“I think Mirya might have marked this tree,” he told Hamil.
“But that’s the way we just came. Why would she mark the trail leading back to the place she was escaping from?”
Geran frowned, thinking for a moment. It could have been simple caution; Mirya might have decided that she wanted to know how to get back to her captors if the wilderness outside the keep proved too dangerous. None of the other pathways had such a mark, so she clearly wasn’t trying to leave signs showing which way she’d gone. But studying the ground, he saw that Mirya-if the slippered footprints were in fact hers-had looked at each of the trails branching away from the lakeshore before finally choosing one. “We’ll ask her when we find her,” he told Hamil. “Come on, let’s keep going.”
They jogged along the new path. This time they went a mile or more before coming to an intersecting trail. Once again they found the trail leading back the way they’d come marked with a fresh blaze. “Mirya!” Geran called. “Mirya!”
There was no answer. With a grimace of frustration, he searched until he found the path whose prints seemed most like the ones he’d been following, and started off again. But something else on the ground caught his eye. Quite near to Mirya’s step-overlapping it, in fact-was the mark of a taloned foot as big as Geran’s own. It had two large toes and a third, smaller one back toward the instep. As he moved along the trail, he found more of the creature’s marks, paralleling Mirya’s. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t seen those prints back by the lakeshore; something had dropped out of the jungle and taken up the Erstenwolds’ trail, or so he guessed. He picked up his speed, now loping along at an easy run. Hamil kept up without complaint, sensing his increasing urgency.
They splashed across a rock-strewn stream and found on the farther shore that the old footpath led into the ruins of an ancient road of glossy black stone. Hexagonal blocks fitted together untold years ago marked the old highway, although scarlet grass pushed up in the gaps between the pavers, and vines hung down over the path. Geran halted in confusion, staring at the ground. The hard stone held no impression that he could make out. “Damn the luck,” he muttered. Somewhere in the forest nearby, an animal gave voice to a strange hooting cry. “Hamil, I’ve lost the trail.”
The halfling looked up and down the path and frowned. “Left or right?”
“Kara could tell us, if she were here.” Geran kicked at the ground in frustration. He’d exhausted what small store of woodcraft he possessed, but he kneeled and began to examine the stones more closely, hoping for a sign he’d missed. Hamil did the same.
“This stonework’s much older than the Black Moon keep,” the halfling said. “I wonder who put a road here?”
“It might lead to those ruins you saw as we descended. They’d be uphill from here, I think.” Geran peered up the overgrown road, searching for a glimpse of old towers and walls in that direction, or at least some sign that Mirya and her daughter might have gone that way. Then he looked down the road, which followed the stream back toward the lake. Another unseen animal on the other side of the stream hooted back at the first one. “Which way would Mirya and Selsha turn?”
Hamil shook his head. “Mirya would be looking for a place to hide, wouldn’t she? If she saw those ruins from the air, she might have decided to head for them. They’d be clear of the forest, anyway.” He waved his arm at the downstream direction. “That probably takes you back toward the lake, and then who knows where?”
“We could split up and cover both possibilities,” Geran said slowly.
“Not a chance. The last thing I want to have to do is go looking for you after I find Mirya and Selsha. In fact-” Hamil started to say something more, but he was interrupted by another of the hooting cries. His eyes narrowed, and he turned slowly, his head cocked to one side as he laid an arrow across his bowstring. In fact, we’re about to be attacked, he finished silently. Whatever they are, there are three or four of them closing in on us from the forest.
Hamil had an uncanny sense for trouble, and Geran trusted it. He eased his sword from the sheath and moved to put his back to Hamil’s. “Never mind about the splitting up idea,” he said softly. More of the cries sounded in the forest, now closer and around them on all sides. The swordmage stared into the gloom of the forest floor, straining for some glimpse of the creatures stalking them-and then the monsters attacked.
They hurled down from the treetops, leaping in great froglike bounds. Geran glimpsed mottled greenish white bodies and great yellow-orange eyes, a single orb that formed almost the entire head of each of the creatures. Behind him Hamil’s bowstring thrummed, and an uncanny screech split the air. Then the first of the things was on the swordmage. Its talons raked at him, scoring the flesh of his shoulders. He slashed furiously at it and felt his steel bite into its warty hide; dark ichor splattered the ground, and the thing bounded away again.
He wheeled to face the next of the monsters and saw it crouching in the fork of a moss-covered tree, staring at him. The creature was the size of a grown man, but it had a hunched, stooped posture, with long arms and knees bent into an awkward crouch. Its single great eye was almost the size of a human head and glittered with a bright golden malice. Beneath it a tiny mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth opened to hiss at him. The eye focused on him, and a sudden wave of lightheadedness and nausea swept over him. His face felt hot and flushed and began to itch furiously. He tore his eyes away from the monster’s gaze and raised his left arm to guard his face; to his horror he saw the skin growing dark, dry, and hot in front of him, until small cracks appeared and fluid began to seep out.
“Ilmater’s holy wounds!” he cried out in horror. “Hamil, don’t let them look at you! Their gaze sears flesh!”
A strangled cry behind him warned that Hamil had discovered that for himself. In pure desperation, Geran turned away from the monster staring at him and did his best to hide inside his own cloak, averting his gaze. The suppuration of his left arm ended abruptly; he bounded past Hamil, charging at a monster that squatted on a boulder by the stream, transfixing the halfling with its horrid gaze. The creature hissed in anger as Geran broke its hold on Hamil, and shifted its gaze to the swordmage-but now Geran was within sword’s reach. He lashed out with a wild slash at the thing’s face and caught it across its great foul eye. The orb burst open in a gush of dark liquid, and the creature screeched horribly. It fell to the ground, its limbs jerking and flailing, and he finished it with a thrust through the center of its narrow chest.
Geran turned back to the one he’d left behind him. The creature was bounding closer, charging at the two companions while neither was looking at it. This time he shielded his eyes with his hand, keeping his gaze at the middle of its chest and guarding himself with his cloak as he moved forward to meet it. Swinging his sword wildly, he forced the monster to break off its rush. Talons raked at him, but Geran leveled his sword and thrust straight ahead, where he guessed the middle of its body to be. Steel bit into flesh, and his adversary hissed and jumped away; when he cautiously raised his eyes to find where it had gone, he glimpsed only a flash of pale hide disappearing back into the jungle.
“I definitely don’t like the jungle,” Hamil muttered. He held his bow with blistered hands, peering into the trees. “Did that last one get away?”