The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2)

by Tony Roberts

  “Dark Blade has certain abilities,” Theruddas said. “May I introduce Captain Sherea? The Captain is one of our longest serving officers; she joined Jerethal’s army almost at the beginning. She will command the group here on our mission.”

  Faer gave her a careful appraisal, the type one woman gives another. She saw Sherea doing the same to her, and from the look on her face she was less than impressed. “Captain,” Faer said neutrally.

  “Blade,” Sherea responded. “An unusual woman. You don’t look able to handle a sword. You’re from Kaltinar? How long were you there?”

  “Two years.”

  Sherea snorted and looked down the table. The other seven were clearly soldiers; six men and another woman. They all had hard looks to them that warriors carried. The other woman had close-cropped fair hair. A few of the men carried scars. Experienced people. “Two years,” the captain echoed. “Hardly long enough to learn how to hold a sword properly.”

  Faer smiled. “Perhaps the Captain would like to demonstrate her superiority tomorrow morning before we leave?”

  Sherea looked at her dismissively before turning to Theruddas. “Are we an escort or childminders?”

  The sage smiled thinly. “She dealt with a squad of royal guards and Capel easily enough. As I said, she had abilities. A useful addition to our group.”

  Sherea looked back at Faer. “I hope you’re not going to be dressed like that?”

  “Uncomfortable, Captain?” Faer smiled again, trying to ignore the shrieks of outrage from within and the begging to take revenge. “Or jealous?”

  “Neither – I believe in dressing appropriately for all occasions. I have to say that’s a nice dress you’re nearly wearing, but it’s hardly one to wear for dinner. Still, you’re young and have a lot to learn. And you’ll have plenty of time to grow into it properly.” Sherea looked away and popped a small piece of fruit into her mouth.

  Faer fought to keep down a wave of hot anger that threatened to engulf her. Let me show that bitch! her inner self screamed into her mind. Faer had to calm her down, studiously looking away from the captain. She concentrated instead on the man next to her who was trying not to make it obvious he was eyeing her breasts too much. She smiled at him and he haltingly smiled back, then caught Sherea scowling at him and his face slipped back into a mask of neutrality.

  Faer held his gaze and deliberately dropped her eyes down to her cleavage and back up again, smirking. The man cleared his throat and reached for his goblet of wine, his hand shaking slightly. “You’ve been in the Captain’s unit for some time?” she asked him.

  He almost choked on his drink at the sultry voice she used. Faer relaxed slightly; she had mollified her other self slightly. The giggle that came to her was more preferable to the shrieking. “Uh, yes, uh, ma’am?”

  “Call me Blade,” she purred, staring at him intently, her eyes holding him, her chin resting on her fist. She leaned forward slightly, revealing more of herself. She sensed the other men leaning forward at that point.

  “Can we please concentrate on our meal?” Sherea asked sharply.

  Theruddas cleared his throat. He leaned towards Faer. “Can you please prevent yourself from trying to use your dark elf seduction methods? I’m aware of the reputation that dark elf women possess.”

  “I’m only half elf,” Faer reminded him. “I’m sure I’m harmless.”

  “The men here need to keep their minds on the mission, not on you.”

  “Only the men?” Faer smiled wickedly. “Women, too, are vulnerable, which you should know if you are aware of the reputation of dark elves.”

  The sage glanced across at Sherea who was not looking amused. The captain fixed Faer with a sharp look. “I would rather you concentrated on your mission rather than acting in a manner more suited to a brothel.”

  “I think we’re going to get on famously, Captain,” Faer responded. She wondered whether she would be accepted as a warrior by the others, though. Clearly they had little faith in her fighting abilities. She sensed though that in the next week or so she would have the opportunity to show them.

  FIVE

  Fortunately there were no incidents on the first five days after they rode out from the city. The weather was cold but clear, and a dusting of snow lay on the ground, the crystals glittering from the low sun that climbed painfully over the peaks of the mountains to the north. The road was one of the best in the kingdom in this part of Gorradan and they made good time eastwards. They never broke into a trot, but contented themselves with riding easy.

  One of the soldiers rode ahead acting as scout. This was rotated twice a day. Next came Captain Sherea and her personal aide, then Faer, Therrudas and two more soldiers, then came two more soldiers and lastly one, acting as rearguard. Faer tried to engage the others in conversation but Sherea cut her short, ordering silence while they rode. Her reasoning, as she explained later at camp, was so they couldn’t be surprised. Faer looked dubious but the captain said that dissident groups loyal to the old king were still at large and could surprise groups if they were not wary, or were making noise.

  There were two fires each night at camp. One for the majority of the soldiers and the other for Sherea, Therrudas, Faer and one other. The other tended to be Sherea’s personal aide, who was the other woman in the group. Faer learned she was called Via, and was something akin to an armed retainer of Sherea’s. Via fetched and carried for the captain, and saw to her comfort, dress and meals. Via’s hand was never far from the hilt of her sword, however, and Faer caught her more than once glaring in her direction at night before they all went to sleep.

  Faer wrapped herself in her blanket, her sword in her hand. She slept as close as she could to the fire, her back to the flames. Her eyes gazed out into the night, looking into her past. There were always two men on guard at night, so nobody or nothing ought to surprise them, but she was always alert, just in case. She slept as she always had in Selanic, lightly, ready to wake at the slightest discordant sound. Many the time she had imagined someone creeping up to her house ready to burn them to the ground or to steal something, or to merely cause mischief, but that had never happened. The villagers had contented themselves in keeping their distance from the strange, dark skinned girl with the pointed ears and slanted eyes.

  It was the fifth evening that finally someone spoke to her with something meaningful. Theruddas was sitting after the evening meal, looking at her closely. His white hair went well with the frosty surroundings. “Blade, it is wise to know more about your task ahead of you.”

  “About time – I thought you were going to throw me into that forest without so much as a good luck!”

  Captain Sherea seemed about to say something, then she decided it wasn’t worth the effort and concentrated instead on Via cleaning her sword, watching the woman intently. Via never seemed to smile or take any pleasure in her duties; she merely followed her orders and hardly spoke to anyone else.

  Theruddas folded his hands over his ample girth and frowned in disapproval at Faer’s words. “What do you think we are? The Losingar is no easy place for anyone to travel in, let alone a youth like you. You have no idea of its history, or why people are afraid to venture into it.”

  “So why don’t you tell me then instead of being so secretive?”

  “We are now well enough away from the capital to be able to tell you.” Theruddas sounded irritated. “Before now there was the possibility of you refusing the mission and fleeing into the streets of Gorradan.”

  “I could just as easily back out now,” Faer said, her knees up to her chin, her arms wrapped round her legs.

  “Tomorrow we reach the river – and the bridge – and once across you are on your own. This is the last opportunity I have of telling you before then. We have no idea of course where the hideout of the rebels is, and you can be certain that the track that leads into the forest from the bridge will be watched. Therefore I propose we march to the bridge and camp there. When night falls you will slip across do
wnstream from the crossing. Your night vision should be an asset.”

  Faer glanced at Sherea. The captain was saying nothing. “So when I cross what will you be doing? Swapping ribald stories of your past heroics?”

  Theruddas drew in a deep breath. “Really – is it necessary to speak with such disrespect?”

  “It is when your plan is as weak and transparent as that. Why don’t you create a diversion? Cross over the bridge and make a lot of noise?”

  Captain Sherea snorted with amusement. “None of us dare cross over, especially at night! Tales of this place are bad enough for daylight. I’d have a mutiny if I ordered my men across.”

  “Oh, but its fine letting me go over alone at night? Maybe I was being generous of you in that case. Why not swap ribald stories of your past cowardice in that case?”

  Sherea’s face turned ugly. She took hold of her hilt and gathered her legs beneath her. Faer did likewise. Theruddas shouted for calm and Via came to stand alongside the furious Sherea. Behind Faer the other soldiers gathered, their swords ready. Faer stood on her own, facing Sherea, about ten paces away. Theruddas waved his hands at the two women. “Please! Enough! We’re supposed to be on the same side!”

  “Touchy, aren’t we?” Faer said, her eyes switching from the captain to Via. She was warier of the retainer who looked ready to attack. “Stung your pride?”

  “Shut up, half-breed,” Sherea snapped. “You’ve got a big mouth. I’d really be pleased if something in the Losingar ate you – but it’d probably die of poisoning.”

  Half-breed. The insult brought Faer’s past back to her. Via stepped forward. “Let me teach this bitch a lesson, Captain.”

  “I’m so tempted,” Sherea said, “but even you, dear Via, may find this little bug too nasty for you. I’m told she can use magic. Dark elf blood. You know of their reputation, Via, so it is best to leave her alone. Let the creatures of the forest deal with her.” Sherea slammed her sword away and sat back down.

  Via curled a lip and followed suit. The other soldiers relaxed and sat back down. Theruddas breathed out in relief. “Do you really have to antagonise everyone? Or is it something you simply cannot help?”

  Faer sat down. She never wanted to be taken advantage of ever again as she had been before she had discovered her powers, and had been trained to use her sword. “I thought if you attracted the attention of their spies, then I may stand a better chance of getting across unobserved.”

  “Our fires will be enough,” Theruddas said. “Now, listen. The forest is home to many creatures, some of which are intelligent and capable of using magic. Great winged beasts nest in the tallest trees, and there are stories of old abandoned buildings and villages deep within it, which are home to ghostly beings and perhaps other undead. There are stories of some people surviving within – maybe those mad or reclusive, or even both.”

  “Do you have any clue where the king’s heir is being held? Even a vague direction would help.”

  Theruddas shrugged helplessly. “No – you will have to find out all that yourself. You are literally on your own across the river. What I can tell you is that there are trackways through it, and you can bet that the people who hold the heir use them. One of them will lead you to their lair. Stray off the tracks and you may fall victim to one of the other denizens.”

  Faer rolled her eyes. Theruddas’ information was being – as she’d heard one of the senior students at Blade Mountain once say – as useful as tits on a fish. “You said some of the creatures could use similar abilities as mine?”

  “Indeed. They lay deep in the forest and prefer not to come into contact with the likes of us. We will remain here for ten days. If after that time you have not reappeared, it will be assumed you have failed and we will return to Gorradan.”

  Faer grunted and prepared her bed. There was not much else to say.

  The following morning they set off again, and this time the sky was filled with low clouds. It was dull, cold and windy. Snow fell, coating the ground. Faer was not looking forward to her immersion in the river. How was she to get over without freezing to death? More and more she was not looking forward to the crossing. Why swim anyway? Why not just boldly walk over the bridge? At night – human eyes would not be able to see. She thought more and more on her alternative to what Theruddas had told her, and more and more she liked her own plan rather than that of the florid-faced sage.

  They reached the bridge just after midday, although it was a guess as to precisely what time it was, since the sun was obscured and snow was falling quite thickly. They gathered at the approach to the wooden crossing and peered through the snow to the dark mass of trees on the other side.

  Faer cloaked herself as she dismounted and unenthusiastically walked to the edge of the river. It flowed whitely beneath her, perhaps twenty paces below the edge of the land. It was flowing in a ravine, gouged out of the soft, red earth. The ravine ran as far as she could see in either direction, and was perhaps sixty paces or more wide.

  The bridge was a stout construction. Wooden beams thicker than her torso had been plunged at an angle into the earth on either side of the ravine to an unknown depth and these supported the single span which had been created out of two immensely thick beams that had been laid across the gap. Planks had been nailed and then tied to the two beams and fitted neatly all the way across, then on top of these long planks nailed lengthways. Along each edge a wooden barrier had been made, carved into a smooth round-topped rail supported on a huge number of struts, all carved and jointed and then tied to the main structure.

  Snow was now lying thickly on the bridge, but Faer could see the cross-section of how it was made looking side-on from where she was stood. There were no footprints on the snow. She frowned. Her plan was unravelling. The others were erecting windbreaks, hammering the pointed end of the wooden supports into the hard, unyielding ground. They were supporting animal skins that blocked some of the falling snow.

  The fallen snow was scraped away and Faer walked slowly back to the forming camp. If the others were to wait here for ten days, then they’d need semi-permanent structures rather than the transient bedding they had used the past five. She stood with her back to the wind, keeping the snow out of her face, watching the soldiers struggle in putting the tents up.

  Theruddas remained close to the horses, using them as shelter, until the first tent, the small one for him, was erected. He then vanished quickly into it. Captain Sherea and Via shared another, and another smaller one was soon raised for her. One of the soldiers pointed to her and then the tent, a triangular construction about five paces high and three across. She gratefully nodded and bent low to push through the loose flap and into the relative calm of the interior.

  Her equipment had been thrown carelessly into it and she dragged the three bags to different parts of the tent. She squatted and opened each, examining what her possessions were. Nothing seemed missing which was a relief. The question was what was she to take with her into the forest? She began to assemble a pack and essential items. Blanket, yes. Pan, water skin, rope, small hatchet. She checked her belt. It was one she had been given in Kaltinar. There were pouches, bags and loops hanging from it. The loops would be used to affix various objects should the need arise.

  She was re-tying her bags when a soldier leaned his head through the opening. “Excuse me ma’am but the Captain requests your presence in her tent.”

  “Alright, thank you,” Faer said over her shoulder. She thought his eyes lingered a little on her rear end as she bent over to finish off sealing her bags, then she stood and brushed her long blue trousers down. She came out into the brighter world of falling snow and followed the soldier across to the bigger tent. As she went she noticed the soldiers had erected two large ones, clearly for their use. The horses were all tethered miserably in a group, chewing on the tough, yellowed grass that had been exposed by the scraping aside of the fallen snow.

  The soldier thrust aside the tent flap and she ducked and stepped inside
. Captain Sherea sat on a low stool, her face expressionless. Via was kneeling by her side, again facing the entrance. To one side stood Theruddas, clearly uncomfortable. He wanted a chair and did not wish to kneel, or to sit on a hard, cold surface. There may be furs and blankets lying on the ground but his aching bones did not like the hard consistency of the surface.

  Faer stood; she had no choice. The tent was big enough for six, but Sherea being captain had the luxury given to that of officers. Faer noted there was just the one bed towards the back. Clearly Via was more than just a personal valet and retainer.

  “Don’t get too comfortable in your tent,” Sherea said. “You’ll be off as soon as darkness falls. The sooner you’re off the better.”

  “What of my horse, saddle and tack?”

  “It will be looked after. If you don’t return I shall take possession of all. Now, the plan is for you to cross the river downstream. Select your spot covertly; I’m sure we’re being observed from the other bank.”

  Faer shook her head. “In this temperature? I don’t fancy a bath thank you. I’m going to walk across the bridge.”

  Sherea pursed her lips; her nostrils flared. “I am not in the mood to get into an argument now, of all times! Sage, you tell her.”

  Theruddas waved a hand in the air. “All eyes will be fixed on the bridge; your night vision is a huge advantage and you can see where others cannot. However, beware – many of the creatures that live in Losingar Forest also utilise night vision.”

  “Now you tell me!”

  Theruddas shrugged. “Be glad I’m telling you at all.”

  Faer glared at the sage. “What else have you neglected to tell me? The trees move?”

  “Perhaps – who knows? The bridge is always under observation so crossing it is not an option.”

  “So what? You’re not going to cross over – and I absolutely refuse to kill myself of hypothermia. Now, the only thing that’s putting my plan in jeopardy is that damned snow; I am going to walk across to the far side and then back again. In daylight.”