Simon Hawke - The Seeker

Rovik was on his feet in an instant, grabbing up his crossbow. “What?” he called out, looking around anxiously.

“What is it?”

“Antloids!” Gorak said. “Coming this way!”

At Gorak’s first alarm, Torian jerked his head up, and the first thing he did was check his captives. As he turned to look at the princess, he saw the lizards swarming over the tree trunk and her bonds.

“Gith’s blood!” he swore, leaping to his feet.

In that moment, Ryana pulled free from her bonds, which the lizards had chewed through. Torian lunged at her, but she twisted away and kicked out with her leg as she rolled, sweeping his feet out from under him. As he went down, Torian heard Gorak’s agonized scream.

The first of the giant antloids had come barreling out of the darkness into the firelight, and Gorak only had enough time to loose one bolt from his crossbow. It bounced harmlessly off the creature’s thick exoskeleton, and then it was on him, closing its huge mandibles around his waist and lifting him high into the air. Gorak’s throat-rending screams echoed through the night as the rest of the antloids swarmed into the camp.

Rovik tried to run, but he knew it was hopeless. Only an elf could outrun a full-grown antloid. Four ot the creatures converged on him, and he disappeared, screaming, in a tangle of snapping mandibles. The kanks, panicked by the charging antloids, pulled out their stakes and escaped into the night. The antloids did not pursue them.

Torian regained his feet quickly after Ryana had tripped him up. He lunged for the princess, but Ryana made a dive and tackled him.

As he fell once more, Korahna came to her senses. The first thing she saw were the antloids swarming into the camp.

She brought her hands up to her face and screamed, not even realizing in her panic that her hands were free. Then she saw all the lizards swarming over the tree trunk behind her. Several of them were still clinging to her arms. She recoiled from the pagafa tree in horror, flailing with her arms to shake the creatures loose.

Torian wrestled with Ryana, kicking free of her grasp and rolling to his feet, but as he turned to the attack, three antloids lumbered toward him. He retreated, leaving Ryana to the creatures, not realizing they were advancing to protect her. He started to move toward the princess, but two more antloids cut him off. Korahna tried to run, but suddenly found herself surrounded by the huge creatures. She screamed again, but suddenly felt a hand clamp over her mouth.

A familiar voice at her shoulder said, “Do not be afraid. They will not harm you.”

She turned and saw Sorak and threw her arms around him, sobbing gratefully into his chest.

Torian retreated toward the fire, his head jerking to the left and right as he desperately sought an avenue escape. But there was nowhere to run. He was encircled by a ring of antloids. Yet, they did not move in for the kill.

They simply stood there in a large circle all around the campfire, surrounding him where he stood, their mandibles making ominous clicking sounds like large sticks being struck together. Only then did Torian realize his two mercenaries were dead.

He stood there, holding his useless obsidian sword before him, knowing it was a hopeless weapon to use against these creatures. And even if he could succeed in killing one, the others would tear him to pieces. So he stood and waited for the end.

Then, to his stunned surprise, one of the creatures scuttled slightly to one side, and Sorak came into the circle. Behind him were the princess and Ryana. The antloids made no move to harm them. In a flash, Torian understood that, somehow, the elfling could make the creatures do his bidding. Only then did he truly understand what he was up against, and he cursed himself for ever having trailed the elfling to begin with. He had followed his own death, pursuing it, and now it had caught him.

“Damn you for a sorcerer!” Torian swore, as he raised his sword defiantly.

“What good do you think that will do now?” said Sorak, gazing at the weapon.

“More good than you know,” Torian replied. “It will deny you the final victory.” And with that, he quickly turned the sword around, grasping it with both hands, and plunged it deep into his stomach.

Sorak was taken completely unprepared. He simply stared, astonished, as Torian grunted with pain and sank to his knees, transfixed by his own blade, blood bubbling forth between his lips. Ryana caught her breath and Korahna gasped as they both stared at the dying man.

Torian raised his head and gazed at the princess—“You were my undoing,” he said, forcing the words out. “You and my own .. . ambition. Had you but . . . accepted me ... I would not have mistreated you. But no . . . you were too good for me. I would have . . . made you a queen. And I. . . could have been ... a king. . .”

His eyes glazed over as the light of life left them, and he collapsed onto the ground. Slowly, the antloids dispersed, returning to their warren, leaving Sorak and the two women alone, standing by the fire, looking down at Torian’s corpse.

Sorak looked at Ryana. She smiled at him wearily. Then he turned to the princess and took her arm. “Come, Princess,” he said. “It is over now and there is time to rest. Tomorrow, we shall take you home.”

*****

From the heights of the foothills of the Barrier Mountains, the barrens stretched out toward the western horizon, a seemingly endless sea of broken rock. The three travelers stood on a promontory, a stone cliff extending like a ship’s prow over the desolate wasteland below. Behind them, trees dotted the slopes, growing thicker as the mountains rose.

It seemed almost like an alien environment now.

“Can we really have crossed all that?” Korahna said, looking out from the cliff as the sun slowly set behind them, causing the shadows of the mountains to lengthen on the ground below. It was the first time she seemed animated in three days.

The Ranger had tracked the soldier kanks Torian and his mercenaries had used, and Screech had called them, soothing the frightened creatures. He had given the beasts a chance to graze on the brush gathered by the mercenaries and, when they left the campsite the next morning, their steeds were fresh.

Now, near the end of their long journey, Korahna looked less like a princess than ever. Dressed in various items of apparel taken from the slain mercenaries, she bore a greater resemblance to a female brigand than a daughter of the Royal House of Nibenay. The too-large moccasins on her feet were now surmounted by a pair of hide breeches and a sleeveless tunic that had been cut by Sorak so that her waist was exposed. The bottom half of the tunic had been stained with blood and torn by mandibles. There was a wide sword belt at her waist, and Torian’s obsidian blade, which he had used to take his own life. She swore she would always value it for the service it had performed. She wore a brown, hooded cloak over her tunic, and her long blond hair, combed out with her fingers, no longer gleamed the way it had when she brushed it every night before retiring in her tent while with the caravan. Ryana thought, despite the haphazard nature of her costume, that it was nevertheless an improvement over the way she had looked before.

Ryana had held her sleeping form while they rode the kank, and Korahna had whimpered softly in her arms. Ryana had not awakened her. She would dream unpleasant dreams for a while, and it was best she get beyond it. Later, when it was Ryana’s turn to rest, the princess had said nothing, and during the next day and the following one as well, she had remained silent, brooding to herself. Now, finally, a trace of her old self... or perhaps it was a new self .. . made its appearance.