Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,147

in a more gracious climate.

Februaren did not raise the subject. Iron Eyes would admit nothing.

Allies need not share every secret.

Iron Eyes said, “It’s too late for me to pick something else to be. This is your world. Have you ever seen so many wolves in one place?”

“No. I can’t imagine a pack numbering sixty or seventy.”

“Definitely not natural.”

There were seventeen dead wolves. Injured animals disappeared into the wood. The rest remained out of range but watchful. Respectfully opportunistic.

Heris said, “That’s not natural, either. And they aren’t interested in us because they’re hungry.”

The wolves all radiated health. They were well fed and well groomed.

Februaren asked, “What next?”

Iron Eyes said, “We go kick the door in and yell, ‘Surprise!’”

“That does sound like fun. Heris and I will be right behind you.”

Iron Eyes awarded the old man a narrow-eyed, sour, almost suspicious scowl. But he got his people moving. The crows raged in protest but kept their distance. Death came suddenly when a bird ranged too near the Aelen Kofer.

Likewise, the wolves. Awaiting their chance.

The bolt from an Aelen Kofer crossbow moved so fast you might only note a flicker before it hit you.

A grim, gray little castle lay at the heart of the wood. It looked deserted. Its drawbridge was down and had been for so long that weeds had crept in over its edges. The moat was turgid but the water did move. Barely. It was not frozen, nor was it more than two feet deep, but it was thick. The bottom was foul, loose mud that went down at least that much farther.

The surface of the drawbridge boasted dried leaves, a few dried weeds that had grown between the timbers, and several dangerous patches of ice. Around it, for thirty feet, lay a scatter of human bones.

Iron Eyes grumbled. “Those bones. I remember. Did you plan to remind me before … What?” The crows had gotten excited.

Two elderly men had appeared on the drawbridge. One carried a rusty old bill, the other a lance that had seen its best days centuries ago. They lacked no confidence. They prepared to hold the bridge.

Iron Eyes muttered something about mercy for the mad. But he did not get carried away. “Shift them without hurting them. If they won’t be shifted, make them a feast for wolves and crows.”

The latter were in the air, excited.

Iron Eyes had used the dwarf language. The old men heard. They seemed amazed. Then decided they were overmatched after all. They went back inside, pursued by the derision of crows.

The entrance loomed dark as a fathomless cave.

Iron Eyes again asked, “You were going to keep me from marching straight in, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. On the other hand, it might be instructive to see how Aelen Kofer mail stands up to a falcon’s bite.”

The old man was guessing, based on Piper’s speculations. Layers of hearsay and imagination could be hiding something but it seemed most reasonable to suspect the presence of firepowder weapons. Which he had explained to Iron Eyes when the expedition was forming. “You see any unusual bones around here?”

“I see a lot that are busted up strange. You mean the striped creature? Like the ones that tried to invade the Realm of the Gods?”

“Yes.”

“They don’t look so different with the meat off.”

“Extra fingers and toes.”

“There’s that. But the small bones are scattered, probably for miles. But sometimes theirs are black. Don’t ask why. We found out getting rid of the ones we dealt with before. How should we do this? Can you just pop inside?”

“No. I don’t know what I’d be jumping into. There might be spells to make me unhappy. But I could get up on the wall … Girl!”

* * *

Heris turned, perched amongst panicky crows, looked down, turned again to rejoin Februaren and Jarneyn. “Not one falcon, Double Great. Two. One the kind Piper calls a hound. The big kind he got rid of because they worked so bad at Clearenza. The old men are beside them with torches. I didn’t see anybody else. If it wasn’t for them I’d say the place was deserted.”

Februaren told Iron Eyes, “Move your people out of the way, now.” He indicated an arc, narrow end at the gate, that he thought should be dwarf-free. “And tell them there’s going to be a lot of noise. These machines talk loud.”

Heris asked, “What’s the plan?”

“We get those people to think the whole mob is charging in. They fire. Then the whole mob charges in.”

Februaren and Iron Eyes