Haplo, sitting at ease by the fire, watched the woman play with the children. The woman was lithe and lovely. Her thick chestnut hair fell over firm, round breasts, tattooed with the magical runes that were both shield and weapon. The baby she held in her arms was likewise tattooed-every child was from the day it was born. She looked up at Haplo and something special and secret was shared between them- his pulse quickened.
“Come on,” he whispered, kneeling beside her. “Let’s go back to the hut.”
“No,” she said, smiling and looking at him from a veil of thick hair. “It’s too early. It would offend our hosts.”
“The hell with our hosts!” Haplo wanted her in his arms, wanted to lose himself in the warmth and the sweet darkness.
She ignored him, singing to the baby, teasing him throughout the remainder of the evening until his blood was on fire. When they eventually sought the privacy of their hut, there was no sleep for either of them that night.
“Would you like a baby?” she asked, in one of their quiet moments after the transports of pleasure.
“What does that mean?” He looked at her with a fierce, hungry eagerness.
“Nothing. Just . . . would you want one? You’d have to become a squatter, you know.”
“Not necessarily. My parents were runners and they had me.”
Haplo saw his parents dead, bodies hacked to pieces. They’d clouted him on the head, knocked him out so that he wouldn’t see, so that he wouldn’t scream. He said nothing more about babies that night.
The next morning, the squatters had news-a Gate up ahead had supposedly fallen. The way was still dangerous, but if they could get through, it would mean another step nearer to escape, another step nearer reaching the rumored safe haven of the Nexus. Haplo and the woman left the squatters’ village.
They made their cautious, wary way through the thick forest. Both were expert fighters-the only reason they had lived this long-and they recognized the signs, the smell, and the prickling of the runes upon their flesh. They were, therefore, almost prepared.
A huge, furry shape, man size, leapt from the leafy darkness. It caught Haplo around the shoulders, trying to sink its teeth in his neck for a quick kill. Haplo grabbed the shaggy arms and jerked it over his head, letting the beast’s own momentum carry it forward. The wolfen crashed to the ground, but twisted around and was on its feet before Haplo could drive his spear into its body. Wild yellow eyes fixed on his throat. It jumped again and hauled him to the ground. Grappling for his dagger, he saw-as he fell-the woman’s runes on her skin glow bright blue. He saw one of the creatures dive for her, heard the crackle of magic, and then his vision was blocked by a hairy body trying to tear out his life.
The wolfen’s fangs slashed at his neck. The runes protected him and he heard the creature snarl in frustration. Lifting his dagger, he stabbed the body on top of his and heard it grunt in pain, saw its yellow eyes blaze in anger. Wolfen have thick hides and are tough to kill. Haplo had done little more than infuriate it. It was after his face, now-the one place on his body not protected by runes.
He blocked it with his right arm, struggling to push it away, and kept stabbing at it with his left. The wolfen’s claw-fingered hands grasped his head. One twist, and it would break his neck.
Claw-fingers dug into his face. Then the creature’s body stiffened, it gave a gurgling scream, and slumped over his. Haplo heaved the corpse off of his body, found the woman standing over him. The blue glow was fading from her runes. Her spear was in the wolfen’s back. She gave Haplo a hand, helped him to stand. He didn’t thank her for saving his life. She didn’t expect it. Today, maybe the next, he’d return the favor. It was that way … in the Labyrinth.
‘Two of them,” he said, looking down at the corpses.
The woman yanked out her spear, inspected it to make certain it was still in good condition. The other had died from the electricity she’d had time to generate with the runes. Its body still smoldered.