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They loped into the nighttime wood. Whenever they encountered
a creature-whether coney-fox or wumpus or red wolf-the
monsters fell upon it, tore it to pieces, ate their victim's
innards, and flung away bone and muscle to rot. Their claws
girdled ancient trees. Their talons tore up undergrowth. Worst
of all, they arrowed straight through the forest toward the
Cho-Arrim village.
"Just a nightmare," Orim said to herself, panting and
clutching a hand to her chest. Her bed of leaves and moss lay,
warm and familiar, beneath her. Solid walls of wood enclosed
her. Is-Shada's room was just down the corridor, and Cho-
Manno's beyond. She was safe. "Just a nightmare."
Feet came along the passage-probably Is-Shada, checking on
her.
"You are awake," came a man's voice, basso in the
darkness.
"Cho-Manno!" Orim gasped, grabbing a robe from a hook on
the wall and holding it over herself. "What are you doing-?"
"You dreamed it too," he interrupted. His eyes glinted in
the dark. "That's good. The Rushwood is getting its roots in
you."
"You had the same nightmare?"
"Yes. Mercenaries. Monsters. They must be caterans," Cho-
Manno answered. "But it was not our dream. It was Rushwood's.
And it was not just a dream. The monsters are coming."
Orim stood. "Where can we flee? They can run, and climb-"
"We do not flee. We fight. The forest awoke us to mount a
defense. Even now, it awakes other defenders-ancient things
that have not walked the land in centuries-but they rouse
slowly. We must go. We are the first line of defense."
"We?" Orim asked, astonished. "I'm not a fighter."
"You are a healer, like Ta-Karnst. The forest dreams in
you, as in him-chavala. Where there are fighters, there must
be healers."
Dropping her robe, Orim donned her healer's cloak, slipped
on her leggings and boots, and wrapped the turban about sleep-
tousled hair. "I'm ready."
"Good," Cho-Manno said, holding his hand out in the
darksome room. She saw then that he himself wore only a
loincloth. "My armor and sword wait by the door. Already, the
skyscouts and wizards are on their way." Orim took his hand.
It was strong and warm. A salty scent enveloped him. "Let us
fight for the Rushwood."
* * * * *
A coney-fox darted, shrieking. Ears lay back along its
shoulders. Gray haunches pumped furiously. Claws flung up the
mossy ground. Hunks of lichen smacked the fangs of its
pursuer.
The monstrous thing came on, heedless. Eyes glowed yellow
deviltry in the night. Mandibles thrashed hungrily. Four arms
raked out after its prey. Taloned feet tore the ground. A
barb-tipped appendage stabbed down, pinning the coney-fox's
bushy tail.
With another shriek, the terrified creature yanked free,
leaving half its tail behind. It bled. Each bound flung a
sanguine trail behind it. The monster would never give up now.
It would follow the blood path across the forest floor. It was
doomed. To ground-every coney-fox knew to go to ground to die.
It vaulted over a root tangle and scrambled down into the vast
hole that opened on the other side.
Darkness lay ahead. The silver glow of the tree trunks
receded. The coney-fox bounded down a worn trail among roots.
There was a strong smell ahead.
Another creature laired down here, a creature with massive
claws, a scaly gray hide, huge muscles-a crouched and
lumbering thing. Its mouth was filled with blunt, plant-eating
teeth. This beast was a protector. The coney-fox leaped
beneath it, flushing it from cover. The lumbering satyr jumped
up the side of the hollow just as the fanged monster plunged
down it.
The satyr lunged atop the cateran enforcer. Quicker and
crueler, the cateran bit open the beast's belly and started
feasting.
In its dying gasps, the satyr clasped the cateran's legs
and yanked them apart as though it were breaking a wishbone. A
messy moment followed, and then one dead beast collapsed atop
the other.
The coney-fox cowered silently below. More fanged horrors
vaulted over the pit and raced on into the deep forest.
* * * * *
By the time Orim, Cho-Manno, Ta-Karnst, and Ta-Spon
arrived at the battleground, the forest was bathed in blood.
Red shafts jutted from the bellies and brainpans of fallen
monsters-boar-headed men, demon-eyed beasts, four-armed
killers, things with scorpion tails, snake bodies, roach
legs.... They lay thick across the ground behind the battle
lines. Scores more had broken through, crashing against
hastily entrenched Cho-Arrim warriors.
Black armor bashed black carapace. Darting swords of bone
parried darting stingers of poison. The Cho-Arrim were
outnumbered four to one, but they bravely fought on. Unarmored
archers even waded into the midst, their arrows leaping a mere
arm's length to pierce fiendish eyes. The Cho-Arrim made a
valiant stand, but more inhuman monsters rushed from the dark
woods.
A four-armed monster ripped the armor from one warrior's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]