18 - Battle In Selbaran
Lucy and Van burst into the clearing of the Well of Opals ... except it wasn't there. Where a wide, shallow pool should have been, there was only a dry bed of white rock and a flurry of hag footprints. And Van understood at once. Not poison at all. "They've drained it. They mean to starve the dryads of their magic, weaken them. Easier targets."
Lucy wrung her hands. "They'll still be closing the circle, won't they?"
"Follow me," he said, and rushed on, tracking the prints.
As they ran, he faltered. More prints joined the first set, some tiny, some larger than a man's. And then a giant cloven hoofprint that could only belong to a minotaur. Farther on, a set of horse hoofprints merged with the rest. Heavily pressed, probably carrying a large rider or heavy load. "There are too many for just us to fight," he murmured when they paused to study the melee of tracks criss-crossing the flattened underbrush.
"They just keep arriving," Lucy whispered, gesturing to another set of prints. "As if they are on the march." She studied the trail. "But they look like they're headed away from the castle."
"Toward the water," Van muttered, looking to the sky to gauge their distance from the ocean. Selbaran was an island. The Phoenix had anchored on the south end. The column they tracked was heading northwest. "They got what they wanted," he realized. He hoped grimly that didn't mean they'd closed the circle, but he'd find out soon enough.
A shriek of outrage came from the woods. Van darted to Lucy's side with his sai raised, only to see a rush of yellowing beech leaves streak past through the clearing. Clouds of oak, aspen, and larch leaves followed it. Dryads.
Lucy plunged into the forest after them.
"Hey!" Van shouted, completely forgetting the need for stealth.
"Come on!" her voice echoed.
He hurtled into the trees, listening for the sound of her footsteps. Nothing. He opened his mouth to shout her name, but bit down just before the word "Lucy" came out. Announcing her presence would only get her killed, and him along with her. "Leddy!"
"Here!" she called, but her voice seemed to come from everywhere, bouncing off the trees.
Van raced on, following the war party's trail and hoping she had done the same. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs as he ran. Madwoman! he thought furiously, even as images of her getting stabbed, beaten, or strangled flew through his head.
The sounds of combat reached him, and an instant later, he burst onto the war party. Without hesitation he slammed his sai through the first creature that came at him with a blade. The boggle crumpled at his feet. He ripped his weapons free, then ducked a blast of light from a wraith's clawed hand. "Where the hell are you?" he shouted.
Leaves rushed around him. A second later, the wraith's second attack was cut short in a painful shriek. Dryads filled the clearing, fighting hags, wraiths, efreets. Van couldn't help but stare as flashes of light and choking powder warred with vines filling the space, hampering the enemies' attacks.
Then he saw the horse. A man sat in the saddle, and over his lap lay a limp figure with long, pale hair and a shimmery dress.
Edmund's woman.
Van charged the horse, but a huge brown minotaur blocked his path. Van gasped and just missed losing his head to an ax swing. He dropped to one knee and thrust his sai into the creature's thigh. The minotaur's bellow of pain deafened him. Van smelled the sharp iron-scent of blood, and the hag in him howled with savage glee. He stuffed it into its box. Concentrate. Lucy.
The minotaur attacked again. Van rolled away from another ax swing and stuffed the handle of one sai between his teeth to draw a four-pointed throwing star from its pouch on his boot. He whipped it through the air toward the minotaur, and it struck the creature on its broad brow. Van snarled as blood poured down the minotaur's face, blinding it. Was going for the eyes, but I'll take it. He rushed the beast and finished it with a strike of his sai through its unprotected throat. "Leddy!"
Galloping hooves tore his attention away from the woods.
The horse slammed into him, and with a strangled whoof, he tumbled to the ground. The animal danced toward him, hooves flashing, its rider no doubt intending to trample him. Van hissed through his teeth, a perfect imitation of a hag's serpentlike attack rattle. The horse's eyes rolled and it tossed its head, resisting its rider. Van hissed again and the horse reared, throwing its rider and Edmund's lady into the leaf litter. He snarled at the horse until it plummeted away into the woods in terror, then pounced on the rider.
The man swung around with a shining saber in his hand. Van leaped back. The tip of the thin blade sliced over the front of his coat. He met the next swing with an upward scoop of his sai, then twisted the weapon and snapped the blade. The man dropped the broken saber with fury in his icy blue eyes, then pulled a knife from his belt. Van wasn't quick enough—the man jammed the weapon right into Van's belly, and twisted.
Agony blasted through him. Van screamed and his legs buckled. Dimly, he heard a shout and saw leaves rushing every which way through the air. The man kicked him away. He dropped to the ground, gasping as the man stepped over him to finish him off.
A knife whizzed through the air and into the man's throat. Van's attacker wheeled and collapsed with a dull thud. Van rolled to his back, his vision blurring and his belly aflame with pain.
Clouds of brown hair blocked the light, and he fixed on agate-blue eyes.
Lucy.
Even through his pain, relief and admiration flushed through him.
She cupped his jaw, opening it, then tipped something toward his mouth. "Drink this." He resisted, and she glared at him. "Fool, drink it! Do you want to die?" The words echoed in his head even as she tipped a drop of something hot onto his tongue.
And the pain ceased.
He gaped at her. As she corked her vial and tucked it away, he jerked his torn, bloody shirt up. The only marks on his belly, under the smears of blood, were scars that had been there for years. He gaped at her again.
The gleam of metal sliced toward them from the corner of his eye. She dropped flat on top of him, pushing him down as a nasty-looking studded club whooshed over their bodies. So fast he hardly saw it, Lucy rolled and punched with her feet at the ogre towering over them. She caught him in the knees. The creature growled and teetered back, forward, back, and then forward to land on its face in the grass. Lucy stabbed it in the back of the neck with another knife from Underland knew where. The ogre twitched and lay still.
Van gaped some more. "Where did you learn to ... ?"
"Get up!" she shouted. "The hags are still closing the circle!" She dragged him upright, already running. The dryads had surrounded the enemy troops and subdued them. One bent to help Edmund's lady. Van bolted after Lucy, still stunned.
Maybe they were both mad.