Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) (3 page)

“You alright up there?”
 

Looking over her shoulder at him, she caught a look of concern on his face which quickly fell away behind a curtain of weariness. He looked tired to the point of passing out. But she had to keep moving. Had to catch up. “I'm fine,” she grunted. “Stop fucking asking. It's pissing me off.”

“Everything pisses you off,” the warlock shot back.
 

She let it go. Ahead, the path wove between two hills. Formed from pebbles, shale, and shattered bones, they stood like guardians of the pass. In an age long past, they could have been barrows.

Could have just been natural hills, too. The elf didn't care.

But she'd been watching them for the past few minutes and did care that she couldn't see the path beyond. Couldn't see if Raste had left a few of his men behind to take care of her. She scratched at the palm of her hand and the corner of her mouth leaked cruelly upward toward the scar on her cheek.

As she led the warlock toward the gap, all the elf was expecting was an arrow in the teeth.

“Nysta?” Chukshene said behind her. “I've got a bad feeling-”
 

His words were cut by a hollow roar which exploded between the hills like an eruption of wind. She dropped into a fighter's stance,
A Flaw in the Glass
glowing in one fist. In the other, the blade called
Kindness
which she'd taken from the body of a wagoner who'd tried to bury it into her face. She could hear a rumble. Followed by another.
 

Another.

And, with horror rising like frozen mist from her belly, she realised it was the footsteps of something big.

And then she heard the chains.

The warlock's hand fisted around the back of her jacket as he lurched sideways, pulling her toward the closest trench scarring the earth. At first she resisted, but then caught the look of terror in his eyes as he hissed; “Move it, Long-ear. Trust me, you don't want to fuck with it. I know. I've seen it! And if I see it again, I'll shit myself. Please. Just fucking hide this time!”

He dove into the trench, gulping air as he rolled down on a landslide of shale. She followed with no greater balance and ended up flat on her back with his leg under her ass. Water from a stagnant shallow pool seeped through her jacket and she shivered. The cold was so sharp it was like being scratched with glass.

Making to roll away, she blinked in surprise as the warlock clapped a hand over her face and held her firmly still.

Furious, she lifted her hand to his. Intended to tear it free. Maybe break a few fingers off in the process. But he pressed hard against her and it was the terrified look in his wide eyes which stopped her.

“Don't move,” he breathed. “Please, Nysta. Kill me later. But don't move now. Trust me this once.”
 

It moved slowly, step by ragged step. Dragging chains behind it as though they weighed more than a mountain. And, by the sound of them, she figured they probably did.

Yet, despite the aching slowness of each step, it didn't take long for the creature to be close enough to hear its heaving breaths.

The elf battled horror and curiosity. She wanted nothing more than to scramble to the top of the trench to get a look at it. Yet, she could feel the trembling mage beside her and knew if he was so afraid of the creature, then it must be something truly terrifying. Because, for all his apparent cowardice, she knew not much truly frightened a spellslinger.

And even a warlock could deal with one beast, no matter its size.

So she stayed frozen, feeling the water spread across her back like a layer of ice.

Only the warlock's hand, still covering her mouth, kept her from crying out in surprise as something moved under her. Too soon since the crawling feeling of Gaket's tendrils sliding into her flesh. She drowned in frantic thoughts of worms chewing through flesh, feeling panic rise like bile in the back of her throat.

The next thundering step shocked all thought of insects away. Followed fast by a shriek of metal across stone as several lengths of chain as thick as her wrist swept along the lip of the trench in which they were hiding. Shale rained down in a frightened clatter. The warlock squeezed his eyes shut even as the elf's widened at the sight of the thick rusted metal sweeping overhead.

Bitter fumes of magic tore through the trench. So acidic her eyes watered.

Heart pumping hard, the elf struggled with the conflict of fear and the fires of rage which continued to burn inside. Could taste the need to kill like metal shavings between her teeth and imagined
A Flaw in the Glass
humming in its sheath as it too thirsted for blood. But each hulking step from the monstrous creature kept her warring emotions from reaching a violent agreement.
 

The creature let out another roar, soaking the air in a terrible viscous howl. The wet sound echoed among the deep trenches and shook the ground.

It echoed, the roar bouncing off the hills.

Then, a whispering sound as though the air itself was breathing. Followed by a grinding crunch which made the ground shake in distress.

And then silence.

Only the sound of Chukshene's ragged breathing reached her ears.

“Get off me,” she breathed.
 

“Quiet,” he pawed at her, trying to keep her still. “It's still there.”
 

“I said get off me!” She shoved him hard, lurching to her feet and slapping at the back of her neck. Her shoulder. Feeling icy water and sludge clinging to her jacket and skin. No insects. Just her imagination running wild on a greasy river of fear.
 

The warlock fell back on his ass and looked up at her in shock, confusion and terror. The three expressions slicing his face into a cartoon mask. “What-”

She struggled irritably up the side of the shale trench, sending stone skittering into the trench behind her. Winced as her fingers caught between a few heavier rocks, but finally made the top. Looked over the lip and grunted. “It's gone.”

“Gone? How can it be gone? It was right there!”
 

“I don't fucking know,” she growled, hauling herself out. “But it is.”
 

“Impossible!” He scrambled after her, losing his footing more than once. When he reached the top, he staggered over to where the tracks came to an abrupt end.
 

Nysta crouched on the path, eyes scanning the long rolling hills and ugly cracks in the earth.
Controversial to the End
held in her left hand. The thin throwing blade wasn't too sharp, but she had no doubt it could still give the creature a headache should it suddenly reappear.
 

Her back itched.

Using the tip of the blade, she carefully scratched between her shoulders as she watched the warlock prod the earth where a large scorched circle still smoked. He got down on his knees and sniffed.

She twisted her mouth into a crooked smile. “Gonna lick it now, 'lock?”

“I might.” He dusted off his hands and got to his feet. Frowned. “I saw this thing last night, too. Big fucker. I guessed it was attracted to the burning town like everything else. It killed and ate a troll, a couple of wolves, and about a dozen bandits. Those chains it carried? They tore everything apart. Wasn't a pretty thing to see. It's powerful, Nysta. More powerful than I am. I really don't think there's anything I have in this grimoire which could bring it down.”
 

“Can't be a good one, then,” she snorted with a nod at his spellbook.
 

“Actually, it's one of the best.”
 

The elf sheathed
Controversial to the End
. “Where'd you think it got to?”
 

“Could be anywhere,” he said. “Looks like it can go wherever it wants. Not sure how, though. I've never heard of any magic that could move you around like that. It's a terrifying thought. Thing like that able to skip about with such ease? Imagine if it wanted to pop into the nearest city for lunch. Way this thing eats, it could depopulate Doom's Reach in an afternoon. Not sure if that's a bad thing or not. My wife's family lives there. I ever tell you about them? My mother-in-law has a head like a pumpkin peeled with a fork. And the tongue of a viper. You know, now I think of it, I wouldn't mind giving it directions. Can't stand Doom's Reach. Shit of a place.”
 

“Reckon it could appear as quick as it disappears?”
 

“Probably.”
 

She looked down at her feet as though half-expecting it to rise from the earth. “That could be fun.”

“If that's your idea of fun, maybe you should go to the capital, too. You'd fit right in.” The warlock rubbed at his eyes and yawned. Sighed. “You do know we're never going to catch them now? They're on horseback. We're on foot. We both need rest. Me probably more than you right now. But you can't move fast with or without me.”
 

She knew he was right.

Knew the chances of catching Raste were getting slimmer by the second.

But knew she had to try.

“Then we'll head off the path. Take a straight line.”
 

“What? Are you mad?” He blinked. Looked out across the shattered landscape and its promise of a gruelling and painful death. “Yes. Of course you are. What am I asking? You're batshit lunatic fucking insane. And I'm obviously losing my mind just staying with you. I mean, did I hear you right? You want to cross
that
?”
 

“The path can take days to reach Grimwood Creek,” she said. “But if you've got horses, then there ain't no choice but to stick to it. It swings wide to the west. And there's some places where bandits plan ambushes. That'll keep them busy, too. But if we take the more direct route, we could beat them. Might get enough time to set something up. Who knows? I might bag them all in one place. Finally end this. It's a chance, Chukshene. And right now it's the only chance I've got, so I'm taking it. With or without you.”
 

“Mad,” he muttered. “Fucking twisted in the head. Mug short of a beer. Grim's mouldy balls, Nysta. I mean, do you even know what could be out there hiding in the muck?”
 

“Draug,” she said. “But they mostly come out at night. Mostly.”
 

“Mostly?”
 

“Their minds are alien to us, Chukshene. So it's the best guess I've got. Could also be wolves. Goblin gangs. A few trolls. Stray ogre.” She jerked her thumb toward the scorched circle. “And our friend with the chains.”
 

“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
 

“Up to you, 'lock.” She rolled her shoulders and spat onto the stones between her feet. Her head felt strangely clear and the aches and pains making her nerves twitch felt less painful. She started to walk, straight south. Would soon leave the path well behind. “You're in charge of your own life.”
 

“You know, it's no wonder you like it out here.” Irritation made his voice tremble as he called to her from where he remained rooted to the path. “You're as cold as the fucking stones you're walking on!”
 

The elf's eyes slid across the deep trenches carved into the shale. Half-turned her head to glance at the warlock through the corner of her eye and drawled; “Reckon I'm just as cracked, 'lock?”

“Go on. Make a joke of it,” he growled, stomping after her. Shale crackled underfoot. Stifled a yawn with a frustrated scowl. “But would it hurt to think about someone other than yourself for a fucking minute? It'd sure make it a little easier for me to help you out of these messes you keep getting us into.”
 

“Could be right, Chukshene.” Shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. Scanned the uncertain terrain in front of her. Looking for any sign the ground might give way under her next step. Kept her voice even. “But look around. This used to be a bunch of mountains. So big they touched the sky, it's said. Grim and Rule pulled them down to make room for their armies to fight on. This stone is the splinters of those mountains. But look hard enough, and I reckon you'll find more than rocks under your feet. And there ain't a drop of water in this place that wasn't red with blood. A lot of soldiers died here. More than you'll ever see. Was worse here than the rest of the Deadlands, because not too far south lies the original border. Before the Fnords retreated up beyond the Great Wall.”
 

“So?”
 

“So nice words never turned the heat up around here,” the elf's violet eyes glittered. “Takes killing to warm a heart of stone.”
 

CHAPTER FOUR

Avoiding the high price demanded by the fragile terrain soon proved tougher than the elf had expected and the slow pace began to grate on her nerves. By mid-afternoon, the warlock had paid his share of blood as the ground fell away beneath his feet.

Sucked into a deep trench, he was up to his armpits in an avalanche of shale and rubble before the elf had time to move. Working him free took the best part of an hour. An hour of sweat, patience, and a lot of cursing to gods both dead and alive.

As soon as he was out of the hole and panting in relief, the elf spun away. Picked her way southward without a word.

Chukshene lay on his side for a moment and watched each careful step she took. Then rolled his eyes and climbed awkwardly to his feet. Groaned as he noticed the fresh blood glistening wet on his robes.

Some of it hers.

Like an undead creature, he followed. Dragging his feet and stumbling under the weight of an invisible burden. Eyes barely open.

The elf called Nysta seemed outwardly oblivious to the warlock. That she didn't even know where he was. But at any moment she could have spun and thrown a dagger into his head with her eyes closed.

When digging him free, she'd wondered many times why she didn't just leave him.

He was slowing her down. Despite what he'd said, she could move faster without him. Knew she had to move quickly or risk losing Raste.