And he had left them. For a Mort. He could almost hear Zerena’s voice dripping with contempt. A godsdamned Mort.
Karsen stopped.
He’d been walking through grass, but it had been thinning over the last few miles and now it was gone completely. Instead a field of mostly rock stretched out before him. It was going to be harder on his hooves, certainly, which were already showing signs of wear and tear. But that was secondary to the fact that his quarry was going to be that much harder to track. Draquons left a distinct trail when they were moving through grassy plains and such. Everything from the bend of the blades to the faint smell of sulfur that accompanied them all acted as easy indicators. Everything became far more problematic on a rocky surface.
But Karsen didn’t see any other choice.
He got down on his hands and knees. His legs were protected by the thick, matted fur that thoroughly covered him. His hands were scraped up in places where the rocks were a bit jagged, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t live with.
Karsen lowered his face to the rocks and started sniffing around. As long minutes passed, he fought to keep down his fear. He wasn’t picking up anything.
The image of Jepp’s terrified face was etched in his mind. The Travelers had shown up out of nowhere, their long black cloaks flapping and their faces eternally hidden beneath their hoods. Astride their draquons, they had plucked the frightened young woman from within their midst. Karsen had been barely conscious when the attack had occurred, having been flattened by a punch to the head by his perpetually dyspeptic mother. When the Travelers had first arrived, credit Zerena with at least attempting to provide some manner of resistance. She hadn’t realized that they had been coming after Jepp; she was just trying to defend herself and her tribe. Had she realized that their target was the single human among them, she likely would have stood aside and told them to do with her whatever they wanted.
Karsen had barely had enough strength to lift his head when Jepp was carried away, his eyes narrow slits rather than open. Nevertheless he saw Jepp reaching toward him, screaming, trying to escape the firm grip of the Traveler who had ensnared her. Her screams seemed to echo in the still air long after she was gone.
As he continued his attempts to track her across the rocky surface, he remembered his mother raging at him, “That girl has done something to you!” as he prepared to take his leave of them. It hadn’t been his first choice. He would have far preferred the Bottom Feeders to come with him. The task he had set himself was indeed daunting and he could have used his long-time allies along with him, watching his back.
But that had never been an option. His mother was too intransigent, too disapproving of Jepp and too determined to keep her clan as free from trouble as possible, even if it meant allowing her only son to head off into the wilderness on his own.
That girl has done something to you!
The damning thing was, he knew his mother was right. He knew perfectly well that Jepp had done something. And it wasn’t even a matter of his not caring. He had, instead, embraced it.
So caught up was he in his musings that he almost missed it. But then his head snapped back and he retraced his steps a few feet.
There was a chip off a small section of stone, such as might have been left by a passing creature. The draquons had extremely hard feet, judging by the thunderous sound they made as they galloped across the land and their fabled imperviousness to injury of any sort. It was possible that the passing draquons had caused it to chip away.
And there. A second piece, also broken off. He held the chip closely to his nostrils. The faint but distinctive acrid aroma of a draquon wafted from it.
He continued to move a few yards more, and then his incredibly sharp eyes perceived a thin strand of hair lying on the ground. He picked it up delicately and he didn’t even have to take a whiff of it to know that the black strand had fallen from Jepp’s head.
Jepp and her abductors had come a long way by this point. Was she still struggling in their grasp? Was she screaming for help? Her throat would be raw and she’d probably have no voice left. But the mental image of her writhing in their grasp, trying to break free and not even coming close, drove him on.
He began to run again, convinced that he was moving in the right direction. His hooves beat a steady tattoo on the rocks as he sped across the barren plains, spurred on by the hope that he might somehow catch a glimpse of them. That was all he would need, a glimpse. And when he saw them, then pure adrenaline would enable him to overtake them.
And then…
Then what, you idiot?
It was his mother’s voice, sounding in his head. The disdain, the contempt for him was so realistic that she might well have been right beside him, rather than riding along like an unwanted passenger in his imagination.
Then what are you going to do? Zerena’s voice persisted. You’re going to fight a group of Travelers? Travelers, the good right arm of the Overseer here on the Damned World? You’re going to challenge them with that hammer on your back? How stupid are you? Or, more to the point, how stupid has that girl made you? The absolute worst thing that could happen to you is that you in fact catch up with them. Because you will, in your dementia, stand up to them and try to fight them. I attempted that, only because I thought they were attacking, and they brushed me aside as if I was nothing. So can you imagine what they will do to you if you actually try to pick a fight with them? No. No, I don’t think you are imagining it, because if you were, you’d realize that you have no business doing something so monumentally stupid. They will kill you, Karsen. They will kill you and whatever is left of you will be food for carrion eaters, and I will never see you again.
And he thought grimly, Good. That would probably be for the best.
It was at that moment that he realized he had lost the scent again.
He fought down panic once more as he methodically began to check around some more.
The shadows lengthened as the sun moved relentlessly across the sky, underscoring the passage of time, and still Karsen could find nothing.
Finally he backtracked, trying to pick up the scent yet again. Still nothing. It was as if they had vanished off the face of the planet.
Had they, in fact, done so? These were, after all, Travelers that he was trying to track down. The full extent of their powers was unknown. Could they have simply disappeared into some sort of hole in reality?
Or perhaps they had boarded a vehicle that had gone off in a completely different direction.
Or perhaps they had gone straight up…
He looked skyward, scanning the heavens. It was possible. He had never beheld a Zeffer at anything more than a great distance, but he knew they existed and knew what they were capable of. And even the Zeffers, or at least as they were commanded by their masters, the Serabim, would be as obliged to follow the dictates and demands of the Travelers as anyone else. So if the Travelers had issued commands—by what means they would convey their desires to the high flying Zeffers, Karsen could not even guess—then the Zeffers might well have airlifted them from their current path. Why? Had they detected Karsen’s following them? No. No, that made no sense. If they wanted to discourage pursuit, they would likely have just turned back upon him and attempted to run their draquons right over him. The act of going airborne, courtesy of the Zeffers, would simply have meant that they were attempting to reach someplace that the draquons couldn’t take them. Some high mountainous point, perhaps, or maybe over the vast ocean.
Karsen didn’t even realize his legs were buckling until suddenly he was on the ground. A long, ululating scream ripped from his throat and he pounded the ground in impotent fury with his fists.
It couldn’t end like this. It simply could not. What the hell kind of quest was this, to come up so miserably short? What was he supposed to do now? Return to the Bottom Feeders as a complete failure? After he had set off with such high-flown words and certainty that nothing in the world would stop him from finding Jepp and res
cuing her from her captors? There was no question in his mind that they would welcome him back, but he would feel small, diminished. Puny and pathetic.
He lost track of how long he expended energy in the pointless pursuit of venting his frustration. Eventually, though, he flopped on his back, gasping for air, his throat raw from bellowing his fury. Karsen was relieved that his mother couldn’t see him now. She would chortle at his relative helplessness and the absurdity of his predicament.
Karsen stared up at the blue-tinged skies. Thick clouds were crawling across them, not threatening with rain but covering the skies nevertheless. Then, for a moment, some of the clouds parted, and a stream of sunlight filtered through. In Karsen’s imagination, it was as if one of the gods was staring down from on high, the light issuing not from the sun but from the deity’s own orb.
He had never been much for praying. Karsen was reasonably certain that as far as the gods were concerned, everyone down there was on his or her or its own.
Yet now, frustrated, hungry, thirsty, and convinced that short of divine intervention, he would never see Jepp again…Karsen prayed.
“Gods,” he whispered to the nameless deities. “Gods, please, if you’re listening: Help me. Help me, because I…I need her. I’d love to tell you that this is all about her, and saving her from the Travelers, and rescuing her, but it’s not just that. It’s about how she makes me feel when I’m with her. It’s about having some sort of purpose in life instead of just being this…this creature who shows up on battlefields after it’s all over and picks up valuables and supplies and trinkets. When I’m with her…when I see how she looks at me, and looks up to me, and sees me with such love as no one else in my entire life does…she makes me happy to be alive. I’ve never felt that way, and I don’t want to go back to feeling the way I did before she showed up. Because I never realized before what a pointless and empty existence that’s been. So please, I’m begging you, gods on high, please…no matter how many cycles around the sun it may take, I will wait. I will wait however long you require, even if it seems endless, I—”
He heard a low moan from a short distance away.
Karsen sat up, confused and distracted by the noise. He knew instantly that it wasn’t Jepp; it was a male voice for starters. A Traveler? Possible, but not likely. Even if somehow a Traveler had been injured in some manner, they always rode in groups and would never leave one of their own behind.
There was a short cluster of rocks about three hundred feet away. It was a scattering of boulders that looked as if someone had dropped them from the sky in a random manner. The moaning was originating from behind them.
Slowly Karsen got to his feet, dusting off his legs. His instinct was to call out to whoever was obviously in some form of pain. Something made him restrain himself, though. It was nothing more than his normal caution, honed from many years of trying to make himself unnoticed by bigger, stronger members of the Banished (as the Twelve Races collectively referred to themselves)
His situation with Jepp was certainly not forgotten, but he was intrigued by the timing of hearing someone in distress just when he was in the midst of praying for divine intervention. The gods were renowned for moving in ways that were not only mysterious but also downright incomprehensible. As unlikely as it seemed, perhaps there was some chance that whoever he was hearing now, might somehow be sent as an avatar of the gods as a means of aiding him in his quest.
Is this how desperate you’ve become? Karsen thought. That you would grasp at the flimsiest of possibilities? Karsen Foux, the grand adventurer, embarking on a journey to save his lady love, reduced to praying for intervention and hoping that someone who is clearly in even worse shape than you are might be of some aid. You’ve been stinking of the road and your exertions for some time, but now you’re beginning to stink of desperation as well. And at what point did you suddenly start sounding like your mother?
He approached the boulders, not liking the fact that his hooves were clacking on the ground. It was impossible for him to make any sort of stealthy approach. Nor did he know for sure who or what he was going to be encountering on the other side. He could well be walking straight into some sort of ambush. At that moment, however, he really didn’t care all that much. His concern was so focused upon Jepp and his inability to find her that his own fate was of no relevance to him.
Whoever was on the other side of the rocks must have heard his approach, because the moaning abruptly ceased. When it did, Karsen froze in his tracks. He was unsure of what to do next. The entire concept of it being a trap returned to him once more. On the other hand, it was possible that whoever was there, presuming they were as injured as their pained voice made it sound, had lapsed into unconsciousness.
To hell with it, thought Karsen. He straightened up and boldly strode toward the boulders, no longer caring how much noise his hooves made.
Just before he reached them, an uneven voice came from behind the boulders. It sounded as if was trying to be threatening but didn’t come close to succeeding. “You just…just stay back,” it said with a growl. “Or I’ll kill you.”
Karsen hesitated. There was something about that voice that was extraordinarily familiar. He’d heard it not all that long ago, in fact. That voice, like several small rocks being rubbed together and slowly being crushed—
“Gods almighty,” he said with a gasp. “Eutok?”
“What?” The voice changed, sounding startled. The belligerence had vanished almost immediately. It even sounded a bit afraid, as if the mere mention of the name had robbed him of his power somehow. “That…who…?”
“It is!” Then he grew abruptly cautious. “Throw your axe out where I can see it!”
There was a pause and then the voice came with a great deal less belligerence. “You are an idiot,” it said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m hardly in a position to hurt anyone.”
There was every reason for Eutok to be lying about it, but Karsen decided to take the chance. He vaulted the remaining distance, his powerful legs propelling him through the air like coiled springs. He landed atop the boulders, prepared to leap back instantly if the situation required it.
He looked down.
“I’ll be damned,” he said.
Looking back up at him was Eutok of the Trulls. “I can only hope, Bottom Feeder.”
The short, barrel-chested, hirsute underground denizen looked as if he had been battered nearly to death. His beard was stained with what Karsen was quite sure was blood, although whether it was his own or someone else’s was impossible to determine. His already squat nose had been broken. One eye was swollen shut, while the other was halfway closed, although his pupil was visible through it, gazing hatefully at Karsen. His swollen lips pulled back in a sneer and several teeth was visibly missing.
“You’ve never looked better, Trull,” Karsen said with excessive cheer.
“Shut up.”
“As you wish,” said Karsen with a shrug, and he turned to leave.
Before he could do so, however, Eutok suddenly growled, “Wait.”
There was no reason for Karsen to obey him, and yet he did. He turned back to the Trull and regarded him with open curiosity. “What am I waiting for?” he said when Eutok did not speak immediately.
“I am…injured.”
“No! Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“This would be a great deal easier,” he said, his breath rattling in his ribcage, “if you could spare me what passes for wit in a Laocoon.”
“Spare you? Your people wanted to kill me and my clan.”
“And then I was the one who got you out of the Underground! My mother and brother would have annihilated you for your trespassing and your theft if it hadn’t been for me!”
“You are rewriting an interesting version of history, Trull,” Karsen said. He wasn’t angry. He was having far too good a time staring down at the helpless creature. “You helped us because you wanted us to slay your mother, the queen, so that you could take over as rule
r of the Trulls. A fascinating little plan. The last I saw of you, your brother, Ulurac, was endeavoring to kill you. I see he did not succeed.”
“Not for want of trying.” Eutok tried to sit up but then winced, grabbed his chest and slumped back again.
“How did you get here? In one of your handy underground cars?”
Slowly he managed a nod. Even that action seemed to cause him pain. “Barely. I got away from my brother…barely.”
“And not without cost.” He craned his neck to get a better look. “I believe you’ve lost part of your right ear.”
“It’s not lost. I know exactly where it is. It’s inside Ulurac’s stomach.”
“I doubt that it was your brother’s intention to swallow it.”
“Ah. Well, that makes everything all right then, doesn’t it.”
Karsen put his hands on his hips. “What would you of me, Trull? We have no business ‘tween each other. You aided our escape in the hopes that we would dispose of your mother for you, you power-grabbing wretch. We left you and your cursed brother to your mutual attempts at destruction. You’re lying there in your sweat and blood and stink, and it couldn’t happen to a more deserving individual as far as I’m concerned. Why are you even up here on the surface? Your kind abominates the light.”
“Because if I’d stayed below, they would have found me. Found me and…” His voice caught for a moment and then he simply repeated, “They would have found me.” He paused and then added, “And it would not have gone well for me.”
“An attempted fratricide, matricide and regicide all rolled into one? Hard to believe you wouldn’t have been the most popular Trull in the Underground. You still haven’t told me what you would have of me.”