The Riddle - Alison Croggon [52]
No hooded cloak hid the horror of the bony, unliving face that turned its depthless eyes upon them. Despite herself, Maerad shuddered.
“As for you, outlaws, I seek to bring you to a larger justice. It is well broadcast through all these lands that you are wanted for treason against the Light.”
Cadvan spat on the ground. “It ill behooves a Hull to speak of treason against the Light,” he said.
“I am no traitor,” said the Hull. “I am a loyal Bard of Norloch. And it would be well if you came with me. You cannot fight me.” The Hull was idly fiddling with an object it held in its hands. “I have a blackstone; your magery is useless. Even such powers as yours, Maerad of Pellinor. And I am a greater swordsman than you might guess.”
“You’re a liar,” said Maerad hotly. “Like all Hulls.”
Casually and contemptuously, the Hull lifted the blackstone and spoke, and Maerad gasped; it felt as if serpents were biting her innards. She clutched herself in sudden agony, almost falling.
Cadvan grasped her hand, and the agony vanished.
“It has your pattern,” he said inscrutably. “And it is right: we cannot attack it. Not with magery. It will only be turned against us.”
“I don’t believe you can fight us and prevail, even so.” Maerad lifted her sword, and the Hull laughed.
“Oh, I have heard of your prowess,” it said deliberately. “A promising beginner, I’m told. But no more than a beginner. And do you think the great Cadvan can defend you? Not with his magery useless, surely. He is not so great.”
“I will not bandy words with traitors,” said Cadvan grimly. Come, Maerad, he said in her mind, and moving together as one, they attacked the Hull.
The Hull moved blindingly fast, sending a blast of black lightning and attacking Cadvan with his sword. Maerad doubled in agony again, and a darkness came over her vision, as if it were suddenly the deepest night. She collapsed to the ground, writhing and struggling to breathe.
For a few moments, she was conscious of nothing except pain. Then she remembered the urgency of their situation, and wrestled with herself. She still couldn’t see anything, but she could hear the sound of weapons clashing, as if from very far away. With all her willpower, she forced herself to ignore the pain. She opened her eyes, staring sightlessly ahead of her; after a short time she could almost see, but it was as if a black mist flooded her sight. She took a deep breath and tried again.
Cadvan and the Hull were in vicious combat, but neither had as yet gained the upper hand. The Hull had not been lying about its sword skills; Maerad could see, even through the dimness that afflicted her sight, that they were formidable. What if Cadvan couldn’t defeat him?
Maerad bit her lip so hard it bled. It helped to clear her mind. She struggled to her knees, and tried to see more. She saw Cadvan knocked head over heels by the force of a sword stroke, but he sprang back onto his feet like an acrobat. His right arm was bleeding, and the Hull was yet unscathed. The Hull was now fighting him back, step by step, toward the gorge wall.
Maerad pushed her agony down into the back of her mind. It’s only pain, she said to herself. It’s only pain. Shaking with the effort, she reached deep inside her mind, and as she did so, the pain lessened slightly. She took a deep breath and began to visualize the first thing that came to her mind. The Hull was paying no attention to her, believing she was disabled, and Cadvan was fighting back fiercely, demanding the Hull’s full concentration. He almost disarmed the Hull, which righted itself, springing back, but Cadvan was breathing heavily, and Maerad thought the arm wound was perhaps a serious one. She focused fiercely on the figure of the Hull and shut her eyes. Now.
She heard a clatter of stones as Cadvan fell over, slashing wide with his sword against blank air, and she opened her eyes again. Her first thought was overwhelming relief; the pain in her belly was gone. She looked up.
Cadvan had rolled as