Paul Kemp - Twilight Falling

Moving quickly, Gez removed Nurm's belt purse, took his quiver of arrows, and wolfed down as much of his trail tack as he could. The pack didn't waste resources. Often, they ate their own fallen, but Gez didn't have time for that.

A rustling sounded in the grass near Nurm's corpse.

Gez uttered a surprised snarl and lunged forward, axe held high.

A field lizard darted out of the grass. About the size of a cat, the brown-spotted reptiles were common in those plains. Carrion eaters. It must have smelled Nurm's blood too and come to feed.

Gez let out a relieved series of yips. He toed Nurm's corpse toward the lizard.

"Feed well, little frie-"

A low croak sounded from behind him. His hackles rose instantly; his heart threatened to burst. He whirled around with his axe at the ready.

Terror froze him.

A horrible, bipedal, toadlike creature stood behind him, taller and broader than even Dreeve. A strange tingling flashed through Gez's brain, as though the creature was looking into his mind, knowing what he knew. He caught only a flash of warty green skin, claws, and merciless eyes before it pounced on him and knocked him to the ground near Nurm's corpse. Gez's breath blew from his lungs. His ribs snapped under the impact. He mouthed a silent scream of pain and fear.

Crouched atop his chest, the thing croaked something in a foul, alien tongue that Gez could not understand. It opened its mouth impossibly wide. A mouthful of shark teeth surrounded the black hole of its gullet. Gez wanted to scream, wanted to whimper, but with no air he could make no sound. Pain blurred his vision.

That horrible mouth descended for his head, engulfing it entirely. Teeth tore into the skin of his neck and snapped closed on his spine. Gez felt a flash of excruciating agony before his world ended in darkness.

Elura cracked the gnoll's skull between her back teeth, took the creature's head out of her mouth, and split the skull the rest of the way open with her claws. When the brain lay exposed in her hands, she slavered it up with her long tongue. She found them a creamy delight, especially when lightly spiced with the tart tang of fear. Since she and her broodmates' arrival, she had come to enjoy the brains of lesser sentient creatures.

After licking the skull case clean, she methodically removed the gnoll's weapons and earrings. She studied what remained of the gnoll's body. Satisfied that she had a reasonably close mental image of the creature, she invoked the magical ability of her kind to change shape. With a wet, squishing sound, her natural body metamorphosed into a smaller, thinner form-that of the gnoll. She put the gnoll's earring through her new ears, slung its axe over her shoulder, and smiled in satisfaction.

With Vraggen's "approval," Azriim had instructed she and Dolgan to remain behind and watch for Cale. Dolgan had remained in Starmantle. Elura had patrolled the approaches to the Gulthmere. Nothing was to interfere with Vraggen's opening of the Fane.

Elura smiled darkly when she thought of Vraggen. The arrogant shadow adept had no idea of how he had been used. When she imagined how his expression would appear when he learned of she and her broodmates' true purpose-of the Sojourner's true purpose-she could barely control her laughter.

But first matters firstly, she reminded herself.

Late the previous night, Dolgan had telepathically informed her of the gnoll pack. She had been surprised and distantly delighted to learn that Cale, Riven, and the halfling were among them. The humans' resourcefulness intrigued her, though it would not avail them. The threatened torture of Serrin had been a masterstroke. Most humans balked at such methods, but not those three. For an instant, she regretted that she would not once share Cale's bed before killing him. She always gave her human lovers a unique experience before showing them her true form and murdering them. She would have enjoyed providing such an experience to Cale. She also would have enjoyed hearing his screams as she flayed him alive.

But that is not to be, she thought with regret, for she and Dolgan would kill Cale that very night.

She had picked up the trail of the gnolls earlier in the night, and had waited for an opportunity to kill and take the form of one of the pack. Dolgan, she knew, was only a short distance away. He had learned of Cale's presence in Starmantle only after Cale and his comrades had left the city with the gnolls, but had ridden so hard after them that he was already near. Together, they could kill Cale, his comrades, and the pack.

With the telepathy bred in her and her broodmates by the Sojourner, she sent her mental voice over the plains to Dolgan.

Dolgan?

From somewhere to the north, Dolgan's mental voice answered, I am here, Elura. Less than two hours behind the gnolls.

I am in the form of the gnoll creature Gez, she said to him. I will return to the pack and tell them-tell Dreeve, she corrected, referencing the information that she had stolen from Gez's mind-that we have killed the trackers and that Nurm died in battle. Alert me when you are near. If I have not done so beforehand, upon your arrival, we will kill them all.

In the darkness, the towering cedars, pines, and elms at the edge of the Gulthmere looked as impenetrable to Cale as a siege wall. It looked … foreboding. Cale spared a glance skyward-the last time he would be able to see the stars after entering the tangle of the Gulthmere, he supposed. He wondered whether they would arrive at the Fane in time to stop Vraggen.

"We're in time," Jak said softly, as though reading his mind.

Cale nodded. He knew it wasn't yet midnight. Mask allowed him to know intuitively when that hour arrived. But he didn't think they had much more than a couple of hours.

Dreeve had recalled the perimeter scouts but Gez and Nurm had not yet returned. The remaining gnolls arranged themselves into two skirmish lines. With Cale, Jak, and Riven sandwiched between the lines, they entered the Gulthmere.

The fragrance of the pines hung thick in the air. Needles and deadwood crunched underfoot. The forest felt old.

Each step in created more and more tension in the gnoll pack. Cale could sense it, could see it in their furtive gazes, quickened respiration, and slightly raised hackles. They feared the Gulthmere. Or the Fane.

Their pace slowed markedly as the terrain forced them to pick their way through the undergrowth. Cale quickly lost his sense of direction, though he did feel the ground descending and growing softer as they progressed. He could see only two or three paces before him.

"Jak," Cale said. "Your wand. We need light."

Dreeve whirled on him and hissed, "No light, human! You will draw attention to us."

The rest of the pack softly growled alarmed agreement.

"We need to be able to see," Cale said. "This light is not visible from far off." He looked to Jak. "Little man."

Jak pulled out his bluelight wand and uttered, "Inil," the word in the halfling tongue for "light". The wand's tip emitted a soft, blue glow. Shadows danced at the edges of the wand's illumination.

"You see?" Cale said to Dreeve.

The gnoll captain grunted something in his own tongue that Cale felt certain was an expletive, then he turned on his heel and started off. They followed.

After a short time, the ground leveled off and the air began to feel strange: thick with moisture and something else, something oily.

"You feel that?" Jak asked Cale quietly.

Cale replied, "We're getting close."

Riven only grunted.

Cale called up to Dreeve, "How much farther?"

The gloom seemed to dull his voice. The shadows swallowed sound.

Dreeve said over his shoulder in a low hiss, obviously perturbed by Cale's loud call, "Another hour-"