"Yes," said Berun. "Now it's time." Fight-fight-fight.
Chapter Ten
“We wait for the storm,” said Sauk.
The half-orc had gathered his raiding party on a small shelf of rock about halfway down the hill. The assassins huddled in the darkness, each no more than a dim shape against the rock. The wind from the oncoming storm cut through the trees so they swayed and tossed like a Shou feather dancer. Through the occasional break in the tossing boughs, Hama could see the yaqubi's tiny campfire several hundred paces below them.
"Once the rain starts," said Sauk, "listen for Taaki."
"Where has she got off to?" asked Hama.
"She's a ways up the hill on the other side of their camp. Listen for her. She's the signal. Once your hear her, get in the camp and kill 'em all."
"Will we be able to hear her over the storm?" Sauk was less than a few feet away, and Hama could barely hear him over the wind in the trees. The sky flickered, and thunder crashed on the mountains to the west, as if to emphasize the point.
"You'll hear her," said Sauk.
"Why wait?" asked Merzan.
"What?"
"For the storm."
"You know that little lizard our captive keeps setting loose on us?" said Sauk. "Yes."
"That's a treeclaw lizard, and Berun"-Hama could hear Sauk's lips twisting around the name — "learned to train it from the yaqubi. They use the damned things like hunting dogs against the spiders in the deep woods. And like dogs, the little beasts make great guards. Only these little hounds can hide in the trees so that they're near invisible. No telling how many are nestled in the brush around the camp. But they'll hole up once the rain starts. That's when we hit them."
"Those lizards," said Benjar, "are they poisonous?"
"Nah," said Sauk. "But you'll feel their claws and teeth if one gets on you. But they're just lizards. If one gets you, just grab and squeeze."
"It's the spiders we need to be worried about," said Merzan.
"Spiders?" said Hama.
"This is the Khopet-Dag," said Merzan. "The Spider Yaxmx. Peaks. You and Kerlis nearly wet yourselves all day worrying about them on the trail."
"You said most of them weren't dangerous."
"Most," said Sauk. "We're nearer the mountains now. The big ones don't usually come down this far. And the smaller ones-the rain will drive them into their holes. Don't worry about the spiders."
"But what if we run into one of the dangerous ones?" said Benjar.
"Damn it," said Sauk. "Did you see a single spider all day that you couldn't squash with your heel? No? You see a spider you don't like? Kill it. Spiders aren't bees or flies. They don't swarm."
Berun found what he was looking for near the top of the hill-a small swath of forest where seedlings no more than a season or two old were growing in the remains of an ancient tree. The old tree had fallen several seasons ago and gone to rot. Softened by melting frost and spring rains, it was now a hive of thousands of spiders. The treeclaw lizards preferred the fertile valleys between the hills where water was more plentiful, so the many spiders that made this part of the wood their home laid their eggs along the hilltops, and rotted logs were a favorite haunt.
It was late enough in the year that most of the egg sacs had hatched, but early enough that most of the spiderlings were still lurking in the immediate area. They'd had at least a couple of tendays to feast on flies, moths, and the young fangflies newly hatched from the thick mud along the valley streams. They'd grown nice and fat, and their fangs were full of new venom. But they were still growing and hungry. Ravenous, in fact. Still, there were not enough of them to suit Berun's purpose. Not here. But if his scheme went as planned, more would gather from the surrounding hills and valleys as his spell surged.
Berun settled himself near the base of the old log. He could smell the rot, thick and musky even in the strong rain-scented breeze. In his trek up the hill he'd barreled through a fair number of spider webs, and the tiny fibers fluttered about him like wisps of down, tickling his skin.
Perch, rummaging inside the log, swallowed the last of a spiderling he'd happened across. Running through the wood, Berun had opened the link he and Perch shared, tearing it wide, opening himself to the mind of the little lizard. He could feel the lizard's metabolism quickening, already growing a new tail, needing nourishment, and his friend was hungry. The dozens of spiders hiding in the crevices of the old log were too much temptation to ignore. The incessant messages of fight-fight-fight that had whispered along the link Berun shared with the lizard had changed to hunt-hunt-hungry-hungry-SPIDER!
Berun closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sent a feeling of urgency, of need, to Perch. Hunt spiders later. Time to fight. Now, Perch.
Fight-fight? Perch stopped in his attempt to chase a young spider out of a moist crevice where the log met the ground.
Fight, yes, Berun answered. Fight now. The tiger. Find the tiger.
Wariness and a tingle of fear wafted into Berun's mind. Fight… tiger?
Anger the tiger, said Berun. Make her growling-mad-then lead her away. Faraway. Understand?
Growling-mad tiger means eating scared-me. Perch emerged from the log. Berun could feel his little friend watching him, though it was too dark to see him.
You are fast, Berun told him. In-the-shadows in-the-tight-places fast. Get the tiger chasing-you-mad, then run-run-run.
Chasing-me-mad run-run-run. Perch hissed and chattered. Fun-fun fight-chase-run-fun!
Go, my friend.
Perch ran, unseen in the dark and unheard under the storm-swaying trees. In moments, he was gone. Berun relaxed his mind, seeking the rhythm of the storm, of the wood, of the world around him. In the gusts of wind, the wisps of spider web tickled his skin.
"Now," said Berun. "Now, Sauk. Here it comes. You should've stayed in your mountain."
He began his chant.
The tiger crouched a prudent distance from the camp. Her heart-brother had warned her about the lizards, biters and scratchers who hid in the trees. The little nuisance earlier today had angered her, but her coat was far too thick for such a creature's claws to be a real threat. No. The real threat was that the beasts would warn their masters below, and that would displease Taaki's heart-brother. So she kept to the thick brush, becoming a part of the darkness itself. She couldn't even see the distant twinkling of the campfire, but the smell of their fire was thick in her nostrils. She knew exactly where they were. At the signal from her heart-brother, she would roar to put fear in her prey then rush down the slope, making less sound than the wind in the trees.
Something rustled to her right, a furtive movement over the old leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor. Every part of the tiger went still as stone, save for her ears, which pivoted toward the sound.
The sky above the forest flashed, painting the wood in sharp contrasts of light and shadow, and thunder followed a moment later. The storm was close now, the scent of rain heavy on the wind. The last of the thunder faded, first from the ground, then the air as it rebounded off the mountain. Only the wind through the leaves and branches made any sound There.
Again, something skittered through the brush, but it was closer now. Very close.
A rumble gathered deep in the tiger's chest, and the skittering sound stopped.
The tiger waited.
A sharp patter joined the hissing of the leaves and creak of branches, but it was only the first drops of rain.
Soon… Her heart-brother, warning her.
Leaves rustled nearby, stopped, and the tiger heard a small hiss.
A lizard.
The tiger knew it, and the knowledge sang through the link she shared with her heart-brother. Kill it!