Siq, but if he couldn’t pick up the trail outside the pass, wouldn’t it make sense to go on to Glensk Wood, to travel through the night and reach the village by dawn? He could always resume tracking the Drouj afterward, couldn’t he?
But he hated the idea. He needed to respond directly to Sider’s death, and the only way he could do so was by catching up to Arik Siq. Letting him slip away now, no matter the reason, felt like a betrayal. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he let the Drouj get away, possibly for good.
At the far end of the approach to the pass, still walking among the dead, he felt a sudden surge of warmth from the black staff. It caught him by surprise, and he drew up quickly, stopping where he was. He stood looking at the staff in surprise, noticing that the runes were beginning to glow softly, to pulsate.
What was happening?
It took him a moment to decide. The staff was warning him. It was responding to something that he had not detected; it was telling him that something was wrong.
He looked around, taking in his surroundings, peering off into the shadow-laced trees and the wide rocky stretches of the hillside that led up to the pass. He studied everything carefully, searching for anythingthat seemed to be out of place. But everything looked as it should. Out of habit, he dropped into a crouch, making himself a smaller target, no longer silhouetted against the fading light.
He looked at the staff. It continued to pulse.
Then he saw it. Not three yards away, all but invisible in the darkness, a trip cord stretched across the trail leading downhill. He followed its length both ways until the ends disappeared into the gloom. Dropping flat against the ground, he crawled forward just far enough that he could reach the cord with the end of the staff, and he gave it a sharp poke.
Instantly a handful of black objects flew through the darkness right in front of him, their passage so swift he only caught a glimpse of movement. He heard the missiles ping as they bounced off rocks some distance away, steel striking against stone. Then everything was quiet again.
He poked the trip cord once more, just to be sure, but nothing happened. He stood, walked up to the wire, and followed it in the direction the black objects had gone. He found several some distance away, lying on the ground. Darts, the tips laced with poison, their butts notched to fit a bowstring. He walked the other way and found the bow, cleverly wedged in the rocks so that it would not shift, its bowstring hanging limp from guy wires where the trip cord had released it.
So he had been right to be cautious. Arik Siq was setting traps, intent on putting an end to any attempt at pursuit. He wasn’t running blindly, after all. He had taken time to stop and construct this ambush, knowing it would be dark before anyone following got this far.
Pan looked down at the black staff. The more important revelation was here. That the staff’s magic had warned him of the danger was a complete surprise. Pan hadn’t summoned the magic or even thought to do so. He had never considered the possibility that the staff might be able to act unilaterally. He had assumed all along it only responded to the commands of the user. But the unbidden warning he had been given demonstrated clearly how wrong he was.
Perhaps, he thought suddenly, summoning the magic wasn’t even necessary. Perhaps the magic responded to something more complex and personal. To the user itself? To the user’s immediate circumstances?
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
Was the staff in some way sentient?
He didn’t know. He couldn’t be sure. Not yet, not on the strength of a single event. But the possibility was there, right in front of him. The staff might be more than a tool of magic. It might be an extension of the bearer himself.
The way forward made safe, he started off again, more slowly now, watching for traps. He descended from the pass and into the foothills,
But he hated the idea. He needed to respond directly to Sider’s death, and the only way he could do so was by catching up to Arik Siq. Letting him slip away now, no matter the reason, felt like a betrayal. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he let the Drouj get away, possibly for good.
At the far end of the approach to the pass, still walking among the dead, he felt a sudden surge of warmth from the black staff. It caught him by surprise, and he drew up quickly, stopping where he was. He stood looking at the staff in surprise, noticing that the runes were beginning to glow softly, to pulsate.
What was happening?
It took him a moment to decide. The staff was warning him. It was responding to something that he had not detected; it was telling him that something was wrong.
He looked around, taking in his surroundings, peering off into the shadow-laced trees and the wide rocky stretches of the hillside that led up to the pass. He studied everything carefully, searching for anythingthat seemed to be out of place. But everything looked as it should. Out of habit, he dropped into a crouch, making himself a smaller target, no longer silhouetted against the fading light.
He looked at the staff. It continued to pulse.
Then he saw it. Not three yards away, all but invisible in the darkness, a trip cord stretched across the trail leading downhill. He followed its length both ways until the ends disappeared into the gloom. Dropping flat against the ground, he crawled forward just far enough that he could reach the cord with the end of the staff, and he gave it a sharp poke.
Instantly a handful of black objects flew through the darkness right in front of him, their passage so swift he only caught a glimpse of movement. He heard the missiles ping as they bounced off rocks some distance away, steel striking against stone. Then everything was quiet again.
He poked the trip cord once more, just to be sure, but nothing happened. He stood, walked up to the wire, and followed it in the direction the black objects had gone. He found several some distance away, lying on the ground. Darts, the tips laced with poison, their butts notched to fit a bowstring. He walked the other way and found the bow, cleverly wedged in the rocks so that it would not shift, its bowstring hanging limp from guy wires where the trip cord had released it.
So he had been right to be cautious. Arik Siq was setting traps, intent on putting an end to any attempt at pursuit. He wasn’t running blindly, after all. He had taken time to stop and construct this ambush, knowing it would be dark before anyone following got this far.
Pan looked down at the black staff. The more important revelation was here. That the staff’s magic had warned him of the danger was a complete surprise. Pan hadn’t summoned the magic or even thought to do so. He had never considered the possibility that the staff might be able to act unilaterally. He had assumed all along it only responded to the commands of the user. But the unbidden warning he had been given demonstrated clearly how wrong he was.
Perhaps, he thought suddenly, summoning the magic wasn’t even necessary. Perhaps the magic responded to something more complex and personal. To the user itself? To the user’s immediate circumstances?
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
Was the staff in some way sentient?
He didn’t know. He couldn’t be sure. Not yet, not on the strength of a single event. But the possibility was there, right in front of him. The staff might be more than a tool of magic. It might be an extension of the bearer himself.
The way forward made safe, he started off again, more slowly now, watching for traps. He descended from the pass and into the foothills,
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