Clayton Emery: Whispering woods

Raindrops stung his face, cold and hard. In seconds he was plastered head to toe, leather tunic and kilt glued flat like a second skin. Morven's salt-and-pepper curls lay flat on his head. Kem flicked water from his helmet rim. Elves glanced upward, fluted to one another, and minded their arrow fletching. The elvish captain sang at Greensleeves, the only one ignoring the rain. The girl only shook her head. As a simpleton, she'd established some rapport with the elves; now she couldn't communicate with them.

With the onslaught of rain and failing light, Gull couldn't see beyond thirty feet. The rain roared as it spattered and pattered off the monolith, but aside from that it was quiet.

Had Towser conjured the rain? Maybe to cover a retreat? Leaving them victors on the field of honor, as the old legends said? Gull could have laughed. How he'd loved the glorious stories of honor and valor, yet now that his day had come, he was hungry and tired and cold, with icy rain running from his hair down his back.

His thoughts-wandering, he knew-were interrupted. Liko suddenly roared a double battle cry and hefted his club. Through a curtain of rain, a gray dragon's head reared past a bramble wall, then another, and another.

Towser's six-headed rock hydra, finally conjured in whole. The beast that had chewed off Liko's arm.

So Towser wasn't quitting yet.

Morven whapped his shoulder, pointed up.

Rain spattering his eyes, Gull squinted. In semi-darkness, a striped form flitted across the sky.

Towser could fly?

If so, then he must be the one who'd A flash blinded Gull. Forked lightning split the stormy sky and shattered against the monolith.

When the lightning struck, Gull felt a shock like a slap on the soles of his feet, a burning as if his clogs had caught fire.

The sensation faded, leaving him tingly, cold, and drenched. He couldn't focus his eyes, and put out a questing hand. A craggy claw grabbed it and dragged him stumbling from the monolith. A crash of thunder almost threw him to his knees.

Someone pushed him down. Wet leaves curled around his ears. Blinking hot tears that mingled with cold raindrops, he gradually made out Greensleeves and Kem and Stiggur, all tucked close to the bramble wall. Morven chivied them deeper into cover.

The sky split again. Jagged spears of white light smashed the storm darkness. Splintered streaks of rain glowed on the monolith. Another crash of thunder rocked them.

"Lance of the Sea!" gasped the sailor. He sounded exhausted. "Look there!"

Gull squinted. Against a gray sky floated a blue cloud, like the smoke of a soggy campfire. The cloud lengthened, took the vague shape of a man with a pointed tail. When it balled two hand-shapes together, light crackled between them. The hands clapped and shook, like a dog shaking off water, and lightning streaked down, too fast to follow.

The bolt struck the clockwork beast with a dull shudder. Gull smelled burned rust and charred wood on the wet air. Dimly, he heard Morven lecturing Stiggur, "… why! Because iron attracts lightning! Iron on a ship will fair burn out'a the wood! If you hadn't come down-" A peal of thunder wiped out his words. "-monolith must have iron in it, 'cause it's sucking up the lightning and keeping us safe! Towser never considered that, the daft bugger!"

"But where is Towser?" Gull interrupted. "He can fly! You never told me that!"

Stiggur answered. Streaming-wet, he was blue-lipped and chatter-toothed. Greensleeves wrapped her dripping shawl around his shoulders. "He d-don't do it much. He can't f-fly like a proper bird, flapping his wings-arms. He j-just soars, like a-a g-gull."

But Gull wasn't listening. "If he can fly, that means…" People waited, and Gull's thoughts tumbled. "It must have been he who flew above our village, not Dacian, that black-haired female wizard. He felled our family, my mother, with that weakness spell that stilled her heart…"

Only hissing rain answered.

Sorrow choked Gull, stung like a knife wound. Along with a raging thirst for revenge, for Towser's blood.

But caution ruled too. And fear, for himself and his companions.

This wizards' duel-between Towser and Greensleeves-had brought things crashing around them, too fast to encompass, so they could only react like bugs in a bottle. Now Towser renewed the attack, distracting them with rain and lightning. The wizard was stubborn, Gull knew, and veteran of several wizard duels.

Though he couldn't see it, Gull sensed a trap about to spring. More than ever, the sense they had to get away washed him like chilly rain.

Fighting panic, Gull made a quick count of their resources.

The elvish archers lingered, still with arrows nocked. Yet their captain shook her head as she warbled at Greensleeves. They'd depart soon, Gull could tell. More felt than seen, Liko and the rock hydra battled beyond the brambles. Thumps and draggings and hard-struck blows sent tremors through the ground. Gull feared the giant would lose another arm, but Liko had been enraged, angrier than Gull had ever seen: maybe his rage would sustain him. He wished Liko well, for that was all he could do. They had but three fighters, an unpracticed wizard girl, a boy, a mechanical animal Lightning made them flinch. It struck the clockwork beast again, sending that scorched stink through the air. Stiggur bleated, "He'll kill my beast!"

"It ain't alive!" said Kem.

"It is! I know it!"

"Greenie," said her brother, "can you conjure somewhat to push that cloud-man away? Arrows won't do! We need to move, get away from this spot! Towser'll drop something right on our heads!"

"We should stay put!" Kem barked. In the semi-darkness, the scarred side of his face glowed like foxfire. "We're safe here, might not be elsewhere!"

"Don't argue! I know what I'm doing!"

"Since when does a woodcutter know about generaling?"

"Since when does an assassin?"

"You'll eat those words!"

"Makes me want to cry," put in Morven, "seeing you boys get along so nice. Warms the cockles of my old withered heart-"

Greensleeves murmured, "I th-think… I have…"

A flare like lightning lit the sky, but this brilliance lingered.

Once again, the nightmare rode the heavens.

The flaming horse billowed upward as from a green-brown cloud. It galloped from over the ocean, prancing on air. Gray body sleek as a seal's, fire trailed from its mane and tail and feet, flickering, guttering, but never quenching.

Gull thought that for such a horror, it was achingly beautiful. But then it made dreams, and dreams could be both beautiful and horrid at once.

"That's a girl!" he shouted. "It beat the djinn last time, smashed it like a rotten pumpkin!"

"That was at night!" Morven countered. "The sun ain't set yet! And this rain might douse its fire!"

"That's magic fire!" Kem argued. "It don't burn like wood! But that horse looks sickly!"

They had to agree. Colorful, the phantom yet looked filmy as a mist or rainbow, whereas the djinn looked solid as a thunderhead.

The nightmare whinnied, a high, piercing shriek like a saw binding in oak that set everyone's teeth on edge. As it closed, the blue-cloud djinn, swelled up, head ballooning, and blew. The blast of air-Gull heard its roar-stalled the nightmare's charge, bowled it across the sky. The horse's flame all but extinguished, and its body grew paler, more ethereal. It coasted a hundred yards before finding its feet. Again it laid flaming hooves against an invisible road, and charged, and again the djinn puffed, sending it asail across the dark sky.

"The horse-demon's licked," muttered Kem.

Gull wiped his axe handle, but couldn't dry it for blood and water. He gestured inland, called above the noise of rain and sky battle. "Let's move while there's no lightning! We need to see who's out there! If it's those blue barbarians, maybe the archers can drive 'em off! We can rush the wagons! They'd make good shelter and Towser won't destroy them-"