Night Season

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

They were better than halfway down the mountain the next day when the mountain moved.

Cynna had been through an earthquake before. She'd even been outside when it hit—in a forest, of all things. A forest in California, part of a national park, where she'd been hunting a missing twelve-year-old. It was been a small quake, but still pretty spooky.

She hadn't been on horseback, though. Horses do not like earthquakes.

They were spread out when it happened, headed across a tilted cup of land with a fairly shallow grade. Trees surrounded the cupped meadow—mostly evergreens, but a few stubborn oaks, too, their winter-brown leaves still clinging to their limbs. It was probably pretty here in the Day Season. Beneath the thin snow cover was lots of dead grass.

Grass and snow, with dirt beneath rather than rock—it could have been a lot worse.

The moment the land started to dance, so did Cynna's horse. The screams didn't help. Those big, bad Ahk warriors were yelling like crazy. Cynna had a few moments to think she was doing okay, staying on her frantic horse in spite of everything. Then the animal reared.

She lost the stirrups, felt her butt leave the saddle, and grabbed—but there was no pommel on the saddle, and the fistful of mane she did seize slipped right through the stupid mitten. She ended up on her back with the breath knocked out of her.

By then the ground had stopped moving. She lay flat, caught in the wide-eyed terror of a spasming diaphragm. She could not inhale. Endless seconds later Steve's face hovered over her. "You okay? Cynna! Hey, you okay?"

Suddenly she sucked in a huge gulp of air. Blew it out. Did it again. Oh, air was sweet. "Yes, I'm… breath was knocked out. I don't think anything else… hey, no groping." Steve was running his hands up one of her legs and down the other. She managed to push up on one elbow and grin. "You'll give me ideas."

"You're all right?"

That was Daniel, who'd also dismounted. He knelt beside her as he spoke.

"Fine. That damned horse…" A weird keening got her attention. She sat up the rest of the way, staring. "I'm not so sure about them."

About half the Ahk were prostrated on the ground, their voices rising in an eerie ululation. Some of the horses liked that about as much as Cynna did—they were shying away.

Some horses were just plain gone, she realized. Including hers. "I guess they aren't used to earthquakes here."

Chulak hadn't dismounted. He bellowed something the charm didn't translate, then more words that it did: "This is not the displeasure of Hrvash! The mountain trembles because some fool has the medallion, a fool who does not know how to use it—or who uses it against us!"

The keening faltered. Stopped. A couple of the prostrate Ahk sprang to their feet and waved their fists in the air, yelling things about killing those who attacked them.

The others liked that theme, adding to it that "they" had offended Hvrash by attacking his holy mountain.

The mountain was holy? Someone should have told her. Maybe she wouldn't have cursed it so often. Cynna pushed to her feet, looked around for Gan. The little not-quite-gnome had been riding double with one of the Ahk, as usual. "You think the earthquake was caused by the medallion being in the wrong hands?"

Daniel grimaced. "I hate to agree with Chulak about anything, but it's possible. These mountains are supposed to be geologically stable."

Steve spoke slowly. "The Council thought the flood in that place—what was the name?—was caused by the disruption the medallion is experiencing."

"Experiencing? More like causing." Cynna frowned. She didn't see a small, orange body anywhere, either moving or still. "Where's Gan?"

"Some of the horses spooked, ran off ahead," Steve said. His own horse was placidly nudging the snow aside, hunting for grass to crop. "Her rider must have lost control of his mount."

"We'd better look for her. For my stupid horse, too." Cynna set off, limping slightly. Her hip hurt. She hadn't noticed that until she started moving. More liniment tonight.

Chulak assumed they were trying to escape. On foot. At a slow walk.

She glared up at him on his horse. They were surrounded by seven of the mounted Ahk. "Idiot. We're looking for Gan. For my horse, too, and I think you've got a few of those missing yourself. We'll be sure and let you know if we see them."

Ahk were so armored by their own superiority that they scarcely noticed insults—at least Chulak didn't. The big leader gave orders and his minions snapped to obey, trotting their horses toward the downhill exit from the little meadow. Rock and earth humped up at that end, with a single opening. Runaway horses would react like anyone in a panic, Cynna supposed, taking the easiest route—downhill, not up, and through an opening rather than clambering up the sides of the rocky hummock.

As soon as the horses and their riders moved out of her way, Cynna started walking again. So did Steve and, after a moment, her father, the two men leading their horses. Chulak stared at them with that massive indifference Cynna hated. He didn't bother to stop them.

"Guess someone gave him a clue," she muttered.

"You like to push it, don't you?" Steve said.

"Sometimes." When she was pissed all the way down. Like now. Why now, rather than at any one of a number of moments in the last days—or weeks—she couldn't say. She just knew she'd had enough.

Not that it changed anything.

She heard some of the Ahk calling out up ahead, but they were on the other side of the rocky hummock, which kept the charm from working, so she didn't know what they said. They sounded cheerful, not upset.

A few feet beyond the opening in the hummock the trail veered left, running between masses of trees. She hurried along it. Up ahead a bunch of horses blocked the path. She heard rocks falling. Laughter. A screech—Gan's voice. That had to be Gan. No one else was nearly that high-pitched.

Cynna lurched into an awkward run, her hip making her slow. Steve shot ahead of her.

More voices, and this time the charm worked: "Catch this one, then, little one!"

Gan screamed.

"Arkhar, you missed! Such a bad shot you are—she can't catch them unless they come much closer!"

"Try it with a bigger one, Sithell. Maybe she can catch a bigger rock."

Steve shoved his way past the horses. "God damn you!" he yelled. "Stop it!"

Cynna squeezed between big, smelly horse bodies, getting switched in the face by one animal's tail, and came out in a wide spot in the trail. Or what used to be the trail.

Five Ahk were gathered at a drop-off where there should have been more trail. After ten or twelve feet of hole-in-the-ground, the trail resumed. A lone Ahk stood on the other side with his horse, running his hands over one of the animal's back legs.

On this side, one of the Ahk stood at the edge holding a rock the size of his head in both hands.

Steve stood beside him, quivering with anger. He didn't seem to be aware that the Ahk was two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier than him. "I said put it down, motherfucker!"

The Ahk didn't have a charm to translate Steve's words, but he had a pretty good idea what the human was saying. That was obvious from the way he sneered when he spoke.

Cynna's charm said, "Maybe you want to catch it this time? But we didn't ask you to play, human." And he dropped the rock over the edge.

Gan screeched again, an ear-splitting howl that mixed with the sound of the rock crashing down and down and down.

"Chulak!" Cynna screamed "Get your ass over here! They're killing one of your hostages!"

Steve wasn't waiting on Chulak to sort things out. His fist shot out in a punch to the gut that startled the big rock-dropping warrior more than hurt him. The others started laughing even as Steve rammed his shoulder into the Ahk's belly, twisting his body—and shoving.

The Ahk teetered on the edge. And started to fall.

One gray hand shot out and seized Steve's arm. Steve threw himself back, pulling them both away from the edge before he was dragged to the ground. The big Ahk swarmed over him, teeth and tusks bared in a snarl made for nightmares.

He went for Steve's throat with those tusks.

Cynna's boot landed on his temple. Hard.

She hadn't been positioned right, so the kick wrecked her balance. She fell against another big, gray body. Two huge hands seized her arms, holding her upright. The Ahk she'd kicked shook his head once, as if puzzled. Then collapsed.

The one holding her spoke thoughtfully. Her charm said, "Good kick."

"Steve Timms?" Gan's voice rose from the hole, thin with fear. "Cynna Weaver? Are you killed?"

"Not yet," Cynna called back. She jerked away from the Ahk holding her, moved to the edge, and peered down.

Some kind of sinkhole, she thought. But it was dark down there. She couldn't see a thing, not even a bright orange thing, so she sent her mage light down.

"Cynna," Steve said, his voice muffled, "when you get a chance, I could use some help getting this asshole off me."

"I'll do it," Daniel said. He sounded out of breath.

"You okay, Steve?" Cynna's mage light drifted down, and at last she saw Gan.

"Fine. Sure, I'm fine."

The hole was round. Was that normal for sinkholes? The sides were almost smooth, almost vertical. Impossible to climb. Cynna couldn't see the bottom. She did see the tree that, collapsing when the earth beneath it suddenly vanished, had wedged itself across the hole about twenty feet down. Gan clung to one of its branches.

Those miserable assholes had been chucking rocks at her. Big rocks. Even if they didn't hit her, they could have dislodged the tree.

Chulak's distinctive rumble made her turn. He still sat his horse, staring down at his men. Her charm whispered, "Sithell. Report."

The one who obliged with a terse account was short for an Ahk and built like a tank. The Ahk carrying Gan had, as they thought, lost control of his horse. The animal had been running flat out, with no chance of stopping when he saw the sinkhole. They'd jumped it—but the rider lost his grip on Gan. When the others arrived, they'd been so relieved that the horse took no hurt that they'd felt playful.

Chulak did not. "Which of you leathin thought I did not need so many hostages?" He paused. "Did one of you—any one of you—think at all?"

Sithell spoke respectfully. "It seemed the mountain had decided to swallow the orange one. We did not wish to argue with Hvrash's mate."

"But you thought she would not object if you chucked rocks down her throat?"

Looked like the Ahk knew a rhetorical question when they heard one. No one said a word. So Cynna did. "I need rope. Now."

Chulak's head turned slowly. "Come here."

That did not sound good. Balking wouldn't help, though, and she wanted that rope. She walked up to his horse.

His hand shot out. A sledgehammer hit the side of her head, knocking her down. Dimly, through the roar in her ears, she heard him rumble, heard the charm whisper: "I do not like the way you speak to me."

She didn't quite pass out, but she wasn't fully there, either, as they discussed Gan's rescue—and the punishment of those who'd risked losing one of Chulak's hostages. Three of them lost a finger. One—the one she'd knocked out—lost two fingers. They waited for him to come around so he could chop them off himself.

While they went about their bloody business, Cynna distracted Gan from her plight by describing the way Steve had championed her. Her father sat behind her, propping her up. That felt weird, but it was a nice weird.

Finally they gave Steve a rope, and he hauled Gan up.

The former demon was scratched, bruised, and bloody. Her blood was red, as red as anyone else's. Her eyes were huge. "You saved me," she whispered to Steve. "You fought the Ahk to make him stop. He's huge and could kill you, but you fought him."

She lurched forward suddenly and clasped him around the knees. Hugging him.

Steve made a strangled sound and staggered. "Little too tight." He sought Cynna's eyes wildly, his expression pleading.

She smiled with the half of her face that wasn't broken and made a patting motion.

He got it. He bent and patted one bare, scraped orange shoulder. "Had to do something," he told her gruffly. "Dirty bastards. And you're one of us, right?"

The round, bald head bobbed in a nod. As suddenly as she'd latched on, she let go. She limped over to Cynna and threw her short arms around Cynna's shoulders, squeezing—which hurt. Gan was a lot stronger than she looked.

Fortunately, she let go quickly. She stared at Cynna, her ugly little face fierce. "I understand now. I understand."

Cynna didn't, but whatever revelation had come to Gan, it was important. So she smiled with half her face and reached out and squeezed one dirty, stubby-fingered orange hand. "I'm glad."

The Ahk wouldn't consider risking their horses by jumping the sinkhole, a sentiment Cynna heartily—if silently—agreed with. They had to find another route down. By the time they halted to make camp, they were in low, rolling hills, partly forested. And Cynna was dizzy with exhaustion.

The only reason she hadn't keeled over from pain was that she'd finally given in and used her no-pain spell a couple hours earlier. It was for emergencies only because it stopped pain completely, but also stopped the healing.

But the son of a bitch who'd hit her refused to stop, and falling off her horse wouldn't help her head much.

Of course, she probably could have told Chulak she couldn't stay on the horse any longer. He wouldn't have stopped, but he didn't want her falling off and damaging herself. He'd need her to find the medallion's trail again, so he'd probably have had one of his people ride behind and support her, the way they'd been doing with Daniel until today.

Turned out she was just stupid enough, just stubborn enough, to try to out-tough three hundred-pound bipedal rhinos who cut off their own fingers to show remorse for endangering their leader's possession. And then rode for hours and hours and hours without complaint.

Bastards. And she was an idiot, which was abundantly clear the moment she dismounted and cut the juice going to the no-pain spell… took three steps, and threw up.

Concussion. That's what Chulak's healer said, via her charm, when he checked her out. He had her lie down in her blankets and did a warm-hands thing, cradling her head, that made her sleepy. She had barely a second to think, oh, he's putting me in sleep, just like ,,. before she conked out.

That's how she came to sleep through the battle.

The next thing Cynna knew was another pair of hands on her face. These were cooler, the fingers long, the palms smooth. These hands stirred her awake instead of sending her away, cool hands that warmed her from the inside out.

She blinked her eyes open and looked up at dark, long-lashed eyes… full lips, parted in a small smile. Black hair with silver wings was pulled back, revealing a face so exquisite it stole the breath she'd just taken. Honey-colored skin and pointed ears… dazed, she lifted a hand but didn't quite dare touch him.

"Who are you?" she breathed. Her pulse pounded in her head. It hurt. The pain distracted her somewhat from the pulse pounding elsewhere, but not entirely. No, not entirely.

"Why, I am your prince, Sleeping Beauty," he said in a voice like fog and mist, a voice she could have listened to for hours. A voice with a hint of huskiness, as if he, too, felt the delicious stir of arousal. "Come to kiss you awake."