Palta stayed next to me. "You're doing very well," she said.
"I'm awful. But I guess I could be worse. Anyway, I'm sorry about having to sail to Urbis. That never occurred to me."
She was silent for a while. And then she simply said, "It will be all right."
Eventually we reached a crossroads and went left, leaving the main road, which was called the Via Aureliana, and heading west, instead of north to Lugdunum. We kept going for another couple of hours until Arminius called a halt. I was deeply relieved to get off my horse—and I was sort of proud of how well I had done, even if I had slowed everyone down. We set up camp by the side of the road, and Palta and I lay down on the ground. I was exhausted, and my thighs were aching from the ride.
And beyond that, I was only now beginning to realize the horror of what had happened. How many people had been killed in Feslund's raid? How many more would have to die in Urbis?
Palta seemed to sense what I was feeling. "It will be all right," she repeated. "We're doing what we need to do."
And then she snuggled up against me. I got to sleep finally, but I didn't sleep well, and eventually I woke up enough to understand why. Palta was moaning softly, and her hand was digging into my arm so hard it almost hurt.
I turned over and shook her awake. She opened her eyes, and I saw terror in them. "Are you okay?" I whispered.
"Why did they shoot at us?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Why didn't they just let us go? We couldn't have harmed them."
"Who? Who are you talking about?"
She shook her head. "I can't...." And then she seemed to calm down a bit. "It was a nightmare," she explained. "About something that happened on Gaia. I'm sorry."
"What happened? Don't be sorry. Tell me." She had told me so little about Gaia, compared to what I had told her about my world.
But this time was different. This time, lying in a field in Gallia among the sleeping soldiers, she finally had something to say.
"I was so young," she began. "I don't know how old—I don't even know how old I am now. There was no one to tell me, after..."
"After what?"
She shook her head and began again. "On Gaia, the gants ruined everything. The world collapsed. I don't where they came from, who invented them, how many there were. But they made death so easy, so... clean. You couldn't protect yourself from them. So we all ended up in these tribes, these small communities, and we had as little contact with anyone else as possible. I was with my father and some other people—fifteen or twenty, I think."
"No mother?"
"My mother was dead. Papa never talked about her. I remember our tribe had a farm, so we had food to eat, and I felt safe. I didn't know any better. We also had a gant. We were very careful with that gant—it was like a sacred thing. No one told me what it was for, or anything about it; I just knew it was very important. Now I realize it was our only protection against outsiders who wanted to take what we had.
"And one day I saw everyone become worried. I didn't understand why. I asked Papa, and he didn't want to say, but finally I overheard other people talking. Bad people were coming, they said. And our gant had gone dead. Without the gant we were helpless, they said. The bad people were going to capture us, or kill us.
"Do you understand, Larry? The blue glow was gone. Like a fire that has burned out."
"What happened then?" I asked.
"I don't remember all that happened. Many meetings, much talk. And finally one night my father woke me and said, 'We must leave, child. Right now. The bad people are almost here.'
"He put a jacket on me and gave me the little doll that I loved and we hurried out of the farmhouse. I didn't hear or see anything. How did he know the bad people were coming? I think now the others had decided to stay and surrender to the bad people, and my father disagreed with this. So he wanted to save me. But I don't know—perhaps someone had turned against us. Perhaps the others had left, and we were the only ones left behind. It was all very confusing to me.
"We ran across the fields and into the woods. Dawn was coming. I heard shouts behind us. My father picked me up and carried me. He was a strong man. I felt safe in his arms. 'We must cross the river,' he said. 'They will not follow us to the other side.' I had never been to the river before. I don't think I knew what a river was.
"We made it to the river. I could not take my eyes off it—the water, endlessly flowing in the dawn. I thought it was beautiful. But there were still shouts behind us, and my father was looking for something on the bank. Finally he found it—a boat, hidden in the reeds. He put me in the boat and pushed off with an oar. He was sweating. We made it out to the middle of the river. 'Keep down, child,' he said. 'Whatever you do, keep down.'
"And those were the last words he spoke. Because then my father disappeared. Someone must have shot at him from the bank, but I didn't know that—I just knew that my father was there, and then he was gone. When you are that close to someone who is destroyed by the gant, you feel a sort of trembling in the air. And you know the white powder that comes afterwards? Some of it fell on me. I could feel my father's dust on my face."
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"Why did they have to do that, Larry?" Palta asked. "Why didn't they just let us go? We couldn't have hurt them. We just wanted to go away."
"I don't know."
"I think I know, although I didn't understand until much later. They didn't want my father. They wanted me. They wanted girls—girls who would grow up and become women."
I shivered. "What happened next?" I asked.
"I didn't know what to do. I didn't understand what had happened. Where was Papa? Maybe I could have used the oar, but the oar had disappeared, too. And the gant had made a hole in the side of the boat. Water was pouring in; the boat was sinking. Now it was just me, with the water rising up over me, and the bad people coming after me. And I ended up in the river. Perhaps I threw myself in. Perhaps I was hoping I'd drown—but I don't think I understood what it meant to drown. I went beneath the surface, and it was so cold and dark. It wasn't beautiful anymore; it was death, clutching at me, pulling me down into its depths."
She fell silent.
"But you didn't die," I said.
"I don't know why," she replied. "It seemed to go on forever, the darkness and the cold, and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think and I missed my Papa and I was afraid of the bad men. And then I don't know what happened, but I opened my eyes and I was lying in mud by the side of the river, and my clothes were ripped and wet, and the sun was shining down on me. I was still holding on to my little doll. I was alive, but I didn't want to be."
She fell silent again. I put my arm around her and held her close. "That's a good reason to be afraid of water," I said.
"But it's not good to be afraid without a reason," she murmured. "You have to be strong. The river saved my life, after all. The bad men didn't find me—maybe they thought I'd drowned, or maybe the river carried me too far away for them to bother chasing me. Instead, I was rescued by a fisherman who brought me to his home and cleaned me up and let me live with him. Pretty soon it became too dangerous for him to be on his own without a gant, and we left his home and joined a tribe in the city. It was better, then. It was never really all right until Affron came and took me away from Gaia, but it was better."
Palta closed her eyes, and after a while I could feel her fall asleep. I listened to her gentle breathing. I couldn't sleep, though. Dawn approached, when we'd have to be on the road again—towards a sea voyage, and more danger.
Much more danger.
Chapter 23
In a few hours we set out. Palta didn't say anything more about what she had told me in the night; we just rode our horses through a glorious Gallian day. I seemed to work my way through my soreness, to the point where I was actually enjoying the ride. Feslund was in great spirits. Arminius, on the other hand, was quiet and serious.
We rode all day, with a brief stop to eat and to feed and rest the horses. The people w
e passed on the road looked at us with puzzlement and maybe a little fear. A few of them recognized Feslund and bowed to him or knelt; he waved back at them and laughed.
At twilight we camped. The soldiers caught rabbits and roasted them over a fire, and we all sat around the fire afterwards eating the meat and drinking water from a stream. The soldiers spoke mostly Gallic, but occasionally lapsed into Latin that I could understand with a little difficulty. They were friendly and happy to be on a mission instead of hunting, although they were baffled by the mission's purpose. They were worried about having killed the chief minister. They had no idea who Palta and I were or why we were so important. And the gant terrified them. They knew what had happened to King Harald and his army, and that this must have been the kind of weapon the priests had used against them. And they found that troubling.
"I do not like it," a short, stocky soldier named Priscus said. "This weapon doesn't belong to us. It has been stolen from the gods."
Feslund was quick to stop that sort of thinking. "It hasn't been stolen from the gods—we have taken it by right from the priests. Do you think that only the priests speak for the gods?"
Priscus didn't seem able to answer that question. But he also didn't seem convinced. Probably he and the other soldiers had been taught that, yes, in fact, only the priests spoke for the gods.
I began to worry about how the soldiers would react when they were finally told what their mission was. I remembered that this was why Decius had rejected this very plan—he couldn't be sure his soldiers would go along with it. I had thought it would be easier to convince Gallian soldiers; perhaps I had been wrong.
After supper Arminius and Feslund took Palta and me aside and quizzed us about the plan. Or, rather, Arminius did the quizzing, and Feslund mostly listened. We went over everything—all that Queen Gretyx had asked me about and more. Some things Palta and I had answers for, like how to get into Urbis, and the locations of the important buildings; some things other people would have to figure out, like where to land and the route to take from there to Urbis. And others were simply unknown: How many soldiers guarded the armamentarium? How could we be sure they didn't have these magical weapons? How could we be sure no one else did?
Arminius seemed skeptical. "It is risk piled on top of risk," he said.
"But can we succeed?" Feslund demanded.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps? That isn't good enough. We must be certain!"
Arminius shrugged. "The only certainty is that many people will die. Including Gallians. And we will need many more men than the few we have with us now."
"I will send someone ahead to Massalia," Feslund said. "We will get men from the garrison, and tell the commander to have ships ready for us."
"That would be wise."
Feslund seemed annoyed at Arminius's lack of enthusiasm. "If you were me, wouldn't you do this?" he persisted. "Wouldn't you try to avenge King Harald and wrest control of the empire from the priests?"
"We took the first step when I buried my spear in the back of Lexulus," Arminius replied. "Now we have no choice but to continue. We are all doomed otherwise."
That was the most Feslund could get out of him.
There was one part of what I was proposing that Arminius didn't understand. "Why do we need to take over the temple of Via during the attack?" he asked. "What concern is that of ours?"
I couldn't tell him the truth, of course, which was that if we didn't secure the portal, the priests could use it to obtain more weapons from Gaia. But he wouldn't understand.
I did my best to explain. "Via is the way that the priests talk to the gods," I explained. "We need to make sure we control Via. Otherwise, there's no telling what the priests may be able to do."
"What if the gods are upset with us for taking over Via?" he asked.
"Why should they be upset?" Feslund interrupted. "Perhaps it is the will of the gods that we do this—that is why they have sent these two children to us. We must do it, my friend. As you said, we have no other choice."
"Then we will do it," Arminius said with a sigh. "And let us pray that the gods approve."
The next day we continued on to Massalia. Feslund was the only one in high spirits; everyone else seemed tense. Including me. This had all been my idea, and now that it was really happening, I was becoming increasingly worried about it. I had only been thinking about finding a way home—I hadn't been thinking about the other people who would be affected by what I wanted to do.
The way home was not going to be easy.
One of the soldiers was missing as we set out. "We have sent Escondo on ahead to Massalia," Arminius explained to the soldiers. "We need more soldiers. We need ships. We cannot waste any time."
"Can you tell us where we're going?" one of the soldiers asked.
Arminius shook his head. "Soon," was all he said.
"Are we going to Urbis?" another asked. "I'm told that Lexulus was taking the two children back to Urbis."
Arminius ignored the question, and he mounted his horse and set out.
We rode through the most beautiful landscape I could imagine—even more picturesque than along the Via Aureliana. And the weather was perfect—none of the oppressive heat that we had endured on that first journey. The farmers in the fields waved to us; the people in the small villages we passed through bowed to us. At night we lay down next to a campfire and gazed up at a clear sky smeared with stars. I learned the names of the soldiers and a little bit about their personalities—Priscus, quiet, devout, and competent; Sulliger, easygoing and happy just to be on a journey with his fellow soldiers; Vetorix, a thin young soldier with a scar on his cheek...
And, of course, Arminius, who somehow was our leader, even though Feslund was the prince, the one with the ultimate power. Feslund seemed to know that nothing should happen if Arminius didn't approve. He would be angry if he wanted to keep riding and Arminius said it was time to camp for the night; but he would always give in and do what Arminius suggested.
"I do not trust Feslund at all," Palta said to me one night. "If we succeed, it will be because of Arminius."
I didn't disagree.
And finally we smelled salt air and saw seagulls overhead. "Massalia is not far," Sulliger said to us. "I was born near here. It is the best, most exciting city in the world!"
We arrived at twilight, but the shops were still open and the narrow streets were crowded and noisy. We made our way through the city to a stone building overlooking a harbor filled with ships, where we all dismounted. "This is the garrison," a friendly soldier named Cymbian said to us. "I was stationed here once."
Arminius and Feslund went inside while the rest of us sprawled on the ground and waited. I noticed that Palta couldn't tear her eyes away from the harbor. It looked calm and pretty to me, but she was clearly terrified. I took her hand and squeezed it. "You'll be fine," I said.
She nodded silently.
In a few minutes Arminius and Feslund came out, followed by Escondo and a gray-haired soldier named Ploterus, who was evidently the commander of the garrison.
"We depart at first light," Feslund announced to us. "We have no time to waste. Come inside and eat, and then we will get ready."
We got to our feet and headed inside the building. As we did, stable boys came to take care of our horses. I had grown fond of Flinty, and as the boy led it away I realized with a pang that I would probably never see my horse again.
The garrison smelled of sweat and salt. The soldiers there greeted us and led us to the dining hall at the back of the building. Everyone seemed excited. I think our soldiers were happy to get reinforcements, and the soldiers from the garrison were happy to get the chance to fight, even if no one was sure where we were headed or who we were going to fight. As usual, everyone glanced curiously at Palta and me.
We were served a meal of cold ham, hard biscuits, and some sort of oatmeal. Then the soldiers set to work getting their gear ready and stowing it in wagons to be brought down to the two ships tha
t would be taking us across the great sea to Urbis. After that, everyone went to sleep on uncomfortable cots in the barracks—everyone except Palta, that is, who was given her own room because she was female. She didn't look happy to be separated from me, but she didn't object.
I had slept in a barracks in Carmody's world, after the battle where I had killed that soldier from New Portugal. I felt tired and scared now, as I had then. Back then, at least, the battle had been over and our side had won. Here, the battle was approaching, and it was not at all clear that our side would win.
The soldiers grunted and snored while I tossed and turned, unable to settle down. My mind buzzed with questions. How long would we be at sea? Would Palta be okay? Where would we land, and how would we get from there to Urbis? If—when—we got into the temple, how exactly would I get back home? Would Gratius still be in Urbis? He would help me—wouldn't he?
And what about Palta? Would she come with me back to my world? And if not, where would she go, what would she do?
And how could I leave her behind?
It was a long night.
We arose before dawn and had a final meal before leaving. I sat next to Palta, who didn't touch her food. "Did you sleep?" I asked her.
She shook her head.
"I didn't either."
"I suppose there'll be time to sleep on the ship," she said.
"Lots of time to do nothing."
We walked outside. The weather was chilly, and the winds were calm. I wondered if the soldiers had packed any clothes for us; if it got any colder, I'd need a jacket or a cape. I didn't see Arminius, Feslund, or Escondo. Priscus got us organized and marched us down to the harbor. The soldiers were quiet, still waking up. The city was already coming to life, and people stopped what they were doing to watch us go by on the cobblestone streets.
TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2) Page 19
