by Matt Heppe
"Better than a sword in the ribs," Arno replied.
“Not bad,” her uncle announced. The armor covered her from neck to mid thigh and had sleeves to her elbows.
She tried to move her arms and bend at her waist. The armor was stiff, but manageable. “You think this is really necessary?” she asked.
“You have to wear an aketon under your mail,” Segreg said. “The mail stops blades but the concussion will break your bones without an aketon underneath.”
“No, I mean the armor itself.”
"Saladorans are not like us," Arno said. "They’re very conscious of wealth and rank. You’ve heard the old tales. Nobles, kings and queens, knights and ladies, are held above all others. And only those of great rank wear armor and carry weapons.”
“It will be to your advantage to be well fitted out,” her uncle said. “The Saladorans will give you more respect.”
Hadde sighed. “What’s next?”
“The mail corselet,” Segreg said.
Hadde obediently raised her arms as he slipped the mail over her head.
“Buckle this around your waist.” Segreg handed her a wide belt. “It will take some of the weight off your shoulders.” Hadde nodded in thanks.
“And finally, your helm.” He placed a padded leather cap on her head and tied it under her chin. It covered the top of her head and had flaps that went over her ears. On top of the arming cap he placed a conical iron helm with a mail aventail that covered the back of her neck.
“You’re joking, right?” Hadde asked when he finished.
He smiled and shook his head. “Just like a heroic Saladoran knight.”
“A short, skinny, heroic Saldoran knight,” added Belor. He laughed at Hadde's glare.
“You’ll have your bows, of course,” Segreg said. “But Saladorans don’t think them proper weapons. I have two battle axes and the raiders’ swords, but here is something special.”
From behind the table he pulled a sheathed sword. Its blade gleamed in the lantern light as he drew it.
“It's been years since I last saw it,” Hadde said. She remembered it only as a prop when the elders told ancient tales of Salador. It saddened her that it might be used for its original intended purpose.
“This is no Kiremi sabre,” Segreg said. “It’s a Saladoran broadsword. It has been in our village for a hundred years. I never had the heart to re-forge it into something useful. Take it up, Hadde. It’s well balanced and not as heavy as it looks.”
The sword’s light weight surprised her as she took it from him. “Still, it seems too large for me.” She held it with two hands so that it was easier to handle.
“It isn’t a matter of wielding it,” Arno said. “You’ll rely on your bows and your speed to escape danger. For Saladorans, the sword is a symbol of status."
"May I see it?" Belor asked.
Hadde handed it to him and smiled at the excitement in his eyes as he swept the sword up in a salute. "It will look good on you, Belor. You wear it."
"Really? Thank you!"
"Put you in mail and you'll truly look the part of a knight."
Segreg shook his head. "None of the mail will fit him. He'll have to do with the aketon. It's a good one—we took it off one of the silver-eyes."
"I'll wear his helm as well." Belor held up a black steel helm chased in bronze. A bronze bear's head roared from atop the nasal. Hadde laughed as he imitated the bear's fierce scowl.
"This isn't a game," Arno snapped. "Get to Salador, sell the necklace, and come back with food."
"Yesterday we agreed that Hadde and I would go to Sal-Oras and find the king," Belor said.
"I never agreed to it. And every day you're gone will be a torment for Enna."
"The Goddess Helna will guide them, Brother," Segreg said. "And the Spirit of Landomere will sustain them. Enna knows as well as anyone that something has to be done. We all play our part." He turned to Hadde and Belor. "We'll all pray that you'll have no need for these arms and armor. We'll all pray for your success."
***
Hadde mounted Lightfoot and waved to the villagers gathered around her. All fifty-eight of Long Meadow’s residents were present. Beside her, Belor sat impatiently on Quickstep.
“Thank you for your kind farewell,” Hadde said. “I promise we’ll return soon. I promise to bring aid.”
“You’ll save us, Hadde!” Calen called out. Applause followed his words, although there were more than a few glum faces in the crowd. Not everyone was happy to see the two hunters ride off with three horses.
“We’ll try,” she replied, but too quietly to be heard. Her father appeared beside her and offered her the lead to their third horse. She tied it to her saddle.
“Windwalker is ready," he said. "You brought your spare bow?"
"Yes, Father."
"And how many arrows?"
"A dozen in my bowcase and another two score in my quivers."
"I should get more."
"Stop it, Father," Hadde said as he turned to leave. "Belor has more. And we aren't riding off to war."
"I know. But... I'm worried for you." He paused as if considering his words. “You know where to go? You know the way to Silver Spring?”
“Father!" There were chuckles from the crowd behind her father. Hadde rolled her eyes.
“From Belavil you ride….”
“Four days north and east. I keep the high ground to my right and go downstream at every opportunity. I know the way.”
Arno took her elbow and pulled her down close. In a hushed voice he said, "Hadde, you and I are of the same mind. Don't trust to some supernatural guidance. Don't trust to luck. Sell the—”
He paused as Enna stepped up to them. “Don’t tarry, Hadde,” she said. “Come home as soon as you can. Helna is with you.”
“I promise. As soon as my task is complete.”
Tears welled in Enna’s eyes. “I’ll miss you. Take care of each other.” She squeezed Hadde’s hand one last time and turned away.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Hadde replied. With a final glance at her father, she and Belor turned their horses and rode from Long Meadow.
For the rest of the day they guided their horses across familiar hunting grounds. They rode hard but spared their horses by switching mounts, or walking, every few hundred arrowflights. Even in the forest they made good time.
Four days until Belavil, the ancient capital of the spiridus. Every Landomeri went there at least once. Hadde had gone four years before. She wished she could explore the ruins again. But there was no time to spare. The Wasting made her journey too urgent.
Belor had been there several times—he always managed some excuse. He claimed the hunting was better there, but had never brought home the game to prove it. His arrows always just barely missed, or just barely nicked an intervening branch. But even he hadn't been there in over a year.
It would be nice to visit the ruins with him—although she wished the times could be different. That she could visit the ruins for pleasure, and not in passing while on a desperate task. The constant struggle to find food made for little time to be together. She loved the fleeting moments they shared. She smiled. They would—
“Stop, Hadde!” Belor called out too late.
Splashing hooves and flying mud startled her from her reverie. “Whoa! Stop!” she shouted as she pulled back on the reins.
Belor laughed from behind her. "You haven't been listening to a thing I've been saying, have you?"
Hadde frowned and scanned the forest around them. Blackened, dead trees tilted precariously from the sodden ground. Swaths of mud and muck divided fetid pools of black water. "Ummm...." She reddened. "You were talking?" Belor had stopped strides ago, at the edge of the pool.
"Yes, I was talking. I was mentioning that there shouldn't be a bog here." He laughed again. "What were you so deep in thought about?"
Hadde didn't reply, how could she? She scanned their surroundings instead. Except for the small sounds the horses m
ade, she was surrounded by silence. No birds sang, no creatures moved amongst the trees, no insect disturbed the surface of a single murky puddle.
“I—ah, wasn't thinking of anything in particular,” she replied. “What's going on here? I hunted here just a month ago. ”
“Landomere is dead here,” Belor replied. “Completely dead. I can feel it.”
Hadde shivered. “I know what you mean. It’s like when someone stands between you and a bright fire. There is no life here. No warmth. Let’s go, Belor. We have to get through this.” She tapped her heels against Lightfoot’s flanks.
For hours they trudged through the swamp. The oppressive weight of the dead landscape crushed her happiness at their earlier progress. The swamp seemed endless—as if she rode into the heart of the Wasting. The muck deepened and her hopes of ever reaching the other side faded. If she weren’t careful night would fall with them still deep in the mire.
“We have to turn aside,” she said. “There’s higher ground to the southeast. It will cost us a day, but I don’t want to spend a night in this swamp.”
“A little farther,” Belor said.
Hadde peered into the gloomy forest ahead. Shaking her head, she said, “There isn’t enough time.”
“This isn't just your choice, ” Belor said. "I know we just have to go a little further. I know it.”
“We don’t want to end up sleeping in this...”
“Just a little further.”
They rode another arrowflight when Hadde pulled Lightfoot up short. A scent caught her attention and an image of sunshine and growing trees flashed in her mind. She breathed deeper. The smell was familiar to her. She closed her eyes and saw the glade where she had discovered the golden chain.
Everbloom.
“Do you smell that?” she asked.
“I do.” Belor smiled. “It isn’t this dreadful marsh.”
Hadde surveyed her surroundings. Nothing but dead trees and sodden ground. But the scent of the flowers still lingered. The faintest of breezes blew from the northeast, and Hadde rode in that direction. Soon the ground became solid and she found herself on a path through the forest.
The narrow track ran almost straight, here and there widening to a stride or so. Green grass, bordered with swaths of white flowers, covered the path. Hadde smiled at the sweet smell. She glanced into the forest and saw that it hadn’t changed. Dead trees and marsh began at the path’s edge. Only those trees actually touching the trail showed any sign of life.
Dismounting, she knelt and touched the grass. Unlike the thin stalks that grew near Long Meadow, it was thick and full of life. Belor splashed up behind her.
“Look at this,” she said. “In the middle of the Wasting.”
“Just as I said.”
Hadde rolled her eyes. “Luck. We would have smelled the everbloom even if we had turned aside.”
“If you say so, mighty leader. You know what this is? A Spiridus Road—a path created by Landomere to guide the spiridus on their journeys.”
“You listen to too many elder’s tales.”
“Didn’t you follow a path like this to Belavil when you went there before?”
Hadde glanced at the trail. “No. I saw patches of flowers, but no trail like this.”
“Well, it’s a sign. Landomere is guiding us.”
She laughed as she changed her horses’ leads and mounted Windwalker. “I said it before—luck.”
“You were guided to that golden chain.”
She thought for a moment of the glade where she had discovered the pendant. Had the stag led her there on purpose? Or had it just been chance? “I don’t know. Spiridus magic is a little hard to believe in.”
“But—”
“Come on, Belor. There is still time left in the day.”
They slogged on, until finally the marsh broke, and they found themselves in living forest again. For three more days they pushed their horses toward Belavil. From time to time the dead bogs returned, but none was so great as the first. Landomere still resisted the Wasting, but the forest's time was short.
The crag of Belavil jutted from the forest floor. Terraces and paths wandered up its slopes and everywhere Hadde looked there were piles of stones that had once been the walls of houses and towers. Belavil was both magnificent and sad. She sighed as her eyes followed the broad avenue leading to the plateau and the greatest of the city’s ruins.
“We could spend the night in the ruins,” Belor suggested.
Hadde saw the hope in his eyes. She stared up at the ancient stones and longed to perch atop them and see the broad expanse of Landomere below her. “We don’t have time to tarry. We’d lose half a day.” She tapped Lightfoot and started for the road that would take them around the city.
Later, they set up camp in the shadow of Belavil. A gurgling stream let them clean the bog mud from their bodies. After eating and caring for their horses, they curled together next to the fire. “It will be cold tonight,” Hadde said. “This is a hard winter.” She stared into the flames. Belor held her close.
“There are ways of fending off the cold,” he said.
“Is that right?” she asked, smiling into the fire.
“It is. And I can’t imagine a nicer place.”
Hadde gazed up into the star-filled sky. “Except maybe up there, in Belavil.”
“I was thinking that earlier, but you wouldn’t let us go.” He traced his hand across her cheek.
She turned to look at him. “Were you, now? For three days you’ve not seemed to think much of me.”
“For three days you’ve been covered with bog mud.”
Hadde laughed and twisted into his arms. “You look better now, too.”
***
They were well on their way before first light. Beyond Belavil the forest was new to Hadde. It was as ancient as in the west, but rougher, with undulating hills and deep gullies hiding rushing streams.
For four days they continued northeast. The dead marshes persisted, but the flower-lined paths disappeared. These dead zones were worse than those they had seen before, some with mud so thick as to be impassible. Their trek would have ended if not for the high ridges paralleling their route.
Descending one of the hills, Hadde smelled smoke. She paused and peered into the forest. Belor stopped beside her. A white haze wafted through the trees. Lightfoot whinnied and Hadde stroked the horse's neck.
“Forest fire?” Belor asked.
“I don’t know. The smoke is widespread, but not thick. The wind is calm. If it’s a forest fire, it won’t move fast enough to trap us.” Riding forward, she undid the straps that held her bowcase closed. Fires were unusual in Landomere. Her people were much too careful. Strangers, however…
She glanced at Belor and saw him loosen his bow in its case.
The smoke thinned as the forest opened in front of them. Through the light haze she saw the outline of a village. Hadde rode to its edge and halted. Her heart lurched at the destruction in front of her.
“Was this Silver Spring?” Belor asked.
“I don’t know. Whatever Landomeri village it was, it’s destroyed now.” She thought of her parents. Was this what the raiders would have done to her home? Worry gnawed at her. “We shouldn’t have left.”
Belor edged up closer to her. “We’re a long way from Long Meadow. And our people are wary now.”
Half of the dozen cottages had burned to the ground. Smoke still rose from them and drifted toward the woods. Broken furniture, discarded tools, and shattered pottery lay scattered between the dwellings. She looked for any sign of life, but there was none.
Hadde saw a javelin embedded in the door of a cottage. She drew her bow from its case and nocked an arrow. “This didn’t happen long ago. Yesterday, maybe.”
“Where are the bodies?” Belor asked as he started into the village. He held his bow at the ready.
“Wait, Belor,” Hadde said. “We don’t know if anyone is still here.”
“It’s empty,”
he said and continued forward.
Hadde followed a few strides behind. Pools of dried blood stained the ground. Bodies had been cleared and heavy objects dragged across the dirt. Riding past one cottage, she leaned low and peered inside. Empty. Belor paused to glance into a home. Hadde rode past him toward the village green.
She stopped Lightfoot short as she emerged from between two buildings. On the ground before her rested a helm. She dismounted and fetched it.
“What is it?” Belor asked.
“Like yours, but wolf this time.” She held up the helm. “A different group of silver-eyes?”
He grimaced. “How many are there?”
She felt a knot of worry in her stomach. “Belor, what if they’re Saladorans? None of us have been to Salador for many years. What if this is what they have become?”
“No, they couldn’t… I don’t think so.”
Hadde stared at the helm. “In the stories they wear great helms and shining armor. They aren’t silver-eyed monsters.”
“We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose,” Belor said.
“I wanted to speak with the eastern Landomeri before we went on to Salador,” Hadde said.
“There will be other villages nearby,” Belor said, pulling his gaze from the helm and glancing uncertainly into the forest. “But we could lose days searching for them. I want to be on our way to Sal-Oras.”
“I don't know. Maybe we should find the nearest Saladorans and trade the gold for supplies. I want to get home to Long Meadow. We need to be there to protect them.”
“That isn’t our task,” Belor said, full of certainty. “Landomere wants more from us. That’s why she gave you the pendant.”
“Landomere didn’t ask anything of me,” Hadde replied. “Let’s do what we have to and go home.” She tossed the helm on the ground. “Before it’s too late.”
Chapter Five
“So, this is Salador,” Hadde said. Before her stood a huge two-story structure built of river stone and mortar. It was by far the largest house she had ever seen. But it, like most of the surrounding cottages, had partially collapsed years before. “I wonder if a king lived here.”
