“Me?” I asked, startled.
“Aye. She asked me what I thought of you, whether you used heart or brain or gut to make decisions. More than once, she asked what I thought of your mettle. I replied forthrightly as I could. Methinks I spoke well enough in a hard spot, for in the end she told me about Sirrahon. That she had no knowledge of how to stop thy monster, but she knew who did.”
“Oh, great.” I kicked at the turf with my shoe toe. “This is starting to feel like an old-fashioned snipe hunt.”
“Knowest I not of snipe, but they must be most troublesome beasts. For the Albess revealed to me that the one to speak with was ‘The Old Man of the Mountain’.”
Galen let out a gasp. “Thea said to speak with...” A chill raced down the small of my back as the centaur wizard’s face took on a fearful cast. “Dayna, there is a legend I heard from Good King Benedict. Of an ancient spirit that lives atop the mountain to the north of the palace. A spirit that knows many things of the past and the future, a spirit that observes all there is to see.”
“Okay, I get the picture,” I sighed. “We have a freelance oracle on our hands. But if he’s atop the nearest mountain, how far away could he be?”
The wizard pointed up towards a peak that was just visible from where we stood. The summit rose above the walls, high but devoid of snow. The way looked steep and rocky, but surprisingly within reach. “A few hours away, if one has a reasonably solid mount.”
“That close? Then why don’t the locals go up and talk to him on a regular basis?”
“In the first place, because the Ancient Guild of Soothsayers discouraged it.” Galen’s lips curled into a wry expression as he added, “They claimed that the Old Man’s half-baked prophecies were inaccurate, which could make people distrust real predictions from approved-of prognosticators.”
“I get it. Short answer: It’s bad for business. Theirs.”
“Even so, there is another reason, one that made me pay heed. It is said that seeing the Old Man puts one in the utmost peril for one’s life.”
Shaw nodded vigorously. “The Albess spoke of much the same thing. In fact, she beseeched me to make this risk known to Dayna.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I have you three to back me up,” I said, putting on a brave face. “Didn’t Shaw once say that we can out-run, out-fly, out-fox, or out-fight anything?”
“Thou hast touched on the most troubling thing spoken to me by the Albess,” Shaw intoned. “I said as much to Thea, but she bade me silent with a wave of one wing. And then she insisted that I make one thing clear: That our deaths were nigh certain…unless Dayna spoke to the Old Man by herself.”
The chill that had run down my back climbed back up into my gut, tied itself into an icy knot, and settled into my stomach for a nap.
Just my rotten luck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The huge knight bearing the sign of a white half-moon on his shield scowled at me. Though he wore the natty red and black uniform of the palace guard, his dark, shaggy beard was in need a good trimming. His face had a youthful arrogance, and his eyes held all the warmth of a cop who’d just pulled someone over for speeding through a school zone.
“King Fitzwilliam is out hunting,” the man explained irritably, “and I do not recognize you as either a noblewoman or the holder of a royal appointment. So be off, before I call my captain.”
“You may not recognize me,” I replied, trying to keep my temper in check, “but surely you remember the court wizard?”
Galen stood behind me, his face set in a dark scowl. This had been enough to make Bob McClatchy reconsider some strong words to me, but it didn’t have any effect on this charter member of the idiot brigade.
“Oh, aye. Him, I remember. Though when the king is absent, the wizard’s status is simply that of the Centaur monarch’s unwelcome whelp. Should we need someone for puppetry or pony rides, then I shall call upon you.”
Something akin to a growl came from Galen’s throat. But before I could open my mouth and cause any more trouble, a second knight, an older man wearing gold-trimmed plate armor, stepped into the hallway next to us with a clank.
“What is the cause of this commotion?” His voice was deep, curt.
“Malingerers, sir,” the first knight said, and though he inclined his head with a short bow, his gaze never left his superior’s face. “I was just seeing them off.”
In a flash, I recognized the man in gold-edged armor. The Commander of the Palace Guard had been present when I’d unmasked the Good King Benedict’s murderer, and he’d helped me take both Captain Vazura and Lord Behnaz into custody.
“Commander Yervan,” I greeted him, “I hope you won’t turn away a fellow servant of King Fitzwilliam.”
Yervan’s grizzled expression was grim, but his face held enough room for smiles as well as frowns. “I see you, Lady Chrissie,” he said kindly. “Though I daresay you don’t count yourself a servant of anyone.”
Galen coughed politely into his hand at that. My reputation preceded me, I guess.
“I have been charged by the king to bring the murderer of Captain Vazura to justice, and I need help in following up the best lead I have.”
Admittedly, that was a slight stretch. But the party that killed Vazura was the same one that didn’t want me finding out about Sirrahon. So it was related, so far as I was concerned.
Yervan straightened up as he absorbed the information. “If you’re on a king’s mission, then simply speak what you need.”
“A mount from the royal stables. Preferably something steady of nerve and not too fiery. I’m going to be climbing mountain trails, not heading into combat.”
“You shall have it.” Yervan motioned to his subordinate. “Sir Ivor, bring a mount hither that meets Lady Chrissie’s requirements.”
He got a snort in reply. “Fetch a mount for a peasant outworlder and one of the horseborn?”
“Perform your duties, boy. Or I’ll assign you to fetch slop for the royal pigsty.”
To my surprise, instead of further insubordination, Yervan got a salute before the man went off at a trot. The Commander made a shallow bow in Galen’s direction.
“Apologies, wizard. This ponce of a lord’s son is new to the guard. In time we shall mold him into shape, the way a blacksmith beats out a sword.”
“Accepted,” Galen replied. “Let us hope the metal hasn’t set hard enough to blunt the hammer.”
Yervan turned his attention back to me. “Since all our horses rightly belong to the king, might I ask how this mount will allow you to ‘follow up your best lead’?”
I traded a look with Galen before answering. “The best lead I have is to speak to someone called ‘The Old Man of the Mountain’.”
The Commander raised an eyebrow at that. “Those are dark tidings. Are you sure that you do not wish an escort of knights?”
Yeah, that offer didn’t make me feel any better about where I was going. But I wasn’t about to ignore what Albess Thea had told Shaw.
“I’ll have a wizard, the Heir to the Fayleene throne, and a battle-tested griffin with me. I should be fine.”
“I concede the point.” The older knight rubbed his chin with a gauntleted hand. “Yet there have been disturbing reports from all along our borders as of late. Tales of strange fires in the distance, sounds like two armies clashing from the next valley over. Scouts who’ve touched ne’er a drop of mead in months are coming back with stories of trees as big around as a house, ripped out of the ground by the roots.”
I swallowed. “Those sound like darker tidings than I have to deal with, Commander.”
“Mayhap. Yet my instincts tell me that something is afoot.”
* * *
The Commander was as good as his word, and in no time I had a freshly kitted-out gray mare to ride. Though the afternoon remained fair, it did little to lighten my mood. Thea’s warning kept playing through my mind.
But while I’d meet this ‘Old Man’ alone, I’d be damned
if I was going to travel through open country under these dark omens without an escort. Galen led the way through the palace gates and up along the northern paths. Liam trotted alongside my horse while Shaw soared above, scouting ahead and reporting back to us at regular intervals.
The bulk of the city surrounding Fitzwilliam’s demesne stretched to the south and east. So we passed through relatively few streets and attracted less attention from the citizenry as we galloped by. Outside the city proper, the rows of houses gave way to smaller and smaller cottages, separated by wide fields of golden wheat.
Eventually, these gave way to a forest of rowan and ash trees. Then the forest landscape shifted into different types of pine as the road began to slope upwards into long switchbacks. We forded a trio of small streams and began to pick our way across wide banks of thumbnail-sized gravel washed down from the mountains.
The way wasn’t rough going, not exactly, but my horse had to pick her way amongst piles of ankle-turning stone at points. Liam and Galen had to do the same. Still, Liam’s normally cheerful countenance had taken on a painfully worried cast. That concerned me almost as much as the ill tidings about the route we were on.
“What is it, Liam?” I asked. “Are the…I guess, the animals in your ‘service’ still telling you anything?”
“That’s what has been bothering me,” the Fayleene admitted, as he clambered over the latest gravelly rise. “I’m not getting much of anything anymore. Brief flashes here and there. No panic, I think. But I sense a lot of movement. Deeper into the core of the wood.”
My horse stumbled on the far bank, sending down a shower of pebbles as she fought to keep upright. Galen turned back and helped steady my mount.
“Careful,” he warned, “this is all loose. It’s mine tailings from upriver.”
We took it slower after that. The gravel-strewn banks fell behind and the tree cover began to fail. A chill wind blew up as we left the last line of trees. Only stunted, thorny shrubs as high as a man sprouted between the tumbled landscape of boulders.
Another half-hour passed in silence as we picked our way through the boulder fields. Shaw landed next to us as we approached a silent gray ceiling of fog. The griffin eyed it with a growing unease as we drew closer. Finally, as we reached a jagged outcropping at the edge of one switchback, he called a halt.
“Stay thy mount,” Shaw announced. “Bide a moment.”
It was as good a spot as any, I supposed. I dismounted and then leaned out carefully over the edge. Felt the updraft whistle through the strands of my hair. Far, far below, the trail notched its way back and forth down the slope, disappearing into the dark green line of trees. Even further out, the gravel banks were a tan scar wrapped in the silvery braids of rushing water. Off towards the horizon, the battlements of Fitzwilliam’s palace jutted up from the surrounding hills like the prow of a huge gray ship.
Galen rummaged through his saddlebags. He pulled out a water bag made of sewn goatskin and gave it to me. I gratefully squeezed out a stream of clean, but lukewarm water into my mouth and swirled it around. The wizard then passed out handfuls of wrinkly green apples, which we all accepted gratefully. Liam was able to crunch one down in four bites; Galen needed only two, while Shaw’s jackhammer beak handled a half-dozen in the blink of an eye. Me, I decided to savor the granny-smith tartness of whatever breed of apple tree this came from.
“Humble fare, I realize,” Galen said. “But all I could acquire on short notice from the palace stores. I earnestly hope that you’ll be able to find this Old Man prior to sunset. I don’t think we’ll be able to pick our way back down in the dark.”
“I should be able to return on my own,” Liam pointed out. “But unless you wish to send word back to the court, we are stronger together than apart.”
“The Fayleene speaks true,” Shaw put in. “I could chance a flight, ere nightfall. Wizard, perhaps your magic would suffice to bring the rest of the party back?”
A shake of the head. “Not until after moonrise, at least. Transportation is one of the costliest spells in my repertoire, and we’ve been draining my magic dry all day today.”
“I understand, Galen.” I rubbed my thigh muscles, felt the dull ache that came from riding. My body wasn’t quite as green as it had been the first time I’d done long-distance riding in this world. But the saddle was still making me pretty darned sore. “Whenever we want to continue, I’m ready to roll.”
A cough from the griffin.
“I think that thy way from here should be on foot. And alone.”
My voice sounded tinny, weak. “We must be closer to the summit than I realized.”
“Aye. It’s not far along this trail. And it is strange…” Shaw cocked his head to one side, as if that would help change his memory. “Perhaps my senses grow tricksy. For a moment, I thought the fog parted. A sole ray of sunlight illuminated a flash of red and silver. The gleam of a pair of amber-colored eyes hidden in the mist.”
Rocks clattered as Liam leapt to his feet and blocked the path.
“Dayna, this isn’t right. There’s something bad up there, I can feel it.” He tossed his head, bone-white antlers bright against the mist above. “I should be the one to go. All of this has been because of me.”
Galen and Shaw went silent, eyes riveted on what I would say or do next.
“No, Liam.” I sighed. “I don’t like this either. But I’m the one who should go up…because Wyeth was right.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father slaughtered one of your people for no good reason, save that of ‘sport’.”
“We’ve talked about this.” Liam came to stand before me. His liquid eyes bored into mine. “It wasn’t your fault! You have nothing to prove.”
The screams of the Fayleene from my earlier nightmare echoed in my head as I spoke. I cursed Destry’s ‘Dream Speaker’ and all of her ilk.
“I think I do.” I touched the side of my head. “Up here, I know I’m not at fault. But down inside, that old murder gnaws at me. I can’t escape it. And I have confidence in Thea’s wisdom. If she says it’s dangerous for anyone but me to go up there, I’m going to trust her call.”
“You really have that much faith in her?”
“Why not?” I quirked a grin at my deer friend. “She’s the one who sent me to find you when I most needed a Fayleene, after all.”
Liam stepped aside.
I walked further up the path, leaning into the narrow, steeply slanting slope. A gust of wind pulled the mist down around me. It cut off the view of my friends as if some celestial stagehand had pulled down a somber gray curtain. I went on, feeling the wetness in the air turn to beads of clear moisture against my skin, on the tips of my hair.
I went on. Despite the moist air, my tongue still felt strangely dry. It didn’t help wash out the leathery taste of the water from the skin bag, though. Sounds became muted as I continued along a seemingly endless corridor of vapor. All I could hear was the crunch of my shoes over rock, the wheeze of my breath, and the dull throb of my heartbeat in my eardrums.
Suddenly, I spotted the glint of gold just ahead. I picked up my pace for a moment, and then froze in my tracks. A single shaft of sunlight carved its way through the mist from left to right, illuminating a wide, tumbledown summit of multicolored stones. The ray shone as brilliantly through the mist as a spear of light down a mine shaft.
It took me a moment to understand exactly what I was looking at.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The late afternoon sunlight cleaved through the fogbank that clung to the summit. It cast a bright yellow glow over a vine-draped granite boulder the size of a pretty hefty passenger car. A flash of amber and silver caught my eye.
A magnificent silver fox perched atop the rock like a king receiving visitors. The animal’s lush pelt carried patches of red against silver. A wise, knowing face framed amber eyes. The effect was spoiled a bit by its lolling tongue as it sat panting from some recent exertion.
I should
have known. Little was as it seemed in the realm of Andeluvia, and I’d met more than one sentient animal in my travels. I bowed respectfully to the ‘Old Man’ and introduced myself.
“Greetings, wise one,” I stated formally. “I am a traveler from a world far from here, but I have come seeking your wisdom.”
The fox simply looked at me without a shred interest. It continued to pant.
I tried again. Maybe the animal was hard of hearing.
“Greetings, wise one!” I began, this time raising my voice to a near-shout.
But before I could go on, the fox scratched one ear with the stretch of a rear leg and got up. Without any ceremony, it wandered off into the surrounding mist. I called after it, not sure if I should chase it down. Somehow that didn’t seem all that polite.
Then I felt a strangely familiar movement of air. The warm, masculine voice of every kid’s favorite grandfather echoed in my ear.
“How curious,” the voice said. “Why in all of Andeluvia are you speaking to the fox?”
Startled, I looked around. No figure loomed up out of the fog, and yet the voice sounded very close.
“Um…I was looking for the Old Man of–”
“Yes, yes,” the voice said wearily, and with a touch of impatience. “The Old Man of the Mountain. You’d think that after all of these centuries, someone would come up with a better name. I mean, I’m not a man. Or a woman. Or anything else gendered, for that matter.”
I scratched my head in confusion. “But the fox…”
“Look a little lower.”
“But…I don’t see anything but a big…”
I almost smacked myself in the forehead right then.
“Of course. I should’ve figured that in this world, the ‘Old Man of the Mountain’ would have to be a rock.”
“Spirit stone, if you please.”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
“I don’t either. For example, I should offer you something to eat or drink out of common courtesy. But we’re pretty far from the nearest alehouse.” The grandfatherly voice dropped to a stage whisper. “And besides, I’m a rock. We don’t really get out and about much.”
The Deer Prince's Murder: Book Two of 'Fantasy & Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 2) Page 16
