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justice. We make no distinctions out here."
Sleep followed dinner, and guards were posted. The horses were
corralled in the center of the camp, and one by one the lamps went out in
the Wildrunners' tents.
Mackeli usually slept at Kith-Kanan's side, and that night was no
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exception. Though the boy often slept soundly, the months he'd spent out
of the old forest hadn't completely dulled his senses; he was the first one
to sense something amiss. He sat up in the dark tent and rubbed his eyes,
unsure of what had roused him. He heard nothing, but he saw something
very odd.
Pink shadows wavered inside the tent. Mackeli saw his own hand,
washed pink by an unknown light. He slowly raised his head and saw that
a red circle of light showed through the tent's canvas roof. A glare of heat
on his face, Mackeli had no idea what the red glow portended, but he was
sure it wasn't friendly. He shook Kith-Kanan awake.
"Wha What is it?" mumbled the prince.
"Look!" hissed Mackeli.
Kith-Kanan blinked at the red glow. He brushed the long hair from his
eyes and threw back his blanket. In lieu of the sword he'd broken in the
wildwood, he'd brought along a fine new weapon. Mackeli drew his own
sword from its scabbard as, warily, Kith-Kanan lifted the flap on the tent
with the tip of his blade.
Hovering over the camp, about twenty feet in the air, was a ball of red
fire the size of a cart wheel. The crackling red light covered the camp.
Kith-Kanan immediately felt a prickling sensation on his skin when the
red glow touched him.
"What is it?" asked Mackeli wonderingly.
"I don't know & ."
The elf prince looked across the camp. The sentries were frozen, one
foot raised in midstep, mouths open in the act of giving the alarm. Their
eyes stared ahead, unblinking. Even the horses were rooted in place, some
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with hooves raised and necks arched in odd angles.
"They're all paralyzed somehow," Kith-Kanan said in awe. "This is
evil magic!"
"Why aren't we paralyzed?" Mackeli asked, but Kith-Kanan had no
answer to that.
Through the line of tents shadowy figures moved. Bloodcolored light
sparkled on naked sword blades. Kith-Kanan and Mackeli ducked down
behind a tent. The shadow figures came on. There were five of them. By
their clothing, features, and coloring, Kith-Kanan saw they were raffish
Kagonesti. He held a finger to his lips, warning Mackeli to remain silent.
The Kagonesti approached the tent Kith-Kanan and Mackeli had been
sleeping in minutes before. "Is this the tent?" hissed one of them.
"Yeah," replied the leading elf. His face was heavily scarred, and
instead of a left hand, he had a cruel-looking metal hook.
"Let's be done with it an' get outta here," said a third Kagonesti.
Hook-Hand made a snarling sound in his throat.
"Don't be so hasty," he advised. "There's plenty of time for the kill
and to fill our pockets besides."
With sign language, Kith-Kanan indicated to Mackeli that he should
circle around behind the band of magic-wielding killers. The boy vanished
like a ghost, barefoot and wearing only his trousers. Kith-Kanan rose to
his feet.
Hook-Hand had just ordered his men to surround the prince's tent.
The killers slashed the ropes holding the tent up. As the canvas cone
collapsed, the five killers waded in, hacking and stabbing through the tent
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cloth.
Suddenly, with a shout, Mackeli burst from concealment and bravely
attacked the gang. He ran the first one through, even as that elf was
turning to face him. Kith-Kanan gritted his teeth. Mackeli had attacked too
rashly, so the prince had to rush his own attack. With a shout, Kith-Kanan
entered the fray; he felled a mace-wielding killer with his first stroke.
Hook-Hand kicked through the slashed canvas of the fallen tent to get
clear. "That's him, boys!" he shouted as he retreated. "Finish 'em!"
From five, the villains were now down to three. Two of the Kagonesti
went for Mackeli, leaving Hook-Hand and Kith-Kanan to duel. The
scar-faced elf cut and thrust with deadly efficiency Snatching up a cut
length of rope with his hook, he lashed at Kith-Kanan. The knotted end
stung hard against the prince's cheek.
Mackeli was not doing well against the other two. Already they had
cut him on his left knee and right arm. Sweat sheened his body in the
weird crimson glow. When the killer on his left thrust straight at him,
Mackeli beat his blade and counterthrust into his opponent's chest. This
moment of triumph was shortlived. The other attacker stabbed Mackeli
before the boy could free his blade. Cold iron touched his heart, and he fell
to the ground.
"I got 'im!" shouted the victorious killer.
"Ya fool, that ain't the prince this is! Help me get 'im!" Hook-Hand
shouted back, out of breath.
But Mackeli managed to heave himself up with great effort and stab
his foe in the leg. With a scream, the Kagonesti went down. He fell against
Hook-Hand's back, throwing his chief off balance. That was all
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Kith-Kanan needed. Ignoring the flailing rope, he closed in and rammed
his blade through the assassin. Hook-Hand let out a slow, rattling gasp and
died as he fell.
Mackeli lay face-down in the dirt. His right arm was outstretched, still
clutching his sword. Kith-Kanan threw himself down by the boy. He
gently turned him over and then felt his own heart constrict. Mackeli's
bare chest was covered with blood.
"Say something, Keli!" he begged. "Don't die!"
Mackeli's eyes were open. He looked at Kith-Kanan, and a frown
tugged one corner of his mouth.
"This time & I can't obey, Kith," he said weakly. The life left his
body with a shuddering sigh. Sightlessly his green eyes continued to gaze
up at his friend.
An anguished sob wracked Kith-Kanan. He clutched Mackeli to him
and wept. What curse was he under? How had he offended the gods? Now
all of his family from the wildwood was gone. All gone. His tears mingled
with Mackeli's blood.
A sound penetrated Kith-Kanan's grief; the brute that Mackeli had
stabbed in the leg groaned. Kith-Kanan lowered the boy's body to the
ground and gently closed his eyes. Then, with a growl, he grabbed the
wounded mercenary by the tunic and dragged him to his feet.
"Who sent you?" he snarled. "Who sent you to kill me?"
"I don't know," gasped the elf. He trembled on his injured leg.
"Mercy, great lord! I'm just a hireling!"
Kith-Kanan shook him by the shirt front, his face twisted into a
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hideous mask of rage. "You want mercy? Here's mercy: tell me who hired
you, and I'll cut your throat. Don't tell me, and it will take far longer for
you to die!"
"I'll tell, I'll tell!" babbled the terrified elf. Kith-Kanan threw him to
the ground. The light from the fireball suddenly grew more intense. The
elf let out a scream and threw an arm over his face. Kith-Kanan turned in
time to see the fiery globe come hurtling at them. As he leaped aside, the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]