The Carpet People

It was carved out of a snarg’s thighbone and as good as a sword if it had to be. He thrust it into his belt, and accepted a bowl of soup from his wife.
    Night wore on, and the guards nodded. Outside the bright ring, deeper shadows padded among the hairs . . . and it seemed as though, around the ring of light, a darker ring had grown.
    They attacked to the south of the ring. There was a howl. Then a cart rocked. Its guard leapt for his life. It was Gurth, Glurk’s eldest son.
    ‘All arm! All arm! Hold the ring!’ cried Glurk, and leapt across the fire with a spear in either hand. One he hurled as he ran, and he heard it hit.
    These were not like the snargs he knew, came a cold thought out of his mind. They were daring to attack, and they carried men on their backs, or things like men at least, with green eyes and long teeth. For a moment Glurk hesitated, and an arrow grazed his arm.
    Horses screamed and pulled the picket stakes out of the ground, stampeding through the running people.
    Glurk saw another cart go over, and then above him loomed a snarg with a shining collar. There was a roar, and a crash, and . . . darkness spread along his arm, and drifted across his mind like nightfall.
    *
    The fires made a beacon for the three as they led their mounts down from the hidden path.
    ‘We should head into the Empire,’ said Pismire. ‘Things won’t be any—’
    He stopped. Bane was drawing his sword. He dismounted quietly, and inched forward. With his free hand he motioned Pismire to go on talking.
    ‘And of course Ware is so nice at this time of year,’ said Pismire hurriedly, ‘and there are many interesting byways and historic—’
    ‘Have you known Bane long?’ said Snibril, watching the stranger walk warily ahead.
    ‘He’s an old friend.’
    ‘But who is —’
    Bane took one step forward, then whirled round and brought his sword whistling down into the shadows at his side. There was a grunt, and a body fell silently across the path, a crude black sword dropping from its hands.
    Snibril gasped, and drew back. It wore armour of black leather, sewn with bone rings. At first sight the figure was manlike but when Snibril went closer he saw the hairy pelt and paws, and the long animal face.
    ‘Mouls,’ said Bane. ‘I can smell ’em!’
    ‘We must make haste!’ said Pismire. ‘They never move alone!’
    ‘But it’s like a human!’ said Snibril. ‘I thought there were only monsters and animals in the Unswept Regions.’
    ‘Or a cross between the two,’ said Bane.
    The distant fires were blotted out for an instant, and a snarg cried.
    Before it had died away Snibril was in Roland’s saddle and away, the others in close pursuit. There was shouting up ahead, and black shapes were moving across the light. As they entered the clearing and the broken ring of carts Snibril felt the horse bunch itself together for the leap.
    He clung on tightly as they cleared a cart’s roof with some inches to spare and landed, lightly, inside the ring. His arrival was hardly noticed in the battle that flowed around him.
    In one place the fallen carts were on fire, and that stopped the creatures. But some had broken through, and each was roaring at the people that slashed at it.
    Glurk lay still beneath one huge paw of a snarg, the biggest Snibril had ever seen. The great burning eyes moved, and saw Snibril. He wanted to run, but the horse did not budge. The rider on the snarg’s back had also seen him. It grinned unpleasantly.
    Snibril slipped from the horse’s back and picked up Glurk’s spear. It was heavy – Glurk went in for spears that other people could barely lift, let alonethrow. He held it cautiously, keeping the point aimed directly at the snarg.
    The snarg and its rider turned to follow him as he moved around. He could see the huge creature tensing itself to spring.
    And he could see Roland. He’d sidled in a half circle, and now the snarg and its rider were behind the horse. Roland’s tail twitched.
    And he kicked. Both hooves struck together.
    The rider sailed past Snibril’s shoulder. He was dead already. No one could look like that and still be alive.
    The snarg growled in astonishment, glared at Snibril, and leapt.
    You should never have to chase prey, Pismire had always said. With proper observation and care, you should be waiting for them.
    Snibril didn’t even think. He left the butt end of the spear wedged in the ground, and held on tightly. The snarg realized that it had done