Paul Kemp - Twilight Falling

The trackers could be nothing other than agents of Vraggen and the half-drow.

"I think not," Dreeve retorted. "None in Starmantle would dare follow this pack. They track you." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps we should leave you to them?"

The rest of the pack voiced agreement. Sensing a fight, they began to creep forward, growling and brandishing their axes. Beside and behind Cale, Riven and Jak spaced themselves and put hands to their weapons.

Bolstered by his men, Dreeve took another step forward and bent down to put his toothy muzzle right before Cale's face. His voice was a growl.

"You did not speak of pursuers, human. The danger is bigger now." His expression twisted with cunning and he added, "So too is my price. Or we leave you here."

Behind Dreeve, the rest of the gnolls growled agreement.

Riven scoffed and spat at Dreeve's feet. The gnoll spun on him and growled dangerously. Riven merely sneered.

Cale could barely keep the relief from his face. It was nothing more than a negotiating ploy. He hurriedly stepped between Riven and the gnoll. He didn't fear for Riven's safety, of course, but killing Dreeve would leave them without a guide to the Moonmere. Besides, Dreeve was behaving exactly as any good Sembian would-new facts required new negotiations. Cale could appreciate that. Still, he had to play it out to keep the new price within reason.

"We've already negotiated a price, Dreeve," he said, and he waited for the gnoll's predictable retort.

"This new information would have affected price," Dreeve growled.

Cale had to keep from smiling.

"A fair point," he acknowledged. For a time, he feigned deep consideration. "All right. Four hundred gold then. Our final offer. Well enough?"

Dreeve flashed his fangs in a smile, blew out a satisfied sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest. The rest of the gnolls too uttered a round of satisfied growls.

Dreeve turned from Cale and raised his voice for the benefit of his pack.

"And now we will deal with those who dare track us."

The rest of the pack barked enthusiastic agreement.

Cale didn't think it was Vraggen himself who was pursuing them, and that made the pursuers but a distraction. Cale could not afford a distraction. Vraggen had to be at the Moonmere already. He jerked Dreeve around by the shoulder.

"Ignore them," Cale ordered. "You're being paid to get us to the Moonmere. Nothing more. We don't have time to waste on whoever is tracking you."

Dreeve growled, "Tracking you, human. And none follow this pack and live, gold or no gold."

The rest of the gnolls snarled agreement and thumped their axe hafts in the earth.

Cale let his hand glide to his blade hilt. He spoke low enough that only Dreeve and Riven could hear him.

"Listen to me, you stinking son of a bitch. You've played your little game and gotten your price. Fine. We'll pay it. But if you push any further, I'll split you wide open out of spite. We do not have time to spare. You show us to the Moonmere and you do it now. Otherwise…."

He let the threat hang.

Dreeve's hackles rose; his ears flattened. His hands spasmed near his axe haft but didn't touch it. His breath came fast. Behind him, the other gnolls sensed his anger and they too began to snarl, low and dangerous.

Cale held both his ground and the gnoll's gaze.

"You'll be the first to die," Cale promised in a whisper. "Then the rest."

Cale's certainty seemed to take Dreeve aback. He stared at Cale for a moment, considering. Abruptly, his hackles sank and he took a deep breath.

Without releasing Cale' gaze, he called back to his pack, "Gez and Nurm, circle back, find the she-dogs chasing us, and kill them both. The rest of you, break camp. We take these humans to the Gulthmere and the Lightless Lake. Let the demons there have them."

The gnolls did as they were told.

"Well enough?" Dreeve asked Cale.

Cale turned his back on the gnoll guide without answering.

After Dreeve walked away, Riven chuckled.

"That's quite a bark, Cale," the assassin said, "but the time's coming with that one when you're going to have to bite."

Turning to look at Dreeve, and seeing the pent-up anger in the bunched muscles of the gnoll's back, Cale knew that Riven spoke the truth.

"Those two trackers aren't the mage," Riven said.

"Agreed," Cale said. "Vraggen's already at the Moonmere."

"The half-drow?" Jak asked.

"Perhaps," Cale said. "But at this point it doesn't matter."

He looked at the stars glowing in the moonless sky. He thought of taking the sphere from his pack and comparing it to the sky but decided against it. The sphere had become irrelevant. They knew where they were going and they knew when they had to be there.

"We need to get moving," Cale said. "We're almost out of time."

Gez smelled horseflesh in the wind-faint, but it was there. He knew the two human riders were less than quarter hour's run upwind and closing. Surprisingly, night hadn't stopped them from tracking the pack. Gez figured them both to be very skilled.

But, he reminded himself, they were but two, and mere humans at that.

He and Nurm had backtracked from the rest of the pack a little less than an hour before, if Gez was any judge of the stars' movements. Dreeve and the rest of the pack already would have reached the Gulthmere.

Thinking of Dreeve and the pack reminded Gez of the humans, and his lips peeled back in a silent snarl. The bald headed human mongrel had embarrassed Gez before his packmates. Gez would have to fight hard to maintain his status as Dreeve's second. Gez had no doubt that Dreeve had sent him on a cur's errand to make that very point. Likely, he would have to kill and eat the heart of one of his packmates just to reestablish his place.

For the tenth time, he wished Dreeve had killed the three humans back in the camp and taken their gold. Gez would have feasted on their flesh and lived high on their coin. The thought of what might have been brought a grin to his face. He licked his lips, imagining the taste of human flesh-

— and stopped.

Was that Nurm's scent in the wind? Yes, but…

What was that pup doing?

The two had split up a quarter hour before. Gez, too angry at his fallen fortunes to listen any longer to Nurm's incessant chatter, had sent the younger gnoll ahead to find an appropriate location from which to ambush the humans. Nurm should have been over ten spearcasts away, not nearby. Gez resolved then and there to vent his anger on the impudent pup.

He stood up to his full height and scanned the plains for Nurm. Even in the darkness he could see clearly as far out as a spearcast.

He saw nothing. Only the wind over the thigh-high grass. He let out a signal bark, a sharp, quick yip.

Nothing.

Only then did it hit him. The night was still-too still-as though a predator was nearby and on the hunt. Even the insects had fallen silent.

Gez's hackles rose and he uttered a growl so low that only another gnoll would hear it. He unslung his axe, dropped into a crouch, and put his nose in the breeze.

No predator, but Nurm smelled close, not far to Gez's left.

Gez crept forward, clutching his axe and prowling through the tall grass. His instincts told him that something big lurked nearby, something deadly. He moved as quietly as he could and kept his senses attuned to his surroundings.

He smelled it before he saw it-the sharp, coppery tang of blood, intermixed with Nurm's ordinary scent. Voicing a low snarl, he loped forward.

He found Nurm's body lying in an area of flattened, blood soaked grass. Gez kneeled and examined the corpse. Nurm's entire head had been bitten off. It was nowhere to be seen. Nurm's unslung axe lay on his shoulder. He hadn't even had time to get his weapon drawn.

Gez rose into a crouch, keeping his head below the grass line, and sniffed the wind. Nothing but the far off smell of the humans and the horses. Still, the plains were too quiet. Something was near.