“What damage?” Eddis asked generally.
Mead looked up from the armsman he was tending. “At least ten wounded. Two horses dead, that I know for certain. Four men dead.”
“And all those filthy hobgoblins,” Hebold announced. He was bloody, filthy, and grinning hugely.
“Good,” Eddis told him. “Why don’t you get a couple of the men to help you drag them away from camp, so the horses can start settling down.”
To her surprise, he did what she asked without comment. M’Baddah—over there, with M’Whan; Blorys moving along the far side of the road. No sign of Jerdren, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him. Hard to tell who was where, with only two flickering lanterns out here.
“Jers, where are you?” she called out. “Someone get a couple more lanterns out here, and any of you who aren’t hurt, set a guard here, on the camp and on the horses, so we don’t get caught like that again!”
“Here he is!” Blorys called. “I think he’s—no, he’s breathing, and that’s not his blood.”
Eddis made her way past fallen and shocked-looking men, and knelt to feel Jerdren’s throat for pulse. The man groaned faintly.
“Got the wind knocked out of him,” Eddis said.
Another groan, and Jerdren fought his way to sitting, gingerly cradling his head in his hands.
“Gods, what a headache,” he mumbled. “Brute got the spear away from one of the men and cracked me across the skull with it.”
Blorys gripped his shoulder and fetched a quiet sigh of relief.
“What’s the damage?” the older man asked after a moment. Eddis told him. “That’s not so good, is it?”
“It could have been a lot worse,” she assured him. “All those inexperienced Keep men, all those horses, and a surprise attack. Except after last night, we should have been expecting it.”
Jerdren shrugged, then winced and clutched his brow. “Know what, Eddis? I owe you an apology. Think you’re right—they know where we are, all right. Tells me that we take on this final cave, one last battle, and ride away.”
Blorys stared at him. “You’re giving up? That must have been some crack to the head, Brother.”
Jerdren managed a faint grin. “Didn’t say that. Just doesn’t seem sense to sit here and wait for ’em to finish us off a few at a time. There’s no reason why we couldn’t come back later—next spring, say—and finish the job.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Eddis said and got back to her feet.
Someone needs to keep an eye on things here, she thought. With M’Baddah and Jerdren both down, that meant her. “One last battle,” she whispered. Jerdren’s words sounded like an ill omen, all at once.
Cleanup took hours, and it was nearly dawn when Eddis settled down close to the fire and dosed her eyes. Sleep evaded her. Four dead horses, two badly injured, another two simply gone. Most of the dead men were those who’d ridden out from the Keep to bring them supplies. Panev had healed the worst injuries, Mead using potions to close cuts and a spell to soothe and quiet the horses.
Too much blood, she thought wearily. The sight and smell of it sickened her, all at once, and Jerdren’s words still rang in her mind. One last battle. They’d lost so many men already. If this temple was as dire as Panev thought, how many of them would survive?
17
Morning came with a chill wind, and a ruddy glare filled what could be seen of the eastern sky. Eddis woke to the jingle of harnesses and the thud of restless horses stamping their feet. The party returning to the Keep was ready to ride out. Anxious, she thought, and who could blame them? All around her, the armsmen were quietly stowing their belongings and readying their weapons. Blorys, seeing her sit up, brought her a steaming mug and a bowl of porridge, and someone else doused the fire. Eddis managed a smile as she took the food and drink. Blorys looked distracted and worried, but he said nothing while she ate.
“What’s happening? Is Jerdren all right?” she asked finally.
He shrugged “We buried the dead men a little while ago. Mead gave Jers something for the headache last night, and he was fine after that He’s just… well, you know Jers.” He shook himself and smiled warmth kindling his eyes. “Take care today, Eddis.”
“I will.” She hesitated, then took both his hands in hers. “If you swear to do the same.”
“As best I can. Jers may—”
“No,” she said quietly. “Swear you’ll take care of yourself.” Silence. “Blor, he won’t thank you for getting killed trying to protect him.”
He sighed quietly. “I know. It’s just—” He gripped her fingers, then brought one hand up to brush against his lips. “I swear, Eddis.”
Moments later, Panev called them all together. “I have told you a little of the dangers that may await us. Even I cannot be sure what we face, if we enter a temple of evil. Listen to your leaders—and to me—and you may well survive this day. You men who return to the Keep—my blessings and the strength of the gods guide you safely home. You did not expect to battle monsters, and yet you did, and you live to tell the tale.”
He was silent as the Keep men mounted and rode out, then turned to look over the armed company surrounding him. “Kneel, all of you,” he said. “This blessing may give you courage when you most need it.”
He spoke quietly, and even Eddis—who was nearest—heard little of what he said, but she felt calm wash through her, and a sense of rightness.
Hebold came back through the trees as Panev was finishing his prayer. His lips twisted, and he turned away. Dolt, Eddis thought. I don’t believe in the priest’s gods or his religion either, but I’m not fool enough to spurn them. Jerdren got to his feet and strode out of the camp, across the road, and into the brush. The others followed.
They passed the kobolds’ lair, halted abruptly as harsh, wild laughter echoed all around them. Willow and M’Baddah ran that way, slipping from tree to tree, out of sight moments only, before they came walking back. Eddis had nocked an arrow to her string, but her lieutenant’s familiar hand sign told her there was no threat.
Willow beckoned them close and said, “We saw hobgoblins going from the orc caves to their own hold, carrying orc and kobold dead.”
Eddis’ nose wrinkled. “Filling the larder, no doubt. Not our business, if that’s all.”
They were on their way moments later and made the westernmost end of the ravine without further incident.
They paused for breath and to ready their weapons. Eddis gave Flerys a reassuring smile. The child waggled her spear and made M’Baddah’s sign for luck, though Eddis thought the child looked anxious. When they went on, Panev led, Eddis, Willow, and M’Baddah close behind him with their bows ready. Hebold was on their heels, battle-axe in one hand and the hobgoblin dub he’d picked up the night before in the other.
The few trees on the heights here looked frost-burned, blackened leaves hanging lifeless, the trunks thin and twisted. The air was musty and still.
“Wait,” Panev ordered quietly and clambered up a few paces to survey the heights before them. He nodded sharply and gestured for them to come on.
Eddis stared as she came up. There was a true path here, edged in broken stone and worn down into the rock itself. How can that be? she wondered. There’s no trace of a path leading to this place! Magic, she thought unhappily. Her feet tingled as she reluctantly stepped down into the trail.
Panev beckoned Mead to his side, and the two led through a copse of bloated trees and twisting vines. The musty smell increased. Free of the close-growing trees, Eddis could see a cave looming just above them. The odor was much stronger here, borne on chill air that seemed to flow down from the entrance and wrap around them.
The priest nodded, as if satisfied on some count. “Quickly,” he hissed. Mace in one hand, a slender gray wand in the other, he strode through the wide opening and vanished into darkness.