For grief the only true cure is patience. For patience there is no cure.

Assured Remedies, by Tabetha Hawthorn

CHAPTER 17

Evar

When not tending to Kerrol, who proved to be a very needy patient, Evar patrolled the perimeter, or at least where he judged it to be. He wasn’t able to speak to the humans, though he did want to learn their language, and he didn’t enjoy the way his presence seemed to unsettle them no matter how non-threatening he tried to be.

On perhaps his seventh circuit of the day, Evar heard what sounded like rockfall, the source of the noise hidden by the plateau’s edge. He’d heard the odd stone rattle down from time to time, eased out of broken cliffs by the wind’s persistence. But this sounded like something more substantial.

First, Evar made a thorough study of the skies. Clovis was still below ground with Arpix but he didn’t need her present to hear her lecture him in his mind about the dangers from above. When he was convinced there were no fliers ready to swoop, Evar advanced quietly towards the meandering line where the flat ground fell away.

Poised to dash back towards the sanctuary, Evar peered over. The cliffs, formerly shaded in browns and rust, were clothed in white. More than a hundred skeer warriors were labouring to roll half a dozen or more big whitish-grey balls up the slopes and making hard work of it. They must have advanced to the plateau’s base under cover of night.

A runner, secreted near the top, lunged at Evar and he fell back with a bark of surprise. His scrabbling feet found purchase before the monster dragged itself over the brink on long, sharp legs. Evar shot back to safer ground and turned just in time to see the runner bounce off the invisible wall and collapse into its own dust cloud in an untidy mess.

“Skeer! Skeer!” Evar sprinted back to the others.

“They can’t get in, surely?” Kerrol, lying flat on his back, levered himself up to his elbows.

“Well, since they know that better than we do, let’s assume they didn’t come so far in such numbers just so we can laugh at them. They’re bringing something with them.” Evar grabbed hold of one of the confused human males and pointed him at the plateau’s edge. “Skeer.” He said it in their tongue.

“Get Clovis!” Kerrol said, but Evar was already on his way to the tunnels.


Clovis answered his shouts almost immediately, emerging from the darkness covered in dust.

“Skeer! Over a hundred warriors, and they’ve brought something with them.”

“Show me.” Clovis hurried past him.

“Arpix?” For a moment Evar worried that Clovis had left him dead in the tunnels.

“He won’t make a difference,” Clovis said. “Let him howl.”

Evar followed her with a frown. “Howl?”

But any answer was lost when the dozen or so skeer that had reached the top began to manoeuvre the first of the large spheres up onto level ground. The thing looked rather like a wind-weed ball but with far fewer gaps. It was woven from some sort of vitreous exudate of similar consistency to the skeer’s own armour plates.

The ball jerked from side to side and it soon became apparent that it was less the weight of it that required so many skeer to propel it, and more the violent motion of whatever was trapped inside.

An awful scream rent the day, an inhuman cry, shuddering with rage. It seemed that whatever was in the ball had been unconscious for some while and was now waking. Another, weaker, scream rang out from somewhere down the cliffs. If these unknown captives had been awake the whole time then a stealthy approach would have been impossible.

Evar and the others watched as scores of skeer warriors slowly dragged seven of the spheres onto the plateau, lining them up close to the barrier that defied them.

Arpix, breathless and red-faced, came running up from the tunnels as the last sphere was rolled forward. All the humans were talking at once. Arpix pushed through them to stand between Clovis and Evar. “Those are the screams of cratalacs. Very dangerous creatures, I’ve heard, though I’ve never seen one. They hunt only at night.”

“I think you’re about to see seven of them.” Evar could see motion in all the spheres now, and the first to arrive was starting to crack in several places as the prisoner raged inside. All the skeer were drawing back, dozens already gone from sight as they retreated down the cliffs.

“The skeer must know your wall won’t stop them.” Clovis turned to look at Arpix. “We have brought a war to your doorstep.” She drew her sword, the blade brilliant in the sunlight. “This is my fight, not yours.”

Arpix reached for her, showing a familiarity that astonished Evar. “Livira always said you can’t win a fight with a cratalac. We should retreat to the tunnels.”

Clovis shook him off without reprimand. “Here I get to face one while the rest are trapped. It may still be sedated.”

“It doesn’t sound sedated.” Kerrol was on his feet, rolling his shoulder and wincing.