Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (36 page)

“They no longer desire to kill us,” Rathburt added. “They only want us to leave.”

“Elu agrees with the trees. He also wants to leave.”

“How far do you think it is to Cariya?” Laylah said. “I wouldn’t mind washing this sticky stuff out of my hair and clothes with some nice, fresh water.”

“I would guess no more than three leagues,” Torg said. “But the druids move faster than we do, and they are probably past the fire and on our trail already. We must hurry.”

“And what do we do when we reach the river?” Laylah said. “What I saw of Cariya didn’t look swim-able.”

“Despite the evil of the forest, a few people manage to live along some portions of Cariya,” Torg said. “The will of the forest does not extend to its banks, on either side. If we are lucky, we’ll find a craft.”

“But even if we get a boat, isn’t most of the river just a series of rapids?” Rathburt said. “We’ll be drowned.”

“There’s no good way out of here,” Torg agreed. “But Cariya is my choice. And look on the bright side, Rathburt. If we die, at least it’ll be fast.”

“Too fast. I’d rather die in my sleep,” Rathburt said, remembering his dreams. “I’ll leave the painful deaths to people like you.”

Torg laughed. “Tell that to the Warlish witch you stabbed in the chest.”

Rathburt had no response.

VEDANA CONTINUED to watch from above.

She had seen the four of them come to a complete stop, as if they had all day to lollygag about. It had taken a massive dose of her strength to jolt Laylah into using the wizard’s ivory staff, but at least it had gotten them going again—and none too soon.

Several thousand druids had breached the dragon fire and were marching toward them with alarming speed. The demon believed the foursome would reach the river before the druids, but it would be close. Still, there wasn’t much else she could do. There were too many druids to use
efrits
. And beneath the canopy, the forest was too dense for Bhayatupa to be of any help. All Vedana could do now was get the Mogols into position so that Torg would find the boat soon after reaching the river.

“Mother, may I go to them?” came a sweet voice from a bubble of darkness floating in the air beside Vedana.

The raven cawed, the disturbance annoying it. “How can you possibly help?”

“I can guide him, Mother,” Peta said. “That’s what I do.”

The raven considered this. “I will be listening to every word you say. If you reveal one word of my plan, I will shut you up for good.”

“I want your plan to work as much as you do,” Peta said. “I am Father’s best chance. I promise to do just enough to help him escape Dhutanga. Besides, it will be wonderful to breathe fresh air again. Except for a brief moment just before my
 . . .
death, I have not done so for thousands of years.”

“You will still be blind,” Vedana said, taking pleasure in the proclamation. “You will always be blind.”

“I know, Mother. But until you entered my life, it had never caused me pain.”

LAYLAH NOTICED that the forest was thinning. Soon she no longer needed to use Obhasa to light their way. She also began to hear the distant sound of rushing water. But almost at the same time, she heard the druids approaching from behind.

“We have to move faster,” Laylah said.

“I hear them too,” Torg said. “Hurry
 . . .
everyone! I believe they are many.”

For once, it wasn’t just Rathburt who was slowing them down. Elu was struggling.

“I might have to stay back and fight them,” Torg said. “The three of you should go on ahead.”

“No,” Laylah shouted, with enough force to rustle the needles at his feet. “I will not allow you to leave us again. We succeed
 . . .
or fail
 . . .
together.”

“She’s right,” Rathburt said. “Your wandering off is what got us into so much trouble to begin with.”

Torg started to argue, but then Laylah noticed Elu pointing at something. “Who is that?” the Svakaran said.

Laylah turned. A young girl with hair the color of sand and a fluffy dress that seemed to glimmer stood nearby. She beckoned them with her tiny hand and then scampered toward the river.

“
Dhiite
!
Dhiitaake
!”
Torg shouted. “We must follow. She will show us the way.”

The wizard ran after her, with Laylah and the others in pursuit. The girl’s surprise appearance gave them a burst of energy, and they ran faster than before. Laylah had no idea who the girl might be, but she remembered Torg using those same words when they had come too near Arupa-Loka. Was this child some kind of demon? An ally of Vedana? If so, why would she want to help them? But Torg seemed to know her, which was enough reason for Laylah to follow.

No matter how fast they ran, the girl maintained the same distance from them. She angled down the side of a steep hill and raced along a path that weaved through a misty bog, then down an even steeper hill laden with crusty boulders. They followed in her footsteps, and Laylah learned to trust the girl’s judgment. Every decision she made seemed to be the right one. Without her guidance, they would have struggled mightily to traverse this area of the forest. But why and how would a little girl in a pretty dress know so much about Dhutanga? Appearance-wise, she could not have been more out of place.

Then the girl slipped through a wall of trees and momentarily was lost from view. Torg followed her and also disappeared. Laylah was next. Beyond the trees was another steep cliff. The river—wider and calmer than when Laylah had first seen it—lay fifty cubits beneath them.

Torg knelt in front of the girl and hugged her. Was he crying? From her vantage point, Laylah couldn’t tell. But she could see the girl’s face—as beautiful as a Warlish witch’s—with full red lips that curled upward at the corners. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old, yet her aura seemed almost ancient. Her eyes were closed, and she was hugging Torg with strong little arms. When she opened her eyes, Laylah was startled; they were pure white, with no iris or pupil. Obviously she was blind. But then how could she have led them so well?

“The druids come,” the child said. “We have to jump.”

“Jump?” Rathburt said. “
I’m
not jumping.”

“It’s not far, Rathburt,” the girl said. “And the water is deep.”

“How do you know my name? Are you a demon?”

“She is many things,” Torg said, standing up and towering over the girl. “But our enemy, she is not. If she says jump, we jump. Besides, what other choice do we have? The druids are upon us.”

Torg grasped the girl’s hand and then Laylah’s and stepped to the edge of the precipice. “Hold on tight to Obhasa,” he said to Laylah. Then: “Are you ready, ladies?”

The girl giggled. Laylah found it charming.

They jumped.

Laylah hit the water hard. It was stunningly cold but plenty deep, and Torg never let go of her hand. They surfaced soon after, taking big gulps of air. The current was strong but not a problem for good swimmers. A moment later, Laylah heard a splash and twisted her head in time to see Rathburt and Elu coming to the surface. Rathburt had lost his grip on his staff, but Elu reached out and grabbed it. Even injured, he was tougher than the slumped wizard.

“What now?” Laylah said to the girl as they floated down river.

“There’s a canoe up ahead,” she said. “A couple of Mogols guard it, but they’ll run when they see us.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know many things.”

Then she broke away and swam for the far bank, clambering onto a flat rock. The others followed, relieved to be out of the icy water. Laylah was pleased that quick dip had washed the troublesome goo almost completely out of her skin and clothing. Rathburt coughed and spluttered as though he had nearly drowned.

“You’ll find them just around the bend,” the girl told Torg. “They’ve been ordered to run without a fight.”

“Ordered? By whom?” Laylah said.

Suddenly, a fist-sized rock whizzed past Laylah’s head, missing her by less than a finger-length. Hundreds of druids had gathered on the other side of the river, their strange, round eyes aflame. They picked up more rocks in their bony fingers and hurled them with terrific force.

“We must reach the canoe,” Torg said. “Stay behind me
 . . .
and cover your heads.”

The wizard drew the Silver Sword from the scabbard on his back and sprinted forward. Just around the bend, they came upon the Mogols sitting near a large canoe that was tied to a boulder at bow and stern. When they saw Torg’s approach, they hooted and ran.

Torg cut both ropes with his sword, and the five of them leapt into the boat, Laylah in the bow, then Rathburt, Elu, the girl, and Torg. Laylah took one of the paddles, Torg the other. They shoved off and entered the current, rocks whizzing all around them. One struck Torg on the top of his head with such force that it split in two, but it didn’t seem to bother the wizard. A few moments later, they were racing down the river, paddling hard and riding the current. The druids could not keep up.

“Here we go!” the little girl said, waving her arms excitedly.

SOON AFTER THEY left the druids behind, the river calmed and broadened, though its current remained swift. Peta watched Torg, who sat in the stern, steer them down the middle of the watercourse. Until then, the air temperature had been warm enough to dry their clothes and keep them from shivering. But as dusk fell, a chilly breeze raced along the surface of the water in the same direction as the current.

To Peta, however, being cold was just one of an array of exquisite experiences. She was alive again—and even though the majority of her essence still resided in the Realm of the Undead, a significant enough part of her was incarnated into the Realm of Life. And it felt magnificent. Now she fully understood why Vedana was so driven to find a way to enter this realm permanently. The glory of it defied description. Though her eyes were dead and saw nothing but darkness, her other senses reveled in every sensation: the sound of bubbly water, the smell of fresh air, the touch of lumpy bark, the taste of warm saliva.

It was all so fantastic.

She smiled.

“I’m hungry,” Peta heard Rathburt say. Of all of them, he was the funniest, always moaning and complaining, but in a manner that she found attractive.

Peta reached between her legs and found a canvas bag in the bottom of the canoe, knowing, of course, that it would be there.

“Here’s some food,” she said, tapping Elu on the chest after sensing that he had turned and was watching her. She and the Svakaran were almost the same height, though he was far heavier and more muscular.

“Thank you, missus,” Elu said timidly.

“My name is Peta,” she said, “and yours is Elu. I know you well.”

Peta could hear Elu searching through the bag. “There’s salted fish, cornbread, hickory nuts, and berries,” the Svakaran said. “Lots and lots.”

“Then hand it over,” Rathburt snapped. “In another moment, I’ll be dead of starvation.”

Peta threw her head back and laughed.

VEDANA WATCHED Peta from the branches above, listening carefully to every word the little girl said. Vedana had the strength to remove her from the Realm of Life at any time. The ghost-child’s abilities as a soothsayer were unrivaled in Triken’s history, but her other powers were minuscule in comparison to a master demon’s. Vedana could toss her around like a doll, if she so chose. And if Peta betrayed her now, she might do just that.

After all, a bargain was a bargain. Vedana had invited the ghost-child’s karma to enter her unborn child given life from Torg’s seed, but only as long as Peta did what she was told when she was told. Peta had agreed, knowing better than anyone that the future of Triken hung in the balance. Vedana’s plan was selfishly devised, but it was the only one with any legitimate chance of unseating Invictus from his throne.

The way Peta had guided the foursome to the river had impressed Vedana. Though the girl was as blind as a Mahaggatan bat, she had not once stumbled or tripped, despite a wicked labyrinth of trees, roots, rocks, and bogs. Peta knew, in advance, the location of most every impediment. In some ways her knowledge was as immense as a god’s, but she had limited ability to control or change what she foresaw.

To Vedana, this was pathetic. What good was power if you were unable to wreak havoc with it? It had taken Vedana’s brilliance to put Peta’s knowledge to good use. If the damnable Death-Knower hadn’t stuck his nose into things, Vedana already would be freed from the Realm of the Undead and ruling the Realm of Life, with Invictus as her pawn. Whenever Vedana thought about Torg’s intrusion in the tower of Arupa-Loka, where he released Peta from the spell of the magical amulet and set her free, it galled her. Still, Vedana needed the Death-Knower for now, even though she despised him. When the time came, she would gain her revenge. But that would have to wait.

The wizard steered the craft toward the near bank, just a few dozen cubits beneath where she perched. He and the others—except Peta—left the canoe to relieve themselves in the woods. Would she, the mother of all demons, have to perform that grotesque act once she permanently entered the Realm of Life? The thought made her squirm. Even then, it would be worth it. When Vedana was queen of all, she would
make
it worth it.

USING HER PSYCHIC abilities, Peta watched them return to the canoe, each bearing a look of relief on their exhausted faces. Peta could not share in this; her incarnated body did not require sustenance or release. But her senses—except for physical sight—were delightfully alive and well. It was going to be torturous if Vedana forced Peta to return, in full, to the undead darkness. Still, she knew the time would come when she would be released from her torment and reborn in another place, far from this horror. Peta had foreseen it herself. She again would be blind, as the demon had taunted. But she would be alive in a human body in a peaceful world. And it would be a wonderful thing.

As they returned to their places in the canoe, Peta smiled.

“For the next ten leagues or so, the river is manageable,” she said to them. “My powers are limited, but I do have the ability to steer the boat without the use of a paddle, as long as Cariya remains relatively calm. It will give all of you a chance to sleep for what remains of the night. That is, if you trust me.”

“Elu trusts you.”

“You don’t even know who she is,” Rathburt scolded. “She might be leading us into worse danger than we’re already in.”

Laylah started to speak, but Torg interrupted her. “I know who she is,” the wizard said. “And I have already told you that she should be trusted—as much or more than any among us. But to alleviate some of your concerns, I will tell you her tale as I know it, though it must be done quickly. We are weary and need rest more than conversation.”

When they again were on the river, Torg described his first meeting with Peta in Arupa-Loka, which had occurred more than seven centuries ago when he had visited the Ghost City during one of his wanderings. Then he told them about his drugged sexual encounter with Vedana in the cavern beneath Asubha, which had occurred just a few months ago.

“When we neared Arupa-Loka during our march to Duccarita, you heard me say, ‘
Dhiite! Dhiitaake
!’” Torg said. “In the ancient tongue, this means ‘Daughter! Little daughter!’ As the demons were assaulting me, Peta managed to slip through the cacophony and speak to me. It was then that I discovered that her karma had entered my child born of Vedana.”

The wizard gazed at Peta, his blue eyes sparkling in the light of the quarter moon. “Is there anything you would like to say?”

“Only that you are my Father, and I love you. In past lives, you have been my Father before. And I your Mother. And Sister. And even Lover.”

The last word seemed to upset Laylah greatly. “How can you know such things, child?”

“I am aware,” Peta said. Then she smiled at Laylah. “Do not be jealous of me. Torg has always preferred
you
as the Lover.”

Laylah flushed. “And what of Vedana? What role does
she
play? I also have spent time with the demon and have found her to be utterly despicable. Tell us what Vedana desires.”

Peta recoiled. For a moment she felt like a child who had been slapped on the bottom for using bad language. “I
 . . .
cannot,” she said softly.

Once again, Torg interrupted. “Before all is said and done, Vedana’s motives will become clear. As for Peta, it is not our place to ask who she is or what she is. Rather, it is our privilege to be in her presence. I say to all of you—even
you
, my love—that Peta is to be trusted. She has told us what she can, and that will have to suffice. Now we should sleep. The river is long—and by morning it will again grow angry. We will need all of our strength to survive its assault.”