“And she ran off?” Tiercel asked, looking around again.
“I guess so. If she’s going to pull stunts like that, it’s not like she’d be the best company anyway,” Harrier pointed out. And it wasn’t entirely fair, to his way of thinking, for Kareta to expect them to feed her when—as far as Harrier knew—she was perfectly capable of finding her own food. And they hadn’t asked for her company in the first place.
With the wagon as fully loaded as it was, they needed to move a number of things before Tiercel could get at the items he needed for the evening’s practice session. Harrier took the opportunity to get out the big brazier, the bedrolls, and a number of the other items they’d need for evening camp, doing his best not to wince and swear, because he’d been sitting for long enough to stiffen up nicely, and moving hurt. At least he didn’t need to bring out the ground tarp—they’d be needing it to sleep on in another sennight or so, but right now they only had to deal with a heavy morning frost, and the ground was still dry. Still, they were heading into winter, and sooner or later the ground would be wet when they stopped to camp and he had no intention of sleeping on wet ground.
When all that was done, he led the horses down to the stream for their drink, taking the bucket he’d need to bring back their own water. He’d hobble the horses when he got back and let them graze, then go and gather wood for the fire while it was still light (only felltimber, since Elunyerin and Rilphanifel had been very insistent that he must never cut down a tree anywhere in the Elven Lands) and get the evening fire going. It was cool enough, now that the sun was setting, that a fire would be welcome, even though Tiercel could provide all the light they needed. When those chores were done, he’d clean the tack. All of those things (along with getting the meal ready, most evenings) usually occupied him until Tiercel was done with his evening’s practice, and by then it was dark, and when Tiercel came back from practicing he was too worn out to do much besides eat and fall into his blankets, and there wasn’t much else to do around the camp at night, really, after he’d cleaned up after the evening meal. If Harrier wanted he could sit up and talk to Ancaladar; Ancaladar said that dragons did sleep, but not as often as humans, and when they did sleep, it was usually for a lot longer. Ancaladar had said, in a sort of offhand fashion, that he was probably going to be awake for the rest of Tiercel’s life, which gave Harrier the creeps, just a little, although it was nice to know that no matter where they were, there’d be somebody awake and on watch.
But assuming he actually intended to read the Books of the Wild Magic, Harrier wondered when he was supposed to do it. And if there was any practicing involved. Not of the Knight-Mage fighting and stuff. He assumed there had to be practicing there. But of the magic and casting spells part. All the wondertales just said that the Wildmages got their Three Books and then they “had” their magic—but of course, none of those stories had been written by Wildmages. And Harrier didn’t feel one bit more magical than he had a sennight ago.
No son of Antarans Gillain was a stranger to hard work, and he’d had plenty of time by now to settle into the routine of setting up camp for the night. Once Harrier got Nethiel and Dulion settled, the longest part of things was always finding wood for the fire, since he could never count on finding some without a long hunt. Some days—if he didn’t have to spend too much time at it—he gathered up some during the midday stop. Of course, today he’d been more than a little distracted….
Thinking about Kareta made Harrier growl with irritation, though it wasn’t her he was irritated with just now. He’d been careless not to at least consider the possibility she might come sneaking up on him. It was true she hadn’t pushed him into the stream the first time, but she’d been happy enough to see him fall in. It was also true that unicorns were Otherfolk, and he certainly couldn’t even begin to imagine how a unicorn would think. But he’d been around Kareta for long enough by the time she’d kicked him into the stream to know, if not what she was really like, then what she wanted him to think she was like. And that person (if it was only an act, and not who Kareta really was) was just the sort of person who’d come sneaking around to pay him back for making her look stupid. Light knew Harrier’d faced down two-legged bullies who thought exactly that way often enough. He should have expected it.
But you didn’t. Just because she’s a unicorn. He snorted rudely. Harrier Gillain, just listen to yourself! True, though. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Prettier than a three-master full-rigged heading out for Deep Ocean. And oh, Light Defend Us, you can’t let things like that matter—not if you’re going to keep your head on your shoulders, and Tyr’s head on his! Because he says that Fire Woman he keeps dreaming about is beautiful, too, and I’m scared to death she isn’t just a what-you-call-it, a symbol. I think she’s real, and it stands to reason that means we’re going to see her before this is all done. If we live to get that far….
He’d learned his lesson, though—or he hoped he had—and he certainly had an aching back to set the lesson firmly into his mind. He didn’t go too far from the wagon as he looked for kindling, and he kept an eye and an ear open for trouble the whole time he was gathering wood. He was lucky enough to find a whole tree, too—a sapling, really—that had been uprooted in a storm and had fallen against two live trees. It had died—and dried out—in place, and would make fine firewood now. He dragged it, along with the rest of his gatherings, back to the campsite, and used the small axe to help him break the longer branches he’d gathered into short chunks suitable for burning. Of course it would have been easier to start the fire if Tiercel had been there just to point at it, but Harrier had been starting fires with flint and steel most of his life, and it only took him a couple of minutes to strike sparks into tinder and then ignite the smaller twigs. Once the fire was burning, he lit the lanterns—though he didn’t quite need them yet—then quickly chunked the sapling into logs. It was enough wood so that he probably wouldn’t need to go looking for more tomorrow.
All that was left to do was wash his hands and light the tea-brazier, then wrestle the hamper out of the wagon, since he knew perfectly well that Tiercel would be too tired to help with it when he got back. It was heavy, but he managed. He added a jug of the fruit cordial from Blackrowan Farm to the evening’s provisions—Lanya had said that if you mixed it with hot water, it made a soothing evening drink, and he thought it might be a good thing to try.
In the distance, across the road, he could see the intermittent flashes of light as Tiercel practiced. He was a little more curious about what Tiercel did now than he had been. Tiercel said he was mostly practicing “spells of protection,” and Harrier had no idea of what he meant by that. Whatever it was, apparently it took a lot of practicing.
He poked around in the hamper, and ate an apple or two, and finally—about the time it was starting to get really dark—Tiercel came walking back, with Ancaladar following him. You couldn’t exactly say that Ancaladar moved “ponderously,” but it was hard to see something that large moving at all and think of him as moving gracefully, even though Ancaladar did. The ball of Coldfire that hovered above Tiercel’s head as it always did on his way back from practice gave the parts of Ancaladar it shone on a foggy bluish gleam, and in the dusk, the black dragon looked almost insubstantial.
When the two of them reached the wagon, Ancaladar folded himself up neatly and settled himself on the grass. Tiercel flopped down onto the blanket beside Harrier and sighed. “It doesn’t get any easier,” he said.
“Oh come on,” Harrier scoffed. “You haven’t even been doing this a fortnight yet. Complain when you’ve been practicing for a moonturn at least.” He poured hot water into the waiting pot, then poured more into one of the mugs already half-filled with berry cordial. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” Tiercel asked, taking the wooden mug.
“Poison, of course,” Harrier answered promptly, and Tiercel snorted in amusement.
“It’s good,” he said, when he set the mug aside.
�
�Lanya said they drink the cordial that way in winter. It isn’t winter yet, but you’re always cold after you practice,” Harrier said. “Now eat before you fall asleep.”
Harrier divided up the second chicken and set it out on plates. He knew he really didn’t have to—and Tiercel tended to complain if Harrier spent too much time nurse-maiding him—but if he had to choose between listening to Tiercel complain, and trying to bandage him up in the dark when he cut himself with his own eating knife, Harrier would take complaints every time. And no matter what the Elves had said about a dragon taking the place of the mysterious “something” that a High Mage needed to power his magic, Tiercel was always dead tired after practicing.
About the time the tea was ready, Ancaladar raised his head. “H’m,” he said, in thoughtful tones.
Kareta was walking slowly toward them. Her head was down, and her tail practically dragged on the grass. Even her ears drooped. She stopped a few feet away.
“I know you won’t believe me,” she said in a low voice, “but… I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Harrier asked. He was surprised at how calm he felt. Not the least bit angry.
“For kicking you into the water. That was wrong.”
“Yes it was,” Harrier agreed. His back still ached. “Is there anything else you’re sorry for?” He had the bizarre sensation that he’d suddenly become his father, because he’d been on the receiving end of just such a series of questions so many times when he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Both his parents thought that punishing their children didn’t do any good if they didn’t know exactly what they were being punished for. And Antarans Gillain was a fair man; if any of his children could prove either that they hadn’t known what they were doing was wrong, or that it wasn’t actually wrong, they wouldn’t be punished for their actions. And because he’d always listened first, no matter how angry he was, they’d repaid that faith in them with honesty.
Kareta’s head drooped even lower. “I’m sorry I took your food without asking. I… I’m sorry I took it. Because that wasn’t right.”
“Okay,” Harrier said. Tiercel opened his mouth to speak, but Harrier held up his hand. “I’m glad you apologized for both those things—” he really did sound like his father, right now “—and I’m glad you’re sorry. But what we both—what we all—need to know is that you aren’t going to do them again.”
“I won’t,” Kareta said. “I promise.”
“Okay,” Harrier said, trying not to sigh with relief. “We’ll say no more about it then.” He really didn’t like laying down the law to a unicorn, even an incredibly annoying one. And he couldn’t imagine what he would have said if she’d told him she was just going to go on and do the same things again.
Kareta seemed to be just as relieved as he was. “What are you eating?” she asked hopefully.
“Chicken. Bread. Cheese,” Tiercel said. “There are apples.”
“May I have an apple?” Kareta asked politely.
Tiercel scrambled forward to dig into the hamper and find one for her. Harrier grinned to himself. He didn’t think that Kareta’s extravagant politeness would last—but he didn’t think she’d go back to snatching food out from under their noses, either.
Seven
Beyond the Veil
WE’RE ALMOST THERE,” Kareta said cheerfully.
It was a fortnight later, and the last two sennights had been peaceful to the point of boring. Harrier wondered who kept order in the Elven Lands, because unless they were a lot different than humans, someone had to. When he’d finally gotten curious enough to ask Ancaladar about it (and to explain something of what he meant), the dragon had told him that the Elven Knights did much of what he was thinking of, and the Forest Rangers did the rest. Between them, the two groups protected trade caravans, succored lost travelers, and dealt with the extremely infrequent cases of actual violence.
“The Elves have been a peaceful people since long before your kind built cities,” Ancaladar had said. “I do not say that there is no strife or unhappiness here in the Elven Lands, for there is unhappiness everywhere. But violence such as is common in the Lands of Men … that would have to come from outside. And no merely mortal enemy can pass Pelashia’s Veil.”
“Then why are there Elven Knights at all?” Tiercel had asked. “I mean, if they don’t have anyone to fight.”
“Because Elven memories are long, Bonded,” Ancaladar had said.
Three days after they’d left Blackrowan Farm, the road had simply come to an end. Harrier had been a little worried at first, but the wagon was sturdy and well-sprung, and the ground was still fairly level, and since Ancaladar said that the stream continued in the direction they needed to go, he’d simply followed that for the next few days.
After that, the stream had taken a sharp bend away from the direction they needed to go. They weren’t making as much progress each day as they had been on the road—at least the wagon wasn’t—because they’d moved out of open country and into woodland. While it was true that the trees weren’t so close together that Harrier couldn’t get the wagon between them, he did have to spend more time searching for a suitable path than he had when they’d been on the road.
Kareta, to his great surprise, was actually useful. It was true that she had no real notion of what paths the wagon could take and which it couldn’t, but once they’d stopped following the stream, the other thing they needed to do on a regular basis was find water, and Kareta was eager to help.
One of the items that had been a part of the wagon from the very beginning—unused until now—was a set of barrels lashed over the forward axles. The two barrels could hold enough water to take care of their needs for several days. Of course, Harrier had to find a water source in order to fill them—and to his amazement, the first time the level in the barrels began to drop, Kareta volunteered to go look for water.
“Don’t you know anything about unicorns?” she’d demanded, tossing her head.
“You know exactly what I know about unicorns,” Harrier had answered gruffly. “If you find water, kindly remember I’d like to be able to get the wagon next to it.”
She hadn’t quite been able to manage that. But when she’d found a spring, he was able to get the wagon close enough that he didn’t have to haul the buckets too far.
“Don’t worry if the water’s muddy,” Kareta said. “Or if it goes bad.”
“Why not?” Harrier asked, and when she opened her mouth to reply, he added, “And don’t just tell me again that I don’t know anything about unicorns.”
“Because I can purify it for you,” Kareta said, sounding indignant at having to explain.
“Okay. Fine.”
A few days later she had to do just that, because the water she led him to was a deep pond completely covered with green slime. It stank.
“I’m not going to drink that,” Harrier had said simply.
“Wait,” Kareta had answered. She’d knelt down, and touched her horn to the pool. A blue shimmer had spread out from the point at which her horn touched the water, and a moment later the entire pool was crystal clear. She’d looked smug—or as smug as she could look, anyway—and at the evening meal, Harrier had brought out the last of the apples and fed them to her.
“You earned them,” he said simply.
AND NOW THEY’D reached the edge of the Elven Lands. Ancaladar had seen the Veil yesterday and had told Harrier that they’d cross it today. He hadn’t flown beyond it, as he wasn’t entirely sure, he’d said, if he’d be able to get Tiercel back through. Certainly an Elven Mage could pass back and forth through the barrier with ease, and Ancaladar could travel back and forth through the Veil alone, but he didn’t want to risk what might happen to Tiercel if he attempted to bring him back through the Veil.
“I don’t see anything,” Harrier said dubiously, looking where Kareta was pointing. There were trees all around them—trees ahead, trees behind—and somewhere in the next mile or so, the edge of the Elven Lands. I
n Harrier’s opinion, there ought to be a marker stone, or something.
“I do,” Kareta said pertly. “Look! I’ll show you!” She dashed off through the trees and then stopped. Eventually, the wagon rolled up to join her.
“Right there,” she said.
Harrier had stopped the team. He looked where she was pointing. All he saw was more trees—and, maybe another mile or so in the distance, Tiercel and Ancaladar, on the ground, waiting for him. That meant that somewhere between where Kareta was standing (probably right where she was standing) and where Tiercel and Ancaladar were, was the Veil that everybody had been talking about for the last several sennights—the thing that kept people like him out of the Elven Lands. But since he was in the Elven Lands right now, it shouldn’t stop him from getting out.
He clucked to the team again, and they started forward.
He tried not to wince as the wagon passed Kareta, or to imagine he felt something. Because he didn’t feel anything, any more than he saw something. He’d been poking half-heartedly at the Three Books whenever he was sure Kareta was out of sight, but he didn’t feel any more like a Wildmage than he had before he’d gotten them. And whether he was one or not, apparently his so-called Wildmagery didn’t extend to sensing Elven magic, because he didn’t notice anything at all, and by the time he reached Ancaladar, he was pretty sure he was on the other side of the Veil. About the only difference he could see was that the forest here looked scruffier than the forest in the Elven Lands, and he wasn’t even sure if he was imagining that. He pulled the wagon to a halt again. “Did you feel anything when you went through?” he asked Tiercel curiously.
“No,” Tiercel said, looking both disappointed and relieved. “You?”
“Not a thing. But I’m hungry now. Let’s eat.”
AFTER THEY ATE, Harrier packed up and then spent almost an hour gathering a good solid load of firewood. He was a little uneasy about wandering around looking for wood at the evening stop, and even though anything that might be prowling around these woods probably wouldn’t come too close to Ancaladar, it was starting to get cold enough that it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be able to keep a good fire burning all night. There was already enough empty space in the storage hampers for Harrier to be able to load a good amount of wood into them before he left. And—Harrier brightened—now that they were out of the Elven Lands, he’d be able to cut trees down for wood, assuming he wanted to, although unseasoned wood didn’t burn particularly well. It was always nice to have the option.
The Enduring Flame Trilogy 002 - The Phoenix Endangered Page 13
