Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [113]
The stalker possessed inhuman patience and tenacity. It could only be drawn to a physical world such as this one by the command of a powerful wizard. The stalker was compelled by the summoning spell to perform the task assigned, and so it searched for the man named Halloran. Not until it found him and completed the command would it be free of the wizard's will.
It had searched the battlefield of Ulatos for hours before finally locating the spoor. The man had mounted a horse, and the steed had thwarted the stalker's previous efforts at detection.
But now it followed that horse along the beach, and the footprints and sword made steady progress. Suddenly they stopped as the stalker sought a spoor invisible and undetect-able to mortal senses.
Then the footprints turned from the beach and entered the jungle. Leaves rustled, as if to mark the passage of a short burst of wind, and soon the sword danced toward the entrance of a rocky grotto. Within, it sensed the dying coals of a fire.
And its quarry.
Cordell pried the gold nugget from the belly of the delicately carved turquoise statue. He freed the metal and let the statue drop and smash on the hard stone of the plaza. Placing the heavy nugget between two of his molars, he grinned as the pliable metal conformed slightly to the pressure of his bite.
Though the time was past midnight, great bonfires lit the plaza and the men of the legion showed no weariness as they watched more and more gold brought before them. Like Cordell, they tore the golden elements from artwork, compressed wiry statues into compact lumps of metal, and pulled the feathers and shells from delicate pictures embroidered with gold.
Long into the night, the captain-general toiled at his enjoyable task, until finally fatigue claimed him. He would meet with the assessor in the morning, and for once he looked forward to the meeting.
Halloran sat up in alarm, his magical dream forgotten even though the soft light still washed through the grotto. Corporal stood nearby, growling softly. The legionnaire listened to the distant howling, carried by the night breeze, and the sound sent an uncontrolled shiver down his spine.
"Erix?" he called softly. "Wake up."
She sat up quickly, and he sensed that she had already been awake for a little while. "Do you recognize that sound?" he asked.
"No…" She looked at him, and he had never seen her so frightened. "Is that more of your monsters?"
He shook his head and cast a glance at Corporal. "Greyhounds don't bay when they follow a trail. When they do bark, it doesn't sound anything like that." The musical, mournful cry again ululated through the night, still distant but intensely menacing.
"But you made this light, did you not?"
"Yes… that's one of the magic spells I told you about. I don't know if I could do it again. I was having a dream, and when I woke I cast it."
Erix looked around, her expression a mixture of fear and wonder. The cool white light filled the narrow niche, reflecting softly off the rocky walls. They had slept comfortably in the sheltered grotto, Hal wrapped in the blanket and Erix in her plain cotton mantle. But now neither of them wanted to rest.
The howling came again, noticeably nearer. Hal recalled the various powers and enchantments available to the Bishou or Darien, wondering if this might be the work of one of the spellcasters. "I think we'd better move on," he suggested. Erix was already up, rolling her mantle into a tight bundle.
Halloran lashed his backpack, blanket, and other supplies to Storm while Erix quickly splashed some water on herself. She joined him beside the horse as he was examining something from his pack.
"What is that? Water?" Erix asked, seeing a large vial in Hal's hand. He held