The Stricken Field (4 page)

Slowly the eastern sky blushed pink. The trail became more visible.

Then it dipped to a shadowy ford where a frothing tributary clattered over pebbles on its way to join the Frelket. Thrugg halted in the middle, calf-deep in the icy water. The others pulled up also, and the horses dipped their heads to drink. They were too hot for much of that, of course, but to use sorcery to dissuade them would be utter folly and the only alternative was to overrule the troll, who must have some reason for stopping there.

He was a massive bulk in his all-enveloping sackcloth, panting hard like a dog, long tongue hanging out over huge teeth, but for a moment his image showed in the ambience, a solid mass of muscle, grinning ferociously.

"Turn off here, sir. "

"I thought the trail went a lot farther," Rap said aloud. "It does. We don't. There's a shortcut. "

A troll shortcut through the Mosweeps was a concept to chill the blood, but it would be better than falling into the hands of the Covin. Furthermore, sorcery was not the only danger. There would certainly be mundane pursuit by morning. Dogs would lose the scent in the water, and hopefully the legionaries would follow the horses' tracks, at least for a while. Abandoning the road made good sense, therefore.

"I'll send the ponies on, " Thrugg added. All three horses stood at least sixteen hands high, but they did look like ponies beside him. He lifted Norp easily to the ground. Rap did not think he could have done that, child though she was.

But if the three barefoot trolls could stand in the stream, then he could. He slid out of the saddle. Icy water surged over his knees and filled his boots with a rush of agony. He shuddered.

"Now will you take this Evil-begotten sorcery off me?" Andor shouted, making no effort to dismount. He had been demanding that release even before the fugitives left Casfrel. He wanted to disappear out of this hardship and danger. For the first time in more than a century he could not call one of his sequential companions to take his place, for he could not invoke the ancient spell while cloaked in Ainopple's shielding.

"I can't risk it," Rap said.

"If you're leaving the horses, you don't need me! Darad'll do better on foot than I will."

Andor did not add that Darad also had a lot more courage. To be exact, Rap thought, Darad was just too stupid and too much a jotunn to be afraid of anything.

"I know that, but if I free you I'll rattle the ambience. I'm not even sure I can."

"Thrugg then?"

"He's better, but it's still a risk." "He freed you!"

"But that was hours ago. The Covin must have arrived by now. They must be looking for us."

It was very strange that Zinixo's minions had not arrived already. Perhaps they were secretly watching and laughing and biding their time, but there had been no sign of sorcery back at Casfrel since the fugitives departed. Ainopple must be still asleep, unaware that her prisoners had escaped and unaware of the other danger, which threatened her just as much as it did them.

Thrugg waded over to Andor's horse and grinned up at him. As a threat that grin would make a notable nightmare, yet it was completely misleading. Despite his monstrous jaws and bovine muscle, the big man was as gentle as a rabbit.

"You ... want us ... to leave you, sir?" If a horse could speak, it might produce something like that slurred trollish mumble.

Andor flinched. "No." He slid from the saddle and stumbled on the pebbles. Thrugg's huge paw shot out and steadied him.

Rap had eased his horse's girths and tied the reins back out of harm's way. Shivering as his legs froze, he splashed over to Norp's mount and did the same for it.

The ambience flickered. He swung around instinctively to stare back down the valley, but of course mundane senses could detect nothing.

Thrugg chortled like a feeding lion.

"What's happening?" Andor demanded shrilly.

"There's a fight going on," Rap said. He could not make out the details. "Thrugg?"

"The mistress was awake. She's giving them something to think about! Oo! See that? "

"Some." Rap turned to Andor. "The Covin's trying to subdue Ainopple. She's playing for keeps."

Andor wailed. "But she'll lose?"

"Certain to, in the end. But it's a standoff at the moment. Like men with ropes trying to capture a man with a sword . . ." He shifted as the din increased. "She's a real fireball, though, no matter what she looks like."

"Then they'll turn her, of course? She'll lead them to us?"

"It's possible," Rap said. Indeed, it was highly probable that the Covin would transfer the sorceress' loyalty from Olybino to Zinixo, for then she would cooperate. "Maybe not right away, though. They may just subdue her and take her back to their master." She was very old, so the usurper might choose to force her words of power out of her for someone else's benefit, and then kill her. Rap was more worried that the Covin already knew about the other sorcerers in the area, Thrugg and himself. There was a very slim chance Zinixo's press gang would be satisfied with Ainopple, if their watchers had not been close to Casfrel.

"Shall I release your friend, sir? " Thrugg asked. "Should be safe right now, with all that going on. " "Good idea," Rap said.

With a faint occult pop, Andor's shielding vanished. He said, "Ah!" and disappeared in another faint flicker of sorcery. His clothes rent noisily as Darad's mighty form materialized within them. The jotunn roared in disgust at the icy bath around his legs. The horses shied and the two female trolls cried out in alarm.

"Rap!" Even for a jotunn, Darad was big-a scarred, tat- tooed, flaxen-haired giant. Although Rap had replaced his front teeth once, at some point in the last twenty years he had lost them again. Now he grinned like a hungry wolf and lurched forward through the water, hairy hide exposed under his rags, huge arms outstretched to embrace his old friend. Nobody could ever make Thrugg seem goodlooking, but Darad came about as close as possible.

"You old villain!" Rap gasped as he was lifted bodily in that crushing bear hug. Heavy with water, his left boot fell off, and the other tried to.

"Old times!" Darad chortled. "You got trouble so you send for me, right? Bash some heads, right?"

"Put me down! Thank you! Now, meet Master Thrugg, and Mistress Urg, and . . . "

God of Fools! Darad was glowering at the troll. Rap had never considered that the warrior might have the same sort of racial prejudice as the slave-owning imps of Casfrel, but brains were not his strong point. If he was going to treat the sorcerer as subhuman, then there might be very considerable trouble in store.

"Not as big as Mord was," Darad growled. "Can he fight or is he one of those sissy ones?"

Thrugg's muzzle opened hugely. "Try me." He spread his arms and drooped into a wrestler's crouch.

"Hold it!" Rap shouted. He had retrieved his boot, but both his legs were going to fall off at the knees soon. The battle in the ambience was flaring brighter and noisier, obviously headed for a climax as the Covin brought its stupendous power to bear. "Roughhousing can wait until later. Let's get going before I freeze. Urg, Norp, this is Darad. Now come on, all of you. Shoo those ponies, Thrugg. Then lead the way."

Darad was a sadistic killer with the brains of a crocodile and the loyalty of a pit bull just the sort of companion a man needed in a tight spot. He would be useless against sorcery, of course, but very functional if the legionaries came in pursuit.

And the old rascal would be really handy if there were bears around.

At Kribur, Gath was walking across the dwarvish camp in the dark, helping Kadie around the obstacles-tent ropes and ditches and things. Mom was following close behind. They were doing much better than their guards, except for the ones with lanterns. He couldn't see in the dark like a real sorcerer, but he knew which steps meant fall down and which steps did not, so his prescience was almost as good as farsight for this sort of thing. It was hard work, though, and giving him a headache.

He was glad to have his clothes on again. Most of them weren't his, just things he'd picked up in the last week, some of them bloody or burned at the edges and smelly, but it was nice not to feel like a shelled oyster.

Morning was near. The moon was just setting, a blur in the clouds. Snowflakes swirled in the air. There was a lot more daylight here than there was back north in Krasnegar at this time of year. He had stayed up all night! He had never done that before. He and Kadie had tried once or twice, and they'd always fallen asleep without meaning to. Tonight Kadie had slept for a while during the long arguments and the waiting, but he hadn't. It was a funny feeling, sort of dizzy-making.

"Where are we going, Gath?" They'd been told not to talk, but there was no one close enough to hear Kadie's whisper.

"To a little house." "Why? What happens?"

She was scared. So was he, but he must try to sound brave and cheer her up. His new man-voice was good for that.

"That's where they're going to have their meeting. Don't know what happens inside, though." It was a creepy feeling. He could foresee arriving at the cottage, but when he went inside everything stopped, as if someone was waiting there to bang him on the head with a club. He'd had prescience for almost a year now and he felt blind when it was taken away like this. Fortunately, he'd met that same blankness before, home in Krasnegar. When he was going to leave the castle, he could not see what would happen outside. Outside, he could not tell what would happen when he went in again. Whenever Brak had come hunting for him, he'd had no warning until Brak actually stepped through the gate.

"Why not?" Kadie sounded annoyed, as if he were being difficult. A year ago she'd been taller than he. Now he was a lot taller than she was. He was turning out jotunnish like his coloring, going to be a big man. Bigger than Dad, even, perhaps.

He tried to explain about the castle back home, and how Dad had said it was because the castle was shielded, magicproofed the way a boat was waterproofed with tar. Obviously this runty little building was shielded, too. That seemed to have been what the arguments had been about, or some of them. The old goblin Long Runner had insisted that they all go to this cottage to hear what the imperor wanted to tell them. Some of the dwarves had argued a lot, but Death Bird had agreed with the old man and won in the end. So now everyone was walking to the cottage.

Gath steered Kadie around a pile of firewood. "Must be a sorcerer's house," he concluded. "Or it was a long time ago. Shielding lasts a long time, Dad says." Nice to sound knowledgeable.

"You knew about the goblins!" Kadie said crossly. She was grouchy because she had been asleep, and perhaps because she was tired and frightened. He wasn't going to lose his temper with her, though, at least not before they reached the cottage.

Tricky ditch here . . . "What goblins?"

"When Brak knocked you out, you told Mom about the goblins at Kinvale. We didn't believe you."

"Don't remember." "Well, you did!"

"Must have foreseen it outside then." He'd had his fight with Brak at Oshi's house, outside the castle. Maybe he'd foreseen the goblins then and been too busy to notice. Now he had stopped hurting, he could chuckle when he thought of the fight with Brak. It had been worth being knocked out although not worth what had happened as a result. Maybe it had been silly. He thought Dad would say so, if he knew.

"Wasn't it wonderful how Mom saved the imperor?" Kadie sighed. "Just like Princess Taol'dor rescuing Prince Ozmoro from the cannibals!"

Gath hoped the imperor stayed saved. The meeting in the cottage must be going to last a long time, because he couldn't foresee coming out again.

The little house must have more magic than just a shielding spell on it; it was the first unburned building Gath had seen since leaving Krasnegar. Just two rooms with stone walls and a thatched roof, it stood a short distance outside the dwarves' camp, all by itself. If there had been sheds or fence or trees, they had gone for firewood. Now there were guards all around it, to protect the goblin king and the dwarvish general when they arrived. Light shone welcomes in the little windows, and the wind swirled sparks from the chimney pot.

Stepping inside, into brightness and heat, was a real shock for Gath. Prescience crashed in upon him-all the things that were going to be said. He couldn't sort it all out. It was like waking up and trying to remember everything that had happened the day before all at once. One of the dwarves was ordering him to go to a corner ...

He spun around. "Mom! Dad's all right! The imperor met him in Hub-"

The dwarf threw him into the corner. He struck a wall and tumbled to the ground.

That hurt! He rolled upright with his jotunn blood bubbling. The dwarf had stopped being an armored soldier and was just an ugly, squat old man a lot smaller than Brak. Gath's legs twisted under him, his hands found purchase on the floor, and he was almost into a leap when Kadie flopped down on top of him.

"No! Gath!"

Then Mom huddled in on his other side and took a firm grip on his shoulders. Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was smart. Maybe he was just too tired. He didn't struggle much. He pounded the floor a few times with a fist and then forced himself to unwind. He gave Mom a smile and saw her relax, also. He didn't lose his temper very often, but it had been a long day and a man could only take so much from those bowlegged hairy runts ... He always tried not to behave like a jotunn. He knew that fighting an army of dwarves single-handed was the sort of thing that would make sense to a jotunn, but not to anyone else.

He stayed sitting on the ground between Mom and Kadie because there was no furniture. They weren't allowed to talk. Didn't matter to him-he had all the conversations for the next hour or two to foresee ... fore-hear?

Dad had gone to Hub and met the imperor. They'd parted before Winterfest, but Dad had been all right then. That was good! He squeezed Mom's hand to comfort her. Now Death Bird was arriving, with the old man, Long Runner, and another goblin, Moon Baiter. Stupid names! And General Karax had come in, and more guards brought the imperor. They'd untied him earlier and given him something to eat. He was still as filthy as a gnome, but he wasn't behaving like a prisoner in great danger. He looked pleased. He should! Without Gath's prescience he'd be a heap of charred pieces by now.