She alighted beside him, a woman again, and knelt to touch his face. “Syth,” she called quietly. “Syth.”
The battle still swirled around her, but she was oblivious to it as she called his name over and over and stroked his thick black hair. Only a tugolith could have so utterly crushed and ruined his handsome body. And she’d not been here to protect him! She dropped her head to his chest to listen. Was it wishful thinking, or was there a faint rhythm still to his heart?
“My Lady!” pleaded a voice nearby, and she glanced up to see a warrior from the Isle reaching out his free hand in supplication. “Autumn Lady, defend us!” he cried as a pair of Ngari’s swordsmen fell upon him.
Mar-Yilot blinked. She knew what Syth would do. Syth would help. But she was not Syth. She was Mar-Yilot, and her first and only concern was preserving her husband’s fragile hold on life. Ignoring the warrior’s pleas, she pulled a magic cloak around Syth and herself. Then she bent her head across his chest and wept with mingled fear and relief.
It snowed. Large, fluffy flakes drifted out of the sky. On the plain below, the tugoliths frolicked in excitement. Gerrig could have seen them if he’d looked over his shoulder. He and those with him had been driven near to the edge of the cliff. He had no time, though, to look at anything save the weapons that sliced toward him.
The snow made the cobbled streets slick. Between parries, he shifted his feet in search of more secure footing. All around him men were slipping. Some never had the chance to get back up. Others had already taken too many steps backward and fallen off the High Plateau. Gerrig certainly would have panicked if he’d had a chance to think about it, but he was too busy surviving to think at all. He could see Bronwynn about thirty feet in front of him. She was still mounted and still dealing misery to anyone with the temerity to challenge her. But the burst of power, the magical explosion that Gerrig and his comrades kept expecting, had still not materialized. She was proving to be a wonderful warrior, but at the moment they needed her to be much more.
Syth’s flanking attack had evidently collapsed. Mari defenders swarmed in from the right side. The top of the Down Road was also to Gerrig’s right, and a quick glance that way told him that soon the enemy would control it, cutting off any possibility of retreat. He longed for an intermission, but none was forthcoming. Suddenly the screams behind him took on a very different quality, and he looked around to see what caused the change.
He saw, yet didn’t see. Something huge and very noisy was coming around the northern rim, but it was also completely invisible. Gerrig could see the terrified warriors it was knocking over the cliff, as well as those it trampled underfoot. But he couldn’t see the beast itself. “Magic,” he gasped, and the Mari he’d been fighting grunted agreement. Gerrig glanced around to see that his opponent, too, was staring at the spectacle. He brought his sword scything around across the other man’s unprotected belly, chopping a deep gash there. Soon the cobbled street was even more slippery; but, at least for a moment, he was free. He stepped carefully toward his right to get a better view.
It had to be a tugolith. Gerrig didn’t know much about them, other than what he’d learned today. But he had heard the story of how Pelmen was almost pulled apart by a pair of these beasts and how quick wits and a smooth tongue got him free. Gerrig believed himself to be at least as quick-witted as his old acting partner, and even more loquacious. Perhaps he could turn that talent to advantage?
Certainly somebody had to do something. The cloaked monster was drawing very near. Gerrig realized he’d taken refuge in the shadow of another tugolith, the beast that had led Bronwynn up the Down Road. With a boldness born of years of facing potentially hostile audiences, Gerrig tapped Chimolitha on the hind leg. “Excuse me?” he called.
Chimolitha had been at peace until she felt this annoying tapping. She turned around to see what was causing it, very nearly crushing Gerrig in the process. “What?” she demanded, dropping one enormous eyes down to stare the player in the face.
Gerrig swallowed. Despite his own rather large size, this eye alone stretched from his waist to several inches above his head. Ft was impressive, to say the least. He smiled. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Chimolitha answered politely.
“Ah… are you on our side?” Gerrig asked.
The tugolith was puzzled. “What side?”
“The side that Queen Bronwynn is on,” Gerrig explained quickly.
“Who?”
“Queen Bronwynn! That lady there.” Gerrig pointed.
Chimolitha looked over her shoulder. “I like that lady,” she said gravely.
“Good!” Gerrig said enthusiastically. “That’s great to hear! You see that thing coming toward us?” he continued, pointing now at the invisible Thuganlitha.
Chimolitha looked in that direction. “No,” she replied honestly.
“That’s right. Of course, you don’t see it, but can’t you see what it’s doing?”
“What’s if?” Chimolitha asked, frowning. Already this conversation was well beyond her, but she kept struggling to comprehend.
“I think it’s a tugolith,” Gerrig murmured quietly. “Cloaked, of course, so there’s a powershaper involved. But it’s destroying our side! You’ve got to do something!” Indeed, the invisible beast was coming closer by the second. Gerrig’s voice reflected a trace of panic.
“What side?” the bewildered tugolith asked. She still hadn’t figured out that concept, yet this strange man kept on using it anyway.
“Our side! The friends of Queen Bronwynn! Look, that tugolith is right there! Do something!”
“Where?” Chimolitha asked, dancing with anxiety.
“Right there!” Gerrig pointed, moving away from her giant feet with no little anxiety of his own.
“I don’t see!” Chimolitha cried frantically. This stress had unnerved her.
“No! It’s invisible! But look where it’s squashing those men!”
Chimolitha stopped jumping and frowned. “That’s bad,” she grunted.
“You better believe it,” Gerrig earnestly agreed.
Chimolitha understood almost nothing of what was going on. This was a perplexing climax to what had already been a most confusing day. But one thing did make sense. Where there was bad, there was usually Thuganlitha. That was something she could deal with. “Thuganlitha?” Chimolitha trumpeted.
“Are you there?”
“Yes,” came a petulant reply out of nowhere.
“Don’t talk,” another disembodied voice commanded, and the sound of it caused Gerrig to quake in terror. Granted, he’d recognized this as the handiwork of a shaper, but what little he knew about shaping had convinced him that the magician himself would be somewhere miles away. This voice had clearly come from the hidden tugolith’s head! Gerrig swung around behind Chimolitha’s hindquarters in the hopes of not being noticed. He had courage to spare, but no one ever accused him of being foolhardy.
“Why can’t I see you?” Chim asked Thug.
“I don’t know,” Thuganlitha replied, and once again the sorcerer’s voice said:
“I told you not to talk!”
“But she asked me,” Thuganlitha explained, despite the magician’s shooshing whisper.
What Gerrig knew of magic he had learned from Yona Parmi, who’d gotten his information from Pelmen. One thing Yona had emphasized stuck now in Gerrig’s mind. A powershaper could only do one thing at a time. Whoever sat on the back of that beast was shielding himself and the tugolith from view.
As long as the shaper was busy doing that, Gerrig could feel relatively safe. That gave the player an idea.
“Thuganlitha, you are bad,” Chimolitha announced.
“I like bad,” Thug agreed pugnaciously.