Steel and Stone

Chapter 13

Caven knelt beside Wode, his squire and his nephew. Tanis stood uncertainly next to the grieving mercenary until the wild neighing of the half-elf's gelding drew his attention and brought him to the edge of the clearing. Dauntless was struggling vainly to rise. His eyes were glassy. The faithful horse grew quiet as the half-elf stroked his beautiful neck with a broad, gentle hand.

"I don't need telepathy to know what you're asking, old friend," Tanis whispered. He drew his sword, uttered a silent prayer, and slit the horse's throat. Dauntless's life bubbled into the soil of Darken Wood. Tanis stayed with the horse until his breathing ceased.

Using Kitiara's sword to fashion a grave, Caven was making little headway in the hard ground.

"It will take you hours at that rate," Tanis said quietly. "We must hurry after Kitiara and Lida."

"I'm going to bury him." Caven's voice was toneless.

"We could pile stones over the lad. It's the usual way for those who die where burying is difficult. And it's faster."

"He's my sister's child. I will bury him as she would have, back in Kern."

"But Kitiara…"

Caven's voice rose in determination. "Kitiara got herself into trouble; she can wait. I will bury Wode. You can help or not, as you choose. You owe me nothing, half-elf."

Tanis knew he would need Caven Mackid in the hours and days ahead, so he put aside his sword and began to dig with his bare hands. There came a rustling behind them, and Tanis wheeled quickly, expecting another onslaught. Instead it was Xanthar, pulling himself weakly to his feet. "Kai-lid," he said faintly. "We must find…"

"Who?" Tanis asked. The giant owl looked straight at him.

"Lida," Xanthar corrected himself. "We must go after Lida and Kitiara. To save them."

Tanis gestured mutely to indicate Caven, who hadn't bothered to look up. The swordsman was working steadily, scraping at the ground with his blade and picking rocks out of the hollow with his fingers. He had wrapped Wode's body in his own scarlet cape.

The owl nodded. "He will not leave him?" Tanis nodded his head. The owl hesitated. He looked toward the north. Then Xanthar gave a near-human approximation of a shrug. "Caven Mackid is right," Xanthar said. "It is best, in Darken Wood, to leave no funeral rite unobserved. We would not want to encounter this Wode in the ranks of the undead." The owl surveyed Caven a moment longer, then said briskly, "Nevertheless, there's not a moment to lose, and you are making little headway, human."

At this, Xanthar edged forward. "Allow me," the bird whispered. He opened his great, saw-edged beak and began to dig. Soon the depression grew into a shallow oblong trench.

Finally Xanthar drew back. "It is deep enough," he said. He spat and cleaned his beak of soil by running it through his wing feathers.

Caven started to object to the shallowness of the grave, then gave in. "All right," he said wearily.

They gently moved Wode's body into the hollow and covered it with twigs and leaves, dirt and rocks. "Kernish observances are silent," Caven said, and the half-elf and owl followed his lead as he stood beside the grave and bowed his head for several long minutes. When at last he looked up, his eyes were wet, but his face was resolute. He whistled for Maleficent. The horse stood uneasily as Caven and Tanis loaded Kitiara's pack and necessary belongings. After searching Wode's pack and finding nothing of consequence save a small amulet from his name-giving day, they hung the pack on a stick atop the teen's grave as a remembrance.

Then both men mounted Maleficent. "I'm not accustomed to cozying with any but women, half-elf," Caven complained. Tanis snorted and settled behind the Kernan on the stallion's broad back. With Xanthar circling overhead, they set off after Kitiara and Kai-lid.

The path seemed to head into mountainous terrain, but this time the ettin's footprints were nearly impossible to spot. Time and again the half-elf slid off Maleficent to search under plants and debris for the huge print. "He's being more cagey now," the half-elf mused.

Dawn seemed imminent, and Tanis realized he'd long since lost track of what time of day it was outside Darken Wood. The woods were lightening, losing some of their fearsome quality. One by one the eyes of the undead blinked and went put.

"This is your fault, half-elf," Caven said almost bitterly. When the half-elf, mounted behind Caven, drew back in surprise, the swordsman continued, "Your horse. Your useless gelding failed me."

"Your stallion was poorly trained. It would not even let you mount it."

"Yours was a coward."

"Dauntless carried me safely through many dangers, Mackid. You caused his death yourself with that melodramatic stab at a rescue."

"No great loss, losing a nag like that." Caven was silent for a time." Tanis was doing his best to keep his temper. "Anyway, you were the one who brought Kitiara the news of the ettin, half-elf."

"And you knew there might be a connection between the ettin and the Valdane and Janusz, but you didn't speak up!"

They continued in this vein, growing increasingly heated and acrimonious, until Xanthar dropped out of the sky and landed ahead of them on a branch overhanging the trail. Maleficent neighed and halted.

You two tire me.

"The same to you, owl!" Caven exploded, twisting to face the giant bird. "Why don't you just lead us to Kitiara and the mage, and spare us your babble?"

"Surely you speak telepathically with the mage," Tanis observed. "That at least would save us hunting for that damned creature's prints."

I have tried to mind-speak to her. She is too far distant. My ability has its limits.

"Then what good are you? You're as useless as the half-elf!" Caven kicked Maleficent into a trot.

Xanthar spoke offhandedly, but with the bright eyes that gauged the men's every emotion. Kitiara is with child, you know.

The two slammed to a halt.

"Pregnant!" The two men spoke at the same time. "I'm going to be a father?"

Horrified, they looked at each other. Caven's expression changed to one of mere annoyance, but Tanis was speechless.

The owl chuckled. Both of you, is it? Something else for the two of you to argue over. I refuse to listen. With a flick of his stubby tail and a thrum of his wings, Xanthar resumed circling. Maleficent moved into a canter without a signal from Caven. The black-bearded soldier spoke harshly to the half-elf.

"It's me, you know, half-elf. I'm the father."

Tanis snorted.

"She's known me longer than she knew you."

"As if that matters, Mackid." The revelation explained Kitiara's queasiness and ill temper, at any rate.

"It must be me," Caven persisted angrily. "It's me she loves. She lied to you that night at Haven. She stayed with me. Oh, Kitiara may rob me and run away, but she can't resist me when I turn up!" He laughed.

Enraged, Tanis slugged Caven. The two rolled off the stallion, hit the ground without loosing their holds on each other, and writhed and wrestled in the dirt. Dust and plant stems flew in the air as they pummeled each other. Xanthar coasted down again and landed nearby, watching with amusement.

Tanis was outweighed by the larger human, and soon the slighter half-elf was prone on the ground, fighting for breath under Caven's bulk. Tanis spat out dirt and fumed with the humiliation. The half-elf flailed ineffectually, but with Caven sitting on his back, there was little Tanis could do. Finally he gathered enough air to speak just above a whisper. Caven couldn't hear him and leaned closer.

"What is it, half-elf?"

"I said it should be interesting being the husband of Kitiara Uth Matar. Imagine marrying your own commanding officer. What a marriage that will be!"

Caven stood up hurriedly, disconcerted, allowing Tanis to roll over and get up.

"Marry?" Caven asked. "Who said anything about marrying? You know Kitiara. There's probably a half-dozen men between here and Kernen who could vie for the title of papa of Kitiara's byblow."

"And one half-elf-you forget."

Sarcasm oozed from the swordsman's words. "I suppose the honorable Tanis Half-Elven would marry his lady, set her up in a cozy cottage, and live happily ever after." Tanis felt his face grow red; it was embarrassingly close to what he had been thinking. Caven roared and slapped the half-elf on the back. "Half-elf, this is real life, not a fairy tale! You couldn't contain Kitiara in anything less than a prison cell."

"Are you saying you're not the father?"

Caven stopped short on his way back to Maleficent. "I'm saying I'm the most obvious choice"-he preened-"but there's no way Captain Kitiara could prove it."

A huge branch suddenly fell out of the sky, narrowly missing them. Both men leaped back with oaths and looked up, swords drawn. Xanthar was poised in the act of sending a second broken branch after the first.

You disgust me. Each man wants the credit, but not the blame.

"I would marry her," Tanis said mulishly, with a glare at Caven, who rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword.

That's laudable, half-elf. Perhaps you might consider asking Kitiara-if the opportunity arises, that is. But first, don't the two of you overgrown bullbears think we should rescue her from the ettin? It's either that or lose her-and Lida-in the recesses of the sla-mori.

"The sla-mori?" Tanis asked. "Then you know where the ettin's taking them?"

I can guess.

"Now, wait a minute," Caven said. "What's a sla-mori?"

"A sla-mori is a secret passage-a magical way of getting from one place to another," Tanis explained.

When Caven still looked perplexed, the owl took over. There is a rumor of a sla-mori somewhere in Darken Wood, although rumor places it in several locations. One of them is not too far from here, in the valley near Fever Mountain. This one, some say, will take its user far to the south-perhaps all the way to the Icereach, although some say the sla-mori's destination is elsewhere.

"Rumor?" Caven asked weakly. "We're plunging deeper into Darken Wood on the strength of a rumor?"

"Following advice given us in a dream," Tanis added. A half-smile lit his face, then vanished.

The owl pressed on. The sla-mori is the most logical solution. The ettin mentioned that Fever Mountain is near the sla-mori-or at least where it's rumored to be.

"Wait," Caven interjected again. He was livid; the only sign of color in his face was a scarlet streak high on each cheekbone, framed by his black hair and beard. "You knew all along that the ettin wanted to capture Kitiara? If you'd shared the information with us, Wode might be alive now!"

Xanthar had the grace to look ashamed, but he hid the expression by whetting his beak against a branch. I didn't know the real danger. I believed he'd take the swordswoman and the rest of you, but I didn't think any harm would befall anyone.

"But you were willing to let us take the risk!" Tanis cried.

Xanthar glowered down at them. We're on the same side now, half-elf. You have no choice but to trust me on the subject. And I'm not saying any more. The owl took off with a screech.

Caven and Tanis looked confusedly at each other, at the giant owl soaring above, and at Maleficent, foraging under a nearby bush.

"Well, half-elf?" Caven asked. "What do we do now?"

Tanis frowned. "Whatever the owl has been plotting, the fact remains that the ettin has Kitiara and the lady mage and intends to spirit them far away unless we stop them."

"And this is our problem, half-elf? Yours and mine?"

"Possibly. There's the lady mage's poem, after all.

'Lovers three, spell-cast maid.' It doesn't take the brightness of a will-o'-the-wisp to suspect that might refer to us."

"So what?" Caven muttered. "Who's paying us to get involved? Or are we supposed to risk our lives out of the goodness of our hearts?"

"It's worth keeping an open mind." Tanis glanced back in the direction from which they'd traveled. "The path has disappeared," he reminded Caven. "Unless you know Darken Wood well enough to guide us out, I'm guessing that going forward is our best choice."

Caven thought a moment, then shook his head as if he were in pain. "I've lost my nephew. I'm stuck looking for a woman who has double-crossed me at least once and who may-or may not-be carrying my child. To make matters worse, I'm traveling with a romantic half-elf who believes that only he could be the father. By the gods!"

The half-elf smiled. 'That's right," Tanis said, and started toward Maleficent with a look that said that he'd brook no nonsense from the stallion.

"Eh?" Caven dogged the half-elf's steps and caught up with him just as he reached for the black horse.

"You're stuck," Tanis said, mounting the stallion. He extended a hand to Caven Mackid, indicating that the Kernan should swing up behind him on the horse. "As am I. So let's go."

"Look!" Kitiara cried suddenly. "Did you see that, mage?"

The spell-caster looked where Kitiara was pointing. "I don't see anything," the mage said. "Nothing but the eyes of the und-" Kitiara poked her in the ribs, and the mage broke off.

The ettin followed Kitiara's pointing finger, too. Until now, he'd walked behind them with both clubs ready to help keep them on the path, which opened before them and then closed just as suddenly as soon as the two-headed creature passed. "The hand of Janusz," Kitiara had muttered when she'd first observed the phenomenon.

"What see?" Res-Lacua cried now. "What see?"

"A pig!" Kitiara pretended to spy it off to the right. "There-a tender piglet!"

"Yes!" Kai-lid chimed in. "I see it now."

"Food!" The ettin rejoiced. He darted toward the underbrush, where Kitiara knew nothing waited but the hungry undead. The ettin paused and looked back at the women. He gestured and shouted, "You stay here!" Kitiara and Kai-lid nodded as he plunged out of sight.

"The undead should finish him off in no time," Kitiara said quietly to Kai-lid. "Then you can call your owl to come get us."

The mage looked dubious. Several times since the ettin had dragged them off, Kitiara had whispered to Kai-lid to unleash her magic and free them from the ettin's influence, but Kai-lid had only shaken her head. "I can't," she finally said. "I already tried a spell. Nothing happened."

"Why not?" Kitiara demanded. "Is it the woods?" But the mage only shrugged. Worry lines wrinkled her forehead.

Now Kitiara, having taken matters into her own hands, waited for the screaming that would tell her that the undead were pressing around the ettin, feeding off his fear, heightening his terror, slaying him-and freeing the women.

Then she, with this useless mage in tow, would go back to the clearing. She'd go back for her pack. She'd retrieve the ice jewels that had caused all this. She wondered if Tanis and Caven would still be at the clearing. If they'd left, would they have had the sense to take her belongings with them? Or would they have left the irreplaceable pack behind for the un-dead? Kitiara listened to the ettin crashing through the underbrush and waited for Res-Lacua's lingering death.

But there were no sounds other than those of the ettin uprooting saplings in his search for a pork dinner. The two women exchanged grim looks. "Well?" Kai-lid asked. Kitiara lifted her shoulders and let them drop.

The ettin appeared before them on the trail. Both of his faces were long. The right head appeared near tears; the left head looked merely baffled. "Pig got away," Lacua complained. He motioned them on with one club.

"I don't get it," Kitiara whispered as they resumed walking. "If you can't count on the undead to kill something, who can you count on?"

Kai-lid blinked, seeming to hide a smile. "The undead feed off fear?" she asked. Kitiara nodded, and Kai-lid ventured, "Perhaps Res-Lacua is too stupid to know he's supposed to be afraid of them."

Kitiara stopped in her tracks and swore until Res-Lacua poked her with the club. Kai-lid grabbed the swordswoman's arm and hauled her along, but the mercenary continued spewing oaths for several minutes before she finally ran down.

"It's all right," the mage said. "Women in your condition are often emotional."

"What are you talking about?" Kitiara snapped. "I'm in fine condition!" She even picked up the pace, hiking along at a speed that ate up the distance. While the ettin merely lengthened his strides, Kai-lid practically had to run to keep up with her. Thus Kitiara was moving at rapid speed when the mage calmly mentioned her pregnancy.

This time Kai-lid found herself staring at Kitiara s fist. "Not funny, mage," the swordswoman hissed.

Kai-lid's hood slipped back from her face. "You mean you don't know?"

"And how would you know if I were with child, which I assure you I am not?"

"Are you so certain?"

Kitiara's hand wobbled as she reviewed the past few days and weeks. "By Takhisis!" she finally breathed, horror flickering across her face. Then reason reasserted itself, and she glared at the mage. "You say you're a mage, not a healer, and every so-called healer I've met has been a charlatan, anyway. So I repeat: How would you know?"

Kitiara pointed behind an oak. "I just saw that young pig again, ettin!" Kai-lid nodded vigorously at the creature, who scrambled toward the tree. "How would you know?" Kitiara reiterated to Kai-lid, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

Kai-lid shrugged out of Kit's grasp. "I can look within people sometimes. I cannot heal, and I cannot diagnose, but I can sense things. Xanthar showed me how. He cannot do magic, but he has other powers, some of which you've seen. He sensed your condition as well, back at the clearing."

"Damn!" Kitiara said, then looked hopefully at the mage. "Can you do anything about it?"

"Do?"

"Get rid of it."

The mage's dark face flushed. "I said I am a mage, and a mage only. That is beyond my talents-and my inclinations."

Kitiara had endured trials in her life-the desertion of her adored soldier father when she was young, the remarriage of her mother, the birth of her half-brothers, the death of her mother and stepfather, and her decision to leave home and become a mercenary at an age when other girls in Solace were occupied chiefly with dreaming of marriage. But this…

All thought that the mage might be lying had flown from her mind. Her own body told her Lida must be speaking the truth. "Blast it to the Abyss!" Kitiara breathed softly. "Now what?"

The ettin returned to the path. "Dumb pig fast," he complained.

"What is it, Lida?" Kitiara finally snapped.

"Fever Mountain," the mage said, pointing to the near-treeless escarpment. "Xanthar said the sla-mori is in its shadow."

"So?" Kitiara had heard of sla-moris, but the significance of this particular secret passage eluded her.

"He'll meet us there, I know. Xanthar says those of Darken Wood believe a sla-mori near Fever Mountain leads far to the south, perhaps to the Icereach. He believed the ettin might try to take us there in order to transport us to the Valdane."

"And Xanthar knows where this sla-mori is?" Kitiara asked, brightening. "That's perfect! He'll bring Tanis and Caven and Wode, we'll all kill the ettin, and we'll be on our way back to Haven."

They gazed up the side of the mountain, Kitiara smiling with satisfaction, Kai-lid frowning. Large chunks of shale and granite were strewn over the escarpment. Huge rocks had slid down the incline, leaving the ground littered with boulders, some the height of a human. Finally the swordswoman noticed that the mage didn't share her exultation. "What's the problem?" Kitiara asked. "We're where the owl expects us to be, aren't we?"

Kai-lid shook her head. "No, we're not. The valley is back there." She pointed south, where a patch of green could barely be seen at the edge of the towering mountain. As Res-Lacua prodded them up a path that would have strained a highland goat, the mage said, "We're not going to the valley of the sla-mori at all. And I'm too far away to mind-speak to Xanthar to let him know."

Kitiara stared at the woman, her head beginning to swim again. She'd felt this way often enough lately to know that she was about to be sick-whether it was from Lida's revelation, Darken Wood pressing in around her, or the blows to the head she had suffered, she didn't know. From a long distance away, she heard Lida cry out and reach for her.

Kitiara fainted.

Janusz poured water into a wooden trencher. Melted snow-that's what he was forced to use now. It was nothing like the artesian waters he'd had in Kern. He cast the special powders upon the surface and said the words. The liquid reflected his lined face; the un-dissolved powder floating in the water looked like mold upon his image.

Then the scene began to shimmer in the water. Janusz saw a rose-gray granite slab carved with the leaves, flowers, and animals Dreena had loved. The mage forced himself to look at the inscription. Despite his fatigue, the sight stirred his strength and anger.

Dreena ten Valdane

Lagrimat

Ei Avenganit

"Dreena, daughter of Valdane," Janusz translated from Old Kernish. "We mourn. And we will avenge."

Janusz ended the scrying with a shiver. He hadn't been truly warm for months. He longed for the comforting embrace of the stone fireplaces of the Valdane's castle back in the woodlands of Kern. He recalled the earthy smell of woodsmoke, the tang of warm drinks, the infectious music of lyre and flute that formed a backdrop for the movements of serving girls bearing trays of fruit and cheese. That had been a splendid time.

It was before the war, of course. And long before Dreena's marriage. He'd worn the red robe of neutral magic then, having discarded the white garb of the mages who followed the path of good. Not yet had he donned the black robe he wore now.

Janusz shook off the image of the gravestone. The two fiefdoms, Kern and Meir, were now one, he knew-ruled, to worsen the insult to the Valdane, by a committee of minor nobles who'd served under the Valdane and the Meir. They'd even hinted at giving peasants limited governance over aspects of their lives-aspects that wouldn't inconvenience the ruling families too greatly, of course.

Soon Res-Lacua would bear Kitiara Uth Matar and Lida Tenaka to the pinnacle of Fever Mountain. Soon Janusz would draw out his remaining ice jewel and command the ettin, through the Talking Stone, to bring out the ice jewel that the monster held in its possession. Then Janusz would speak the words, engender the magic that would teleport the women and the ettin across the continent of Ansalon. He would torture Kitiara until he discovered the whereabouts of the other ice jewels, and he would also satisfy his curiosity about Lida's mysterious connection with the swordswoman.

He was being indulgent in abducting the serving-woman, too, he knew. It was difficult enough to harness the power of the ice jewels to teleport one, much less two or three beings. He'd spent long hours coaching the ettin, practicing with the jewels; once he had teleported a bewildered gully dwarf who, upon arriving at the snowy Icereach, had taken one look around and passed out cold. The next instant, thanks to the mage's powers, the nasty little creature had been sent back to a knoll north of Que-kiri. Upon awakening, the gully dwarf had instantly proclaimed that the long-dead rat he carried around with him had given him inestimable powers to travel through time and space.

Janusz smiled. He'd gained better control since the gully dwarf incident. He was actually looking forward to using the ice jewels again.

The first thing Kitiara noticed was that she seemed to be outside her own body, observing herself dispassionately. This is absurd, Kit thought hazily. I'm dreaming.

The Kitiara she saw wasn't wearing chain mail. This woman crouched over a fire in a hearth, dressed in-of all the ridiculous costumes-a flower-print dress and an apron, both festooned with lace. The dress was pink, the apron white, and as the dream-Kitiara moved to check the cornbread and lamb stew that bubbled in a pot above the embers, the lace of her dress kept tearing against the bricks of the hearth. It was steaming in the kitchen. Sweat poured down her neck; the brocade of the impossible dress clung to her arms and back. Yet this dream-Kitiara hummed as she slaved over the hearth, apparently mindless of the torturous heat, even as the real Kitiara-who would rather be caught dead than in a dress or a kitchen-watched from a side corner, unable, in the way of dreams, to protest.

When the domesticated dream-Kitiara rose from the hearth, something else was apparent-she was very pregnant. As she moved toward the worktable, it was obvious that she must be under a physical strain. Her ankles were swollen, her face puffy. Yet she was singing, by the Abyss! Some witless song-a nursery rhyme set to a simple tune.

A wail rose from a cradle in the corner, and the pink-and-white Kitiara brushed floury hands against her apron and raised a dimpled creature of about nine months. The baby was as bald as a marble, but what caught the real Kitiara's attention were the infant's huge, pointed ears and its eyes so tilted that the baby could barely open them. How could a quarter-elf baby look more elven than even its half-elf father?

As the dream-Kitiara settled into the rocker, proceeding to balance the infant over her pregnant abdomen and offer it a breast, a door slammed somewhere, and the kitchen filled with screaming children-all with ludicrously large and pointed ears. They were constantly in motion, like a school of fish; there seemed to be hundreds!

Kitiara had watched wounded comrades choke to death on their own blood without feeling much except annoyance that they'd gotten themselves killed. Now, however, she found herself dumb with horror at the thought of such an army of children clinging to her skirts. The real Kitiara would rather face a phalanx of goblins than this mob of urchins.

The dream-Kitiara got up and rested the still-nursing baby on the table as she opened a ceramic container and dispensed cookies to the jostling children like a cardsharp dealing from the bottom of a deck.

All the girls wore frothy confections of pink and white. Each cradled a fat elf doll; not one wielded a toy shield or battle-ax. The boys, on the other hand, pranced in tiny buckskin outfits and clutched minuscule bows in grubby hands.

Then the door slammed again, and a roar filled the dwelling. The children scattered like leaves before the wind, coalescing again behind their mother. Tanis appeared in the doorway. But this Tanis was overweight, flushed, and unwashed-a very drunken half-elf, who belched as he leaned against the doorframe. He surveyed the crowd of children with a repulsion that matched the real Kitiara's.

"Where's my supper?" he demanded. "I'm hungry."

"You haven't been home in months!" shrieked the dream-Kitiara. "Where have you been, sloth?"

"Nowhere in particular." The dream-Tanis did a double-take, leering at her. "What? With child again? Good gods, woman!"

From the corner, the real Kitiara tried to offer advice to the dream-Kitiara, who stood with tears dripping onto her frock. "Draw your sword!" Kitiara tried to shout. "Slice him through! Drop these hellions at the nearest orphanage and get out of there!" But no words issued forth.

The dream-Kitiara turned and, groaning with the effort, stretched for the unsheathed sword that decorated the wall over the hearth. The real Kitiara felt her heart leap. But her dream-twin merely used the blade, which had saved dozens of lives and stolen countless others, to slice a loaf of homemade bread. Then she herded her flock to the supper table. She hustled Tanis's inebriated frame from the doorway to the head of the table. "Stew again?" he complained.

Wordless and unseen, the real Kitiara shuddered. If this was what awaited her, she'd rather be tortured to death.

Although, truth to tell, what was the difference?