“That’s the spirit,” Ravagin nodded, getting stiffly to his feet and walking stooped over toward the cave’s mouth where their horse was tethered. “Half pessimism, half fatalism. Just remember, if she’s still thinking at all straight, she’s going to recall that killing us could be hazardous to her masters’ plans. Or at least killing you could be.”
“That’s great comfort,” Danae muttered, brushing the crumbs off her hands and standing up into a cautious crouch. “Game on, let’s get going.”
There was still a hint of afterglow in the western sky, which to Danae’s affected eyes left the world almost as brightly lit as if it were noon. Seated in front of Ravagin on the horse, she again took up her previous night’s role as lookout, watching and listening for anything that might mean trouble. In the Cairn Waste, she’d discovered yesterday, that largely boiled down to scanning the horizon for other riders or large animals. Cover here was virtually nonexistent, save for occasional large rock formations and—increasingly—a gradually rolling landscape as they headed southeast into the region of the Cairn Mounds. In those cases, where her eyes couldn’t serve, her hearing had to; but the Cairn Waste had earned its name honestly, and they neither saw nor heard anyone as they made their way along.
It wasn’t until they began picking their path around and between full-fledged mounds, barely half an hour after starting out, that Danae realized just how close to the Tunnel their cave had been. “Nothing like spending the day on the enemy’s doorstep,” she muttered as Ravagin called a halt and found a scraggly bush to loosely tether their horse to.
“Can you think of a better place to hide than right under their noses?” he whispered back. “Besides, who’d be crazy enough to spend a whole day in the Cairn Waste?”
“That’s great logi—yeep!”
“What?” he hissed, swinging around with sword already half out of its sheath.
“Over there,” she told him, nodding nervously toward the spot of green haze moving slowly across the mounds a hundred meters ahead.
Ravagin took a deep breath, easing the sword back down. “Nice to know we’re in the right place. Can you see any detail, or is it just a green blob?”
“Uh … nothing. Though it is kind of far away.”
He grunted. “Chances are good it’s a parasite spirit, then, not a regular demon. Interesting, I’d have thought Melentha could have pulled enough firepower to have nothing but the highest-level demons and peris watching the place.”
“Maybe with our invisibility she’s given up on unbound spirits,” Danae suggested.
“Or else it means Hart’s doing a slapjack job of leading the goose chase,” Ravagin grunted.
Danae bit at her lip. “Whatever Hart does, he does well,” she said quietly. “That’s all part of his job, as he’s so fond of saying.”
They stood there quietly for another minute, watching as the parasite spirit ahead continued on to eventually vanish between two mounds to their left. Then Ravagin took her hand and together they started forward.
It was harder than Danae had anticipated. Her sole previous experience with the Mounds had been during their walk from the Tunnel to the Besak-Torralane Village road at the beginning of the Karyx leg of their trip, and it rapidly became apparent that that had not been a representative section of the landscape. The mounds to the north of the Tunnel were at the same time more angularly rocky and more gravelly, making footing treacherous and the consequences of missteps painful. Danae’s enhanced vision gave her surprisingly little advantage, not much more than Ravagin’s experience and greater knowledge of the area gave him.
But there was nothing else to do but continue on. And so they did; walking, and slipping, and bumping knees and shins, and hissing curses they didn’t dare express aloud, because there was no way to know when they would be within hearing of the guards at the Tunnel. It was, all in all, a miserable two hours.
Eventually, they made it to the mound Ravagin had chosen to make their first direct reconnoiter from. Carefully, thankful the long trek was over, Danae crawled on her belly to the top and eased her head up for a look.
“Well?” Ravagin whispered in her ear. “What do you see?”
She took a deep breath. “About a dozen men,” she whispered back. “Sitting or standing just in front of the Tunnel entrance. All armed, looks like. And …” She squinted. “I think I can see the haze of a lar around them.”
“I’m sure you do,” Ravagin grunted. “Probably backed up right against the entrance so that no one can get in.”
She nodded, tears blurring her vision as all the tension and aggravation of the hike turned into frustration. Unreasonably, she knew, she’d still somehow clung to the hope that Melentha would have been foolish enough to entrust the Tunnel’s defense to her spirit allies. But now, outnumbered six to one by armed men against whom their hard-won spirit invisibility was useless, the hopelessness of the situation abruptly threatened to overwhelm her …
“Hey! You okay?”
She licked her lips, sniffed once. “Of course I am. How could things possibly be better for us?”
Shuffling a few centimeters closer to her, Ravagin reached over to put an arm across her shoulders. “Come on, Danae—you can’t let it get to you,” he whispered urgently. “We’ve still got a chance, but not if you let fatigue and poor odds and all this damn spirit influence break you down. Come on—if your father could see you now—”
“Leave Daddy Dear out of this!” she hissed, fury erupting into the black depression threatening to bury her. “If you can’t remember I’m more than just an extension of my father’s money and personality and influence—get your arm off me, damn it, and concentrate on thinking up something clever.”
Obediently, Ravagin removed his arm … but even as Danae swiped her fists at her eyes to dry them, she thought she saw a grimly satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “All right,” he said calmly. “Now: look around—carefully—and see if you can see anyone standing watch farther out from the entrance.”
Gritting her teeth, Danae again raised her head. They can’t see me, she reminded herself firmly. As far as they’re concerned, it’s pitch black out here … and I’m as invisible as if they were spirits. She took a good look, then lowered herself back down. “I don’t see anyone at all,” she whispered. “Just the dozen or so down there.”
Ravagin nodded. “Uh-huh. Interesting. Melentha’s definitely lost her ability to think tactically.”
“You could have fooled me,” Danae growled back. “Besides blocking the only exit from this triple damned planet, they also just happen to be standing in the middle of a lar, which makes them impregnable from any attack we could possibly come up with.”
“Impregnable?” Ravagin shook his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “Not even close—which is why I said Melentha’s lost her touch. Tell me, what’s the problem with sitting inside a lar circle?”
“Ravagin, this is no time for guessing games—”
“It’s the fact that you’re rooted to the spot there yourself, isn’t it?” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Sure you’re immune from any attack, at least for awhile … but if the attack keeps up, it’ll eventually get through. And you’re stuck there until it does.”
“Great—except that we haven’t the resources for that kind of attack,” she pointed out.
“True, but maybe we can come up with something that looks like one. Quiet a minute, please, I have to think.” He pursed his lips, gazing out into the darkness. “Okay,” he said at last. “Okay, I see what she’s got in mind. A small group, close in to the Tunnel, with no firebrats or dazzlers to tip us off … she’s hoping we’ll be lulled by the apparent inactivity all around and just walk right into their arms.”
Frowning, Danae lifted her head again. They certainly were being unnaturally quiet for men on boring nighttime guard. On the other hand—“But then why aren’t they waiting inside the cave where we wouldn’t have had any chance at all of seeing the
m?”
“Partly because Melentha and the demons aren’t too bright. Partly because the cave there is supposed to be even more haunted than the rest of the Cairn Mounds.”
“Spirit-possessed men shouldn’t care about ghost stories.”
“Agreed,” Ravagin nodded. “Which implies our little invisibility trick has forced her to give up using possessed people. Definitely a development in our favor.”
Or else, Danae thought, the spirit-possessed ones are hiding inside the cave. But even she could see now that it didn’t really matter. No matter who or what might be inside the Tunnel, she and Ravagin would still have no option but to go charging through and take their chances. “All right, I’m game,” she sighed. “I guess. So how are you going to fake a major attack on their lar?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet,” he admitted. “But I’ve got some ideas. You see, they may have all the numbers on their side; but we’ve got the one thing you can take between the worlds of Triplet.”
“And that is …?”
“Knowledge. Come on; let’s move back a couple of mounds and see what resources we’ve got here to play with.”
Chapter 32
THE SCRAGGLY BUSHES DOTTING the region yielded branches which, though rough and gnarled, were surprisingly strong and flexible. Their own clothing yielded strips of cloth which, Ravagin hoped, would be both strong enough and flammable enough for their purposes. The mounds themselves yielded plenty of stones and gravel of various sizes, including a precious piece of flint.
And an hour of painstaking work with all of it yielded the centerpiece of Ravagin’s plan: two small catapults.
“I don’t know,” Danae shook her head as he gave the baskets they’d made one final examination. “They don’t look like they’ve got anywhere near the range we’re going to need.”
“They’ll make it, all right,” he assured her. “Or they will once I get them back on that mound overlooking the Tunnel. The only tricky part’s going to be getting the delay timer to work right.”
“I still wish we had one of my composite bows instead,” Danae sighed. “But you’re the expert here. You grab the baskets and sticks; I’ll take the stones and pebbles.”
“Hold it,” Ravagin said as she reached down. “The rest of this is my job. Exclusively. Your job is to start circling over toward our breakaway point.”
“Ravagin—”
“No argument,” he interrupted her firmly. “If something goes wrong with the setting-up, the jackals down there will be all over this place. There’s no point in letting them have both of us, now, is there?”
He realized the instant it was out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have put it that way. Even in the faint starlight the sudden suspicion on her face was easy to see. “You’re not saying,” she said slowly, “that that was what your plan was all along, are you? To lure them up here and let me get away?”
“To let us get away,” he corrected. “Come on, Danae—you’ve never before mistaken me for a martyr; kindly don’t start doing it now. I fully intend to be there beside you when the balloon goes up—and if the Tunnel clears and you don’t move, I may just run straight over you. Got that?”
She took a deep breath and the suspicion faded somewhat from her face. Though not entirely. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “Now?”
“Now,” he nodded. “Remember that you’ve got all the time in the world, so don’t rush it.” He hesitated. “And once you’re in position behind the bush, it’d probably be a good idea for you to go ahead and get your clothes off.”
He braced for an argument, found himself mildly surprised when she merely nodded. “I understand. Should I leave my shoes on?”
“Right—good idea. They’ll make running easier, and you’ll be able to kick them off easily enough when we reach the telefold. Okay; get going. And good luck.”
She hesitated, then moved over to him and kissed him gently on the lips. “Be careful,” she whispered, and was gone.
He stared after her for several seconds, the lingering feel of her lips on his both vivid and slightly unreal. It was the second time she’d kissed him … and the first time she also hadn’t expected to ever see him again. …
Picking up one of the catapults with each hand, he eased himself to his feet and started cautiously back toward the Tunnel. Someday, he promised himself, he would have to see what it was like to kiss her without some deadly danger looming over their heads.
Just below the crown of his target mound, hidden from view from the Tunnel entrance below, was a ledge-like flat spot formed by a jutting mass of stone. Setting up one of the fulcrum stones, Ravagin placed a catapult arm across it, tying one end down with a braided cloth strip around part of the ledge. A small boulder went on the other end, and he winced as the cloth strip tore a bit and the stick creaked under the strain. But both held. A minute later the second catapult was similarly in position.
And now, he thought, wiping sweat from his forehead, comes the really tricky part.
Gathering his handful of pebbles together, he laid them out in a neat row and cupped his hands over the first one. He’d learned this combined invocation/binding spell a long time ago but couldn’t recall ever having used it … and if it turned out that the spirit appeared even briefly before disappearing into the pebble, he was going to bring the guard down on him in double-quick time.
In which case … well, at least Danae ought to be able to get away. He hoped she’d be smart and tough enough to take advantage of it.
Licking his lips, he took a deep breath. “Sa-trahist rassh myst-tarukha-pharumasziakai,” he whispered. For an instant there was the faintest spark of red light beneath his cupped hand, a spark that settled down into a dull red glow …
A glow, he abruptly realized, that was coming from the pebble. The firebrat had been successfully bound, and with nothing the men down at the Tunnel could possibly have spotted.
Ravagin let out his breath in a whoosh of relief. Carefully, he worked moisture back into his mouth and reached his hand to the next pebble in line.
It took nearly fifteen minutes before all the stones were glowing with trapped firebrats, and five minutes of scorching his fingers before they were all loaded into the little cloth baskets on the ends of the catapult arms. Belatedly, he hoped the pebbles’ internal heat wouldn’t burn through the baskets before the catapults could be triggered, but it was too late now to do more than worry about it. Careful not to let it clang on the rocks around him, he pulled out his sword and laid it down with its point next to the cloth strips holding down the first catapult. Gritting his teeth—the noise this might make could be as bad as he’d feared the light from the firebrat binding would be—he tapped the sword firmly with his flint.
It was louder than he’d anticipated, and for a dozen heartbeats he froze, waiting for the landscape to light up as the guards below invoked dazzlers and fanned out to find the source of the noise. But the world remained black, and after another moment he tried it again. And again. And again.
Finally, on about the twentieth try, he got a spark that actually settled into the cloth strip and began sending out tendrils of smoke. The second catapult was easier; it only took a couple of minutes and ten tries to start a smoldering fire on the restraining strip there.
And now it boiled down to a simple race: whether he could get around these mounds and into position with Danae before the things went off. Easing back down the mound, heart thudding in his ears, he resheathed his sword and headed off.
Rather to his amazement, he made it.
Danae was waiting for him exactly where he’d told her to, behind a bush a quarter of the way around the mound from the Tunnel’s entrance. She was also, as he’d ordered, completely naked except for her shoes. And clearly not enjoying it much.
“Well?” she breathed into his ear as he eased silently behind the bush with her.
“As far as I could tell, it’s ready to go,” he whispered back.
“You’d better get un
dressed, then, shouldn’t you?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so, not right away. I doubt they’re going to be so stupid as to all rush out there when the attack starts. Whatever guard they leave behind, I’m going to have to deal with them.” And deal with them, he added silently to himself, before one of them reinvokes a lar and blocks the Tunnel again.
“And what happens when they come charging back—” She broke off abruptly. “There—the first one’s just gone.”
Ravagin hadn’t heard it himself, but he knew by now not to doubt her hearing. “Cover your eyes,” he warned her, and leaned cautiously around the bush. From there he could just see the feint haze of the lar’s edge. …
And an instant later the haze exploded with flashes of light.
Someone around the corner barked a curse. “What the brizzling hell—?” someone else snapped.
“Firebrat attack,” a third voice heavy with authority cut the others off. “Where’d the invocation come from?”
“Didn’t hear one.”
“Come on, there must have been seven firebrats there—they couldn’t have come up by themselves.”
“Damn it all, knock off the chatter,” the authoritative voice ordered. “That won’t be the last attack—listen for wherever the hell they’re doing the invocation from.”
The group fell silent. Ravagin gritted his teeth, sending up a quick prayer for the second catapult. If its restraint had stopped burning …
He counted ten heartbeats; and then the second salvo of pebbles hit, the confrontation between spirits as the trapped firebrats attempted to pass through the lar sending flares of light across the landscape. Easing his hand onto his sword hilt, Ravagin braced himself. If the leader reacted to the unheard attack with any intelligence at all …
He did. “Carash-melanasta,” the other snapped. “Everyone—get out there and find him.”
“The lar—!”
“Shut up—you want to sit here and let him just break it down?” the leader snarled. “Spread out! Prilsift, Orlantin—you two stay here in case they try and slip past us. Everyone else, move.”