"It's closer," whispered Erix, awestruck.
In the back of his mind, Halloran had sheltered the notion that perhaps this nocturnal pack was not connected to him. After all, he knew of no spells usable by the Bishou or Darien that could conjure up anything like this. But their appearance on this second night in a row confirmed his worst suspicions.
"They're a lot closer," he said grimly, looking straight into Erix's eyes. He wanted to dive into the warm pool he saw there, seeking comfort and shelter. But he knew this was not to be.
"What are they?" Erix questioned him earnestly.
She tried to conceal her fright, but was not completely successful.
"I'm not sure. Sorcerous, some kind of black magic things, I'm sure… very powerful, very deadly. They sound, in a way, like a pack of hounds on the hunt, but the noise is too unearthly for that." He took a deep breath and continued.
"Remember when I told you that we'd have to split up if it ever got too dangerous? The time has come. You can't stick with me any longer. I can't outrun those creatures, and when they catch me, it won't be pleasant. I might be able to hold 'em off, but you'll be far safer elsewhere."
She laughed at him then, and Halloran just stared back, not amused. "I mean it! We'll have to split up. It's the only chance you have!"
"Did you ever stop to think that this pack might be chasing me?" she asked, standing up and then helping him to his feet. "Maybe we should just stick together and try to help each other out," Erix suggested.
Halloran looked at her in surprise, ashamed that he had not considered that possibility. He had known since the death of Kachin that Erix had powerful and murderous enemies. Indeed, that attacker had broken off the fight at dawn, exactly when these hounds had ceased their howling the previous night.
Wearily, aching in every joint, they prepared to move out once more. The howling was more distinct than the previous night, yet still somehow indefinably distant.
They plodded along through the rest of the night, and gradually the sound drifted away behind them. But humans and animals both were near the point of total exhaustion when sunrise finally ended the cries of the beastly pursuers.
Finally, just as dawn turned to daylight, the jungle opened slightly into a flat savannah of grass, reeds, and, wondrous miracle, a clear pond! They both splashed into the water as the sun came up, drinking and washing and cooling off.
Only as the first rays lit the ground around them did Halloran look up to see three buzzards wheeling through a lazy circle above them.
"Higher! It needs five more feet!" Daggrande barked at a group of legionnaires who leaned on their spades in exhaustion. With dark looks at the dwarf, they chopped into the earth and shoveled more dirt onto the rampart that now ringed three quarters of Fort Helmsport.
Despite his shouts and curses, the dwarf could not restrain his pride in the work of the legionnaires. In a few short days, they had moved a prodigious amount of earth. Soon they would have a commanding and easily defensible base overlooking a fine natural harbor and a long stretch of the coast of this nation called Payit.
Below them, the little fishing village would never be the same. The wide, once-grassy field surrounding it had been churned to mud. A small smithy had been established near the stream, which now flowed brown and silt-laden into the bay, while black smoke from the forge filtered across the plain. A road, already reduced to a strip of mud, led from the fort to Ulatos. Steady supplies of food – cocoa, mayz, turkeys, venison, all the choicest delicacies of the Payit – arrived daily, and the legion ate well.
As the fort's construction progressed, rocks and earth had also been dumped into the bay, and now a solid jetty extended perhaps a hundred feet from shore. An additional pier, crossing the T of the jetty, took form, and carracks and caravels pulled up to the solid barrier. No longer did all loading and unloading depend upon the ships' small boats.
Daggrande continued his inspection of the rampart. The hilltop would soon be circled by a ten-foot-high dirt wall, with a five-foot deep ditch on the outside. A small opening had been left, free of ditch and wall, but Darien claimed to know a spell that would fill this gap in a moment. Daggrande did not doubt her.
The dwarf moved around to the far side of the redoubt, facing inland. This entire length had been the first completed, and no one was working here now. Daggrande climbed to the top of the wall and looked south. The belt of coastal plain surrounding Ulatos quickly met a deep jungle. The legionnaires had heard tales of a land called Far Payit, in the distant reaches to the south, but little was known of that heavily forested reach.
The natives of Ulatos had proven most cooperative, arriving at Helmsport laden with food, octal, and featherwork, but no more gold. These days Cordell studied his map, consulting again and again with the men who had seen Nexal. Images of that city – gold-lined images, Daggrande felt certain – had begun to dominate the commander's thoughts.
The dwarf himself didn't like the prospect of a long campaign on this foreign shore, so far from a supply and reinforcement base. At least here, beside Ulatos, they were close to their ships. The fleet represented ultimate safety against a people whose largest craft was the canoe.
Nexal was an inland city, many days' march from the sea. Surely even Cordell would not be so rash as to lead his small group, a bare five hundred men, into the heart of a nation whose army must number many tens of thousands! But beneath all his reflections, Daggrande was a legionnaire, sworn to obey his captain-general. And such he would always do, or die.
Daggrande's musings were interrupted by the sound of hushed voices. Scowling, he looked along the length of the wall, then into the redoubt behind him, but he saw nobody near him. Leaning slightly forward, he looked down the outer slope of the wall and saw several captains, including the usually dependable Garrant. Leaning farther, but crouching so as to remain hidden, the dwarf recognized the hat of the Assessor of Amn, Kardann.
It was the latter who spoke.
"He means to see us die here for his own aggrandizement!" Kardann's urgency carried even through the whisper of his voice. "Any sensible man would send for reinforcements and build up an army here before marching inland to seize more land!"
"Aye," grunted Captain Leone, a brave but unimaginative captain of longbowmen. "I've heard the army we fought here is nothin' next to the men they can muster inland."
"We must send to Amn for more forces!" persisted the assessor, "It would not mean abandonment of this base. We'd only need to send a few ships, enough to get the treasure safely back."
"It's the sensible thing to do," grunted another captain. Daggrande didn't recognize him beneath the brim of his helm.
"Perhaps we should all talk to the general…" suggested Garrant.
"No!" hissed Kardann. "He fears too much for his own power. We would only scare him into doing something rash. Instead, I have another plan…"
A sudden wind whirled off the bay, and Daggrande ducked backward, startled. The whispers of the warm breeze drowned out the whispers of treachery from below, but Daggrande had heard enough.
It was time to find the captain-general.
By day they stumbled until fatigue claimed them, collapsing into whatever minimal shelter the land might offer. They would steal a few hours of sleep in the afternoon, but then night fell, and soon the howling commenced again. Each night it drew closer, until it resounded through the forest, as if the pack were about to burst through the nearest line of trees. Still, after four nights of desperate flight, keeping always to unpopulated lands, barren wildernesses of jungle and swamp, they had yet to catch sight of their pursuers.