by Ashley Capes
She gave a weak smile. “You’ll work it all out when the time comes.”
“I’m glad you’re confident in me,” Never said. “Since I don’t think I am. How is Luis?”
“He hasn’t woken yet.”
“Well, let’s get something hot ready for when he does.” Never started for the camp. Luis was lucky, if a broken rib could be called lucky. But it was better than internal bleeding, which, so far, it seemed he’d avoided. What he needed was some batena or stone-bulbs to dull the pain, but while the bulbs were possible, the batena wasn’t likely.
“Boil some water, can you?” Never asked. “And see if Mondesa packed any medicine for us. I’m going to look for some herbs for Luis, just in case.” If his luck held he’d be able to find some stone-bulbs to crush down to powder. The paste was a fair painkiller but there was an unfortunate secondary effect; hallucinations. Still, better than nothing.
He strode into the trees and crouched in the undergrowth covering a depression, brushing aside needles from the cold earth until he found the tear-shaped bulbs, half-buried by years of decay. Two only, each no larger than his fingernail, but he harvested them and kept searching until he had enough.
Back in the camp, the pot simmered as Tsolde prepared their meal. “Did you find anything?”
Never nodded as he sat across from the blaze, rummaging around his pack for a second pot and his flask. Placing the stone-bulbs into the pot he added a little water and drew a blade, using the pommel to crush the bulbs into a paste.
It would be applied to Luis’ torso then bandaged – allowing its properties to seep through the skin and dull the pain. Not as potent, perhaps, as ingesting the paste but the hallucinations that tended to result from such a method were far more vivid, even terrifying. As it was, Luis would still experience some strange visions.
“Are we still safe here?” Tsolde asked, glancing to the trees that climbed the ridge.
“We ought to be. I see no reason why any passing Vadiya would take such a detour.”
“What about Snow?”
“No. He’d not set them on our path; he needs me.”
“Not to kill but to capture.”
Never paused. Hadn’t Snow tried as much, back on the river with the thugs? Ever-since, Snow had tried reason but that wouldn’t always be the case. “Perhaps. I’ll scout the road once we have Luis comfortable.”
In the tent, he knelt beside Luis, whose chest rose and fell beneath the blankets. The man rested with a furrowed brow, as if in pain even while he slept. And he probably was. “Luis?” Never placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.
Luis opened his eyes and groaned. “So I didn’t magically heal overnight,” he said.
Never grinned. “No Amouni blood.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he said, wincing when he shifted. “What happened?”
“After Snow hit you we fought some more and he flew away. Tsolde and I got you here and you’ve been unconscious since. Oh, and my hand healed itself.”
Luis blinked rapidly. “Ah...”
“A lot to take in, right?”
“That’s an understatement.”
Never lifted the pot. “This is a paste to help with the pain, I’ll apply it to your skin then we’ll bandage you up again.”
“Do it.”
Never offered his friend a sympathetic smile. “Ready to sit up?”
Luis sucked in a breath and pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, gripping Never’s outstretched arm and grinding his teeth. Never unwound the bandage, working quickly to reveal black bruising running along the man’s lower rib. He applied the paste, re-bandaged Luis and helped him back down. “It won’t work fast but it’ll make a difference,” he said. “But you might hallucinate because of the stone-bulb.”
“As long as it doesn’t cause more pain.”
“If you stay still it shouldn’t. Just don’t chase anything you see.”
Luis frowned. “This is the best medicine you could find?”
“Well, we might be able to come up with something that will help with the actual healing. The paste is only for the pain.”
“So long as it works.”
Never paused at the tent flap. “About last night – don’t do that again, you fool.”
Luis smiled despite obvious pain. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter 2.
“I’m going to try add some meat to that,” Never told Tsolde, once he stood before the fire again. She glanced up from the hardbread and nuts they’d taken from the Vadiya camp.
“How’s Luis?”
“Holding up. Keep an eye on him though, he might see some strange things.”
“Exactly how much did you use?”
“Enough to let him actually rest,” he said.
She snorted. “Well, I found some grenvera to give him when he wakes.”
“Good – how much?”
“A few draughts, no more.”
Grenvera would work wonders, but it was less potent in small doses, it needed time and repeated use to be fully effective. Still, better than nothing. “Well, it could be worse,” Never said.
He returned to the trees to set snares. Hopefully they’d catch something in time for lunch. Then, while Tsolde and Luis rested, he performed some of the more tedious of life’s tasks, mending torn clothing, preparing travel rations, sharpening blades – anything to keep his hands and mind busy while he waited.
Anything to stop him thinking about Snow.
Near noon, the fire concealed and rabbit stew set to simmering, Never rose. “We need to find out what’s happening around us. If I’m not back by nightfall, set a watch and lay low until Luis heals enough to flee into Marlosa; try and find Mondesa and Captain Sirgeto.”
“You want us to head into a warzone?”
He shrugged. “Everywhere is becoming a warzone.”
Never slipped along the trail, pushing aside low-lying branches as he did, until he came to clearer walking. Keeping low, he threaded his way down to an outcropping of rock and lay in the ferns to peer down onto the Folhan Highway. A shiny beetle began a trek up his arm and he nudged it back into the dead fronds that covered the stone.
With his eyes closed, he waited. Listened.
There was no hint of sound coming from either end of the highway – which meant he had two choices. Wait for the possibility of an advance scout from Vadiya forces or venture back toward Giant’s Bridge to see if he could learn something that way. Sacha would know whatever ‘Prince Tendov’ was planning next but that might not give him Snow’s next move at all.
Assuming he could actually speak to her without being clapped in irons.
Risky.
Time passed.
He removed the beetle several more times, he checked on the figure in the marble and sipped at his water. Perhaps he was better off heading for the watchtower and sneaking in to see if forces from the bridge had come across the slaughter.
Never pushed himself up – and froze.
The thunder of hooves. Growing louder. Coming from the direction of the watchtower. Never stood with a sigh. No time for deception or anything clever. If the rider was a Vadiya messenger, then he was going to be stopped by force alone.
Never spun, searching the undergrowth until he found a heavy log. Rolling it free of fern-shoots and moss, he carried it back and crouched at the outcropping. “Closer now,” he urged the rider.
The horse soon appeared, charging around a corner. The rider was a Vadiya messenger, travelling light compared to a Steelhawk, but hardly unarmed, carrying bow and blade. The man’s attention seemed to be focused on the road ahead – and little above him.
Never hefted the log in his hands, tensing his legs.
The rider neared.
Now!
Never shot up, heaving the log down. It crashed into the messenger’s breastplate, knocking him clean off his mount. The man clattered to the stony road and his horse reared and turned back, though it did not bolt. Never lea
pt down to the road and charged forward, knife drawn. The messenger was still. He was either dead or unconscious – both served Never’s ends. No sign of a scroll case or written missive either.
The mount.
Never called to the horse in Vadiyem, keeping his voice low and soothing. The animal snorted but let him approach. Once close enough, he caught the bridle and continued to speak softly. Faint steam rose from the mount’s flanks as Never searched the saddlebags, lifting a hard scroll case free. Sealed with the Hawk of Family Isajan.
He tucked the scroll into his belt, liberated food from the bags and silver from the messenger before leading the horse up into the trees, where he paused to break the seal. The scroll within was covered in the hard, rigid Vadiya script, which made it easy to read at the least. Sacha was reporting to home and requesting more men, little of use there. Never read on. She also expected to meet Tendov’s forces further south than City-Sedrin. He frowned. Why not besiege the city? A force like Jenisan’s left undefeated would be a serious thorn. At the very end, Sacha mentioned a group of three travellers that the Prince was extremely interested in finding for questioning.
Descriptions of he, Luis and Tsolde followed.
“Gods be damned,” he muttered. Snow was indeed planning to capture him – whatever he wanted could obviously wait no longer.
If Never decided to force the issue, it left two directions from which to choose – yet Snow could just as easily head for either, or both, and make much better time than Never.
After all, his brother was the one with wings.
Never returned to camp before darkness, hailing softly as he did. Tsolde stood, knife in hand, from where she’d been sitting before the clean-burning blaze. “Where did you find the horse?” she asked, a smile crossing her features.
“At the very convenient travelling horse-trader I happened to come across.”
“Very funny.”
“Vadiya scout. We’re quite lucky; since Luis can ride, we can leave sooner than I thought.”
“And where are we going?”
He tossed her the scroll. “According to that, I think we have only one option.”
She frowned at him. “I can’t read Vadiyem, you fool.”
“Right. Lady Isajan is expecting Prince Tendov south of the Silver City and she also wants more men, so we can expect a lot more activity on this highway soon enough if they draw them from Marlosa.”
“Why? What is in the south?”
“I have no idea,” Never said. “But it’s worse. The ‘prince’ is also looking for us, handing out descriptions in those messages, and you can be certain it isn’t the only messenger he’ll send. I think the safest option is to head into Marlosa. We can put some distance between us and Isajan and get Luis to a proper healer at the same time.”
“Could we stay here too? We seem well hidden.”
“It’s a bigger risk, since there’s a small army behind us and limited medicine if Luis worsens.”
She nodded slowly. “And Snow doesn’t need us, he needs you. We’re expendable to him.”
“But not to me,” Never said. “So we’d better break camp and see if we can keep ahead of him.”
“It’s getting dark, Never.”
“True, and we’ll have to go slow for Luis anyway. But it’s better than staying still and the dark should make it harder for Snow to see us if he decides to search himself.”
“You mean, from the sky?” her voice was a little awed.
“Hard to get used to isn’t it?”
She nodded. “I’ll wake Luis then. I hope he’ll be able to ride.”
“As do I.”
Chapter 3.
Never led them down the mountain and into the foothills, tension growing with the changing scenery. It was not the easing of the chill wind or the disappearance of ferns in the undergrowth, the dwindling pines, the swathes of yellow grain spreading beyond the foothills or the scarcely visible line of the Ebina River – all the things that signalled a homecoming.
Any fondness that could have warmed his heart was held at bay by the lingering scent of smoke on the afternoon air.
“We’re still too high to smell smoke from a ransacked village on the plains, aren’t we?” Tsolde asked, her brow furrowed.
Never nodded. “Perhaps a mountain hamlet. There are several nearby.”
Luis said nothing. Sweat lined his brow as he held the reins, but his expression darkened. He’d been riding without complaint, but with the last of the herbs gone, it was clear he was now suffering.
The highway bent around a stand of trees and the scent of smoke grew, still no more than a bitter taste on Never’s tongue rather than a spectre within the trunks. But the source was soon revealed. A pile of blackened bodies rested beside the road, surrounded by hewn earth. Near as tall as a man, it had to contain at least two score, possibly more men. Ash and char littered the highway. A gauntlet peeked from mud in a ditch beneath the pile.
No faces were discernible, merely black shadows within the heap of half-formed limbs and armour. A blackened breastplate hung from a stake that had been driven into the stony earth before the pile.
Vadiya script was scratched across the surface.
“What does it say?” Luis asked.
“It says ‘We hunt you now’,” Never replied. “Or close enough – there’s a mistake in the word order but the meaning is clear.”
“Captain Sirgeto and his men?” Tsolde asked.
“It’s certainly possible.”
Never led them beyond and down into the foothills. Though their supplies were holding up well enough, Luis needed more medicine. And the deeper they headed into Marlosa the greater chance there was of running into Vadiya forces. Even following Sirgeto’s trail of death as they were, didn’t guarantee they’d avoid enemy soldiers. It probably increased the chances of running afoul of the Vadiya, if any had caught wind of Sirgeto’s frenzied resistance.
And frenzied it seemed.
At the sites of three more skirmishes it appeared that Vadiya scouting parties – and a once larger force – had been wiped out by the Captain and his small band. Good on him. Never had to acknowledge a twinge of pleasure, but there was a fair chance such strikes would draw more attention to the area.
And he couldn’t afford that.
Barley and other grains stood in the fields, tall and golden but much of it brown and decaying too. In places, husks littered the roadside and the kernels were beginning to wither as the pending winter harvest would likely go unheeded.
“Let’s take a moment,” Never said as he paused on one of the low, wooden fences that lined the road. A breeze rustled the stalks behind him and somewhere in the distance a bird cried out. “This road is still important to the Vadiya – we’re going to run into them sooner or later, whether it’s forces heading into Hanik or the other way around, whether they’re looking for us specifically or not.” And there was even a chance one of those forces would be led by Sacha, something else he needed to avoid.
“And that’s going to be true on any road, isn’t it?” Tsolde said.
“Less so, but you’re right. It’s just one reason why I think we need to rest again.” He looked to Luis, whose hair was sweat-dampened once more. His eyes bore a glazed look, something that hadn’t been evident earlier that morning.
“I’m fine, Never,” Luis said. “I can go on.”
“Very well, to the nearest farmhouse then,” Never replied. He glanced along the highway, which was half-torn by hooves and boots. A crossroad sign stood dark against the afternoon light. Nowhere could he see woodsmoke on the sky, but nor would he if people were laying low. “Let’s see what’s down there.”
The crossroad offered more grain stretching forth, yet the western fields had been razed to the ground, no more than blackened stubs remaining, dotted throughout the gentle contours of ash-choked earth. In the distance, a barn stood but nothing else.
Tsolde looked to it but Never shook his head. “The first place any
one will look if they’re sweeping the area.”
Further east waited simply more fields. The crops were a little shorter, but the path heading north, running almost parallel with the Folhan Ranges, was more promising. The wheat stood taller and the land seemed to dip. “This way.” Never started down the path, Tsolde leading Luis. The man swayed a little in his saddle but was staying upright.
For now.
Never turned down the first narrow trail, which eventually led to a large farm set off from the fields and surrounded by a square of dying grass. The building was quiet, still. White walls bore no scorch marks or otherwise, the doors were closed yet there was an emptiness to it. No smoke rose from the chimney, no sense of movement between windows.
“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” Never said.
At the door he drew a knife and leant against the wood, straining his hearing. No sounds from within. He pushed on the door but it remained shut. “Around back,” he said. Never glanced into each window he passed but curtains blocked his view.
The rear door was closed. Never forced it open, calling a greeting.
Silence.
“We’d like to shelter here, if we may?”
He moved from room to room, finding only emptiness. A table set, a new wick in a tallow candle, chairs in place, an unmade bed in one room and two more atop a loft. Only the pantry revealed evidence of hasty retreat; bare shelves with naught but crumbs left on a piece of cloth. A thin trail of ants led from the crumbs to a chink in the wall.
Had the people here fled before the Vadiya? Or, been taken?
Outside, he nodded to Tsolde. “Seems empty. Think you could look after the horse and get some water boiling?”
“I can,” she said.
Never helped Luis from the horse, taking his friend’s weight with a grunt of surprise.
“I’m not that heavy, am I?” Luis gasped.
“You’ve probably lost weight,” Never said, glad Luis couldn’t see his expression, since the man’s eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Tsolde took the reins and led the mare into the stable, mouth pressed into a firm line.
“That’s not a good sign, is it?” Luis said.
