“Where did they go, these people?”
“All gone,” the pig grunted sadly. “All but the boy. He feeds us small things and doesn’t scratch us at all. The boy has no time for us.”
“Where did all the people go? Maybe if you tell me, I can bring them back. You’ll get more attention.”
“They won’t be back.”
She gestured for the pig to continue, translating its grunts and the subtle gestures of its ears and nose.
“The sky flashes came for the people.”
“The lightning,” Feril murmured to herself.
“The flashes killed the little ones. The bigger ones were pulled into the sky.”
Feril scratched her head. “What pulled them?”
“The ugly men.”
She cocked her head. The pig snuffled louder. “The many ugly men who rained from the sky.”
Feril stepped away from the pen, promising the pigs they’d be rewarded with good food and plenty of scratching tonight. Then she remembered the wolf. “Why did you follow us? Is Groller all right? Jasper and Rig?” she asked Fury.
The wolf barked and wagged his tail, then loped away from the pen toward the graveyard.
Yes, we might need help, Feril interpreted. She watched his retreating form. She felt suddenly alone and rushed to catch up with him and join the others waiting by the graveyard.
The Kagonesti told them what she had learned from the pig as they buried the rest of the children. The shoveling obviously hurt Blister’s fingers. She refused to stand back and simply observe, however. Even Fury helped, digging with his forepaws and sending clumps of dirt flying behind him.
The last child was buried shortly before sunset. To the west, miles away, there was a flicker of lightning. The grave diggers looked toward the dark clouds. The breeze was heavy with the scent of water and hinted a storm would descend on them soon.
The boy was trembling, and Blister reached up and gingerly patted his back. “We’ll protect you,” she promised.
“Let’s get some rest,” Dhamon suggested.
“But it’s dinner time,” the kender protested, her stomach grumbling.
“I want to be on our way in a few hours,” Dhamon said. He eyed the clay domes, selecting a small one for Feril and Fury, who followed him inside. Shaon and Blister chose the central lodge.
“We can’t leave the boy here,” Feril said, as she stretched out on her back on a wide straw mattress covered with blankets.
Dhamon draped a thin blanket over her. He noticed there was a shelf covered with carefully folded clothes above the bed. They would be able to find clean things to wear before they left.
“The boy’s safer here than with us,” he returned. “Besides, his monsters have no reason to come back here. There’s nothing left for them to take.”
Feril nodded reluctantly and then yawned. “You should go find a hut and get some rest.” Within moments she was sleeping soundly, the wolf curled at her side.
Dhamon watched her for a while, then went outside and selected a nearby dome. His sleep was troubled, filled with flashes of lightning and charred bodies. He awoke a few hours later to the sound of rain splattering against the clay roof.
26
Blue Death
Judging by how rested he felt, Dhamon guessed it was near midnight. He stepped outside and tipped his face toward the sky. It was so overcast that no stars poked through. Dark clouds stretched in all directions, and the rain that continued to fall was heavy and warm. He closed his eyes and let the drops wash over him. After several minutes, he padded to Feril’s dome. He glanced in just as the Kagonesti was rising. The wolf was nowhere to be seen.
He found clothes roughly Feril’s size and handed them to her. He spotted a child’s tunic that would do for Blister, and a large shirt could replace the yellow one of Rig’s that Shaon had torn and dirtied. His own clothes were in reasonably good repair, but he picked out a soft leather shirt for himself and tucked it under his arm. He might need it later.
The Kagonesti joined him outside, wearing her tan leggings and a dark green tunic that hung below her hips. Through the darkness he tried to examine her bandage, but she wasn’t cooperating much. She slowly spun about, obviously enjoying the rain, throwing her head back and letting the drops splash into her mouth. Every time he moved closer, she took a few steps away, as if playing a game. Finally he grabbed her good shoulder and tugged her closer to the dome, where the doorway offered a little shelter.
“You two have a good sleep?” Shaon purred as she poked her head out of the central lodge. As she walked closer, Dhamon saw that the female barbarian’s dark eyes sparkled with meaning. Blister followed her, yawning and shuffling.
When he finally he got a look at Feril’s arm, there was no sign of fresh blood. The wound was healing. Satisfied, he handed the spare clothes to Shaon and busied himself organizing and saddling the horses.
“The mares aren’t happy about traveling in this weather,” the Kagonesti said. She listened sympathetically to their whinnies and scratched a spot between her horse’s eyes.
“I’m not especially happy about it, either,” Dhamon said. He was thoroughly soaked already, and his clothes felt heavy and cumbersome. Dhamon helped the Kagonesti onto her horse and wedged his new shirt under the saddle. Feril’s dripping curls were plastered practically flat against her head. He reached up and traced the oak leaf on her cheek.
“That tattoo’s there for good,” she said. “No amount of water is going to wash it away.”
“You two want to turn back?” Shaon asked pointedly. “I won’t object if you want to call it quits. Rig and I can drop you somewhere cozy along the coast.” That’s what Shaon wanted certainly—to go back to the Anvil. She’d spent the night dreaming of sky monsters and dragons and being crushed by giant jaws. She wanted nothing more than to be back lying in Rig’s arms on a boat rocking miles from land.
“No. I can’t turn back.” Dhamon leapt on the back of his horse. He untied his hair and whipped it about his face. Below him, Fury shook, too, emerging from somewhere. The wolf threw water off his thick coat in all directions. It was a futile gesture, as the rain continued to drench them. “You’re welcome to stay here with the boy until I come back. Or to return to Palanthas. But I wouldn’t suggest that. You might get lost.”
“You realize we don’t know where to look for these... monsters,” Shaon grumbled. “We could be riding around these barrens for hours. Days even.”
“We’re looking for the Lonely Refuge,” Dhamon returned. “But if the boy’s sky monsters materialize at night during a storm, now’s the time to look for clues.”
“Provided you believe a pig and a little boy.” The sea barbarian sighed. She didn’t want to stay with the boy, who stood in a doorway watching them, and she didn’t intend to go back to the Palanthas harbor by herself. She knew Dhamon was right—without the visibility of the stars, she’d likely get lost, and she didn’t want to risk bumping into any sky monsters on her own.
Shaon ran her fingers over the wet pommel of her sword and adjusted the brown shirt that hung in wet folds over her. “Well, I’ve never lost a fight, yet. And they might need me,” she whispered to herself. “All right, let’s go,” she said loudly. She helped the kender on the horse. “The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner I can get back to the ship.”
“We’ll send someone for you,” Dhamon called to the boy. “But it might be several days. Be careful.” He tossed him a sack filled with dried beef and nuts, a fair amount of the rations he’d purchased.
Dhamon’s course took him past Dolor’s graveyard. His horse’s back was slick and slippery from the rain, but he was a practiced rider, and he nudged it into an easy gallop. The map showed that there was another village better than a dozen miles ahead, almost in a direct line with the Lonely Refuge. Maybe the sky monsters had moved there. It was as good as any place to look, and it wouldn’t take them out of their way. He hoped they wouldn’t miss the village entirely because of the darkness and the sheets of rain coming down.