With a bitter cry, he turned away from the sight of his friends, blinking hard against sudden tears.
They were going to die. Jermayan was wounded, Shalkan and Vestakia were poisoned by the emanations of this hellish place. The three of them could barely stand. How could they fight?
Go on. Don't make them die for nothing.
He took a second step, then a third, up the grey stairs. And then, he began to run.
"HOW long?" Vestakia asked in a small voice, watching Kellen walk away from them.
"As long as it takes to climb the tower and set the keystone into position," Jermayan answered shortly. He took a step forward, leaning heavily on his sword as he peered after Kellen. His wound—or the hell-spawned magic of this place—must be affecting his vision. The boy seemed somehow insubstantial, as though he moved through mist. But no. The rocks around him were as sharp as ever to Jermayan's sight. It was only Kellen who had taken on the aspect of unreality.
He darted a suspicious glance at Vestakia, but the sight of her obvious misery was enough to make even Jermayan think twice about accusing her.
"Where he goes now, even you cannot follow, Elven Knight," Shalkan said. The unicorn sounded utterly weary, and pressed close against Vestakia, as if seeking comfort there.
"Will he die?" Jermayan asked, putting his greatest fear into words.
"We will all die if he cannot do this," Shalkan said flatly. "We three. Sentarshadeen. The Wildwood. Even Armethalieh and beyond. If they cannot be held here, the trickle of gravel that heralds the avalanche will have begun."
When Jermayan looked again, Kellen had nearly reached the rocks surrounding the cairn, moving toward the natural gateway in the stone ring. Yet he could not have gone so far at the slow pace he'd been making in the short time since Jermayan had last looked. Jermayan shuddered. This was a horrible place. Nothing was as it seemed, but all of it was evil, polluted, and vile. The pain of his wounds was a wholesome thing compared to the crawling sense of uncleanness that seemed to fill the very air, and Jermayan was neither Wildmage, nor Demon-bred, nor creature of magic. How much worse must it be for the others?
There was nothing to do but wait.
Slowly it grew darker.
"Ah, Good Goddess save us!" Vestakia cried in a high terrified voice, jerking away from Shalkan. "Something is coming!"
Jermayan whirled, swinging his sword up and taking a defensive stance, though the movement made him feel as if someone had plunged a red-hot poker into his side. For a moment he saw nothing, then his keen Elven eyes detected a flicker of shadow at the edges of several of the boulders.
Without thought, he grabbed Vestakia's hand and ran.
The stone ring—they're after Kelien —
Behind him, he heard howling.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Battle at the Cairn
THE THREE OF them reached the stone gateway and turned to face their pursuers. Jermayan leaned against one of the pillars for support, and as he did, he felt Vestakia reaching under his cloak, pulling his bow and quiver free.
"I know how to use these," she said grimly, slinging the heavy war-quiver over her shoulder. It held six dozen arrows, but she shouldered its weight without difficulty. She strung the bow and nocked an arrow with one swift expert motion.
"This is the only way to the cairn," Shalkan reported, drawing himself up and preparing to fight. His horn had begun to glow: the bright silvery blue of moonlight.
"We have to hold them here for as long as we can," Jermayan said grimly. The pain of his wound was forgotten; an Elven Knight was trained to ignore such things. But it would sap his strength, his speed…
He didn't say what they all knew: they were going to die here. The Demon-girl was welcome to his dagger as well as his bow, but they faced overwhelming numbers. All they could do was buy Kellen time.
Running toward them across the broken ground of the stony waste was an army of goblins, their bulging silver eyes squinting against what was to them the painful brightness of twilight and the unicorn's horn. They gibbered and cackled and howled as they ran, opening frog-wide mouths to expose endless rows of shark-bright teeth. Their glistening hairless skins were all the colors of bruises: purple and black and green. Some swung themselves along on their elongated forearms, like the apes they somewhat resembled, others shambled upright, the better to carry weapons. Most preferred to rely on their natural weapons—teeth and claws, speed and strength.
The Endarkened, Jermayan knew, kept them as pets. In the Great War, they had used them as shock troops. They could move through earth as if it were air, and that, of course, was how they had lain hidden until some trap-spell alerted and released them. Goblins would eat anything, and not wait until it was dead to begin. A goblin horde could devour an ox down to the bone in minutes.
Vestakia fired, choosing her targets with both speed and care. Each time she fired, she hit her mark, and the goblins nearby the victim stopped to devour their fallen comrade.
And that was an unexpected help. Fights broke out over the division of the spoils, as members of the horde turned on each other and fought. Vestakia was careful to space her targets, to spread the chaos as far as possible, and to conserve her arrows.
But some got through.
"Back!" Jermayan shouted as the goblin sprang at him. A quick slice of his sword cut it nearly in two, and left it twitching out its life at his feet. He killed four more almost immediately. They were easy to kill, and as long as they didn't get close enough to spit poison in his eyes, or onto his exposed skin, he was safe enough. Their deadliness lay in their sheer numbers, and the fact that they were too single-minded to retreat even when they were being slaughtered. They'd just keep coming.
And sooner or later they would wear him down, and poison him. They were strong enough to rip his armor off to get at what was underneath while he lay paralyzed. And then it would be over.
Vestakia ducked out from behind him again and again and began shooting, and Jermayan took advantage of that to throw the dead goblins as far toward the horde as possible.
"They spit poison!" Jermayan shouted at her, afraid suddenly that she might be taken unawares.
"I'm immune!" she shouted back. "I found that out a long time ago! And Shalkan can purge you of poison!" jermayan spared a moment for a pang of relief. Another help, and one he had not expected; the unicorn might not be able to heal him, nor share a Healing Price for one who was not a virgin, but the touch of his horn would neutralize any poison, even from a goblin bite.
So all they had to worry about was being torn to pieces and eaten alive. That was comforting. Jermayan glanced toward the unicorn. Shalkan had a goblin skewered on the end of his horn. With a snap, the unicorn sent the body flying back into the horde.
But the goblins kept coming.
Somehow the creatures decided that Vestakia was the most vulnerable. They feared Shalkan, and Jermayan was well protected by his armor, but they kept taking desperate risks to get at Vestakia, and finally Jermayan realized why.
It's not that she's the most vulnerable. They want her. They must have orders to take her alive!
His suspicion was confirmed when several goblins managed to get past Shalkan and knock Vestakia down. Rather than bursting through the gate after Kellen—or beginning to devour Vestakia on the spot—they grabbed her legs and began dragging her back toward the horde.
Vestakia screamed, a wail of nightmare terror. The goblin horde swarmed forward. But it didn't attack. It was waiting, waiting until it had claimed Vestakia.
Shalkan was too far away. If he came to her aid, the goblins would have the opening they sought without having to wait. They'd pour through the gate and be after Kellen in an instant.
Jermayan sprang forward and grabbed her by the hair. He hauled back with all his strength, jerking Vestakia toward him, pulling her and both the goblins into the air. He got his hands, sword and all, under her armpits and whirled, though the pain of his wound made him cry out in a high-pitched wail of his own.
He cracked her legs like a whip as he lifted her, retreating between the stones, but the two goblins refused to let go. She kicked and struggled frantically, screaming at the top of her lungs, but the goblins dug their claws into her legs and hissed.
With another howl of agony Jermayan caught her up around the waist with his unencumbered arm. Still holding her in the air, Jermayan swung his sword, thrusting more goblins back as they rushed forward to help their horde mates. He wouldn't be able to hold her up much longer—already it was torture—and the moment the goblins got their feet on the ground, the battle for Vestakia would be lost.
Then Shalkan appeared. Almost delicately, the unicorn slipped his horn through the body of one of the goblins. The wound smoked. The goblin convulsed, and Vestakia whimpered as its claws dug deeper for a moment before it dropped off, dead. Jermayan marveled to see that even then, its horde brother still clung to Vestakia, as if having reached the long-sought prize, it could not bear to relinquish it. What price, what price had been set upon her by her Demon father?
All true, Jermayan realized in that instant. All she said— true.
The goblin glared at Jermayan, and spat. The poison struck his surcoat harmlessly and bubbled away, steaming. The vile liquid stank.
Shalkan killed that one, too. Jermayan kicked the bodies away, stumbling backward into the gap again.