My head snapped back at the name as though I had just been slapped. Desh! That filthy rat-bastard! I fought to control my breathing as the fallen man began to tremble at the look on my face.
Sabina shook my arm. “Hadrack? What’s going on? Who are these people?”
“Nothing but pond scum,” I said tightly. I lifted my sword to the man’s throat. “What is your name?”
“Bagen,” came back the shaky reply.
“Well, Bagen,” I growled, dropping to my knees so that we were almost eye level. “You are going to do something for me. Do you understand?” Bagen nodded eagerly, staring at me with bulging eyes that were beginning to shine with hope. “You are going to go back to that foul place known as Gandertown, and you are going to give Hervi Desh a message. Do I make myself clear?”
Bagen swallowed loudly. “Very clear.”
“Good,” I said as I stood. “Tell the bastard that the Wolf is coming for him.”
Bagen blinked up at me in confusion. “That’s all?”
“That’s all,” I grunted. I turned and threw the longsword in my hands over the hedges, then bent and picked up Malo’s short sword. I sheathed it and put my cloak back on before taking Sabina by the elbow. “Let’s go see if that apprentice is still alive.”
Topar was indeed still alive when we reached him, sitting up and groaning as he rubbed his bloody head. I helped him to his feet and quickly explained what had happened, blaming thieves who had mistaken us for someone else. It wasn’t much, I knew, but I hoped the apprentice would be so shaken by the attack that he wouldn’t focus too much on my explanation. The Son-In-Waiting had just been an unknowing pawn in all this, I realized, sent by Son Michan to draw Sabina and me to this spot, far away from prying eyes. I doubt our attackers had meant for him to live.
“But it makes no sense at all,” Topar said weakly as I steadied him. “I have never heard of such a thing happening in First Step.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I said grimly.
The apprentice wobbled in my grip and Sabina hurried to support his other arm. A stone bench sat further down the pathway, embedded neatly into a section of trimmed hedge. I gestured toward it and we led Topar there, lowering him gently onto the weathered stone. The Son-In-Waiting hissed in pain as he sat, his eyes half-closed as he swayed back and forth.
“Are you going to be all right?” Sabina asked in a concerned voice.
Topar nodded, his face white. “I think so. Everything is just a little foggy at the moment.” He gestured weakly down the path. “You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up to you once my head clears.” I patted the apprentice on the shoulder in agreement, relieved to be rid of him. “You better hurry,” Topar called after us. “If you’re late, you will lose your place in the First Rank.”
I waved a hand over my shoulder in acknowledgment. The Son-In-Waiting didn’t need to know that I had no intention of joining that First Rank, if indeed, we were ever actually meant to be there. Forces were in play against us, and it seemed a certainty that they would continue to look for us. Those forces would probably start searching with the lords, ladies, and other highborn of the First Rank. But behind those privileged few would be hundreds of regular Pilgrims all massed together in a confusing array of identical cloaks. A perfect place for Sabina and me to lose ourselves.
Sometimes the best way to hide is to hide in plain sight.
16: Second Step
The ascent to Second Step turned out to be more difficult than I think any of us had anticipated. The route we traveled proved to be narrow, steep, and treacherous, boxed in on both sides by towering walls of formidable rock. Despite the rapidly strengthening sun overhead, the rain that had fallen had left the ground slick with mud and covered in loose shale. More than one Pilgrim had already tumbled back down the sharp grade, only coming to a stop when soldiers bringing up the rear were able to slow them down.
Sabina and I kept our hoods up and our eyes lowered, losing ourselves within the mass of sweating, cursing Pilgrims. I had seen no sign of searchers so far, but that didn’t necessarily mean eyes weren’t on us somewhere, watching. The morning sun grew warmer as we progressed, and some of the Pilgrims around us started to take off their cloaks. I was getting worried that if the trend continued, then eventually Sabina and I would begin to stand out. But, as midday fast approached, most began to put them back on again to ward off the frigid wind that had started to sweep down on us from higher up the mountain. I noticed small flakes of snow were being carried along on the breeze as well now, just as gruff voices rose ahead, calling for a halt. The First Rank had come to a towering ridge that blocked our path, rising at least fifty feet above their heads before flattening out. The Pilgrims milled about uncertainly near lines of heavy ropes dangling down from the ledge as soldiers barked at them to get moving.
“You have got to be joking,” Sabina said as she stared at the ridge in weary dismay.
Pilgrims around us were muttering uneasily as some of the highborn reluctantly began the ascent.
“Maybe the climb isn’t as bad as it looks from here,” I suggested, trying to sound confident just as a woman’s terrified scream rang out.
One of the Pilgrims had made it halfway up the rope before losing her balance and slipping down. She clung desperately with one hand while waving her other arm wildly about her, which only helped to make things worse. The woman’s hood fell away from her face, revealing long blonde hair and pleasant features. She struggled to grab the rope again with her free hand, then cried out in dismay as she lost her grip entirely and plunged downward. Several soldiers had moved beneath her in case that happened, and one of them caught her awkwardly in his arms. He set her down, then gestured that she should try again.
“Soft are the ladies of the realm,” someone sniggered from within the crowd.
“Aye,” a man ahead of me called out in response. “With all the flesh concentrated in the bum, leaving little left for the arms.”
“I’d not mind a moment or two with some of that noble bum,” another man said wistfully to laughs and shouts of agreement.
I grinned, enjoying the camaraderie of the Pilgrims as we waited for our turn. We slowly began to move forward as the highborn eventually cleared the ropes and left them to the commoners, until finally, it was our turn to climb. I kept my face down as a grizzled soldier thrust the prickly rope into my hands.
“Once you start, don’t stop,” he advised me gruffly. “Whatever you do, don’t look down and don’t fall. You’re one big bastard, and I’d not want to have to try catching you.”
I started to climb, finding it surprisingly easy as I moved upward quickly and efficiently, going hand over hand with booted feet braced against the ridge face for balance. I paused at the halfway point, glancing down to where Sabina was ascending slowly but steadily below me. I studied her movements with a critical eye, then grunted in satisfaction, knowing that she was in little danger of falling. Eager faces appeared over the lip of the ledge as I neared the top, and I could hear their heartfelt shouts of encouragement. I wondered idly why no one offered me a helping hand, but assumed this was just one more silly test of the Pilgrimage.
I finally reached the lip of the ridge and pulled myself onto the smooth rock as Pilgrims clapped and shouted congratulations around me. Emand was one of them and I saw the relief on his face when he recognized me. His wife, Laurea, stood beside him with her thin arms crossed over her withered chest and her mouth turned down in perpetual disapproval.
“I thought you would be at the front with the other highborn,” Emand said as he clapped me soundly on the back.
“Why would you think that?” I asked.
I saw a quick flash of caution in Emand’s eyes that quickly disappeared as he smiled disarmingly. “Why, no reason at all, Rorian.”
More Pilgrims were coming over the ledge behind me now and I moved aside for them, watching anxiously for Sabina. She finally appeared, looking winded as she hauled herself up and over the top. I leaned dow
n and helped her to her feet, then drew her away from the lip.
“How goes the quest for the codex?” Emand asked in a conspiratorial whisper as he followed us. “Have you figured out where it is yet?”
I felt a coldness take over me at his words that had nothing to do with the temperature. I kept my features bland as I shrugged nonchalantly. “Not much has changed,” I said.
“Except someone tried to kill us,” Sabina added.
Emand’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Someone tried to kill you. Who?”
“It’s a long story,” I said gruffly. I looked at Sabina in irritation. “We’re here and they aren’t. That’s all that matters.”
The shoemaker must have read the look on my face, for he turned away, changing the subject as he gestured ahead. “Second Step is quite extraordinary, wouldn’t you agree?”
The climb had brought us onto a surprisingly level plateau, where a smattering of stone buildings stood against the mountain's south-facing wall. The ground remained flat and straight for at least two hundred yards in front of me before falling off to the east into a deep gorge that cut through the land like a giant knife wound. Twisted trees and giant boulders lined the floor of the canyon, and as I looked down, I saw a brief flash of yellow as something large moved beneath the foliage. Emand had delighted in entertaining us with horrific tales of cat-like beasts that preyed upon unsuspecting Pilgrims up here. I wondered if I had just seen one. Thin, rounded rock formations shimmering under a light sheen of ice jutted out from the cliff face high above our heads, looking to me like gigantic, frozen fingers pointing off into the distance.
The wind had increased in strength and felt colder since we reached the ridge, with heavy wet snowflakes swirling in the air now like thousands of excited bees. The sun still remained visible through it all, however, turning each snowflake into a unique, glittering jewel. I shivered as the snow clung to my clothing and beard, and I drew my cloak tighter about me as the four of us began to move forward. As many as twenty iron cooking pots hissed and bubbled over roaring fires farther along the plateau, with bundled-up peasants working at stirring the contents inside. The land on the other side of the cooking fires remained flat for fifty more yards, then began to slope upward, narrowing slowly until the lip of the gorge and cliff face met. I could see a rectangular tunnel at the juncture of the two. That, clearly, would be our path out of Second Step once we had eaten.
The snow hitting the ground had initially melted on the rocks, but as it continued to fall, it started to accumulate quickly, turning our hard, rocky world into a soft-looking, white one within minutes. I sensed something moving above me and I looked up, protecting my eyes from the snowfall. A hawk with a massive wingspan glided serenely far above the camp, peering down at us with passive indifference despite the snow. I thought I could see several more birds just like it circling higher up.
“Red-shouldered hawks,” Emand said, looking up as well. He grinned at me. “Nothing to fear from them.” He winked. “The big cats are another story.”
I grimaced, not relishing another of Emand’s stories. “So, what happens now?” I asked to change his mind as we walked toward the cooking fires.
“We have an hour to rest and eat,” the cordwainer responded. “After that, we climb again until we reach our final camp, Third Step. That will likely be well after dark, if I’m not mistaken.”
“And then the Complex in the morning?” Sabina asked.
“Yes,” Emand said with a cheery smile. “The Complex and Oasis.”
Pilgrims were milling about the cooking pots ahead of us, with grinning peasants handing out steaming wooden bowls and mugs of warm cider. Emand and his wife pushed their way through the crowd, heading for an open cooking fire. I waited, and the moment the two were out of sight, I grabbed Sabina by the elbow and guided her in the opposite direction.
“What’s wrong?” Sabina asked in confusion as I prodded her away. “I thought we were going to eat?”
“We are,” I grunted. I looked over my shoulder, but the cordwainer and his wife were nowhere to be seen. “We’re just going to do it away from them.”
“Why?”
“I’ve gotten a little tired of Emand,” I said, thinking of Malo’s last words to me. Trust no one.
Sabina and I moved to an area far from the place where we had last seen the shoemaker. We gratefully accepted a generous bowl of steaming hunter’s stew and a mug of cider each. We found a place to sit as the snow continued to fall, with Pilgrims hunched over and eating to either side of us and behind. No one spoke, conserving energy as they ate. The ground was cold and wet, and I could feel the chill slowly seeping through my cloak and clothing. Several soldiers were patrolling the perimeter of the massed Pilgrims as I ate and I studied them warily. They could just be there for our protection, I reasoned, but they could also be looking for Sabina and me.
“Maybe we should have stayed with Emand,” Sabina said as she followed my gaze.
“Why?” I asked. I drained my mug and smacked my lips at the sweet and sour taste of the cider, wishing I had thought to grab another.
“Because they will be looking for two Pilgrims doing exactly what we are doing,” Sabina answered.
“Which is?”
“Sitting alone, eating, and looking suspicious. At least with Emand and Laurea, we would have had someone to talk to.”
I thought about that, then hesitated as a soldier focused on us. He blew on his hands to warm them, then slowly began to make his way forward. I cursed under my breath. Had he recognized us? I turned my face away and tapped the Pilgrim sitting behind me on the shoulder.
“Yes?” the man said. He had lowered his hood to eat and I could tell that he was around my age, though he was small of build with a sparse beard. His hair was tied back and covered in snow, and his nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold. A pretty girl with long brown hair twisted in braids down each side sat next to him, looking tired but glowing with an inner happiness.
“Where do you hale from, friend?” I asked in a pleasant voice.
“Blind Hills.”
“I don’t know it,” I said with a shrug. “Where is that?”
“It’s a small village near Fishingwood,” the girl responded for him. She sniffed and wiped at her nose with her sleeve. “We both come from there. Lord Hathelway is our liege lord.”
Sabina finally seemed to understand what I was doing and she turned to the girl. “I love the color of your hair.” Sabina fingered the lengths of her own hair that hung from beneath her hood. “I hate mine.”
“Oh, that’s just silly!” the girl said. “It’s a beautiful color.” She and Sabina began to talk together enthusiastically.
“And you, friend?” my new companion asked. “Where do you call home?”
I thought of Emand. “Hillsfort. I’m a cordwainer there.”
The Pilgrim looked impressed. “A noble trade, to be sure.”
I casually glanced over my shoulder, then breathed a sigh of relief. The soldier had turned, meandering through the sitting Pilgrims now, his breath curling upward in a cloud as he headed away from us.
“What’s your name?” the man asked.
I turned back to him and grinned. “The same as yours, of course. Just call me, Pilgrim.”
The young man chuckled at that as he thrust out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pilgrim.”
“Likewise, Pilgrim,” I said as we shook.
Sabina and I spoke with the couple from Blind Hills for some time, keeping a wary eye out for any suspicious-looking guards. The snow slowly tapered off as we talked and the sun regained its strength, taking some of the chill away. I could hear the melting snow beginning to drip off the rocks as a shrill horn sounded, signaling that it was time to move out. I stood and stretched as people rose to their feet, looking uncertain about what they should do next.
A few of the Pilgrim pairs who had been sitting farther down the plateau began sprinting northeast, clearly hoping to be on
e of the first through the tunnel. Other Pilgrims began to chase after them, and in no time, a solid mass of people started dashing through the slush toward the narrow path between the gorge and the cliff. I saw several fights break out within the pushing and cursing crowd as the space narrowed, and I could hear soldiers shouting for people to stop and turn back. If any Pilgrim heard, however, they ignored the commands in the sudden frenzy to be first.
A small group of twenty or so of the highborn had already gathered near the tunnel entrance. They stood and watched the approaching Pilgrims in amusement, apparently unaware of the danger approaching. One tall man seemed to understand and he strode forward purposefully. He lifted a hand, shouting a command that was lost to me on the wind. I winced as the first of the running Pilgrims reached him and he was brushed aside. The tall man fell, sliding along the slippery rock, until finally he rolled over the lip of the gorge with a cry and disappeared.
Soldiers started to wade into the crazed Pilgrims after that, swinging the flats of their swords wildly in all directions. I could hear more screams echoing from the gorge as several Pilgrims near the edge lost their balance and plunged downward. I thought of the flash of yellow I had seen earlier and I grimaced, trying not to imagine the fate waiting for any who might have survived the fall.
“We have to help them,” Sabina said, starting to move forward.
I grabbed her wrist. “And draw attention to us?” Soldiers were finally beginning to gain control of the situation as they forced the Pilgrims back. I shook my head. “We can’t risk being noticed.”
A few of the highborn were pressed up against the cliff face, with a cordon of soldiers with drawn swords guarding them. The rest of the nobles had fled into the tunnel already. The Pilgrims' screams and cries began to taper off and a sudden, shocked silence filled the plateau as sanity slowly started to return. Many of the Pilgrims fell to their knees in the slush and began weeping uncontrollably.
“It’s the height,” I heard someone say. I turned to see Emand standing beside me. “The air is thinner up here, I’m told.” He shook his head sadly. “Sometimes it can cause hallucinations, even hysteria like this. A shame, really, but not all that surprising.”
The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3) Page 25
