A shiver crawled up Shara’s back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They reached the valley while dawn was still only a pale glow in the east. Albanon paused at the height of the narrow trail-little more than a deer trail, really-and looked down into the lush bowl. The trees that filled most of it had turned from green to a mix of red, yellow, and brown with autumn, but still retained enough leaves to partly hide the few open clearings. Water splashed and gurgled in a broad, spring-fed pool off to his right.
In the distance to his left rose a tall, stern rock face, exactly what he had imagined when he’d so casually dropped it into his lie. Or what he thought he had imagined. During the night’s long, dark march, he had started to wonder if that detail hadn’t been so random or casual after all. If Tharizdun’s influence had drawn him north, perhaps the thought of the rock face had been the Chained God’s doing as well. A way of making sure they found this place.
“What are you thinking?” Tempest asked, stopping beside him.
“I thought I’d feel something,” he said. “We followed the urge. We’ve made the journey. I thought there would be something more. A sense of completion. A feeling of familiarity.”
“Shining lights? An ethereal choir?” she said with a slight smile. He wrinkled his nose at her. The smile grew wider. “What do you feel?”
“Uneasy. I don’t like this place.”
“What about the urge?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “Still there. This isn’t over yet.” He lifted an arm and pointed right at the cliff. “There.”
“If you look closely, you can see the peryton nests,” said Hurn from behind them. He reached past and pointed. “Those dark shadows high up on the rock? Those are the ledges on which they perch.” The shifter gave them both a shove. “Now move. We need to be in position before the sun comes up.”
Their position turned out to be in one of the wider clearings in the valley, a low, rock-strewn knoll. Turbull and most of his warriors were already there. The Tigerclaws stayed under the cover of the trees for the most part, hiding their numbers in case the perytons happened to rouse earlier than expected. Three shifters at a time would break from cover, dashing out onto the knoll to labor with swift intensity before running back so another group could take their place. Curious, Albanon watched their activity as he and the others skirted the clearing to join Turbull. A small fire ring had been assembled from stones picked off the ground and wood laid for a fire by a shifter who always kept one eye on the looming cliff. The other two shifters labored at something like a giant auger, twisting a stout shaft of wood into the ground between them. One shaft was already embedded in the ground with roughly a double handspan still exposed. The Tigerclaws finished planting the second shaft as the wizard watched, pulling a double-ended handle off the shaft and passing it to a new team who carried a third shaft.
The second shaft wasn’t as deep into the ground as the first. Turbull grunted as they approached him. “The ground is too rocky,” he said. “Too late to move now, though. We won’t get another chance.”
“What is that?” asked Quarhaun.
“A stake-bore,” Belen answered. “The Tigerclaws use it when they put up their tents.”
Turbull glanced at the human woman. “You learned that from Scargash’s emissaries?”
Albanon saw Belen’s face tighten as she tried to conceal the secret of her knowledge. “One of the younger warriors took me hunting and showed me how to put up a tent.”
That earned a leer from Hurn. “I bet he did.”
Cariss slapped the hunter across the back of the head. Turbull just shrugged and turned back to the clearing. “Why are you setting up a camp?” Albanon asked him.
“We’re not setting up a camp. We’re setting up a trap.” The chief pointed. “The stakes aren’t for a tent. They’re for tying people to the ground.”
Uldane yelped a little. “Why would you want to do that?”
Albanon guessed. “To keep them from being carried away,” he said. “A peryton is strong enough to lift a person up in its talons. If this looks like a camp with sleeping people, the perytons will investigate-but they might just as easily try to snatch someone up.”
“So whoever is out there gets to be the worm on the hook?” Uldane made a face. “I don’t like this plan.”
“The stakes are a safeguard,” said Turbull defensively. “That’s why they have to be in deep enough that they can’t be pulled out. The rest of us will hide around the edges of the clearing. As soon as the perytons come in, we attack.” He smiled, showing his teeth. “We pin them down and slaughter them.”
Shara regarded him with a hard expression. “And would you have been so quick to attack if Quarhaun and I were your bait?”
The smile wavered. “The situation has changed. You’re not our prisoners. The ones who sit in the open to draw the perytons will gain much respect.”
She snorted in disbelief. “So it will be some of your Tigerclaws?”
Turbull’s smile closed and compressed into a thin, hard line. “If necessary. But I said the perytons are wily. If we want them to come close, we need to use something that will attract and hold their attention. They’re supposed to have a favorite prey.”
“Let me guess. Young women?”
“No.” Turbull turned and looked at Albanon, then at Quarhaun. “Elves.”
Quarhaun scowled. “I’m not an elf. I’m a drow. And Albanon is an eladrin. If you think we’re going to risk our lives-”
“I’ll do it,” said Albanon. He took a deep breath and met the gazes around him. Quarhaun looked startled. Tempest looked frightened. Roghar looked at him with pride and approval-naturally the paladin would approve of a selfless act. Albanon carried on before he lost his nerve. “Eladrin are cousins to elves. If I’m the best choice to draw the perytons down, I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?” asked Shara. “Roghar and I are better equipped to defend ourselves. Wouldn’t you be better off staying back and using your spells from a distance?”
“If the perytons really are that wily, they may recognize your sword or Roghar’s armor. I don’t need either of those things. My magic is just as effective close up.”
“But can you control it?” said Tempest.
The question put a knot in his stomach. “Yes,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to give in again.” He turned to Quarhaun. “But I wouldn’t mind some help, and two ‘elves’ would be a more effective lure than just one.”
The drow’s eyes opened wide, baring white orbs in his jet black face. “Unlike you, I’m not suicidal. Besides, if the perytons are smart enough to recognize swords and armor, they’re smart enough to recognize I’m no elf.”
“You hadn’t heard of perytons before. I’m reasonably certain they’ve never seen a drow. At the very least you’ll confuse them and give the others a better opportunity to attack.”
“ ‘At the very least,’ ” Quarhaun repeated drily. “You make it sound so noble. No.”
“I think Albanon’s right, Quarhaun,” said Shara. “You can defend each other-and this is going to get us closer to defeating Vestapalk. We spent weeks wandering around the north when Belen had the clue to finding him all along.” She stepped closer to the drow. “We can’t keep working alone.”
Quarhaun’s expression wavered, but he still didn’t answer. Albanon decided to try one last appeal. In Elven, he said, “Do you remember the Temple of Yellow Skulls, when Vestapalk had infected us with the Voidharrow so he could turn us into two of his demon exarchs? We were both almost lost until Kri came. I’m the one who made him use his prayers and the light of the gods to purge the Voidharrow from both of us. Without me, you wouldn’t be here.”
Quarhaun gave him a narrow glare before replying in the same language. “You’re trying to call in a debt from a drow?”
“No. I’m calling in a debt from you. You say you’re different. I thought maybe you’d like the opportunity to prove it.”