The Realms of the Gods. Tamora Pierce

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СКАЧАТЬ she couldn’t name; they shifted and rolled just at the corner of her mind’s eye. Creatures that should not exist wailed in voices that made her ears bleed; dreadful scents reached her nose and tore at the delicate tissues inside. She lost control over her eagle body and dropped.

      In losing her form, she broke the magic’s grip. Frantically Daine shifted into the first shape that came to mind. Just before she hit the ground, crow wings grabbed the air and dragged her aloft. When she was safe in the new form and out of reach, she looked down.

      The Skinners had formed a circle. Their eyeless heads were turned up, as if they could see her. She scolded with the excitement of fear, cursing them in a crow’s beautifully nasty vocabulary.

      Her foes were not impressed. Spreading out in a line, they began to march forwards. Daine shuddered. What had she sensed? What were those things made of? She would have to ask Numair. For now, she slowly made herself an eagle again. A bird of prey was a better glider than a crow, and she needed the eagle’s sharp eyes.

      Below, the monsters lumbered on. The leftmost Skinner was about to step over a small hutch when it stopped. Bending down, it grabbed at the small door, yanking it off its hinges. A rabbit streaked by on its way to freedom. Before Daine could even guess what was happening, the Skinner seized its prey and held its prize up by the ears.

      The hare convulsed. Its fur and hide vanished, ripped off in an eye-blink. Patches of fur appeared all over the Skinner, dull against the gleaming stickiness that was its own flesh. The hare now dangled, motionless. The thing dropped it, and touched a patch of fur that had appeared on its belly. The patch grew, then shrank, and was gone.

      Horrified, Daine called up her magic again while the Skinners walked on. She searched the village for more abandoned animals. There was a chicken coop on the edge of town. Its occupants could sense nearby monsters; they shrieked their alarm. She didn’t stop to remember that she despised chickens for their stupidity and their smell. Once more she dropped, taking on her true shape as soon as she touched the ground.

      Fumbling at the rope latch on the coop, she glanced around. More than anything, she wanted to see the Skinners before they saw her. The rope gave. Chickens erupted from the coop, showering Daine with feathers, scratching her and squawking in her ears. ‘Stop it, you idiotic birds!’ she whispered. ‘Shut up, clear out, and get away from here!’

      She used her magic to give them brief wisdom. The chickens raced into the forest, away from the approaching monsters. Daine took eagle shape for the third time, watching the Skinners from high above as she waited for Numair to arrive.

      He threw off his cloaking-spell when he and Spots reached the dead zone, and Daine glided down to meet him. Taking her pack, she dressed behind a tree as she reported what she had seen. When he dismounted, she unsaddled Spots and sent the gelding into the still-living woods, out of the Skinners’ path.

      Numair passed her crossbow and quiver to her. ‘Can we beat them?’ he asked.

      Daine’s blue-grey eyes met his dark ones. ‘I don’t know,’ she said truthfully. ‘I’ve never seen the like of these things.’ Putting a foot in the crossbow’s stirrup, she drew the bowstring until it hooked over the release.

      The man sighed and dropped his cloak over their packs. Black fire that sparkled with bits of white appeared around his body. ‘Give me that quarrel,’ he said, holding out a hand. She obeyed, passing over the bolt that she’d been about to load. He closed long fingers over it, lips moving, then handed it over.

      Daine placed the quarrel in the clip, then led him to their quarry. The Skinners had finished with the village of Greenhall and had entered a nearby peach orchard. Half of the trees were stripped of their bark. Even the green fruit had lost its skin.

      Numair looked ill. ‘Is it all like this?’ he asked.

      ‘Worse. There’s acres of it, clean back to the hills.’ She raised the bow to her shoulder, taking deliberate aim. The Skinners, in the middle of the orchard, turned to stare at them – if they could stare.

      Daine shot. The quarrel flew straight, and buried itself in one Skinner’s head. Numair gestured; an explosion tore the air. The Skinner blew apart, showering its companions with pieces of itself. The others looked around in apparent confusion.

      Daine started to grin, but stopped. Swiftly each of the Skinner chunks doubled, redoubled, and spread. Each sprouted a pair of stumps to stand on, and stretched. Now there were ten Skinners, five large and five smaller ones. Their attention fixed on her and Numair, they came at a run. Daine slipped another bolt into the clip of the bow.

      The mage raised a hand. Black fire jumped away from him and swept over the monsters, pulling them into the air. The Skinners thrashed and broke through his control, hurtling to the ground. Slowly, they got up.

      ‘I hope the owner of this orchard forgives me,’ muttered Numair. Stretching out his hands, he shouted a phrase that Daine couldn’t understand. The ground before the advancing Skinners ripped open. They dropped into the crevasse.

      Numair trotted towards it, Daine right behind him. ‘If I can seal them into the earth, that may be the end of it. I certainly hope so.’ Halting at the edge of the crack, they peered in. ‘I hate simply blasting them with raw power like this. There is always a spell to uncreate anything, though the consequences may be – oh, dear.’

      The Skinners were climbing the sides. Numair jerked Daine back, shouting a word that made her ears pound. The earth rumbled, knocking them down; the crack sealed.

      ‘Please, Goddess, please, Mithros, let that stop them,’ whispered Numair. Sweat dripped from his face as Daine helped him to stand. ‘Grant a boon on Midsummer’s Day—’

      Daine heard something behind them and whirled. Ten feet away, crude hands erupted through dirt. ‘Numair!’ she cried, and shot the emerging Skinner. Unmagicked, her bolt had no effect. The creature rose from the ground as if it climbed a stair.

      Numair cried out in Old Thak. The creature that Daine had shot turned to water. The man whirled to do the same to another Skinner. Half out of the earth, it dissolved.

      Five spots near them exploded as Skinners leaped free of the ground. Daine screamed. Numair reached to pull her closer, and discovered that someone else had the same idea. Two pairs of hands clutched the girl by the arms, dragging her into a patch of air that burned silvery white.

      ‘No!’ shouted the mage, wrapping both arms around Daine. The phantom hands continued to pull.

      Sinking into white pain, Daine heard a man shriek, ‘Curse you, follow them! Follow, follow, FOLLOW!’

      Unseen by her or Numair, an inky shadow leaped free of the grass to wrap itself around her feet. Girl, man, and shadow vanished into bright air.

      Every inch of her throbbed. Hands gripped her; she fought. ‘The Skinners! They’ll kill Numair, they’ll kill the People, they’ll kill the crops! Let me go!’

      A female voice, one that she knew, said, ‘If she doesn’t rest, she won’t heal. He’s just as bad. Both keep fretting about those monsters.’

      ‘I’d best take care of it, then.’ The second, gravelly voice was even more familiar.

      ‘Why?’ The speaker was an unknown male. ‘Leave mortal affairs to mortals.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ barked the gravel СКАЧАТЬ