Shadow of a Dark Queen (57 page)

Praji shrugged. “We're here and they're Gilani. They don't like anyone who isn't Gilani, and we're about to enter the grasslands. That's their range and they're trying to tell us to keep off.”

“How'd the damn grass get so tall this time of year?” asked Greylock.

Vaja said, “There are some that grow in the winter and others in the summer, and they are all mixed in down there, is my guess.”

Putting aside his frustration, Greylock asked, “Is there another way out of these mountains?”

Praji shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Even if I knew exactly where we were, I've never traveled this way. Few men from the Eastlands have.” He looked around. “I'm guessing if we could get over the ridge”—he pointed upward at the highest peaks of the mountains—“we might be able to make our way down to the Satpura River. Maybe make some rafts and get down to the coast near Chatisthan. Or we could move back up into the foothills, staying high enough so the Gilani don't come after us, and could head south, see if we can find a way to the river Dee and follow that down to Ispar, but I don't recommend that course.”

“Why not?”

“That would take us through the Great South Forest. Not a lot of people get through there alive. Rumor has it that's where your Pantathians hole up, and it's where tigers that talk like men live . . .” When Greylock looked at him with disbelief written on his face, he quickly added, “But that's only rumor.”

A whizzing sound in the air warned them a scant second before another rain of darts pelted them. Erik tried to get his bulk below his shield. A shout and
curse told him someone hadn't covered up quickly enough as darts rained off shields and the surrounding rocks.

“How bad are the wounded?” asked Greylock.

“The wounded aren't too bad,” answered Erik. “One of the men has a dart in the leg, but it's down in the fleshy part of the calf—he can walk with help. A couple of broken arms, and Gregory of Tiburn dislocated his shoulder.”

Greylock said, “Well, we can't outwait them here and find out how many of those damn darts they're carrying.” In frustration he added, “Hell, we don't even know how many Gilani there arc.” The little men had swarmed over the front of the column, then vanished back into the grass when Calis's company had turned out to be willing to stand and make a fight of it. Since then they had been launching random flights of darts.

Looking around, Greylock said, “Erik, try to get back to the rear and start the men heading back up toward the cavern. We'll see if we can find another way down that won't bring us back into this hornets' nest.”

Erik crouched as he moved along and twice had to flatten himself against the rocks to avoid missiles. The darts were rude things, but cleverly fashioned. Long reeds, little more than heavy grass stalks, were tied together in tight bundles until they were as rigid as arrows, and fitted with tips of sharpened glass or stone. The tied reeds were surprisingly strong, and they rained down with enough impact that they could punch through any unarmored part of the body. Praji had mentioned that the Gilani used a throwing stick, called an atlatl, to propel them in a high arc over their
victims' heads, causing them to fall with great force. Erik would attest to their effectiveness.

He reached the end of the line and started the men moving back up once more. In less than ten minutes, Greylock, Praji, and Vaja came into view, the last of the forward element climbing upward.

Erik looked after and saw no sign of pursuit. “They don't seem anxious to come up here after us,” he said.

Vaja said, “They're not stupid. They're little fellows. In an open fight we'd chew them up in less time than it takes to tell of it—but coming after us from tall grass, well, there's no one who can fight out there better than the Gilani.”

Erik wouldn't argue that. “What has made them so hostile?”

Praji looked back. “Usually, they simply don't like strangers; they could be coming after us for the pure hell of it. Or maybe the Saaur are pushing them south and they're just mad.”

Erik said, “But the Saaur who came after us couldn't have mounted enough of a force to clear out these grass-dwellers. They'd need an army as big as the one mustering on the Vedra to do that.”

Vaja tapped Erik on the shoulder and pointed up the hill. Calis and de Loungville were hurrying downward to meet them.

When the Captain reached the men, Erik could see by more than one face in the company that many were relieved to see the Eagle of Krondor back among them. He retrieved his long-bow from the man who held it for him and said, “Why are you climbing back up?”

Greylock quickly explained, and Calis said, “We can't get over the mountains. There's nothing like a
pass up there I could see on the way down, and we can't risk going back into the cavern to see if there is a way through.” He thought it best not to tell anyone of what he had seen until he compared notes with Nakor.

Turning to de Loungville, he said, “Send Sho Pi and Jadow ahead. Tell them to find us a trail heading south. If we can move along the face of these mountains, then down behind these Gilani so we can then cut across to Maharta, we still may get through this without too much more damage.”

De Loungville nodded and went up the line to give the order to the men who would scout for them. “How's our water?” asked Calis.

“We're fine if we can find a source every day or two,” answered Greylock. “We've got eight fewer men who need to drink than we did a couple of hours ago.”

Calis nodded. “Praji, what's water like out there?”

“Might as well be a desert,” came the answer. “The Plain of Djams has some streams and water holes, but if you don't know where they are you can wander by one, never see it through the grass, and die of thirst.”

“Any birds you can follow?”

“A few, but damn me if I know what they look like,” admitted the old mercenary. “If we get far enough to the south, the foothills along the coast are kinder. Lots of springs, lakes, and creeks, from what I've been told.”

“South it is,” said Calis.

Ignoring his own fatigue, he hurried past the men in line so he could take over his position at the head of the column.

Erik trudged upward, trying to be equally stoic as his legs burned with fatigue. Each step up the slope took its toll, and he was more than grateful when Calis at last ordered a rest.

Erik waited with anticipation as the waterskin was passed his way, and drank deeply. They had passed a pool on the way down, so there was no reason to stint right now.

As he handed the skin back he looked out at the distant plain and something caught his eyes. “What's that rippling movement in the distance?” he asked no one in particular.

Praji heard him and came down to where he stood. Squinting, he said, “My eyes aren't what they used to be.” Turning to face up the slope, he called out, “Captain! You should take a look out there!” He pointed at the horizon.

Calis stared for long minutes, then said, “Gods above! It's the Saaur.”

“But that's impossible,” said de Loungville. “For that many to be marching, this far south . . .”

“There had to be a second army,” finished Praji.

“No wonder those bastards were so determined to keep us away from that entrance to the mountains,” said Vaja.

Calis said, “They must have been using the lower portions of the cavern as a staging area. So that's why our short friends in the grass are so out of sorts—they just got through having an army ride through their homes.”

De Loungville said, “They mean to hit Lanada from the rear!”

After another minute, in which most of the men commented or swore, Calis said, “No, they move southeast. They're heading for Maharta.”

Praji said, “If the Raj has sent his war elephants to fight with the Priest-King's army at Lanada, Maharta will be defended by the palace guards and mercenaries.”

De Loungville swore. “The bastards weren't keen on having us serving them! They were just anxious to keep us from joining the other side.” He almost spit.

Calis said, “How long before they reach the city?”

Praji said, “I only have a rough idea where the hell we are.” He thought and said, “Maybe a week, ten days at the outside. If they don't waste their horses, two weeks.”

“Can we get there before them?”

“No,” came the flat answer. “If we had wings, certainly, or if we hacked our way through those Gilani and had fresh horses waiting for us on the other side, maybe, but if we keep going south, there's no way we can reach the city within a week of those lizard men.”

“Can the city hold out for a week?”

“Maybe,” answered Praji frankly. “It depends on how much chaos is going on due to the host that's got to be fleeing southward. With so many people trying to get in, they may already be under siege.”

Erik said, “Can we get around them?”

Vaja said, “If we can get to Chatisthan, we might be able to find a ship that could take us up to the City of the Serpent River.”

Calis said, “Too many maybes. We're going to strike for the coast, then we'll try for the City of the Serpent River.” He called out to Hatonis, “Do you want to try for Chatisthan, or head overland to home?”

Hatonis shrugged, and grinned, looking youthful despite his grey hair. “One fight is pretty much the
same as another, and if we don't fight the snakes at Maharta we're certainly going to have to fight them at our own door.”

Calis nodded. “Let's go.”

Erik saw the others get into line, and he slapped Roo on the shoulder as his boyhood friend walked past. Roo gave him a crooked smile that showed there was nothing to smile about, and Erik nodded in agreement. Erik waited until the last man had passed, then picked up the rear guard position. Suddenly he realized he had taken Foster's place in line without being told. He looked ahead to see if de Loungville was signaling or if another was coming to take his place, but when no word came down to give up the corporal's place, he continued along, returning his mind to the business at hand: staying alive.

Providence smiled upon them, as they found a southern trail. It looked to be a miners' trail, for it was wider than any goat herder would have needed, and at several places along the way areas of bare rock proclaimed those workers who had hacked their way through the soil and stone to make it easy to get carts up and down the road.

For Calis's company it was as if at last they were running into some good luck. The men moved along swiftly, at a trot for a time, then a walk, the pace designed to cover the maximum distance by the end of each day.

The wounded were able to keep up, though the man with the injured leg was almost unconscious with pain and loss of blood by the end of the day. Nakor dressed his wound and told Calis that with him and Sho Pi working on it all night, the man would be slightly better each day.

They found water and were clearly able to increase their speed, as they moved quickly to a rising crest. A rumbling warned them as they climbed the rise; then as they topped the crest, in the distance they saw the falls.

De Loungville swore. They faced a gorge cut through the mountains; below them by a hundred feet a great fall of water cascaded into a small lake another two hundred feet below that. From there the river meandered southeast toward the ocean.

Ancient rocks marked where once a rope-and-wood suspension bridge had crossed the gap. Another pair of rock anchors rose up on the opposite side of the gorge.

“The Satpura River,” said Praji. “Now I know exactly where we are.”

“Where are we?” asked Calis.

“Dead east across the Plain of Djams lies Maharta,” said Praji. Turning to Calis he said, “I don't know what sort of magic was in that tunnel, but we're one hell of a lot farther away from where we entered the grasslands than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” said de Loungville. “We were fifty, sixty miles away from where we entered when we got to that big grotto.”

“More like three hundred,” answered Vaja. “It would take you a month on a good horse to get back to that mound out in the grass,” he observed, “if you could get past the Gilani.”

Nakor said, “It was a very good trick, then, for I felt nothing of it.” He smiled as if this was a major feat. Then he grinned. “Bet it was as soon as we moved from the barrow. Bet you there is no tunnel there. It must be an illusion.” He shook his head.
“Now I really want to go back and look.”

Calis said, “Some other time. How far to Maharta?”

Praji shrugged. “By caravan from Palamds to Port Grief, a month. No one goes from there to Maharta overland—they take a ship. But there is that old coast road, if you don't mind the bandits and other low-lifes that haunt it.”

“Where's our best course?” asked Calis.

Praji rubbed his chin a moment. “I think we send Sho Pi and Jadow that way,” he said, pointing down the slope near the gorge, “to see if there's a trail down nearby. If so, we take it. If we follow the river, we should be less than a week from Palamds. We can find a caravan or buy horses, and then we ride to Port Grief. From there a ship, and we're on our way to wherever you need to go.”

“I need to get back to Krondor,” said Calis, and several of the men nearby cheered when they heard that.

Nakor said, “No, first we must go to Maharta, then to Krondor.”

“Why?” asked Calis.

“We haven't stopped to ask why the Emerald Queen is taking the river cities.”

Vaja said, “Good question.”

“Hatonis, Praji, you have any ideas?” asked Calis.

Hatonis said, “Conquest for its own purposes is not unknown in this land—for booty, to enlarge one's domain, for honor—but this simple taking of everything . . .” He shrugged.