The Forlorn

by Dave Freer

  The race of brown water from the storms in the hills spewed out of the mouth and tangled and frothed with the breakers. The ferry lines hung down, their cut ends dangling and dripping as a coarse mist of raindrops settled on them.

  Beywulf sighed. "We've a fine choice. Bloody sharks in that riptide," he pointed to the black shapes visible in a cresting wave, "or going inland and having crocodiles and quicksand in the mangrove swamps."

  Cap looked over his shoulder, his eagle eyes squinting into the mizzle. "There is one choice you left out." He pointed. "We might just end up dying right here." In the grayness they could just make out the advancing horsemen. At least two hundred of them in military array across the entire sand spit. "Too many for some petty bandits . . . and too well disciplined. Probably some local baron bent on raising revenues the easy way. Let me try and talk our way out of it."

  But as they rode closer it became obvious that it was no local baron. The stiff black horsehair crests on the helmet of the Tyn States Cuirassiers bristled with raindrops. Beside him Keilin heard Kim's sharp intake of breath as a tall man with a finely-carved bloodless face rode out of their midst. His voice was dry, sardonic. "Why," asked the self-proclaimed Emperor, "do you persist in making me travel about in the rain, Princess?"

  CHAPTER 10

  Keilin looked about, startled. He could only be referring to Leyla, surely. Kim was just a thief . . . wasn't she? One look at her white, frightened face was sufficient to convince him otherwise. "Princess Shael. Hadn't you better induce your lowborn companions to lower their weapons?"

  "Why?" she burst out. "Why don't you just leave me alone? What are you going to do with me this time? Give me to another pervert to torture, or just hand me over to the Morkth?"

  He waved a languid hand. "That is no way for a future Empress to talk. All that is almost past."

  "Empress?! After what you did to me!"

  He shrugged. "Part of the exigencies of seizing power, my dear. You, after all, should know that these little excesses are necessary. But now you will be restored to power, influence and comfort. No more struggling to survive with a group of vagabond . . . jewel thieves. Amphir's arm is long, but not long enough to take anything from a reigning Empress."

  Keilin turned to watch her, despite the fact that to do so made the rain trickle off his cape and down his back. He saw how her eyes narrowed, and the expression in them changed from fear to challenge. It was not reflected in her voice however. That was cool. "Empress . . . and who, pray, is to be the Emperor?"

  Deshin smiled. It was a humorless movement of the lips. "Power games again, Princess. You haven't changed despite all this time of consorting with lower orders. I wonder what use they found for you in their party? You weren't trained to cook, so I must presume you paid your way on your back. We are the Emperor of Tynia."

  She ignored the innuendo, and replied with a lifted eyebrow. "I see . . . Emperor. And how does your dear Saril feel about this . . . marriage?"

  The humorless smile was wiped away. "My . . . but we are well informed. I'm afraid our marriage will be merely a matter of appearances, Princess. The marriage, however, will put a stop to these ugly little rumors . . . especially when it is blessed with an heir."

  "From you! I'd rather die!"

  He looked disdainfully at her. "I share your sentiments exactly. No, you would have to find yourself a more . . . willing participant. Select one of these, if you like. I will make no attempt to interfere in your . . . amusements, as long as you are discreet in your use and disposal of them." He paused. "On second thought . . . perhaps you'd better leave disposal to me. You're inclined to be too flamboyant. Killings like the one you carried out on Lord Blis get talked about. What on earth was the toxin you used?"

  "Maybe you'll find out. Maybe you should just leave me alone." Shael's voice was more than a little dangerous.

  "I've taken steps to prevent any little assassination plans you may have. You see, if I die, a certain somebody is going to be very upset. And he has more experience at killing than you do. He's also," and the thin lips were licked, "very skilled at pain. As for leaving you alone, I'm afraid that won't be practical. You either come with me alive, as my bride-to-be, or you come along as a head on a pole," Deshin said, his voice cold.

  Shael's quick mind needed no more prompting. "You need me. You need me for a valid claim on Arlinn."

  "Very astute," said Deshin, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps I underrated your intelligence. But I'll settle for your head if need be. I have sufficient witnesses who will swear the ceremony took place first."

  "At this point I think I should intervene." Cap spoke calmly. There was almost a trace of amusement in his voice.

  Deshin raised his chin, and attempted to look down his nose at someone who was taller than himself. "Don't interrupt your betters, carrion."

  There was a small snort, which might almost have been laughter. "I outrank you six ways to breakfast, you vain little fool. Anyway, I was speaking to the Princess, and not to you." He turned slightly to her while the self proclaimed Emperor fish-mouthed. "I didn't need you getting ideas about running off, but your father, the Tyrant, is free, and has successfully taken control of five of the northwestern states. This pompous ass controls the rest . . . or used to."

  "And I have you in the palm of my hand, whoever you think you are," spat Deshin angrily. "At a word from me, you're dead."

  "I see," said Shael slowly, ignoring Deshin. "Arlinn does not rally to my father?"

  "Nor does it rise against him. The Tyrant'd be like a nut in a vise then, fighting on two fronts. At the moment our little Emperor here holds the balance of power. But if Arlinn enters the war on the other side, then your father both outnumbers and outgenerals him. As your mother's husband, the Tyrant calls for Arlinn's strength. But they evade the Tyrant's call by saying their allegiance is to you, until you are proven dead. This man needs you alive. Dead, you're worthless to him," said Cap.

  "How do you know this, Cap?" Shael asked, as a touch of doubt assailed her.

  "Heard it from northern merchants in Amphir. I took some care to keep you away from them."

  "I've had enough of this." Shael could detect the undertones of fear in Deshin's voice. "I'm tired of standing around in the rain bickering. I came here with a very generous offer. But I can take you in chains if need be. I think the first thing is to deal with this rabble of yours . . ."

  Cap smiled again, sharklike, and interrupted, "What do you intend for us, O great Emperor?"

  Deshin was too wrapped up in himself to notice the edge of sarcasm. "You'll have to die. I can't afford witnesses. I'll say the girl has been in my custody all along. That should deal with comments on her virginity."

  "You are very stupid, little play-acting Emperor." Leyla's voice was still and honeyed.

  Before the affronted man could react, Beywulf jockeyed his horse slightly forward, within reach of the emperor. His voice was slightly higher pitched than usual, but otherwise there was no sign of tension. "You say, `At a word from me, you're dead.' So . . . if you try and utter the wrong one, I'll kill you. If the boy over there doesn't put an arrow in you first. You see, he's got a drawn bow under that cloak."

  "I'm wearing a mail shirt, under this garment. It is very uncomfortable but I think I'm quite safe. And my bodyguards can deal with you." Deshin kept his cool with only a slight hesitation.

  Cap laughed. "Do you think so indeed! You don't know Beywulf. I've seen that sword cut through a quarter-inch steel gorget and continue on to cut the man in half." As he spoke Bey had drawn the huge sword.

  "And the boy is from the desert, Deshin." Shael's voice trembled slightly. "They use thin little poisoned arrows. There is a good chance they'll go right through your mail shirt, if he doesn't hit your face or neck. And his arrows are tipped with curare." Keilin wished she spoke the truth. Actually his cloak hid an assegai, and the man's head would be a hard target.

  "Besides that," Cap said from next to Shael, "I have the hole card. Be
fore your bow-and-lance troops, excellent though I admit they are, can kill me, I'll kill her."

  Deshin's voice was distinctly tense now. "You can all go. Just leave me the girl."

  "On the contrary. We'll take her along. Tell your men to unstring their bows. Stray arrows might happen otherwise, and we'd hate any accidents."

  Reluctantly the order was given. As the Cuirassiers got busy, Cap turned back to face Bey. Keilin caught a hand signal. "And to make doubly sure," said Cap, his voice calm, "we'll take you too." As he spoke Bey launched himself in a terrific spring. The first bodyguard was dead. The other was dying. And the bloody sword pressed against the throat of the Emperor.

  "Back! Back off, if you want your Emperor to live," Cap shouted, his voice carrying loudly back into the rain haze.

  "Let me go! My men will—"

  "Your men will back off and allow us to pass. If they do exactly as I tell them, you'll stay alive." There was that kind of certainty in the voice which goes far beyond any form of denial.

  They rode through the parting ranks, a grim little party with blades held against two throats. Leyla had Deshin's reins, but Shael held her own, sitting straight and regal, ignoring Cap's blade. But her eye was caught by a wink from a Cuirassier as they passed. She knew that face, even if she had had only a second to look at it, back when the guard at Shapstone palace had "ignored" her presence in the curtains. Just what had he been trying to say to her?

  They had come to the point where the sand spit became part of the mainland when a shower of arrows flew out of rain-shrouded scrub. One of them cut across Leyla's arm and hit Deshin's horse in the hock. The animal whinnied and reared, almost throwing its rider, ripping free the reins from Leyla, and bumping into the startled Beywulf. And the Emperor broke free, hanging low over the horse's neck.

  Keilin's assegai flew, as Cap, holding his sword aloft now, yelled, "Ride!" and kicked his horse to a gallop. In a few moments they were all galloping behind him. A brief skirmish and they were through, dodging away among the scrub patches and dripping palmettos in the rain haze.

  "To the sea!" Cap cried. They rode neck on neck, thundering onto the beach and along the tide wash, and then when they reached a rocky slab, they rode cautiously into the scrub. They couldn't see anyone behind them, in the rain curtains, but there were distant sounds. Cap led them further in, towards the ridges. He pushed them as hard and fast as the horses could go until darkness came.

  Their camp was as hidden as they could make it, deep in the liana jungle of the valley bottom. The rain had stopped but Cap denied them even the comfort of a small fire. "They're hunting us out there. It's not worth the chance. We'll leave here before dawn," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument. Then he turned to Beywulf, his voice flinty. "Well, Sergeant-Major, would you care to explain just what happened back there? Why didn't you kill the little bastard?"

  "No excuse, sir. I wasn't prepared for his horse to rear. I didn't think they'd take a chance with their hostage's life." In the dim leaf-shadowed moonlight, Beywulf stood ramrod straight, looking at the middle distance.

  "Hmm. That's no excuse, soldier."

  "Sir . . ." Keilin said cautiously.

  "Don't interrupt me, boy. That was a good throw of yours back there. Pity there wasn't really poison on the thing."

  "There was. If it cut him he's going to be unconscious for a day or two at least," Keilin said quietly.

  "What! That's better than I'd hoped. I saw it slice nicely into his shoulder. Obviously his mail shirt was more pretty than functional. And I thought it a pity it hadn't killed him! Well done, boy," said Cap, and turned back to Beywulf. "Now let me finish dealing with this bungler."

  "Sir, S'kith told me something else you must know," risked Keilin again. "Bey was right, sir. It was not the Emperor's men that shot at us. S'kith and I were at the back, as we're far the worst riders. They were trying to kill the Emperor, not us. There was one hell of a firefight behind us."

  At last Keilin had managed to shift Cap's attention. The man actually laughed. "All this for a bloody woman." He looked across to where she was silently unpacking her bedroll. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know. Any reasons why I shouldn't cut your throat, girl, and get them all off my back?"

  A pause. "Because I'm worth something alive. You can buy your way out of trouble using me," she said tiredly. "My father would probably give you a few regiments to attack FirstHive too."

  A silence. Keilin could almost hear Cap's mind turning over. "You stay with us, for now," said Cap, and then in an easier tone. "Beywulf, can you rustle us up some food quickly, while I dress Leyla's arm?"

  Quietly Bey moved over to the packs. As he passed Keilin, he gave the boy's arm a brief squeeze. Keilin knew what it meant: partly thanks, partly warning.

  Before dawn they were away again, moving inland, sticking to the forest margins, avoiding the villages by tedious and hot bushwacking. Once they sighted a party of soldiers, but remained hidden under the trees until they had passed. Keilin had been too tired to think the night before, but now his mind was busy turning over all the revelations of yesterday. His knowledge of politics was slim. In Port Tinarana he'd heard of the Tyrant, yes, but he knew little more. He had heard, and read, more of Arlinn, but he still barely understood the entire thing. He did however know that he'd made a fool of himself. He'd always been wary of talking to girls. He wasn't just wary about princesses, however. He was terrified of them. In Shael's mind, power and authority meant security. In Keilin's mind it meant "avoid at all costs." So he was. With great care. He was also wondering just what had got into him the previous night. Bey was a friend, sure, but when Cap was being like that he was Authority, and Keilin kept his head down and did what he was told. It was a long, hot, hard day, and he had plenty of time to think it all over.

  Tired, sweaty, plagued by flies and with the air thick with the coming thunderstorm, camp that evening was not a cheery place. With darkness the flies left, and once the party had plates of food inside them, their spirits began to rise. True, the heavy, starless sky and the breathless air portended yet another wet night, or a night with wet bedding at least, but a few comments were beginning to be made. At last Leyla broached the question on everyone's minds. "Where to from here, Cap?"

  He shrugged. "We need to go north, but if we try it in the midlands we run into real jungle, not just valley-bottom stuff. Cutting our way through it would take three or four months at least, and as like as not some of us'd die in interesting ways before we found our way out. If we found our way out. I tried it . . . once. It's all twisted ravines and impassable rivers, as well as totally confusing forest. I only got out by pure luck."

  He took a sip of his coffee. "Thanks to the three bungling burglars we can't go through Amphir. Thanks to our little Princess and her boyfriends the coast trail is closed. Which reminds me, what was all that wordplay about `Saril,' girl?" asked Cap, fixing her with his eagle gaze.

  She shrugged. "He's Deshin's boyfriend."

  "Hmm. Interesting . . . and possibly useful to know, in a homophobic society. A lever perhaps?" he asked, questing.

  "He does keep it a secret. In most of the Tyn States, it wouldn't be wise to be public about it. It's different in Arlinn, of course," she said.

  Cap snorted. "Thanks to bloody Evie Lee. Half of her friends were chutney ferrets. Still, it won't get us north. I suppose we can rope down the cliff between the watchtowers at night, but we couldn't take horses. On foot it would take us too long to get out of Amphir's territory. That only leaves us the option of going by sea to Dublin Moss. It's a bugger of a trip, weatherwise, but I don't see how else we can do it. We'll go further south and then down to Port Lockry."

  Keilin dredged his memory, trying to remember the place on the maps he'd pored over. "Back down through the lowlands?" he asked, just the edge of trepidation in his voice.

  He was rewarded with a snort of laughter. "Don't like them either, do you? Relax. We go back onto the plateau and then about five
days' ride we cut down through some of the finest farming country in the world."

  * * *

  "Cay." His tired eyes jumped open. Only one person whispered like that. He sat up. "Princess. What can I do for you?" The wind was beginning to rip at the tree branches and the air was rapidly chilling. It was going to rain soon.

  "Can I sit under some of your blanket? I'm cold." Her voice was timorous. Two days ago Keilin would have been delighted. Now he was wary. "Hadn't you just better go back to your bed, Princess?"

  She stamped her foot, forgetting that she was being quiet. Fortunately the wind in the clattering branches effectively masked the sound. "Will you stop treating me as if I've got some disease," she whispered fiercely. "Stop Princessing me too. You know my name."

  "I thought I did," he said slowly. "But it seems it isn't Kim after all,"

  "Cymbellyn is my second name."

  "It's a lovely name, Princess. But you see, I don't even have a second name. I'm a street child. I'm a thief. I ran away from the brothel my mother lived in, because I found out she was going to sell me to a house that specialized in pretty boys. She wanted the money to buy drugs. See, my kind and yours don't mix," Keilin said sadly.

  After a long moment's shocked silence he spoke again. "I used to dream about rescuing a princess, and the king making me a noble and giving me his daughter and a fortune. But . . . it isn't like that in real life. If I took you to your father, he'd be glad to have you back. But he'd see that I disappeared sharpish, wouldn't he?"

  "Yes." Her voice was very small, and the sudden flash of lightning showed that she was looking at her feet.

  "So . . . when we get to Dublin Moss, I'll sneak you away to him. And then I'm going to disappear myself . . . before he helps me along." Big droplets of rain came splattering through the tree-canopy. In the brief lightning starkness he could have sworn she shook her head. But hammer-blows of wind shook and rattled the forest, making speech near impossible, and the raindrops began to come down in earnest now. Keilin bundled his bed roll into an oilcloth saddlebag.