Don Bassinghtwaite - The Binding Stone

The grass of the hillside had been crushed down in a wide patch. The round dung balls of three horses were clustered in neat piles nearby and the summer grass cropped in patches. Ashi rose and walked back to where Ner, Breff, and Hruucan were waiting for her. Ner had squatting down and was tapping the hilt of his sword against his chin in thought. Breff was inspecting the bloody bandage that covered the wolf bite sunk deep into his right calf. Hruucan, once again shrouded in his cloak and cowl, simply stood still. The dolgaunt moved awkwardly and the stench of charred flesh clung to him. The wizard had burned him more badly than he would admit. Ashi looked away from him as she made her report. "They stopped for a time. They rested, but they're staying on the move." She pointed. "Their trail turns on the slope of the hill. I think they're heading toward Yrlag." "When were they here?" asked Ner.

Ashi glanced at the sun. It stood just past its zenith, baking the hillside in warmth. "Midmorning," she estimated.

"A quarter of a day," Hruucan rasped at Ner. "And drawing further away all the time." He gestured toward the trees in the bottom of the valley where the other hunters waited with the dolgrims. "Less than a third of your surviving hunters would be able to keep pace, let alone catch them!"

Ashi drew breath and glared at the dolgaunt in spite of herself. "More than half of the children of Khyber under your command didn't walk off the battlefield at all." She bit her tongue as Hruucan's cowled head swung toward her.

"Ashi's anger leads her, Hand of the Revered," said Ner swiftly. The huntmaster looked up at her. "If we rest now, Ashi, how many hunters will still be fit for the pursuit?"

Behind Ner, Breff held up five fingers. Ashi looked back to the huntmaster. "Four," she said.

Breff scowled. "Five!"

Ner reached out with his sword and tapped the flat of the scabbard against Breff's injured calf. The hunter yelped and hopped awkwardly. "Four," Ner repeated. He looked back to Ashi. "Who?"

"Mukur, Sita, Pado, and me," she said. She flicked her tongue across the rings in her lip hesitantly, then added, "Even if we can catch her, though, Ner, we'd need surprise and luck to take them. They're good fighters. You faced the shifter yourself."

Ner scowled and tapped his sword against his chin once more. Hruucan's grating voice broke the silence. "Dah'mir needs to be told, Ner. You must contact Medala."

For a long moment, none of the hunters moved, then Ner shifted one arm, and reached into the pouch on his hip. His hand emerged with the glittering band of copper wire and crystals that Dah'mir had given to him. He held out his sword to Ashi. She took it and stepped back as the huntmaster rose, spread the band wide, and pulled it over the top of his head. The crystals caught the sunlight and scattered bright flashes across the hillside. Ner turned to face in the direction of the Shadow Marches and the distant ancestor mound.

"Medala!" he said loudly. "Ner calls you!" He waited a moment, then said again. "Medala! Ner calls-"

His voice fell silent as a blankness washed across his face. Ashi shifted uncomfortably. In the month of their pursuit, Ner had used Dah'mir's device only a few times. Each time it had been like this. Ner had told her that it was like dreaming, that he had no awareness of his body while he spoke with the outclanner woman. He simply heard her in his head and replied to her by thinking his response. Sometimes, he had said, her manner was rough, wrenching the thoughts from his head before they were fully formed.

The communication never seemed to last long-after only a few moments, awareness would return to Ner's expression and he would pull the crystal device from his head as quickly as he could. Ashi waited.

Except that instead of easing with awareness, Ner's face drew tight in pain. His body tensed. Breff gasped out her name in alarm. Ashi froze, uncertain of what to do.

Then Ner's mouth moved and he spoke. "Hruucan!"

The voice that came from Ner's mouth sounded like the old hunter's, but Ashi knew that it wasn't his. The tones were clipped and sharp and the huntmaster had never in a month called the dolgaunt by his name. The words that emerged from Ner's mouth, she recognized in her gut, belonged to Medala. The outclanner was speaking through Ner.

Hruucan reacted without surprise. "I'm here, Medala."

"Failure is written in this fool's mind. Dah'mir is disappointed."

Ashi's mouth went dry. Even Hruucan looked slightly distressed. "Medala-" the dolgaunt began.

Medala cut him off. "The Bonetree hunters will do no good hobbling in pursuit of an enemy. Dah'mir commands you to bring them back to the ancestor mound, Hruucan."

The dolgaunt relaxed visibly. Ashi, however, exchanged a look of shock with Breff. Gathering her courage, she looked into Ner's blank face. "But what about Ner, Medala? He's our huntmaster!"

"Is that Ashi?" snapped Medala without answering her protest. "Dah'mir has instructions for you as well. You are the best of the surviving hunters-he places the pursuit in your hands. Follow wherever your quarry goes. Be stealthy. If the opportunity presents itself, you may kill the shifter and the wizard. Your quarry is all that's important. Take the crystal band when I am finished. Use it more often than Ner has. When it is possible, help will be sent to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ashi said automatically, then added quickly, "No. Why is Hruucan being placed over Ner, Medala?" There was no response. "Medala?" she asked, stepping closer to Ner.

The huntmaster's eyes rolled back. A thin gurgle broke out of his throat and before Ashi could even reach for him, he collapsed. Ashi stared down as a trickle of blood came dribbling out of his nose. His eyes stared directly up at the sun.

"Ner?" she whispered.

Hruucan tilted back his cowl to stare at her. She caught a glimpse of the burned, dead skin of his face. "Ner failed Dah'mir and the Dragon Below," the dolgaunt said harshly. "You have your instructions. Take the web."

Ashi bent woodenly and tugged the band from Ner's head. The light that flashed from the crystals seemed cold. Handling it as little as possible, she reached down and stuffed it into Ner's hip pouch, then tugged the pouch off of his body. She met Breff's gaze again as she stood. His eyes were wide. "Su Darasvhir," he said in stunned voice.

For the Dragon Below.

"The trail grows cold," said Hruucan. "Do you need any supplies?"

"No," grunted Ashi. "I have everything I need." Her hand tightened on Ner's sword.

Yrlag lay along the south bank of the Grithic River, a deep, cold waterway that marked the border between the Eldeen Reaches and the Shadow Marches. In actual truth, there was little to distinguish one region from the other-low, harsh scrubland rolled across either side of the Grithic, wild and ungoverned. The only reason that Yrlag existed at all was trade. The wilds of the Eldeen, the uplands of the Shadow Marches, and even the barrens of Droaam came together along the Grithic. The river was the gateway to Crescent Bay and the sea coast. With no other cities easily accessible, traders and outlaws of every race and morality passed through the town, exchanging the goods of the wilderness hinterlands for the luxuries of the wider world.

Geth had seen a lot of tough towns in the years he had served with the Blademarks of House Deneith. He had seen more in the years between Narath and his return to the Eldeen. Almost none were as tough and dangerous as Yrlag. Dandra, Singe, and he rode across the decrepit bridge that spanned the Grithic in the company of a mixed band of mangy gnolls and smelly humans. Bandits without a doubt. Dandra stared at them. Singe kept one eye on them. Geth rode in relaxed calm. The band looked like they were returning from whatever raid had taken them into the Eldeen. They were in a good mood and on their way into Yrlag to sell their stolen plunder. There was nothing to fear from them at the moment.