‘I’ve never seen a rat with eyes like those,’ Jenna snapped viciously. ‘Nor that size.’
‘Peace!’ said Hawklan angrily before Tirke could reply. ‘It’s not that important what they were. Let’s bend our minds to Yrain’s problem. What do we do if we run into them when we’re fully loaded with packs and moving along that tunnel tomorrow?’
He walked across to the tunnel, peered casually into it and then turned to look along the route the creatures had taken.
Dar-volci chattered his teeth. ‘It mightn’t matter what they were,’ he said. ‘But what they were doing might.’
‘Why?’ Hawklan said. ‘That was probably a feeding frenzy or a mating frenzy, or something.’
Dar-volci made a disparaging noise. ‘They were running away,’ he said categorically.
Hawklan looked at him doubtfully. ‘Running away?’ he said. ‘From what?’ He stepped forward.
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth than two long arms swept out of the tunnel mouth, and grasping three-fingered claws snapped together where he had been standing.
Hawklan spun round at the sound in time to see a large triangular head surging towards him. He had a fleeting impression of large bulbous eyes focusing on him and two waving antennae, but dominating his attention was a wide gaping mouth which split the head in two with a grotesque and malevolent grin.
He jumped backwards to avoid the apparition but as he did so, one of the creature’s misshapen arms struck him a glancing blow and sent him sprawling.
The black sword clattered out of his hand.
He became aware of a great commotion as screams and shouts rose up to fill the cavern. Vaguely, at the edge of his awareness, he sensed his companions rushing to his aid, but the two arms, obscenely articu-lated, were drawing back to strike again.
Gavor came from nowhere and struck the great head, but it tossed him aside effortlessly.
A large rock hit one of the poised arms with great force.
Isloman! Only Isloman could have thrown such a rock so hard.
But it too bounced off ineffectually, and the crea-ture’s eyes did not flicker by even a fraction from their intended prey. Somehow Hawklan jerked himself backwards as the arms lunged at him. He was not fast enough however and he heard himself cry out as the two clawed hands closed painfully about his body.
Worse than the pain though, was the terrible strength of the arms and the casual, callous, indifference of the creature’s feeding intent as the arms drew him rapidly forward. Somewhere his name was shouted, and the black sword was thrust into his hands as his feet left the floor.
Without thought, he swung the blade down and struck the creature on the centre of its head.
The impact of the massive blow shook through his entire frame, and the creature too paused momentarily but, to his horror, Hawklan saw that the great black sword of Ethriss had done virtually no harm to the strange head.
The creature was still whole, and still intent on its simple resolve.
He felt the arms bracing to draw him further for-ward.
Suddenly everywhere was filled with a blinding light. A torch at full brightness, Hawklan thought irrelevantly as his eyes screwed up reflexively. The creature emitted an eerie screech and great membranes flickered over its bulbous eyes. Hawklan felt its arms grow slacker, but its grip did not change.
He sensed the creature preparing to flee-with him!
Desperately he swung the sword at one of the arms, but again it had little effect. Then, through the bril-liance, he saw Dar-volci, his back legs swinging free and his fore-claws clinging to the creature’s arm. Almost before Hawklan could register the fact, the felci’s mouth opened wide and his formidable teeth closed around the creature’s bony wrist.
Even through the clamorous din of his own terror, Hawklan heard the fearful crunching of bones.
The creature let out another screech then, abruptly, released him. As he hit the ground, Hawklan was bowled over by the creature as it charged forward.
He was aware of rolling across the rocky floor for some way and of legs and a long torso passing over him, then the brightness faded and all that was left were the fading cries of the fleeing creature.
A circle of anxious and fearful faces formed around him, chief amongst which was a businesslike Andawyr, Gavor flapping on his shoulder.
‘Don’t move him!’ Hawklan heard Andawyr say, the voice distant, buried somewhere beneath the noise of his own breathing.
Bright eyes peered into his intently, and expert hands probed his ribs. He winced. The eyes looked again, and the hands tested his arms and legs. He recognized the technique.
‘I’m all right,’ he said, weakly, trying to rise.
Andawyr’s hand held him down. ‘You’re all right,’ he said, waving aside the patient’s own correct diagnosis as being merely fortuitous. ‘Pick him up gently and put him in the shelter.’
‘No,’ Hawklan said, with an effort. ‘Just help me up.’
Andawyr seemed inclined to dispute this, his face assuming a wearied ‘healers make bad patients’ expression.
‘Please,’ Hawklan said, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, Andawyr’s eyes flicked their permission around the watching circle, and Hawklan was hauled gently to his feet. Gavor alighted softly on his shoulder and he reached up to touch the raven’s beak. Pausing for a moment to test his balance, he ran his hands over his ribs.
‘Just bruised?’ he said, grimacing as he looked at Andawyr.
The Cadwanwr nodded. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘You were lucky.’
‘I’ve been luckier,’ Hawklan replied sourly as he started moving gingerly towards the shelter. He looked round at his companions. ‘Was anyone else hurt?’ he asked.
There was a general shaking of heads. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘It seems we were all lucky. Alphraan, were any of you hurt?’
‘No,’ came the disembodied reply after a brief but alarming delay. ‘We are well.’
Hawklan frowned unhappily. ‘Will you not join us, after all, Alphraan?’ he said. ‘Such as I’ve seen, you’re small and fragile, and I fear for you with such creatures about.’
A shimmer of grateful amusement twinkled through the small cavern. ‘We cannot join you, Hawklan,’ said the voice. ‘But have no fear for us. We already walk under your protection, and we are not as fragile as we were when you cleansed our Heartplace, by any means.’
Hawklan looked around the cavern for a moment until his gaze fell on Dar-volci. The felci did not speak, but his manner said, ‘Accept them as they are, healer.’
Hawklan shrugged resignedly. ‘Whatever you wish, my friends,’ he said.
Then he held out his hand to Dar-volci. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know… ’
‘Hawklan, look.’ Unusually, the interruption came from Jaldaric, and there was a note in his voice that made Hawklan stop and turn to him immediately. The Fyordyn was holding out the black sword to him, his finger pointing to its edge.
Hawklan took the sword and lifted the blade closer to his face to examine where Jaldaric was indicating. The edge had been blunted! The edge which had destroyed the Vrwystin a Kaethio at the Gretmearc, cut down Mandrocs in Orthlund, slain one of Sumeral’s ancient creatures under the mountains, done service against the Morlider, and yet would still part a falling hair without disturbing its downward, floating, progress, had been turned by a single blow against this strange dweller in this strange world.
He showed it to Andawyr.
The Cadwanwr looked shocked at first, then he grimaced and gazed around the cavern. ‘Too old,’ he muttered. ‘I never dreamt… ’ He left the sentence unfinished and turned to look at Dar-volci enigmati-cally. ‘How did your teeth cut through that creature’s bones where this blade failed?’ he asked.
Dar-volci stood on his hind legs and scratched his stomach idly, then he put a large pebble into his mouth. Various among the watchers put their hands to their ears to avoid the teeth clenching crack as he crushed it with gleeful relish.
‘It’s just a knack we have,’ he said, spitting out fragments. ‘We learnt it a long time ago.’