The Prophet of Panamindorah - Complete Trilogy Page 18

  Instantly, the soft light of dawn broke around him. Up here, the mist was not nearly so thick. Corry shut the door with a sigh of relief and looked around. I should have made her specify where on the roof to meet, he realized. Corry wandered along the garden paths, becoming increasingly impatient. At last he called, “Capricia! Capricia, where are you? It’s Corry!”

  His voice seemed to fall heavily in the moist air. The hair along the back of his neck rose, but when he turned around, he saw no one. Finally Corry rounded a corner and found himself on the edge of the building. The guardrail came only to his knees, and he stared past its polished surface into the misty city. He turned again to the garden. “Capr—!”

  Not ten paces away stood a black leopard, head low, yellow eyes fixed on Corry.

  At that moment he heard an answering call, soft, but urgent. “Corry? I’m over here. Keep your voice down. I think that we’ve been foll— AAAEEEHHHHH!”

  Her scream made him jump. The cat sprang.

  Corry dove to one side and pounded into the trees, shouting. “Syrill! Anyone! Help! Capricia!” He could hear a commotion somewhere to his right, and Capricia screamed again.

  Corry blundered out of the shrubbery onto a footpath. Only then did it occur to him to draw his sword. Cursing himself, he ripped it from the scabbard and looked up and down the path. The leopard was nowhere in sight, but he could hear something in the underbrush. Then he saw Capricia. She was running down the path towards him at top speed with Lexis not six paces behind. Corry brandished his sword, but the tiger and the fauness shot past him. Capricia glanced over her shoulder. “Get out of here, Corellian! Go to Meuril; hurry!”

  That’s lunacy, Capricia, you’d be dead by the time I get to Meuril! Corry looked back and saw Syrill sprinting after them with drawn sword. “Corry, get down to the street and get help. This is not going to end well. Go on, or you’ll be killed.”

  Corry shook his head. “I think they’ve already locked us in. I heard—”

  Another ear-splitting scream, followed by a great roar and snarling. Syrill sprang towards the sounds, and Corry followed. The faun was quicker, and Corry soon lost sight of him. Seconds later, he broke from the trees, again on the edge of the building. A short distance in front of him Corry saw Syrill and Ounce. The faun had drawn his sword, and the snow leopard’s lips rose above his gums, baring his long white teeth. Round and round they went, the cat lashing with its claws and Syrill with his sword.

  Corry didn’t know what to do. Then a movement to his left attracted his attention. Lexis stood in the open grass between the railing and the trees. His white and black ruff bristled, and his lips rose in a snarl. Between his huge paws lay Capricia. Even from this distance, Corry could see that she was very still. Her brown hair fell in a cascade about her body like a broken doll’s.

  Corry charged towards them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black leopard emerge from the shadow of the trees. He tried to turn, but the cat was already in the air, and then its weight punched into him. Corry felt the back of his knee smack the guardrail. The leg crumpled under him. He had a brief moment of satisfaction as he felt his sword enter flesh. Then it was jerked out of his hand as the leopard pushed away snarling, and he lost what little balance he had left. Corry got a brief, whirling image of several upright shapes hurtling out of the trees. Then he toppled backwards over the side of the building.

  He had only enough time to wonder one thing: Am I over the river or the pavement?

  Then he hit the water. Corry was conscious of scraping the bottom of the river, of turning over and over in the blackness, of swimming desperately for the surface and hitting his head on the bottom of a boat. Then he could no longer decide which way was up. He was drowning.

  Next moment his head broke the surface and he gagged and spit water and gulped air. He was clinging to the slimy chain of a boat’s anchor. Gratefully, shivering, Corry began to climb up the chain. Something struck him in the kidneys, and he fell back with a cry. Corry caught a brief glimpse of a long, scaly tail. An alligator. Then it hit him again, and he lost his grip.

  Corry slipped once more into the current, but this time he kept his head. He had already lost his boots, and he was able to tread water. He tried to swim towards shore or at least get hold of a boat or anchor chain, but each time, the alligator cut him off and sent him spinning back into midstream. It did not attempt to attack him or to bite him, but it would not let him gain the shore. The river looked much broader from eyelevel than it had looked from the bank, and the fog was dense. “Help!” he shouted. “Somebody help me! I’m in the river!”

  But either no one heard him or no one could find him in the fog. The current quickened. Corry heard a gushing hiss, growing ever louder.

  No! I didn’t come through all this to die now. He struck out hard for the shore, cutting across the current. He could just see the bank. His mind’s eyes described for him the things he could not see in the fog: the bridge arching over the river high above him. Perhaps even now shelts stood there talking as he and Syrill had talked yesterday morning.

  Confused lights danced along the shore. Soon he would be in sight of shelts and then surely the alligator would not dare to keep harassing him. The creature was just playing with him. It was a joke, a cruel joke, but not a serious one. Perhaps it would even tow him to shore now that it had him so close to the waterfall.

  Smack!

  This time it picked him up bodily in its jaws and flung him back into midstream. He thought he saw a shelt rise out of the water on its back, and he thought he heard a voice float after him, “Give our regards to Danda-lay, iteration!”

  And then he saw the bars looming up out of the fog ahead, the water seething white around them. Yes, the bars, thought Corry. I’ll grab one as I go by. Soon the sun will come up and burn off this mist, and then someone is bound to see me.

  He steeled himself, trying to quiet his body in the chilly water, flexing his fingers. The bars were much larger than they had looked from the bridge, big around as the mast of a ship. Closer. Corry’s hands shot out. He wrapped his arms around a bar, then his legs. The current tore at him. He gasped. He could feel slime on the bar—slipping. “Help!” he shouted and got a mouthful of water. He clenched his whole body, but the current was prying him loose as a child might tease a shellfish off a rock.

  Then Corry was free in the water, his muscles spasming. For the third time in two watches, he fell from a deadly height. This time, no one caught him.

  END BOOK I

  Book II Wolflings and Wizards

  Part I

  Chapter 1. The Ripples Begin

  How rude of them to start a war without telling us.

  —remark attributed to Kietsis during the wizard wars

  Just as the sun was growing strong on the walls of Danda-lay’s palace, an astonished door-shelt admitted a bloody, bedraggled wood faun, dripping with sweat and mist water. He was still wearing his hat with a green plume.

  “Syrill? What happened to—? Wait! You can’t—! At least let me announce you—!”

  By the time Syrill arrived at the dining hall, he was trailing half a dozen palace shelts, all politely dissenting. Pleasant voices, laughter, and the clink of utensils died as the dignitaries caught sight of Laven-lay’s general. He walked to his king and spoke into the stunned silence. “Meuril, Lexis has taken Capricia.”

  * * * *

  “How can you be sure the Raiders are in Selbis?” In the dawn light, Chance hefted his pack onto his deer.

  Laylan grunted. “All kinds of things.” He was busy dusting away the last traces of their night’s camp on the old Triangle Road. They had not yet reached sections of intact paving, but bits of broken stone pushed up here and there through the leaf mold. “The dagger that belonged to Gabalon is Fenrah’s,” continued Laylan. “Where would she have found such a thing?”

  “That doesn’t mean Selbis is their den.”

  Laylan mounted Shyshax and they all started west. “Fauns
think the place haunted and never go near it. I’ve searched the city before, but only for obvious clues—wolf scat and tracks. I never found anything, but I shouldn’t have expected to.”

  Chance frowned. “You never told me about it.”

  “I didn’t think you were employing me to trouble you with my every false start and wrong turn. I thought you wanted me to catch them.”

  “I do.”

  “In that case—” began Shyshax. Laylan reached down and clamped a hand around his muzzle. The cheetah’s tail twitched a couple of times.

  Laylan cleared his throat. “I suggest you go back to Lupricasia and let me do my job.”

  Chance shook his head. They had been over this the night before. “I’ve let you alone for the past two years, and you’ve not—”

  Shyshax’s tail was lashing furiously, and even Laylan nearly lost his temper. “If you had done as I advised, Sham would be dead now, perhaps all of them!”

  Chance inclined his head. “That’s true. I was wrong.”

  Laylan released Shyshax’s mouth in surprise.

  Chance continued. “This time, I will do as you suggest, which I suspect will mean killing them on the spot. I want to be there. I want to see this den. Now, please, tell me why you discounted Selbis before.”

  Laylan hesitated. “I had a notion the Raiders were in a faun city. They’re getting expensive equipment from somewhere, and the few bribes I’ve traced were extravagant. They’re also distributing fine weapons, medical supplies, and food to other packs. The sum total of their known raids can’t account for even a tenth of the value. Also, the Raiders disappear completely during the worst months of winter—a time when other packs are most vulnerable. The Raiders don’t seem to need to hunt. I suspected they had a wealthy faun patron, probably in Port Ory, who was also their host. Once, I even suspected Danda-lay.”

  Chance stared at him. “You mean a cliff faun is—?”

  “Selbis, though...” Shyshax interrupted. “That’s more like our lady.”

  “Your what?”

  It was Laylan’s turn to lash his tail. “He means Fenrah. She doesn’t like to hide under faun protection if she can help it. Selbis would be a city all her own, a haunted fortress. It’s large enough to store quantities of food and supplies. If you look at their raids, look at the pattern, you can see Selbis is the hub. They never attack the closest towns because they don’t want to draw attention in that direction, but none of their attacks came more than three day’s journey from the city. Laven-lay is two days away, one if you push. Port Ory is the same distance, and so is Danda-lay. The Tiber-wan and all its traffic are an easy day’s travel. Selbis makes a perfect den, though I still suspect a wealthy faun patron.”

  Chance ground his teeth. “I want that faun. Perhaps the den will give us some clues.” He thought for a moment. “So, you think we can catch them? Only the two—” He glanced at Shyshax with distaste. They had never gotten along. “Only the three of us?”

  Laylan pinched Shyshax’s ear before he could say anything. “We must surprise them to have any chance at all. No pun intended.”

  Chance didn’t smile. Puns on his name never amused him. “But even if we did surprise them, eight wolflings and their wolves against two shelts and a cheetah are poor odds.”

  “I didn’t mean we could take them all in a fight,” said Laylan. “All we need to do is kill Fenrah. If that happens, I think the Raiders will fall apart.”

  * * * *

  “Syrill, what are you saying?” Meuril had gone very pale.

  “I saw it, Sire! Lexis tricked her, trapped her, and abducted her.”

  “Dain,” Meuril spoke to one of his aids, “go see if the princess is in her chambers.” The king folded his hands. “What happened, Syrill?”

  “Corellian the iteration traveled with me to Lupricasia. He is, as you know, a friend of Capricia’s. Yesterday evening she contacted him, saying that she was in danger. She seemed frightened and wanted Corry to meet her privately. He asked for my help, since he is not a skilled fighter. I agreed to come, but secretly, since Capricia had requested privacy.

  “This morning I went to the arranged meeting place: the roof of the hotel Unsoos on the banks of the Tiber-wan. The roof is a garden, and as I walked through the trees, I stumbled across the body of Capricia’s doe. Her throat had been mauled. Of course, I was immediately worried. I began calling for Capricia. She answered me from across the garden, but before she could reach me, the cats found her. I heard screaming and growling.

  “By the time I found her, Lexis had already done something to her. She was on the ground at his feet. I tried to reach her, but Ounce attacked me. At that moment Corellian appeared and tried to help the princess, but a black leopard charged him and knocked him over the railing. He seems to have fallen into the river. The fall should not have been fatal, but I searched for him briefly on my way here and couldn’t find him.

  “I saw Lexis lift Capricia in his mouth, and at that point Ounce overpowered me. I hit my head against the railing and lost consciousness. I couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few minutes, but when I woke, they were gone.”

  A heavy silence. Meuril looked suddenly very old.

  Dain reentered the room. “Sire, the princess is not in her chambers. The palace watch reported a cloaked shelt, possibly a fauness, having left this part of the building shortly before dawn. I have sent runners throughout the city. So far no one has located Capricia.”

  Meuril rose. “Find Lexis and bring him here at once.”

  * * * *

  Tolomy Alainya lay curled in a sunbeam. The orange and black tiger cub stirred in his sleep, pawing the goat hair cushions beneath him. The room had been chosen and adapted for cats: a low drinking bowl, large windows not far from the ground, and a profusion of cushions spread about the floor. The doorknob had been removed from the door.

  It swung open as a white cub bounded into the room and landed on Tolomy. He let out a spitting hiss. “Hush!” growled Leesha. “I’m not killing you, Tol. We’ve got to leave right now.”

  The orange cub went limp. “You know it scares me when you—”

  Leesha rolled to the floor. “Everything scares you. Let’s go!”

  Tolomy rose and stretched. “Go where?”

  “Into the forest.”

  “Why?”

  “Father told me.”

  “Where’d you get the chain?” He stared at the delicate gold links around her neck. “Is that what hit me in the ear just now? It felt heavy.”

  “I’ll explain later.” She grabbed his scruff and tried to march him towards the door, but he was considerably larger and pulled away easily.

  “Leave Danda-lay? Whatever for?”

  “Because Father said so!” Leesha was nearly spitting with frustration. “Haven’t you been listening? Hurry!”

  “Leesha, did Father really say this or are you just playing? If you’re telling the truth, why isn’t Ounce or Loop here to escort us? Father wouldn’t send us off alone.”

  Leesha leapt forward, grabbed her brother by the scruff, and shook him. She almost managed to get his feet off the ground. Tolomy growled, then cringed and hunkered down.

  “Now listen to me, brother. I don’t have time to explain everything. You and I have to get out of Danda-lay. Father’s in trouble, and we have to help him.”

  Tolomy stared at her. She sounded serious.

  Leesha started away at a run. Tolomy followed her through the hall and down a flight of stairs. As they reached the outer door, it opened to admit a black-furred faun. The stranger’s hand moved swiftly beneath his cloak, and Tolomy caught a glint of metal.

  Leesha charged between the faun’s legs, and her brother followed—out the door, down the steps, and into the sunlight. “Leesha, I think that faun was trying to—”

  “Kill us,” she finished. “Keep running, Tol.”

  * * * *

  Meuril paced the dining hall while Shadock stood silent at a window. Outside,
a furious search was in progress. Shadock cleared his throat. “Meuril, sit down. You’re tiring to watch.”

  “You’re not watching,” snapped Meuril, but he sat down at the end of the table.

  Shadock came to sit diagonally. They were nearly the same age, but as different as two shelts could be. Shadock had been a devilishly handsome youth—tall and broad, with the dark hair of the royal house and brilliant blue eyes. Age had peppered his hair, but his presence had grown, if anything, more formidable. He liked tournaments and strategy games and public display. Meuril had always been small and never handsome. He kept an informal court and liked to think his subjects could invite him over for tea.

  “She can’t go far,” said Shadock. “She’s a lone female—on foot if we are to believe that her doe was killed.”

  “Why would we not believe her doe killed?” asked Meuril icily.

  Shadock spread his large hands on the table. “Well. Capricia has had a propensity to wander in the past. I believe she was ranging through the woods unescorted when she brought that iteration home—the same one they’re looking for now.”

  Meuril focused steely gray eyes on Shadock. “She did not bring him home. Syrill did.”

  “Well, met him, then.”

  “My daughter has not run away!”

  Shadock demurred. “Of course not, but she might have taken a walk away from the city, even with Lexis—”

  “Syrill does not lie!” Meuril exploded. “Capricia does not ‘take walks’ from the city without telling someone. Something bad has happened, and I want her found. You may have dozens of children to lose, but I have only one!”

  Shadock went rigid. He took several deep breaths, then tried again. “Meuril, Capricia could not be made to ride unconscious, and no cat could walk through the gates of Port Ory carrying her in his mouth. We’ve no reason to think shelts are involved, and as long as that’s the case, she must still be in the city. They would have killed Syrill if they were planning to kill anyone. They wouldn’t kill Capricia, not if they wanted something from you, and no other reason for the kidnapping makes any sense.”