Into the Raging Mountains Read online

  It stopped in front of the door.

  Ilion reached with one hand for the fallen staff, just out of easy reach. With the other, he reached protectively for Alizarin's body, wishing beyond hope, cursing his ill-timed healing attempt, wanting to protect his friend, and certain his doom waited on the other side of the doorway. His hand came to rest on Alizarin's knee just as the door swung open.

  The darkness of the hallway was revealed both in character and in lighting. Standing, framed by the dooropening, was a unremarkable woman of average height and looks, although she wore a searching and then perplexed expression on her face at the moment. Without the staff, he could not tell who or specifically what she was. But he was pretty sure what she was not. She was not his friend.

  “Who are you, sir?” she demanded. “What do you do in here? Why are you in my room?” Glancing past him, to the unmoving girl on the bedcover, she smiled to herself. Then, masking her pleasure with a demanding voice, she charged, “What do you do to that girl? Having your fun in secret are you?” Nodding her certainty to her own conclusions, she raised one eyebrow, “Devious. Devious.”

  She winked at him. “Well, I never liked her much anyway. When you're finished with your deed, do clean up the room, please. Men are welcome to have their fun, but not to leave a mess in my house.” She casually started to turn away, heading back out the door.

  Ilion was appalled, and it must have shown.

  “What? Do you deny it then? Your basic urges flow across your face with such clarity, I don't even have to guess.” Pausing at the edge of the dooropening, she studied him closely. “Although, come to think of it, I never did catch your name, sir. Care to share it with me in repayment for the use of my bed?”

  His mouth hung open in shock and disgust, and bright embarrassment. What kind of base creature was this? She spoke so blithely of stealing virtue and honor from the helpless. Though an average woman in appearance, her conversational tone confused him. Had she mistaken him for someone else? Her question still hung in the air between them unanswered.

  Now, more sharply, she insisted, “Sir, your name?”

  Whatever power these fell creatures had, he certainly did not want to give it anymore by allowing it to address him by name. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered hearing a wise whisper about the power of names.

  This thing had easily devoured the woman in the other room. Whatever this creature was that addressed him, Ilion was certain it only toyed with him, waiting to pounce at his distraction should he turn his unwary back.

  “Still silent, I see. You are not the yokel you first appear to be. No name for me, then? Fine, NoName, so be it. How came you to this farmhouse, NoName? Do you look for a hiding place or a short resting spot?” All the while that she attempted to draw him into conversation, he searched frantically for any weapon to fight the impending attack. She was so confident in her power. The predator simply sought entertainment and information before she ate him alive. Still watching him beneath slitted eyelids, she gestured to Alizarin.“Do you know her? Are you her lover? Her brother? What do you want with her?”

  He answered her questions with silence, afraid of giving any hint or true information by responding to her baiting. Ilion waited for her confidence to give him a fighting chance. Her eyes seemed to see the whole room and pin him in his spot, not unlike a bug collector securing a new specimen.

  He waited.

  “Did you see her injury?” When he said nothing, she continued. “It will be quite a devastating little bite, quite devastating. Have you already tried to remove the barb? Has it sunk completely within her skin yet? Only one thing will recover her for you, and it is not something easily done.”

  Her laughter bubbled over, spilling from her cursed and cynical mouth like pollen blowing from a ripe flower's stamen. She glanced at Alizarin's body, unmoving on the bed, slipping quietly into death, relishing the destruction.

  Ilion chose his moment to act and dove for the staff.

  When she looked to the spot he had been pinned to, shock filled her face, replacing the confident cynicism and mockery that seemed to dwell there. She scrutinized the whole room searching for trace of the vanished man.

  Where is the fool? Ilion could read her thoughts as they crossed her glare. Frustration passed her face, and then suddenly relaxing her shoulders, his opponent started laughing, loud and strong. Almost braying her entertainment at this sudden turn of events. “Where will you go fool? Where can you hide?”

  Looking back to the bed, with predator eyes, she casually walked over toward Alizarin. Sweetly, softly, she asked, “Did you forget something in your haste to flee? Did you forget someone?”

  Lifting Alizarin's limp hand off of her chest, she licked the half-opened, non-responsive palm, licked it slowly, inhaling. Whispering, “Did you forget her, NoName? Well, no matter, I have her now.” She watched the room, waiting for his response. “Although, I am afraid I will not be returning her to you in like-new condition. A bit worse for the wear, perhaps.” Quizzically, “Unless … unless you want her? Will you come for her, now? Or flee to safety, you spineless runt?” Throwing Alizarin's unresponsive hand aside, she crouched watching, ready to strike.

  *

  Staff in hand, Ilion watched. He waited again for a slim opportunity, for the fleeting moment that might change the odds into his favor. With the powerful artifact again in his hands, it was not surprising that the woman who taunted him and held Alizarin captive was one of the carnivorous fell-birds. Holding the means of revelation, he listened to her cawing, teasing, taunts.

  Ilion knew this was a beast of foulness but he had never fought one himself. Looking back, Alizarin's way seemed much more economical: kill them all underhandedly, without direct combat. Not knowing its strength, Ilion could only pray that some kind of weakness would be revealed, some clear way to defeat their enemy. He could not hope to find a healing process to save Alizarin if he died first.

  Standing still, holding the Hunting Crane, he watched the obscenity play with his unconscious friend like a kitten with a caught mouse. He had the advantage of his cycles of training, and it was not too much later that the beast grew impatient. Its taunting became more and more desperate and insulting, less playful, and more demanding. The curses burned his ears, spewed venom and hatred, pustular and demeaning, attempting to force his hand and make him reveal his location.

  Motionless, Ilion watched the thing on the bed pick up Alizarin's hand, licking her palm in the most degrading manner, as if she was melting iced cream, delicately consumable. When that garnered no defensive response, the dark thing on the bed chose a provocation demanding action.

  Grinning like a seven-cycles-old child at her own birthingday party, the woman bit into Alizarin's hand, tearing off a chunk of flesh. Licking her lips as blood ran down her chin, relishing the salt and iron taste of fresh meat, she waited for the coming reaction.

  When nothing occurred, the woman-thing bent her head again, removing another chunk, this time from the fatty flesh of his friend's forearm. As she bent her head, pulling away the skin and fat with sharp teeth, grinding, Ilion struck.

  With all the contained power of his skill and the horror of what he witnessed now, he leveled a concise, blunt and terrible blow. Catching the beast cloaked as a woman at the side of the ribcage, the force behind the swing of the staff knocked the darkened creature off his friend's body, off the bed and slammed her against the wall.

  With no time left to him, Ilion grabbed Alizarin's bleeding body, throwing her over one shoulder. He watched the stunned terror in the corner shake its head, rising from the floor, eager, prepared to fight. She searched for her attacker.

  The staff's benefit of being invisible only worked well when no one involved in its protection was dripping blood. As each fat drop from Alizarin's wounds fell to the floor, puddling, the creature knew his exact location. Blood will not be hid.

  Ilion stood with his wounded friend on one shoulder and his staff in the other. It was not pre
cisely the best way to fight off the incensed night predator that watched the area where he stood with the evaluating eyes of a carrion hunter. Though his location was revealed, Ilion saw no reason to uncloak, needing to keep every advantage he could use. Those eyes already saw too much without being able to read his next thoughts from his fighting stance.

  He planned his strategy as best he could, but he was not ready when the woman-bird chose to launch herself directly at him. Great speed and suppleness masked her attack, cutting through the intervening space in less than a moment's breadth. Ducking the attempt with his balance intact, he watched his attacker fly over his upturned face, missing him by the space between beating butterfly wings.

  Readjusting his hold on Alizarin's body, he debated putting her down. That would make her visible and the pawn in every attack. Not an option as long as I can fight. Securing his grip, one-armed, on her leg, his hand rested on a heavily callused bump on her outer thigh. Nasty scar there, he thought. That was all he had time to consider as the bird beast rebounded her attack and returned with razor sharp claws outstretched, curling down, slashing the empty air.

  Pivoting on one leg in a deadly, graceful move, the monstrous thing charged again, intent on death, dismemberment, and killing blows.

  Contact.

  Two of her deadly sharp claws raked the skin of his back, cutting deeply, severing muscle from bone. Pain ripped his logic apart.

  The moment of her victory was upon him. He knew that he and Alizarin were lost to imminent destruction.

  The staff is not enough. The blinding light remained unsummoned.

  I have failed.

  They would perish in the space between two heartbeats.

  As his back burned with destruction and the sharp pain of deep wounds, he had no choice but to release the majority of weight from Alizarin's body from his shoulder, unable to support her.

  She fell in a pile on the bed, partially hidden by his own body. His grip still held her thigh as he wielded the staff in the general direction of the waiting beast, warding it off of its final goal. He waited for the attack and his responding feeble attempt to defend them both.

  But no attack came.

  Looking at the monster standing in its victory just out of arms reach, he saw something reflecting the blackness of its death-filled eyes. A tiny glow of intense yellow that was not unlike the flicker of a candle's flame. Turning his head to follow its gaze, he looked to the bed, where Alizarin lay, unconscious.

  The loose topaz gemstone had rolled off of the blanket and into her limp hand. The amber light emanated from there. Ilion looked back to the bird-monster who stood transfixed, held in some kind of thrall to the presence of the yellow power.

  As he watched them both, uncertain of the best action, he saw Alizarin's wounds bind themselves and heal over. In front of his disbelieving eyes, the nasty tears shrunk and closed, leaving no mark of the previous destruction. The black dagger of night that had so stubbornly clung to her shoulder, resisting his initial efforts to remove it, that shard of darkened power was pushed out of her shoulder, slowly but surely. The wound in her body was filled with healing yellow light which completely and adamantly rejected the malicious venom, discarding it.

  As the barb left contact with her skin and fell to the floor, Alizarin blinked.

  *

  “Theress? Theress, what happened to me?”

  Alizarin's voice came softly at first, and then gaining in strength, continued, “Where am I?” The face she recognized in the room, the form of the competent, trusted wife of Rethendrel stood not a body length away from the bed.

  “Theress?” Her plea to her friend went unanswered. Alizarin looked around the unknown room, turning her head, clearly discombobulated. “How did I get in here?”

  There was no answer.

  “It sure is cold. Where is my cloak? I was wearing it. Did you see it?” Trying to sit up, Alizarin closed her fist around the stone and the yellow light dimmed.

  With a jolt, Theress' eyes seemed to suddenly see Alizarin's, as if she was pulled out of a day dream.

  “Ah, Alizarin glad to see you are coming around. You took a nasty fall in the hallway. Gretsel and I carried you here.

  “I didn't see your cloak, but it must be here somewhere. Let me help you sit up.” Theress walked toward Alizarin's side, with purpose, intent on gaining her trust and reaching her bedside. Theress' hands were open and beckoning, as if she cared.

  Alizarin calmly pulled her arm from its semi-trapped position under her body and in one fluid movement, rolled over, half-sitting, one foot touching the floor. “Did you see this, Theress?” she asked innocently, holding her palm out. “Did you see this topaz I found?” As her fingers relaxed, gently opening, the wealth of the sun's light at midday flooded the room.

  The advance of Theress towards the bed stopped again, as the blazing power of the gemstone held her motionless.

  Alizarin looked into Theress' eyes, confirming what she had found in the barn. Emptiness. Whatever that thing in the room was, it was not human, and it was not her friend. Now, she needed to get away from here and this dangerous beast. Her awakening had clearly interrupted something.

  Why couldn't she move her leg? It was as if she was pinned to the bed by the very air in the room. Just my fortune, a monster in the bedroom and me stuck in bed. She tried to pull her leg from the side.

  Her hand felt something on top of her leg, weighing it down. Still looking at Theress who stood immobilized by the light of the topaz, Alizarin searched with her free hand, feeling her way across the burden. She could not see anything, but she had learned that meant very little in this topsy-turvy world.

  Gingerly, she felt with her available hand, patting the bedcover, her knee and the space between. There, is that hair? And shoulders? A man? Invisible? Could it be? “Ver?” she asked quietly.

  “Ah, Alizarin. You've found me.” His voice was a rasping whisper.

  Looking down at nothing, she said, “Are you all right, Ver?”

  Weakly, his answer rattled her. “I am a bit injured, I am afraid. Theress did a number on me. I don't think I can move my arms.”

  “You still have the staff, right?”

  “Yeah, a lot of good that did me. Led me right here, into this trap.”

  Pausing for a moment, he breathed slowly and regrouping, continued, “Can you heal me with the topaz?”

  She looked at the brightly glowing stone, and back to nothing where he lay. Something in her remembered the topaz could heal but she couldn't place how she knew it with such certainty. “Will it free the beast if I move it towards you?”

  “I don't think so, it seemed to freeze her in place when it awoke you from the poisoning of the black knife.”

  “The what?”

  “The dagger that Gretsel threw at you.”

  “Oh—Gretsel? Oh, yeah.” It vaguely came back to her memory, the vision of her friend's terrible choices and their consequences. Deep sadness washed over her heart. “What of Gretsel? What of the baby? Are they safe?”

  She was glad she could not see his face. The sorrow in his voice was powerful enough to bring tears splashing down, marking the bedcover with her regret. “I don't know, Alizarin. I just don't know. I dragged you out of the hallway to this nearby bed. Then, Theress did something in Gretsel's room. They argued. And then, then there was the sound of really loud chewing. I don't think it bodes well for your friend.”

  Alizarin looked appalled. The confusion on her face was marked by a loss of words. Silence held them both for moments. Alizarin finally said, “I truly don't understand why she did it.” Her head shook with sorrow at the betrayal. “Why did Gretsel call the darkness? How did she know how to do it, anyway?”

  Moving her cupped hand until it rested on her other wrist, she searched for his skin, hoping contact with his wounds would trigger some of the healing power the stone had already manifested. “Promise me if we figure out how to get out of this room and away from this beast of nightfall, th
at we will go look for Baby? Maybe we can still help them? I have to believe that there is hope for the innocent, that all is not lost.”

  She vaguely remembered a dream about her using the yellow stone or was it the ripe fruit of harvest? Something about it caused a nightmare monster to flee. Something in the way I held it, or in my desires? Now it seemed to actually hold a different kind of monster at bay, almost suspended in its blatantly devious actions towards Alizarin.

  Her fingers tripped over a deep cut in Ver's back. He grunted in pain. She felt blood, tissue, bone. A incapacitating death blow, for certain. Nonrecoverable in any circumstance. Except that she had the traveler’s well gift. The glow of the yellow light dimmed slightly. They anxiously watched Theress's captivity, aware that they were truly stuck between a rock and a sharp, hard, and deadly place.

  “Can I help you, at least? It would be easier if you were visible, you know.” she said quietly.

  “Well, I would, but the reason that I am invisible is underneath me.” He whispered, hating that Theress could probably hear him anyway. Why give anything away to a known enemy?

  Her questing fingers followed the deep tear in his back muscles, the merry light glimmering all the while. Slowly, oh so slowly, she felt the length and breadth of his back, her fingers gathering split tissue and the gemstone's light somehow was focused, directed, joining the wounds, stopping the blood, and energizing him. The conversation went on in bits and snatches, whispered as softly as possible, as they were ever aware that death was only momentarily, miraculously held at bay by the tiny light.

  *

  As his back healed, Ilion felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, for both her care and her patience. It was not every person who could adapt so quickly to changing situations and maintain such calmness in the face of imminent threat.

  Finally, her coupled hands had searched his back and shoulders and the torn rents in his skin and muscles were united and disappeared. He felt great. Although somewhat tired, oddly?

  His stomach complained again. Apparently a few crackers and some lukewarm parsimint tea did not do the trick long-term for his appetite. Too many days spent eating little but semi-rotten and shriveled apples had led his normally robust frame to a level of weakness and increasingly a driving hunger that chased away all other thoughts.