Nyeasta returned its attention to Vandoorm. “Ssancrissst iss where?” the neogi demanded once more.
“Release Brun or I say nothing!” Vandoorm countered, defying the neogi. The little creature turned to its monstrous servant and Vandoorm took a deep breath of relief, confident that the neogi had relented.
Smiling a gruesome smile, the neogi calmly told the lordservant, “Meat kill.” Vandoorm’s triumphant look turned to horror when the umber hulk slashed downward with its arm at the wriggling Brun. The outthrust talons struck in concert with a single wild shriek from the doomed man’s mouth. Before the cry had begun to echo, there was the hard grinding of rock as the beasts’s claws speared Brun’s body and drove into the flagstones of the quay, gouging a huge fistful of bloody rock. Its talons dripping, the umber hulk threw the one-eyed lieutenant's torso into the center of Vandoorm’s company. Blood spattered the legs of the stunned men.
“Now, servant-slave, Ssancrissst Isle iss where? Answer and you and your slaves spared will be.” Here Nyeasta motioned with a tiny claw to Vandoorm’s mercenaries.
Teldin, horrified but locked in place by grotesque fascination, struggled to see clearly without revealing himself. Small tremors palsied the leg and arms of the wrought-up mercenaries, their swords clenched rigid, the tips vibrating with tension. Teldin was hardly surprised to see that even the cool Vandoorm shook, spasms rippling across his back. The captain’s gaze turned from Nyeasta to Brun’s bloody remains and back again. The umber hulks, of which Teldin had counted five, took a step closer to the mass of men.
“West!” blurted Vandoorm, desperate to forestall an unprofitable fight. “West, beyond the isles of Ergoth, at the mouth of the strait that divides north and south.” It all tumbled out at once. “I trained an army of Whitestone there in the war. Nevermind is a peak somewhere in the mountains. Only gnomes live in that part of Sancrist.” The bearded warrior shook, as if speaking had released the tension coiled within him.
“Gnomesss?” hissed Nyeasta. “Gnomess shipss build- there, of course, the cloakmaster will go. Him the spheres call.” The neogi stared toward the sky, rapt in its thoughts.
“Then my information is good, is worth something, creature-sir?” Vandoorm probed, his nerve and his mercenary instincts returning. “We’ll take our pay and go.”
“No promisesss to ssslaves there are,” Nyeasta said in cool, slippery tones. “Kill them,” the neogi ordered in the harsh tongue of its hulking servants.
“To swords and break out right!” Vandoorm shouted as the umber hulks lumbered forward. The order was hardly necessary, for the mercenaries had already sprung futilely into action, but the umber hulks’ strange, multifaceted eyes swirled in hypnotic colors and the seasoned warriors staggered back, dazed and confused. Some struck out blindly while others, hopelessly outmatched for the first time in their careers, cried for mercy, but there was no mercy coming. The broad-bodied, gigantic umber hulks waded among the random, raging mass of mercenaries, tearing the warriors apart with impunity. Only a few, Vandoorm among them, seemed to retain their sanity.
Teldin suddenly realized that he was too close to the massacre when a hapless mercenary crashed through the lobster pots just to the right. The body landed by Teldin’s feet, its head dangling toward the harbor below. Half the man’s shoulder had been torn away and the blood flowed quickly into the greasy water. The man’s legs kicked feebly in dying throes at the splintered wood of the traps. Another shriek, along with a splash of blood and gore across his cheek, tore Teldin’s attention away.
Beyond the shelter of the pots, the umber hulks gruesomely thinned the ranks of Vandoorm’s few remaining men. The short, bearded captain hewed at the beasts with his broad sword, his most furious blows hacking gashes through the horrors’ bony armor. Blood and flesh soaked the pavement under Vandoorm’s feet. Reeling back for a swing, the captain’s foot suddenly slipped beneath him. He dropped to one knee and weakly tried to beat the monsters off, then suddenly the mercenary was swarmed by the creatures. Vandoorm’s screams were drowned by the umber hulks’ rending claws, their blood-stained talons flailing down upon the prostrate captain.
Teldin fled, blindly scrambling along the quay. Fear forced him into a hunched run; instinct somehow kept him behind the shelter of the fishermen’s nets and traps. Screams ended abruptly. Clacking mandibles and soft, fleshy rips faded and welcome darkness cloaked the terrified farmer. Teldin ran on, turning and twisting blindly. He gasped for breath, his throat raw and thick. Pain seared his heaving chest. He sprinted until, exhausted, he could run no more. Still he lurched on.
Dirty, sweaty, and blood-stained, talking fiercely to himself and staggering as he walked, Teldin gained a wide and fearsome berth amid the Palanthians he passed on his way back to the inn.
Chapter Thirteen
Given his blood-smeared and panicked state, Teldin had little difficulty persuading Gomja that it was well past time to leave Palanthas. Indeed, the giff gathered their belongs and strapped on his sword in a grimly satisfied mood. In his unspoken opinion, Vandoorm and his men had gotten only what they deserved. Still, Gomja wanted to stay and fight, but Teldin knew it was time to escape. The elves were sailing tomorrow and Teldin was determined to be on that ship when it left. Teldin and Gomja hurried out onto the night streets, leaving an awestruck and terrified innkeeper behind.
Somehow, the pair managed to reach the quay without incident. The Silver Spray was still moored there, riding higher in the water as the tide slowly came in. A lantern swung from the main boom, another over the aft companionway. The deck was deserted and the pair had little difficulty slipping aboard, though the gangplank groaned under the giffs weight. Relying on Gomja’s knowledge of ships, they found a hatch to the hold and dropped into the darkness below. There, by slowly groping their way, the two found what seemed a secure, if uncomfortable, nest.
Once they had settled in, all they could do was wait. Teldin periodically dozed until he had no idea what time it might be. At some point he was aware of a vaguely sickening motion as the whole world seemed to rise and fall at rhythmic intervals. This was accompanied by thin streams of sunlight around the edges of the hatch and planking above. Teldin ignored both these and Gomja’s voluminous snores, and drifted back to sleep.
“There! I told you I heard something,” cried a silvery voice muffled by the crates in the hold. “That way.”
The words roused the farmer from his sleep. The giff was already awake, trying to draw his sword while lurching to his feet. Teldin wriggled to avoid being crushed underfoot.
“Sir, I think we’ve been discovered,” the alien rumbled as he struggled to reach a good fighting position.
“Over there!” called an elven voice.
“Ahoy on deck, get the mate over here. Something’s going on!” another voice sang out.
Suddenly brilliant sunlight filled the hold as the main hatch cover was pulled away. Teldin and the giff shielded their eyes, unable to see clearly in the glare as three elves sprang forward. Lithe and lean, they held a menacing array of knives, gaffs, and spears pointed toward the two intruders.
“Stowaways, I told you!” announced one of the elves.
“A human!” breathed another.
“And a. . what?” asked the third, jabbing at Gomja. The giff batted the gaff away with his sword. “Trooper Herphan Gomja, Red Grade, First Rank, Red Platoon.” he indignantly announced. “Stand back. groundlings. before a superior warrior of the giff descends upon you!
“Gomja,” Teldin snarled in an aside to his partner, “just shut up and surrender! I don’t think they mean to kill us.”
“Out of there, human, and your ogre friend, too,” ordered the tallest of the elves, who stood only up to Teldin’s nose. Still, the spear the elf waved added considerable impetus to his command.