For Theris, the days had become an endless blur of sunrises, sunsets, eating, sleeping and defecating. Even the memories of his wife and daughter had begun to fade in the haze of empty hours. On rare nights, Asophra would appear in his dreams, demanding to know why he hadn't rescued her. Then the pain would return as fresh and sharp as the day his village had been attacked. The rest of the time, her memory-like the world around him-receded to little more than a fevered dream. The only time he felt alive was when he and his men were chasing gob-bocari.
Then, in the twilight hours of dawn and dusk, his pulse would quicken and his eyes sharpen. Even the scents of the wild brush and the moist soil of the un-cursed lands smelled richer at that time. He would stalk upwind sniffing, alert to the slightest whisper of gob-bocari stirring in whatever hidey-holes they had disappeared into during the day. When they were found, the Hunt would explode in a frenzied passion of violence and not stop until they had torn their prey apart with spears and knives.
The gob-bocari always ran to the west. It was as if some animal instinct told them that Theris would not cross the Pardos River. Several times the Hunt was left standing on the banks of that river watching the gob-bocari's round heads bobbing downstream. Theris never learned if they could swim, they certainly didn't seem to make any effort to, yet they would run straight into the water if the Hunt would follow them that far.
The Hunt zigzagged between the Pardos River and the Pelahi mountains, moving ever southward. They spent several days outside the river city of Dinuva Crossing, hiding in the brush and watching the people of that strange tribe come and go. Theris never suggested they enter that city, and though they only saw a small fraction of the population enter and exit its busy gates, he decided his wife and daughters were not likely to be found within. The Dinu didn't seem the sort of people to attack their neighbors and, the more he probed his faded memories, the more he suspected the beast-like men who attacked his village, might in fact have been gob-bocari.
Theris ran, sword in hand and teeth to the wind, as the Hung clambered over hills and crashed through hollows. They had left the last koria of men behind days before and the further away they got, the thicker the number of gob-bocari grew. When a creature fell or became trapped in a dead end, they finished it off with a quick thrust of the spear and raced on, herding the rest of the mob eastward, keeping them pressed against the foothills of the Pelahi.
Bursting through a thicket into river-swept clearing along the rocky shore of the Pardos, Theris heard an angry buzz and saw blurred glimpses of something like small birds striking down the gob-bocari. "Halt!" He called out and stopped, his men stopping next to him, though not before a man on his right was hit in the thigh with what looked like a small spear. The man dropped and the fleeing gob-bocari continued to fall as they tried to run away.
A dozen figures stood about fifty yards away on the opposite side of the clearing holding up short narrow staves. They all looked like youths in Theris' eyes, standing a little shorter than a full grown man, with slim athletic builds and unexpected poise. When the last gob-bocari fell, the short spears stopped flying, but the faeyn continued to hold their staves out as if unsure whether to attack the humans.
Theris lowered his sword and shuffled forward. The faeyn all turned toward him, keeping their staves between them and him. Theris barely noticed the faeyn, for standing in their midst, a little before the rest, was a young woman of such surpassing beauty that all else seemed to fade beside her.
She wore a simple short tunic of dun colored animal skin. She had long straight copper-colored hair pulled back in a tail, exposing the pointed ears that all living creatures that were not human seemed to have. Like the rest of her kin, she had large, upturned, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, a small narrow straight nose and a small pointed chin.
As Theris neared her, one of the faeyn shouted something in their language which sounded threatening. He dropped his sword and continued. As he drew within sight of her eyes, the other faeyn took a step towards him and raised their staves.
With a puzzled frown, the woman held out a staying hand and the other faeyn paused in trembling readiness.
Her eyes were a brilliant gold with copper striations and tiny flecks of green over deep brown shadows.
Theris shivered and dropped to his knees in gaping surrender.
<====|==|====>
Nebashi's broad form towered over Tarakae's table, his face an angry shadow. "They're not giving us the money."
Tarakae slid a bowl of beer to him, but he didn't take it. Tarakae knew it was going to be a bloody night. "Did you mark the building with the red hands?"
"Yes. But they just called for the city guard." Boah took the other drinking bowl, drained it, but didn't look satisfied. "This city guard is making them bold. More merchants are defying us. We're squeezing all the lesser merchants and tradesmen, but money is drying up."
Tarakae leaned back in his chair with a sigh and a nod. "Call the boys. I guess we'll have to make a statement."
Nebashi took the drinking bowl, drained it, set it down with a nod and left, Boah lumbering behind.
Pronos had been meeting Tarakae less often of late and brought more excuses than money for him to share with the mob he kept on a permanent simmer. Now their anger was about to boil over and if he didn't want to get scalded he needed to direct them at another target. If Pronos wouldn't listen, perhaps it was time to prod him in his one sensitive area-his precious city guards.
By the time the men had returned to the tavern later that evening, Tarakae had made his plans. The tavern was packed with large angry men-and several large angry women-drinking and complaining about their lack of jobs or money. Tarakae pounded his drum until the tavern quieted down and he had everyone's attention. Instead of drumming and chanting everyone into a frenzy, he stopped, sat on the edge of a table and spoke quietly to the group. They had to lean in close to hear his words. When he had finished explaining his plans, they quietly followed him out into the street.
Tarakae marveled at the purposeful hush of fifty or sixty pairs of feet moving across the cobblestones. In the past, the mob had seethed like an angry beast. Now it prowled like a hungry pardos stalking prey. It felt like a single organism with him as its beating heart.
They paused at the edge of the fishmonger's market. Thaezor, one of the wealthiest shipping merchants in Mari, had a large warehouse on the market's far side. Tarakae gestured to Boah who led a handful of men towards the warehouse while the rest of the mob lurked in a side street. The three men guarding the warehouse readied their spears and shouts echoed across the square as Boah shoved one of the guards. Soon they were all caught up in a brawl.
The mob made a noise like a restless growl and Tarakae held up a hand, signaling for them to wait until he heard more shouts and the pounding of boots. Guards poured into the square. Tarakae gave them a slight head start before signaling the attack. The mob surged forward with a quiet purposefulness. Tarakae waited for the angry roar to sound out, but the only noise he heard was the thud of clubs against flesh and the muffled cries of pain and surprise as the guards were beaten down as if by a mob of mute threshers.
One of the initial guards, having noticed the mob crossing the square at the start, managed to scamper away in the confusion. Tarakae didn't bother sending men to chase him. Having a witness to tell the tale to Pronos was probably a good idea. As the last guard fell, his men stood a moment in the spreading pool of blood, blinking as if awaking from a dream. Tarakae gestured to the warehouse's door. "There's your reward. Take it. You've earned it."
With an amused rumble, the men lumbered into the warehouse and began ransacking it.
Now we'll see what Pronos has to say about our share, Tarakae thought.
<====|==|====>
A pack of wolves followed Garanth through the blighted lands. The rangy half-dozen half-starved beasts followed him from down-wind, usually keeping a gray hill or two between them and him. Garanth trudged through the dust and ash at a measured pace, casting frequent glances over his shoulder. He thought he had identified six different animals, though he never saw more than two or three at a time. It's the one you don't see that gets you, he thought.
They had followed him all day, evidently hoping he would exhaust himself traveling through the wasted lands and make himself easy prey. But now he was nearing the edge of the blight. He slowed, expecting an attack before he could disappear into the brush covered hills in the east. A glance over his shoulder brought him up short. Six wolves stood out in the open on the crest of a hill behind him. Apparently they had given up following him. Puzzled, Garanth hurried to the edge of the grasslands and was startled by an attack.
At first all he saw were teeth and claws. Great spidery hands slashed at him, claws gouging furrows across the bronze plate of his armor, catching on the corners and nearly pulling him down. Garanth got his spear up, batting away spindly arms with its shaft. More creatures lunged forward with bulging eyes and mouths full of teeth. Tusks jutting from their lower jaws slashed at him.
They roared and he roared back, pivoted and struck out all around him. Slashing out with both spearheads, he cleared enough space to move properly and began stabbing-impaling ten gob-bocari in as many heartbeats. He paused to catch his breath, standing in a writhing bleeding circle of bodies, and looked up. At least a hundred gob-bocari had materialized out of the ground and stood crouching, staring at him with large glittering black eyes.
Garanth froze, then slowly inched his spear upward into the ready position. For one long moment, no one moved. Garanth took a deep breath knowing it might well be his last. Then, in an explosive flurry of movement, the gob-bocari turned and ran. They disappeared into the brush of the nearby green lands in seconds, leaving Garanth gasping and weak with relief.
He walked into Korion-Diochis virtually unnoticed.
Karux was reluctant to interrupt his plans, but after Garanth explained their plight, he agreed to send Garanth back with ten hands of hands, nearly all the new-trained spears he had. "When will you leave for Kerwyn'sHill?"
"Immediately. They will not last long without help."
"In that case, before you go, you better take this." Karux handed Garanth a ram's horn of a giant mountain goat.
"What's this?"
"It's a horn. One blast calls your men to alert and tells them to ready their weapons. Two blasts mean attack. Three blasts will call your men back to you. I have found the horn cannot be ignored. It served me well at the battle of Korion-Tamia. I hope it will serve you as well."
Garanth left the next morning while Karux stayed behind with the arcanths to train more men. Ten tacarchs and their men followed him through the wastelands. Garanth was confident that such a large tireav would dissuade Nur from even attacking Kerwyn's Hill. At least their numbers frightened off any wolves or gob-bocari that might have seen them on the return trip. The large tireav turned into a liability, however, when they came to the river. It took them nearly half a day to ferry the men over and they were forced to camp across the river from Korion-Iscuron that night.
They came within sight of Kerwyn's Hill just past dawn. There they encountered a force of around six hundred spears waiting for them, nearly three times their number.