‘I know about as much about women as I do about being regent,’ said Gilwyn. The turn in the conversation ruined his appetite. ‘I just think you should stop hiding, that’s all. Maybe being able to disappear isn’t such a good thing.’
Ghost took a moment to eat, considering Gilwyn’s words and falling back into his usual quietness. Gilwyn glanced down at his plate, sure he had said too much. As he raised his head to apologise, he saw something odd rising behind the albino. He stared at it, thinking it the drowa. .
Gilwyn tossed his plate aside, shouting and reaching for Ghost. He grabbed the Inhuman and dragged him forward just as the thing plunged forward. A great blur of snakeskin and shadow collided with the fire, scattering embers like fireworks. Gilwyn scrambled to get away, fumbling to pull Ghost to safety.
‘Rass!’ he shouted. ‘Run!’
Ghost was on his feet in an instant, diving for his sword. The huge shadow rose up over the darkened camp, its hissing tongue tasting the air. Gilwyn rolled from the fire, the rain of embers catching his hair and skin. His clubfoot twisted in the sand as he struggled upward. He had no weapon. The gigantic cobra fixed him in its lidless gaze.
He needed to run but couldn’t. Ghost cried out and waved his sword.
‘Here, monster!’ he sneered. He lunged, slashing the beast then quickly falling back, trying to draw the rass away. Annoyed, the snake coiled quickly to face him.
‘Disappear!’ Gilwyn cried.
Ghost backpedalled. ‘I can’t! It’ll see me!’
It was a trick for human minds, Gilwyn realised suddenly. Ghost was helpless. Gilwyn reached down and found his frying pan in the sand. With all his might he winged it at the creature’s hood. Again the monster turned to face him.
It wants food. .
The realisation struck him squarely. Suddenly he was in the beast’s skin, just as he’d been in Emerald’s and the other kreels. He focused, standing very still, penetrating the black eyes of the serpent, reaching deep into its primeval brain.
No food. Danger here!
The rass wavered, its wide hood blocking out the moon. Watching Gilwyn, its eyes grew distant. Gilwyn knew the beast could hear him. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he fought to hold the thing in sway.
‘Get out of here!’ Ghost shouted. ‘Run, for Fate’s sake!’
Slowly, Gilwyn raised his hands, opening his palms as if to calm the creature and hoping Ghost understood his gesture. Vaguely he could see the Inhuman backing up, shaking his head in confusion.
‘I’m all right,’ he said, his voice trancelike. ‘Ghost, keep stepping back. Be ready. .’
‘Ready? For what?’
Gilwyn couldn’t answer. All his mind-power focused on the task. His body started shaking. Carefully he split his thoughts, sending out a tiny tremor to Emerald.
No food, he told the rass. Leave here. .
But the rass would not go. Gilwyn dipped deeper into its fearsome mind, picking his way through the primitive urges, searching for something — anything — to scare the creature. He could feel Emerald, too, very near and closing fast. The kreel had sensed his need.
Kreels are coming, he told the rass. His heart beat like thunder as he stared into the snake’s fanged maw. A dizzying ache split his skull. Kreels. .
Then, like a giant’s angry fist, Emerald exploded over the dune. Claws bared, she howled and collided with the mesmerised rass, raking her knifelike nails against its underbelly and burying her teeth into its face. The two reptiles tumbled in the darkness, showering the camp with sand. The tail of the rass whipped around to seize the kreel, wrapping as it tumbled, working its way along Emerald’s bulging body. A spray of blood struck Gilwyn’s face. Dazed, he fell back just as Ghost tossed himself into the melee. Sword flashing, the albino slashed the snake’s leathery skin. Emerald gave an angry hiss, burying her snout into the rass’ hood and ripping out a great chunk. Her claws worked like those of a digging dog, spilling guts from the rass’ ruined belly. With a mighty shudder, the snake rose up and shook off its attackers. It stared at Gilwyn, seized by disbelief.
Then fell like timber.
Ghost collapsed to his knees. Emerald sniffed at the beast’s twitching body. And Gilwyn, so exhausted he could barely stand, sent his kreel his silent thanks. The camp lay ruined. But all was blessedly silent. Ghost stuck his sword straight up in the sand.
‘Gilwyn,’ he gasped, ‘next time you send your kreel hunting, try keeping her a bit closer.’
By morning the next day, Gilwyn knew they were close to the kreel valley.
They had abandoned their camp after the rass attack, travelling by moonlight for an hour until Gilwyn found a place he felt sure was free of rass. Now that he had encountered one and sensed its mind, he knew what the creatures felt like and how to avoid them, a trick which Ghost reminded him would have been a lot handier had it been discovered an hour earlier. After a restless night’s sleep, they awoke at dawn and quickly took to travelling. The drowa seemed particularly pleased to see the sun again, though all of them, even Emerald, were grateful for the light.
The morning had been wonderfully uneventful. They had not encountered a single trouble, not even a scorpion. By desert standards, it was even cool. Gilwyn took the lead as they rode, using his mind to search out the valley, sure that they were getting close. All around the sands had given way to hard earth, sprouting with hearty greenery and rocks. Miraculously, they had found a fruit tree defiantly growing between the cracks in a gigantic boulder. Ghost had climbed up the rock and brought down a bounty of the tangy citrus, which he called goak and rightfully claimed was delicious. The fresh fruit replenished them, and both young men had smiles on their faces as they rode the last few miles to the valley.
At last, Gilwyn knew they had arrived. They were at the base of a tall, meandering hillside, slightly inclined and shadowed with bush and rocks. He brought Emerald to a stop. Over the hill he could feel the kreels. In his brain their voices bloomed like the laughter of children.
‘We’re here,’ he declared. ‘Over that ridge.’
Emerald bridled, excited as she too sensed her own kind. Ghost surveyed the hillside. It posed no problem at all for his drowa. The albino grinned.
‘I’m actually nervous,’ he confessed. ‘How many are there, Gilwyn?’
‘What, kreels?’ Gilwyn concentrated. The feeling was staggering. ‘A lot.’
‘I have another question — just how to you expect to get them out of the valley? You haven’t told me that yet.’
Gilwyn shrugged. ‘I’ll ask them to come with us.’
‘Really. Just like that?’
‘Yes,’ Gilwyn replied. ‘Just like that. Come on.’
With a gentle nudge he guided Emerald up the hill, waving at Ghost to follow. The young man grimaced, still stunned by his answer, then proceeded up the hill after him. His sure-footed drowa followed Emerald easily, bouncing up and down as it walked. Gilwyn supposed the ridge was fifty feet high, no problem at all for Emerald, who quickly took him to the top of the incline. There, the kreel stopped. At the crest of the hill Gilwyn looked out over the valley.
Below him, a bountiful, untouched world stretched for miles. He could see a river in the distance and clouds beyond the river. Far-off mountains glowed a dusty purple. A cool breeze blew up from the valley, sheltered by the surrounding hills that kept the land in shadows. Jagged rocks and slopes rested among glades of trees, restfully soaking up the sunrays bathing the valley. Gilwyn heard birdsong — the first time in days — and saw the rush of movement in the tall, amber grasses. Concentrating, he felt the full life of the valley and its teeming population, not just the kreels but the hawks and grasshoppers too. Gazing out toward the river, he could just barely see the packs of kreels moving along the bank, warming their colourful, scaled bodies in the sun. Emerald rumbled beneath him, a sound of enormous pleasure. She hadn’t come from the valley — she had been born in Jador — yet the sense of homecoming in her startled Gilwyn.