Simon Hawke - The Seeker

“He was not yet the Sage when he was the Wanderer,” Ryana reminded him. “And now that he is the Sage, he cannot go himself. The pyreen told you that this quest would not be easy. You seek the Sage to ask a boon and find direction for your life. Well, something gained for nothing is worth exactly what it cost to gain. In any case, before we can think of Bodach and its armies of undead, we must first leave the city safely and reach the village of Salt View. What sort of place is that?”

“The Wanderer describes it as a village of former slaves who now live as raiders and gypsy entertainers. It is governed by a mul who was once a gladiator, and the marauders we have met before make their camp not far from there. Doubtless, they use the village as a base of supply and a place of recreation. In other words, we can expect to find no friends there.”

“We should find one in the druid,” said Ryana. “Do not be discouraged, Sorak. We embarked on this quest together, and we shall see it through together. You have lived in ignorance of your past for all your life. Surely, you did not expect to find all the answers in a few short weeks?”

He sighed. “I suppose not. It is just that I had hoped. . . . Well, it makes no difference. I chose this path, now I must walk it.”

“We chose this path,” she said.

He looked and her and smiled. “Yes, we did—Together. Forgive me, little sister. And thank you for your strength.”

“You are forgiven,” she said. “And you are welcome—Now let’s get out of this miserable place. The lantern burns low, and I have no wish to stumble around down here in the dark.”

They made their way back down the tunnel and found the branching point the wizard had told them about. They turned down it and walked along a short corridor before they came to a flight of stone steps. At the end of the steps they reached only a brick wall.

“Now what?” said Sorak.

“There must be a door somewhere,” said Ryana.

After searching for a few moments by the dim, flickering glow of the lantern, she finally found an iron ring set into the wall to their left. As the lantern flickered out, she pulled it. The ring did not give on the first try, but on the second, when she put more strength into it, it pulled out of the wall slightly, and there was a grating sound as the wall swung open. It was a concealed door, pivoting around a central rod that ran through it. It opened out into a wooden storage shed, built against the back wall of the tavern. They cautiously opened the door of the shed and peered outside. The way seemed clear. They stepped out into the alley and breathed the fresh night air.

Almost at the same moment, they heard the solid tramping of feet, a tread far heavier than that of humans, and they flattened themselves against the wall as a squad of half-giants trooped past the mouth of the alley. They were carrying huge agafari war clubs as they marched with great strides around the corner toward the entrance to the Elven Blade.

“The wizard was right,” said Sorak. “Doubtless, they have come to look for us.”

“Then it would be in our best interests to get else-where,” said Ryana, “and with all haste.”

They ran toward the mouth of the alley and cautiously looked out from the shadows. The street seemed clear. But as they moved out of the alley and quickly started walking back toward the center of the city someone behind them yelled out, “There they go! Look! There they are! There!”

They glanced over their shoulders and saw someone standing in the entrance of the tavern, pointing in their direction.

Almost immediately, several half-giants came running out past him, into the street.

“Why can’t these good citizens of Nibenay mind their own cursed business, as they do in Tyr?” said Sorak through gritted teeth, as they turned and ran. Behind them, the half-giants thundered on their trail. They could not run as quickly, but their huge strides ate up a lot more ground.

“This way, hurry!” Sorak said as they darted down a dark alley. They ran to the opposite end and into the side street, but could hear the bellowing half-giants still in pursuit—and getting closer. It sounded as if Sorak and Ryana were being chased by a lumbering stampede of mekillots.

“We cannot outrun them!” said Ryana. “They can cover more ground with one stride than we can with three, and they know this city, while we are already lost!”

“Then we shall have to see what we can do to discourage their pursuit,” said Sorak. “In here!”

They ducked into a building entry way and pressed themselves against the doors as the half-giants thundered toward them. Ryana fitted a bolt to her crossbow The half-giants ran past their place of concealment, and she raised the crossbow and took aim.

Suddenly, the looming guards halted. “They did not come this way!” one of them called out. “They must have doubled back!”

Ryana fired. The bolt hissed through the air and struck one of the half-giants in the back of the neck, at the base of his skull. With a bellowing cry, he raised his hands up to the arrow and fell crashing to the street. Ryana was already lifting her bow for a second shot as the half-giants turned back toward them. Her second bolt struck home, hitting one of them between the eyes, and he fell dead in his tracks. Several of the others tripped over him as he went down, and they all crashed down in a tangled heap.

“Now!” said Sorak, and they ran once again, back the way they had come.

There had been slightly fewer than a dozen half-giants chasing them, and now that two of them were slain, the rest were totally enraged. Lights were going on in the windows up above them as people brought candles and lanterns to see what all the racket was about. As Sorak and Ryana ducked from one winding street into another, some of these citizens were obliging enough to call down to the half-giant guard and point out the way they went.

“Do you know which way we’re going?” Ryana asked, breathing hard as they ran.

“No. Do you?”

“We have gone up and down so many streets, I have lost track.”

“We must be getting somewhere,” Sorak said. hey turned a corner and found themselves on a lane that somehow looked familiar. And then, a moment later, they saw why. Almost directly across the street from where they stood was the entrance to the Elven Blade.

“Oh, great!” Ryana said. “We have come right back to where we started from!”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least we know where we are now,” Sorak said.

They could hear the half-giants coming up behind them.

“This way,” Sorak said, pointing back the way they had first come when Korahna brought them to the tavern. But they had not run halfway down the street when they saw another troop of half-giant guards come round the corner, led by one of the Shadow King’s own templars.

“Those two!” she called out as they skidded to a halt in the center of the street. “Stop them!”

They turned around to run back the other way, but before they could run three paces, they saw their original pursuers come thundering around the corner. They were cut off, hemmed in on both sides.

“We’re trapped!” said Ryana, looking both ways.

“I was getting tired of running anyway,” said Sorak, drawing Galdra. Ryana fired one more bolt, dropping another half-giant in his tracks, then quickly slung her bow across her back and drew her own sword. They took up position in the center of the street, back to back, each holding a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

The half-giants came at them from both sides, bellowing as they charged. The first one to reach Sorak raised his agafari war club and brought it down in vicious swipe. Sorak parried the blow with Galdra, and the war club was split cleanly in two. He swung his sword again, and the half-giant recoiled, but not quickly enough. Galdra opened up his stomach from side to side, and as the half-giant screamed, his guts came tumbling out into the street.