The Skull of the World by Kate Forsyth Page B

goblins found them just after dawn. Isabeau had thought they were safe thanks to the snowfall which had hidden her tracks. The lingering smell of her smoke drew them, however, and they came hollering and shrieking up the gorge, waving their weapons. Woken from her sleep by Buba, Isabeau peered out from under the fallen tree, remembering all the dreadful tales the storytellers told about the uka, who were said to consider Khan'cohban flesh a great delicacy, particularly if it had been well tenderized by a long, slow, painful death.
    She scrambled back into the shelter of the fallen tree and drew one of the half-burned faggots out of the ashes of her fire. Pushing the lion cub behind her, she made the faggot burst into flame just as the goblins swiped their spears under the tree trunk. With shrieks of fear and rage, they leaped back and Isabeau thrust the burning torch at their faces. The goblins retreated and she gave one of the terrifying war cries of the Khan'cohban and chased after them. They ran squealing but circled around to jab at her from the rear. She swept the torch around, throwing a ball of flame at the nearest goblin with her other hand. Although he dodged, his coat of uncured animal skin took flame and he had to roll shrieking in the snow to put it out. A few more feints with the burning torch and the goblins retreated once more.
    "Well, that's the goblins taken care o'," Isabeau said to the baby lion. "I must be on my way, though. What am I meant to do with ye then?"
    He gave a little mew and she said consideringly, "I wonder where your parents are. Are ye an orphan? Or did ye just wander away? Ye were wet through. Had ye fallen in the stream? If so, ye cartna have wandered far. Your den must be near where I found ye. Shall we go back there?"
    He yawned widely, his pink tongue curling, then began to limp away down the gorge.
    "So ye want to walk on your own four feet, then," Isabeau said. "Bide a wee, laddie! I'm no' quite ready."
    The cub turned back to look at her, then sat with his fluffy tail curled around his paws. Isabeau let the jealous little owl crawl inside her sleeve, tied her skimmer to her back and thrust her supplies back in her satchel, then began to retrace her steps. The lion cub bounded along before her, hampered only a little by his bandaged paw.
    They arrived back at the ravine and clambered along the rocky shore of the stream, keeping a close watch out for any more goblins. Although the sun shone in a blue sky overhead, the gorge was shadowy with many boulders and crevasses where the hideous creatures could hide.
    Isabeau caught the sharp odor of lions and her step slowed, though the lion cub gave a little meow of excitement and bounded forward. Isabeau tested the breeze to make sure she was downwind, then crept forward, peering over a huge round boulder.
    The gorge widened out into a sunlit corrie with caves in the walls and flat rocks around a little spring of water which bubbled too swiftly to freeze over, despite the snow that heaped the rocks all around. A lion was drinking at the spring, his thick white coat blending in with the mounds of snow. He was huge, with a magnificent black-edged mane and great golden eyes. Behind him three lionesses basked in the sunshine, their cubs playing by their side. To one side another lioness prowled about anxiously, sniffing the rocks.
    As the injured cub rushed forward, she bounded down the rocks, deadly and graceful. She bowled the cub over with one heavy paw, then sniffed him all over. The smell of Isabeau's ministrations caused her to snarl and tumble the cub about roughly, and he whimpered a little and lay meekly under her paw, belly up. The lion raised his majestic head and walked ponderously over to where the lioness crouched over the cub. He sniffed the little lion all over and then lifted his lip in distate. Isabeau slowly crept away, glad to see the cub had found his parents but not willing to risk talking to them. Although she had been