“We lucky, find shoes.” The slaver’s broken speech was a whisper. “Captain tell me wait here, catch you, revenge. Take you, take girl.”
Aedan, unable to move or shout, could do nothing but stare. Kalry was nursing her father who rested against a log, massaging his ankles. He drained the mug of water and handed it back to her with what looked like a request for more. She limped back towards the skins and that was when it happened.
The shadows all but hid the stealthy form that darted out, grabbed her from behind, clamped her mouth, and carried her back into the darkness. Aedan thrashed, but he may as well have fought against the beams of a cattle crush. Dresbourn had not seen; he was too concerned with his welts. Nobody else had noticed.
The Lekran grunted his satisfaction and shifted his grip as he began to turn back into the forest. Aedan felt a finger pressing against his teeth; it was all the invitation that was needed. He opened his mouth, the finger slipped inside, and he bit down like a mole. With a yell the man snatched his hand away and Aedan shot into the clearing, screaming, “He took Kalry, he took Kalry! After him!”
A few puzzled expressions and bewildered glances were all he received. He ran over to where Dresbourn reclined and pointed desperately into the shadows, still shouting.
“Everyone is fine,” Lanor said, misunderstanding him and gripping his arm. “But where have you been? Emroy gave you the simple task of marking trees and you only did half the job.”
Aedan ignored him. “In here, we must go now or we’ll lose her.”
“She’s with us, you impertinent little fool!” Dresbourn snapped. “She just went to fetch water. I would have seen if –”
“Where Dresbourn? I don’t see her,” said Nulty as he came trotting up. “I think it would be wise to listen to Aedan this time.”
“Will someone remove this annoying man before I –” Dresbourn began.
“Listen to him!” Nulty roared. A shocked silence settled over the scene. Even Dresbourn stared open-mouthed.
“He’s right,” Lanor said, looking around him. “Kalry is not here.” Several voices called her name and when there was no response, Lanor’s voice was hard.
“Aedan, you are the only one who saw. Point the way. Five with us. Murron, you remain and take charge. Set up a perimeter for the evening and return to Badgerfields at first light. Stay together.”
Lanor, Nulty and another four men followed as Aedan led the way into the shadows. Dresbourn came after them, demanding forcefully that Aedan be sent back before he could ruin their chances.
Lanor’s words were swift and sharp. “Sir Dresbourn,” he said. “Fall in silently or return to camp. But if you raise your voice again I will have you bound and gagged.”
Dresbourn fell back, trailing at a distance.
Aedan pressed forward into the shadows. After about fifty paces Lanor whispered, “How do you know where you are going?”
“I don’t,” Aedan replied, whispering. “I’m getting us away from the noise of the people so we can listen.”
He was worried Lanor might want to take the lead after this admission, so he moved quickly ahead. In spite of his age, he was the only one who had been trained by a forester, and this was a forest he knew well. From the snapping and crunching behind, it was clear that none of the men even knew how to walk when on the hunt. After the camp noises had dwindled to nothing, Aedan stopped and whispered.
“There are at least two of them. We need to listen until we know how many and where.” Then he repeated something his father had often told him. “Don’t talk when you hear something. Keep listening. Be patient and very quiet.”
Aedan caught the look on the sheriff’s face. The man was clearly surprised at what he was hearing; it appeared to be causing some shift in his thoughts.
They waited.
There were many forest noises. A fruit bat pinged, crickets creaked, frogs belched, a forest owl hooted. Nearby, a shrew that had been waiting in fearful silence began to gnaw.
As he drank in the noises, immersing himself in the surroundings and filtering out the distractions, a part of Aedan’s thoughts turned back to what Sheriff Lanor had said earlier. Emroy must have seen the opportunity to win a name for himself and taken it. The thought was dismissed as swiftly as it took shape. It was a gnat compared to what he now faced.
Crack. Some distance off to the right.
Lanor tapped his shoulder, but Aedan shook his head. The direction was wrong. He guessed that it was the second man trying to join up with Quin.
A heavy crunch sounded from the same direction.
They waited.
It was so quiet that Aedan wasn’t sure at first, but then it repeated – the sharp growl, like the teeth of brambles as they pull from clothing.
Aedan spoke quickly in a whisper, “Quin is about a hundred yards ahead, to the left. One of his men is joining him from the right. I think they are heading west.
“Lead the way,” Lanor said. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”
Lanor’s respect was not easily earned and Aedan felt a strange warmth in his chest. His eyes had recovered from the glare of the fire and now welcomed the sparse needles of moonlight. He threaded a course between the trees, keeping away from brambles and the skeletons of dry branches that would defeat any attempt at stealth. They moved at a good pace with little noise. Even Nulty had contrived to hold his weapons close and tame the metallic cacophony.
The ground began to slope downhill. Aedan realised with a sudden rush of panic where they were heading and increased the pace. One of the men at the back tripped over some unseen object and fell onto the man in front of him. They came to ground heavily. The thump and snap of twigs would be unmistakable. Aedan stopped. They listened. Apart from the forest sounds there was no noise. Then branches cracked and rapid steps echoed through the night.
“They are making a dash for the river,” Aedan said. “Hurry!”
Stealth was abandoned and they charged forward, tearing through thorns and creepers in a headlong plunge down the slope. This time Lanor could not keep up. Aedan flew over the ground at a speed that would have been reckless even in daylight. Several times he tripped and once he caught a branch across the neck, but he rolled to his feet and pushed on. He knew he was leaving the rest behind, but they would find him again at the river bank. He had a desperate fear that boats were already being launched.
Stark moonlight poured down into the valley and revealed his small form as he leapt out between clusters of ferns onto boulders. The river bent away upstream and he could see nothing but rocks. Downstream, all was still. But then the shapes of two canoes emerged from cover a hundred yards from him. He bounded over the tops of boulders, but by the time he reached the spot, the canoes were well into the river and sliding away.
“They would have needed more than two,” he said to himself, and raced up to the trees where he found several more canoes. They were light, the kind that could be borne along trails between men, so he was able to drag one to the river. He launched it, but dark water welled up from a splintered gash in the hull. Dismay welled up too, threatening to choke him. He ran back to the other canoes and searched. They had all been staved in.
“Aedan,” Lanor called, scrambling over the boulders, his gasping men in hot pursuit. “Where are they?”
Aedan pointed, unable to speak.
The sheriff looked at the fast-flowing river and then his eyes dropped to the ruined hulls that ended the pursuit. “You did well,” he said, putting his hand on Aedan’s shoulder.
But Aedan was not listening. “We can cross,” he managed. “We can use clothes to plug the holes. We just need to get to the other side. The ground is open there and we can outrun them if we go over the spur.”
Lanor followed the direction of Aedan’s arm, and turned back to look over the canoes.
“Maybe, just maybe,” he said. Then he straightened up. “Each man find a boat that will get you across. If you can’t swim I suggest you remain here and wai
t for us.”
They dragged canoes to the water, but after testing them, all except Lanor and Nulty drew back. Aedan had stuffed his jacket into a punctured hull and was already paddling. Lanor and Nulty followed. The current was swift and carried them downstream faster than they had expected. Aedan made it most of the way before he had to jump into the shallows and wade. Lanor was heavier, but he rowed more powerfully and made a similar landing. Nulty was as heavy as he looked, and though he made a courageous effort, thrashing about him with the oar, he was in the middle of the current when forced to abandon the sinking canoe and swim for his life. Fortunately he had remembered to throw off the chain mail and heavier weapons, so he was not dragged straight down to a watery death. Aedan and Lanor jogged along with the current until the storekeeper was able to reach the ground and fight his way to the shore.
“Are you able to run?” Lanor asked, his voice betraying a touch of annoyance.
“Quite,” Nulty spluttered, “Yes, quite able.” He shook off the excess water and pushed in front of the sheriff at a jog.
The hill was murderous, partly due to the steepness and mostly due to the urgency. Lanor, who had perhaps expected to be cracking a whip at Nulty, found himself wheezing and straining at the back. That a small boy and a man so round and mild could leave the sheriff behind was not something anyone would have expected. Lanor was a fearsome man, but the rage in Aedan’s face and the dogged resolve in Nulty’s made the sheriff seem the mild one.
They crested the hill and were faced with another. Lanor groaned as the others pushed on. All three were blowing hard. But the burning in Aedan’s chest and the agony in his thighs were nothing compared to the panic in his heart.
What had Nulty said? Stay with her, Aedan. There had been a deep worry in the storekeeper’s eyes back then, and as Aedan turned now, he caught a look of stark dread. He began to whine under every expelled breath and tore at the ground beneath him with hands and feet, surging upwards.
He scrambled over the shoulder of the hill where the ground levelled. Without a word, Aedan broke into a steady run, Nulty and Lanor following close behind. The dark forest was behind them now and only isolated stands of small trees speckled the hilltop. Long grass was all they had to contend with as their feet drummed towards the far end of the spur where the river turned back.
A shriek sounded in the night and a herd of forest gazelle bounded away in high, hanging leaps. Gradually the slope began to drop as Aedan passed the watershed. He lengthened his stride, approaching the second valley.
Something warned him that the drop ahead was more than a slope, and it was fortunate for him that he slowed down, for his last stride carried him to the edge, not of a bank, but of a cliff. He peered over the lip as the sheriff drew up beside him.
Deep craggy lines scarred a face that plummeted a hideous distance to the churning current beneath. The cliff extended up the river, to the left. But to the right, where the river bent away, the cliff did not bend; it continued towards the forest, effectively cutting off any descent. They could go no further. The only way to reach the river was to head back all the miles they had just run.
Nulty arrived, his boots striking the rocks heavily. He collapsed and crawled to the edge where he stared with round eyes and open mouth at the horrible drop. All were wheezing with the desperate effort at breathing. Aedan coughed and something salty and sticky filled his mouth.
“Even if possible, it would take us till morning to climb down there,” said Lanor, when he was able to speak, “and the chance of surviving a jump like this has got to be very small.”
“It … cannot …,” Nulty gasped, in snatches, “cannot … cannot be …”
Aedan stared in disbelief at the empty river churning far below. Lanor was looking at him. Once the desperation had left his breathing, the sheriff spoke.
“It was all your plan, Aedan, wasn’t it? Burning the barn, marking the trail, setting the tree alight to guide us?”
Aedan nodded but he was still looking at the river.
“Why did you leave us to get lost?”
“To drug their food, so they wouldn’t be able to fight.”
Realisation flooded Lanor’s face and he stared anew at the young boy before him.
“They always said you had a commander’s brain in a boy’s head. I just took it for farm stories, but I see now that there was no exaggeration. The town will learn of this. And Emroy will learn the price of lying to the sheriff, regardless of who his father thinks he is.”
Aedan stiffened, eyes locked on a small shape that drifted from the shadow of the cliff.
“Kalry!” he bellowed with all the force of his young voice.
“Aedan! Aedan!” Her cry echoed up the rocks and they saw the young girl stand in the front of the canoe. Quin was fast with his oar and struck her across the back, dropping her to her knees. Aedan screamed.
Then he went very still.
He looked around, grabbed a fist-sized rock, and tossed it gently over the edge. It fell and fell, hanging in the air far too long. And when it struck the water, it barely cleared the boulders. He watched the movement of the canoe and counted out the same time the rock had taken to drop. He had done this often over the Brockle when the targets had been drifting leaves. He knew now how far the canoe would move during the fall, and using that distance, he marked a point upstream from him.
“Can I use this?” he asked, pointing to a small war hammer that Nulty still carried on his belt.”
Nulty unhooked the weapon and handed it over.
“From this height, you have as much chance of hitting her as him,” Lanor objected.
“I’m not going to throw it from here.” Aedan’s voice was shaking now.
Both men looked at him, confused.
“You said our chance might be small,” he said to Lanor, “but what about her? I promised not to abandon her, and I won’t.” He looked at the river. The canoe was approaching the mark.
“No Aedan,” Lanor said, stepping forward and reaching out with a big hand. “You won’t make it. I won’t let you –”
But Aedan was too quick for him. With a deep breath, he clenched his jaw, slipped around Lanor and sprinted at the edge. Moonlight made it more difficult to be completely sure-footed over the broken ground. A mistake now would rob him of the speed he needed to carry him over the rocks. Instinct dug its claws in and willed him to stop. He felt sick. He didn’t want to do this. But he drove himself on. Fear surged as the edge rushed forward. He placed his final step. His stomach twisted.
Then he leapt.
The chasm opened its jaws beneath him. Every muscle locked and his throat clamped shut. Wind began to thrum and then scream in his ears as he fell. He glimpsed features in the rock face rushing up past him – deep, craggy lines and hard shapes – but his eyes were fixed on the canoe. It was as though everything slowed down and he saw in strangely vivid detail. Though his mind was operating on the most primitive level, the impressions were being etched with the weight and depth of runes on an ancient lintel.
Kalry was in the front of the canoe, crouched on her knees, staring up at him. There was no relief in her eyes, only fear – no, horror at what he was doing. He knew she would never have wanted rescue at this price, just as surely as he could not have withheld it. They had never actually spoken of what they meant to each other, but they spoke it now, with an eloquence beyond the reach of words.
Then Aedan fixed his eyes on Quin. The man was staring open-mouthed at the impossible spectacle. Aedan raised the hammer above his head. At first he thought he had misjudged, but realised now that he would land close to the canoe, almost in it.
Another rush of fear almost caused him to abandon the throw and prepare for impact, but he pushed it aside, took aim, and hurled the hammer with all the strength remaining in his body. The throw caused him to turn. He would not land well. He forgot about Quin, even Kalry, as he shrank into a ball and tensed.
An explosion of pain shook him. Water as hard as
rock. Then he felt no more as all was swallowed in dark silence.
The dreams were confusing, a distorted jumble of nightmarish pain, tender words, and familiar voices. Sometimes it was his parents, Clauman and Nessa, that he sensed, sometimes others. Sometimes night, sometimes day. Thomas’s voice was there too at the edge of his tangled musings as he wandered, lost within his own mind. Once he recognised Dresbourn’s voice and then his father’s raised in anger – even in his dream world he crimped up and braced himself. Sometimes the dreams seemed to be reality, and the taste of food passed through his thoughts more than once.
He began to drift back and relive the events of those days – the danger, the hope, the falseness and the loyalty. Then that final scene played out before him again, and as he hit the water he sat up in his bed with sweat beading his forehead.
Searing lances shot through his body. Arms, legs, back – they all felt wrong. He collapsed into the mattress with a shudder of agony.
His mother was beside him in an instant. She cried, clutching his hand as if trying to keep him from escaping again, but his vision dimmed and he drifted off.
When he awoke, she was ready with soup which he was made to drink before she would listen to a word. When he had swallowed all he could, he asked in a cracked whisper, “Kalry?”
“Rest, Aedan,” she said and looked away.
Aedan wanted to press but did not have the strength. He tried to ask again the following day but was met with the same response.
As consciousness returned, so the pain increased and his slumber became fitful. When he was able to lift his head, he discovered that one arm and both his legs were bound and splinted. They looked thinner than they should have been. The angle of the sun from his window told him that spring was gone. Weeks, even months must have passed.
He awoke one morning to see his father sitting on the end of the bed.
“Where is Kalry?” Aedan asked.
“That’s not why I am here,” his father replied. His face was expressionless, apart from its native cast of stern dissatisfaction. “Dresbourn received a letter two days ago and what it contains could destroy us. He had copies made, posted them all over the town, and I took one. I need you to listen and then answer some questions.” He began to read.
Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) Page 9
