“But you think this was some sort of game that got us captured?”
“Just the way they acted when they saw us. Just how they moved and talked. They laughed a bit, pointed at us, made fun of the beasts that had us pinned. They seemed to be having fun.” She gestured suddenly. “Except for the two over there. Those two, they don’t seem happy at all. I think from the way the others treat them they might be the leaders. They’ve been arguing ever since they found us. I don’t know why.”
Pan looked at the two figures standing nose-to-nose some distance off, the first a little taller than the second, the second a little more aggressive. They were shouting now, the second gesturing toward their captives, the first giving him a look and a shrug. The taller was very black and very lean, not so burly and massive as the shorter or the Lizards with them. In the darkness, the fire crackled as someone fed it wood while the others stood idly by, watching the argument.
“If I could loosen these knots …” Pan trailed off and began working his wrists about experimentally, but the knots held.
“If you could loosen those knots and somehow make it to your feet, those beasts would be on top of you in about five seconds,” Prue pointed out. “I don’t think you want that.”
He glanced over at the wolfish creatures. They were sitting on their haunches, gleaming eyes fixed and eager. As if anticipating that he might make the effort to flee and give them some sport. Pan watched them for a minute, and then gave up trying to free himself. Prue was right; there wasn’t any point to it.
Then all at once the argument between the two Lizards ended, and the shorter of the two stomped over to where they were tied up and glowered down at them. There was a darkness in his gaze that left Pan feeling cold. He seemed very young, his skin still smooth in places and his features almost boyish. But there was nothing about him to suggest that he was in any way friendly or inclined to be helpful. Animosity radiated off him in bright waves. If Pan had wondered for a moment whether the Lizards might reconsider and let them go, he abandoned all such thoughts now.
All at once the Lizard began shouting at them, so furious that he was spitting. His words were indecipherable, although it seemed that he was asking them questions, demanding that they answer. Both pulled back in the face of his wrath, unable to respond in any other way. Furious, he kicked Pan in the ribs, glared at them one last time, and turned back to the other Lizard, shouting now at him.
The taller one walked over to join him, taking his time. The build of his body and the definition of his facial features suggested he was older, more mature, and he did not seem angry like the other. He was calm as he studied them, standing with his still-furious companion, his dark eyes taking in everything about them.
Then he spoke, a few words only in their own language, and the other, after a moment’s hesitation, walked away. They saw him move over to the gimlet-eyed beasts and reach down to ruffle their ears. The beasts growled appreciatively.
The newcomer knelt next to them, bending close. “Can you understand me?” he asked, speaking their tongue in something that approached a mix of a growl and a cough.
Pan and Prue exchanged a surprised look. “How do you know our language when we don’t know yours?” Pan asked quickly. “We have Lizards where we live, but they don’t speak like you.”
“Keep your voices down!” the other snapped, glancing back over his shoulder. He paused. “We’re not Lizards. We don’t call ourselves that anymore, or allow others to call us that. We call ourselves Trolls, as in Faerie time. Call us that. Remember. Trolls!” He sounded angry.
“Trolls,” Pan repeated quickly. “Sorry. But how did you learn to speak like we do? How did you learn? Are there Men living out here?”
“Men, others. But I speak your tongue because my family kept the old language. Others mostly didn’t; they only speak Troll. But there were always two languages in our history, old and new. I can talk to you, but Grosha and the others, no.” He paused. “Who are you? What are your names?”
They gave them, speaking them in turn. “Arik Sarn,” said the other, the name all rolling, guttural sounds run together.
“Arik Sarn,” Pan repeated carefully.
“Where do you come from?” the Troll pressed. “No! No pointing! Hands down! Just answer.”
Pan hesitated. “From inside the mountains behind us.”
“Your people? A community?”
Pan nodded.
“Are there others?”
“Yes.”
“Trolls, you said. Elves, too? Other Races?”
Pan nodded again, exchanging a fresh glance with Prue. “Why do you want to know?” the girl asked impulsively.
Arik Sarn ignored the question. “How long are you in the valley?” he asked instead.
“A long time,” Pan answered. “Hundreds of years. We were brought there after the Great Wars and before the last destruction.”
The Troll caught his breath sharply. “Brought there? You were led by someone?”
“Yes.”
The Troll leaned very close, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “A boy? He was called Hawk? It was Hawk who led you?”
Panterra stared in disbelief. “How do you know about the Hawk?”
Sarn shook his head. “Later. Other things first. I am allowed to speak to you because I know your language, but Grosha will not allow it for long. Grosha Siq is my cousin. He is the son of the tribe Maturen, Taureq Siq. The tribe are Drouj, but they are not my tribe. A game of chance captured you. Grosha plays this game when he hunts. Now you belong to him. Mostly, after his Skaith Hounds have trapped prey, he gives the prey to his hounds to let them do with it whatever they want. But Men are scarce in this part, not found much. I persuaded him you must go to his father to be questioned. His father has first claim on you.”
“Skaith Hounds,” Prue repeated softly, shivering.
“Hunting beasts. Very dangerous. You would be dead, but the game requires you be alive for Grosha to view.” He glanced over his shoulder anew. “We must finish this talk. No time left. I am not so much freer than you, understand? I am part of an exchange between Maturens to assure peace between their tribes. Taureq’s eldest is with my father; I stay with Taureq. Five years I have to stay. I can do some things, but not much. I mentor Grosha, so I go along on this hunt. Good thing for you. I kept you alive, but maybe not for long.” He paused, his black eyes fixed on them. “The truth? I don’t know why I did so. Not for sure. A hunch, maybe. A foolish risk, too. But I did.”
Grosha Siq had finished playing with his pets and was coming back over to them. Arik Sarn stood up. “We’ll talk later.”
NEARLY A QUARTER OF A MILE AWAY, but still within sight of the light from the campfire that Panterra and Prue had gone off to investigate, Phryne Amarantyne crouched in the shadows with Tasha Orullian, waiting for Tenerife. When Panterra and Prue had failed to return in a reasonable time and there were clear signs of activity around the fire—faint sounds of life and shadowy movements—Tenerife had decided to have a look. He was the most skilled of the three, the best suited for undertaking such a task, and there had been no argument that he should be the one to go. It might be that Pan and Prue were safe and that the sounds and movement signified nothing. Nevertheless, Tenerife had been quick to point out, they could not afford to take anything for granted.
But now Phryne was worried that perhaps something bad had happened to him, as well. She was furious with herself for urging Pan and Prue to go in the first place and frightened that her insistence might have brought harm to her new friends. Sometimes she didn’t understand herself. Sometimes she acted in ways that were more self-indulgent than rational, and this appeared to be one of those times. She used her position as the daughter of the King; she used her beauty and her charm. She used everything she could find to use, and she did so almost offhandedly. She hadn’t needed to know who’d built that fire or who might be tending it now. She could have left it alone, the answers she was eager to gather about the world
outside the valley set aside for another day. But she had not wanted to wait, had not wanted to miss the chance of finding out something important and even vital about this world none of them had ever seen—that no one from the valley had seen. She wanted to be a part of that, to be at the forefront of this new discovery.
And so she had insisted, argued, and cajoled all four of her companions until Panterra and Prue had agreed to set out.
Stupid and willful—that was what she was.
“Do you see anything?” she whispered to Tasha.
He shook his head but said nothing in reply, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond their place of concealment.
All this was her fault, her responsibility. She had demanded to be taken along as the price for getting permission from her father for her cousins and their Glensk Wood visitors to go. She had pushed them through the pass and then beyond. She had flirted with Panterra to win him over—not simply for that but because she was attracted to him as well, an attraction that was forbidden for an Elf and particularly for an Elven Princess, as she well knew and simply ignored—enjoying the way he was flustered and confused by her attentions. She had acted like a girl, not like the young woman she professed to be. It was a clear indicator of how much growing up she still had to do, she thought bitterly.
She wondered what her father would think of her if he discovered what she had done, but she didn’t have to wonder about it long to know the answer.
“He’s coming,” Tasha whispered suddenly.
A second later his brother appeared out of the darkness, creeping through the rocks and scrub in quick, furtive movements until he was safely back in the shadows crouched next to them.
“Panterra and little sister have been taken by Lizards. How this happened, I can’t tell. Or even what the reason for it was. But they are trussed and bound, and there are too many guards for us to attempt a rescue.”
Phryne bit her lip, aware of his eyes on her, feeling his judgment settle on her like a weight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Tasha glanced over. “This isn’t your fault. We all agreed to let them go. None of us thought there was that much danger to it. Pan and little sister are Trackers, and she has the sight. That should have been enough to protect them. I don’t understand it. Lizards aren’t known for their ability to sneak up on people. They shouldn’t have been able to get that close without giving themselves away.”
“Whatever the case,” Tenerife continued, “we have a bigger problem still. The Lizards are putting our friends in a cart and taking them away. They’ll be moving out shortly for other parts.”
Phryne felt her heart sink. Any chance at rescuing Panterra and Prue would disappear if they lost sight of them. There was no telling where the Lizards might take them or what they might do to them once they arrived at their destination. If anything was to be done, it had to be done now.
“I think we have to go for help,” Tenerife said quietly, looking once more at her. “I don’t think we can do this alone.”
She shook her head quickly, adamantly. “No. I’m not going back without them.” She met his gaze and held it. “I won’t leave them.”
“Your father would skin us alive if we let you do anything else, cousin. You know that.”
“He’s right,” his brother agreed, shifting his bulk so that he, too, was facing her. “We can’t afford to risk anything happening to you. We have to return and tell your father about this and come back with a larger, better-equipped rescue party.”
“No,” she repeated. “I won’t do it.”
Tasha gave her a rueful grin. “The choice may not be yours to make. We are the ones held responsible for your safety.”
“I am the only one responsible for me!” she snapped. She realized how arrogant that sounded and immediately held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Listen to me, please. If I agree to go back now, without Panterra and Prue, and my father learns what has happened, it will be years before I am allowed to do anything of this sort again. It will simply reconfirm what he already suspects—that I am a child, a girl, and I must be coddled and watched over until I am someone’s wife.”
“Better that than ending up dead or a prisoner of those Lizards,” Tenerife pointed out. “You didn’t see them. I did. They aren’t like the Lizards we know. These creatures are huge and dangerous beyond anything I’ve ever known. They wear armor and carry weapons of war. This isn’t a group of travelers on a journey; this is a war party, and it is too much for three Elves to try to overcome.”
“All right, I agree,” she said quickly, not wanting to cede him any of the territory she had already made up her mind to claim. “But we could follow them, track them to wherever they are taking Panterra and Prue. We could look for a chance to rescue them. Then, if no opportunity shows itself, if nothing happens to allow us to free them, we can come back into the valley and tell my father.”
“We lose time that way, cousin.”
“We lose opportunity the other way, cousin.”
“Following your advice the last time didn’t work out so well. Perhaps this time you should defer to us.”
“Thank you for pointing that out. I had forgotten completely. Now that I am reminded, I should probably crawl back into my hole and defer to your superior good judgment for the rest of my life!”
They glared at each other. Tasha, listening silently until now, gave a heavy sigh. “Enough. Both arguments have merit. No good purpose is served if we fight among ourselves. We must weigh the choices and decide. Time slips away.”
“You decide, then,” his brother ordered. “The vote is split between Phryne and me. She says we stay, and I say we go back. You choose, and we will abide by your choice.”
He obviously felt that his brother would side with him. Phryne almost objected to the proposal, but decided to hold her tongue. Better to wait and hear what Tasha had to say before attacking him. She had done enough of that already, and she had a sense that any more of the same would only be counterproductive. Besides, he was going to have his say in any case. She desperately wanted to stay, to make right the things she had helped make wrong, to not return as the instigator of what could only be termed a disaster. But she had to accept that she could not make this happen by herself, that she needed the acquiescence and support of her cousins.
“What do you say, Tasha?” she asked him, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “What should we do?”
Tasha seemed to consider. “There is one aspect of all this that neither of you has mentioned, one that might be more important than any of the others we have discussed. If we do the smart thing, the reasonable thing, and we return to Arborlon and ask your father to let us return and search for Panterra and little sister, will he allow it? Not just you, cousin, but any of us. Or any Elves at all, for that matter.”
He paused. “Because the people we are asking him to rescue, the people his Hunters must search out and do battle for, are humans. No, don’t say anything yet, Phryne. I know your father is a reasonable and good man. But he differs not so much from other Elves in his dislike and mistrust of humans. He will weigh that against any obligation he feels toward you or us in making his decision. I cannot say for certain which way he will go, even knowing him as I do. That troubles me. If he refused to help our young friends, Tenerife and I would have to come back on our own, likely in direct disobedience of the King, and do what little we could to make things right.”
He looked from his brother to Phryne. “What do you think?”
Phryne knew what she thought. She thought her father was a better man than that. She thought he would stand up for those his daughter had taken responsibility for. But she also knew Tasha was not wrong in his assessment. She shook her head, an indication of her own uncertainty.
Tenerife shrugged. “You make it all sound so reasonable, brother. As you always seem to. I find nothing to disagree with, so I withdraw my vote against abandoning our friends and suggest we go after
them.”
He walked over and put an arm around Phryne’s shoulders. “We should leave now before they get any farther ahead, don’t you think?”
She gave him a broad smile in response and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
SEVENTEEN
THE TROLLS TRAVELED WEST AND NORTH FOR MOST of the remainder of the night, armored giants flanking the wagon that bore the prisoners, the sounds of creaking wheels and leather traces blending with the tromp of booted feet and guttural mutterings through a darkness barely broken by the pale light of moon and stars. Panterra and Prue were rolled and bounced about in the wooden bed by the jerky, swaying motion of the wagon, trying as best they could in their bound condition to brace themselves in its corners. Behind them, the mountains that hid their valley home slowly receded into darkness, swallowed by time and distance.
Prue eventually fell asleep, by then folded over and lying prone, her head in Pan’s lap where he kept her as comfortable as he could manage. For himself, there could be no sleep. Not while his head ached and his anger burned. He spent his time trying to loosen his bonds, working them this way and that, twisting his wrists, using sweat and blood drawn from deep cuts incurred through efforts to lubricate the leather—all to no avail. The Trolls kept checking on him in any case, glancing in from where they walked alongside, keeping close enough that even if he were to break free there would be no chance of a successful flight.
Not that he would ever leave Prue. It was all just an exercise, just a way of passing the time and giving vent to his rage and frustration, the whole of it born of a deadening sense of futility.
He looked more than once for Arik Sarn, thinking to engage him in further conversation, wanting to learn more about what was happening to them. But there was no sign of the enigmatic Troll, no indication when or even if he would reappear, and Pan soon decided that help from that quarter was unlikely. He had thought from the other’s knowledge of the Hawk and his journey to the valley, there might be some sort of kinship shared. In part, that feeling was fostered by the other’s unexpected ability to speak their language and by his familiarity with their history. But in retrospect, Pan wondered if he were reading things into the encounter that weren’t really there. Desperation sometimes fueled false hope. That could be so here.