Teb’s face had gone white. His pulse pounded. He could sense the small creature clearly and was filled with its pain and fear. He could see the small body trussed tightly, its broad tail bound to its side, its webbed feet wrapped so tight they were numb. He knew that the otter had no real hope that anyone would hear its silent calls. He gripped his sword as Seastrider dove.
As she flew just above the deck, Teb slid off. Seastrider banked away between the trees. The air was warm and heavy, the deck wet and slick. Starpounder swept down, and Colewolf dropped off beside Teb. It was still night in the tree-covered marsh, the ship too dark for them to see much. They could not sense a guard. The could feel the otter’s pain, and they knew something else about it. . . .
Suddenly a shout—hatches were flung open, lamps blazed. They ducked behind a cabin as half-dressed soldiers poured up out of the hold. Weapons gleamed in the light of swinging lanterns. Teb slipped on the wet deck, recovered, blocking swords with his blade. Four came at him. He lost sight of Colewolf, was backed against the rail.
He thrust at a charging soldier, sent him overboard, faced three more. He struck and dodged, sweat running into his eyes. He took a gash on his shoulder. Two more were on him; his weapon was forced back; he felt the barrier of cabin wall behind him.
He kicked one in the groin and ducked, then swung, but the other lunged, its weapon tossed aside, its cold fingers clutching his throat. Its knee slammed into his stomach. He sprawled, his belly torn with pain, and heard crashing overhead.
Branches broke under the diving dragons. Kiri shouted, her sword flashing as she dropped to the deck. She struck down a dark figure. Teb caught a glimpse of Camery; then Seastrider’s head filled the foredeck. She snatched up a warrior and crushed it. Dragons towered around the ship, coiling over it so it rocked and heeled. Teb saw fire creeping along the deck from an overturned lamp. He heard a faint, chittering cry.
He ran crouching past the battling swords of Colewolf and two dark soldiers and made for the foredeck as fire leaped behind him.
Chapter 8
My heart breaks for the little animals who suffer at the hands of the unliving. Of all that we cherish, perhaps tenderness is most detested by the dark. Oh, Camery, Teb—you must escape this terror somehow.
*
The cry came from a locker. Teb jerked the bolt free and swung the door open. The little otter stared up at him with terror. It was wrapped in chains so tight it couldn’t move. Its white fur was matted and bloody. A white otter—a rare white otter.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly, taking it up in his arms. When he turned, a dark soldier blocked his way. Seastrider reared, knocked the un-man over the side, and struck out with fury at two leaping warriors. Give the otter to me, Tebriel.
He shoved the little otter into her open mouth. She lifted away fast, her wings shattering a mast. Fire cut along the rail and into the deck as Teb spun around, to fight beside Colewolf.
They killed five more soldiers. When the fire leaped like a wall around them, they fled to Starpounder’s back. “Kiri!” Teb shouted as the black dragon lifted. “Camery . . . Kiri . . .”
“Here,” Kiri shouted, “I’m here.”
“Camery! Where is Camery?”
Below them, the ship was a raging fire.
“In the swamp,” Kiri cried. “There . . .”
Nightraider flashed by them, breaking trees as he sought to reach Camery. She was high in a tree climbing away from three dark soldiers, her sword flashing as she turned to strike at them. She felled one, but the sword of the second plunged inches from her head. Nightraider snatched him off and crushed him. Camery slashed at the third. He fell. She leaped for Nightraider’s back, and he rose straight up, winging through leaping fire. The three dragons sped south over the marsh and beyond it.
Seastrider stood on an icy hill. The young otter lay between her front feet, nearly hidden by her big head as she breathed warm air over him. Teb slid down from Starpounder and knelt beside the small, battered creature. He touched it gently, whispering to it, sickened by the chain that cut and deformed its small body. He examined the lock, trying to force it with his knife.
“They put me in a leather bag,” the young otter told him. “I ripped it open, so they chained me.” The left side of the otter’s face was so swollen, his eye was only a slit. His white fur was the color of dirty rags, matted with dried blood.
Kiri and Camery found mud at the edge of the field and brought it in handfuls, to pack around the chain. When the otter’s body was protected, Seastrider cut the metal lock off with a small, quick spurt of flame. As Teb unwrapped the chain, fresh blood started to flow. Camery felt the little otter’s legs carefully for broken bones. When she felt his left thigh, he jerked and cried out.
She examined it carefully. “I can’t tell whether it’s broken. Oh, how could they hurt a little creature so?”
But they all knew how the dark could. The dark partook greedily of such suffering. The little otter had closed its eyes tight against the pain. Its paws were clutched together against its belly. Teb could imagine what plans the dark had for the little white Seer.
“So small,” Kiri said.
Camery looked up at Teb. “It was a white otter who took care of you at Nightpool.”
“Yes,” Teb said, stroking the little otter’s ears. “A fine otter, who taught me much.”
“What is your name?” Kiri said.
“Hanni. I am Hanni.”
“Are you of the nation of Cekus?” Teb asked him.
Tears started in the little otter’s eyes. He turned away and wouldn’t answer.
When Camery took him in her arms, he snuggled against her and laid his bloody, swollen head beneath her chin against the warmth of her throat.
Colewolf took off his heavy coat, buttoned it up, and tied the neck shut with rawhide cord. He tied the arms together to make a sling around Camery’s neck, and they settled Hanni carefully in the warm pouch. Camery’s pale hair fell down around him, but when she brushed it back, Hanni grabbed a handful and pressed it against his nose.
“Gold—so gold. Like the chain of my worry stone.” He stared at Camery. “They took my worry stone— that was why they wanted me. They tried to make me tell where it came from.”
Camery cuddled him close and stroked him.
“What worry stone?” Teb said. “What was it made of?”
“They tried to make me tell. They hurt me. I didn’t tell them.” He closed his eyes.
Teb said patiently, “What was your worry stone, to make the dark want it?” Most otters’ worry stones were only smooth rocks from the sea floor, hung on cords around their necks to keep their paws busy and to crack clams and mussels with.
“It was a special shell. It brought visions.”
“I see.” Teb studied Hanni’s blood-streaked white face and intense brown eyes. He was a very young otter to have survived the dark’s torture. “Let’s get you back to Stilvoke Cave, where you can have rest and doctoring and a hot meal. You can tell us the rest of the story there.”
As they rose on the cold wind, the sun’s light glanced up from the ice fields in blinding flashes. Camery held Hanni close to her, snuggling his face under her chin. He was silent, sniffing the wind, staring around him with excitement at the sky full of beating wings.
When they dropped toward Stilvoke Cave, Marshy and Iceflower rose struggling on the wind to meet them. The sick dragonling’s wings seemed too heavy for her weak body. “She’s mending,” Marshy shouted, “she’s stronger!” He clung with his arms tight around her neck as she landed stumbling beside the big dragons—but she was trying. For Marshy, she was trying.
In the cave, Kiri and Camery cleaned Hanni’s wounds and spread on the dwarfs’ special salve, made from moss and oak bark. King Flam brought the little otter a rich soup of dried fish, which Hanni devoured greedily, between yawns.