The Garden of Stones - By Mark T. Barnes Page 0,119

what had been ransacked here and there. They walked like Humans, though slightly hunched, and stood as tall as adolescent Avān. Their hands and feet were long, tipped with claws. They were large eyed and long nosed, the hair on their heads dyed in bright reds, yellows, and greens, upright as the bristles on an old horse brush.

At their forefront was a larger Fenling, almost the size of an Avān near adulthood. She wore a necklace of chisel teeth. Bracelets of Fenling claws rattled on her wrists. Her armor appeared to be in slightly better condition than that of her band, and her half helm boasted two curved horns and a plume of rainbow-hued feathers. She gave out a high-pitched squeal as she shook her spear and slender javelins over her head. Her band followed suit. The awful racket raised Indris’s hackles.

Belamandris glided out with all the assurance of a master swordsman, Tragedy hanging from the weapon belt about his narrow waist. He eyed the newcomers briefly, expression slightly amused. Neither Belamandris nor Thufan drew too close to the wild-looking rat-folk. The Fenlings were known carriers of disease, and wounds from their chisel teeth and claws were prone to turn septic. Indris had seen warriors perish, muscles cramped, bodies drenched with fever sweat, from what had appeared to be inconsequential scratches.

Thufan jerked his thumb at the windmill. He said something that caused the war-leader to give the rapid, chittering giggle that passed for Fenling laughter.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Indris asked Shar. Though they could both understand Fenling, Shar had much better hearing than he did.

“It appears she and Thufan know each other,” Shar observed. “She’s called Kapik, leader of the war-band. She serves somebody called Skavi, a shaman. Thufan said he’s brought the tithe of…Well, it seems there was a reason they brought ten men with them. She’s here to take them the rest of the way to…I didn’t understand that last. The black star circle? Thufan has thanked her for the escort. He just complained about the Rōmarq and the tithe he already had to pay the marsh-puppeteers—”

“Malegangers.”

“Do you want to me to translate or interpret?” she said in exasperation. “Dien hir yahoiya.”

“If I could do it myself, I’d not have asked you.”

“They’d said nothing important,” Shar continued. The Fenlings raised their voices in their chittering, squeaking language. The Avān spoke again. “Wait…Kapik has asked why Thufan and his friends killed the puppeteers, to which Thufan replied he didn’t. Kapik doesn’t believe him. She says the puppeteers were allies. They guard the ways into Fenling lands, for a price. The deaths of the puppeteers will cause problems.”

“I’ve a mind this could get a little rowdy,” Hayden whispered. His hands tightened on the stock of his bolt-rifle. “If they figure we’re in these parts…”

“Let’s hope they don’t conjure anything of the sort,” Indris muttered.

Voices suddenly were raised in shouts, and Indris could hear what was being said. The Fenlings prowled about in agitation, noses twitching.

“Not coming.” Thufan shook his head.

“You come now, kay!” Kapik jabbed her spear toward Thufan’s chest. She then pointed it at the windmill. “We take meat. We take you, but you is safe. Not like meat.” She squeak-giggled. The others repeated the sharp chitter for meat, over and over. Indris felt nauseous.

“We know the way,” Thufan insisted. His hand strayed to the hilt of the sword at his hip. He tapped his hook against his thigh. Belamandris remained where he was, a deceptively casual smile on his lean face.

“We take you. Then no more trouble. You hear, smoothskin?” The other Fenlings surged forward, their voices urgent, spears and javelins rattling in their long-fingered hands. “We let you come into tribe lands. Might not let you leave. Might take all smoothskins. Lots of meat on smoothskins…”

“Fine,” Thufan reluctantly agreed after a few quiet words with Belamandris. “We’ll come with you. Take what you’re owed.”

The giant rat-woman squeaked a command to her warriors, who bolted toward the windmill. Shouts came from inside. The sound of blows. Soon, the Fenlings exited carrying the bound bodies of the four other men Thufan had brought with him. Others carried the supplies, as well as the box that Indris presumed contained the Angothic Spirit Casque.

Thufan lit a lantern, then he and Belamandris joined the Fenlings as they walked back into the night. Indris and the others waited for several more minutes. They listened intently for anything, even the slightest sound that would indicate the Fenlings were on their way back.