Elven Star

17

“Are you sure that’s rock?” Paithan asked. Peering down into the gloom at a patch of grayish white beneath them, barely visible through a tangle of vines and leaves.

“Sure, I’m sure,” answered Roland. “Remember, we’ve traveled this route before.”

“It’s just that I’ve never heard of rock formations this far up in the jungle.”

“We’re not exactly that far up anymore, remember? We’ve dropped quite a ways down.”

“Well, we’re not getting anywhere standing here staring at it!” put in Rega, hands on her hips. “We’re cycles late with the delivery as it is. And you mark my words, Blackbeard’ll try to shave off the price. I’ll go down, if you’re afraid, elf!”

“I’ll go,” countered Paithan. “I don’t weigh as much as you do and if the outcrop is unstable, I’ll—”

“Weigh as much! Are you saying that I’m fa—”

“You both go,” interrupted Roland in soothing tones. “I’ll lower you and Rega down there, Quin, then you lower Rega on down to the bottom. I’ll send the packs to you and you can pass Stem on down to my sis—er—my wife.”

“Look, Roland, I think the elf should lower you and I down—”

“Yes, Redleaf, that does, indeed, seem to me to be a much better solution—”

“Nonsense!” Roland interrupted, pleased with his own de-VlBUsness, further plots fomenting in his mind. “I’m the strongest and from here down to that outcrop is the longest haul. Any arguments there?”

Paithan glanced at the human male—with his square-jawed handsome face and his rippling biceps—and clamped his mouth shut. Rega didn’t look at her brother at all. Biting her lip, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared down into the shadowy gloom of the jungle below.

Paithan fixed a rope around a tree limb, cinched it tight around himself and hopped over the edge of the moss bank almost before Roland was there to steady him. He rappeled himself easily off the steep sides of the bank, Roland holding the line to keep the elf steady.

The line suddenly went slack.

“All right!” came a shout from below. “I’m here!” There was a moment’s silence, then the elf’s voice echoed upward, filled with disgust. “This isn’t rock! It’s a damn fungus!”

“A what?” Roland yelled, leaning as far over the edge as he dared.

“A fungus! A giant mushroom!”

Catching his sister’s fiery-eyed glance, Roland shrugged. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I think it’s stable enough to use for a landing anyway,” Paithan returned, after a moment’s pause. The two humans caught something additional about being “damn lucky,” but the words were lost in the vegetation.

“That’s all I needed to know,” said Roland cheerfully. “All right. Sis—”

“Stop calling me that! You’ve done it twice now today! What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing. Sony. Just a lot on my mind. Over you go.” Rega tied the rope around her waist, but she didn’t lower herself over the edge. Looking out into the jungle, she shivered and rubbed her arms. “I hate this.”

“You keep saying that, and it’s getting boring. I’m not wild about it either. But the sooner finished the sooner ended, as the saying goes. Hop on over.”

“No, it’s not just … the darkness down there. It’s something else. Something’s wrong. Can’t you feel it? It’s too … too quiet.” Roland paused, looked around and listened. He and his aster had been together through tough times. The outside world had been against them since they’d been born, they’d teamed to iety on and trust only each other. Rega had an intuitive, almost animallike sense about people and nature. The few times Roland—the elder of the two—had ignored his sister’s advice or warnings, he’d regretted it. He was a skilled woodsman and, now that she drew his attention to it, he, too, noticed the uncanny silence.

“Maybe it’s always quiet down this far,” he suggested. “There’s not a breath of air stirring. We’re just used to hearing the wind in the trees and all that.”

“It’s not just that. There’s no sound or sign of animals and hasn’t been for the last cycle or so. Not even at night. And the fctrds are silent.” Rega shook her head. “It’s as if every wild creature in this jungle is hiding.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re near the dwarven kingdom. That’s got to be it, kid. What else would it be?”

“I don’t know,” Rega said, staring intently into the shadows. “I don’t know. I hope you’re right. Come on!” she added suddenly, “let’s end this.” Roland lowered his sister over the edge of the moss bank. She rappeled skillfully down the side. Paithan, waiting below, reached up his hands to steady her landing. The look she gave him from her dark eyes warned him to stand clear. Rega landed tightly on the wide ledge formed by the fungus, her lips curling slightly as she eyed the ugly gray and white mass below her feet. The rope, tossed over the edge by Roland, snaked down and landed in a coil at her feet. Paithan began attaching his own length of rope to a branch.

“What’s this fungus attached to?” Rega asked, her tone cool and business-only.

“The bole of a tree,” said Paithan, his tone the same. He pointed out the striations of the bark, wider than both elf and human standing side by side.

“Is it stable?” she asked, looking over the rim uneasily. Another moss bank was visible below, not that far if you had a rope tied securely around your waist, but a long and unpleasant drop if you didn’t.

“I wouldn’t jump up and down on it,” suggested Paithan. Rega heard his sarcasm, cast him a angry glance, and then tamed to shout above. “Hurry up, Roland! What are you doing?”

“Just a minute, dear!” he called down. “Having a little trouble with one of the tyros.”

Roland, grinning, sat down on the edge of the moss bank, leaned up against a tree limb and relaxed. Occasionally he poked at one of the tyros with a stick, to make it bellow.

Rega scowled, bit her lip, and moved to stand on the edge of the fungus, as far from the elf as she could possibly get. Paithan, whistling to himself, fixed his rope tightly around the tree limb, tested it, then began to fasten Rega’s.

He didn’t want to look at her, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes kept darting glances in her direction, kept pointing out things to his heart that his heart wasn’t the least bit interested in hearing.

Look at her. We’re out in the middle of this Om-cursed land, alone, standing on a fungus with a twenty-foot drop beneath us and she’s as cool as Lake Enthial. I never met a woman like her!

With luck, whispered a certain vicious part of him, you’ll never meet one again!

Her hair is so soft. I wonder what it looks like when she lets it down out of that braid, falling over her bare shoulders, tumbling around her breasts…

. Her lips, her kiss was just as sweet as I’d imagined … Why don’t you just throw yourself off the edge! The nasty voice advised him. Save yourself a lot of agony. She’s out to seduce you, blackmail you. She’s playing you for a foo—

Rega sucked in her breath and backed up involuntarily, hands clutching at the tree trunk behind her.

“What is it?” Paithan dropped the rope, sprang over to her. She was staring intently straight ahead, straight out into the jungle. Paithan followed her gaze.

“What?” he demanded.

“Do you see it?”

“What!”

Rega blinked and rubbed her eyes. “I—I don’t know.” She sounded confused. “It seemed … as if the jungle was … moving!”

“Wind,” said Paithan, almost angrily, not wanting to admit how frightened he’d been, or the fact that the fear hadn’t been for himself.

“Do you feel any wind?” she demanded.

No, he didn’t. The air was still, hot, oppressive. His thoughts went uneasily to dragons, but the ground wasn’t shaking. He didn’t hear the rumbling sound the creatures made moving through the undergrowth. Paithan didn’t hear anything. It was quiet, too damn quiet.

Suddenly, above them, came a shout. “Hey! Come back here! You blasted tyro—”

“What is it?” Rega yelled, turning, standing back on the ledge as far as she dared, trying hopelessly to see. “Roland!” Her voice cracked with fear.

“What’s the matter?”

“These stupid tyros! They’ve all bolted!”

Roland’s bellow faded into the distance. Rega and Paithan heard the sound of crashing, tearing leaves and vines, felt the pounding of his feet shiver the tree, and then silence.

“Tyros are tractable beasts. They don’t panic,” said Paithan, Swallowing to moisten his dry throat. “Not unless something really terrifies them.”

“Roland!” Rega yelled. “Let them go!”

“Hush, Rega. He can’t! They’re carrying the weapons—”

“I don’t give a damn!” she cried frantically. “The weapons and die dwarves and the money and you can go to the pit for all I care! Roland, come back!” She beat on the tree trunk with denched fists. “Don’t leave us trapped down here!

Roland!

“What was that—”

Rega whirled around, panting. Paithan, face ashen, stared out into the jungle.

“Nothing,” he said, lips stiff.

“You’re lying. You saw it!” she hissed. “You saw the jungle move!”

“Ifs impossible. Ifs a trick of our eyes. We’re tired, not enough sleep …” A terrifying cry split the air above them.

“Roland!” Rega screamed. Pressing her body against the tree trunk, hands scrabbling at the wood, she tried to crawl up it. Paithan caught hold of her, dragged her down. Furiously, she fought and struggled in his arms. Another hoarse scream and then there came a cry of “Reg—” The word broke off with a strangled choke.

Rega went suddenly limp, collapsing against Paithan. He held her fast, his hand on her head, pressing her face against his breast. When she was calmer, he backed her up against the tree trunk and moved to stand in front of her, shielding her with his body. Once she realized what he was doing, she tried to shove him aside.

“Rega, don’t. Stay where you are.”

“I want to see, damn it!” Her raztar flashed in her hand. “I can fight—”

“I don’t know what,” Paithan whispered. “And I don’t know how!” He stood aside. Rega emerged from behind him, her eyes wide and staring. She shrank against him, her arm stealing around his waist. Paithan put his arm around her and held her tight. Clinging to each other, they watched the jungle move in silently, surrounding them.

They could see no heads, no eyes, no arms, no legs, no body, but they each had the intense impression that they were being watched and listened to and sought out by extremely intelligent, extremely malevolent beings. And then Paithan saw them. Or rather, he didn’t see them. He saw what appeared to be a part of the jungle separate itself from its background and move toward him. Only when it was quite near him, when its head was almost level with his own, did he realize that he was confronting what appeared to be a gigantic human. He could see the outline of two legs and two feet that walked the ground. Its head was even with his. It moved straight up to them, stared straight at them. A simple act, but the creature made this simple action horrible by the fact that it apparently couldn’t see what it stalked. It had no eyes; a large hole surrounded by skin in the center had seemingly been bored into the center of its forehead.

“Don’t move!” Rega panted. “Don’t talk! Maybe it won’t find us.” Paithan held her close, not answering, not wanting to destroy her hope. A moment before, they’d been making so much noise that a blind, deaf, and drunken elflord could have found them.

The giant approached, and now Paithan could see why it had seemed the jungle was moving. Its body was covered from head to toe with leaves and vines, its skin was the color and texture of tree bark. Even when the giant was extremely close, Paithan had difficulty separating it from its background. The bulbous head was bare and the crown and forehead, that were a whitish color and bald, stood out against the surroundings.

Glancing around swiftly, the elf saw that there were twenty or thirty of the giants emerging from the jungle, gliding toward diem, their movements graceful and perfectly, unnaturally silent.

Paithan shrank back against the tree trunk, dragging Rega with him. It was a hopeless gesture, there was obviously no escape. The heads, with their awful dark and empty holes, stared straight at them. The one nearest put his hands upon the edge of the fungus and jerked on it.

The ledge trembled beneath Paithan’s feet. Another giant Joined its fellow, large fingers grabbing, gripping. Paithan looked down at the huge hands with a terrible kind of fascination, saw that the fingers were stained red with dried blood.

The giants pulled, the fungus shivered, and Paithan heard it lipping away from the tree. Almost losing their balance, the elf and human clung to each other.

“Paithan!” Rega cried, her voice breaking, “I’m sorry! I love you. I truly do!”

Paithan wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. Fear had dosed off his throat, stolen his breath.

“Kiss me!” Rega gasped. “That way, I won’t see—” He caught hold of her head in his hands, blocking her vision. Closing his own eyes, he pressed his lips against hers.

The world dropped out from underneath them.