“I don’t like the idea of talking to the humans,” Melowin said. “But the Stone King has spoken repeatedly of forging a treaty between Chalandros and this world – which has until now proven impossible. But if we approach the village cautiously and with respect, any agreement we make with them, however small, may pave the way to a larger negotiation. I know we were all unsettled to be released from the service of the Stone King. But this may be a way we can continue to serve him and the rest of the peoples of Chalandros.”
It was comforting to know that Koradan wasn’t the only one feeling bereft about their sudden lack of purpose. “We go to the village,” Koradan said, knowing that his men would fall in behind him, even if some of them disagreed with his decision. “I will speak to the humans first. The rest of you stand back and be prepared to defend yourselves if necessary. I would prefer not to resort to violence, but the humans are well known to attack without reason. If we can’t negotiate with them, retreat into the mountains and do the best you can.”
Not leaving you, Ashd said, picking up on Koradan’s expectation that if the attempt at negotiation failed, he would most likely end up dead.
You’ve lost one rider before, Koradan told Ashd, silently so as to avoid alerting his men to the macabre conversation.You can survive it if it happens again.
Ashd sent back a flat refusal, which Koradan ignored. Gods willing, it wouldn’t come to that anyway.
“Which way to the village?” he asked Ashd out loud. The vreki began lumbering off to the west, heading for the edge of the field and then onto a narrow dirt road. Vreki were as cumbersome on land as they were graceful in the air. Their legs were designed for climbing, not walking, so traveling for any distance on foot was an effort for them. Half an hour passed, the men walking slowly so as not to pressure their tired mounts. Then finally, as they rounded a turn in the road, a series of low houses came into view. Neat laneways split the village into sections and each house was rimmed with shrubs and bushes. The moonlight illuminated slate roofs and whitewashed walls. The residents clearly cared about their homes.
It was about three hours after midnight, so the village was silent. Koradan came to a stop and took a long, slow breath as he cast his gaze over the slumbering settlement, as a thousand different fears and worries flittered through his mind. “Okay, then. Time to introduce ourselves.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Lynette jerked awake, a sudden fear overcoming her as she lay perfectly still in the darkness. She listened carefully, but the village was silent. No hint of danger, no reason for her distress. So why had she woken?
Had something happened to Paul? She threw back the covers, intending to go to her son’s room to check on him. But just as her feet hit the floor, a deep rumbling sound rolled over the house, rattling the walls and making the floor tremble. Then, just as the rumbling began to fade, a screeching bellow filled the air.
“Fuck me to hell and back,” she muttered, lurching to her feet and racing for Paul’s room. She found him sitting up in bed, eyes wide in terror. “Stay here,” she barked at him. “Are you okay? You’re fine?”
Paul nodded. “Was that another earthquake?” He was already getting out of bed, reaching for a pair of pants slung over the back of a chair.
“I’m going to find out. Stay here,” Lynette repeated, pointing her finger at him. Then she dashed back to her room, tugging on a pair of trousers and shoving her feet into her boots. She was already wearing the long, loose shirt that she slept in, and she decided that would do for now.
On her way back to the front door, she saw Paul, half dressed and lingering in his doorway. “Don’t you leave the fucking house,” she snapped, knowing she was going to get a lecture from Paul later about the swearing. She was continually telling him off for using the same language as she just had, but she figured that a second earthquake shaking the small mining village of Varismont in less than a day was excuse enough for the expletives.
She grabbed a broom on the way out the door – not the finest choice of weapon, but she didn’t have much else available. A part of her wondered why she thought she needed a weapon, if this was simply an aftershock from the more powerful quake that had struck the village that morning. But the sound outside defied explanation. The rumble she could have believed was another tremor, but the screech? What could possibly make such a noise?
Out in the street, the other villagers were pouring out of their houses. There was Ann, looking a fright with her wild hair sticking in a hundred different directions. And Peter, who must have been in his eighties by now, but was still going, hobbling about with a crooked back and a gammy knee. And Charrice, wearing a lacy nightgown that Joen had given her as a wedding present. Poor girl. If she ended up a widow after only three months, it would be a tragedy twice over.
“Was that an earthquake?”
“Is anybody injured?”
“What about the mine?”
“My roof was shaking!”
“What if there are more aftershocks?”
Everybody was talking over each other, dashing about with no real plan or purpose. Lynette forced herself to stand still, to assess the situation and try to think clearly. The ground had shaken, but what about that screech? It had come from the east. Not from the mountains, but from the farmland. But what had caused it? An underground gas pocket rupturing? It had been too loud to be a bird or a bat. A wild animal? An injured one? A woman being attacked by bandits? No, it had been too loud, and it had had an altogether unworldly quality to it.
She headed for the edge of the village, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. The moon was bright, letting her see well enough even without a lantern.
“What do you think that was?” Morgan rushed over to her, a glowing lantern in her grasp. She was one of Lynette’s closest friends, kind and compassionate, but also pragmatic and organised. Right now, though, she simply looked terrified.
“I don’t know,” Lynette said, not willing to commit to any particular theory just yet. “It didn’t sound like an aftershock, but I’m not sure what it could have been.” She rounded the corner at the end of the blacksmith’s workshop, stepping out onto the street that led out of town, towards the farmland where rows of vegetables and flocks of goats were kept. There were shadows at the end of the lane, where trees grew up beside the road, and between the shadows…
A cold dread settled in Lynette’s gut as she stared down towards the end of the road.
“Angels preserve us,” Morgan muttered from beside her. “Hell has come to our doorstep.”
“Varismont is cursed,” Lynette said. “May the gods forgive us.” She counted four… no, five demons, their hulking figures standing out against the vegetation, curved horns rising from their heads, and behind them, the looming shapes of a number of dragons.
“How did they get past the Gate of Chalandros?” Morgan asked in a loud whisper. She clutched Lynette’s arm, fingernails biting deep. “The warriors should have stopped them. What are they doing here? Oh gods, we’re all going to die!”
Lynette held her broom out in front of her, as if it could provide any protection against five fearsome demons.
