Timothy Zahn - Triplet

It took the tumbleweeds bare seconds to get into final position, lined up in a solid row completely blocking the street, and as Ravagin galloped toward them he saw that each machine had three to five gently waving tendrils rising out from somewhere in its interior. Like faint echoes of the prehensile grabbing action of Darcane Forest's Berands fronds.

Or perhaps of scorpion glove whips...

Ravagin gritted his teeth. He had no choice at all: it was either make it over that barrier or else face the ghost carriage behind him and the even deadlier troll still on its way. And the only way to get his horse's legs past those waving tendrils would be to let them grab something else.

Jamming the reins into the crook of his left elbow, he reached over to his right wrist. The timing on this was going to be tight, with no margin for error. Eyes on the tumbleweeds, he made a quick calculation of the distance, adjusted his horse's stride for the jump. The barrier was seven meters ahead now; six; four—

And the scorpion glove whip lashed out and down, grazing the tops of the two tumbleweeds directly ahead.

The tendrils were fast, all right. Before Ravagin had even a chance to withdraw it, they had the whip thoroughly entangled. The end vanished into the center of one of the tumbleweeds, and abruptly the slack in the whip disappeared as something in the tumbleweed's center began reeling it in. Clenching his jaw, Ravagin fought for balance against the pull. The horse reached its take-off point, Ravagin kicked him into the jump—

And as they sailed unhindered over the barrier Ravagin tore open the wrist band holding the scorpion glove onto his right hand. With one final tug that threatened to pull him bodily off his mount, the glove was yanked off.

From behind came another scream of rage... of rage, but with an underlying coloring of frustration.

Licking his lips, Ravagin took a ragged breath and permitted himself a grim smile. The edge of Horma flashed by, and a second later he was driving hard across open grass toward the forest beyond. From the sound of that scream the troll and sky-plane were still too far behind him to catch up before he reached the forest. He was going to make it...

Unless it occurred to Astaroth to put the sky-plane down within crossbow range of Ravagin's back.

The smile vanished from Ravagin's lips, and he hunched down over the horse's neck, feeling the skin tightening between his shoulderblades.

But for once, the demon missed a bet. The sky-plane chased Ravagin right up to the edge of the forest, even attempting to force its way through the branches until its increasingly reduced speed seemed to finally persuade Astaroth that that approach wasn't going to work. The noise of it backing out through that same tangle of branches came as Ravagin, fighting hard to keep up his speed without running into a tree, shot on ahead. There was another scream—

And then there was silence.

Licking his lips, Ravagin fought the shaking in his hands and settled down for the long ride ahead.

The die was cast; and in many ways what happened now was totally out of his hands. Riding as fast as a troll could hope to chase him on foot, with the forest's canopy sealing him off from any kind of aerial attack or landing, he was virtually assured of reaching the Tunnel some eighty-five kilometers away. The only question remaining was whether or not Astaroth would realize that his only hope of stopping Ravagin was to fly on ahead and wait for him at the Tunnel.

It was almost certain that he would.

It was nearly sundown when Ravagin finally reached the clearing surrounding the Tunnel... to find the demon/troll waiting there for him.

"You have come," the mechanical voice boomed out as Ravagin cautiously approached the last line of trees on foot. "I have grown weary waiting for you."

"Translation: you hoped the forest animals would take care of me for you?" Ravagin called. The demon/troll was standing directly in front of the Tunnel's entrance, its feet half buried in an unusually thick leaf cover that seemed to have filled much of that part of the clearing. Cautiously, Ravagin eased around one tree, made for a second—

The demon/troll's hand snapped up, and a crossbow bolt sizzled past Ravagin's ear.

With a lunge, he dived into cover. That one had been far too close for comfort... "Still having trouble handling the auto-fire circuits, I see," he said, throwing a quick look around the tree. The demon/troll was making no attempt to move in. "Your dumb little parasite spirits had that same problem. I assumed a full-fledged demon would do somewhat better."

"Taunt me while you may," Astaroth retorted. "Your death is close and certain. I will kill you, and when the female human returns I will kill her, as well."

"Her name is Danae," Ravagin said, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead as he studied the area all around him in the fading light. Hart had said he would blaze the tree where the trigger was set, but so far there was no sign of any such mark. "Danae. I'd think you'd pay more attention to human names. Especially given how important your spirit names are to you. Good thing I know yours now, isn't it?"

A second crossbow bolt thudded into Ravagin's tree—a wasted shot, clearly fired in pure anger. If the troll had been carrying the usual complement of four sharp and two blunted stun bolts when Astaroth took it over, that meant two killing shots left. Getting him to expend those shots would make things a hell of lot safer... "Do I take it you're sensitive about your name, then?" he called. "Or are you just mad about how easily we pitiful humans can use those names for our own purposes?"

He held his breath; but the demon had apparently regained his temper and no shot was fired. "You cannot trick me into coming into the woods after you," Astaroth snarled. "You may know my name, but neither Danae nor Gartanis do, and without it they will have no true power over me. I will not risk you passing me in the gloom of night to deliver that knowledge to them. I will wait for you here."

Translation, Ravagin thought, he really is having trouble with the troll sensor circuitry. Otherwise there wouldn't he a chance of me sneaking by him whether he came out here or not. Which was definitely to Ravagin's advantage; or it would be if and when he ever found Hart's damn blazed tree.

Gritting his teeth, he gave the area another careful scan; and then, on sudden impulse, looked above him.

There, two meters up the trunk of his tree, was a neat cut.

He smiled tightly. Good old Hart; reading Ravagin's own tactical thoughts to the point of even anticipating the direction and path he'd choose to approach the clearing. Fumbling at his belt, Ravagin pulled out the watchblade and explored beneath the leaves at the base of the trunk with his free hand. There it was: the hard ridge of a thin rope circling the tree. He eased an eye around the trunk to confirm that Astaroth was indeed still standing in front of the Tunnel. Taking a deep breath, he said a quick prayer for Hart's skill and slashed the edge of the watchblade into the cord—

From Ravagin's right came the crackle of breaking branches as a tree a dozen meters into the forest was abruptly released from its bindings and snapped back toward the vertical; and at the same instant, the ground beneath the demon/troll erupted in a flurry of dead leaves as the fishing net Hart had so carefully laid out there was yanked from its concealment. Leaning out from behind his tree, Ravagin watched as the demon/troll, firmly caught in the net, was hauled up and out into the nearby trees.

And to see a crossbow bolt thud into the ground barely a meter away from him.

He jumped, swallowing hard at the the sudden reminder that even with only partial control of the troll, Astaroth was a horribly deadly opponent. Gathering his legs under him, he sprinted for the Tunnel, shivering as the demon's scream of rage filtered down amid the crash of branches marking the end of the demon/troll's passage. Astaroth wouldn't be trapped for long, unfortunately—the troll's hands were strong enough by themselves to tear the net if there was no knife within easy reach.