Besieged Read online

  She matched him stride for stride as they moved down the mountain side, “Tell me of the werfs.”

  His eyebrows rose to disappear beneath the hair which ever hung over his forehead. “To feed fear?”

  “Should I not understand my enemies?” Had she not learned from Scarth and Hosni the danger of pretending foes did not exist?

  He untied her staff from her pack and examined it. “They hunt silently—no howls.”

  “Then their prey has no warning?” She tossed aside her feather tickler and took her staff. How quickly happiness could evaporate. And yet—how very improbable—the joy remained. Very like their subterranean river it flowed deep within.

  “None. And their endurance is legendary—they can maintain a melo-swallowing lope for thirty fingers of the sun or more.”

  She ran her hand over the stick. “No wonder they’re used to scare children—children— nursery rhymes!” She grabbed his arm. “I just remembered. Our nursery rhyme about the resre tree ends with a line about werfs. I’m sure of it.”

  Kyam urged her forward. “And it tells of a way into the tree?”

  “I think so. I don’t remember.”

  “You remember there is a rhyme. You will remember more.”

  Thumping her leg, she muttered, “Not enough.”

  “When it is needed, Ya-Wyn will whisper it. Just keep listening.” He pointed to their right. “See that massive tree? It will be our next haven.”

  She nodded. “But what good is the rhyme even if I remember? What are the chances we will stumble across a resre just when we need it? They may not even grow in this part of Capular. I don’t remember any near Lipfar. Tell me more of the werfs.”

  He kept his voice low. “They hunt in packs of five, each with a designated role according to age and species.”

  “Species? There is more than one kind of werf?”

  “They change as they mature. And each has a different task according to their strengths.”

  Kyam led with Cierra stepping where he stepped, her arm outstretched so that her fingers grazed his back. “Surely there is a weakness in such predictability.”

  “Excellent thinking, wife. I know of one possibility.”

  “And that is—” Cierra used her staff to steady her crossing of a fallen tree, a behemoth with a massive girth.

  “The first werfs to appear will harass us from the sides. Their job is to distract us, keep us from thinking clearly. And to prevent us from escaping. But not to attack. They are the young untrained members of the group. The next two will spring out in front of us. Our first instinct will be to turn and run. A deadly mistake for the leader will be waiting behind us to close in for the kill. And it is his honor alone to execute. One other thing—they change greatly with age.”

  “In what way?”

  “They appear to mutate from one species to another.”

  “How can that be?”

  “I know not. The young are canine in form. And I am told that in the ancient times they kept that form all their lives. But now, as they age, they take on the form of a feline.”

  “From dog to cat? Their natural enemy?” Cierra tried to imagine what such a change would look like.

  Kyam pointed to a tree. “That is our next haven. Do not The Masters warn that we become like what we worship?”

  “But you said enemy, not deity.”

  “Fear and hatred can also be forms of worship. Whatever we perceive as most powerful assumes god-like proportions in our eyes.”

  She shivered. The thought of becoming like His Eminence... “And the third kind of werf?”

  “The leader loses all semblance of an animal.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “A massive insect. Giant wing span. Powerful legs that can leap small trees. And a tremendous jaw. It is said to break bones with a single snap.”

  Her artist's eye painted a horrifying picture. "Wait. Wings—trees will not save us."

  Kyam shrugged. "Our only hope is to hug the trunk where the branches are thick. Our version of a rabbit hiding in a prickly thicket."

  "Masters have mercy!" Her heart stumbled at the thought of what courage would be required.

  “Where They call, They also gift. When you need it, it will be there.” He sounded so sure. “Any more nursery fragments?”

  She shook her head then spent the next melo muttering to herself, substituting soo-soo for forgotten words.

  To seek the resre’s rest

  Requires soo soo

  With a soo you must soo

  Soo soo soo heart

  If both be soo

  The gate will soo soo

  No werfs may enter here

  Nor soo soo deep.

  ✽✽✽

  Five times Kyam chose successive havens—each one a tree.

  Cierra started at the beginning of the rhyme—again. “To see the resre’s rest, requires, requires...” She huffed in frustration.

  “Does it rhyme with rest? Vest, test, best.” Kyam hopped a small stream and started up a short rise.

  Cierra, trying to imitate his stride, landed in the water. Boots squishy, she followed. “Best. Yes. Requires your best.”

  He held out a hand to pull her up the slope. “Excellent. What is next?”

  She found she was unable to start in the middle and had to begin again with the first line. And was stymied at the same place on the third line. “With an, an —oh, why can’t I remember?”

  “Go on to the next line.” He kept his voice calm, while she wanted to scream.

  “Something, something to heart.”

  “Take it to heart?”

  “No—I don’t think so.”

  “Hold it in your heart?” How was he able to think so clearly?

  She swung her stick at a nearby weed and decapitated it.

  “Then move on to the next line. I think I heard you say ‘If both be soo.’”

  She pointed her stick. “Pure. That’s it: pure.”

  “Ah, pure hearts.” He smiled and motioned her to continue.

  “Pure. Then we need a word to rhyme with it. Sure. Lure. Dure.”

  “Dure?”

  She shrugged, “I’m spreading a net to catch all possible fish. We can toss out all the squid.”

  “Do not be too hasty. While I doubt dure is a word, endure is one.” He held a branch so it wouldn’t slap her face.

  “Yes! You’re brilliant. Endure. The, the, the gate, that’s it, the gate will long endure.” Cierra, stepping past him with a smile, rounded a curve and crested a hill. When her gaze left his and shifted ahead, her breath caught. “No! Oh, no.”

  “What?” Kyam griped his knife and swung past her. He froze.

  Ahead and to both sides as far as she could see, trees lay next to their stumps. No attempts to harvest the wood or trim the branches had been made. It was wanton destruction. Desecration.

  “Who would do such a thing?” she whispered, clutching his arm and peering over his shoulder on tiptoe.

  “It reminds me of a battlefield where the fallen are left without proper burial.” Kyam looked to both sides. “How far can it extend?”

  Cierra shivered and pressed close to him for comfort. He looked back at their trail, his face grim. “We must retrace our steps.”

  “But—”

  “No havens.”

  When they tried to turn back, Castoff barred their path. Fur bristling, he snarled at some scent only he detected. Kyam’s hold on Cierra’s waist tightened. “Masters, see our plight. Grant us wisdom and ingenuity.” He turned her to face the field of slaughter. “Come. Keep a good hold on your staff.”

  “Of what use is it?” She panted; his pace kept increasing despite the endless hurdles of toppled trees that made trotting difficult.

  “When the second set of werfs rush us, wait until the last moment then ram your staff down the throat of the one lunging at you.” He lifted her over a tumbled tangle of trees and looked her in the eye. “It will not be enough to stop all fi
ve, but it is better to fight.”

  When. He said when, not if. A calmness settled over her. The trembling in her belly ceased. All fog lifted from her mind. It was the suspense, the wondering and not knowing that created such tremors in her body. But now, with the certainty of what she faced, she discovered the strength to meet it. The mountainside consisted of a series of swales and hollows rather than a straight descent. They scaled another small crest. Still, destruction as far as they could see.

  Kyam pointed. "There. A resre."

  Chapter 5

  Cierra strained to see atop another rise on the far horizon. “Perhaps. It could be no more than wishful thinking, but there seems to be a slight tinge of blue at the top.”

  She panted, exertion and fear stealing her breath. To dispel her terror, she imagined Kyam, Castoff, and herself safely tucked in the resre's bowl. But the picture betrayed her. “The insect can surely reach the resre's top. How easy for it to kill us there, trapped as we will be.”

  “That tree is our only hope—it alone still stands. And remember, it is mentioned in the nursery rhyme.”

  "Could we not build a wall at our back from these fallen trunks?"

  “On the ground we must fight all five werfs. In the tree, only one.”

  "Quickly now.” Kyam forded a stream, towing her along. Castoff splashed across in two leaps.

  Her heart pounded. “The werfs are near?”

  “Fairly so.”

  “I’m not to turn when one appears in front of us and I’m to wait until I can ram my walking stick down its throat. Anything else?”

  “Instant, unquestioning obedience to anything I say—can you do that?”

  Here was her opportunity to show him she’d changed. “I will.”

  “Until then, listen to Ya-Wyn. Now, more than ever, we need the missing piece of the rhyme.”

  It took several heart beats to retrace her mental steps and return to the place in her mind where the rhyme was stored. “Heart. Heart to heart. Yes.” She looked ahead. The resre was visible now standing as a sentinel: the only tree whose heart had not been torn out. “Heart to heart.”

  Kyam grabbed her hand, “Keep listening. Here is what we must do. No, do not run yet. That would signal panic and they will close in. The first two should appear shortly. Remember to ignore them.”

  They skidded down another slope, barely keeping their legs untangled from rotting branches half hidden in the tall grass. Jabbing the ground with her staff helped immensely.

  “With The Masters’ intervention they will fall back. Then the second pair will rush us. My friend said that unlike the first, they are permitted to wound. Courage, Mela Dolsi.”

  “Merciless killers.” She measured the distance to the tree. At least seventy scentons.

  “Once you have incapacitated the werf attacking you, run as hard as you can for the resre. Castoff and I will hold them off as long as possible—the leader can only bring one of us down at a time.”

  She gritted her teeth against a sob. Kyam needed her to be strong, to not make his task any greater than it already was.

  Castoff growled. She looked to her left.

  A great beast, a shaggy and unkempt wolf-like creature, barreled from the brush. Its snarl revealed gleaming white fangs. But it was the eyes that terrified her—red, hate-filled, and consumed with blood lust. Kyam’s hand held her firmly on one side while Castoff pressed against the other.

  The werf plowed to a halt less than two scentons away. The smell of fetid animal made her gag. It danced in a stiff-legged frenzy, howling and parrying—darting close then pulling back. One paw could hold her to the ground. One bite could rip out her throat. The second young werf appeared on the other side of Kyam. They were hemmed in, nearly surrounded.

  Just as Kyam had said, these werfs remained at their sides, harrying but not touching. She looked ahead, watching for the next surge.

  And they came, streaming over fallen logs in fluid, graceful movements. These two had the supple lines of a feline, muscles bunching and stretching under burnished short hair, except for tufts of ragged fur that sprouted like feather dusters across their rumps. Their heads had a sculpted triangular shape.

  But the eyes were the same: deadly and filled with hate.

  “They are truly werfs, not another species?”

  “Yes. Are you ready?”

  Cierra leaned forward to charge at his command. The werfs were close enough now that she could smell their rage. They screamed a challenge. She saw their eagerness to kill and maim. Their thirst for a victim was enormous. They leaped closer—she saw saliva drip from their curled lips.

  “You and Castoff take the one to your left. I will see if there is more than noise to this one.” Kyam released her arm. “Ready? Now!”

  Yelling, she lunged toward the beast. Castoff growled his contempt and aimed for its throat. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a blur of movement as Kyam rushed the second werf.

  The werf in front of her opened its mouth to scream. There was no time to think or fear, just act. She rammed the stick in, forcing her way past lethal teeth. Its look of astonishment was almost as satisfying as the way it backed up choking, gagging, and shaking its head. Castoff, taking advantage of the beast’s surprise, dove for its throat. The lash of its claws left stripes down the dog’s neck, but Castoff returned the favor by tearing out a chunk of flesh.

  The werf backed away—belly low to the dirt—with yowls of rage.

  “Run!” Kyam’s yell sent fresh strength coursing through her. Up the last little hill they pounded. As she raced toward the resre, the words heart to heart sounded to the rhythm of her feet. She measured the distance to the tree. Could they make it? What did it matter, since she had failed to remember the rest of the rhyme?

  Castoff loped so close to her he brushed against her hand. She felt him quiver. Kyam allowed only enough space to freely swing his arm. The cat-werf reappeared on her left and rushed them. She swung her stick. “Go away, you ugly, vile thing.”

  It danced just out of reach.

  Cierra felt Castoff’s muscles bunch. “No, stay.” He whined his compliance. The werf on the right bounded into view. Its momentum carried it a farthong too close. Kyam slashed with his knife. The beast yowled and backed away, blood dripping from its snout. Kyam wiped his blade without slowing.

  Her back prickled. “Four have completed their tasks. Does that mean the leader is near?”

  “Yes.”

  Kyam swerved around a pile of logs. “Remember, their only role is to terrorize and distract, so that we panic and turn to our deaths.”

  She again measured the distance to the resre. Was it moving away as fast as they approached? Or did fear make it seem so?

  “Peace. Masters, give us Your peace that we might hear Your instructions.” Kyam’s free hand brushed her arm.

  Like a wave breaking on the shore, a wall of calm washed over her and drenched her in its clarity. It formed a vast cave around her and within its walls she heard Ya-Wyn’s whisper. ‘With an embrace you must start.’

  She grabbed Kyam. “We must wrap our arms around the tree.”

  “Thank you, Masters,” Kyam sprinted up the last rise, Cierra scrambling to keep pace. “Will any kind do?”

  Cierra panted at his side, more from anticipation than exhaustion. “Probably not.”

  She strained to hear Ya-Wyn’s voice. And it came: ‘And with it stand heart to heart.’

  “Heart to heart.” she grinned at Kyam.

  “Ah, I am to hug a tree?”

  The danger was making her light headed; she giggled. Only her beloved could joke at such a time. “Your arms should reach even that great girth.”

  Now the resre stood just ten scentons ahead.

  “Don’t look behind you. When I wrap my arms around the trunk, climb up my back and look for an opening. Once you are in the cone, attach a rope if you can to help me climb.”

  She wanted to argue that he should climb first and pull her in. But she
had given her word. With no breath left for anything save running, she nodded her understanding.

  Kyam lengthened his stride to reach the tree four steps ahead of her. Going down on one knee he wound both arms around the orange trunk. Castoff arrived next. He whirled to face their enemies. Using her momentum from the run, she scaled Kyam’s back and scanned the leafy blue cone above.

  With a creak of long disuse, several branches at the base of the cone separated where they attached to the trunk, creating a slit. The slit widened until even Kyam could enter—if he turned sidewise. She measured the height needed to reach the slit and rested her free hand against the bark. “So high. How will we ever—-”

  “Even standing on my back will not be enough.”

  She eased off his shoulders and onto the ground. Cierra glanced over his shoulder at the werfs. They had fanned out and stopped. “What is restraining them?”

  “Perhaps The Masters’ hand? Do you see anything to which we can secure a rope?”

  She tilted her head, leaned to the left, twisted to the right, “Nothing. Smooth as a baby’s cheek.”

  “Nothing in your rhyme?” He checked on the werfs again. They hadn’t moved, but they made up for their lack of physical aggression with screams and howls.

  She thumped her fist against the resre. “Not that I remember.”

  “What are we to do, Masters?”

  Castoff growled. They turned to see the werf leader. Cierra gasped. Before them stood a hideous creature. Like a giant mantis, the insect studied them. Taller than Kyam, it had long multi-jointed legs, large hinged jaws in a flat triangular head, and waving antennae. This was the final state of werfs? This bloodless insect? Its jaws looked sharp enough to rend metal.

  It crept closer—but without the bold confidence she expected. Was it fearful? If so, of what? Surely not them. The only other possibility was the resre itself. There were plants that had a deadly effect on insects. Her mother grew some in her garden to discourage insects from gorging on her favorite flowers.

  A swishing sound, like a woman gliding in silken skirts, drew Cierra’s eyes back to the tree. Her breath caught.