“I’m going. I have to go, back to my people-”
The sound of the snakeskin drums began again, the beating louder, more urgent. Drugar, watching out the window, turned.
“What does that mean, human?”
“They’re coming,” Rega said, lips stiff. “That’s the alarm that means the enemy’s in sight.”
Paithan stood, irresolute, divided between his loyalty to his family and his love for the human woman. “I’ve got to go,” he said finally, abruptly. The cargans, tethered outside the door, were nervous, tugging against their reins, growling in fright. “Hurry! I’m afraid we’ll lose the animals!”
“Roland! Come on!” Rega’s grip tightened on her brother.
“Why bother!” He shoved her away.
Drugar clomped across the room, leaned over the table where Roland sat, shivering. “We must not separate! We go together. Come! Come! It is our only hope.” Pulling a flask from out of his wide belt, the dwarf thrust it at Roland. “Here, drink this. You will find courage in the bottom.”
Roland reached out his hand, snatched the flask, and put it to his lips. He drank deeply, choked, coughed. Tears glistened in his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, but a faint flush of blood stained the pallid skin.
“All right,” said Roland, breathing heavily. “I’ll come.” He picked up the flask, took another swallow, and cradled it close.
“Roland-”
“Let’s go sis. Can’t you see your elf lover waiting? He wants to take you home, to the bosom of his family. If we ever make it that far. Drugar, old buddy, old pal. Got any more of this stuff?”
Roland flung his arm around the dwarf, the two of them headed for the door. Rega was left standing alone in the center of the small house. She gazed around, shook her head, and followed, nearly running into Paithan, who had come back, searching for her.
“Rega! What’s wrong?”
“I never thought it would hurt me to leave this hovel, but it does. I guess it’s because it was all I ever had.”
“I can buy you whatever you want! You’ll have a house a hundred times this big!”
“Oh, Paithan! Don’t lie to me! You don’t have any hope. We can run”-she looked up into the elf’s eyes-“but where will we go?”
The sound of the drums grew more urgent, the rhythm thumping through the body.
Doom and destruction. You’ll bring it with you.
And you, sir, shall be the one who leads his people forth!
Heaven. The stars!
“Home,” said Paithan, holding Rega close. “We’re going home.”
They left the sound of the drumbeats behind, riding through the jungle, urging the cargans as fast as they dared. Riding cargans takes skill and practice, however. When the creature spreads its batlike wings to take off, to glide through the trees, it is necessary to cling with the hands, grip with the knees, and almost bury one’s head in the animal’s furry neck-or risk being brushed off by hanging vines and branches.
Paithan was a skilled cargan rider. The two humans, though not as easy in their saddles as the elf, had ridden before, and knew the technique. Even Roland, dead drunk, managed to hang on to his cargan for dear life. But they nearly lost the dwarf.
Never having seen such an animal, Drugar had no idea that the cargan was capable of nor had any inclination toward flight. The first time the cargan leapt from a tree branch, it sailed gracefully outward, the dwarf fell like a rock.
By some miracle-Drugar’s boot becoming entangled in the stirrup-the cargan and the dwarf managed to land in the next tree almost together. But it took precious time assisting the shaken Drugar back into the saddle, more time convincing the cargan it still wanted to carry the dwarf as a passenger.
“We’ve got to go back to the main highway. We’ll make better time,” said Paithan.
They reached the main highway, only to discover it was almost a solid mass of people-refugees, fleeing sorinth. Paithan reined in, staring. Roland, having drained the flask, began to laugh.
“Damn fools!”
The humans flowed sluggishly down the road that had become a river of fear. Bent beneath bundles, carrying children too young to walk, they pulled those too old along in carts. Their path was strewn with flotsam, washed up along the shore- household goods that had become too heavy, valuables that had lost their value when life was at stake, vehicles that had broken down.