Part 1 (2/2)

Looking out across the plain, Myranda saw a thin, spa.r.s.ely wooded area off in the distance. It was a bit less than half of the way between herself and the edge of Ravenwood, the ma.s.sive western forest that was still visible at the base of the mountains on the horizon. The dangling tooth pointed her to the trees as they rustled with a stiff and constant breeze in the distance. Thus, she proceeded in that direction, carefully scanning for anyone who might spot her. For once she was glad that the plains of the north were almost deserted. She hurried across the field as quickly as she could. As she did, she wondered why no roads led through this plain. There were at least five small towns nearby, yet the nearest road ran far to the west and circled completely around the plain to reach the furthest of the towns. A second road through this place would cut the travel time in half.

Myn seemed distracted. The slowly strengthening wind carried either the scent of Lain or something else, and it was making her anxious. When they reached the trees, Myranda noticed a handful of small brown creatures scurrying across the ground. Suddenly Myn froze. Myranda began to ask what might be the matter, but her voice caught in her throat when she realized the source of her friend's concern. There was not merely a handful of the little creatures. Behind them there were dozens, perhaps a hundred. Each had the small size and long body of a weasel, but their eyes seemed absent, with slight indentations where they ought to be. They had six legs, each tipped with a trio of short, stout, cruel looking claws. There were cl.u.s.ters of them, sniffing madly at the ground around her footprints.

The pair was surrounded by the things, and more were popping out of scattered burrows by the moment. As they each sniffed the air, row after row of needle sharp teeth were bared in anger. They did not like the scent of the intruder. The creatures approached one at a time. Myn tried to frighten them off, but as she pounced at them they scattered, keeping just out of her reach. In moments the two of them were completely surrounded. A chill of fear ran up and down Myranda's spine as she held her staff ready. She decided a spell of fire would hold them at bay, but she would need a minute or two to produce enough of it to protect her, while the fear burning at her mind increased that time greatly.

”Myn, fire!” she cried.

Myn tried to obey, but somehow the things with no eyes were able to avoid the flames, only a few getting even remotely singed. The creatures were swarming about Myranda's legs. With no spells swift or safe enough to ward them off now, she swatted at them with the staff, knocking a few away. Just as the first of them sunk its teeth into the girl's leg, there came a piercing whistle. The small creatures scattered. An instant later, blanket about the young woman's shoulders was torn from her back. Turning quickly to discover the culprit, she found Lain, dressed in the black tunic of Entwell, holding his white cloak in one hand and her brown blanket in the other.

”You!” she cried furiously.

Myn scampered to him leapt about joyfully.

”Pick her up,” he ordered.

Before Myranda could object, Myn obligingly leapt into Myranda's arms. Lain threw his cloak about her shoulders and hurled her blanket into the ma.s.s of creatures who were already beginning to venture closer. The very moment that the blanket landed, the creatures converged on it, tearing it to ribbons.

”Quickly, this way. And do not speak until I tell you,” he said.

The pair moved quickly to a more thickly wooded bit of the field. Every few moments Lain would cast a glance at the chaotic frenzy behind them. When a handful of the furry creatures stood on their hindmost legs and sampled the air, only to turn away and return from whence they came, Lain broke the silence.

”You should have stayed in Entwell. You were there for your protection,” he said.

”For safe keeping, you mean. So that you could go about your murder without fear of anyone else claiming my ransom,” she said.

”Yes,” he said.

Myranda was given pause by the frankness of his answer.

”So, what n.o.ble plans have you got that are more important than ending the war?” she asked.

”I must resupply and meet with my partner. The Elites will have been busy. It will take time to rebuild,” he said.

”I cannot say that I am sorry to hear it. You deserve every hards.h.i.+p and misfortune that this world has to give until you turn yourself to your proper task,” she said.

Lain weathered the a.s.sault in stoic silence. Somehow, Myranda could not bring herself to continue to give him the berating she felt he deserved.

”Thank you, by the way,” she said, her voice still stern.

Lain grunted in reply.

”What were those things?” she asked.

”Oloes. They will attack, kill, and consume any creature with an unfamiliar scent or sound,” he said.

”Then why didn't a single olo pay any attention to you?” she asked.

”My scent is familiar,” he said.

They continued until they reached a tall, st.u.r.dy pine. Lain looked over the roots. In several places they looped up above ground. After close inspection of one root in particular, he grasped it, put one foot against the tree, and pulled with all of his might. Slowly, not just the root but a square section of ground began to tip up. He pulled and strained until the square, now clearly a thick wooden trapdoor with a few inches of soil disguising it, stood on end. He then crouched low to the ground and carefully reached his hand inside, feeling at the walls. Myranda peered inside. The pale light that made it through the thick clouds did not penetrate far into the darkness. When Lain found what it was he had been probing for, a soft click could be heard from within the hole that prompted him to quickly pull his arm free. A blade swiped across the shaft, and the swis.h.i.+ng sound and puff of air from the door hinted at many more that had gone unseen.

”Put her down. This is the place,” he said.

”After those blades nearly robbed you of your arm you are going inside?” she said.

”Yes. And once the oloes get a whiff of the blood trickling down your leg it is going to take more than a loud whistle to scare them off,” he said.

Myranda had forgotten about the creature that had managed to bite her. She did not relish the thought of facing those things again. Reluctantly, she looked into the hole. Myn hopped to the ground and peered in curiously as well. Myranda searched for a ladder of some sort built into the walls but found none. She lowered her bag down an arm's length and dropped it. From the sound, there was not much of a drop. She lowered her legs and slid into the opening, dangling for a moment by her fingertips before dropping a foot or two to a solid surface in the darkness below. Her eyes had only just begun to adjust when a light flashed in front of her. She scrambled back to the bag at the base of the opening and pulled out her staff, turning back in time for a second spark. This one lingered, as a lamp flickered to life, casting light on the room.

It was a small room. The walls were made of stone blocks, while the low ceiling was made of wood with thick planks running across its length. Placed regularly through the room were st.u.r.dy support beams. There were heavy doors on three walls. The lamp was in the hands of a man standing in the open doorway opposite the entrance shaft. Its flickering yellow light fell upon a face with a look of confused recognition, a look that Myranda no doubt shared, as this was not precisely a stranger. After a moment of searching through crowded memories, each spoke the name of the other simultaneously.

”Desmeres?” she said.

”Myranda?” spoke the man.

Indeed it was the odd fellow she had briefly met in a tavern when this great journey had only just begun. His youthful face, wild white hair, and expensive attire were unmistakable.

”I can't say I expected to see you here,” he said.

Myn, hearing the voices within, darted down into the room and planted herself between Myranda and the potential threat. Desmeres took a step back.

”Well, now! That is yours, I trust!” he said, eying the intruding creature with amus.e.m.e.nt.

”Yes, yes. This is Myn,” Myranda answered, eager to get it out of the way and have her own questions answered. ”What are you doing here?”

”Well, for the time being, this is my home. A more appropriate question would be what are you doing here?” he countered.

Before she could answer, Lain dropped down. Desmeres glanced up, this time with recognition unmarred by confusion.

”L-L-L-L-Leo, right? Good lord it has been ages! How has Sasha been treating you?” he said as though speaking with an old friend.

”Taken,” he said.

”No! By who?” Desmeres said, dismayed.

”The Elites,” he answered.

”Oh. I thought I'd never see the day,” he said. ”I trust she served well? A masterpiece, that one. She was silent when you needed her to be, but when she wanted to she could sing. Shame on you for losing her. You'd better figure out how to get her back before they squeeze any secrets out of her, because if I--”

”Wait! What is going on here?” Myranda asked.

”I am catching up with my friend Leo,” Desmeres said.

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