see,” Rathe said, sword clearing the scabbard.
Durogg’s eyes had become orbs of fire. Flames leaped behind his teeth when he said, “Give me that thieving wretch, on the instant, or suffer the consequences of denying me.”
“Seems we’re at an impasse,” Rathe said. Here was a foe of flesh, which suited him better than facing one of shadow.
Durogg’s burning eyes narrowed. Instead of speaking again, he stabbed his staff toward Rathe. A hissing gout of fire shot through the camp, struck the spot where Rathe had been a second before.
Rathe had expected some kind of attack, but nothing like that. Stunned, he rolled to his feet, only to leap again when another column of fire burst from Durogg’s staff. This time he landed behind a boulder, and pressed his face against the crust of snow. Loro had disappeared into the dense brush above camp. The horses tugged at their ropes, and Horge’s yak was grunting and lashing out with its back hooves.
“Give me what I want, Scorpion,” Durogg warned, “or I will burn these mountains to cinders, and you with them!”
Before Rathe could respond, a blast of fire exploded round the boulder. He shut his eyes against heat so intense that it shattered the boulder. As the fire died, Rathe was up and away.
“There is nowhere you can escape!” Durogg shouted.
Rathe shut his mind to that, bulled his way deeper into the brush. Another roar of fire charred the foliage closer to camp, but dwindled a few paces beyond. He had no idea what manner of man he faced, but he had learned as a green soldier to seek high ground against all enemies. He did so now. Behind him, Loro scampered up the opposite side of the ravine.
After losing himself in deep darkness, Rathe made a sharp turn, and began clawing his way up the mountainside, using outcrops and the rare spruce to hide his progress. He went on until his breath burned in his chest and his legs quivered. He halted to peer around a boulder.
Durogg now stood in the middle of camp, feet planted in the cookfire. Flames licked around the hem of his robes, but did not burn them. He focused on a bush wiggling nearby, and blasted it with fire from his staff. After a brief flare, only smoking branches remained. Higher up the slope, across the ravine from Rathe, Loro darted from one boulder to another.
Rathe called a warning at the instant Durogg unleashed another stream of fire. It fell short, and Loro threw himself behind a pile of snow-covered rocks. Durogg seared a few more random spots, then moved to Horge’s gear, and began rifling through the panniers.
It crossed Rathe’s mind to let Durogg take whatever he was after. The problem with the plan was that he would never know if Durogg might be waiting somewhere up ahead, or sneaking up from behind. Either way, a man who could brandish fire as a weapon was not a man Rathe wanted hunting him.
While he studied his options, he shifted his footing, and the boulder rocked under his weight. He eased back and sat down. Bladed weapons of any sort were out of the question. Durogg’s fires seemed to lose potency after a few paces, but were deadly within the reach of sword and dagger. Rathe guessed his bow would work, but it lay in its case, alongside his saddle and bedroll.
Across the ravine, Loro popped up, cast about, then scurried back under cover. Horge never made an appearance. Rathe swore an oath to himself that if they got out of this mess, he would have words with the ratty little bastard.
Crusty snow was numbing his backside. Rathe carefully got to his feet, moved closer to the boulder. It shifted again, and he held his breath, sure Durogg had heard the low grinding. But no, the man was still busy rooting through Horge’s belongings.
Thinking to gain a better vantage point, Rathe set his feet and began to climb higher. Snow and rocks slid underfoot. Rathe went still, and the boulder rocked unsteadily. His eyes widened, and he glanced downslope.
With a quick check to make sure the
Durogg’s eyes had become orbs of fire. Flames leaped behind his teeth when he said, “Give me that thieving wretch, on the instant, or suffer the consequences of denying me.”
“Seems we’re at an impasse,” Rathe said. Here was a foe of flesh, which suited him better than facing one of shadow.
Durogg’s burning eyes narrowed. Instead of speaking again, he stabbed his staff toward Rathe. A hissing gout of fire shot through the camp, struck the spot where Rathe had been a second before.
Rathe had expected some kind of attack, but nothing like that. Stunned, he rolled to his feet, only to leap again when another column of fire burst from Durogg’s staff. This time he landed behind a boulder, and pressed his face against the crust of snow. Loro had disappeared into the dense brush above camp. The horses tugged at their ropes, and Horge’s yak was grunting and lashing out with its back hooves.
“Give me what I want, Scorpion,” Durogg warned, “or I will burn these mountains to cinders, and you with them!”
Before Rathe could respond, a blast of fire exploded round the boulder. He shut his eyes against heat so intense that it shattered the boulder. As the fire died, Rathe was up and away.
“There is nowhere you can escape!” Durogg shouted.
Rathe shut his mind to that, bulled his way deeper into the brush. Another roar of fire charred the foliage closer to camp, but dwindled a few paces beyond. He had no idea what manner of man he faced, but he had learned as a green soldier to seek high ground against all enemies. He did so now. Behind him, Loro scampered up the opposite side of the ravine.
After losing himself in deep darkness, Rathe made a sharp turn, and began clawing his way up the mountainside, using outcrops and the rare spruce to hide his progress. He went on until his breath burned in his chest and his legs quivered. He halted to peer around a boulder.
Durogg now stood in the middle of camp, feet planted in the cookfire. Flames licked around the hem of his robes, but did not burn them. He focused on a bush wiggling nearby, and blasted it with fire from his staff. After a brief flare, only smoking branches remained. Higher up the slope, across the ravine from Rathe, Loro darted from one boulder to another.
Rathe called a warning at the instant Durogg unleashed another stream of fire. It fell short, and Loro threw himself behind a pile of snow-covered rocks. Durogg seared a few more random spots, then moved to Horge’s gear, and began rifling through the panniers.
It crossed Rathe’s mind to let Durogg take whatever he was after. The problem with the plan was that he would never know if Durogg might be waiting somewhere up ahead, or sneaking up from behind. Either way, a man who could brandish fire as a weapon was not a man Rathe wanted hunting him.
While he studied his options, he shifted his footing, and the boulder rocked under his weight. He eased back and sat down. Bladed weapons of any sort were out of the question. Durogg’s fires seemed to lose potency after a few paces, but were deadly within the reach of sword and dagger. Rathe guessed his bow would work, but it lay in its case, alongside his saddle and bedroll.
Across the ravine, Loro popped up, cast about, then scurried back under cover. Horge never made an appearance. Rathe swore an oath to himself that if they got out of this mess, he would have words with the ratty little bastard.
Crusty snow was numbing his backside. Rathe carefully got to his feet, moved closer to the boulder. It shifted again, and he held his breath, sure Durogg had heard the low grinding. But no, the man was still busy rooting through Horge’s belongings.
Thinking to gain a better vantage point, Rathe set his feet and began to climb higher. Snow and rocks slid underfoot. Rathe went still, and the boulder rocked unsteadily. His eyes widened, and he glanced downslope.
With a quick check to make sure the
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