The tytan lunged in the direction of Haplo’s voice. The Parryn moved, darting aside. The tytan grabbed wildly at air.
Haplo, having expected this attack, repeated his question patiently.
“Tell me about the citadel. Did the Sartan—”
Sartan!
The tytan’s fury struck, astonishing in its raw power, a stunning blow to Haplo’s magic. The runes wavered, crumbled. The creature—freed from the illusion—turned its head toward Haplo.
The Patryn fought to regain his control, and the runes strengthened. The tytan lost him, groped blindly for its prey.
You are Sartan!
“No,” replied Haplo. Praying his strength held, he wiped sweat from his face. “I am not a Sartan. I am their enemy, like yourself!” Vou lie! You are Sartan! You trick us! Build the citadel, then steal our eyes!
Blind us to the bright and shining light!
The tytan’s rage hammered at Haplo, he grew weaker with every blow. His spell wouldn’t hold much longer. He had to escape now, while the creature was, for the moment, still confused. But it had been worth it. He had gained something. Blind us to the bright and shining light. He thought he might be starting to understand. Bright and shining … before him … above him… .
“Dog!” Haplo turned to run, stopped dead. The trees had vanished. Standing before him, all around him, everywhere he looked, he saw himself. The tytan had turned the Patryn’s own magical spell against him. Haplo fought to quell his fear. He was trapped, no escape. He could shatter the spell surrounding him, but that would shatter the spell surrounding the tytan at the same time. Drained, exhausted, he didn’t have the strength to weave another rune fabric, not one that would stop the creature. The Patryn turned to his right, saw himself. He turned left, faced himself—wide-eyed, pale. The dog, at his feet, dashed about in frantic circles, barking wildly. Haplo sensed the tytan, blundering about, searching for him. Sooner or later, the creature would stumble into him. Some-dung brushed against him, something warm and living, perhaps a gigantic hand …
Blindly, Haplo hurled himself to one side, away from the creature, and slammed into a tree. The impact bruised him, drove the breath from his body. He gasped for air, and realized suddenly that he could see! Trees, vines! The illusion was ending. Relief flooded him, banished instantly by fear. That meant the rune spell was unwinding. If he could see where he was, then so could his enemy.
The tytan loomed over him. Haplo lunged, diving into the moss, scrabbling to escape. He heard the dog behind him, valiantly trying to defend its master, heard a sharp, pain-filled whine. A dark, furry body crashed to the ground beside him.
Grabbing a tree branch, Haplo staggered to his feet.
The tytan plucked the weapon from his grip, reached down, grabbed his arm. The tytan’s hand was enormous, the palm engulfed the bone and muscle, fingers squeezed. The tytan pulled, wrenched Haplo’s arm from the socket. He sagged to the ground.
The tytan jerked him back up, tightened its grip. Haplo fought the pain, fought gathering darkness. The next rug would rip the limb from his body.
“Pardon me, sir, but may I be of any service?”
Fiery red eyes poked up out of the moss, almost on a level with Haplo. The tytan pulled; Haplo heard cracking and snapping, the pain nearly made him lose consciousness.
The red eyes flared, a scaly green head, festooned with vines, thrust up from the moss. A red-rimmed mouth parted, shining white teeth glistened, the black tongue flickered.
Haplo felt himself released, hurled to the ground. He clasped his shoulder. The arm was dislocated, but it was still attached. Gritting his teeth against the pain, afraid to draw attention to himself, he lay on the moss, too weak to move, and watched.
The dragon spoke. Haplo couldn’t understand what it said, but he sensed the tytan’s rage seeping away, replaced by awe and fear. The dragon spoke again, tone imperative, and the tytan fled back into the jungle, its green, dappled body moving swiftly and silently, making it seem to the Patryn’s dazed eyes as if the trees themselves were running away.
Haplo rolled over, and blacked out.
29
“Zifnab, you’re back!” cried Leisfthan Quindiniar.
“I am?” said the old man, looking extremely startled. Running out onto the porch, Lenthan grabbed Zifnab’s hand and shook it heartily. “And Paithan!” he said, catching sight of his son. “Blessed Orn! No one told me. Do your sisters know?”
“Yes, Guvnor. They know.” The elf gazed at his father in concern. “Have you been well, sir?”
“And you brought guests?” Lenthan switched his vague, shy smile to Roland and Rega. The one, nursing his injured cheek, nodded sullenly. The other, moving to stand near Paithan, clasped hold of his hand. The elf put his arm around her and the two stood together, staring at Lenthan defiantly.
“Oh, my,” murmured Lenthan, and began to pluck at the tails of his topcoat.
“Oh, my.”
“Father, listen to the trumpet calls.” Paithan placed a hand on his father’s thin shoulder. “Terrible things are happening. Did you hear? Did Gallic tell you?”
Lenthan glanced around, as if he would be very glad to change the subject, but Zifnab was staring off into the wilderness with a pensive frown. And there was a dwarf, crouched in a comer, chewing on bread and cheese that Paithan had gone into the kitchen to acquire. (It had become fairly obvious that no one intended inviting them in for luncheon.)
“I … believe your sister mentioned something—but the army has everything under control.”
“They don’t, Father. It’s impossible. I’ve seen these fiends! They destroyed the dwarven nation. Thillia is gone, Father! Gone! We’re not going to stop them. It’s like the old man said—doom and destruction.” Lenthan squirmed, twisting his coattails into knots. He lowered his eyes to the wooden slats of the porch. Those, at least, were safe, weren’t going to spring any surprises on him.
“Father, are you listening?” Paithan gave his father a slight shake.
“What?” Lenthan blinked up at him, smiled anxiously. “Oh, yes. A fine adventure you’ve had. That’s very nice, dear boy. Very nice, indeed. But now why don’t you come in and talk to your sister. Tell Callie you’re home.”
“She’s knows I’m home!” Paithan exclaimed, frustrated. “She forbid me the house, Father. She insulted me and the woman who is going to be my wife! I will not enter that house again!”
“Oh, dear.” Lenthan looked from his son to the humans to the dwarf to the old man. “Oh, dear.”
“Look, Paithan,” said Roland, coming to stand beside the elf, “you’ve been home, you’ve seen your family. You did your best to warn them. What happens now isn’t any of your concern. We’ve got to hit the trail, if we’re going to clear out of here ahead of the tytans.”
“And where will you go?” demanded Zifnab, head snapping up, chin jutting forward.
“I don’t know!” Roland shrugged, glanced at the old man, irritated. “I’m not that familiar with this part of the world. Maybe the Fartherness Reaches. That’s to the est, isn’t it? Or Sinith Paragna—”
“The Fartherness Reaches have been destroyed, its people massacred,” stated Zifnab, eyes glittering beneath his white bushy brows. “You might elude the tytans for a time in the jungles of Sinith Paragna but eventually they would find you. And then what would you do, boy? Keep running? Run until you’re backed up against the Terinthian Ocean? Will you have time to build yourself a ship to cross the water? And even then it would be only a matter of time. Even then they will follow you.”
“Shut up, old man! Just shut up! Either that, or tell us how we’re going to get out of here!”