You are too late, fool. The boy is at the stake, and the torch is in my hand. The ring is already on my finger!
"You're a lying whore," Spyder answered. "The ring can't be tempered until the moon is completely eclipsed."
"Lying whore," Ronal repeated sarcastically as he hurried along on Spyder's heels. "I like that. It has a ring-oh, pardon me!"
You and your witless lackey are far outnumbered. If you do find us, I'll eat your heart with a spoon.
Spyder's eyes narrowed as he felt Rime's power weighing down upon him. Her words were more than mere words; they were tiny spells designed to feed his doubts, to erode his confidence, to slow him. Despite himself, he glanced over his shoulder again. No more than a quarter of the moon remained. And in the instant that he diverted his attention from his path, he stumbled over an unseen root. Yet, he caught himself and did not fall.
"You're wrong, Witch," Spyder said through clenched teeth. Her power was subtle, but he resisted it with all his will. Yes, he had doubts-about himself and about his purpose. But he had no doubts about his abilities. "There are more than two of us stalking you tonight. I am numberless as the stars that grow brighter even as the moon dims. You speak to my mind, but you can't see me. I'm right behind you, and my knife is at your throat!"
He felt as much as heard her gasp. Now it's you who lie, Rankan!
A cold sneer turned up the corners of Spyder's mouth. "But it's you who flinched, bitch."
At last he knew he was on the right course. He heard the desperation in her words as she strove to delay him, and panic lent her thought-sendings a serrated edge. More, he was certain that the glow he saw ahead was firelight. It flickered among the trunks and branches, danced on the leaves. And yet with that sense of certainty a new fear came. Rime had said the boy was already at the stake!
"Spyder!"
Steel rang loudly on steel, and Spyder's eyes snapped wide at the sound of his name. For an instant, Rime had almost trapped him in his own web of doubt, and he had to admire the subtlety of her effort even as he shrugged off its effects.
Rime laughed inside his head. You are surrounded, Rankan. In moments you will be dead!
Three of Rime's coven brothers leaped out of the foliage and ran at him. Their nude bodies were painted with green mud and black slime. More mud dulled the metal sheen of their swords. The sounds of combat behind him indicated that Ronal was already engaged.
Spyder's hand went to the dagger on his belt, and the glittering blade flashed under the reddening moon as it flew straight to the nearest attacker's throat. A second Nisi rushed at him, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc. Spyder ducked low and side-stepped, and as he straightened he freed his own sword, raked it through the man's mid-section. Without pausing, he smashed his booted foot into the third Nisi's groin. It failed to have the expected effect- perhaps the man was a eunuch?-and Spyder dodged and parried a wild flurry of strokes.
"You'll learn not to meddle in the affairs of your betters!" the Nisi shouted, pausing to catch his breath.
"Here's a lesson for you," Spyder answered. He spun sharply, ripping a handful of leaves from a bush and flinging them at his foe's eyes. The Nisi recoiled, instinctively jerking his head away to protect his sight, and never saw the Enlibar sword before it bit deeply into his neck.
"And the witless lackey scores three on his own," Ronal said with mocking calm. At his feet on the muddy ground lay three more coven members. He tore leaves from a bush and wiped his blade.
Spyder turned toward the distant fire. "No words, Rime?" he shouted as he sheathed his sword. "Do you feel my breath on your neck, Witch?"
A pantherish roar sounded from the trees nearby. Startled, Ronal jumped and stumbled over one of the bodies, landing on his back. "Shite!" he cursed as he scrambled to his feet again. "That damned beast is getting too close for comfort!" He kicked the body he'd fallen over. "Maybe this meat will satisfy its appetite. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
But Spyder was already off again through the swamp, his gaze fixed on the fire. The ground turned muddy once more, slowing him, and he waded through a shallow stream. He brushed aside low limbs and vines and tried to brush away thoughts of quicksand. Rime spoke to him no more; the drums did her talking now, and he felt their power like waves on his skin. He glanced yet again at the moon. It was nearly gone.
He remembered the clouds he'd seen far out over Hag's Teeth. If Rime couldn't see the moon it might affect the timing of her spells. But that was too small a hope; those clouds were too thin and too far away.
What was worse, he wondered as he began to run. Failing to destroy the ring? That would mean another war with Nis, one that neither Ranke, nor Ilsig, could afford. Or losing the boy, Lisoh. That would break Aaliyah's heart. Why was he even asking the question now? He had his duty to the empire. No matter that it had ruined his family and declared him outcast-Ranke still commanded his loyalty.
Yet, it was Aaliyah, though, who commanded his heart.
He leaped a barricade of twisted roots, ducked under a low branch and dodged the gaping mouth of a hissing serpent that hung from it. Puddles splashed under his feet. He no longer valued stealth. Only speed mattered. A grove of willow trees loomed before him. A pale mist drifted over the grass, unnaturally thick, he thought, but there was no time to find a way around. He feared losing sight of the fire if he veered off course.
Clouds. Mist.
Perhaps.
The air turned chilly again, and a light fog began to eddy over the ground. Wispy tendrils swirled lazily upward, diffusing on the air. The stars, so bright in a crisp sky, began to waver and fade as a gray veil obscured their light. Stubbornly, the remaining sliver of moonlight lingered, yet moment by moment, the milky effluvium rose and deepened. The Swamp of Night Secrets seemed to shrink in upon itself as one by one the stars vanished entirely.
Spyder ran, narrowly avoiding trees and obstacles in his path. Only the barest hint of fireglow remained, and he focused his gaze on that and nothing else. He was sure Ronal was behind him, but he didn't know where. He didn't hear any sound of pursuit. Indeed, he didn't hear anything but those frantic drums and his own harsh breathing and his sloshing footfalls.
Then, he stopped suddenly, grabbing desperately at a slender tree to catch his balance as he found himself at the edge of a fifteen foot high embankment above a narrow tributary. A black Vasalan ship sat anchored on a river of mist at the opposite bank, its mast swaying ever so slowly. Not one, but three crackling bonfires burned on that far side. The lanky silhouettes of Nis witches danced around them, their shapes and movements twisted, distorted by the fog.
He stared for a moment, tasting desperation.
Again, he glanced over his shoulder through the branches above his head. There was no moon to see-only fog.
Securing his sword with one hand, he slipped and slid down the embankment, finishing the descent on his backside before he hit the water with a splash. He didn't worry about the noise. The drumming covered any sound he was likely to make. He began to swim with fast, furious strokes.
Quanali pahabaril maha elberah yora. Aaliyah stole into his thoughts like a warm wind, soothing and reassuring him. Each time we part, my heart cries. He remembered the first time he said that to her, how she slipped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. It had become their ritual farewell, but he had forgotten to tell her before he left the shop tonight.
Quanali muriel maba elberah canta. She was in his head, in his heart and blood. Each time we meet, my heart sings! Only a month ago, he'd found her searching for her brother along the Nis border. She'd looked-Ronal had put it rightly-lonely and strange, more than a little lost.