Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [80]
Massive foreclaws reached for a northman, who stumbled backward, slashing with his axe. Both the weapon and the beast's talons missed their targets by inches. Another northman dodged in to chop into the thing's armored shoulder. Alicia watched in amazement as the man's axe met the illusory surface and stopped, almost as abruptly as if it had met a solid object.
The image of the bulette whirled and its jaws gaped before the courageous attacker. He bellowed a cry of fierce and savage joy, raising his axe and striking at the grotesque snout. The princess realized that the man fought in a berserker frenzy. She had heard some northmen were capable of this battle trait, but its reality was beyond her mind's grasp. Howling madly, the berserker hurled himself at the creature again, his blade slashing, his teeth clenched in a murderous grin as the fire of battle lust surged in his eyes.
Suddenly a flash of color popped between them, and she saw the grinning face of the faerie dragon.
"Pretty good, huh?" asked Newt smugly. "But what are you waiting for? Let's get out of here!"
"We can't, you little idiot!" snapped Keane. "We're tied up! They were just about to let us go when your 'friend' arrived!"
Newt pouted. "Oh, bother! Can't you untie yourselves? I mean, you have fingers, don't you?"
The answer was lost in a shout as a warrior of Gnarhelm rushed at the beast, but in that same instant, the monster's image wavered, becoming translucent and insubstantial. The charging man plunged through the fading form, stumbling in surprise and then falling headlong into the campfire.
He shrieked in pain as the flames hungrily devoured his beard and the braid of his long hair. Forgetting the monster for the moment, several of his compatriots pulled him from the flames and quickly threw him into the icy stream. When they finally lifted him out, his face was blackened and seared. Ugly red patches showed where his cheeks had been burned.
Two clerics came to his assistance and began to salve his wounds as best they could. They had no healing spells left, having used their powers to cure the wounds of those injured by arrows earlier in the day.
"Sorcery!" growled the burly warrior beside Brandon, making a curse of the word. Blinking, the gruff warriors looked around, realizing that the attack had never occurred.
"She did it!" The one called Knaff pointed a finger at Alicia, the hatred in his eyes flaring to new heights.
"No!" objected Tavish. "It was-"
The three companions looked around then, before Tavish could finish. Naturally Newt was gone.
"Put the witch to death!" shouted another warrior, and Alicia's heart chilled at the chorus of agreement.
"Horac may well lose his eyes," said another, who had tended the burned man. "At least make them suffer the same fate." He fingered a long dagger, and Alicia sensed that he would be only too willing to perform the mutilation himself.
"Hold!" said Brandon, his voice forceful but his manner, like that of his countrymen, taut with rage. He fixed his stare upon Alicia, and once again the ice crackled in his eyes. "Explain this treachery-and quickly!" he barked.
The princess sensed a moment of cusp. The success or failure of their mission, perhaps their very lives, would depend upon her response to his demand and to Brandon's acceptance or dispute with her reply. Why, then, was her mind so gods-cursed blank of anything intelligent to say?
"No treachery," Tavish said smoothly. "A mistake. The enchantment was performed by one who thought he aided us, who believed us to be in danger."
"What one?" Brandon turned his eyes on the bard and again Tavish smoothly responded.
"A faerie dragon. Did you witness the great serpent that chased us today, spooking our horses and sending us far off the pass road?"
"Yes." The companions