Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [96]
The Rashemi was the first to stop. He leaned over, hands on his knees as he drew in long, ragged breaths. "Better a hundred armed men than such a creature," he gasped out.
Liriel nodded absently, her eyes turned out to sea and her thoughts still puzzling over the strange encounter. Banshee lairs invariably housed whatever the elf had valued in life. What magic was the banshee guarding, and why had it insisted that the living might not pass? There was a mystery here that both disturbed and intrigued the inquisitive drow.
Suddenly some movement on the rock-strewn beach below caught the distracted drow's eye. Two figures walked along the shore-obviously lovers, judging by their entwined hands and the solicitous way the large, fairhaired man bent over the much smaller woman. Liriel peered more closely at the female who, despite her yellow hair and pale skin, did not have the look of a N orthwoman. She was too small, too slim, and far too impractical, clad as she was in a clinging gown of cloth-of-gold, a fabric more appropriate to a royal wedding than a seaside tryst. The wind blew cold off the sea, yet the woman wore no cloakonly a fringed shawl ofwhite silk knotted about her shoulders. The two faced the sea, and since they were too far distant for even Liriel's elven eyes to discern their identity she did not bother pointing them out to Fyodor. Nor did she truly wish for him to contemplate such contented lovers. "Let's take the forest path," she said abruptly and spun away from the cliWs edge.
They had walked in silence for nearly an hour when, without warning, Fyodor stopped and drew his sword. Liriel instinctively followed suit, pulling her dagger and falling into battle stance at his back.
"What is it?" she demanded, her voice just above a whisper. "The forest," he replied in kind. "it has gone silent."
The drow strained her ears. Sure enough, the strange sounds of the forest creatures-the chirp of insects, the cry of birds, the scolding voices of the little furry things that Fyodor called squirrels-had disappeared. The only sound was the wind in the restive leaves.
Then, suddenly, a rush of wind and wings spun down toward them. Instinctively Liriel dropped and rolled. Fast though the drow was, her attacker was faster still. A scorching pain slashed her shoulders, followed by a sharp, wrenching stab as a lock of her hair was torn from her scalp. Liriel ignored both and rolled into a crouch. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.
Fyodor had his sword out before him, holding it in two hands as he faced off against a man-sized hawk. The enormous bird and the warrior moved in a slow, eerie dance, circling together as each sought an opening. A white, wavy strand ofLiriel's hair was tangled in one of the hawk's daggerlike talons, and its bright, silver-hued eyes regarded its opponent with feral intelligence. When Fyodor shot a quick, concerned glance toward his drow companion, the hawk seized the moment and darted in, beak diving for the human's heart.
Liriel sucked in a startled gasp; there was no time for her to deflect the attack. And no need-even without the battle rage, Fyodor was a capable fighter. Up came the black sword, blocking the strike and slapping the curved beak sharply to one side. For just a moment, the hawk's neck was exposed. But without the berserker frenzy to speed his movements, Fyodor could not move the heavy sword fast enough to take advantage of the opening.
The giant hawk fell back a few hopping steps, spreading its wings wide in preparation for the next attack.
Liriel snatched a bolo from her belt, whirled briefly, and let fly. The weapon spun and wrapped itself around an enormous leg. The whirling weights struck with a satisfying crack, and the hawk staggered to a stop. For a moment the