The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [25]
"We're not intended to have all the world. You should learn to live where you are," Haarn said, raking his dark gaze over the slavers.
A small group of men sitting at a cookfire still talked and drank from a bottle they passed around. They'd arrived back in the camp a while ago. No one else had shown up, nor did any more bands seem expected.
"You've never had a… wanderlust?" Druz asked.
"Of course I have," Haarn said, barely paying attention. "Fve wandered all over Turmish."
"Did you ever go to a city?"
"No."
Druz couldn't believe that. "How can you talk so badly of Alaghфn and other cities if you've never seen one?"
Haarn looked at her. "Have you ever been bitten by a poisonous viper?"
"Yes."
"You know the poison will kill you if left untreated." "Of course," Druz agreed as she worked at her own bonds.
She found no looseness in the leather ties. Her aggravation at the druid increased, but she knew it was a byproduct of her own helplessness. Railing at their slaver captors wouldn't be safe or satisfying, and the druid's chain of logic eluded her.
"If you didn't see the viper that bit you," Haarn asked,
"do you believe that the poison would kill you just as cer-tainlyT "Yes."
"That's how I feel about the people I've met who come from cities. I don't have to see their cities to know that they're unacceptable."
"That isn't fair."
"I don't have to be fair," Haarn said, then he started chanting.
The guttural words sounded incredibly old and harsh to Druz, but she felt the magic in them. During her sojourn as a sellsword she'd had several occasions to work around combat mages. Once at a fair in Westgate a seer had told Druz that she carried a hint of magic about her. Druz had chosen not to pursue that possibility-she didn't much care for magic, and mage schools were expensive-but she'd always known when magic was working around her, if it was close or if it was strong.
She knew the magic Haarn used was powerful just by the way it prickled her skin and tightened the hair at the nape of her neck. He spoke a single word at the end of the chant and a sudden cold feeling stabbed into Druz's stomach.
Haarn's features started to melt, collapsing and flowing like a beeswax candle. Feathers took the place of flesh as the druid dwindled in on himself, becoming smaller and smaller. In a matter of heartbeats, a great horned owl stood on clawed feet where the druid had been sitting only an instant before. The leather fetters lay on the ground.
The owl unfurled its great wings and leaped up. Though the winged predator's weight prevented it from speedily gaining ascent, the owl flew nevertheless. The druid in owl form sped toward the five slavers gathered around the cookfire. Druz heard the wings beat the air as the owl sailed over the sleeping slavers.
One of the slavers noticed the owl's approach and cried out in alarm as he dragged at the sword sheathed at his side. Without hesitation, Haarn raked his owl's claws across the man's face, savaging his features into a bloody ruin and narrowly avoiding the sword blow that cleaved the air for him.
The slaver fell back, squealing in pain and fear. The other slavers grabbed for their weapons and shouted an alarm. Even as the rousing slavers struggled to come to their feet and react, the huge brown bear broke the tree line around the clearing and charged into the camp. The bear roared and the sound was deafening.
The slavers yelled in fear and called on their gods. In the next instant, the bear was among them, flailing and rending with its great claws and fangs. Men dropped away from the bear's attack, and many of them never moved again. The bear was as vicious as it was relentless.
Haarn, in owl form, attacked a man who had fitted a crossbow to his shoulder and was taking aim at the bear.
The slaver dropped his weapon and screamed, "My eyes! My eyes!"
He stumbled back and fell into one of the campfires. Smoldering embers rose into the night air along with the man's renewed screams of pain.
The chain holding Druz's leather restraints