The kortexi stopped, stunned in place, his face flaming. The others moved around him, continuing to follow the seklesi as he picked his way among the trees going north and down the hill. Klare moved up next to Rokwolf.
“What were you whispering about?” she asked Rokwolf.
Rokwolf glanced at her before responding. “The kortexi was sharing some of his prejudices with me.”
“Don’t be too mean to him, brother,” Klare said, laying a hand fondly on his arm. “He has had some very rough days.”
Rokwolf glanced at Klare again. “He’s not the only one,” he replied curtly, then moved quickly ahead of her.
Klare fell back next to her husband, who was just behind her and in front of Thal and Blakstar. “Rokwolf seems upset by something,” she spoke softly to Klaybear.
Klaybear looked to his twin. “Yes,” he replied, “something is bothering him, and he has told me almost nothing about what happened to him.” He sighed. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with his ability to lead us to Shigmar’s Tomb.”
“Let’s hope not,” Klare said. “I’d hate to make this journey, trying to dodge whoever Gar sends after us, with half of us not speaking to, or arguing with, the other half. We must be united, or we will be caught and killed, or worse.”
Klaybear nodded once, then looked toward his brother. “Maybe I can find something out,” he whispered to his spouse, “if I speak to him in our private language.”
Klare laid her hand fondly on her spouse’s arm. “I hope so, since he used to be so pleasant to be around.”
Ahead of them, Rokwolf stopped, holding up one hand; the others stopped where they were and waited; they saw Tevvy detach himself from the shadows. He greeted Rokwolf, accepted the reins of his pony, then the two began to speak, although the others heard no sound. After a moment, Rokwolf turned and waved them forward.
“The road looks clear,” Rokwolf said softly when they had all joined him, “which will allow us to move quickly.”
“None of the enemy,” Tevvy added, “not even any of the newcomers, have moved to secure the road, nor have they sent out any scouts.”
“They will soon,” Rokwolf said, “both in this direction, and the road south. It is good that the Headmaster insisted on sending messengers toward Holvar, to contact the first seklesi patrol they can find; that way, word should reach the Fereghen by midday.”
“How soon will the seklesi army be able to leave?” Blakstar asked.
“The Fereghen will call in all nearby patrols,” Rokwolf replied, “and all seklesem in Holvar, so early evening.”
“Which means,” Blakstar said, “that they will not arrive for two more days, if there is not another army between Shigmar and Holvar.”
Rokwolf nodded. “Two days, at least.”
“Is the door still open?” Thal asked Blakstar.
The kortexi looked puzzled. “How would I know? I cannot see the door from here.”
“Your sword,” Thal said, “can you still feel the morgle using the rod through your sword?”
Blakstar’s hand went to the hilt of his sword; he nodded. “It is humming as it did this morning.” He paused. “Couldn’t we interrupt him again, as we did earlier this morning?”
Thal laughed softly. “Didn’t you see all those black maghem and red kailum? And the glowing red dome covering the arch?”
Blakstar nodded. “They were the first out of the arch.”
“Uh-huh,” Thal nodded, “and they were there for our benefit: to prevent us from interrupting the morgle a second time. Twenty-four power wielding minions maintaining that dome! He must think we are quite powerful, which is really good for the ego,” he finished with a smile.
Klaybear chuckled. “And if we tried to interrupt him again, he would quickly discover how weak we really are.”
Rokwolf’s brow wrinkled. They heard a loud sound, like steam hissing and whistling out of a pot. Rokwolf looked up toward the sound before speaking. “Another aperu, sounds like a yellow, or an orange, and it means a second legion.” He looked back down and at Blakstar. “And is the doorway still open?”
Blakstar nodded once, still touching the hilt of his sword.
Rokwolf shook his head. “A third legion, then; this will complicate things,” he whispered softly to himself. He looked back toward Shigmar. “We better get moving,” he said, still looking away, “before they send out patrols.”
They quickly led their horses out of the trees and onto the road, mounting and beginning to trot north, the kortexi riding with one hand touching the hilt of his sword.
“Let me know when it stops,” Rokwolf called over his shoulder, “which will give us some idea of the forces this morgle is bringing against Shigmar.”
“Why do we need to know that?” Thal asked.
“The Headmaster told me,” Rokwolf replied, “that we should retrieve the staff and return quickly; he has some information that the staff will save Shigmar.”
Klaybear and Klare turned in their saddles to look back at Rokwolf; Tevvy had already galloped his pony ahead, to scout further down the road.
“He told you that?” Klaybear said, looking back at Klare. “Why wouldn’t he share that information with us?”
“He said,” Rokwolf replied, “that he just discovered that information, and there was no time to tell you. He added that it was my burden, and that you would have enough on your minds without adding that to the burdens you will carry.”
Klaybear looked at Klare and saw the same surprise on her face that he now felt.
“Those were his words,” Rokwolf added, “not mine.”
Thal scratched his chin. “He spoke in the future,” he noted, “referring to things that would happen, probably as a result of retrieving the staff.”
“It sounds . . . ,” Klare hesitated, “ominous.”
One of Klaybear’s eyebrows rose. “I wonder how he knows?” he whispered.
“I wonder what he knows?” Thal asked.
“I tried to ask,” Rokwolf explained, “but he ignored my question, moving off to take care of other business.”
“Shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on the awemi?” Blakstar asked.
Rokwolf paused before answering, head turning north to where Tevvy had disappeared around a bend in the road. “He’ll be fine,” he said, looking back at the kortexi. “I was one of those who helped train him. You should keep focused on your sword: is it still humming?”
The kortexi nodded.
“I’ll ride forward periodically to check on him and learn what he has discovered of the road ahead, if anything,” Rokwolf noted. “From what we have seen, the road north appears to be empty.”
“That is odd,” Klaybear said, “there is usually some traffic on this road, even this early.”
Rokwolf shrugged. “No one was allowed to leave this morning,” he noted, “the city gates were not opened.”
“Yes, but there are always some local farmers coming to town this time of day,” Klaybear said, “it is odd that there is no one.”
Rokwolf gazed north again, before turning and answering his twin. “It is an advantage for us,” he said, “that way, there will be no one who has seen us traveling the road, no one who could be captured by the invaders and provide intelligence of our whereabouts. Surely the morgle knows about the chosen, knows that Gar is particularly interested in thwarting us, or even capturing us.”
The others fell silent; they trotted north for about a quarter of an hour in silence, which was disrupted by a third, echoing roar from the south. Blakstar touched the hilt of his sword, concentrating for a moment before speaking.
“The doorway is still open,” he whispered.
“A fourth legion,” Rokwolf replied, kicking his heels into his horse’s flanks, spurring his mount forward. “I’m going to check on Tevvy,” he said without turning.
“How long should we trot,” Klaybear asked Blakstar, “before we will need to rest the horses?”
The kortexi leaned forward patti
ng Wingfoot on the neck. “He could go on for hours, if necessary.” He leaned back, looking around at the other horses. “Yours look like they are in pretty good shape; the only one I’d worry about is the awemi’s pony, which looks fairly stout, but the fact that he is riding ahead of us . . . ,” he hesitated for a moment, “and he’s riding a pony, means that his mount will probably tire first.”
Klaybear nodded. “Since my twin helped train him,” he noted, “I’m sure he will not overtire his mount.”
Blakstar frowned and nodded, falling silent, hand returning to the hilt of his sword; their horses’ hooves echoed dully, breaking the unnatural silence surrounding them. Klare moved her mount closer to her husband; Klaybear looked around nervously. Thal rode next to Blakstar, thoughts turned inward; the road climbed slowly, winding next to the river. After another ten minutes of silent trotting, they rounded a corner and saw Rokwolf waiting for them.
“All clear,” Rokwolf noted, moving his mount to a trot as they approached him.
“The road is still empty?” Klaybear asked.
Rokwolf nodded. “I think we are ahead of their patrols, so we should be fine; we should probably keep trotting for another half-an-hour before slowing to a walk.” He turned to look back at Blakstar. “Is the doorway still open?”
Blakstar, who had been riding with one hand on the hilt of his sword, nodded once.
“We will want to know . . . ,” Rokwolf began but was interrupted by the kortexi.
“It’s stopped!” Blakstar exclaimed.
Moments after Blakstar’s exclamation, they heard the distant sound of a roar, echoing dully.
“The fourth aperu,” Rokwolf said softly, “four legions set against Shigmar.” He shook his head slowly. “The city will fall before help can arrive,” he whispered in twin.
“What is bothering you?” Klaybear asked, also in their private language. “You have not been yourself.”
Rokwolf looked at his twin for a time before replying. “Time, time is always too short, the time is never right.” He kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and rode ahead before Klaybear could respond.
Klaybear watched his twin riding ahead; Klare touched his arm.
“What did he say?” Klare whispered. “Did you ask him what is bothering him?”
Klaybear turned to his wife. “I did; he did not tell me,” he said, “not really.” He sighed. “He thinks Shigmar will fall before help can arrive, then he said something about time being too short and not right.”
Klare snorted. “Time is always too short,” she noted, not realizing she repeated what Rokwolf had said, “but why would he think time is not right? Not right for what?”
Klaybear shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “We do not ride often enough,” he noted.
Klare nodded and then waited, knowing her husband was thinking.
They rode for a time in silence. “You don’t suppose he is still upset over Marilee?” Klaybear asked.
“You’re still bothered by Malkonik,” Klare countered, “even though he can no longer be a rival.” She smiled and touched his arm fondly.
Klaybear returned her smile, recognizing her jest. “So you think he still could be?”
Klare nodded. “He was really sure they were meant to marry when we last saw him; my heart always told me that they were not right for each other, regardless of what that methaghi told him. I’ve always thought my friend was better for him, but now that does not seem possible.”
“He needs to let her go and move on,” Klaybear said.
“So do you,” Klare noted, and smiled again.
Klaybear nodded, looking forward again at his twin’s back. “He still seems to be able to do his work,” Klaybear noted.
Klare shrugged. “I’m not so sure,” she replied. “Marilee seemed to suggest that his obsession with her is what caused them to be out of place when . . . ,” she broke off, looking back at Thal and Blakstar riding behind them. “Was he the kortexi they were supposed to be protecting?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.
“Marilee thought as much,” Klaybear replied.
“Does he know?”
“Which he?” Klaybear asked, “Blakstar, or Rokwolf?”
“Does it matter?” Klare countered.
“Well,” Klaybear said, “Blakstar was in the room when she voiced her belief that he was the kortexi they were supposed to be protecting, and I could tell she felt terrible for what she believed had happened, but Blakstar doesn’t remember a thing, although it is easy to figure out given the records of his order concerning those who failed to reach the Mountain.”
“And Rokwolf?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know; I’m sure he knows that his being pulled out of position caused problems for a kortexi, but he may not know that the kortexi was Blakstar.” He looked at his wife riding next to him. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “You look suddenly pale.”
Klare swayed in her saddled; Klaybear put out a hand to steady her. “Suddenly is right! I feel . . . ,” she hesitated, putting one hand over her stomach, “like I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, turning her mount off the road and riding into the trees.
Klaybear whistled to Rokwolf, who turned and stopped, seeing his twin riding off the road.
“What is it?” Thal asked, he and Blakstar stopping where Klaybear left the road.
“Klare is suddenly ill,” Klaybear called over his shoulder, following her into the trees; they heard the sound of her retching somewhere beyond Klaybear.
Rokwolf trotted back while the sounds of Klare’s retching continued. He stopped facing the others. “That’s Klare?” he asked.
Thal nodded. “She turned pale suddenly, then rode into the trees.”
One of Rokwolf’s eyebrows raised slightly; a smile touched the corner of his mouth as he looked to where Klaybear had followed her into the trees, and the sounds of Klare’s retching became more labored. “This could present some problems,” he whispered.
“Problems?” Thal asked, looking puzzled.
The kortexi sat with his brow wrinkled.
“Yes,” Rokwolf replied, smiling, “if she has to stop frequently throughout the morning to be sick,” he went on, emphasizing the word.
Comprehension dawned on the maghi’s face; a crooked grin lit up his long face, framed by his wild red hair. “Yes, that could cause us some problems.” His grin widened into a smile he turned on Rokwolf, and the two of them turned to smile at Klaybear, who had stopped just inside the edge of the trees; Blakstar’s brow was still wrinkled.
Klaybear turned and saw both of their smiles. “What are you implying?” he asked.
“That you, brother,” Rokwolf said, grinning wider at the fact that his brother did not comprehend, “have proven yourself a real wethi.”
Thal snorted. “That your father’s bloodline will continue into the next generation,” he added.
Klaybear looked at them both, grinning at him, almost laughing at him, when the import of their words finally sank into his conscious thought; his face lit up, split by a grin that mirrored Rokwolf’s. “I better go and tell Klare,” he said, stupidly, turning and riding back into the trees; Klare’s retching had nearly stopped.
Thal and Rokwolf laughed; the kortexi was still looking puzzled, brow wrinkled. “Are you saying that she’s going to slow us down by being frequently ill, which means pursuit will catch up and trap us, and you think that is funny?”
Thal and Rokwolf laughed again; from the trees, they heard Klare’s voice: “What are you doing!” her voice exclaimed.
“Hugging you,” his voice replied, “we’re going to be parents!”
“Parents?” her voice replied, “have you gone . . . ,” her voice trailed off.
Comprehension dawned on the kortexi’s face; he smiled. “Now I understand, morning sick,” he said.
“Put me down, you great oaf!” Klare’s voice said, “I think I’m going to be sick again!”
The sound of her retching res
tarted; they smiled and chuckled for a moment.
“All jesting aside,” Thal said, “Should we be worried about pursuit, if we have to stop periodically for Klare?”
Rokwolf looked toward the south. “I’m sure their patrols have gone out by now, which puts us about . . . ,” he was saying, then stopped when their horses jumped, startled by the sound of a concussion to the south; all heads turned in that direction; Rokwolf and Blakstar’s hands went to their swords.
“It’s humming again!” Blakstar exclaimed, his exclamation countered by the sound of creaking and cracking wood away south, followed by the sound of a tree crashing to the ground; Klare went suddenly silent.
Rokwolf turned his mount and rode off in the direction of the sound. “Wait here,” he said.
While they waited the two kailum led their mounts out of the trees and onto the road; Klare was pale, looking like she would be sick again.
“What was that?” Klaybear whispered.
Thal shrugged. “Rokwolf went to investigate.”
A few minutes passed in silence; Klare held quite still, willing her stomach not to heave. Rokwolf rode back into sight, his brow wrinkled.
“What was it?” Klaybear asked.
“A tree falling,” he replied. He stopped and looked at the kortexi. “Your sword?” he asked.
“Stopped as soon as we heard the tree falling,” Blakstar replied.
“Old trees,” Thal noted, “sometimes fall after long, hard winters.”
The Redemption, Volume 1 Page 39
