Free Storms of Destiny by A. C. Crispin Page A

the island kingdom of Pela.
    Turning south, it plunged into the jungle, deliberately picking a path along a muddy trail, and making only a cursory effort to smooth out its trail behind it. Even if the Hthras were fooled by this ruse, the jagowas would not be.
    Straining its rounded, upstanding ears, Khith listened with every sense for the sounds of pursuit.
    When it had gone far enough to reach the banks of the wide stream that its pursuers had crossed upstream, Khith paused to check that there were no killer swimmers there, then stepped delicately into the cool water. The Hthras stood there for a moment, allowing the liquid to flow around its spindly, furred legs.
    Quickly it took out the materials from its belt-pouch, arranging them in the middle of the leaf it spread across its hand. Hair, herb, dried husks of beetles, and finally …
    Khith took a deep breath and sank its sharp teeth ruthlessly into the skin covering its palm. When it drew back,
    two half-circles of red welled up. Khith held its palm over the leaf, letting the blood drip down until the silver-green was splashed with deep red.
    Quietly, it whispered the first few verses of the Chant for Confusing Trackers, tapping time with its wounded hand against its furry belly.
    “Searchers < beat, beat >
Seek to find me
Hunters < beat, beat >
On my trail
Forest < beat, beat >
Help to hide me
Help me with the Forest’s veil
Help me help themselves to fail.
    Slow them < beat, beat >
Glide me farther
Shake them < beat, beat >
While I run
Lose them < beat, beat >
Walk through water
Let this prey their hunt outrun
Slow their searching … or I’m done.
    Footprints < beat, beat >
Can confuse them
Backward < beat, beat >
Walking false
Streambeds < beat, beat >
Can refuse them
Draw them where the forest calls
Block them with your living walls.”
    Then the Hthras bent and placed the leaf on the water, releasing it to the sluggish current, watching for a moment as it went bobbing downstream.
    Glancing back over its shoulder, Khith took a slow, cautious step backward—then froze, ears alert.
    Those sounds! The swish of vegetation, the hushed sounds of voices, the low snarls of the jagowas— They’re right behind me!
    Khith forced back panic and took another step back, careful to ease its foot down into the same footprint it had made minutes ago when it had first walked up the muddy path.
    Another careful backward step, echoing the existing footprint, then another, and another …
    Khith’s heart was hammering so hard now that it was increasingly difficult to track the progress of its pursuers. It tried to control its breathing, listening so hard it seemed like a physical effort.
    And always, those slow backward steps, setting its feet precisely into its prints.
    Softly, under its breath, it chanted the next verse.
    “Wild pigs < beat, beat >
Root in pathway
Insects < beat, beat >
Buzz and bite
Birds fly < beat, beat >
Up from cover
Spread unease with dying light
Let them dread the coming night …”
    Khith paused for a moment, feeling the mud squish beneath its bare feet. When it donned clothing to walk the land of men, it would also put on sandals to shield its feet from their hard roadways, but Hthras in their homeland were tree people, climbers, and they never went shod.
    All around it the Hthras sensed the forest. Closing its eyes, it concentrated, and was finally rewarded by a blurry image of the searchers amidst the ruins. They had not found the vine-shielded entrance to Khith’s lair, or, if they had, they had not entered. Instead they were casting about, plainly searching for a trail.
    One of the jagowas snarled, its cry rising into a roar as it surged forward, dragging the handler.
    Time to disappear, Khith realized. They’ll be here in moments.
    Slowly, balancing on one foot, the Hthras thrust its right foot backward, full into the blade-brush that encroached onto the narrow trail. Smooth, sharp-pointed leaves raked along its hide, but its