“Well, Princess? Are you ready to get back on your horse?” Mako asked a few minutes later.
She curled her lip. “I will never be ready to get on a horse! But you may as well bring it over.” She drained her tea and set the cup down, picking up a chunk of cheese to eat later.
“Do not worry, Princess. We have rations with us if you get hungry along the way. You have a few moments more… they are just saddling up now.”
A short time later, Scylla was back on the horse and wishing she were anywhere but in the saddle. But there was no other option if she wanted to leave Zara’s domain.
Work on the shacks had already resumed. With the increase in manpower, the job could be finished in a few days.
As they left the village behind, with Scylla again clinging awkwardly to the saddle, Mako shook his head in despair. “Princess… can you not sit tall in the saddle and just go with the motion? To ride so poorly just makes that animal’s job more difficult!”
Scylla felt like slapping him—if only she hadn’t needed both hands to keep herself on board the horse! Still, he had a point.
“I am sorry… I cannot. Perhaps I shall practice riding each day. I cannot help but think if the wolves of Gryor return and we are thrown into battle, I may need to ride a horse to escape,” she said from between gritted teeth.
“I hope it will not come to that.” Mako’s face was grim. “But if you could improve your riding, it would be easier to travel throughout the kingdom. Jay’s carriage is only suitable for the better roads. Did you feel your pilgrimage today was satisfactory?”
“I would not have missed it,” said Scylla. She turned an assessing glance on Coltic. He met her eyes and gave her a barely perceptible nod. Whatever had passed through him at the Goddess’s spring had left him with less tension, and the unfamiliar lines on his face were smoother.
He spoke up with a half-grin. “On another subject entirely… Can you be sure that our lady Zara will not frighten off the children you find for her? I would run away!”
Mako gave a helpless shrug. “I cannot say for sure. I believe she appears more difficult than she is, and as she sees progress in her village, she may soften. Meanwhile, I am looking for a caretaker who can give the children confidence…”
“… and protection!” Scylla interjected.
“Brit says she was better when the village was more alive. And kinder,” Mako said. “Remember, our object is to see the Goddess’s spring tended as it should be—our realm needs all the help we can attract.”
Silence fell among them as the horses jogged down the track, accompanied only by the thud of hooves, nostrils snorting and bits jingling. Scylla thought of the troubles in neighboring Gryor and how that malignancy had already spilled over into the peaceful backwater of Rellant. She pushed away the memory of the cold, hard eyes of Woliff and his men. Whatever it took to keep the kingdom safe, she and the War Council would attempt.
“Thank the Goddess for Keet the trellet and the forest cat!” she said lightly. And for our own sorcerer, she said to herself silently as the soldiers were well within earshot. I wonder if Coltic is a sorcerer or actually a wizard. She decided she would ask him later.
“Do you think the trellets we saw this morning are here to help or just to cause mischief?” Mako said.
“To help, of course! They said they had tasks to perform.”
“Tasks… what tasks?” Mako countered. He acquired a pained expression, as if trellets were just too much trouble to contemplate. Rebuilding houses, drilling troops, and providing supplies came much more easily to him. As did riding. All the horses were going faster now, getting into a ground-covering stride.
“They were with the little girl in the tree. We can only wait and see… How long before we get back to Jay? I want off this horse!” Smooth gaits or not, the horse was now racing down the narrow hilly track. Scylla could easily have been thrown off if she had not clamped her legs tightly to the horse’s sides and her hands to the saddle front. “Good Goddess! Can we not slow down?” Her voice rose to a near scream. To her ears, it sounded like one of her tantrums when Maris had been particularly annoying.
Mako ordered, “Company, walk! My apologies, Princess!” The troop slowed abruptly. Scylla lost her balance and pitched forward over the horse’s neck. Coltic, riding beside her, reached out quickly and hauled her back into the saddle.
“We are almost there, Princess,” he said soothingly. “Have you regained your balance? Chancellor, I will take on the challenge… that is, the task of teaching the queen to ride. She is right… her inability to ride could end up as a life or death situation!”
“As it is this moment!” Scylla gasped. “Let me off this horse!”
“We are almost there, Princess. Look ahead—there is Jay’s carriage in the distance!”
“Curses!” she said violently. “I have never seen a more welcome sight!”
But when they rode up, there was only the abandoned carriage standing beside the lonely road leading south. The two soldiers, their horses, and Jay and the pony were not there.
It was mid-morning and River skipped her way through the village to the market square. She had eaten the rest of last night’s dinner and could almost believe another basket awaited her tonight. Almost! Queen Scylla had implied there would be. River had a snug feeling about that. But if there were no dinner tonight, she would not go hungry tomorrow. She had the small coin she had recently found, plus the other coins in her stash under the flat rock. Even if she found nothing to scrounge, she could buy food in the market.
“Hey, child!” A voice attracted her attention as she zigzagged between the stalls. She glanced over her shoulder but kept moving. “Child! Old Nick is looking for you… the old fella, old Nick! He probably wants his amulet back!”
It was the market vendor with the curly brown hair—he who sold odds and ends, books, and other second-hand items. River ignored him and kept running. She didn’t believe him. The old man had shown no signs of wanting Theoria’s amulet back. But she wasn’t sure where to find him, if not at the market. Where did he live? She scurried through the streets, down to the docks and back again.
Finally, she gave up and left the village through the garden commons and from there to the road. There she saw the bent, thin figure shuffling along near the castle wall.
“Nick! Nick!” she called.
“Hey, water witch!” he called back, puffing. His cheeks and nose were red, his eyes watering. “They said you live out here… Where do you live, child?”
She brushed away the question as she came closer to him. “Out there,” she said, with a quick gesture. He stopped to rest, leaning on a splintered stick almost as tall as he. “Are you looking for me?” She was wary enough to keep out of reach.
“I am, I am!” he said impatiently.
She opened her hand. “Well, see! These are what I found with the willow stick.” Nick peered at her palm, as she held out the small coin, the thin gold ring, and the twisted silver earring. “And another bigger gold coin before that, but I hid it.”
“Very wise!” he said. “Do not tell anyone! Have you seen the trellets?”
“Oh, yes, just this morning.”
“Well…” he said. “Well, now, child… I hear tell Queen Scylla is looking for someone to tend the Goddess’s spring. I don’t know whether to warn you or to send you on to the queen! But you being a water witch, and having trellets…!”
“My ma told me stories about the Goddess,” said River. “From before she came here. Tending the spring.”
“Ah, so you know all about it!” The old man nodded. “Well, there you are, child… That’s the best I can do, I’ve warned you! It may be a good thing.”
River tried to puzzle out what he was saying. What might be a good thing? “Do you want your amulet back?” she hazarded a guess, remembering what the brown-haired vendor had said.
He shook his head violently. “No, no! It is yours. You take care of Theoria’s amulet, child! And i
t will look after you.” He raised his free hand in a dismissive wave, gave a shake of his head, and stumped off back toward the village.
Something was reminding River… her mother’s voice from out of the past. If someone helps us out, we need to thank them, darling! Thank him?… How do I thank him? River asked herself, watching Nick shuffling away. He had given her the amulet and told her how to witch for water. Perhaps he hadn’t told her about witching for treasure… the trellets had done that. Still… she fingered the small treasures in her hand reflectively.
“Nick! Nick!” she called out, running after him. She quickly shoved the thin gold ring into his hand and then darted out of reach and ran away without looking back. She could take another forked branch and maybe find another coin or two! Where were the trellets?
Mako, Coltic, the queen and her remaining Guard of six drew their horses to a halt near Jay’s carriage. It looked completely out of place beside the rough track from Zara’s village.
The soldiers stood in their stirrups, casting about for any sign of Jay or the two guards who had stayed behind.
“Does anyone see anything?” Mako demanded. He wheeled his horse about, searching in all directions. “Good Goddess! What now?”
“Which way did you send them to water the horses?” Coltic asked.
“That way. Brit said there was a stream when I visited the village before. I did not see it myself, but the soldiers I had left behind watered their horses at it.” He sent four of the soldiers on a circle to scout for signs.
“Here are their tracks,” came a sudden shout, as they pointed at a section of trampled grass ahead of them. “It seems they have all gone in this direction!”
“Try calling them!” Mako ordered, and they raised their voices in a loud hail. Then they waited in silence for a response.
“Where are they?” Mako muttered uneasily. “We were at the village longer than I planned. They ought to have been waiting here, ready to move out!”
Scylla sat her now-still horse and scanned her surroundings. The day was no different from what it had been all morning. The sky was a medium blue, with a few puffy white clouds floating in the east. Far overhead, she could see three great white swans winging their way northward. Often in the past, she had longed to fly along with them. Now she wished the swans would glide down to find Jay and the missing soldiers.
The breeze was light and warm, and the sun glared down from high above the swans. The hill pastures wrapped around outcroppings of rock and trees. The stream Brit had indicated was not in sight.
“Soldiers! Ride a little way after those tracks and see what you can see. Don’t go over the crest of that hill! The rest of you stay here.”
They watched the four soldiers ride cautiously forward, tension apparent even from a distance. At the crest, they stopped, scanning the distance beyond.
“We see nothing! Nothing but an ancient tree over there by the hill,” their voices floated back. “Should we go on?”
“Come back!” Mako thundered. “I hear hoofbeats,” he added with sudden relief, looking up the track they had just come down.
But the two horsemen that came into sight were not the soldiers they were expecting.
“It is Sergeant Brit and… his father, I believe,” Mako said with a hard edge of disappointment.
The sergeant approached along with the other rider, an older version of him, who rode stiffly as if he had not been on a horse for a long time. They pulled up. Brit stared at Mako.
“Chancellor! Are you missing some men?”
“I am.”
“My pa will find them. Call your soldiers back down here!”
“I have already. What has transpired?”
“Nothing we can not change… I expect,” Brit’s pa said calmly. He dismounted the horse awkwardly. “I suggest you stay here.”
“Stay here. You—pull up your horses!” Brit said to the four riders who had returned from the foray.
The older man ambled away without urgency toward the pasture.
“I would appreciate an explanation, Sergeant,” Mako snapped.
The young man gave a helpless shrug. “These are strange hills, Chancellor. Sometimes…” He stopped.
“Sometimes…” Mako echoed bitterly. “Why do I not want to hear any more?”
“Sometimes the veil is thin.” Coltic broke the silence. He dismounted from his lanky bay, handed his and Scylla’s reins to Mako, and went after Brit’s pa with a long, fluid stride. It seemed to take a long time for the two men to trace the trail across the turf and disappear over the crest.
There was silence except for the rustle of the grasses and the eerie wind whistling through the branches of nearby trees. Scylla found she was barely breathing, just sitting on the hard saddle waiting. What veil did Coltic mean?
Mako’s jawline was rigid, his mouth clamped shut. One rider was silent and still. Others muttered curses as their horses sidled awkwardly, reacting to the tension.
“There they are!” Scylla blurted a few minutes later. At the crest Brit’s pa appeared. Behind him came Jay and the pony, with the two missing soldiers and their horses following behind. Coltic brought up the rear.
“They were not there before,” one of the four who had ridden to the crest said belligerently. “There was nothing at all beyond there but a huge pasture and that one old tree. Even the stream you sent them to was not there.”
Mako hushed him with an abrupt gesture.
Brit’s pa walked up and said, “Here they are… I wish you all a good journey back home.” He gave Mako a pleasant nod and hauled himself onto the horse Brit held for him. The two horses wheeled away, trotting up the track toward the village.
“Good Goddess, Captain!” The words exploded from Mako. “What was all that about?” The others all stared askance at Jay and the two soldiers as if they had returned from the dead. No one spoke for a moment or two. Coltic ignored him. Then Mako said more quietly, “Soldiers—where were you?”
Their eyes shifted away. One spoke after a few seconds. “Chancellor. I have no explanation for what just happened…”
“What happened?”
“I have no explanation…” the soldier repeated. He and his companion exchanged doubtful scowls. Their sidelong glances slid toward Jay and then on to Coltic, who was taking back his own horse and Scylla’s lead line without fuss.
Mako tried again. “Jay. Where did you all go?”
Jay stared off into the middle distance for a long moment. Then he said, “We are back now… can we not just hitch up and go home?”
“Hitch up, Jay!” Mako told him, giving up. He glanced at Scylla and Coltic, his seething glare promising to get to the bottom of it later.
“Good Goddess,” Scylla muttered to Coltic. “Is it safe for me to get off or should I kick this horse and run screaming for home?”
Coltic gave her one of his old impish grins. He reached up and helped her off her horse, handing her the sword stick. “Do not do that until your riding and balance improve, Princess. I believe it is safe. You can discuss it with Jay later.”
Perhaps, Scylla said to herself. Or perhaps I do not wish to discuss it later!
8
Woliff, High Priest and Protector of Gryor’s court—and self-proclaimed mage—reclined in the captain’s chair inside his boat’s low cabin. Above, the sails snapped and billowed, and the wind roared through the web of ropes. Alongside, water rumbled hollowly against the creaking hull and the gray rolling waves washed endlessly by.
Woliff had said little during the time the men poled the boat through Rellant’s treacherous delta, not even when a brown-striped snake with a head as big as a man’s fist crawled aboard and was beheaded by the horrified crew. Eventually the boat had reached open water and struggled with light, gusty winds to make headway back towards Gryor throughout the night. At dawn the winds died, and the boat wallowed uselessly. Finally, strong winds came up from the west and the boat, with its sparse crew, picked up speed toward home. The tr
ailing clouds of biting insects finally disappeared.
“If this keeps up, High Priest, we can make it back to the City tomorrow… possibly late afternoon,” Mangus spoke up in his light voice as he ducked in through the open door. “Or so they say.”
Woliff grunted.
“We are fortunate that two of the men know how to work the boat,” Mangus added. “I for one do not!” He dropped onto a plank bench running along the side of the cabin.
“How is it you also did not know that tiresome swamp kingdom possessed such a powerful sorcerer?” Woliff’s harsh words dropped like stones between them.
Mangus flinched. “The information we had from their priests did not suggest any such personage… nothing!”
“So you have said!”
Mangus stared at the wide, dirty floorboards at his feet. His darting eyes and pursed mouth suggested he was thinking furiously.
“I must point out that some fifteen…”
“Sixteen,” Woliff interjected.
“…sixteen of Gryor’s elite soldiers vanished almost without trace in that sorry backwater. How did that happen? How were they overpowered unless it was by sorcery? The sorcery you yourself could feel!”
“With only one charred corpse visible on that small island,” Woliff agreed, ignoring the latter statement. “They however were not our elite soldiers… they were mercenaries procured for me by a certain party who will face questions when I return. Two of the others on board are also mercenaries… while two answer directly to me!”
“Unfortunately, we were outnumbered too greatly at the court feast,” said Mangus. “The soldiers could do nothing. They may as well have been chained to the wall behind them.” He looked up, startled, as a laugh rumbled unexpectedly from his companion. Woliff’s face wore a sardonic grin.
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