In the distance, a huge winged creature swept through the skies, its sinewy body covered in scales, its wings leathery and batlike, its jaws filled with razor-sharp teeth. It soared with silent purpose over the land below. Hunting, Drisker supposed. In this land, everything was hunting. He recognized the creature from descriptions he had read in the Histories. A dragon—Dracha, as it was called over here. They came in all shapes and sizes and were a dominant species.
Yet there were other, worse things living in the Forbidding. Much worse.
He walked for perhaps an hour, the world about him unchangingly dismal. The light, such as it was, did not brighten. He sensed the creatures about him as he passed, but none came near enough to offer a threat. Nevertheless, the threat was there, a constant presence. It made him fearful in a way he seldom ever was. With so much magic at his command—with so many weapons—he was not often overmatched or inclined to be afraid of what he might encounter. But that was not so here. In the Forbidding, the sheer number of predators was enough to overwhelm him. And in the Forbidding, everything was not only a predator, but also prey.
He tried to focus on other things, such as the whereabouts of Tarsha and Tavo, but quickly gave it up as pointless when the dark thoughts and the fear returned. He wondered if anyone would ever know what had happened to him. If the Kaynin siblings were both dead, how would anyone know? And even if they were still alive and had somehow escaped the witch, would they have any idea at all what had become of him? How would they find out? There was no one to tell them, no way to track him, no hint of his fate. Even if Tarsha wanted an answer to this question, she lacked the means to find it.
Ahead, the river came into view. And with it, directly in front of him, was a placid, clear pond. He stopped to make sure the pond wasn’t a mirage and, after deciding it wasn’t, pondered further whether its waters were safe to drink. But his thirst was raging, and the lure of potable water was so strong that he determined he must take the chance. The smell might be bad, and the taste foul, but it would fill a need he could no longer afford to ignore.
He walked to the edge of the pond, knelt, and slowly leaned down to test its water.
“What are you doing?” a voice cried out.
He straightened at once. A spindly, spider-like creature stood to one side of him, its Gnome-like face scrunched in disapproval. Hair sprouted everywhere from its crooked body, bulking up its otherwise scrawny form and giving it a wild, untamed look. A memory tugged at him.
“Do you intend to kill yourself?” the creature demanded. “Is that why you wish to drink toxic water? These waters”—he gestured at the pond—“will kill you in five seconds!”
Drisker’s memory returned. “You’re an Ulk Bog.”
“Brilliant. I suppose next you will announce that you have found yourself in the Forbidding and discovered how terrible it is!”
Drisker smiled. “And who are you?”
“I am one who is honored to serve she who was once Grianne of the trees and earth, she who was and remains the Straken Queen. She who I am proud to call my friend. I am Weka Dart!”
Drisker couldn’t believe his good fortune. “I know of you!”
The Ulk Bog beamed. “Everyone knows of me. They know of my intelligence and my skills. They know of my clever wits. They know of the value of my services.”
It was all coming together. Drisker rose. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”
Weka Dart nodded. “But you couldn’t tell I was there, could you? I was too clever for you.”
“You were. Now tell me, why were you following me? Did Grianne send you?”
“Ah, you are not so dim-witted as you appear. Of course she sent me. I am to make certain you reach her in one piece. That is possible, is it not? You are a Straken, aren’t you?”
Straken. Witch, in the common language of those imprisoned within the Forbidding. “I am a Druid. Like Grianne Ohmsford, your Straken Queen. She was once a Druid, too. We are alike.”
Weka Dart shook his head at once. “No, you are not like her. No one is like her. You aspire to be, perhaps, but you can never hope to compare.”
Drisker didn’t care to argue the point. “But she sent you to find me. So she knew I was here.”
“She knows everything—even your name. Drisker Arc.” He gave Drisker a determined look. “Do you hope she will take you for a mate?”
“What? No! I come for another reason.” Drisker changed the subject quickly. “So if you were sent to find me, why did you wait so long to show yourself?”
The Ulk Bog shrugged. “You seemed to be doing fine on your own. You managed to fool the Furies. You were traveling in the right direction and avoiding all the other bad things that might make a meal of you. You found a place to sleep that was safe enough—although I did have to dispatch a tree serpent during the night so it would not find you. But when you bent to drink the water, it was not something I could stand by and watch. My lady would have been very disappointed in me if I had.”
“Because I would have been dead.”
“Very.”
Drisker took a moment to assess the situation, as he now understood it. “Why did Grianne send you to find me?”
Weka Dart smiled, showing all of his sharp-pointed teeth. “That is for her to say, not me. We must leave now so you can find out.”
* * *
—
They set out at once. The Ulk Bog soon proved annoying beyond reason, chattering away as if it were as necessary as breathing. He never once paused and seemed to have no interest in any response the Druid might care to give. He talked about only one thing: Grianne Ohmsford. He extolled her virtues endlessly, going on and on about her intelligence and consideration for others, about her ability to lead the other creatures in the Forbidding, and about her wondrous accomplishments. Now and then, he also cataloged a few of his own small but valuable contributions to her efforts and the extent to which she relied upon his services.
Drisker put up with it for as long as he could, then stopped him midsentence. “I need to find water,” he insisted.
After grumbling about being interrupted, the voluble fellow advised patience and to trust in his intentions to help as soon as help was available. Which meant, Drisker discovered, until they reached the river. Once there, almost an hour later, the Ulk Bog found a stream coming out of the mountains that, while silt-filled and discolored, was drinkable. Drisker swallowed the water greedily and without hesitation, deciding he would have to trust this strange creature, like it or not, because there was no one else to turn to.
“We will eat when we stop for the night,” Weka Dart added before Drisker could ask.