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from the shallow pool of water where he d paused for a drink. He listened
intently.
The wailing blat of the horns came again, from his left, the southwest. Dain
glanced at the gray clouds scudding low above the treetops, and tried to gauge
distance and time. He knew he must be nearly out of the Dark Forest. Rising to
his feet, he listened,
straining to hear hoofbeats.
Ah . . . yes, crashing like the muted thunder of a distant summer storm. That
meant the hunters were Mandrian, for no one in Nold hunted with such noise and
fanfare. Most especially not now, when the dwarf clans were at war, their
drumbeats throbbing late at night and the smoke from burned-out burrows
hanging in the air.
Dain swallowed hard. Never before had he ventured this close to the border.
But now was no time to lose his courage. Thia s life depended on what he
managed to accomplish today.
Down deep within the knot inside his belly, he felt an ache of fearful
despair, but he ignored his emotions and set off at a ground-eating trot,
determined to get help for his injured sister.
Dodging and darting through the undergrowth of dense forest, he angled toward
the approaching sound of the hunters.
If he was close enough to the border for men to be venturing into the forest,
that meant he was nearing settlements and villages, places where he could
steal food and perhaps a horse.
Sudden terror, alien and fierce, burst through his mind. With it came a stag
that burst from cover and bounded across Dain s trail. The animal passed so
close to him that he saw the blood splattering its dusty coat, the heaving
flanks, the white of its eye, the dark pink flare within its nostril.
Awash in fear and pain, the creature s mind swept across Dain s, making him
stagger to one side and grip a tree trunk for support. Dain closed the stag s
senses from his own, shaking his head to clear it.
Seconds later, he heard a deep baying sound that made the hairs rise on the
back of his neck. A pack of tall, brawny red dogs came crashing through the
thickets and closed in on the faltering stag.
Dain felt the purposeful flick of their minds:
chase/chase/ chase/chase.
He dived for cover, for now the horses and riders were upon him, crashing and
blundering through the undergrowth and trees. They were shouting and blowing
their horns in great excitement. One rode past Dain so closely he was nearly
hit in the face by the rider s spurred foot.
In a heartbeat, they thundered past, kicking up dirt and leaves behind them.
He left his cover and followed them, knowing the stag could not run much
longer.
Indeed, only a few minutes later the stag went down in a small clearing. The
dogs leaped on it with yelps and snarls. For a moment there was milling
confusion while the hunters beat off the dogs. Someone shot an arrow into the
stag s creamy throat. The noble creature turned its gaze toward its killer for
a moment, then its head sank to the ground and it lay still.
Whooping, the hunters surrounded their prey. They were four youths, each about
Dain s own age. Richly dressed in velvet cloth and furs, gilded daggers
gleaming at their belts, their bows held slack in their hands, they slapped
each other on the back and congratulated each other. Three older men in chain
mail and green surcoats without crests and one muscular man wearing the
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crossed-axe crest of a protector stayed in the saddle and watched the
proceedings silently.
Dain crept closer, focusing all his attention on the bulging saddlebags of
finely worked leather. He could smell food inside the pale tender bread baked
in a puff, wedges of cheese, hanks of cold meat all wrapped in neat
waxed-linen bundles. His own hunger was like a living thing inside him,
driving him forward, almost making him forget caution.
With his mind, he stilled the nearest horse, turning it around and luring it
toward him at the edge of the clearing. Snorting, the handsome animal tossed
its head and came
forward a few steps, then nibbled at a few blades of grass before coming
another few steps closer. Finally it stopped and began to eat in earnest, its
reins dragging on the ground.
Dain admired its sleekness, seeing how well groomed and cared for it was. Its
splendid leather saddle and cloth alone would bring a fine price. Dain could
sell the trappings and the horse for enough gold to support him and Thia for a
year. But most of all, he wanted the food in those saddlebags.
Hovering at the edge of the thicket, Dain dared not venture into the open.
Keeping a wary eye on the armed men, he crouched close enough to a tangle of
briars for the thorns to snag his tattered clothing, and used his mind to lure
the horse into coming yet closer.
The young hunters joked and yelped in high spirits. The largest one, with
shoulders as burly as a grown man s, passed around a wineskin with a furtive
giggle while another boy knelt to dip his fingers in the stag s blood. He
smeared crimson streaks across his face, then marked the faces of his
companions.
Fascinated despite his sense of urgency, Dain stared at these Mandrian youths,
who were his own age and size, yet as different from him as night from day. He
had seen
Mandrians before, of course. Jorb had done much trade with the nobles, who
valued a well-crafted sword. But it was seldom that Dain saw boys of such
wealth and magnificence, with such beautiful horses and fine leather tack.
Bold youths indeed, to enter the Dark Forest after game. Dain had heard many
tales among the dwarves, tales of the foolish Mandrians who quested in the
Dark Forest for the legendary Chalice of Eternal Life or the mythical Field of
Skulls, which Jorb said was no place for any common mortal to see. Such
searchers often failed to return. The Dark
Forest was a mysterious place, full of impenetrable sectors and traps for the
unwary.
Even the dwarves knew there were parts of the forest where no living creature
should go.
But these young hunters laughed and sucked blood from each other s fingers and
boasted, each claiming in turn to have shot the arrow which first wounded the
stag. The red dogs twisted and circled among them, panting and whining for
attention. Dain returned his concentration to the horse, which would not quite
venture to the edge of the clearing, despite all his enticements. Perhaps he
should risk being seen. If he mounted the horse, he could outrun the others
and lose himself quickly in the dense undergrowth.
After all, what harm could such boys do him? They were nothing but brave talk
and blowing wind. Right now they were discussing whether they should break off
the stag s antlers or cut off its entire head. The rich, wasteful fools
weren t interested in its flavorful, dark meat or the beauty of its hide.
A corner of Dain s mind urged him to wait out of sight, safe and quiet, until
they left with their prize. Then he could help himself to all the venison he
could carry. He knew how to build a slow, smoking fire, how to cut the meat
into strips and dry it into leathery jerky.
Wait, he cautioned himself.
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But the horse was so close. A fleet-footed, strong animal that would carry
Thia to a village large enough to support a healer. The Bnen arrow point had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]