CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Haarn ran, cutting through the overgrown grass that sprouted from the low valley's marshy ground. Despite the speed at which he'd been moving for hours, he knew he could run for hours more. From the wheezing gasps of his companion, he likewise knew that Druz Talimsir could not. He grew irritated again at his own inability to leave the woman, as he knew he should have. I gave her Stonefur's head, he thought in disgust. That's all I owed her. Druz gasped for breath but in a controlled manner, showing training and stamina, but her abilities were nothing when compared to the druid's. Her passage through the marshlands, punctuated with discordant splats of her boots slapping mud, echoed around them. Ahead, the valley sloped up again, leaving a thin trickle of stained brown water running through the heart of it. The long rain of the preceding day and night still wound through the land, and a tenday or more would pass before the sun burned away what the ground couldn't absorb. Haarn started up the slope, then stopped under a copse of trees. Scanning the ground for the trail he was certain he'd find, he waited for Druz. "Tymora's blessing," Druz gasped. "I thought we were never going to stop running. Have you lost the trail?" "No," Haarn said, only just keeping the scorn from his voice. The skeleton's trail was there for anyone to see. Over the last three miles, the stink of moldy, dead flesh had carried more strongly on the air. They were much closer than they had been, practically on the undead abomination's heels. "Wait here," he told her. "What are you going to do?" Haarn didn't pause to answer her. It was surprising how many questions she asked, but he supposed it was because she was used to being in control. "Haarn," she called after him, irritating him further because she must have known how far her voice would carry. "Wait," he growled over his shoulder. He raced up the side of the valley, finding the firmest spots and rocky shelves at a glance. Running in zigzag fashion, he spotted the trail he was looking for. A dolodrium plant, one of those that sprang up when the rainy season started and turned the drylands to verdant marsh, lay broken and twisted on the ground. An imprint beneath it, the one that had broken the frail plant, showed three toes and the ball of a skeletal foot. The thing he pursued had come this way. Despite his pressing need to eradicate the undead thing, Haarn took a moment to harvest the dolodrium blossoms. The plant was hard to find even when someone was looking for it. When harvested properly-from within the third morning sun to the moon of the fourth night, only a small window of time-the dolodrium plant yielded medicinal flowers that could be crushed and boiled into a weak tea that helped cure infections and headaches. Broadfoot snuffled only a few feet away and stepped out of the trees. The bear stood on his rear legs and scented the air, snuffling again. The prey was near, and Broadfoot knew it. Silently agreeing, Haarn followed the trail across the uncertain foundation of too-wet ground. In three other places he spotted evidence of the skeleton's passing, all of them marked by bare spots where the yellowed grass had been torn away. Haarn continued up the hill, catching Broadfoot from the corner of his eye as the bear lumbered uphill as well. Reaching the crest, he flattened and stayed within the cover offered by the scraggly brush and tall grasses. Gazing down the hillside on the other side of the valley, aware of the hot afternoon sun burning down on the back of his neck, Haarn spotted deer, rabbits, ground squirrels, and nearly three dozen different kinds of sparrows, finches, and songbirds. There were no paths, save for game trails. "Civilized" men from Turmish and other places around the Vilhon Reach had not yet found the valley. Blowing his breath out, controlling the anger that filled him, Haarn stared down at the yellowed ivory form that forced its way through the brush and tall grasses covering the eastern side of the short mountain range. Revulsion filled the druid. The skeleton showed no affinity for the living world around it, merely bulling its way through whatever obstacles it encountered. Already, the skeleton was a quarter of a mile away and moving at a steady pace, unhampered by the fatigue of flesh, running on the mystical energies that had called it forth. Broadfoot snuffled again, sounding angry this time. Wanting to take advantage of surprise, Haarn lifted his arms and spoke a shapeshifting spell. Magic flowed throughout his body, molding it along the lines of the great horned owl. Pain, only a little discomforting because it was so small, echoed throughout his body as he changed. His father had told him that not every druid with the ability to shapechange suffered through any pain at all, but that some agonized during the spell. In his owl shape, Haarn leaped from the mountain's crest and caught the north, northeasterly winds. The druid lifted from the mountain, tilting his wings. Broadfoot grumbled in displeasure. The bear had never cared for Haarn's abilities to alter his shape and leave him behind. An owl's sight was far keener than Haarn's own half-elf eyes. The terrain revealed itself to him in intimate detail, and he seemed able to track every motion. He whipped his wings, gaining altitude to get a better view of the countryside. He saw Druz Talimsir stumble up the mountainside, stubbornly not giving up the pursuit. Broadfoot took to the foliage, racing down the mountain to intercept the skeleton, which so far had given no notice that it even knew anyone was around. Marsh hares and brightly colored birds scattered ahead of the skeleton. Screams from the angry birds that had been feasting on floating eggs and drowned lizards and rats filled the sky. Haarn winged toward the skeleton. Flying came naturally to the druid in his owl form, and he'd had years of experience. Sunlight glinted from his claws as he sped toward the skeleton. Something warned the creature before Haarn arrived. The druid knew he made no sound gliding on the owl's wings. He thought perhaps his shadow had fallen over the ground in front of the skeleton, then he realized he'd flown into the sun, which still hung slightly to the east. He reached the skeleton only a heartbeat before his shadow did. Still, the undead thing whirled and drew up an ivory arm to ward off Haarn's attack. Haarn raked at the creature with his owl's claws. The hard black nails tried to rip the ivory bone of the skeleton's uplifted arm, but left only scratches as Haarn passed. Wheeling high in the sky, shutting his eyes tight against the sun, Haarn gloried in the rush of air sweeping by him. Part of his owl's mind wanted nothing more than to follow the wind and leave anything earthbound far behind him, but he controlled the impulse and stretched out his wings, gliding around in a tight circle to his left. Glancing down, he spotted his prey. The skeleton ran, ducking under scraggly trees and brush, disappearing at times, but the cover didn't last for long. Though the ground was marsh at the moment, it was normally dry and baked hard. Only the hardiest grasses and less demanding of trees thrived there. Haarn flew, speeding through the air and judging from the brief glimpses of ivory when the skeleton would come into view again. When it did, he struck the foul creature in the back of the head, knocking it off balance. Flapping his wings and dropping the right one so he could see the skeleton, Haarn watched the undead thing tumble to the ground. Ruby lights glinted from the skeleton's rib cage. Haarn tried to identify the thing inside the skeleton but couldn't. Turning his attention back to the attack, he swooped again, hoping that the force with which he struck the skeleton would knock its skull from its shoulders. He knew that action sometimes destroyed the spell that animated a skeleton. The creature had only succeeded in pushing itself to its knees when Haarn struck again. His blow toppled the skeleton over on its side, but not before the creature managed to fling an arm out and strike Haarn. In his owl form, Haarn was weaker and more vulnerable. If the skeleton's blow had connected more solidly, Haarn's wing, and possibly his back, would have been broken. Off-kilter, paralyzed a little from the impact and knowing that he could no longer stay aloft, the druid spoke the spell again and struck the marshlands as a half-elf instead of an owl. Buried facedown in the muck and slime, Haarn heard the skeleton's feet slapping through the mud toward him. The druid threw himself to one side, feeling the weight of the mud clinging to his body. Even as fast as he was, the skeleton managed to catch him with part of a blow that set Haarn's ears to ringing. The thing was frightfully quick, quicker than it had any right to be. Its jaws opened, and even in the daylight Haarn could see the unnatural fire in the skull's hollows. The thing's mouth snapped open, revealing broken, jagged fangs. An odor, the musk of the grave acerbated by the dank marsh water running slowly around them, clung to the skeleton. Haarn had barely set himself to face the thing, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar, when it lunged at him.
"Are you having any luck, lady?" Shinthala Deepcrest looked up from the smooth river surface she'd been studying. She shaded her eyes against the late morning sun to glance at her unexpected visitor. "Ashenford Torinbow," she greeted, rising from where she sat beside the Calling River. Despite the fear that thundered in her heart and the fatigue that gripped her from maintaining the scrying spell she'd been using, she summoned a smile for the man who stepped down from the rocky shelves toward her. "Lady," the half-elf said, taking Shinthala's offered hands in his own and kissing them gently. "You are as beauteous as ever. A sunrise full of her own glory." Torinbow's greeting embarrassed Shinthala. Despite her position as one of the Elder Circle of the Emerald Enclave, she wasn't used to such pretty words. "You came all this way to turn my head with your flattery?" she asked. Torinbow squeezed her hands and released them. "Lady, I came here to Ilighon only to visit with you, and perhaps to sup of good Kate's table while we talk of my travels along the Vilhon Reach." Shinthala took her hands from Torinbow's. He was a half-elf with pale blue eyes and golden skin. At five eight he was still inches below Shinthala's own six feet plus in height. His light brown hair was neatly coifed and hung in curls to his shoulders. "How long have you been on Ilighon?" she asked. "Only long enough to disembark the ship that brought me to Sapra then begin the long march here to the Elder Spires." "I suppose you've heard the news." "About the beast being freed from Eldath's prison?" Torinbow nodded. "I didn't sleep since I heard of it this morning, and the trip over by ship wasn't restful with the storm playing hob as it was." Remembering her manners, Shinthala asked, "Have you supped?" Torinbow shrugged. "A bit of crust and some hard cheese along the trip up the Hierophant Trail, Lady. There wasn't much time for taking on provisions. I insisted upon leaving the city at once when I heard about Borran Kiosk. Thankfully the horses we were able to procure in Sapra were fleet of foot and strong of heart." "You learned of Borran Kiosk's freedom in Sapra?" Torinbow nodded. "Only this morning." Shinthala grimaced and said, "Then the news has spread as far as the city." "All of Sapra was talking about it while I was there, which I assure you wasn't long. Perhaps I was misled, but I think much of the news of Borran Kiosk's attacks on Alagh?n got carried over on the ships that left there last night and arrived at Sapra only this morning. Some captains chose a hasty departure. The mohrg's reputation is still strong there." Anger touched Shinthala, and she knew she wasn't much good at hiding her displeasure. Besides being a member of the Elder Circle of the Emerald Enclave-one of the three druids who were the leaders of that organization-she'd also led battles against Malar's forces as a hierophant druid. "Tongues wag too easily these days," she said. "It's the war, Lady, and the changes that have taken place within the Sea of Fallen Stars. Much of what the citizens of Sapra knew about their sea has changed. They fear what happened to the Whamite Isles might someday happen to them." "There is no chance of that," Shinthala declared, then gestured up the plateau above them at the open structure of wood and granite that provided only meager shelter from the elements. "Not as long as the Emerald Enclave chooses to maintain the House of Silvanus here." "May Silvanus forever bless this place." Torinbow touched his chest over his heart respectfully. Shinthala echoed the blessing then turned her gaze higher up the plateau. Other druids were there in the House of Silvanus. Some of them were deep in prayer and meditation, while others had returned to the Emerald Enclave's stronghold to heal and exchange knowledge. The Calling River at Shinthala's feet started out as one of the three waterfalls that spilled from the plateau that was the House of Silvanus. While the Calling River ran south from the Elder Spires, the Springbrook and the Elder Rivers ran to the east and the north. All of the waterfalls plunged into the waiting rivers below and created a misty skirt that surrounded the House of Silvanus. The Hierophant Trail was the only overland trail allowed on the island, and it was barely visible through the thick forest laden with heavy boughs. The rest of the island was protected and sanctioned by the druids who dwelled there. No one traveled throughout the rest of Ilighon who wasn't a druid or ranger or someone who knew woodcraft and respected nature. Sapra was ten miles away. Torinbow and his group had made good time. "Come," she said. "I fear I'm growing lax in my duties as a hostess. I've some journeycake put away. Kate will prepare the midday meal soon, and the journeycake will break your fast till then." "Thank you, lady." Shinthala led the way toward the House of Silvanus. Even after years of service as an Elder of the Emerald Enclave, she drew a lot of attention from the younger druids encamped among them. She knew the attention was due to her height. Many expected humans to be tall but had not seen many women over six feet. Gray had started to touch her long, dark brown hair at the temples, but her green eyes were as bright and clear as ever. The only sounds around them were the rivers burbling and the wild things that filled the forest and the sky. Only occasional wisps of conversation came Shinthala's way, but she heard the name of Borran Kiosk repeated several times. She led the way up the plateau, leaning into her ascent. "Have the other druids around Alagh?n and the coastal cities been warned of Borran Kiosk's return?" Torinbow asked. He trailed along closely behind her, as sure-footed as a mountain goat. "Birds were sent out early this morning," Shinthala said. "Have you talked to any of them?" 'Two," Shinthala said. "I contacted Mornis and Chackery through the crystals we share." Only a few of the druids had the enchanted crystals. They were the same blue-white quartz that wizards often used in making crystal balls. "Neither of them had any news of Borran Kiosk's return." "Do you think that's odd?" "Not really," Shinthala said. "After all, the exodus from Alagh?n appears to be headed eastward, out to sea, rather than south into the Vilhon Reach or north or west into the marshland and desert." "The druids who faced Borran Kiosk all those years ago left an army of undead buried in that marshland and desert," Torinbow said. "The citizens of Alagh?n surely remember that. They're probably fearful that they'll run into that same army again, once more raised from the earth." "The undead things that stood with Borran Kiosk in Morningstar Hollows will never rise again," Shinthala said. "Those who served the Emerald Enclave then made certain of that." "No one thought Borran Kiosk would rise again, either." Despite her calm nature, Shinthala almost lost her temper. Since learning of Borran Kiosk's return, she'd spent all morning with her scrying spells and the effort had nearly exhausted her. She said, "It's still not been proven that he has." "You've not been able to find him?" At the top of the plateau, Shinthala stepped through a forest of sensual delight. Vibrant growth showed everywhere. Trees and flowering bushes caught the eye only for a moment as woodland creatures scampered through them and birds glided through the air. Songbird music and flower fragrances rode the gentle wind. Shinthala knew every song and every scent. "No," she told Torinbow as she gazed at the House of Silvanus. No matter how many times she had seen the sacred place, she never lost her wonder of it. The druids who'd built the House of Silvanus had constructed it from the natural materials at hand. They took advantage of the shapes of trees and enhanced the rocky shelves that provided some respite from the elements. During part of the day, light filtered into the inner courtyards, then was shaded as the sun tracked across the sky. At night, guests in the House of Silvanus could gaze upon the stars. Water burbled and ran around the island that housed the main body of the structure. Fed from an underground spring, the small lake was thirty feet deep in some places and had steep sides. The central core of the spring ran down through the plateau and into the mountains. Over the years, druids had sought the source of the spring, trying to discover what pushed the water up to such incredible heights. None had been able to fathom its true depth, but there was speculation that the spring was fed from a source deep below even the sea bottom that surrounded them. "If Borran Kiosk is once more at large," Shinthala continued, "I can't find him. Perhaps someone more gifted than me will be able to." "If you can't find the mohrg, dear lady," Torinbow said gently, "I dare say no one could." Shinthala stopped, stretched out her hand, and tracked her fingers through an open blossom. Golden pollen stuck to her fingertips. The sweet powder glistened in the swath of sunlight just within her reach. The heavy buzzing sound of a bumblebee reached her ears only a moment before she saw the fat-bodied creature. She remained still as the bumblebee flew to her fingers. The insect drew the pollen from her fingertips then flew off in its zigzag manner. "What do you think, Ashenford?" Shinthala asked. "Do you think the monster once more walks the coast of the Vilhon Reach?" Torinbow hesitated then said, "I don't want to assume that these are just stories spreading from a few drunken men with nothing else to do… and there is the tale of the slaughtered priests of Eldath." "That story is true," Shinthala said. "I received a message myself from a senior priest of Eldath's temple in Alagh?n. The priests were murdered by an unknown hand in the graveyard where Borran Kiosk was imprisoned." "The possibility exists that someone else could have murdered them there to encourage that conclusion," Torinbow said. Shinthala gazed out at the children of the druids who summered on Ilighon. Toddlers of both sexes played in the water with leaf boats they'd made, or chased butterflies under the supervision of their parents and their animal companions. Shinthala said, "I didn't defend Gulthmere Forest against Malar's forces by assuming every rumor I heard was only that." "Perhaps your tie to the mohrg just isn't strong enough," the half-elf suggested. Reaching into the leather pouch at her waist, Shinthala took out an object and showed it to the half-elf. Torinbow nudged the cylindrical object with a