When they’d finished, Brax sat with Phinlera behind the inn, talking together and happy to have her back in his company. The rain had blown south, and a warm sun had emerged to dry out the cobblestones and shrink the remaining puddles. Gavin and Penton joined them an hour later. At Penton’s arrival, Cassi came skipping out of the cottage, her face washed, and her long hair combed and pulled back in a pretty pink ribbon that Brennah had given her. Her green jumper and white blouse had been cleaned and restored to their original condition.
They passed the afternoon talking about happier times and joking lightly. Everyone avoided speaking about current events, hiding their fears of what they all knew still lay ahead. When the sun sank beyond the western horizon and long shadows fell across the courtyard, they headed back into Zambini’s for their last meal in Falderon.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Phinlera said, as they sat in the common room enjoying a warm supper and Pen had left to get them something more to drink. She reached into her leather tunic and withdrew a small bag of coins, which she handed to Brax. “Open it!”
He untied the strings and poured the coins onto his palm.
“Seven crowns!” Phin exclaimed. “That’s two silvers and three coppers apiece. I get the extra for making the trip.” She winked, nudging him playfully with her elbow.
Brax looked at her for a moment.
“For the rover deer! The whole reason I went to Amberdeen, remember?”
“Oh!” He looked down at his hand, remembering the pelt that he, Phin, and their friend Janson had worked on for so long. A few weeks ago, all he could think about was the money they’d earn from the silver-white hide and beautifully curved horns. Now it seemed empty and hollow, and the coins felt cold. Funny, he thought, how life changed so quickly.
“That’s great, Phin.” He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he knew his words were shallow. He looked up at Gavin, who nodded in quiet understanding.
“Your brother helped a lot,” Phinlera went on, still excited. “I was willing to settle for half that, but Pen bartered with an old noble like a seasoned merchant. It was great!” She laughed and returned to her supper.
“You did well,” Brax said, tucking the coins away.
They finished their meal and headed back to the cottage. Zambini stopped by to let them know the patrol was leaving at sunrise. Brennah gave them some fresh muffins for the trip, along with generous quantities of dried meat, bread, cheese, and sausages. They refilled their waterskins from the rain barrel outside the kitchen and packed the rest of their supplies.
Braxton was just setting out his makeshift bed by the fireplace when Cassi came over.
“Your friend’s very beautiful,” she said.
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” He watched Phinlera talking with Brennah.
Cassi giggled. “She gave me a gift. Now I don’t have to be sad anymore.”
“Oh? What was that?”
She covered her mouth shyly with both hands. “She told me you’d ask, but I promised not to tell. I just wanted to thank you for sharing her with me.” She skipped off to the little room Braxton and Gavin had shared, but which had now been claimed by the girls, leaving Brax to finish making his bed and puzzle over her words.
Chapter 14
Braxton, Phin, and Ruskin sat together in the back of the wagon, lined up with the other hopeful travelers waiting to leave Falderon. Penton rode up front with Cassi, guiding the long makeshift reins attached to Obsidian, Cinnamon, and an old mule that had belonged to Cassi’s father.
They’d stopped an hour before sunrise at the back of the column, which now extended from the main gate all the way to the city square. The patrol’s guards strode down the line, inspecting papers, searching belongings, and forcefully removing stowaways discovered among the travelers.
“They’re coming,” Gavin mumbled as he walked around outside with Bear, checking the strappings of the bonnet Ruskin had added to their carriage that gave the wagon a gypsy look.
“Papers!” a guard called out as two men approached, their chainmail clinking as they moved. Penton unfolded the parchment and handed them over. The man started reading, then stopped and looked up.
“Zambini’s?” he asked, and Pen nodded. The guard looked back at the documents. Then he held out his left hand, keeping his eyes on the papers. Penton gave him a small coin purse that Zambini had provided, and the man stuffed it in his pocket without looking up. He handed back the papers, and the clinking of their armor passed by as the guards moved on to the next in line.
“That seemed to go well,” Phinlera said.
Ruskin made a hmph sound, then lay down on his side, facing away from them, and soon began snoring.
A little after sunrise, a horn sounded, followed several minutes afterward by the sudden lurch of their wagon, signaling the patrol’s departure from the mountain city. The ironbound wheels creaked as they rolled along the main cobblestone road from the central plaza. Braxton and Phinlera tried to minimize their jostling, but despite their best efforts, bounced around in the back of the wagon. The movement didn’t seem to bother Ruskin, though, whose sleep, if anything, seemed to deepen with the moving sensation. They continued for several minutes, approaching the walled perimeter and passed through the main gate.
A cold shiver ran down Brax’s spine as they crossed the threshold marking the outer limits of Falderon. A moment later, they were free, and Braxton breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Phinlera, glad to have her with him and to finally be continuing on their journey.
They traveled south for over an hour, climbing the outer edge of the Vale Mountains along the winding road east of the Rolling River. Gavin and Bear joined them in the back of the wagon.
“Pen thinks the captain will keep us moving until noon, before stopping,” Gavin reported.
Ruskin woke up, sat behind Pen, and started asking him questions.
“What’s the setup at night, and how often do the guards patrol the outer perimeter of the camp? Do they spread their tents among the travelers or pitch them together?”
Penton and Phinlera took turns answering, trying to remember as many details as they could from their trip down from Amberdeen. Each added pieces the other had forgotten, building upon their companion’s responses in hopes of providing the dwarf with as much information as possible. In the end, Ruskin seemed pleased and soon began describing ways they might escape, each plan taking advantage of a particular weakness he perceived in the patrol’s defense.
Braxton listened quietly, looking out ahead to where the guards were positioned among the serpentine line. The front of the column was led by the man Pen identified as Breem, sitting proudly atop a large gray horse of a similar breed to Obsidian. He had straight black hair that reached to his shoulders and a long purple cloak with the silver Imperial Lion embroidered at its center that glistened whenever it caught the sun. Behind him, two men rode alongside each other, one holding a banner that matched the symbol on their captain’s cloak. The other had a large curved horn strapped to his back.
Four mounted guards followed these initial three, wearing mail and carrying a shield and a long spear held upright that had a purple pennant near the tip. At various intervals among the travelers, two similarly armed men rode together, occasionally breaking rank to ride up or down the column. Merchants, though, made up the bulk of their group, with families, farmers, and a few other citizens scattered here and there along the line.
They continued climbing south for several more hours. Brax could hear the water’s occasional bubbling coming from somewhere off to their right. Near midday, the horn sounded another deep note, and the guards organized themselves into a defensive position, as the patrol stopped for a brief rest. By nightfall, they had traveled halfway to the river’s source, high up in the Vales, stopping for the evening at a clearing alongside its banks. Campfires soon flickered here and there as merchants and other travelers prepared meals or built fires for the night. Brax and the others ate a warm supper from the fo
od Brennah had provided along with wild mushrooms that Gavin found growing by the water, washed down with ale from a small keg Ruskin had lifted from Zambini’s cellar.
When they’d finished, they took turns walking around the campground, their hoods pulled up and their heads bent low to avoid eye contact with the guards. The site was set up in a rough half-circle formation, with the open end facing the river. Five gray rectangular tents formed the outer perimeter, with the first and last resting on the rocky banks. Large campfires illuminated the spaces between the housings, clearly delineating boundaries for the travelers. The captain’s tent, along with one other, sat in the center of the encampment with the horses picketed at the river. Patrols moved about the outer edge in a steady procession. The remaining throng of more than a hundred farmers, villagers, merchants, and their associated children and livestock were scattered randomly within the protective area, with the wealthiest families and their wagons positioned closest to the middle.
Braxton and Phinlera were just returning for a second time when they passed within earshot of the captain. The sun had set hours earlier, and most of the travelers had already turned in for the night. The guards continued their silent patrol, passing between the fires that limited their vision into the darkness beyond to only a few feet away. Brax glanced at Breem, who was standing outside his tent talking with another man whose back was toward them. The nearby campfire illuminated the side of Breem’s face, accentuating his hooked nose and square jaw as the light danced across his strong features. A thick black mustache hung down past the corners of his mouth, and deep lines reflective of the man’s age and years of service furrowed his brow.
As they continued toward their wagon, Brax noticed the captain becoming increasingly agitated with the other man, raising his hands and gesturing left or right. Breem stepped closer as the conversation turned to arguing. The patrol’s leader was clearly disagreeing with whatever the smaller man was saying, shaking his head as both voices grew louder. Brax and Phin were just getting close enough to have a better view when they heard Breem’s deep voice bellow, “Enough!”
The conversation broke off, and the two men stood facing each other in angry silence. When the second man turned to leave, the light from the fire fell across his face.
Braxton’s heart dropped as he recognized Zacharias.
Chapter 15
“We need to go now!” Brax exclaimed, as he and Phinlera burst into the back of the wagon.
“What’s wrong?” Penton stood up.
“Zacharias is here.” He told them of the argument they had witnessed.
“I thought I saw him standing in the shadows by the gate when we left Falderon,” Gavin commented. “But I wasn’t sure.”
“I think he was watching for me.” Brax remembered the feeling he’d had as they left the city. “I don’t know how, but he knew I was in the column.”
Ruskin swore. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
Penton shook his head. “You won’t make it past the guards. You should stick to the plan and wait until after the midnight change.”
“No time,” the dwarf answered over his shoulder.
“We’ll need a distraction,” Phinlera said, hastily stuffing a few stores into her pack.
Ruskin turned to face them. “This will do.” He held a dark yellow bag in the center of his palm, no bigger than an oversized coin and about twice as thick. He pushed at it with his thumb so the others could see it contained a rough, sand-like substance that appeared to move away in response to the pressure he applied on it. The sack was sewn shut, and it reminded Brax of the small beaded bags they used to sell to children back home during Merchant Tide.
“Just throw this in the fire near the horses—by the tent on the north side.” He handed it to Pen. “It’ll create what we need.” He glanced at Brax and Phin. “Be ready when it does.”
Penton gently bounced the object up and down in his hand.
“Be careful with that,” Ruskin cautioned. “It took me almost your lifetime to make.” He looked at the sack, clearly disappointed at having to give it up.
* * *
Brax, Phin, and Ruskin crouched in the shadow of a merchant’s wagon near the southernmost tent of the guarded perimeter. A partially cloud-covered moon cast a flicker of light across the bubbling river, accentuating the darkness in which they hid.
After a few minutes, Ruskin handed Brax his pack, left their concealment, and walked over to the two guards by the campfire. Brax and Phin watched as the dwarf began conversing with the men. A sudden and loud explosion erupted from the northern end of the encampment and a flash of light lit up the sky. Braxton and Phinlera jumped at the unexpected sound as burning timbers flew in every direction, a few igniting a nearby tent. The eruption spooked the horses, which broke their tethers and bolted through the campground, smashing into tents and making them collapse. Chaos erupted as merchants, families, and guards ran in every direction, a few shouting that they were under attack.
Ruskin reappeared next to Brax and Phin. “Come on!” he yelled above the commotion, leading them back to where the guards were. One lay unconscious on the ground; the other was nowhere to be seen.
“I told you to be ready,” the dwarf snapped over his shoulder. Not waiting for a response, he led them away from the river and into a cluster of nearby boulders. They moved hastily from one clump of rocks to another, before dropping down into a gully and disappearing around a large granite base. Unaccustomed to the mountainous terrain, Brax and Phin stumbled often, losing their footing and sliding down the broken rock. It was impossible to see in the darkness that engulfed them. Even Phinlera with her usually superior vision had trouble, and within minutes, the two of them were hopelessly lost. Ruskin reappeared and guided them away at a fevered pace, distancing themselves from the commotion on the road.
They descended the Vales for over an hour before the dwarf allowed a brief rest. Stopping in a narrow ravine, they hid under the protective cover of a fallen rock shelf that created a natural roof against the occasional light of the moon. Brax tended to his bleeding cuts and rubbed his bruised shins, which reacted painfully when touched. Sweat ran down his back, emphasized by the weight of his heavy pack and causing his shirt to stick to his skin. Used to chasing deer back home in the Oaks, his stamina was well-developed, but he found himself panting from the exertion across the uneven terrain, and from the sheer effort of keeping up with the dwarf’s hectic pace. But at least they’d escaped.
He looked at Phin. Her hair was matted down with perspiration, but her eyes shone brightly with excitement, and she smiled back at him. Even now, unkempt, she looked beautiful, her features barely visible in the dim light of their makeshift cave. But he could tell she was getting winded, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, the frequent stumbling across the loose mountainous rock taking its toll. But she wouldn’t complain. She never did. Considering herself equally capable, she’d press on. He found her boundless energy and determination to keep up with him infectious.
Ruskin, by contrast, wasn’t even perspiring. His breathing was calm, even slightly relaxed, and he barely drank from his waterskin when they stopped. Brax knew this was the dwarf’s domain and that he loved being out in the rocky terrain and open air; he could probably continue for days without tiring.
“We wouldn’ta had to run for it if ya’d been paying attention,” he commented as they sat together in the dark.
“We were a bit surprised by that explosion,” Phinlera said defensively.
“You could’ve warned us,” Brax added. “What was that thing you gave Pen, anyway?”
Ruskin grinned. “An ancient dwarven secret. I hate having lost it,” he said more seriously, “but it served us well.”
They turned northeast and continued for most of the night, pausing infrequently for a brief drink or to catch their breath. Ruskin paced about whenever they stopped. Occasionally he’d leave them to rest for a while and silently disappear into the night, like a wolf s
lipping away into the darkness, only to materialize again out of the deeper shadows when they’d regained their strength, leading them on.
It was during one of these resting periods that Braxton remembered what Cassi had said.
He sat down next to Phinlera. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What did you give Cassi?”
She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Back at Zambini’s, the night before we left.”
“I didn’t give her anything.”
“You must’ve,” he pressed. “And she seemed pretty excited about it too.”
“No, nothing. Are you sure she wasn’t talking about Brennah?”
“Pretty sure.” He relayed the conversation.
“Well, I didn’t give her anything,” Phin repeated, tying her hair back.
Brax looked questioningly at her. What could she have possibly given Cassi that she’d want to keep secret? He mulled it over for several minutes, growing more and more frustrated at her refusal to admit she’d given something to the young girl. He was about to confront her again when Serene’s calming voice entered his thoughts.
The gift, child, was from me.
He was stunned. He was so sure Cassi had meant Phinlera. He started to ask Serene if he’d understood her correctly when Ruskin returned. Brax followed behind the other two, thinking over Serene’s words as he trudged through the gloomy darkness, his surroundings reflective of his mood. It suddenly occurred to him that if Cassi had meant Serene, she must’ve seen her.
But how could that be? he thought, perplexed. How could she have possibly seen Serene?
He called out to her.
Put it out of your thoughts, child, she said firmly. It is not of your concern, and you need not ask of it again. She pulled away, and he could feel her energy withdrawing.
For a long time, he thought about what it meant, despite Serene’s advice to let it go. He couldn’t understand how Cassi could have seen or spoken with the sword’s master, or why Serene wouldn’t talk to him about it now. He wished he could see the young girl again—he’d have much to ask her. Finally, accepting he wasn’t going to get any answers, he began thinking instead of his mom and Arbor Loren. He knew they wouldn’t reach the elves tomorrow, their ninth day since leaving Oak Haven. Serene had said she was with his mom, a thought that relieved much of his fear. He only hoped it would be enough. He clutched at her pendant under his shirt, drawing comfort from the wooden carving pressed against his chest. This riddle he understood, he thought. This one he could help answer.
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 9
