Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [116]
He threw back the blankets to sit up and look round— no one there, and he realized that he’d never truly expected to see anyone, either. All at once the mule tossed up its head and snorted, turning on its rope to sniff into the wind. Rhodry grabbed the bow and strung it, looping the bowstring into the notch at one end, hooking that end under his outstretched foot, and pulling back against the brace of his own leg to shape the bow as he finished stringing it. That done, he stood, nocking an arrow and taking a few steps away from his bedroll. Slowly he turned round in a circle, looking everywhere for signs of a hidden enemy. He saw nothing, but the mule snorted again, dancing a little.
This time, when Rhodry looked among the trees he saw a figure watching him — At first he thought it a shepherd, because it wore tattered brigga and a rough shirt, all greasy and torn, but then it stepped out into the sunlight. Although the face was recognizably human, its body perched on a pair of legs as long and skinny as a stork’s, its back bowed out, and its arms hung tiny from its sides. Its head rose long and narrow from a skinny neck, so that the warty, wattled face seemed to float in front of the rest of it.
“What do you want?” Rhodry hissed.
Its eyes glittered bright, and it grinned, exposing long yellow fangs of teeth. There was malice a-plenty in that smile, a twisted urge to rend and tear, perhaps, just for the joy of the bite. Rhodry swept up the bow and loosed. The bowstring sang; the arrow hissed and flew directly through the creature to rattle onto the rocky ground. Yet even though the arrow did no visible harm, the creature shrieked in agony as the steel-tipped shaft pierced it.
“Stay away, then,” Rhodry snapped. “Be gone!”
It bared its fangs in a snarl and disappeared. For a moment the snarl seemed to hover on the air like a greasy stain,then hurried after the rest of it. Rhodry shuddered convulsively, then carefully, one step at a time, walked over to retrieve his arrow. When he knelt down he examined the ground round about, but he saw no footsteps in the dust.
He walked back to the camp to find the dwarves awake, throwing back blankets and scrambling up.
“What was that thing?” Mic burst out. “I’ve never seen one of the Wildfolk like that before. It was so big.”
“Well, I doubt me if it was one of the Wildfolk.” Rhodry hesitated, wondering how to explain. “But it wasn’t really there, either. My arrow sailed right through it.”
“We saw that.”
The others waited, looking at him expectantly.
“I told you about Alshandra, didn’t I?” Rhodry said. “Pd guess it was one of her people.”
“What do they want with you?” Garin said.
“Cursed if I know.”
“We might all be cursed,” Otho broke in, “if we can’t figure it out.”
All at once Rhodry felt dishonorable. For all his squabbling with Otho, he’d known the old man practically all his life, and he honestly liked his kinsfolk.
“Why don’t you all turn back?” Rhodry said. “Garin, tell me how to get to this Haen Marn place, and I’ll try to find it on my own. This whole thing’s just gotten a good bit more dangerous, and I feel like a shamed man for dragging you into it.”
“Hold your tongue, you stupid elf!” Otho snapped. “Don’t go dousing the wound with vinegar. You could have thought of that before we drove a bargain.”
Rhodry stared, utterly uncomprehending.
“Otho, one of these days I’m going to sew your lips shut, and life