Dar-volci clicked his teeth and shook his head. ‘You know what we tell you,’ he said. ‘His creatures were the last straw. Drove us into the society of humans for our protection.’
There was a bitterness in his voice that made An-dawyr wince. ‘Has that been so unpleasant for you?’ he asked, his tone genuinely injured.
Dar-volci did not answer at first, but seemed to be occupied again with troubling memories.
‘We lived in the deeplands for a reason,’ he said almost off-handedly. ‘And it served us.’ Then, apologeti-cally, ‘But we’re all of us different now. And none of us would have chosen finer companions than your many brothers through the ages.’
He wriggled off Yrain’s lap and began trotting off into the darkness.
‘Dar,’ Hawklan cried. ‘Where are you going? Finish your tale. Why did you do this?’ He held out Yrain’s bandaged hand.
The felci turned and stood on his hind legs, extend-ing his tail as a counter-balance. ‘She knows,’ he said nodding to Yrain, and idly scratching his stomach. ‘The pain alone was reason enough.’
Hawklan looked at Yrain, who nodded. ‘But… ’
‘No buts, Hawklan,’ said Dar-volci dropping back on to all-fours and walking off into the darkness. ‘Be content that I recognized them and that you escaped them with so little hurt. Trust me. You don’t want to know anything else about what the sphrite do to your kind.’
Hawklan made to stand up, but Andawyr laid a hand on his arm. ‘Leave him,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen him like this. He’s had some massive shock; something we can’t begin to understand. Let’s take his advice and be glad he was with us, whatever it is those things do.’
Hawklan stared into the darkness after the felci, then, reluctantly, nodded.
Andawyr took Yrain’s bandaged hand from him and examined it professionally. ‘Neatly done, healer,’ he pronounced eventually, his tone bringing some normality back to the scene. ‘But you’re no great weaver yet.’
‘Let’s move,’ Hawklan said tersely.
For the rest of that day, they walked through tunnels and caverns such as they had encountered previously, Andawyr again leading them with at least a superficial confidence.
Dar-volci returned to them after a while, seemingly his old self, though he would occasionally pick up a pebble or a small rock and crunch it in his jaws with a sound that soon began to draw groans of agonized protest from everyone.
Nevertheless, for all that their progress seemed to be good, Hawklan still sensed a strangeness about the place that he could not define; and distant sounds still came to them through the echoing tunnels.
Towards what they felt to be evening, they came to a small chamber with a single exit, which a brief explora-tion by Dar-volci confirmed was going upwards quite steeply for some considerable distance.
The prospect of moving upwards again brought the first smiles to the group for some time.
‘We’ll make camp here,’ Hawklan said. ‘It’s been a strange day amongst strange days and Yrain needs to rest. She’s in pain, and still shocked.’
He waved aside Yrain’s protests before they formed. ‘That’s an order, Helyadin,’ he said. ‘We can use the extra rest to check all our supplies and make sure that your journal accounts are made up correctly.’
As the others erected the shelter, Isloman wandered around the chamber pensively, touching the walls.
Hawklan joined him. ‘This is natural, surely?’ he said softly, looking around at the uneven walls and roof.
Isloman nodded hesitantly and took Hawklan over to the entrance to the tunnel they were intending to use the following day.
‘There are some strange marks here,’ he said. ‘Look.’
He bent down and brought his torch close to the floor. Its light revealed a mass of scratches scarring the floor. Some were quite deep and long, but the majority were shallow and short. All of them were running roughly parallel with the direction of the tunnel.
‘There are some on the walls and ceiling too, but not as many,’ Isloman said.
Hawklan ran his finger along one of the scratches and shrugged. ‘They mean nothing to me,’ he said. ‘What do you think they are?’
Isloman shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them,’ he said. ‘They’re not chisel marks for sure, and some of them are quite new.’
Hawklan stood up and peered into the gloom of the tunnel. ‘I think we’ll post a watch tonight,’ he said. ‘We’ve been far from alone for a large part of this journey and after those sphrite, I don’t think we should risk being caught unawares again.’
‘Yes,’ Isloman said.
No one disputed Hawklan’s decision, but it was not received with any great enthusiasm. The caves were still very cold, and while this was tolerable when walking, it was not conducive to standing about idly for any length of time.
Tybek won the first watch as a result of a highly suspect drawing of lots that Tirke organized. Jenna drew the second.
Eventually, all tasks completed, Tybek, with a men-acing gesture towards an innocent-looking Tirke, left the shelter, and one by one the others fell asleep.
Hawklan, however, found some difficulty in catch-ing his sleep. After a little tossing and turning, he lay back and, relaxing, stared up at the roof of the shelter, dimly lit by the radiant stones. Yrain too, was a little restless, turning over frequently, and muttering in her sleep, and Hawklan knew that his own wakefulness was in response to her continuing distress at her sudden, explosive, mutilation-and whatever unknown torment her brief contact with the sphrite had brought her.
He dozed fitfully, waking occasionally for no appar-ent reason, sometimes drowsily, sometimes with a start.
He was vaguely aware of Tybek rousing Jenna, and the change in the weight of the measured tread outside the shelter as the young woman took over.
Then he was lying somewhere in Orthlund, breath-ing in the cool air and looking into the soft light of a burgeoning summer dawn. Outside, the wind was rustling through the trees, and someone was knocking at his door, and calling his name.
Urgently!
He was not in Orthlund! He was…
The knocking was coming from outside.
It was Jenna. She was banging frantically on the shelter and shouting, ‘Hawklan, Hawklan!’
Suddenly wide awake, Hawklan seized his sword and a torch and stepping nimbly over his wakening companions, moved to the entrance.
Outside the shelter, Jenna was standing with her sword drawn, peering into the darkness. Echoing round the cave was the strange hissing that had intruded into Hawklan’s dream. It was growing steadily louder.
‘It started a few minutes ago,’ Jenna said. ‘It’s com-ing from the tunnel.’
Hawklan strode forward to the mouth of the tunnel. The noise was indeed markedly louder there. He pointed the torch into the darkness.
At first, it showed him only the upward sloping floor, but then, somewhere beyond its apparent reach, a jostling mass of red, glinting eyes blinked into life.
Chapter 24
The galloping hooves threw up great showers of melting snow as the horsemen rode down the hill. At the bottom, they slowed as the road turned sharply to lead them into the village.
The single street that wound through it was de-serted, the drizzling rain keeping everyone indoors who had matters to attend to that could safely be left for a day or so.
The riders halted and held a brief, arm-waving, discussion. Then, with a snort of annoyance, the leader swung down from his horse, strode up the short path of a nearby house, and banged urgently on the door. A small patch of snow on the roof gave up the uneven struggle against winter’s demise and slid down suddenly to land noisily on the wet ground a pace or so away from the man.
He turned to look at it, then stepped into the shelter of the doorway. As he did so, the door opened suddenly to reveal a large man. He was leaning with his left hand on the door frame and his right behind the half-opened door.
He peered intently into the hood of his visitor then seemed to become more relaxed in his manner. The rider spoke and the man nodded and then, ushering the rider forward, he stepped out with him into the rain.