Don Bassingthwaite - The Binding Stone

With a bellow of pure animal rage, Geth surged out of the night and leaped onto the hunter like a beast. His gauntleted hand seized the handle of the axe above the hunter’s grip and wrenched it back so hard that Singe heard the man’s thick wrists snap. In the same movement, he jammed his sword vertically into the hunter’s belly and all the way up under his breast bone. Blood burst out of the warrior’s mouth.

Geth’s weight carried his body to the ground, but the shifter rolled free and groped for Adolan. “Ado! Ado!”

The druid was still on his knees, still staring up into the night. Blood trickled through his red-brown beard. At the shifter’s desperate touch, though, his eyes seemed to clear. His mouth moved, shaping words that emerged as a froth of blood. His hand fumbled toward the collar of polished black stones around his neck-

— then fell away as his body shuddered. Somewhere in the sky above, Breek screamed. A moment later, Geth roared at the night.

A sound like an avalanche brought Singe’s head up. Out on the common, the elemental that Adolan had summoned from the Bull Hole was falling apart in midstride, the earth and stones that had formed its body tumbling to the ground. The dolgrims it had been pursuing stopped and stared-then advanced cautiously to prod the heaped stone with their weapons. Singe swung around to stare past the scorched circle of his spell. A few human bodies lay within the blackened ring, but not nearly enough to account for all the Bonetree hunters. In the shadows beyond, he could make out figures emerging from the trees and picking themselves up from the ground.

“Moons!” he cursed. He leaped down from the barricade and dashed to Dandra. The kalashtar seemed frozen, watching Geth as he held Adolan’s body, his forehead touching the druid’s. Singe caught her arm. “They’re regrouping!”

She started and whirled around, picking out exactly what he had. Their enemies were gathering themselves for a new attack. “Il-Yannah,” she breathed. There was an edge of terror to her voice. “Will they never stop?”

“We need to find somewhere defensible,” Singe told her. “Somewhere we can put our backs to a wall-”

“No,” said Geth.

Singe spun back to the shifter. He was standing, Adolan’s collar of stones around his neck. The druid lay at his feet. A line of dirt had been traced down his pain-twisted face. Geth’s face was smudged with dirt as well. Beneath it, the shifter’s features were hard with barely restrained emotion.

“We aren’t staying here,” he said. He bent and ripped his sword out of the Bonetree hunter’s corpse. His eyes swept around the ruins of Bull Hollow. Singe followed his gaze and realized that there wasn’t a living inhabitant of the hamlet left on the common. Dol Arrah, he prayed, let them be safe in the woods!

Geth strode toward him and Dandra. “You said before,” the shifter asked Dandra, “that if you fled, the hunter and the dolgrims would follow you. Do you think they still will?”

Dandra nodded. “Yes. More than ever.”

“Good. We’re leading them away from here. All of us.” He gestured with his armored hand toward still-closed doors of the stable. “Singe, get horses-battle measures.”

The old words of the Frostbrand. Instinct pushed Singe to obey before he even fully understood what Geth was proposing. Understanding came as he fumbled at the stable doors.

Battle measures-act quickly, take the best, deal only with the necessary. They would use Dandra as bait to lead their vile enemies away from Bull Hollow, to give any survivors a better chance to hide.

He glanced at Toller’s body behind the barricade, killed by the dolgaunt while defending a place and people he didn’t know. His jaw tightened.

He pulled open the door of the stable. Inside, the building echoed with the cries of panicked horses. An everbright lantern hung beside the door. He took it and lowered the shade to expose the light within, then made his way down the center aisle of the stables.

His own horse, battle-trained, was waiting quietly. He saddled the animal with a speed born from long practice, then turned to Toller’s horse, trained like his own, and a spirited-looking mare. Unused to strange hands, only the mare gave him trouble.

“Singe!” called Geth from outside. “We need those horses!”

“Almost ready!” he called back. He got a bit into the mare’s mouth, then released his horse and Toller’s before backing the mare out of her stall.

Outside, the hunters and the dolgrims were still sorting themselves out. A shout went up, though, as an alert hunter spotted the horses. Their enemies began to close, warily this time.

Geth took the mare’s reins and nodded at the lantern in Singe’s hand. “Keep it open,” he said. “We want them to follow us.” He swung into the mare’s saddle. Singe climbed onto his horse, then held Toller’s steady as Dandra scrambled awkwardly into the saddle. Geth watched her with an unpitying eye. “Hold tight and stay low,” he advised her. “Now follow me!”

With a tight shout and a kick at his mount’s sides, he galloped straight at the clustered Bonetree hunters. Singe darted a glance at Dandra. She nodded grimly-then raised her voice in a fierce, rippling cry. “Adar! Adar! Bhintava adarani!”

Toller’s eager horse needed no other urging. It sprang after Geth instantly. “Deneith!” called Singe, pushing his horse into a gallop, too.

Geth’s roar was less prosaic. “Follow us, you murdering bastards!” he screamed as he raced by the hunters, then pulled his horse around to flash past the dolgrims as well. “Follow us!” He plunged his horse into the forest along a path that Singe could barely see. Dandra, her voice shaking, vanished after him.

Singe turned in his saddle, waving the everbright lantern to be sure the hunters and the dolgrims had seen it. They had-they were charging across the battle-scarred common in a stream. Singe gave the fiery, bloody remains of Bull Hollow one last look, then turned back to bend low over his horse’s neck.

Dawn’s golden light found them riding across the bare slope of a hill. Dandra felt it wash over her back, warming her night-cooled skin. There were more hills around them, all blanketed in long grass and thorny-looking bushes. Further down the slope, thicker trees grew in abundance. If they’d ridden among them, they would have had cover from their pursuers. Dandra didn’t need to ask why they weren’t riding in the trees. She knew the answer.

Geth wanted to be sure they were seen.

Dandra clung to her horse in exhaustion. All of her reserves-physical and mental-were devoted to hanging on to the animal. Her arms ached and her legs burned. Her backside was so sore she was certain that she’d never walk upright again.

At least she would walk again. A vision of Bull Hollow flickered in front of her eyes. Burning houses, screaming people, silent bodies. Adolan, dead in Geth’s arms. The same vision had haunted her all night. A community had been destroyed because of her brief presence.

She raised her head look at Geth’s back. The shifter rode in front of her, guiding his horse with a light touch. He had held them to the same pace all night after their initial galloping flight from Bull Hollow-just fast enough to stay ahead of runners on foot, easy enough that the horses didn’t tire too much. He sat stiffly upright, constantly alert. He hadn’t looked at her or spoken a single word through all their long ride.

Singe was behind her. The wizard hadn’t spoken either, but she could feel his gaze on her back. It made her want to wither up in shame.

Survival is nothing to be ashamed of , Tetkashtai said. It’s why you’re here at all . The long, dark hours of the night and the knowledge that they were once more fleeing the Bonetree hunters rather than standing against them had finally calmed the presence. She was rational again-if not entirely forgiving. Her yellow-green light pulsed righteously. If you’d listened to me and left when I told you to, none of this would have happened .