The Whisperer (22 page)

Davren guessed what had happened.
Do it again
, he said gently,
but hurry.

Griff tried again, this time ignoring Tyren’s bitter thoughts and searching through them for anything that might lead him to the Stalkers. It was strange to be invading someone’s thoughts and seeking something specific. He identified his goal
within moments, a man called Snark. Using Tyren as a curious sort of leaping platform, Griff did something he never imagined he was capable of and diverted his skills, linking onto a new trace and following it. He found himself hearing Snark’s thoughts in seconds.

We’ve got you cornered now, you curs. Once my men come around from the sides you’ll have nowhere to run but deeper into the forest and we’ll just keep closing the circle—

Griff snapped back away, and found himself meeting Tess’s troubled expression.

‘What?’ she asked, searching his face for clues.

He couldn’t tell her everything he’d heard. It would break her. What he did choose to say was bad enough. ‘We’re surrounded,’ he gasped. ‘The Stalkers are closing in from several directions. They’re deliberately trying to drive us deeper into the forest.’

‘Wait,’ she said urgently, ‘let me check with Rix.’

Moments later she looked back at Griff. ‘He’s been gliding at lower levels, trying to keep us in sight. That’s why he missed what they’re up to but you’re right. There’s three separate groups.’

‘How long?’ Griff asked.

‘Just minutes, I think,’ she replied, ashen-faced.

‘There’s only three groups. Ask him if he can guide us through a narrow route—a way to slip through them.’

She shook her head helplessly but obviously tried. ‘There is a wider opening in this direction,’ she pointed. ‘But they’ve got a dog, Griff, they can just keep on tracking.’

‘Well—’

‘Then we go deeper. We’ll have to figure out what to do as we run. If we wait here a moment longer, they’ll be upon us.’

He held up his hand to stop her speaking. ‘Just run, Tess!’

It felt to Griff as though the dog was all but snapping at their heels. He scooped up Helys, threw a sympathetic glance at Elph, who rallied once again, and they all ran for their lives.

But it was Elph who gave up first.

‘He can’t go any further,’ Tess said, sadly, flopping on the ground next to the deeply panting sagar, she herself barely able to speak. ‘His heart will give out.’

Griff was bent, breathing hard. He’d put Helys down and she went to Elph to comfort him, her colour turning paler by the moment in her anxiety. Even Rix came down lower to watch from midway in the trees, whilst Davren, the least breathless, arrived to stand next to Griff. He placed his fist on his chest. Griff understood the centaur was telling him to be strong, have heart. But Griff didn’t know how to find that hope, not without a weapon and so many to protect from men, the dog and no doubt plenty of weapons.

‘They won’t hurt us, Tess, I promise,’ Griff said. ‘We’re his prize acts, remember?’

‘I don’t care about me, Griff, but he may hurt one of the creatures to remind me he owns me! That punishment will be too much to bear and you know he’s capable of it.’

Griff nodded forlornly. ‘Tell Davren and Rix especially, not to fight back. I’ll say it was my idea and I’ll take the blame. But they mustn’t anger him. Promise me.’ He waited while she used her
mindlink to talk with her friends and felt a knot of fear tighten as her eyes began to water. ‘What is it?’

‘Rix,’ she said, fighting back her sorrow. ‘He’s not coming with us. He says he can’t go back into a cage, says he’ll die if he’s imprisoned. I understand, don’t blame him. Veercats need space and need to use their wings, otherwise they lose the will to live. I’ve told Davren to go but he refuses to leave me and the others.’

‘Listen to me, Tess. I can talk to Rix using the Silvering. I can always find him for you, I promise.’

She looked at him as though he was speaking gibberish.

‘I’ve got a lot to explain to you—what the Silvering is, who I found there.’

‘I know you’ve been speaking to the Whisperer because Davren told me.’

‘And I haven’t had a chance to tell you what I discovered but right now I just want you to know that Rix is not lost to you. I’m glad at least one of the creatures is getting away and I promise you that I’ll keep you in touch with him. Tell him to go and not be caught.’ He looked at Davren. ‘You shouldn’t stay but I understand why you will. Just don’t fight them. I know you refused to be scared by Tyren and after watching you deal with Mad Dog Merl I know that you’re strong enough to fight back, but right now being meek and acting scared is our best protection.’

Davren gave a small smile of understanding and it broke Griff’s heart to see the fine, proud creature of the forest accepting that he must be humbled by a greedy, cruel man but Griff knew it was the only way that they might come out of this without any of them being physically hurt.

They gathered under a huge old oak and anxiously awaited their pursuers, chilled by cool shadows beneath great branches where the sun could not penetrate. There was no point in running any longer. Their pursuers were getting closer by the minute.

In his nervousness at what was about to occur, Griff’s thoughts fled to Lute. He was still shaken that the Whisperer had
turned out to be the Crown Prince, now apparently King. He hoped Lute was faring better right now than they were. His mind was dragged towards the sounds of riders. They were upon them.

Into the clearing they came and in no particular hurry—not that the horses could travel quickly through this dense part of the forest. But the dog travelled with ease and suddenly Griff and Tess and the creatures were faced by the snarling, panting beast. It nipped at Davren’s hooves and he kicked out at the animal.

‘Call it off!’ Tess screamed as the men came into view.

Griff saw Tyren. He was surprised the fat showman had bothered to come along. He expected Tyren to leave his dirty work to be done by others. ‘There’s no point in hurting your prize, Tyren,’ Griff yelled, no longer paying the man any politeness.

‘Oh, but
you
are my prize, Griffin,’ Tyren replied, unhurried, ‘I might even let the dog have the centaur. It’s ready to rip him to shreds on command of Master Snark here.’

Griff swallowed. ‘Why lose two acts to prove a point? You’ve caught us. The creatures are not to blame for the escape.’

Three more riders arrived. There were eleven Stalkers in total, wearing the telltale red riding gloves, red feathers in their hats and dark capes. Griff picked out the leader, Snark, because his cape was lined with a deep red, whilst the rest had black linings in their capes.

‘Where’s Derven?’ Snark asked one of his men.

‘Just coming, he backtracked because he heard something.’

Snark nodded. ‘Well, we’re all here bar one. Are these all you seek, Master Tyren?’ he asked, staring at Griff and his companions as though they were vermin.

‘One missing. The veercat,’ Tyren answered.

‘And you’ll never have him in your possession again,’ Tess hurled at him.

He shrugged. ‘Not much of a loss. With luck he’ll likely die out here alone anyway. Veercats need packs to hunt successfully, don’t they?’

She ignored him but Griff could feel her pain.

‘Thank you for your work, Master Snark,’ Tyren said appreciatively. ‘I hope this is the final time I need to employ your men for the task of tracking Miss Tess and her creatures.’

‘I take it you will keep them chained permanently from now on?’

‘And guarded constantly,’ Tyren replied. ‘Well, as I’m paying you for the extra help I think we should do the branding here, don’t you?’

‘Messy business and usually filled with the wretches’ screeches. Best now where no-one else can hear their screams. We’ll get a fire started; shouldn’t take long to heat up the branding irons. You said a large “T” is sufficient, didn’t you?’

‘That would be perfect. And I shall have it inked onto the boy and girl, too.’

‘We can do that for you as well.’

‘Does it hurt?’ Tyren asked innocently.

‘I’m afraid it does,’ Snark answered and got on with the business of organising his men.

‘Oh, good,’ Tyren replied and Griff heard a note of glee in his voice.

Most of the men climbed down from their horses and tethered them, and then as an added precaution—not that their prisoners were planning to run—Snark had one of his men train a bow and arrow on them. The remainder untied their weapons, stretched, and took advantage of this time to rest and eat. A couple of them quickly built a fire and watered their mounts. Meanwhile a horrible silence was held until Tyren broke it.

‘Hungry?’ he asked Griff and Tess.

‘A little,’ Griff admitted. There was no point in taking Tess’s attitude and ignoring the man because it was only going to make it worse in the long run.

‘Good. You can stay that way. And I hope the branding really hurts your creature friends, Tess. If you think that califa looks pale now, wait until the Stalkers have finished burning my mark into her flesh,’ he said with genuine cruelty in his voice.

‘We’ll do the centaur first,’ Snark said, poking an iron into the fire that had already begun crackling.

Griff wanted to go into the Silvering and talk directly to Davren, who appeared suddenly skittish and understandably so.

‘Is this beast going to give us trouble?’ Snark demanded.

‘What do you think?’ Tess replied, refusing to back down. Griff admired her pluck but he didn’t think it was helping their cause.

‘We’ll soon fix that,’ Snark replied, smiling nastily. ‘You did say it was alright, didn’t you, Master Tyren?’

‘Injure but not kill were my orders.’

Griff felt his stomach clench with fear and then before anyone could say anything further, a silent signal was given and one of the men loosed an arrow into Davren’s side. The centaur reared up in pain, howling his anger and Tess screamed but she begged her creatures not to run or risk being injured. Davren was bleeding, his hide streaked with bright blood. Bravely he reached around and pulled the arrow out.

‘Ah, good, just a simple flesh wound. No real danger but it should quieten him down,’ Tyren said appreciatively to Snark. ‘And if he gives you any further problem, put another one in him—’

He was interrupted from saying anything further by the arrival of a final Stalker. He was leading a horse.

Snark looked up from heating his branding iron.

‘I found this tethered to a tree not far away, Master Snark,’ the man called Derven said.

‘Well, whose is it?’ Snark demanded.

Everyone looked around baffled. Griff heard rustling and looked up into the tree.

‘Well, it has to be owned by someone. It hardly tied itself to the damn tree. Find who it belongs to!’ Snark ordered angrily. He’d barely finished speaking when three arrows whizzed by. Within a few blinks of the eye, three men went down screaming, with arrowheads in their thighs.

‘No need,’ said a fresh voice before its owner dropped with grace and agility from a branch above. He landed lightly near
Griff, turning to stare at him with even more astonishment than Griff felt staring back at him.

‘I can’t believe it,’ the man said. ‘It was only when you looked up I realised it was you,’ he murmured. With daunting speed before anyone could react to him, a further two arrows were loosed by the man into two more individuals. Five men were now writhing on the ground and cursing.

Griff frowned but then chaos erupted and he had no time to ask the obvious question.

‘And who in Lo’s name are you?’ Snark snarled.

‘Let’s not bring our god into the unholy scene I look upon here, shall we?’ the man replied. ‘And never mind my name, sir. I don’t share it with bullies, let alone criminals and what you are about here is criminal business. Now call your dog off immediately.’ When no order was given, he sighed. ‘I can kill him or, better still,’ he said, shocking everyone at the speed he could retrieve an arrow and nock it, ‘I could kill you,’ he said, aiming it at Tyren, drawing his bow tightly.

Griff watched Tyren bristle. ‘How dare you! I’ll have you know I own—’

‘No-one owns anyone in our realm, Master Tyren. Only you seem to think so. You and your thuggish sidekicks here. This is the last time the Stalkers will walk this land with any authority. Call off the beast or take the arrow, Tyren. Put the dog on its leash and tie it to a tree.’

‘Do it!’ Tyren ordered. ‘Now!’ he yelled at Snark.

Snark sneered. ‘My men have the authority of the Crown.’ He gave the signal and the dog was tied up.

The newcomer shook his head. ‘No, sir, they do not. Now that the Crown knows of your dark work, you will be disbanded and I don’t doubt your nasty group here will be rounded up and soundly punished. I see some solid floggings and lengthy gaol sentences coming up. As for you, Master Tyren, you will not escape heavy punishment for the brutal treatment I have witnessed.’

Snark laughed again. ‘Er, whoever you are, apart from the obvious fact that you are seriously outnumbered, we’re the ones
with weapons,’ he said, glancing at the man holding the bow. The others, Griff noted, wore swords at their sides.

The stranger seemed untroubled. ‘In the time it takes your man over there to nock a single arrow, I will not only have killed him but likely you as well, Snark. Don’t risk it.’

Snark laughed. ‘Shoot him!’ he ordered. ‘But don’t kill him.’

But the Stalker got no further than reaching behind for an arrow. A knife whizzed through the air and landed dully at the stalker’s shoulder. Meanwhile Snark screamed and put a hand to his ear, blood suddenly pumping from the side of his head.

‘But I hadn’t forgotten about my knives,’ the stranger said. ‘Or these,’ he added, crossing his hands over his shoulders and retrieving two hidden swords from the cunningly concealed scabbards he wore at his back that Griff had seen the moment the man landed. Griff stole a glance at Tess, who was wide-eyed, her gaze shining with pleasure as much as disbelief. Even Davren wore a sly grin, his wound ignored for now. He nodded with obvious glee at Griff. No-one knew who this man was but none of them cared. He was their saviour.

‘My ear!’ Snark shrieked, pulling his hand away to reveal a bloodied mass where his ear had been.

‘Rest assured it doesn’t spoil your good looks, although I’ll be happy to balance up your head and cut off the other one,’ the man said.

Griff felt a thrill to see Tyren’s eyes now filled with fear. Tyren was fine when he felt in control and was pushing people around with his threats. But now he was scared.

The stranger must have sensed the same. ‘Don’t move, Master Tyren, I can throw a knife hard and fast and very accurately over long distances. I can fell you before you even get out of this clearing. Now get off your horse, you oversized bully, it surely needs a rest from your big arse weighing it down.’

Tyren blinked. He struggled down from the saddle.

‘Quickly, boy,’ the stranger said quietly, ‘get their swords—count that you have twelve—and lay the hilts in the fire. They
won’t be picking those up in a hurry. And be careful that they don’t grab you, use you as bargaining power. Be wary.’

None of the men were inclined to risk further injury or loss of life and stayed still. Griff moved swiftly to do as he was told, quietly marvelling at the ingenuity of the man’s idea. Snark was still clutching the side of his head and wailing at the pain of his lost ear. Griff had to stop himself from laughing.

‘I’ll have your hide for this, Griff,’ Tyren muttered, for his hearing only, as he passed. The showmaster carried no weapon to Griff’s knowledge and he could easily dodge the podgy man, so he didn’t feel nearly so threatened any more. He wished he could speak to Lute right now and explain with glee the seemingly magical arrival of a gifted stranger.

‘Capes off, gentlemen, please,’ their new friend continued. ‘All remaining weapons into the fire and no-one else will get hurt,’ the as-yet un-named individual ordered. He pulled off his own hat, which had been pulled low over his face.

‘He’s outnumbered!’ Tyren yelled at the bleeding Snark. ‘Why don’t you tell your men to overwhelm him.’