The Voice Above the Gorge

Zook did not like the way the gorge grew quieter as they climbed.

The river had been loud at the crossing, filling the ravine with a steady rush beneath the bridge. Now the water lay somewhere behind them and below, and the path rose between walls of damp stone. There were occasional narrow shelves, clumps of stubborn brush and openings black enough that they might have led into the mountain. The mist had thinned. That should have made the place easier to read. Instead it allowed Zook to see how many directions danger might come from.

He walked ahead of the others, pausing when the earth gave way to bare stone. Deacon stayed close enough to cover him. Behind them, Xil still moved carefully after the arrows at the bridge. Mills had helped bind the wounds, though the minstrel's own hands had been shaking by the end of the fight.

Jandar was in a better mood than anyone had a right to be.

"We're going uphill," he announced.

"I noticed," Deacon said.

"Good. I was beginning to fear the crossing had damaged your senses."

"The crossing damaged my patience."

"An old injury."

Zook looked back. Jandar's coat was torn where the ropes had caught him, and there was dried blood around one sleeve. The swashbuckler had spent enough time on the bridge with nothing useful to put beneath his feet. Now that the ground was solid again, he seemed determined to make up for it by moving at twice the necessary speed.

"Keep your eyes up," Zook said.

Jandar lifted his chin obediently. "How high?"

"Higher than me."

"An expansive field of study."

Even Deacon's mouth shifted slightly. Zook went on before the conversation developed into something longer.

The next bend took them into a narrow stretch beneath cliffs that rose above the trail. Dark holes punctured the stone. Some could have sheltered an animal. Others were little more than cracks. Zook studied the dust near one opening. There were marks, but too many were old or broken by falling gravel to tell him what had made them.

Xil came forward and called upon a veil of quiet that settled over the travelers. Their steps grew softer; loose pebbles seemed reluctant to betray them. The power was useful, though Zook noticed the familiar strain around the cleric's eyes as the taint passed through his prayer. Elvira, Vegon's bat, moved overhead, darting among the ledges wherever the gorge allowed her room.

"Something lived there," Zook said, pointing to a low cave.

"Past tense?" Jandar asked.

"I don't know."

"That is a less comfortable answer."

Jandar edged closer to the hole and crouched. He made a careful examination, then straightened with the air of a man who had accomplished something scholarly.

"I see darkness," he reported.

"Remarkable," Vegon said.

"You're welcome."

They found no useful trail beyond the opening. Jandar suggested they explore it anyway. Deacon wanted to keep moving. The dispute ended when a trickle of water began running down the slope from Jandar's hands.

Zook stared at the vessel he was holding.

"What are you doing?"

"Encouraging anyone inside to introduce themselves."

The little stream became a strong gush and swept into the cave, splashing against the stones before disappearing into the dark. Jandar let it run for a while, then closed the enchanted decanter.

Nothing emerged.

Deacon looked at the entrance, then at him. "You've watered a hole."

"Successfully."

"And learned?"

"Its occupant is either absent, patient or fond of water."

Zook could not argue with the assessment, only with the method.

A second opening lay higher up. Jandar climbed to it, using handholds Zook would have chosen himself, and repeated the experiment. This time the water ran across a lip of stone before vanishing inside. Elvira circled above. Still nothing appeared.

"Perhaps we should stop announcing ourselves," Vegon said.

"We're being quiet," Jandar replied.

Deacon glanced at the little waterfall. "Exceptionally."

They continued climbing. Jandar reached the next shelf first and lowered a rope to help the others. Zook used it only where the rock crumbled beneath his boots. Mills needed it for most of the ascent, hauling his lute and pack after him. When everyone reached the ledge, they found the gorge continuing ahead, narrow and uneven, with the cliffs turning sharply around another bend.

It was then that the sound began.

At first Zook mistook it for wind moving through some hidden cleft in the stone. Then a higher note entered it, a shrill, rising cry that seemed to scrape the inside of his skull. He stopped. The ground moved beneath him, though he knew it had not moved at all.

He heard Deacon curse. Xil put a hand to his head. Mills caught himself against the rock with an expression of naked alarm.

The sound came again, layered upon itself until it no longer resembled the voice of any ordinary bird. It made Zook think of enormous wings in a cramped place, bones striking bells and a frightened animal screaming without breath.

He tried to look up. Fear stopped him.

Nothing had touched him. There was no blade, no claw, no visible enemy at his throat. Still his body refused the movement. The ledge suddenly seemed far too narrow. Every shadow was a place from which something might descend. Pain flashed behind his eyes and his hand tightened uselessly on his weapon.

"Above us!" Vegon shouted.

Zook saw him turn toward the higher cliff and point. A huge birdlike thing crouched on the stone, its misshapen body hunched between ragged wings. The creature's head was ugly and wrong, its beak curved downward. As it opened its mouth the shriek rose again, pressing through Zook's fear like a knife drawn slowly across an old wound.

Jandar was moving before anyone else reached the creature.

He scrambled up the cliff, boots slipping once before he found purchase. His coat caught on a spur of rock. He pulled free and hauled himself onto the shelf with his rapier already drawn. Zook could see only portions of him now, a hand, a shoulder, a flash of steel.

The swashbuckler lunged. His blade struck hard, and he tore it loose before the thing could trap him beneath a wing.

"Found it!" Jandar called down.

Deacon tried to lift his crossbow. The shriek struck him again and he folded against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. Zook attempted to force his own feet forward. Nothing answered. He hated that helplessness more than the pain. There was an enemy close enough to fight and he could not make himself approach it.

The creature's cry held them while Jandar fought alone on the shelf.

Vegon reached for a spell. Zook caught a flicker of unstable light gathering around the wizard's hand, followed by a shudder through the air and a sharp intake of breath. The spell went wrong. Vegon stood motionless, stunned by his own magic as the taint closed around him.

Above, the beast struck at Jandar with its beak and hooked claws. Steel rang against armor. The first blows failed to find him. He shifted, ducked and returned a slash, pressing the creature away from the edge so it could not dive directly onto the others.

Xil shook himself and raised a hand. The prayer that followed sounded strained but deliberate. Pale, unnatural light washed over the creature, marking its wings and hunched body against the dark stone. The covering of silence he had given them dissolved as he turned his power to the new threat.

Mills climbed after Jandar.

Zook watched him go with disbelief. The minstrel had neither the skill nor the certainty for the climb, yet somehow managed it, boots scraping until he gained the ledge. He braced himself, pulled his small crossbow free and fired. The bolt struck the birdlike creature.

"I hit it!" he called.

"I can see that," Jandar said.

The creature twisted toward the swashbuckler. Its beak drove through a gap in his defense and struck with terrible force. Jandar reeled, blood spreading down the front of his coat. The next claws scraped across his armor as he struggled to keep his footing.

Zook forced one knee forward. The cry was still there. His mind knew the creature could bleed, could be hurt, could die. But the fear beneath the sound would not release him.

Then Deacon's crossbow snapped.

He had pulled himself clear of the worst of the enchantment. From below the ledge he found an angle between Jandar and the cliff and fired. The bolt passed into the beast, driving its body sideways. Its wings beat frantically against the stone.

The creature fell.

The cry ended so abruptly that Zook nearly pitched forward. His ears rang in the new silence. He took two steps without meaning to and had to catch himself before he walked straight into the rock wall.

Deacon lowered the crossbow. Xil called up to Jandar. Mills crouched beside him on the ledge, staring at the blood soaking through his clothes.

"I'm alive," Jandar called.

"No one asked," Deacon answered.

"I anticipated the question."

"Save your breath," Xil said.

That finally silenced him.

They gathered on a level patch of ground once Jandar had been helped down. Xil called upon the divine power still available to him and worked through the wounds of the company. Warmth moved from his hands, not entirely clean; the familiar sour note of tainted magic followed it. Zook felt the pressure in his skull recede. He could breathe without hearing that voice inside his thoughts.

Jandar sat with his back against a stone and watched the cleric work.

"An ugly bird," he said at last.

"An ugly bird that nearly killed you," Deacon replied.

"I've encountered prettier things with similar intentions."

"Your standards are low."

"My standards are adaptable."

Mills glanced between them, then flexed the hand that had held his crossbow. "I really did hit it."

Deacon turned toward him. "You did."

Mills smiled. "I'll try not to make it a habit."

"Don't promise what you can't deliver," Jandar told him.

Zook walked to the edge of the ledge and looked along the route ahead. The path they had climbed seemed to end in broken stone. There was no useful way through at this height. They would have to descend and circle around another shoulder of the gorge.

He disliked being right about that. Every descent in this place left them exposed to another set of openings in the rock.

The others came when he called. Jandar used the ring that softened his fall rather than trust the slick stone, dropping to lower ground with exaggerated composure. Mills watched him land, then looked at the rope in Deacon's hand.

"I think I'll use that," he said.

"Good judgment," Deacon replied.

"I have it occasionally."

They reached the lower path without serious injury and followed its curve around a mass of weathered stone. At several points it seemed likely to return them to the ground they had already covered. Zook tested the edges and found old animal traces but no convincing sign of recent human passage.

The mountain had made a habit of deceiving the eye. An opening that looked deep might stop after a few paces. A passage that seemed blocked might continue behind a fold of rock. The only certainty was that the gorge continued upward.

Jandar took the lead again, moving quietly ahead of the others. Zook let him. The swashbuckler was good at finding a route over treacherous ground, and after the fight above the cliff he seemed more determined than ever not to be caught standing in one place.

They came to another cave entrance, larger than the first pair and deep enough that the daylight reached only a short distance inside.

Jandar inspected it.

"What do you think?" Zook asked.

"I think there is a cave."

"We've established that."

"Then our investigation is progressing."

Deacon reached the bend behind them and stopped several paces back, where he could see the entrance without presenting himself as an easy target. Vegon moved to a place with room for a spell. Xil gathered power over Jandar and Zook, a brief blessing that left a pale shimmer on their weapons before fading.

Mills looked toward the black opening. "There aren't any treasure chests in there, are there?"

"Probably not," Vegon said.

Jandar took out the decanter.

Zook sighed. "Again?"

"The method remains available."

"So does walking away."

"That rarely gets us acquainted with the locals."

The first surge of water disappeared into the darkness, running along the cave floor with a hollow splash. Jandar waited. This cave gave no answer at first. Only the sound of water striking stone returned.

Then something pale shot out of the opening and struck his chest.

He staggered but remained upright. The filament held, thick and sticky, drawn taut between his coat and the unseen creature within. For a moment it looked like an ordinary strand of rope, until it tightened with a living pull.

"That," Jandar said, "is not water."

Something hauled on him from inside the cave. His boots scraped across the ground, but he planted his feet and held. Zook rushed closer as Deacon raised his crossbow.

"Cut it!" Zook shouted.

"An excellent proposal."

Jandar slashed at the line. His rapier struck, but the filament barely yielded. He tried again with the shorter blade at his side, sawing through the sticky cord until it snapped back into the darkness.

Deacon fired toward the sound. A bolt struck something within and a harsh hiss answered. Another shot clattered against rock.

Zook stepped into a better angle and loosed arrows down the narrow opening. They vanished into shadow, striking stone rather than flesh. He moved closer, searching for something to aim at, while Vegon tried to gather magic around the shape that clung to the inner wall.

The wizard's spell did not hold. For an instant the light bent in the wrong direction, pulling inward rather than outward, and then collapsed. Vegon cursed softly and lowered his hand.

"No help from that," Deacon said.

"I noticed," Vegon replied.

Inside the cave, something shifted against the wall. Xil's dark-adapted eyes found it first: a long-bodied predator perched farther back, its limbs braced against stone, ready to cast another line. Before he could warn them, the filament snapped outward again.

This time it struck Deacon.

The fighter took the pull in his chest, bent his knees and refused to move. He kept his crossbow level despite the strand stretching from his armor into the cave. He fired at the creature's outline, then again. Each shot brought a new scraping hiss.

Zook could see the thing now, just enough of it where the darkness gathered. He sent another arrow after Deacon's bolts. The angle was poor. The shot went wide. Jandar hovered near the entrance, knife ready for another line should it catch any of them.

Deacon worked against the filament, shifting his stance so the creature could not drag him into the opening. He took one careful breath, aimed and fired again.

The answer from the cave was a violent thrashing, followed by silence.

The pull vanished.

No one moved for a moment. Then Deacon lowered the crossbow, its string still trembling.

"Dead," he said.

"I was beginning to dislike it," Jandar answered.

"Beginning?" Mills asked.

"I give new acquaintances time to disappoint me."

They approached the mouth cautiously. Jandar ventured inside to examine the carcass, his blade raised in case the stillness was a deception. The creature hung broken against the wall, all hooked limbs and mouthparts and the place from which its terrible filament had emerged. Beyond it lay scattered bones, mostly the remains of animals that had wandered too close. There were no abandoned weapons, no sign of a lost traveler and certainly no treasure.

Jandar emerged with a look of dissatisfaction.

"Well?" Vegon asked.

"Bones."

"Anything useful?"

"Only if someone is collecting bones."

He tried to cut a piece from the creature's projecting mouthparts. The tissue broke apart, leaving him with an unsatisfying handful of jagged fragments. After a brief inspection he threw most of them away.

"An excellent use of our time," Deacon said.

Jandar brushed his hands on his coat. "We have established that the mountain is hostile to visitors and poor at hospitality."

"That was established at the bridge," Xil said.

"I am thorough."

Zook looked farther up the gorge. The path rose again among broken stones and another turn obscured what lay beyond. He was tired, and more concerned than he wanted to admit about how many times the party had been caught by creatures they could scarcely see.

"We should go," he said.

Nobody argued.

They were beginning to climb when he noticed a figure higher on the rock.

For a moment Zook mistook it for a piece of dark stone set against the cliff. Then it moved, not to threaten them or conceal itself, but simply to settle more comfortably on the ledge. A man sat there as though the gorge were a roadside inn and he had been waiting for late travelers.

Zook stopped. Deacon followed his gaze. The fighter's hand went to his crossbow before the rest of the company understood why.

The stranger made no move to draw a weapon.

Jandar came level with Zook, looked up and lost his smile.

There was no mistaking the face. They had last seen him standing between them and another Scourge Lord, deciding with almost casual authority whether they would live.

"Chul' Tor," Vegon said quietly.

The ancient enemy watched them from the cliff, patient and entirely at ease.

Whatever he had come to tell them, he had chosen his place and waited for them to find it.