The Song of Andiene - By Elisa Blaisdell Page 0,80

her plans, Andiene seemed to fret under the monotony, like the old songs of swords that were restless in their sheaths.

The constant threat of danger hung over them, even though there was no sign of the forest creatures that Andiene and Syresh knew from the songs only. No sign of anything but innocent grasskits, coursers, and hawks.

“I thought that people lived in the forest, men and women?” asked Syresh. “Where are they?”

“We follow the broad path,” Lenane said. “It is the little ones that lead to the clearings, where one may live, or a family, or a whole village.”

“How much farther to the open fields?” asked Andiene.

“Not too many more days, I would think. We have made good time, only having to retrace our steps twice.”

“I will be glad to see the sun and hear the birds sing.”

“And so will I,” said Syresh. “Still, I do not see where the danger lies in your forest. From all that we have seen, we would have been in more danger walking down a city alleyway on a star-dim night.”

“Maybe,” Lenane said. “But the danger of the forest is swift and sudden, and no man may defend utterly against it.” Her voice rang as though she were quoting, from the Law of the Forest, perhaps.

They walked on, through the green underwater forest light. It was a never-changing scene, or so Syresh thought. Only the safehold clearings gave a pleasant change, the sight of clear water and bright flowers.

“Look,” said Lenane, and she pointed to a low-hanging bough. Syresh shook his head, seeing nothing. “Blind! See the edge, the golden line of death on the edge of the leaf. Summer will be upon us soon. It comes swift and cruel in the forest, and path and forest are made the same. We are leaving it just in time.”

“Good that there is always water where the safeholds are. We have not gone thirsty.”

“The streams make paths of their own, though we cannot follow them,” Lenane said, as if she were speaking to a tiny child. “The safeholds are strung on them like beads on a string.”

Syresh looked at her and said nothing. She was a commoner and a thief. For one who ought to have walked meek and silent among her betters, she had a saucy tongue and arrogant way. Still, he wished that he had not shown his resentment as clearly. Clever and pretty, she would have made a pleasant traveling companion, if matters had not begun so badly.

He watched her as she stiffened, suddenly alert. “Listen!” They were quiet and still. The air throbbed with a faint sound, almost like a man sobbing.

“Where is it?”

“Behind us,” Syresh said.

“Then we are cut off from shelter. Run!”

Syresh stared stupidly at her. Andiene laughed, and her face lit up with excitement. “Here is my chance to do something worth the doing!”

Lenane looked at her in incomprehension. “Run!” she shrieked. Behind them, the sound grew louder, a deep-throated mockery of human sorrow. Then they ran, and ran in earnest.

No sign of the shelter they needed, the safehold. No time to wonder what hunted them. No time to wonder how it could hunt in daytime when the forest paths should have been warded against evil.

The sobbing lost its note of grief as it grew louder. Laughter echoed around them, hollow as a madman’s laugh might be. They entered a long stretch of straight path, a half-clearing. Syresh glanced backwards, and saw the first rust-red hound lope out of the shadows, lean and thin as a symbol of death itself.

“No use,” he gasped. “Let us make a stand, and take some with us.” More of the hell-hounds poured out of the shadows, falling silent as they saw their prey. “Lady, whatever powers you have, use them now,” he said to Andiene, in desperate hope. Then there was no more time for talking.

The leader sprang at him. He stabbed at it, shook it off his sword to the ground. These were mortal creatures, at least. The next ones did not slacken their pace. They flew at his throat from opposite sides. Frantically, he cut at one with his sword, drove his dagger deep into the other’s chest. Teeth slid down his sleeve harmlessly as the body fell to the ground.

The three of them, Andiene, Syresh, and Lenane, formed a circle, to guard their backs the best they could. What Andiene was doing Syresh did not know, but he trusted her to defend herself. Lenane was the weak link, he thought.