Melentha.
She was, Ravagin realized, his best—possibly his only—chance. “Sa-trahist rassh!” he shouted against the green flashes buzzing like angry insects around him. “Sa-trahist rassh, sa-trahist rassh, sa-trahist rassh!”
And between him and Melentha four firebrats burst into flame.
Nordis shouted something, but his expletive was swallowed by another shriek from Melentha. Shifting to a one-hand grip on the reins, Ravagin waved the other hand toward Melentha in a placement gesture. “Haklismeen-taetre!” he called. “Sudamentra markreforex pinchaila!”
Beyond the flames, he caught just a hint of red as the invoked djinn responded to the fractional-possession spell and vanished into Melentha’s horse. The animal reared in violent reaction to the spirit’s sudden presence, and abruptly Melentha’s scream took on a startled note. “Sa-khe-khe fawkh!” Ravagin called, making the same placement gesture—
And the horse twisted and fought for footing as the nixie’s fountain of water erupted beneath it.
Almost enough. The swarm of parasite spirits was deserting Ravagin now, converging on Melentha to help fight off the zoo he’d thrown at her before their relatively fragile human link with the physical world could be hurt. For the moment, at least, the unstoppable demon within her had his hands full elsewhere … and it was time for Ravagin to make a break for it. “Sa-doora-na, sa-doora-na, sa-doora-na, sa-doora-na, sa-doora-na,” he called.
And with his five invoked doppelgangers each heading in a different direction, he twisted the horse’s reins around and kicked the animal into full gallop back toward the west.
He was free. At least for the moment.
The tree above Danae swayed slightly under its burden, sending a handful of leaves fluttering down around her. Her horse snorted gently, and she patted its neck in reassurance. “Anything happening?” she called softly up into the tree.
“The flames seem to be dying,” Hart’s voice replied. “Looks like the fog’s starting to dissipate, too.”
Danae sighed and returned to her attempts to massage away her latest leg cramp. “It’s steam, not fog,” she said. “That’s Ravagin, all right—he pulled that same fire-and-water stunt our first night here.”
“Did it work then?” Hart asked, dropping lightly back to the ground beside her.
“Well enough. You think he got away?”
Hart’s silhouette shrugged. “No way to tell. He didn’t escape without a fight, though—I saw a lot of what looked like demon parasite spirits swarming around the area.”
Danae clenched her teeth hard enough to hurt. “So what do we do? Try and find him?”
Hart was silent for a moment. “Whatever precipitated that duel out there, it should be obvious to him that something’s gone wrong with Melentha’s hold on you,” he said at last. “If the sprite you said you sent was actually able to find him, he knows you’ve escaped; otherwise, all he knows is that the demons watching you sent a message to Melentha that probably threw her into a panic. Either way he’ll be on his way back to the way house to check.”
“But if he knows I’m free—”
“You might have been recaptured,” Hart pointed out. “Regardless, he’ll try to come by and check for sure.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the kind of person he is,” Hart said simply.
Danae felt her lip twitch. “Yeah.”
Stepping to the edge of the copse that concealed them, Hart peered out. “Yes … if he heads back in anything approaching a straight line, we should be able to spot him from here,” he told Danae. “I think it’s worth waiting a few minutes to see if he makes it.”
Danae nodded, grimacing, as her earlier thoughts returned to shame her. She’d been all set to just go ahead and desert Ravagin—and here was Hart with his ice-filled circulatory system willing to take risks to keep the other from riding back to his death.
“If he does,” Hart continued into Danae’s thoughts, “we’ll have a much better chance of making it back to the Tunnel. He knows the territory, possibly even better than Melentha does.”
Danae snorted softly to herself. So much for Hart’s newfound compassion … but the lesson to her was still applicable. “You seem to have picked up a lot of the territory yourself,” she said. “That spell you mentioned, for instance, the one you used to bind the demon closer to his posts. I’ve never even heard of that one.”
“I can’t really claim any credit for it,” Hart shrugged. “After I left Nordis, I went back to Gartanis to find out just what had happened. When he found out I was here to watch after you, he gave me some specialized spells he thought might help me get you out. Having seen the place, I’m glad I didn’t have to use them.”
Danae shook her head in wonder. “I’d have thought that after being attacked by demons himself he’d have wanted to wash his hands of me.”
“Just the opposite, actually. He was mad as a fury over what Melentha’s demons did to his house and lar.” Abruptly, Hart stopped, cocking his head sideways. “Hoofbeats,” he murmured.
Danae licked her lips and nodded silently, feeling painfully naked out here without any protection at all. A quick lar invocation, perhaps … but if it was Melentha out there, calling up a spirit would be about as clever as setting the whole copse on fire. “How are we going to attract his attention?” she whispered.
“We don’t; I do. You’ll stay here while I ride out and check.”
Silently, Danae slid off the horse, thinking furiously. There had to be a way … “Wait a second,” she said suddenly as Hart reached up to pull himself up. “If it’s Ravagin he’ll be alone … plazni-hy-ix!”
“What—? Oh; a jinx spell.”
“Right.” Holding her breath, Danae watched as the almost invisible cloud faded off toward the distant hoof-beats in response to her placement gesture. If it was Ravagin out there, he would hopefully notice the spell and come to the proper conclusion. If it was Melentha and her demonic entourage, the spell should at least buy her and Hart some time to get away.
Abruptly, the hoofbeats faltered and came to a halt.
Unconsciously, Danae’s hands curled into fists, aware of the gamble she was taking. A jinx wasn’t nearly as conspicuous as a lar, but even so Melentha’s demons would probably be able to trace it back to the point of invocation in nothing flat …
The hoofbeats began again. Coming closer.
Silently, Hart squeezed Danae’s arm and moved a short distance to the side. Danae gritted her teeth as the shadow of a mounted rider loomed against the dimly lit landscape—
“Danae? Hart? Anyone there?”
Danae exhaled in relief, the tension draining out of her body along with the air. “We’re here, Ravagin, in the trees,” she called out softly.
“You both all right?” he called. The pace of the hoofbeats picked up, but remained somehow oddly cautious.
“Yes,” she told him. “How’d you get away from Melentha?”
“With great difficulty, and only temporarily unless we get the hell out of the area.”
“Well, then, let’s go,” she said, stepping to their horse and climbing up. “Hart? Come on.”
The shadow that was Hart didn’t move. “It might be a good idea first,” he said calmly, “for our friend here to prove he’s really Ravagin and not some illusion created to smoke us out.”
Danae’s mouth suddenly went dry as the memory of Coven and the doppelgangers Ravagin had himself used came flooding back. “But … how do we—?”
“Danae, on Shamsheer you tried to rescue a woman who was being picked on by three of her relatives,” Ravagin interrupted her. “I kept them off you with a scorpion glove and we got arrested for our trouble. Your turn.”
“Oh—I see. All right. I had a bad case of acrophobia on our first sky-plane ride. I saw a castle-lord’s bubble in the distance. And I was furious that you insisted on a low buzz over Castle Numanteal.”
“You were that mad? I didn’t realize that. Hart? G
o ahead.”
“I tried to bribe my way onto the trip with you the night before you left,” Hart said. “You turned me down and had me taken away from the Crosspoint Building. The guard on duty that night was named Grey.”
For a moment there was silence. “Well?” Danae asked at last. “Is that it? Can we get out of here now?”
“Sure,” Ravagin said wearily, sliding off his horse. “Just as soon as we figure out where exactly we’re going to go. And how we’re going to get there alive.”
Chapter 27
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, where are we going?” Danae asked. “We’re going to the Tunnel and getting the hell out of here.”
Ravagin shook his head, peering into the darkness at her. The visibility was lousy; but even so, it was clear she was suffering badly from fatigue. Fatigue, or something worse. “The Tunnel’s out of the question, at least for the moment,” he said. “There’ll be spirits on guard in the Cairn Mounds long before we could make it there.”
“But if we hurry, Melentha at least won’t be there in person to oppose us,” Hart pointed out from the shadows to Ravagin’s left. “I’ve been told it’s difficult to manipulate spirits long-range.”
“Agreed,” Ravagin nodded. “Especially since they don’t react well to situations outside the scope of their specific orders. And of course Melentha won’t be able to have a demon sitting out there indefinitely waiting for us to show—there’s a limit to how long a non-binding invocation lasts. But there are other things she can do.”
“Such as?” Hart asked.
“Such as keep a dozen demons or so circulating between her and the Tunnel. She can invoke one, send it there with orders to attack us if we’re there, and by the time it goes into spontaneous release she’ll have the next one on the way.”
“So we just time our escape to come between the waves—” Danae began.
“She may also have human allies she can call on for help—spirit-possessed or otherwise,” Ravagin cut her off “And some of them may live close enough to the Tunnel to get there first no matter how fast we ride.”
“Given all of this,” Hart said, “it still seems to me that the longer we delay, the more time she’ll have to set up a water-tight barrier around the Tunnel. And the better the chances one of the spirits out searching for us will get lucky.”
“Will they be able to identify us, though?” Danae asked. “I didn’t think spirits saw us as faces.”
“You’d have to ask Melentha exactly how it is spirits see us,” Ravagin said grimly. “Unfortunately, Hart’s got a point. Especially since they already have our names to work with.”
“Our—oh.” Danae inhaled sharply. “Damn. That does make a difference, doesn’t it?”
“A big one,” Ravagin nodded. “It’s not quite as simple as when you send a sprite off with a message for a particular person, but even with the more advanced spirits there’s some kind of coupling between name and image.”
“So you’re basically offering us no choices at all,” Hart said quietly. “If we race to the Tunnel we’ll be caught, and if we attempt to hide out somewhere we’ll be caught. Unless you have some Courier’s trick up your sleeve …?”
“Courier training doesn’t cover this type of situation,” Ravagin shook his head. “But I may have an idea.” He looked at Danae. “Do you still remember how to do that demogorgon invocation?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Hart stiffen. “I had a full mnemonic treatment, you know,” Danae told him. “Of course I remember it.”
“Do you think you could stand to try it again?”
There was the barest hesitation before she answered. “If it’ll help get us out of here, I’ll try anything.”
“There aren’t any guarantees, I’m afraid,” he warned. “For that matter, I’m not even sure if the spell I want really exists. But if it does, a demogorgon will probably know it.”
“And what would this possibly nonexistent spell do?” Hart asked.
Ravagin pursed his lips. “Make us invisible to spirits.”
For a moment there was silence as the other two seemed to digest that. “Uh-huh,” Hart said at last. “Interesting approach. If spirits can’t see us, the majority of Melentha’s spy network becomes effectively useless.”
“Not only the spy network, but the bulk of her defenses, too,” Ravagin pointed out. “One trick she’ll probably use to get around the spontaneous release problem is to bind some of her spirits into wild animals and set them to prowling around the Tunnel. But since that kind of possession usually plays havoc with the animal’s normal instincts and sensory apparatus, if the spirit itself can’t detect us chances are good we’ll be able to walk past even a cintah without being bothered.”
“Sounds like a worthwhile gamble,” Hart said with a nod. “Yes, we’ll try it. Ms. mal ce Taeger, you’ll need to tell me how to do this demogorgon spell—”
“Hold it!” Ravagin cut in. “What makes you think you’re going to do the invocation?”
“I second the question,” Danae growled.
Hart exhaled loudly. “I may not be as experienced as you are, Ravagin, with Karyx and its wonders, but I do know that the inherent dangers of an invocation increase as you go up the hierarchy. Invoking a demogorgon is about as dangerous as you can get, and I doubt that either of us wants Ms. mal ce Taeger to take that sort of risk.”
Ravagin opened his mouth, but Danae beat him to the punch. “Hart, it’s time to get a couple of things straight,” she bit out. “First of all, from a purely practical standpoint, you can’t do the invocation for the simple reason that I’m not going to give it to you.”
“Ms. mal ce Taeger—”
“Danae! It’s just Danae here, Hart—no one has that many names on Karyx. Second of all, you’re not in charge of me here. Ravagin is, and if anyone had the right to take this invocation away from me it would be him—and I’m not going to give him the spell, either. And finally, if you’d turn down your loyalty to Daddy Dear by a few degrees, you’d realize I’m the one who’s got the best chance of coming out of this safely, anyway. I’ve invoked the demogorgon before and he didn’t hurt me then. So. Ravagin, where should we try this?”
“Not here,” Ravagin said, stifling the automatic urge to argue with her. One successful pass at a demogorgon was no guarantee that a second wouldn’t end in disaster … but it was abundantly clear that her mind was made up, and arguing would only waste precious time. “We’re too close to Melentha and her house. I suggest we head southwest, cross the Besak-Findral road and the plains south of it and hide out in the marshes by the Davrahil River. That’s nearly twenty kilometers in the wrong direction, and I doubt they’ll get around to searching anywhere that far away for at least a few hours. Hart?”
“Makes sense,” the other said promptly. “Let’s get moving.”
Ravagin had fully expected to run into at least one of Melentha’s searching spirits, if not the demon-woman herself … but as the minutes turned to half an hour and they’d still encountered no trouble, he began to both breathe easier and wonder if his flailing attack had indeed done Melentha some real damage. Certainly she would have thought to scour the immediate area as well as to send everything else available in a mad dash for the Cairn Mounds and the Tunnel.
Unless long association with her demon had dulled her mind that much. It was possible; most scholars had long since come to the conclusion that, for all their power, Karyx’s spirit world was severely lacking in anything resembling human imagination.
But whatever the reason, they reached and crossed the Besak-Findral road without trouble and headed cross-country toward the Davrahil River. Besak’s surrounding landscape, never more than rolling to begin with, began to flatten out even more as the occasional patches of forest became rarer. Once he caught Hart looking around with an air of disapproval, and assured him that well before they reached the Davrahil they would find more than adequate cover.
An hour later, they did.
Ravagin
had been to these marshes only once before, nearly seven years earlier, and the place had not noticeably improved since then. In the daylight, he knew, the predominant characteristics would be the incredibly colored plant life growing around and on the black-trunked trees, and the multitude of animal, bird, and insect sounds. Now, in the dead of night, the first thing Ravagin noticed was the rancid smell.
There weren’t any real paths into the marshes, but for a couple of kilometers at least Ravagin knew the land would be reasonably passable. Dismounting, he led the way, checking with his feet for holes and soft spots that might endanger their horses and with his hands for the sort of dangerous thorn limbs that always seemed to find a traveler at the wrong moment. More than once he regretted having had to leave the way house without any of his home-made torches, but there was nothing for it now. Invoking a dazzler was, of course, completely out of the question.
They’d struggled their way about half a kilometer inside the marshes when he called it quits. A small tree-covered knoll provided them with at least a little grazing space for their horses and enough dry ground for Danae’s needs.
Fifteen minutes later, with the aroma of burning incense mixing oddly with the swampy odors, Danae began her invocation.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Hart asked softly.
Ravagin shifted his attention from Danae’s motionless cross-legged form to the vaguely brightening sky overhead. She’d been sitting there in communion with the demogorgon for at least half an hour now. “No idea,” he told Hart. “I came in on the middle the last time she did this, and I still had to wait for twenty minutes or so before she came out of it.”
Hart hissed between his teeth. “I should have insisted she let me do this.”
Ravagin eyed the other. “You been her bodyguard long?” he asked.
The other threw him a sharp look, shifted his eyes back to Danae. “Since she was seven. Fifteen years.”
“Almost the same time I’ve been ferrying people in and out of the Hidden Worlds,” Ravagin commented. “It’s easy to get stuck in a frame of mind, isn’t it.”