Darkvision by Bruce R. Cordell Read Free Book Online Page A

elves’ arrows in the meantime.
    The hoofed one rounded the knoll’s edge. Iahn had enough experience with sorcery to recognize its infernal taint. It held up a hand, not speaking. Its eyes gleamed as if lit by tiny lavender flames. An answering fire burned in the creature’s crystal amulet.
    It said, “Then you will die all the sooner.” It spoke not in the language of the elves—it used the speech of Imaskar.
    This surprised Iahn. Perhaps these were guardians placed by the fugitive after all?
    “Who are you?” demanded the vengeance taker.
    “I am Deamiel, but you’ll have little enough chance to remember it.”
    “Wait,” interrupted Iahn. “Answer me this—do you serve the one called Ususi Manaallin? Has she set you against me?”
    Deamiel executed a tittering shriek. It said, “We serve a power greater than mortal flesh. We are its eyes, its hands, and its claws. Ususi Manaallin will fall to us by its command.”
    “This ‘power’ you serve—who is that?”
    “The death of all that remains of Imaskar!” So saying, Deamiel pointed a finger at Iahn. “Slay this filth!”
    The vengeance taker threw himself backward and tumbled expertly through the gap between the troll’s legs. His enemy’s slow-witted confusion provided him with temporary cover from the dervish archers. A quick motion married Iahn’s thinblade back into the hilt of his dragonfly blade, freeing one hand to gesticulate just so. His voice was unimpeded and able to verbalize, and residual power sang in his blood from his last sip from the damos. These, too, were his weapons and his defense, just as surely as his thinblade.
    Iahn assayed a quickslide, pushing his talent to the brink. The light dimmed. He skipped through space as far as he could. Two hundred paces, perhaps three hundred…
    The broad side of the travel coach stood directly in front of him, occluding the sun’s glare. The vengeance taker leaned his weight against the side of the coach with his free hand, breathing hard but quietly. He was drained. He knew the creatures would not give him up quickly if Deamiel spoke the truth about slaying all from Deep Imaskar. One thing was clear—the creatures did not serve the fugitive.
    They must be a further materialization of the troubles that had erupted in Deep Imaskar, Iahn mused. All the more reason for him to catch the fugitive, and quickly.
    Iahn peered into the side window of the coach and saw it was empty. Cabinet doors stood ajar, and cups, food canisters, a shattered tea pot, an overturned lamp, and other items littered the floor and surfaces of the interior.
    The creatures had been inside the coach when he’d first come upon them. They didn’t know where Ususi was, either. But she had to be close. She wouldn’t abandon her travel coach—it contained all her provisions. Of course, she could summon a mount at a moment’s notice to bear her—but Iahn suspected she had invested too much in the coach to leave it behind.
    The vengeance taker studied the nearest dolmen up the slope and the unfolding hills beyond. He decided that the best place to look for the fugitive would be somewhere in those downs.
    On the other hand, he knew the cat-headed thing and its minions would find him quickly enough—he hadn’t shifted more than a few hundred yards—unless he put more distance between them and himself.
    He was already moving forward in a low, quick dash, ascending the slope, making for the first dolmen. If he could keep the coach between him and his pursuers’ eyes just long enough…
    “There! There!” Cries of discovery chased Iahn up the hill. The vengeance taker’s posture changed—staying low no longer served any purpose. He lengthened his stride and pumped his legs, calling upon all his reserves.
    He reached the first dolmen without catching an arrow or magical blast in the back, ducked behind it, and peered back carefully.
    The four pursuers had crested the knoll where he’d first attempted to waylay the gray troll,