Keep on the Borderlands

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  “I don’t believe it matters,” Jerdren said as the outlander hesitated. “But by all means, if we’ve someone good at trees.”

  “No point in risking a broken leg this early on,” Eddis replied mildly. The tension between the two was gone. “We came straight east last night. We’re going north today, aren’t we?”

  “Toward that hilltop,” Jerdren agreed, his finger moving to tap at the indicated height.

  “At worst, we’ll need to angle a little east or west to make it. Though I’m still not sure why we want that hill. Map shows it covered in old forest, Jers. What d’you think we’ll see from there?”

  “Well, we probably won’t see much,” Jerdren said as he shoved stones aside and re-rolled his map, folded it twice, and stuffed it into his pack. “Thing is, we should be able to hear things. I grew up in hilly, wooded country, and sound carries in hilly, forested land. If there is a camp over a day’s worth from the Keep, I doubt the men who’ve set it up will bother to be quiet, especially if they don’t know we’re out here. If they’re within an hour or so of that hilltop, we should hear them. If the lines on this map are correct, or close to it, for how the land rises and falls—well, we can very likely tell where the sound is coming from.”

  Eddis gave him a cold look and got to her feet. “I didn’t ask for a lecture, Jerdren, and I’m not a dim-witted child. Next time just tell me.” She strode off and knelt to stuff her loose belongings into her pack.

  “She’s right, Brother,” Blorys said finally. “She’s not a child or a fool. Don’t treat her like one.”

  M’Baddah had already quietly moved away.

  Jerdren watched his brother go and cast up his eyes. Here I thought fighting a camp of robbers was going to be the hard part. He made sure the map was tucked firmly into his pack, got up and stretched hard, fingers digging at the small of his back.

  They moved on soon after, angling north and a little east through ancient trees. There was little undergrowth here, and only an occasional ray of sun came all the way down to touch the needle-cushioned ground. More light reached them at midday, when they took a break, sharing around a skin of wine and one of water while their provisioner and cook handed out flat bread, cheese, spicy, jerked venison, and dried apple slices. The rest of the day was as quiet as the first half, and they made the top of the hill just before sundown.

  The trees were an odd mix, here. Massive oaks with thick branches set far apart, as if the hill had once been a nobleman’s park. In and around these, scrub oaks, fir and other trees twice as tall as the tallest of them, and thin. Spine-brush and other weedy undergrowth was everywhere.

  There had been no water all afternoon. No pools, not even a dry stream bed, and as the ground rose, the dirt grew harder underfoot. Mead, who was still in the middle of the company, glanced at Jerdren once or twice and finally dropped back to join him.

  “There is something wrong here,” the elf said quietly.

  “Wrong?” Jerdren stopped, sent his gaze around the woods, tested the air with his nose, then simply closed his eyes and felt. No unusual sound, but no lack of sound, either. He could hear birds high in the branches, small creatures rustling through the lower brush. Nothing that would have warned the boy Jers to back away and run for it. He finally opened his eyes and shook his head.

  “Excuse me please, but I’ve never before worked with a magi—a mage. Or an elf. Perhaps we’re not using wrong in the same way. I’m at home in a hilly wood, and there’s nothing here to make me wary. You?”

  Mead was standing very still, head cocked. He shook his head. “I am not certain what it is. My spell revealed nothing. Just—if we stay in this area for the night…”

  Jers considered this, then shrugged and started walking again. The rest of the company was a ways ahead, and Eddis glanced back. He waved her on.

  “We should have about one more hour of walking, mostly uphill. Once we’re there, we’ll talk again, Mead. If there’s danger about, we’d be fools to camp in the midst of it.”

  The mage merely nodded.

  They reached the brow of the hill well before sunset. There was little brush here, but the trees were closer together and smaller. Most of the Keep men were already sitting as Jerdren came up, rummaging through their packs for water and dry wafers, while others gathered firewood. M’Baddah and his son were keeping watch. Blorys knelt to cut a hole in the springy grass for the fire. Eddis just dropped her pack and was waiting as her co-captain joined them.

  “Nothing much to see here, Jers, and all I’ve heard so far is the noise we’re making. Which isn’t much.”

  “It’s enough,” he said and bit back irritation that was at least half caused by tired legs and feet. “We’ll listen once everyone’s settled in. But you and I had better listen to Mead, first.” He repeated the earlier conversation.

  Eddis frowned at her fingers, then looked around for the mage.

  The elf had moved away from the rest of the party and now stood with his hands against the bole of a massive oak, eyes closed, fingers exploring the rough bark. Willow eyed his half-brother anxiously, then came over to join Eddis and Jerdren.

  “He said he told you, Jerdren. He still can’t be specific about the threat, just that there’s something. He’s concerned enough that he won’t be sleeping tonight.”

  “If… we were to keep going, farther north maybe, or back the way we came?” Eddis asked. “There’s at least an hour of daylight left, but we could keep going after dark with lanterns again.”

  The elf shrugged. “He’s had the sense for most of the afternoon. Whatever is bothering him, I doubt we could get far enough away from it before dark, but he still says there isn’t anything close by that’s any threat.” Willow tipped his head back to gaze high into the trees. “The last time he had a feeling like this, we were attacked by an owlbear. Nasty creatures, and hard to kill. But there’s plenty of deer and small game tracks here. You wouldn’t see any, if it was an owlbear.”

  “We’ve got trackers,” Jerdren said. “Men or—or whatever’s around—has to leave prints.”

  Eddis waved an arm, taking in the land sloping down and away from them on all sides. “On this? There hasn’t been rain in a long time. The ground’s hard.” She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All the same, you’re right. I’ll get a couple of these men to keep watch and let M’Baddah and M’Whan take a look while we’re getting settled in. And I say we keep the fire going tonight,” she added. “All night.”

  “I was going to say as much,” Jerdren replied.

  Eddis merely nodded and went off to talk to her lieutenant.

  Thin, high clouds began to move in as their cook got a fire going and began kneading dough for bread. Wind sighed through the high branches, though little reached the camp. Willow found a small, bubbling pool down the north side of the hill, so there was water for soup and washing. The meal was eaten in shifts, with four on guard around the hilltop at all times. Mead ate on his feet, wandering in and out of the trees, often stopping to listen.

  Willow, Blorys, and Eddis took turns at listening also. The only nearby sounds were wind, and the crackle of fire, and now and again small birds high overhead.

  Later, when Jerdren went down to the spring, a squirrel ran off chattering through the branches, and moments later the unmistakable bounding thumps of a deer crashing through the undergrowth brought him up short. He closed his eyes briefly as the deer moved out of hearing. Odd, he thought. There still wasn’t anything that would have warned Lim to run for it or at least keep a wary eye out. Still, he’d have expected more squirrels, possibly birds lower in the branches and not just high in the firs. He climbed back to the camp, dipped his cup in the pot of tea, and got comfortable.

  “If there’s a camp anywhere hereabouts, we’d’ve heard something. I didn’t, and more to the point, neither did Blor or Willow. So I’m thinking,” he added with a glance at Eddis, “that we turn back south tomorrow and angle off toward the east.”

  She s
hrugged, sipped steaming liquid, then turned to look for Mead. The mage was leaning back against the great oak, staring up into its branches.

  Willow stirred. “I’d like that. If there’s no one out here, then we’re wasting time and supplies looking.” He shook out his folding leather cup, dipped up a fresh cup of tea, and carried it over to his half-brother.

  Jerdren looked at Eddis again, then around the campfire at each of the men there.

  “All right. We’ll move out at first light. Some of you gather more wood, enough to keep that thing going all night. Make sure one of you’s watching while the other gathers branches.” His eyes strayed toward the now pacing mage. “He’ll be on watch the entire night, but we’ll keep four men on at all times. Blor, you take someone and bring back water for the morning.”

  “Better do it now,” Eddis added. “Once it’s dark, a spring like that could draw all kinds of predators.”

  He knows that, Eddis, Jerdren thought tiredly. His brother merely smiled, caught up the empty pot, and took one of the spearmen with him.

  * * *

  The sun was gone from sight, muffled in cloud. There would be no moon until nearly dawn, and the night was very dark. Four at a time kept watch, with one making sure the fire stayed going. Mead walked quietly around the circle of sleepers, or leaned against the oak, his fingers exploring the bark and his eyes troubled.

  * * *

  Eddis came awake at M’Baddah’s light touch and sat up, shoving wisps of hair out of her face. The air was cool and still. Disorienting, she thought. I thought it was autumn, and me back home again. She’d half expected to see the familiar old bed she’d shared with her sisters, and beyond the narrow window opening, the family vegetable garden. Here instead was a campfire and ruddy light on tree trunks, flickering shadows cast by trees and branches, and armed men who moved quietly around the hilltop.

  It wasn’t her favorite sight. She’d grown fairly used to woods and the way a campfire made them look, but firelight hid more than it showed, and just now she could imagine all manner of things just out of sight. Don’t imagine, she ordered herself flatly and rubbed her eyes.

  “Quiet so far,” M’Baddah whispered.

  Eddis nodded and sat cross-legged to string her bow, then looked around. M’Whan squatted by the fire, cup in hand, and two of the Keep men were moving out into the night as two others came in and rolled in their blankets for a few more hours of sleep. Most of the men around the fire were merely dark, blanketed lumps, but Blorys was directly across from her, a shock of red hair spilling over his face. Eddis gathered up her bow and three arrows, making sure the rest weren’t bound together in the quiver the way they sometimes got, and walked away from the light.

  Mead was there, pacing around the great oak. If he saw her, he made no sign. Eddis hesitated, then went on. Better not to distract the mage, though his behavior worried her. She hesitated again just off the brow of the hill. Thin fingers of firelight flickered on a pale-barked tree, but it was otherwise dark out here. Once her eyes adjusted, she’d be able to see as well as anyone but an elf. Just don’t trip on something and break your neck, Eddis, she thought. One thing for certain: Any bandits sneaking up on them might see the fire, but they’d see no better than she did, and she’d hear them coming. Every few steps she stopped, but there wasn’t anything to hear. Hope that means the other three are being as cautious as I am and not that they aren’t moving. Or that something got—

  She broke that thought immediately. This wasn’t the place to think about “things” getting anyone.

  Back the other direction, then. She could make out more of her surroundings this time—like the line of heavy, dry brush on her left that anyone or anything would have to crash through to reach the camp from the west.

  She reached the end of the brush and was ready to turn back when Mead’s yell of alarm reached her, and, from the sounds of things, immediately roused the camp. Someone was bellowing orders up there—Jerdren? But another voice topped his—a rough one that didn’t belong to any of their men. She tightened her grip on the bow, shifted the arrows to the same hand and, with her free hand outstretched to keep her from running headfirst into trees, clambered back up the hill as fast as she dared.

  The camp looked like utter chaos, with half-wakened men scrambling from their blankets to snatch up the weapons they’d left at hand, and others charging across the open ground to protect them from the half-dozen massive brutes who came striding up from the south. They carried ugly spears and two-handed swords, and she realized with a shock that none of them were human. Jerdren and M’Baddah stood shoulder to shoulder, swords ready, just behind three of the Keep men who braced their spears against the ground. Blorys and Willow were firing arrows as quickly as they could, and as Eddis hesitated at the edge of the clearing, one of the hulking creatures howled and staggered away, two arrows protruding from its thick neck.

  Mead stood with his back to the fire, halfway between it and the vast oak, staring up into darkness. Eddis looked in horror as a bloody Keep man fell from the lowest branches and lay unmoving at the mage’s feet. As she set an arrow to her string and started toward Mead, the elf mage waved her back.

  “No closer,” he shouted. “It’s a lion!”

  Eddis swallowed sudden dread and backed away, eyes fixed on the tree. She was dimly aware of the fighting behind her—men crying out in pain, a clash of swords, and the bellowing of wounded enemy. There. Gods! Twice her height above the ground, she could make out see the green glow of narrowed eyes reflecting firelight. Then M’Baddah had her by the arm, dragging her away toward the fire that their cook was working hard to build up.

  “Three of the monsters are dead,” her lieutenant told her. He almost had to shout to be heard above the melee. “The others won’t last much longer. Stay back from that tree, my Eddis. The beast came without warning and snatched him up before any of us could react!”

  He knelt to wrap moss around one of the long branches, tied it in place, and poured a dollop of lamp oil over it. He turned away to look over the fighting as Eddis swallowed dread. The cat’s eyes seemed to hold hers. Willow moved past her, bloody sword in one hand, and took up a position not far behind his half-brother.

  Jerdren’s excited voice rose above the clamor of fighting. “That’s got ’em, men! One more of ’em bleeding and—sure enough, there they go! No, stay put!” he ordered sharply. “No point in giving ’em cause to turn in the dark out there and come against us. We’ll clean up, wait for daybreak, and move out. Willow, where’d that brute of a cat come from?”

  Light flared from Mead’s outstretched hands, illuminating the oak and its occupant: A tawny, cream and black cat at least as long as Eddis was tall spat and snarled in fury from its perch.

  “It should run from light,” she whispered. Why isn’t it running? Why, for that matter, had it attacked a lighted camp?

  The beast vaulted onto a higher branch and edged out over the mage, ears slowly going flat. Mead fell back a pace and began another muttered spell. M’Baddah thrust one of his fresh-made torches into the fire and handed the spluttering branch to Eddis. When he started across open ground toward the oak with another, Willow held up a hand.

  “Stay where you are! It has already killed one man, and you cannot reach it with that anyway.”

  “It’s not showing proper fear of fire or light,” Blorys said. “It just pounced, caught that man by the throat, shook him, and started dragging him into the tree. That’s not natural!”

  “Arrow!” one of the Keep men called out. Eddis ducked down as an arrow sang over her head and buried itself deep in the branch just in front of the massive cat. The beast snarled and snapped it with a slap of one massive paw, but stayed where it was.

  “Don’t flush it down here!” Jerdren ordered sharply. “It’s already killed once! If we can scare it off—!”

  “And how do you plan on that?” Eddis demanded.

  M’Baddah handed his torch to one of the spearmen, strung his bow, a
nd fished out one of his arrows with a thickness just behind the point. He held that in the fire until it caught, took careful aim, and fired, just as sparks exploded upward from Mead’s outstretched hands. The arrow just missed the cat, but Mead’s spell didn’t. Eddis smelled burned hair. The cat screamed, half-spun on its branch, and leaped for the ground. It was a long blur of gold and black, flying across the clearing, then it was gone. They heard it squalling, well to the north, then nothing.

  Eddis’ legs folded under her. Her skin went chill and damp. M’Baddah dropped down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Everything is fine now, my Eddis,” he murmured. “The beast is gone and so are the orcs—the two who were able to flee.”

  Behind them, someone was building up the fire, and she could hear Jerdren calling out sharp orders.

  “We’ll search those brutes before we drag the bodies out of camp. Any gold or gems they might have on ’em—well, I’d say we’ve earned those, all of us. Eddis?”

  “I’m here!” she called back, and for a wonder her voice was steady.

  “Just checking! M’Baddah, we need some of that salve of yours over here. Got a couple nasty cuts.”

  “I will tend the wounded,” Mead said as he came back into the light. “Orc blades are sometimes poisoned.” He murmured something to Willow, who set an arrow to his string and stayed by the oak, gazing out northward. The mage hesitated as M’Baddah helped Eddis to her feet.

  “Are you all right, Eddis?” he asked. “You look pale.”

  “I feel pale,” she said and licked her lips. “I hate lions. I really hate them. They eat people! I came out here to fight bandits, not to get eaten!”

  Mead smiled briefly and squeezed Eddis’ fingers.

  “I had forgotten that about you.” The smile was gone as he glanced back toward the tree. “But there are worse ways to die. That man—he never knew what struck him.”