“Yes, I’m absolutely sure of it, and I’m also sure that someone will be waiting for us in the ravines.”
Elijah knew not to question Mica. He had already seen many of her premonitions come true. There was no reason to believe that this one would not be true. He trusted her judgment. “What do you propose we do?”
Mica thought about it for a while. “If they have been watching us they will know that we’ve camped for the night. They will not be expecting us until the morning. We will go through the ravine tonight.”
“It might just work,” replied Elijah.
“Everyone sleep, at midnight we move out.”
No one spoke as they saddled up. The sky was pitch-black. There was no moon as the clouds had gathered. It could be the sign of an impending storm.
“From now on there will be no talking and as we reach the ravine everyone will wrap some cloth on the hooves of their horses,” said Mica, leading them down onto the road with the campfire still blazing behind them. Mica had made sure the fire was topped up just in case they were being watched.
Moving at a steady pace Yost pointed out the start of the ravine as he drew up beside Mica. “In an hour we will be in the centre of the ravine, if bandits are about that is where they will be,” he whispered.
Mica nodded to him and urged her horse on at a quicker pace. They had to be through the ravine before dawn. The cold night began to bite into Mica’s fingers as she held the reins, urging the horse on. Her toes in her boots felt numb. When they reached Grada she would have to buy gloves and extra clothing for them all. She looked to the darkened sky, the wind was picking up. Good, it would help muffle any noise as they pass through the ravine.
Yost who was still riding with Mica slowed his horse. “The main part of the canyon is up ahead, we should muffle the horse’s hooves now.”
Mica stopped, dismounted and began wrapping her horse’s hooves with spare clothes from her pack. This she knew would probably ruin them. The others followed suit, even Yost.
“We will lead the horses through,” said Mica, moving off. Gordy and Adar brought up the rear.
The cliffs began to loom over them, dark and threatening. Along the edges of the cliffs either side of them was sloping ground that held large boulders and patches of trees, ideal places to hide. They were bunched up like a school of fish, none of them wanted to be left out in the open to maybe be the first taken by an arrow. Mica had removed her bow and notched an arrow while tying the reins of her horse to her belt, she noticed that Gordy had done the same.
It became even darker as they as they entered the canyon proper. Yost limped along beside Mica. She whispered to him, “How long will it take us to pass through and be out of danger?”
“Two hours at least,” he replied.
Mica did not reply. She didn’t want to risk any more noise than was necessary. The muffled hooves on the horses made virtually no sound at all. With a little bit of luck they would make it through without the bandits knowing.
They had probably been travelling for an hour when Mica, peering into the night ahead of her, detected movement. She called a halt and then indicated to the others that she was going forward to check on what she had thought she had seen. Carefully, with each foot placed softly in front her, she tested the ground before she put her weight to it. She crept forward with the bow half drawn. It would take her a mere second to complete the draw, aim and let the arrow fly.
She came to a huge rounded boulder and stopped to listen. She heard scuffling, it sounded like clothing brushing against rock. Drawing the bow back to its full length she edged around the huge stone. The bandit was standing up rubbing the itch in his back up against the rock. That was the sound she had heard. He was dressed in dark brown clothing with a red scarf wrapped around his neck head and face, which only left a slit for his eyes. The gap hid the bandit from being seen from the road but he could clearly see the road from where he stood. He must have walked out past the edge of the rock and that was what Mica had seen.
In that instant, as she stepped into the open, the bandit saw her and reached for the horn hanging at his side. Mica let the arrow go. It was a mere ten feet. The arrow buried itself deep into his chest with a resounding thud, but still he continued to raise the horn, to try and put it to his lips to warn his companions of their approach. Dropping the bow, Mica drew her sword and ran to the bandit. The razor sharp edge sliced through the bone of the man’s wrist. The hand, still holding the horn fell to the ground. Blood spurted from his wrist. The eyes in the slit stared at her in agony and finality as he slowly slid onto the ground against the rock he had been leaning on.
Mica picked up the bow and retreated to where the others were waiting, Elijah met her. She whispered to him. “There was a guard with a horn.”
“Then we must go quietly,” he said, in a whispered.
Knowing they had a guard who would signal them at the approach of someone, the rest of the bandits were more than likely sleeping soundly, as must have been the case, for as they continued they saw no one.
A grey, mustard dawn began to filter through a gap in the clouds as they came to the end of the ravine. Removing the now ragged clothing from the horse’s hooves and discarding them, they mounted up.
The bandit leader was fuming. Twice this woman had bettered him, now he would have to enter the land of Manutes to find her. That in it itself created more risk, more danger. He turned to one of his men who was a Manute.
“Follow them, Rico. It’s obvious they are heading to Grada. We will take the route over Henderson’s Pass and meet you at the crossroads on the other side of town.”
Chester looked at the bandit leader with questioning eyes, for he knew that Henderson’s Pass was a very narrow trail perched on the side of a cliff, it was dangerous and would be more so if it snowed. Also, they would be entering the land of the Manutes illegally and if they were apprehended they would be slain.
“Are you scared, Chester? asked the bandit leader with a smirk on his face.
“It will take us three days to negotiate the pass, we could lose them.”
“Rico will follow them, or find out where they’re going. He has friends who will help us for some coin. The tinker alone will carry a considerable sum of money as he did well in Tursy. Then of course there is the small matter of the woman. Who would not want to have her, we will sate our desires, our revenge and cover our costs.”
The thought of having the woman, of taking out his revenge by ravishing her brought a smile to Chester’s face. All the dangers were suddenly forgotten.
“Another three hours and we will be at the gates of Grada,” said Yost.
“Then let’s waste no time,” uttered Mica as she dug her heels into the horse’s flanks.”
Later as they slowed the horses, Elijah had time to admire the beauty of the landscape. The road they were travelling on had been dug into the side of the bank. It was well made, flat, and covered in a white gravel. On the right was a lake, dull and grey beneath the overcast sky. Along the edge in the narrow space between lake and road were a sprinkling of houses and boathouses. They were all built the same, with whitish-grey stone foundations and walls that continued up to about halfway where there were wide silver-grey boards. Each roof was covered in slate and aged with moss; some grass even grew on them. Smoke drifted up from some of the stone, soot covered chimney openings. Pale faces stared out at them from some of the windows. On the left was a high mountain, craggy and treeless. Ahead, he could see the snow covered spires of the mountain peaks; the land of the Manutes.
They continued on at a good pace, the valley began to narrow and the mountains became closer, the cliffs slowly closing in on them. Elijah could understand why the king had never defeated the Manutes, the country was suited to defense, a few well-placed soldiers could keep an army at bay for a long time.
“It’s not far now, said Yost. “You can already see the battlements above the hill.”
Mica could indeed see the stone wall
rising into the sky. Rounding a bend in the road, the gates and the wall came into view. It was formidable obstruction. The wall was about forty feet high and was probably about twenty-feet thick at its base. To scale this wall would be suicidal. The double wooden gates that were closed looked like the weakest point. A fire or a battering ram could break it down with time, but then any attacker would have to take enfilading fire from two wooden ramps that protruded from the walls.
“Let me speak,” said Yost as he approached the gate.
“Yost, is that you?” yelled a burly, black-bearded guard from the wall dressed in a coat of thick off-white fur.
“Yes, Tang, it is I,” he replied in an equally loud voice.
“You travel with strangers, Yost.”
“With good reason, Tang, they bring news from the lowlands, news that must reach Santomine.”
“This had better be good, Yost, or I will skin you alive.”
Yost turned to the others. “Tang is all right, he is like a big bear, lovable but fearsome. He is my uncle.”
“Open the gates,” yelled Tang.
As the gates slowly creaked open Gordy peered inside, expecting it to be open and clear, envisaging that an army could easily break through the gate and assault the town, but it was not so. Inside were two narrow lanes surrounded by stone walls and more gates at the end. Any army bursting through the first gate would be funneled into the two narrow lanes and then destroyed from above. It was a trap of deadly proportions.
“And I thought it was just a wall,” said Gabriel, as he too realised the consequences of someone breaking through the gate.
“Very clever,” added Mica.
Yost led them into the lane on the left. Soldiers dressed the same as Tang peered down at them with arrows notched. The second gate opened and the town beyond could be seen. Tang stood there waiting for them. A squad of ten men armed with spears stood behind him. He was taking no chances.
Tang studied the group. There were two elderly men, a young man and a woman who rode together, a couple he deduced; a big man with a long staff tied to his back and a man dressed in green. Finally, his eyes turned back to the young woman riding beside Yost. She wore high, brown leather boots, dark trousers and a light tan and white fur coat made from goat skin. Over this she wore a brown cape. She was wearing a sword and a dagger. Her hair was short, her skin olive and her dark eyes piercing.
This is a woman to be admired, he thought. “So, what is this news you bring, Yost,” he enquired in a deep throaty voice.
“I think Mica here can explain it better than I.”
Tang shifted his eyes to the young woman.
“A Shadow Walker has risen from the fields of Tursy,” said Mica, keeping it simple.
Tang moved his eyes back to Yost, who shrugged his shoulders.
“You have seen this Shadow Walker?”
“Yes, it was he who told me that I should go to Santomine.”
“You want to go to Santomine?”
“Yes.”
Tang’s thoughts were divided, as far as he knew there were no Shadow Walkers alive today, but if this woman spoke the truth then it would be news that may indeed be welcome at Santomine. “You will come with me,” he said pointing to Mica. “Yost, take the rest of these people to the boarding house.”
Mica nodded to the others. “I will join you as soon as I can.”
Climbing down from her horse she handed the reins to Yost who led the others away. Mica followed Tang as he strode off, the soldiers falling in behind. Her instincts, or maybe it was the Sight, told her she had nothing to fear, there was no danger here. “Where are we going?”
“To see Captain Jago, he’ll be none too pleased at the intrusion. He is holding a banquet for some of his more prestigious colleagues.”
Tang led her along the street past several stone buildings. Some of the men and women they passed stared at Mica. They came to a tall building made of stone, with grey moss covered tiles on the roof. There were four guards, two either side of the wide doorway that stood open.
Tang climbed the stairs. Two of the guards crossed their spears blocking his way. “State your reason for entering,” one of them demanded.
“I have a stranger here from the lowlands, she brings news that the Captain should hear.”
The guard’s eyes moved away from Tang and peered at Mica for a little longer than was necessary. “What is this news?”
“A Shadow Walker has risen.”
“You joke of course?”
“I’m only delivering the message, whether it is a joke or has some substance is for Captain Jago to decide,” said Tang, putting the pressure back on the guard.
“Wait here, he will not be pleased at being disturbed,” said the guard lowering his spear and retreating into the building. One of the other guards stepped up into his place.
“Do you have any evidence to support your claim?” asked Tang, turning to Mica.
“It can all be substantiated. You only need to send someone to Darfor. There they will learn the truth and much more, I fear.”
For some reason Tang believed this young woman, he also sensed the warning in her words. He could not help but pass his eyes over her. She was incredibly beautiful and wore a sword like she was born to it. Her hand rested on its leather bound handle, as it had all the time they had been walking.
The soldier waited nervously in the banquet room, one did not just announce oneself to the captain at a moment like this. One waited until he was ready. There were twelve people seated at the huge elongated table, it could hold twice that number. There was the captain, round faced and bald headed, both of which were already shining with a steady glow, much like a ripe cherry. He had obviously consumed a fair amount of wine. His wife, also round faced, had straight dark hair down to her shoulders. She always commanded the conversation at the dinner table, as she was an infernal chatterbox. Two of the captain’s sergeants, his favourites, also sat at the table with their wives, along with two merchants and their partners. Then there was the local priest, a young man who sadly lacked any real wisdom. He sat with an older man, another priest that the guard did not know.
The servants cleared away dinner plates, the captain wiped his lips with a napkin and took hold of a glass and sipped at his yellow tinted wine, his eyes peering over the top of the glass at the guard as if seeing him for the first time. “What is it?” he asked with some irritation.
“Sir, a young woman, a stranger has just arrived from the lowlands. She claims that a Shadow Walker has risen.”
“Preposterous,” exclaimed the captain, “There are no Shadow Walkers. They are just legends from the past.”
“Maybe the storytellers have been at work again, my dear,” said the captain’s wife.
“It is blasphemy,” cried the young beardless priest.
“What else did she say?” demanded the captain, placing his wine glass back down on the table.
“Nothing, sir.”
One of the sergeants spoke up, a solid man named Borden. “I think it is a rather tantalising rumour. A shadow Walker has risen. It is enough to strike fear into everyone’s hearts, to bring back all those stories from so long ago. Speaking for myself, I’m curious and would like to hear more.”
The young priest spoke again. “Sir, she is obviously lying, but for what reason I do not know.”
“Shannon,” for that was the young priest’s name, “you should not be so quick to judge. I think the sergeant’s idea has merit. We should find out more,” said the older, grey-bearded priest.
“I suggest we finish our dessert and then we will talk with this woman.”
“A wise decision, Captain,” said the old priest.
The captain was not sure if the priest was talking about the dessert or the woman. “Have the young woman taken to the meeting room.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the guard, bowing and leaving the room backwards.
The guard returned. Tang and Mica were hustled into a small room off the c
orridor. It was cold and dark with bare, grey stone walls and was filled with pew like seats reminding Mica of a church. The guard lit several candles on a simple wooden table with three chairs, situated at the head of the room.
“Might as well take a seat, Captain Jago has a habit of making people wait,” said Tang, easing his bulky frame into one of the pews and adjusting his sword so that it was within easy reach. Mica sat down in another pew a good distance away, keeping space between her and Tang, her natural instincts to be careful kicking in.
It was a good half hour later when four men filed into the room. Two of them were priests each wearing a rustic-brown robe and a small silver cross on a chain hanging around their necks. Tang immediately rose and stood to attention. He glared at Mica who rose slowly and then slouched on one leg as the men made their way to the table.
Mica watched them, the bald headed well-dressed man, obviously the captain, sat down in one of the wooden chairs, the others stood behind him. All eyes were on her.
“I presume you are the young woman who claims that a Shadow Walker has risen?” asked Jago.
“Yes,” replied Mica.
“Can you elaborate some more, give us something that may lead us to believe what you say is true?”
“I can only tell you what I know, whether you believe me or not is up to you. But I can assure you that time will prove me right on this matter.”
“Why have you come to the land of the Manutes with this news?”
“Because the Shadow Walker himself told me to go to Santomine.”
“He told you to go to Santomine?” asked the captain with some surprise. “I suppose you know that is forbidden, no one goes to Santomine unless they have a valid reason; even then the green scarves might turn you back, might slay you.”
Sergeant Borden had so far said nothing as he appraised this young woman before him. Besides being incredibly beautiful, she stood in front of them with some arrogance, her hand resting on her sword and the dark eyes reflecting an impatient glint. This woman was a warrior, had grown up under someone’s tuition. She was not afraid of them.
The Orphan and the Shadow Walker Page 18
