He decided their best chance was to make use of the chain of waterways and lakes formed by the surface water, wading through in directions that would confuse the beasts. Leading the way, he took the girl into deeper water that covered their feet and ankles and then slogged ahead across vast stretches linked by connecting streams, careful never to step out of the water, never to touch ground that might give them away.

"We could double back on them," Prue suggested at one point, but he quickly shook his head.

"Too dangerous. If they get between us and the fortress, we have no chance at all. We keep going ahead."

She didn't argue. She did not complain or ask to rest. She did not slow. She just did what she was told. He admired this girl.

"How long have you known Sider Ament?" he asked after a time, weary of the silence.

She shrugged. "A few weeks. I only knew of him before that."

"That's long enough, I guess. I only met him recently myself. First I knew of anyone living in those mountains. Why didn't your people come out of there before now? What kept you in hiding?"

"It's a long story. We couldn't leave. We were warded by magic that locked us in. The valley was all we knew."

"Bet you wish that was still the case, don't you?"

"It would be easier. But the barrier's down and it won't come back up. We have to face life outside the valley, like it or not." She glanced over, her green eyes unsettling. "How did you become a mercenary?"

He shrugged. "I needed a way to make a living. I didn't have any people, no family, no anything. I'd been on my own since I was ten or twelve. I was living in a village south of here and doing what I could to stay alive. I used to scavenge for things in the ruins that I could barter or sell." He pointed at the weapons slung over his right shoulder. "These brought in good money. I tried using them, found I could, decided to take up a new trade. It made me a valuable commodity to those in search of an edge against their enemies. I liked how that made me feel."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Sometimes. Everyone does. But I like living alone, being on my own, making my own decisions. Safer that way. Did Sider tell you about what it's like out here?"

She shook her head. "I only met him the one time. I haven't seen him since. But I can guess what it's like."

He laughed softly. "No, you can't."

He proceeded to describe it in detail, a straightforward recitation that left nothing out. He embellished a little, but not much. It wasn't necessary. Things were horrible enough as they were without the need to add anything. She only needed to grasp the gist of it. So he described the killings and the enslavement and the destruction, the basic elements of the savagery that had dominated everyone's life in the aftermath of the Great Wars-or at least everyone who hadn't found the sort of shelter from which she came.

She listened carefully and didn't interrupt. When he was finished, she said, "You're right. I couldn't have guessed at most of it. I don't know how you tolerate it."

"I don't think about it," he said. "I don't let it get too close."

She frowned. "But it's all around you."

"It helps to have these," he said, touching his weapons. "They keep everything at a distance."

From behind them, closer now, the baying of the Skaith Hounds rose and died. Inch glanced over his shoulder. It sounded like the beasts were farther west, perhaps following a false trail. "Let's keep moving."

They walked on for another hour, the day winding down. He thought they were getting close to the fortress, but he couldn't be certain in the shroud of darkness and damp. He didn't usually come at it from this direction, in any case. Everything looked different.

A fresh round of baying rose out of the silence, deep and powerful. The girl stopped where she was and looked back. "They've found our trail. They're coming for us."

"Maybe not," he said, not liking how certain she seemed.

"No, they're coming. I can feel it. It's my gift to know. My instincts warn me when I'm threatened. They're warning me now."

He wasn't sure he believed her, but he didn't see any point in taking chances. He quickened their pace, moving out of the water slicks and onto solid ground again. They needed to get out of the open, to put some walls between themselves and their pursuers. But they would have to hurry. If they failed to reach cover before dark, they would have no chance at all.

The baying rose and fell, continuous now. It was getting stronger, closer. The girl was right. The Skaith Hounds had found their trail. He gave momentary consideration to turning around and waiting for them, setting an ambush to kill them all. Without the hounds, the Drouj would have difficulty tracking anyone in this weather. But the risk was too great. If he failed to kill even one of the beasts, they would lose any advantage they might gain by staying ahead of the pursuit.

He slipped the flechette from his shoulder, released the safety, and clutched the big gun to his chest. He would be ready for them.

All of a sudden there were ruins ahead, a maze of half walls and collapsed roofs, of pa.s.sageways and rubble. For just an instant he thought they had reached his fortress keep. Then he realized these were only the outbuildings. Still, any sort of protection was better than none. The walls at least gave them something to stand behind when the Trolls caught up to them. Even a piece of a wall would ...

He was in midthought as the Skaith Hound launched itself at him from out of the darkness, a deadly, silent a.s.sa.s.sin. The huge beast was on him before he could bring the flechette to bear, knocking him backward off his feet and onto the ground. He only just managed to get the flechette between himself and the hound's jaws, jamming the barrel between the rows of teeth as he fought to fling the animal off. He heard the girl scream, and a second hound appeared, racing across the open ground to join the first. The barrel of the flechette was pointed right at it, and he pulled the trigger while it was still a dozen feet away, the charge tearing into it.

Then he used all of his considerable strength to heave the first beast clear and used the weapon a second time.

He looked around quickly, the barrel of the flechette sweeping the darkness. Nothing else appeared, although he could hear more baying in the distance. There was no hiding now. They would have to stand and fight.

"Inside!" he ordered the girl, gesturing toward the ruins.

She leapt to obey and they hastened through the maze of walls, working their way deep into the cl.u.s.ter of buildings. They were still several hundred yards from the safety of the fortress, but they might reach it if nothing else slowed them down. He found himself laboring as he ran, which surprised him. Then he glanced down and saw the blood soaking his left leg. The first hound had managed to savage it, ripping through the leathers and body armor.

He was bleeding freely, and he could feel the muscles tightening up. He knew what that meant.

Don't think about it!

Guttural cries rose from behind them. Trolls. They had discovered the bodies of the Skaith Hounds. Fresh baying rose and died. It was suddenly silent save for the sound of his breathing and their footfalls. The girl was keeping pace, darting this way and that through the debris, negotiating their pa.s.sage effortlessly. It made him smile for just a moment. She was a keeper. He'd wondered a moment earlier why he had let himself get into this mess, but now he decided he knew.

Arrows flew past his head, and then one buried itself in his back. But the leathers and the armor stopped its penetration. He s.n.a.t.c.hed at the girl, pulling her down behind a wall just ahead, and he turned, swinging up the barrel of the flechette. He fired three times, booming coughs that ruptured the stillness and ended a handful of lives in seconds. Without pausing to consider the number of dead, he was up and running anew, pulling the girl after him.

"There's more!" she screamed, just as several bodies vaulted a low wall to their left, spears thrusting. They missed the girl, but skewered him, shoulder and leg both. He killed his attackers quickly, efficiently. He bent down and broke off the spearheads and pulled free the shafts. It cost him something to do that, but he didn't hesitate or shy away from it.

Bleeding now from several wounds, he backed away with the girl behind him, watching the darkness. "Anything?" he asked her.

"No. They've fallen back. But not far."

Of course, not far. They had him now. Her, too, if he didn't do something about it. Then all this would have been for nothing.

He dropped behind another wall and knelt close to her. "I want you to go on ahead without me. Don't argue. You have to reach the fortress and open the door for me. I won't have time for that once I catch up. The locks are hidden. But I can show you how to find them. Listen carefully."

He told her where to go and what to do. He made sure she understood. He sketched a quick map in the dirt, which showed her the route she must follow. "Go now," he told her.

She shook her head, the first time she had questioned him. "I can stay and help ..."

"You don't have a weapon, and you don't have fighting skills. You'll only slow me down if I have to worry about protecting you. Here, take this."

He handed her a f.l.a.n.g.e automatic, a twelve-shot handgun he had recovered from its hiding place about five years back and restored to working order. He showed her how to use it-how to release the safety, how to hold the weapon steady, how to fire it once or multiple times. "Just in case," he told her.

She nodded once, and then she was off, sprinting away into the darkness. Good girl, he thought. She knew, but she wasn't making a mistake by saying so, by staying to argue. He respected her for that. She was worth saving. Sider hadn't made a mistake in asking his help.

He turned back to the darkness, listening for sounds of approaching Trolls. An attack was inevitable, but it might not come right away. He backed into the ruins a little farther, searching the walls and doorways for the right spot. He found it finally, a corner slot formed by adjoining walls beneath a deep overhang. They could only get at him from in front.

He braced himself against the walls once he was concealed in the shadows, reloaded the flechette, and propped the spray up next to him. Then he looped a cord around the firing pins of three of the flash-bangs and fastened them to his chest armor where they could be easily reached. He set two more of the explosive devices on a protruding stone on his left, then changed his mind and moved them to another on the right. His left arm wasn't working well enough to do anything more than brace the stock of whatever weapon he was holding. When the attack came, he would have to move quickly.

He leaned back into the darkened corner and waited. It was a good run, he thought. I don't like that it's ending, but you don't always get much of a say in that sort of thing. You just take what's given you. He would miss seeing Sider again. But the girl would explain. What was her name? Prue, wasn't it? It fit her.

Time stopped. The night went still, the darkness closed about, and his breath turned to frost on the cold air. He could almost make himself believe he was going to get out of this.

The attack came all at once and without warning. But he was ready, and he fired the Tyson into everything that moved until it was empty, jammed in a second clip and fired again. He was struck repeatedly by arrows and darts, but most failed to penetrate and nothing did any real damage until the Drouj came at him in waves. By then the flechette was empty and he was using the spray, riddling the bodies until they were stacked all around him, Trolls and Skaith Hounds alike.

There was a small lull, and he found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. He was still laughing when they came at him a final time, too many for him to stop, and as they reached him he pulled the cord attached to the pins on the flash-bangs and everything disappeared in sound and fury.

THIRTY.

MILES AWAY, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAINS, the Gray Man was trekking west toward the pa.s.s at Declan Reach. It was night and he was traveling quickly. He was no longer tracking Arik Siq; his quarry's destination already known, his course fixed. Matters had taken an unexpected turn here, too, and here, too, time was running out.

When he had left Arborlon in pursuit of the deceiver, he had begun tracking him under the a.s.sumption that he was escaping the city with the intention of going back through Aphalion Pa.s.s. If his purpose in coming into the valley in the first place was to gather information that would aid the Drouj in their planned invasion, he would be anxious to impart to his father what he had learned before his duplicity was discovered. In order to do that in the fastest way possible, he would take the shortest route out of the valley, and that meant going through Aphalion.

So Sider had set out in that direction, not bothering with trying to pick up the Troll's footprints, choosing instead to sacrifice caution for speed in order to reach the pa.s.s quickly. He did so, only to learn from the Elves on watch that no Trolls had pa.s.sed that way in the past week. The Orullian brothers, in particular, were adamant that no one could have gotten past the watch they had set at both ends of the pa.s.s without someone finding out. Since no sightings or incidents had been reported, Arik Siq must have gone another way.

It was a disturbing discovery, and after doing his own reconnaissance of the terrain surrounding the pa.s.s, the Gray Man went back down the interior slopes of the mountains toward Arborlon, this time checking carefully for some indication of where the elusive Troll had gone.

He found it when he was almost all the way back to the Elven city and scouring the terrain above the forest where the boy Xac Wen had last seen the Troll going down the Carolan. The tracks he found were clearly made by a Troll, so the Gray Man was able to follow them easily enough. To his surprise, they led northwest upslope into the foothills for only several miles before turning directly west.

Shortly after that, in a dense forest formed by a mix of hardwoods and conifers grown so thick it was impossible to see much of anything once you were in their midst, he found something that caused him both confusion and concern. In a clearing ringed by spruce, he discovered tracks made by dozens of Trolls and a handful of four-footed beasts that had come down out of the high country west of Aphalion. Having joined up with Arik Siq, the entire bunch had set out west along the high slopes, carefully keeping to the shelter of the ridges and forests below the snow line.

At first, Sider couldn't figure out what all the Trolls and their beasts were doing. The pattern of the tracks seemed to indicate that they knew Arik Siq was coming and had waited for him. There were no indications of a disturbance, nothing to show that his arrival was unexpected. But if the Trolls were Drouj, how had they managed to get into the valley without being seen? How had they managed to communicate the details of this meeting with Arik Siq without speaking to him directly?

Sider couldn't be sure of the answer to the latter question, but he deduced an answer to the former pretty quickly. The beasts accompanying the Drouj were Skaith Hounds, which explained almost everything. When he had brought Arik Siq into the valley, there were no defenses in the pa.s.s, nothing to prevent anyone living outside from entering. The a.s.sumption was that no one could find a way in because no one knew where the pa.s.ses were. But they had all overlooked the obvious. Simply by returning, they had left a trail. Skaith Hounds could track a quarry anywhere, as Deladion Inch had told him earlier, and since Arik Siq was already planning to betray the valley's secrets, he had simply arranged before leaving camp to have the hounds set on their trail as soon as they were safely out of sight.

Which meant that the Trolls who had gathered to meet with Taureq's duplicitous son could have found Aphalion Pa.s.s easily and gotten safely inside the valley long before the first Elves arrived to set watch and build their defenses. They could have prearranged a meeting and waited for its time to roll around by hiding out somewhere high up in the rocks where they would be safe from discovery. How they had managed to decide when and where the meeting was to take place remained a mystery, but it seemed clear to the Gray Man that this was what had happened.

But now that they had joined up, where were they going? What was their purpose?

Sider thought he knew, and it sent a cold spike through his heart. There was only one logical answer. Knowing that the Elves had dispatched a heavily armed force to Aphalion Pa.s.s, which very likely would be keeping watch in both directions, Arik Siq had chosen to take a less difficult route out of the valley. The men of Glensk Wood would be working at Declan Reach. They were neither as well trained nor as experienced as the Elves. Declan Reach would offer the Trolls the path of least resistance.

If the Drouj had gone that way, time was precious. They already had the better part of a day's lead on him, so Sider knew he had to hurry if he was to arrive in time not only to prevent their escape but also to save the men who otherwise would have the thankless task of trying to stop it by themselves. In truth, he did not think they were up to it. Even if they were not caught by surprise-which was something of a stretch, given the cunning of Arik Siq-they were not trained fighters.

He also knew there was a good chance that Panterra Qu would be among those working in the pa.s.s. He would be at risk along with all the others, but unlike all the others his life had special value.

It was a harsh way to look at things, but Sider Ament could not afford to think of it in any other terms. The boy was the one he had been searching for, the one who would best serve to carry the black staff after him. Panterra Qu might not realize it now, might not accept that it was so, but that didn't change the fact of it. Given time, Sider would be able to persuade him that committing to serve after him and learning how the staff and its magic could help the people of the valley survive was his destiny. He might resist it at first, but in the end he would come to understand that it was the right thing to do.

But any possibility of that happening would be lost if the boy was killed in an attack on the workers at Declan Reach. There was no way to get word to them in time, no possibility of warning them if he didn't do it himself.

A long shot, at best, he admitted. He might already be too late. He might have squandered his chances by a.s.suming that his quarry had gone through Aphalion.

But he couldn't afford to think that way, and so he didn't.

He simply pressed ahead all the harder, his determination sheathed in iron.

PANTERRA QU WAS SLEEPING, rolled up in his blanket, a.s.sailed by troubling dreams that ate away at his rest like termites did wood. The dreams were all of Prue, alone among the Trolls, helpless and afraid, fighting to stay calm in the face of catastrophe. She was a prisoner, then an escapee, then a prisoner once more, and so it went, on and on. Her struggles were all the same-desperate, hopeless attempts at finding freedom when she knew no one was coming to save her. He tried to tell her it wasn't so; Sider Ament was coming, and failing that Pan himself would come. He tried to tell her, but he could not speak the words, his voice frozen. He gestured wildly, frantically, attempting to draw her attention, to make her understand he was there for her, but she did not see him. She looked everywhere but where he was, unaware of his presence. He was mad with the need to let her know she was not forgotten or abandoned. But he could read in her face the fear and despair that was slowly, steadily overwhelming her.

As he watched, she began to disappear. It felt as if she were right next to him when it happened. He wanted to scream in warning or s.n.a.t.c.h her away to safety, but he couldn't move or speak.

Suddenly he couldn't even breathe.

He jerked awake, knowing instantly that something was wrong, his dreams banished in an instant. He stood, stared into the darkness around him, and listened. Nothing. He glanced down. Andelin and Russa were asleep nearby. Parke and Teer were on guard farther up the pa.s.s, close to where it opened out onto the rugged slopes of the outside world. The others were sleeping on the valley side of the defensive barriers on which they had all been working for the better part of a week. Overhead, the sky was filled with stars, but he could discern a faint wash of silver light to the east. Dawn was breaking.

Everything seemed all right.

But something felt wrong anyway.

He walked the length of the pa.s.s to its far end and spoke with Parke and Teer. There was nothing out of sorts happening there. The world beyond the pa.s.s was dark and silent. He shook his head in confusion and moved back down the split to where Andelin and Russa were still sleeping, stopping at the last minute to pick up his bow and arrows, and from there walked on to the defensive barriers. Ladders were propped against the stone and timber walls at a narrows where the pa.s.s sloped downward in his direction and leveled out behind where the other men slept. The choice of terrain gave the defenders an advantage in the event of an a.s.sault, putting them above their attackers who must come at them over uneven ground. Most of the work was already done. By the end of tomorrow, the wall would be finished and manned by a permanent company of Trackers and others. Trow Ravenlock had already designated those he wished to serve in that capacity. He had done the best he could in making his choices, but the men of Glensk Wood were poorly trained for service as soldiers and fighters.

Shouldering his bow and arrows, Panterra climbed one of the ladders to the top of the wall and stepped over onto the narrow walkway that ran its length. He looked down on the sleeping men. Nothing out of place here, either. He stood where he was, searching for even a brief twinge of the feeling that had brought him awake, trying to make sense of it. If Prue were there, she would know. He did not. His instincts weren't as sure as hers.

But that didn't mean he should ignore them.

He looked for the guard who should have been on post below him and found him standing off to one side in the rocks near the tree line, nearly invisible in the dark, a silent shadowy presence perhaps fifty yards downslope from the sleeping men.

A second later the guard disappeared.

Panterra blinked. It happened so fast that he thought he must be mistaken and kept trying to find him. Then he caught a glimpse of the man's legs kicking wildly as he was dragged back into the deeper shadows.

An instant later shadowy forms emerged from the rocks all across the slopes leading up to the entrance to the pa.s.s and crept toward the sleeping men. Some walked upright on two legs and some slouched forward on four.

Trolls and Skaith Hounds.

The Drouj.

He had no idea how they had gotten behind them, but he knew at once who they were. "We're attacked!" he shouted in warning, banging a metal bar on a wooden barrel. "Wake up!"

The response was instantaneous from both sides. The Glensk Wood men rolled out of their blankets, some still sleep-fogged and confused, some quick to s.n.a.t.c.h up their weapons and defend themselves. But the Trolls and Skaith Hounds were quicker and more focused, attacking up the slope as soon as the warning was given, closing the distance between themselves and their victims in mere seconds. Half the defenders died in the first two minutes, torn apart by the hounds or run through by the Drouj. Panterra tried to slow the attackers, firing arrow after arrow into their midst, killing a couple and wounding as many more. But it wasn't nearly enough. There were too many, and it was still too dark to be accurate with a bow.

Slowly, the survivors fell back toward the defensive bulwarks, searching for a way to escape.

"Up here!" Pan called down to them, drawing their attention. "Climb the ladders!"

A few made it up, quicker than the rest. Most fell in the attempt and were lost. There were perhaps two dozen Trolls and three Skaith Hounds. Panterra concentrated on the latter, trying to bring at least one of them down. But the beasts were agile and quick, and their thick fur was resistant to his arrows.

Russa and Andelin had joined him by now, and were using their own bows. As many as six of their companions had gained the momentary safety of the walls while a handful more still fought to reach them from below. But the Trolls were relentless in their attack, overpowering all resistance. A pair of them reached one of the ladders, forcing the defenders to kick it away. The Skaith Hounds leapt for the ramparts in furious bounds, trying to gain purchase. The men on the walls fell back quickly in an effort to avoid those jaws.

Two more defenders made it up the last of the ladders, and then Russa pushed it away. The Trolls cl.u.s.tered below, shielding themselves from the barrage of arrows raining down on them, searching for another way up. A handful started to build a ramp out of supply boxes and pieces of lumber while the rest hauled out bows of their own and began shooting arrows into the defenders. The men on the walls were exposed and vulnerable. Three of them were killed outright before the rest scrambled over the walls and down the ladders on the other side, abandoning the defenses.

Panterra searched quickly among the survivors for Trow Ravenlock and couldn't find him. Dead, he a.s.sumed. Killed in the initial attack.