Fosco was still staring at Al-Astir when the star disappeared then
reappeared a few moments later. Something
had passed in front of it. Fosco
peered into the midnight sky. There!
It curved gracefully from the south, large wings pumping powerfully.
As it soared from cloud to cloud it glimmered silver in the full
moonlight. Straight to the Tower it flew, like a mote of dust cast loose
from the heavens to land in the Eye of the Eludoi.
For it did indeed seem to be making for the Seeing Room.
Fosco opened
the window and a gust of wind hit him full in the face.
He leaned out to see the winged creature better, then fell back as the
shape shot into the room with a giant sweep of silver feathers.
Fosco tripped and fell hard to the floor.
There was a heavy thud on the desk above him.
He lay on the floor groping for his spectacles.
The wind funneled in, swirling Fosco's papers around like so many useless
leaves.
Once Fosco
found his spectacles, he stood up and closed the window.
Papers settled to the floor, and there on the desk was a large
leather-wrapped bundle. As he
reached toward it, something fluttered above him.
Fosco pulled his hand back and looked up.
On top of one
of Fosco's heavy bookcases sat a great owl.
He was silver-gray, and from his perch he blinked at Fosco with tiny
yellow eyes. He was nearly half
Fosco's size and he eyed him curiously. Fosco
stared back, and for one odd moment it seemed that he was looking at his own
reflection.
The owl made
a low-throated hoot and looked at the desk.
At a loss to do anything else, Fosco turned to the package.
It was long--almost as long as Fosco was tall--and he found it heavy when
he tried to lift it.
"What is
it?" he asked, more to himself than to the owl.
The owl blinked and remained still.
Fosco adjusted his spectacles and began to untie the leather cord.
The heavy
covering was damp, and Fosco could see marks where the owl had held it in its
talons. The bird must be incredibly
strong, he thought.
His thoughts
were interrupted by another sound from the owl.
The large bird was clearly agitated, and began to flap his wings
violently.
"What
now?"
Then he heard
it: heavy booted steps on the tower stairs.
Before he could react, the door burst open, revealing a giant of a man
standing in the doorway, staring at Fosco with one gray eye.
He was dressed all in black and he waved a great broadsword at Fosco
menacingly. Underneath a tangle of black hair, the dark eye looked
sternly at the meek historian. The
other eye lay hidden behind a black patch.
The swordsman dropped a sack on the floor and charged at Fosco, who
shrank back.
"Come!" the man roared, holding out a hand, "They're after
you!"
"Who?"
"There
is no time," he said, pushing Fosco roughly.
"Grab the stone," he said, "I will get the bundle."
"Wait,"
said Fosco, halting. "Who are
you? You can't just--"
The warrior
shoved him toward the door. "Later!"
But before he could push the little historian through, the sound of
wailing howls echoed up from the bottom of the stairwell.
He yanked Fosco back into the room and away from the door.
He stuck his head through the doorway and swore.
"Back!"
he cried. "They're coming!
Get back against the windows if you want to live!"
And
now Fosco's heart froze, for he heard the shrill shrieks of terror welling up
from below. He retreated to the
windows. "What are they?"
he gasped.
But
the man only slammed the door shut and began piling furniture against it.
"Let Moonbeam out," he yelled as he worked.
"Moonbeam?" Fosco asked.
"The
owl! Open the window for him!"
Moonbeam was
hovering impatiently near the windows that were the eyes of the tower, so Fosco
threw them open. The wind blasted
in again, this time bringing freezing rain in with it.
The owl Moonbeam soared out into the night.
Fosco followed him with his eyes as he arced around to the north and out
of his view.
Fosco picked
up the stone from the desk and put the chain around his neck, tucking it under
his shirt. He slid a chair across
the room and began to help the man block the door.
The howls increased until Fosco could barely think.
"I am
Eryk McAlpin," the stranger yelled to him as they worked.
"I'm here to protect you. I
knew your father."
Fosco
stopped. "My father?
But I don't even know my father."
"Your
Uncle Oren sent me."
"I have
an uncle?"
The warrior
paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "You
possess a blue stone?" he asked.
"Yes,
but--"
"And a
small tattoo under your left knee?"
"Yes,
but how--"
"Never
mind how, just trust me."
A tremendous
crash shook the door. Eryk reached
into his knapsack. "Here!"
he shouted. "Tie this rope to the desk then throw the rest of it out the
window." Fosco did as he was
told. The rope was thick and heavy,
and by the time he had finished his hands were raw and bleeding.
He leaned against the wall to catch his breath.
The shrieks
came from just behind the door now, and they increased in fury as the unseen
stalkers continued to pound against it.
"Climb
down the rope to the bottom of the tower," Eryk ordered as he drew his
sword to face the door. "I
will be right behind you."
Fosco
shielded his face against the biting wind and looked down to the rocks over a
hundred feet below. "I can't
climb that far down!"
"You
must, or else die here. The nakrim
will tear you to shreds. Besides,
your wife and children are waiting for you."
"Milly?
Where is she? Is she all
right?"
"I
left them in the east tower with the old man.
They are safe enough. It's
you the nakrim are after."
Fosco
had one foot out the window. "You
left a blind man to guard my family?"
"Just
go!" Eryk shouted, as the door thundered again.
Fosco grabbed
the thick rope with two hands. The rope was slick from the icy rain, and his hands were not
large enough to get a good grip on it. He
sat straddled on the window ledge, unable to make himself climb down.
Outside the icy wind howled, but inside the nakrim shrieked.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the window's edge, shivering.
The stinging rain dripped down his face, soaking into his shirt.
I can't do this, he whimpered to himself.
Why is this happening?
"Fosco!"
Eryk's voice
boomed in Fosco's head. He turned
weakly to face the warrior but he could not see Eryk.
The frozen rain had fogged up his spectacles.
Everything was blurry and he was paralyzed with fear.
Suddenly Eryk
was there at the window with him. "Listen to me, Fosco!" Eryk pleaded.
"You have to go, and now."
He grabbed Fosco by the shirt and looked him in the eye.
"I can hold them up here while you climb down, but you must start
climbing now."
Fosco nodded,
and somehow got his legs over the edge and braced against the side of the tower.
Ignoring the pain in his palms he slowly began to walk down the side of
the stony Eludoi face. The rain
poured from the eyes of the tower like tears, drenching Fosco as he clung to the
rope.
Above,
the door to the Seeing Room exploded open and the shrieks of the nakrim wailed
into the night as they stormed into the chamber.
Fosco heard the door slam closed again, and the booming voice of Eryk
McAlpin rang out in challenge:
"For
the Uplands!" The sounds of
the battle were lost in a sudden gust of wind that caught Fosco and sent him
spinning in the dark, twisting and dangling high above the rocks.
Milly and the children huddled together against the back wall of the
uppermost room of the east tower. Willem
and Nib were wrapped in their blankets, but still they shivered in the chill
night air. Milly fingered the small
band of gold on her left hand.
The windows
of the east tower were nothing more than gaping holes in the stone, and the rain
swept in unchecked. Derry had tried
unsuccessfully to get a fire going in the long-unused fireplace.
He paced back and forth, clenching his fists.
"Elias,
are you sure you trust this one-eyed man?" he asked for the third time.
The
blind man turned from the inner door where he had stationed himself.
He pulled his gray cloak tighter and nodded.
"I have known Eryk McAlpin for many years," he said.
"He will protect Fosco from the nakrim."
"What
are they?" Derry asked. "I've
never heard anything make a shriek like that."
"Undead
hounds," Elias answered grimly, "on the hunt.
They always travel in packs of thirteen--twelve hounds and a
master."
"Undead?" Derry shivered.
"Then are the rumors true?" "Does the Dark One walk again?"
"Derry,
Elias, please," whispered Milly, "you're scaring the boys."
He lowered
his voice. "Well what are
these nakrim doing on Iys?"
Elias sighed.
"Looking for Fosco."
"Derry?"
Milly's voice sounded oddly strained.
"Derry, would you take the boys, please?"
She grimaced and held a hand to her stomach.
He rushed to
her side, scooping up the boys. "Emilia? What
is it?" he asked.
Milly closed
her eyes and exhaled deeply. She took another deep breath.
"I think the baby is coming."
In the west tower, Eryk and his great blade Ösbrand spun and leapt from
corner to corner, a whirl of black and silver.
The nakrim howled and snapped at his legs, but Eryk McAlpin moved too
fast--liquid moonlight in the high chamber of the ancient fortress.
Eryk
overturned tables, swung from the high chandelier, and slashed mightily with the
sword of his ancestors. The blade
was keen and bright, and before long five of the creatures lay slain on the
chamber floor, while the other seven growled through bared yellow teeth at the
mighty figure of Eryk the Uplander. He
stood tall on a table surveying the room with a cold gray eye.
One of the
hounds made a dash for the rope that disappeared out the window.
Eryk leapt to the desk, bringing Ösbrand down in a high arcing slash,
and slew the creature where it stood. The
other six charged the Uplander but a shrill whistle called them back.
It was their keeper, a hulking monstrosity of bony hide and deadly claws.
It stood at the door of the chamber, sniffing through crooked nostrils,
and its three eyes blazed forth with an unholy light.
From its malformed mouth a brass whistle protruded.
The keeper blew three sharp blasts and the remaining nakrim returned to
its side. It had sensed that its
prey had gone. The stone was
outside now, so the keeper turned to the door.
But
the lock was too small for the keeper's large clawed hands.
It began to roar and foam, and then to beat at the door with its heavily
plated arms.
Eryk came at the six hounds, and before the
keeper had turned round again, three more were dead. With a tremendous bellow, the keeper flexed its claws and
advanced on Eryk, followed by the three remaining nakrim.