protection and would only slow him down in the race ahead.

And it
was
going to be a race. Ravagin had seen trolls run before, and it was only the fact that the curved path slowed both of them down that gave him any chance at all of beating the machine to the telefold. Even with that, even with his head start and Astaroth's limited control over the troll machinery, it was going to be close. If Danae wasn't ready …

Another bolt ricocheted around the corner behind him, jarring him out of his thoughts. Astaroth, shooting blind with—Ravagin saw—one of the blunted stun bolts. Presumably the last one had been the other stun bolt, which meant he was saving his remaining sharp one for last. For right before the telefold.

Another fifty meters to go.
The demon/troll's heavy footsteps could be heard now, their echoes mixing with those of Ravagin's to fill the Tunnel with rolling thunder.
A few more seconds.
The center of Ravagin's back itched with the thought of that last crossbow bolt—his breathing sounded ragged in his ears above the pounding of his heart—almost there—

He came around the last part of the curve … and skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

Danae was waiting for him, all right. Her nude body lay stretched out against the wall directly ahead of him, her eyes closed in the firefly's light, a dark bruise almost visibly forming beneath her right ear. A half dozen meters further ahead, facing him from the Karyx side of the telefold—

“Astaroth,” Ravagin gasped, dropping down beside Danae, shielding her with his body from whatever was to come. “His name … is
Astaroth.
”

“Understood,” Hart said, glacially calm. “I'm ready.” The tone of the thudding footsteps behind Ravagin suddenly changed, and he twisted his head around to see the demon/troll come into sight, crossbow raised and tracking—

“
Hakleb—!
” Hart shouted.

In that instant Astaroth must have realized what was about to happen. The demon/troll shifted its aim, instinctively firing its last bolt at this new and unexpected threat. Reflexively, Hart ducked as the bolt came at him—and came at him, and came at him, covering the teleport's five meters over and over again until it struck the floor and finally lay still.

“
—Astaroth—
”

The demon screamed, one last welling up of hatred and fury. And perhaps of fear, for he knew now he was defeated, and Ravagin could only imagine what punishment the fourth world would order for that failure.

“
—mirraim!
”

And with the last part of the invocation spell Astaroth's wail suddenly changed its position, shifting in an instant from the troll behind Ravagin to the Karyx side of the telefold.

From Hart's side of the telefold. “Come on—move it!” Ravagin shouted at the other.

Hart needed no urging … but even as he leaped toward the telefold and the safety of Shamsheer an explosion of green flame abruptly enveloped his body. He gasped with pain, the sound mixing with the demon's own howling to set Ravagin's teeth on edge. A second later Hart was through the telefold; and as the corona vanished he collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap.

Ravagin was at his side in an instant. “Hart!” he snapped, fingers probing for the other's pulse. Weak, rapid, thready … “Come on, Hart, come on. You're safe now. Hang on—you can make it.”

Slowly, the other opened his eyes. “The demon,” he said with some effort. “Is he …?”

“It worked,” Ravagin assured him. “Exactly the way we thought it would. Of course he's across—who the hell do you think attacked you?”

“And … Ms. mal … ce—”

“Danae's fine,” he sighed. “You didn't hit her all that hard. For God's sake, Hart—”

He broke off, but Hart answered the unasked question anyway. “She wanted to do it,” he whispered. “She insisted on. … taking the same risk … you were taking. I … couldn't let her.”

Ravagin gritted his teeth. “Danae!” he shouted, turning his head around. “Wake up, Danae—come on, damn it, I need you.”

“Don't bother with me,” Hart said, fingers clutching at Ravagin's sleeve. “The shock alone … just get her out … and back home. Just … leave me here.”

“The hell I will,” Ravagin growled. “With air transport to a Dreya's Womb only a prayer stick call away? Sit tight, Hart—I'm going to go out a ways and call a sky-plane.”

“Ravagin—”

“No argument, damn it. Just think of it as part of my job.”

He wasn't sure … but as he stood up to go he thought he saw the faintest trace of a smile on the other's lips.

I
T SEEMED FITTING, SOMEHOW
, for them to meet at the Double Imperial for their quiet celebration. Danae was late, and as she was led to the table she saw Ravagin was already there. “Sorry,” she said as the maitre d' slid her chair in. “I stayed longer than I'd planned to at the hospital.”

“No problem,” Ravagin said, his eyes burning into hers. “How is he?”

She shook her head, feeling her throat tighten with the burden of memories. “They've found some more neural damage they have to try and track down. The right side of his face, this time. Aside from that … well, he's conscious and as calm as ever and … not in too much pain …” She broke off, blinking against sudden tears.

Ravagin nodded heavily. “Anything come of the suggestion that the doctors take him into Shamsheer and see if the Dreya's Wombs can do anything more for him?”

“They're afraid to move him,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Especially since they can't take any support gear across with them.” She took a deep breath. “I almost wish—”

She broke off, but too late, and she winced at the look of pain that appeared on Ravagin's face. “I'm sorry, Danae,” he said in a low voice. “There just wasn't any way to get to Saban's circuit diagrams in time. I don't know—maybe I should have tried—”

“Hey,” she cut him off softly, reaching across the table to grip his hand. “It's all right—really it is. Besides, what would we have told people when they asked us how we did it?” But even as she spoke, the thought of the diagrams rose, siren-like, before her. Perhaps if Ravagin could just have brought
one
of them out for her to memorize … With a supreme effort of will, she crushed the thought back down. “No, it's better this way,” she sighed. “You saw what happened to Saban; those diagrams were his own private addiction. Even with just a taste of it—you think we could have held out against the temptation to go back and get just a
little
more? Especially since we know how to do it?”

“Yeah, you're right.” He took a deep breath. “You're right. Let's get the hell off the subject before we blow Hart's whole sacrifice out of the water and replace Saban with one of us.”

Hart's sacrifice.
Unbidden, fresh tears formed in Danae's eyes. “It should have been me,” she whispered.

Ravagin understood. “It was his choice, Danae,” he reminded her gently. “He knew what he was risking when he took your place.”

“I know. Just part of his job, he'd say,” she said with a trace of bitterness.

“Yes, he would … and we both know how seriously he took that job. So don't feel guilty. Accept the debt, and make up your mind that you'll repay it in a thousand little ways to a thousand other people as you go through life. That's usually the only way we get to pay back something like this.”

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes. It sounded so simple and so trite … but after two days of soul-searching she knew it was the best she was going to get. “Let's get off this subject, too, can we? Tell me how your own gauntlet went.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of wine. “About as I expected. I'm officially out of the Courier Corps now.”

“A flat dismissal?”

“A flat resignation,” he corrected. “Quiet and peaceful, in exchange for them not pouring any heat onto Corah's head.”

Danae bit at her lip, feeling more tears coming on. Ravagin's career, gone to dust. Like Hart, another debt for her to shoulder.

“You all right?” Ravagin asked.

“Yeah. I just—” She sighed. “It wasn't supposed to work out this way.”

“What way is that? Happily ever after, with all the spirits of Karyx seeing the error of their ways and turning over a new page? Come on, Danae—you know the real world doesn't work that way. Personally, I think all three of us getting out of this alive is a thoroughly rousing success.”

“Hart's injuries and your unemployment notwithstanding?” she asked, a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice.

Ravagin reached across the table and took her hand. “We're all alive, and we've freed Shamsheer from the demon threat. Concentrate on that.”

She took a deep breath. He was right, of course. “It still hurts. A lot.”

He squeezed her hand tightly. “Learning how to hurt without giving up is part of what it means to be an adult.”

She managed a smile. “That hurts, too.”

A waiter appeared, and Danae realized she'd completely forgotten to look at the menu. No matter. “We were in here a few days ago,” she told him. “We'll have the same meal, only for two this time.”