In Red Rune Canyon by Unknown Page A

stain the back of his hand. Several days previously, a ground sloth had clawed his forearm, and he picked at the scabby gash when no one was watching to slow the healing and make an impressive scar.
    “You don’t know that,” Kagur said. “If the attackers wanted him dead, they could have killed him on the spot like they did everybody else. You don’t know they really came from Red Rune Canyon, either.”
    “They could just be orc raiders out of the Hold of Belkzen,” Eovath rumbled.
    Borog shook his head. “Smell the rot in the air. Our friends haven’t lain dead long enough to stink like that. That’s the smell of the unnatural things that killed them.”
    Kagur scowled. “Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. Dron still needs rescuing, and our dead need avenging.”
    Borog took a breath. “Look around. There are fewer of us than there were of those who lost their lives already, and you, Zorek, and the giant are young and green. How do you expect to win where a stronger band of warriors already lost?”
    “We can make a plan when we know more.”
    “Here’s the plan,” Borog said. “We’ll return to our tribes, and the chiefs will decide what to do next. Maybe they’ll decide to hunt and fight the killers properly, and you can ask permission to join the war party.”
    “By then, Dron will likely be dead or tortured.”
    “But you’ll be alive, and Jorn Blacklion won’t start a feud with the Eagleclaws because I let his idiot daughter come to harm.”
    “It’s not for you to decide what the ‘idiot daughter’ will do,” Kagur said. “You’re not my chief, and I’m going after Dron even if nobody else does.”
    “No,” said Borog, “you aren’t.”
    If his voice changed, his eyes shifted, or his hand gestured to give a signal, Kagur didn’t notice in a conscious way. But the rest of the hunters had drifted up behind her to listen to the conversation, and suddenly instinct screamed that they were reaching for her.
    She tried to spring forward, but hands grabbed her forearms and held her back. She stamped on a foot and snapped her head backward into someone’s teeth and jaw. That loosened the grips restraining her, and she wrenched herself free and spun around.
    Spreading out to flank her, her three assailants came after her. Backing away, she reflexively reached for her longsword, and they faltered, as well they might. Young as she was, she was skilled with a blade, and they knew it.
    But, her anger notwithstanding, she knew drawing a weapon would be stupid. She didn’t want to kill folk from friendly tribes, especially when, as they saw it, they were only trying to stop her from coming to harm.
    She hitched her foot, faking another step backward, and when they advanced, she threw herself at them. She punched Zorek in the solar plexus and made the breath whoosh out of him, but then her other two opponents grabbed her. One kicked her left foot out from underneath her, and they dumped her onto the ground.
    Kagur thrashed but couldn’t break their holds. Panting, Zorek came up behind them with a length of rawhide in his hands.
    A big blue hand caught him by the shoulder and flung him aside. Then Eovath bashed the other hunters away from her with two sweeps of his fist.
    Grateful as she was for the help, Kagur winced. Eovath was stronger than any human, and he hadn’t held back.
    Fortunately, her assailants weren’t seriously hurt, as they demonstrated by scrambling back to their feet. Unfortunately, they too deemed that the confrontation had escalated from a scuffle to a deadly serious fight, and they snatched for the weapons slung from their belts.
    Eovath lunged, caught Zorek before he could ready his axe, and heaved him into the air by his throat and arm. The lanky Eagleclaw’s face turned red, and he made gurgling sounds.
    Borog hefted a javelin. The upper edge of the leaf-shaped steel point glinted in the morning sunlight. “Let him go.”
    “You might kill me,” Eovath said,