Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

"Kothas. Cuda, to be precise."

"A Blood Sea flag. The creatures are definitely not native to this island," Goldmoon agreed. "I've never seen their like in all my years on Krynn." She paused and examined the hyena-man from muzzle to clawed feet. "He's not dead. Not yet."

Gair's keen eyes narrowed, and he noticed with surprise that the hyena-man's blood-soaked chest faintly but irregularly rose and fell. Blood continued to seep from the deep gouges on the creature's stomach and chest, dyeing what was once a dun-colored tunic a deep scarlet.

"But he is dying," he observed.

"Yes." Goldmoon closed her eyes and reached inside herself, focused on her heartbeat, as she had taught Gair and Jasper and her other students to do, ignoring the elf's continued speculations about the creature. Her heartbeat was all she heard now as a comforting warmth rose in her chest and extended down her arms, made her fingers pleasantly tingle. She placed her palms on the creature's chest and coaxed that warmth to flow from her into him.

"What are you doing?" Gair stepped back, amazed. True, he wanted to question the creature, but he wouldn't have wasted his energy healing him. The creature was a monster, and if the tale Goldmoon heard was correct, he'd been killing Schallsea's trappers and therefore didn't deserve to live. He might even be the one who killed Harrald and the Solamnic knight. "Better to show him mercy with a swift stroke of my sword. His fellows certainly gave him no mercy. Monsters. We can find out about them another way, by speaking to this one's corpse. You could talk to it, just as you talk to Riverwind."

Goldmoon didn't reply. She couldn't hear him. She was listening only to her heart, and to the hyena-man's, which was growing stronger with each passing beat. A faint glow covered his chest, radiating out from her fingers. Pale gray like the sky, it intensified slightly above the deepest of the monster's wounds.

As Gair watched, the gouges started to close. The elf marveled at Goldmoon's ability. Healing magic was relatively easy for him, but he doubted that even his most potent spells could mend wounds this severe and this quickly. He made a mental note to press her for information about this nurturing glow she'd created. Perhaps it was how Jasper had healed him. He wanted to learn this advanced mysticism almost as much as he wanted to talk to the spirits of the dead.

The creature made a gurgling sound, coughing up blood and spittle. His eyes flew open and locked onto Goldmoon's, and he started to struggle, to push her away. Her eyes held his, and she used all her strength to keep her hands on his chest.

"Don't move," she said. Words could interrupt her spell. "Don't move." She said nothing else.

The hyena-man lay still, staring unblinkingly at Goldmoon, growling softly as the glow covered more of his body and healed more of his wounds. Several minutes passed, and the healer's breath became shallow and her shoulder's sagged. Just as the glow brightened, she pitched forward against the creature's chest. The glow disappeared.

Gair darted in to pull her back, keeping a wary eye on the creature. Her long tunic and leggings were covered with the monster's blood, and the ends of her hair were matted with it. Gair dabbed at a streak of blood on her cheek, then returned his attention to the creature. It lay still, regarding them.

When Goldmoon was breathing more deeply and regularly, Gair tugged her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

She nodded yes. "The creature will live."

The creature made a guttural barking noise, then repeated it and raised a hairy eyebrow.

"I think maybe he's talking to us," Goldmoon suggested.

"Well, unless you have some mystic enchantment that will let us learn his language, I think it's likely to be a one-sided conversation," Gair pointed out. "I don't speak hyena."

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

He growled a word.

"Orvago?"

He struggled to prop himself up on his elbows.

"Orvago?" she repeated. "Is your name Orvago?"

He nodded and his eyes narrowed warily.

"Well, Gair, it looks as if he understands us." Goldmoon was leaning against the elf for support, still weak from the powerful healing spell she'd invoked. "It appears you can talk to him after all."

The elf stared at the creature for several moments. Goldmoon took a step away from him. The blood on her tunic had soaked through to her skin, and the wetness was chilling her. Gair edged forward and squatted, eye-to-eye with the hyena-man. Where to begin? What questions first?

"What are you?"

The creature's gaze drifted back and forth between the elf and Goldmoon, resting longer on her.

Gair sighed and rocked back on his heels. "How did you get here?"

The creature nodded toward the boars.

"I can see that you followed the boars. That's not what I mean. Goldmoon, this is getting us nowhere. Maybe he can understand us. Maybe he can't. He's an animal, and a dangerous one, at that." The elf groaned and stood, paced in a tight circle, then whirled on the creature, who, still in some pain, was gingerly getting to his clawed feet. "Did you and your fellows attack us a few days ago? Have you hurt others? How did you get to the island? And where did you come from? How many of you?"

The creature cocked his head. A string of spittle edged over his lower lip and dripped to the ground.

Exasperated, Gair ran his fingers through his hair. He pivoted to face Goldmoon and gestured with his head toward her, concentrating to retain an even, polite tone. "She healed you, creature. She saved your life. Because Goldmoon saved your life, you should answer my questions."

The creature nodded toward Goldmoon, then brushed by the elf and slowly walked in the direction his companions had dragged the boars, limping on his leg that had been gored. A heartbeat later, he had disappeared into the trees.

Gair drew in a deep breath and shook his head. He stared into the woods, hoping to catch another glimpse of the creature. "We should go after him. He can't move very fast with that injured leg. We could force him to come with us, take him to town. The authorities there might get something out of him. Maybe we should-"

"Let him go?" Goldmoon's eyes gleamed, and her lips edged upward slightly, giving away her amusement. "Join me for breakfast?" She turned and started back toward the settlement. "I don't know about you, Gair, but I need to wash up and change clothes, and I'm hungry. No reason to stay out any longer and catch a cold, or worse. There's no reason for you to undo all of Jasper's hard work. I think I'm going to sit by a cookfire for a while and warm up. Perhaps I'll have a chat with our Solamnic visitors. Coming?"

Still flustered, he hurried to catch up. "I wanted to find out about that flag," he muttered softly to himself.

Gair padded silently through the woods, tracing roughly the same path that Goldmoon and he had followed early this morning. This time wisdom prevailed, and he wore a heavy coat that draped to his ankles and brushed the top of the snow. Dark green, it helped to conceal him among the trees, a shadow among shadows. Like the shirt and trousers he wore, it was relatively new and exquisitely made. Only his boots were well worn, kept because of their comfort. However, he made a mental note to buy another pair on his next trip to town and start breaking them in.

The elf had a significant cache of steel and gems, an inheritance from his family. And while he had given a more than generous amount of it to Goldmoon for her citadel and various other causes throughout the past several years, he still had plenty to indulge his pleasures-fine clothes and good food-for a long while, likely for the rest of his life.

As the woods became thicker, blocking out the early evening starlight, he focused on his heightened senses. His keen eyes separated the shadows so he could continue on his way without slowing his pace. The snow helped to brighten the area, reflecting the light of the stars and the moon where it penetrated gaps in the pine canopy. He mused that the stars sparkled like the lady knight's eyes. Gair found himself thinking of her again and wondering if he should be spending time with her rather than on this macabre errand. He admitted he was captivated by the face that had hovered over his when he was injured by the spears. Perhaps he would visit with her in the morning.