"Well, we may be broken people, Gideon, but at least we're ourselves."
"Self-possessed? Like a certain Eagle Knight?"
"Enough with the matchmaking." Sebastian waved him off and went to check on the sails.
That night, at Gideon's suggestion, the group sang as they hadn't since Leothric's death. Viridia sang a ballad of the plains in the fallen bard's honor.
Horse and rider, sword and shield
All are gone to the green field
Man and woman, lad and lass
All are vanished into grass
Good and evil, right and wrong
Go to join the old green song
All that's light and all that's stain—
Rustling blades upon the plain.
Many others joined in, mostly with Taldan songs, but a few from Andoran. Sebastian encouraged it all.
"I shall retire," Merrigail said at last to Sebastian, but there was a faint smile on her face.
"May I assist you?" Sebastian asked.
"I'll be fine on my own, thank you." She paused. "But I do appreciate your courtesy, sir."
"Before you go, Commander," said Corvine, "let's sing something in your honor." And to Gideon's shock, she began to sing an Andoren military anthem.
Raise up the eagle! Bear it to the fight!
Common Rule forever, a beacon in the night!
We shall never bow to kings,
Never kiss their golden rings;
Raise up the eagle and fly unto the fight!
"I don't know the rest," Corvine admitted.
"I thank you," said Merrigail, with a hushed voice and a bow. Then she departed.
"A surprising song from a Taldan," Viridia said to Corvine.
"I like the tune," Corvine said, a little embarrassed. "Perhaps I'll adapt it."
Gideon looked to Sebastian, but the captain was silent, looking up at the murky gibbous moon.
Chapter Twelve
Wildwood Chant
Snow was falling over the Sellen the next day, when from the crow's nest the Andoren sailor Hammerton called out, "I see it!"
Even as he spoke, Riposte slipped around the riverbend and entered the great confluence of the Sellen and the Verduran Fork, the vast Isle of Arenway rising within.
It loomed in the snowfall, just as in old descriptions: a rocky promontory miles wide, its cove-studded cliffs ranging from heights of a few feet to a few hundred. Above this jagged gray majesty swarmed the trees—spindly pines, twisted oaks, green-draped willows, short trees and tall, spidery and straight. Beneath the trees lay verdant grass sprawling everywhere, even to the edges of the cliffs. Spires of rock reared above the woods and meadows, and low clouds weaved amid them.
Clouds, but not only clouds.
"Smoke!" called out Hammerton from his perch.
Gazes flocked to him and followed his outstretched arm. Smoke did indeed billow from around the island's curve, on its northwest side.
"The fort," Sebastian said. "Haste! Haste for landfall!"
"The fog?" Gideon said.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps river pirates have become bold."
As they rounded the island and came upon the River Guard pier, they beheld the fort.
Unlike the rest of the Imperial Navy, the Taldan River Guard concerned itself almost entirely with combating piracy, ensuring that the Sellen remained safe for trade. As a result, its fleet consisted primarily of small, fast ships able to track brigands to the tributaries and backwaters where they hid. With most of its strength distributed along hundreds of miles of river, the fort was deceptively small, little more than a walled harbor and resupply station, with barracks for soldiers.
It was also on fire. Men and women in Taldan livery ran bucket brigade, and seemed to be winning the battle against the several small blazes. Bodies lay upon the earth, slashed and pierced. A few of the soldiers turned and rushed the pier as Riposte hove into view, and Sebastian bade the weaponmaster aim crossbows at them until they proved themselves unarmed.
"We're not the traitors!" called one. "They've gone inland."
"What traitors? Explain yourselves."
"The fog, sir!" said another. "Foul mists enveloped the fort before dawn. Most of the Guard went mad—rampaging, burning. Even our own ships."
"When they'd had their fill of killing our own," said the first guard, "they talked of punishing the druids."
"Punishing them for what?" Gideon called.
"Better to ask what they weren't accusing the druids of, sir," said another. "Human sacrifice. Kidnapping children."
"Aiding river pirates," said a third. "Sending monsters against travelers."
"Giving Cassomir weak wood," said the first guard. "Plotting to have gnomes rule over us."
"Gnomes?" said Gideon.
"Some say they're too friendly with the druids. And everyone knows they're not quite natural. I..."
The man glanced over toward the smoking fortress and the score of bodies there. One was a gnome guard with his throat cut, staring blankly up at the sky.
"We have to warn the druids," Gideon said. "Corvine, can you call a bird with your magic and get it to deliver a message?"
Corvine shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. I can send them to you and Sebastian in Oppara because I've been there—I can give them a mental image. I've never seen the druids' lodge.
"They may already be aware," Merrigail said. "And they may be quite capable of handling this themselves."
"We can't assume that," Gideon said. "No matter what cosmic might you possess, scores of fighters with sharp pointy implements should give you pause."
"We've no means of signaling them," said Sebastian, "except by following the same path as the guards."
"When did they leave?" Gideon asked the survivors.
"Minutes ago, sir," said one.
"Then we still have a chance," Viridia said. "Aren't we Lion Blades trained to overcome obstacles? We can take a longer path but still outrun the guards with all their gear."
"We're not Lion Blades yet," Gideon observed.
"We can do it," Ozrif said.
"You go," Corvine said to Ozrif, Viridia, and Gideon. "Running was never my forte. I'll attempt to catch up."
"I and my knights will accompany Corvine," Merrigail said.
"Thank you," Sebastian said, squeezing the Eagle Knight's shoulder. She stared at his hand, but did not object. He pulled it back swiftly. "I'll help the people here. Good luck."
∗ ∗ ∗
They ran.
At first the three bards sprinted, the new snow powdery under their feet, their bodies eager for action after so many days of restriction aboard ship. Beside the river fort was a narrow area of cultivated land for feeding the guards, and the maddened warriors had already passed into the woods, an eager murder of crows squawking over their path. There was nothing to inhibit the trio from running as hard and fast as possible.
Then they reached the wall of trees.
Whether from nature or the guidance of the druids, the forest reared up in a sudden line, with no hint of cutting or burning to explain it. Branches scratched the bards, roots tripped them, fallen trunks required scrambling. Their pace slowed, and it was difficult to catch a glimpse of the sky. The snowfall came only here and there, in pillars of white motes. From time to time the crows' voices apprised them of the guards' location, and it was clear the Shadow School students were only just keeping pace.
As they paused for breath upon a vast stump beside a titanic toppled trunk, Gideon gasped, "I suppose...neither of you...took the wilderness class?"
"I'm...afraid not," said Ozrif.
Viridia shook her head. "Nope...and I'm a...plains girl."
Gideon crouched. He could see their breath turning to vapor, coiling here and there in the chilly air like a miniature version of their foe. "I grew up around woods, but it's been a while." He tried listening for the crows, and heard them to the left and perhaps a bit ahead. "I think we have to risk paralleling the road.
If we can get ahead of guards even a little, we can use it ourselves. Then we have a chance."
"Lead on," Viridia said. "You're the closest thing to a woodsman we have."
"Then we're in trouble." But Gideon wasted no time leaping from the stump.
He growled, the other two quietly matching him. Painfully, their speed increased.
The brown swath of the road now appeared in flashes of sunlight. Not far behind, they saw the shine of armor and weapons; yet at times the sunlight was muted, the road blurred by white wisps.
And now Gideon had a choice. The forest ahead grew rocky, and to dash around the rugged terrain would guarantee the bards would fall behind. Yet the alternative was to rush onto the road now, in sight of the frothers, or Smoke-Tongued, or whatever they were.
He paused long enough to point out the problem to the others. "Ready to run?"
"Of course," Viridia said.
"Life's a series of calamities...with laughter between," Ozrif said.
Gideon nodded and sprinted into the light.
"Druids!" came the screech. "Get them!"
"Bards!" Ozrif could not help shouting back. "Bards! Does no one care about accuracy in these benighted times!"
"Shut up and run, Ozrif!" Viridia shouted.
"You're beautiful when you're disgusted!"
"You have no idea how beautiful I'm about to be!"
An arrow hit the rocks to their left. Another hit the dirt to their right. Gideon's answer to the other two was to run as hard as he ever had in his life.
More arrows swished, though no one was hit. They crested a rise and ran pell-mell through a small gorge, which mercifully bent leftward and out of view. But the fog-maddened fighters' cries echoed among the rocks.
The bards were silent. They had no breath to spare.
Viridia at last had the proper venue to demonstrate her power as a runner, and she pulled ahead as they entered a new region. The land opened up before her, and its beauty was almost mocking. Green fields seemed to splash upon rocky valleys at either hand, and vast trees resembled orange-and-green pillars for the bright blue ceiling of sky. There was no sign of the Wildwood Lodge as yet, no fortress or building or even a tent.
Behind them, fog billowed down the crags like a polluted flood. Dark figures marched within. They possessed remarkable speed for armored men.
"Not sure we'll make it," Viridia called back.
"Look there," said Ozrif.
Gideon looked, and noted a ring of stone menhirs rising in a grove far to the left. The standing stones gave the impression of two vast granite hands rising with fingers poised to clasp the sky. A trace of smoke coiled through one of the gaps.
Another choice. They had no idea how far ahead the lodge lay. Perhaps there were druids among those stones. But if Gideon led the others that way, they'd never outpace the guards again.
"Let's go." Gideon darted off the road.
The bards reached the circle of ten great stones, and saw a single blue-robed old woman within, stirring the embers of a fire. The skin and offal of a rabbit burned within it. As she poked at the carcass, the woman hummed a low chant in a mysterious language.
She ceased. Without looking up, she said, "Many things that flee have crossed my path this morning. One brought me food. What will you bring?"
Gideon whispered to the others, "Perhaps just one of us should talk. You two can keep watch. I have a little experience talking to druids."
"You mean, you talked to Zaganos once or twice," Viridia said.
"I did say 'a little.'"
"Never mind," said Ozrif. "Let's watch out for our lunatic friends, shall we?"
Gideon stepped closer to the druid. "What do I bring? I bring knowledge."
There was a dry chuckle that Gideon at first mistook for the popping of the fire. "What knowledge could you bring a druid, boy? What knowledge that is not seen in entrails or written in ash, foretold by clouds, whispered by woods? What knowledge do you have that they do not?"
"Knowledge of the wickedness of humanity."
"You have my attention."
Gideon stepped beside the fire and lowered himself to his knees. "I am Gideon Gull, a bard of...Oppara."
The old woman nodded. She looked far too ancient to be out in the wilderness alone. Her eyes seemed hidden by wrinkles, what little hair remained on her head was like silver strings on a dulcimer, and her back humped like the hills beyond. "I bear both the name Estergraethe and the role of reading portents, though my burdens number far more than these. I hear you, Gideon Gull, bard of Oppara and other places you have not named."
"I've come to warn you. The river fort's been corrupted by an evil power. Most of the guards have been possessed. They're coming to kill your people."
Gideon thought he glimpsed some of the sardonic disdain he'd seen in Brother Zaganos.
"I had noted their advance beyond the bounds set for them. I wondered why they sought destruction. Now I know. Understanding is, in most respects, better than ignorance. I thank you for this. Is there more?"
"I fear you may not have quite grasped the 'coming to kill you' concept..."
"On the contrary. I understand killing very well. I have shared the gray horror of the cricket caught by the tongue of the frog, and I have known the red delight of the eagle grasping a fish. There are tiny things dying all around us, Gideon Gull, in the air, in the earth, in you and me. And tiny things always being born. If I die today, I will nourish many growing things, and it may in truth be a victory for life. But I do not think I will die today."
"They are many, and the evil force that compels them is strong."
"I already know all that I need to know about each of them. What all their yearning and striving and devotion and courage and despair at last come to. One word." She looked Gideon in the eye. "Soil."
And at the word, Gideon knew this was no joke, nor bravado. The druids would annihilate the attackers.
"I would've thought," he ventured, "that you who wield such power would disperse the fog that clouds their minds. Or else defeat its human puppets and spare the innocent."
"That seems considerable effort simply to blunt an attack. There are simpler methods. Lightning, for instance."
"You have no mercy?"
"Mercy is seeing one's self in a foe's eyes and knowing pity. We have no pity, least of all for ourselves. We do not seek others' deaths, but we understand that limits are part of every pattern. It seems more death today is necessary for the strength of the pattern we call 'Wildwood Lodge.' So be it."
"What if the Wildwood Treaty fell as a result?"
"Would it?"
"I think it a likely outcome."
"This seems an unfortunate event for Taldor. Not so much for us."
Gideon got to his feet. "I'm wasting my time."
"On the contrary, I am enjoying our conversation very much. It's intriguing to have a young, fast-moving, unrooted point of view upon which to test one's insights. I fear I'm not making much sense to you."
"I think I understand you well enough. You see the world as full of preservers and despoilers. It means nothing to you if a bunch of despoilers are slaughtered. Even if these people have names, and families, and dreams."
"You are not entirely incorrect. Yet I am not entirely unsympathetic."
"If so, then do something! I came here to warn your colleagues, but now I realize my true purpose is to save the Taldans. Tell the druids to spare them."
Estergraethe shook her head. "Even if I do, they will not."
"Gideon!" called Viridia, as she stepped into the circle. "They're ignoring us. Passing us by."
"We have to follow them," Gideon said. "The druids will destroy them. We need to make the soldiers stop."
"There must be a hundred," Ozrif said, joining them.
"Then we need to try very hard."
"Wait," Estergraethe said, holding up a hand. "I will not do what you ask, but there is something I can do for you nonetheless."
Mist filled t
he spaces between the menhirs—not the eerie, green-hued stuff of the fog that made men mad, but rather a calm, silent thing of simple vapor and innocent chill.
"Step through," she said, pointing at a space between two standing stones. "There."
Gideon looked at the others, cracked his knuckles, then walked into the mist.
He emerged into a sunlit snowfall upon a crest in the road. Ahead he could see the distant crags he'd so recently passed through, now many miles away. Behind, and downslope, lay the Wildwood Lodge.
It was no normal building. Dozens of caves dotted a rocky hill beside a sheer cliff. Below the cliff, a narrow, fjord-like inlet wound out of sight, no doubt making its way back to the island's coast and the river proper. Balconies of exquisite woodwork, the still-living branches contorted into symbols and faces and wild beasts, adorned the cave openings. From the top of the hill rose a snow-covered stone temple that seemed more discovered than built, although its doors were of fine cedar.
Twin rows of redwood trees converged upon the place, their trunks increasing in height until, like a pair of sentinels, the last two flanked the stone hill, soaring hundreds of feet. Spiral stairways of wicker and rope rose around the trunks, and here and there amid the snow-spattered branches Gideon could glimpse walkways and platforms.
Birds screeched in their thousands beyond the Lodge, vast constellations of them whirling in and out of view through the snowfall; the rocky cliff itself must be a rookery.
Yet although this avian life was much in abundance, no druid was anywhere to be seen.
Somewhere in Gideon's reverie, Ozrif and Viridia had appeared; how, he could not say. "We've been given a small advantage," he told them. "We've been brought many miles ahead, to where we can speak to the druids."
"Gideon," Viridia said quietly touching his shoulder. "It's a smaller advantage than you think."
He turned around. He realized he'd been fooled by a curve in the road into thinking the guards were far beyond.
Fog oozed around the bend. The mad ones followed. They were only minutes away. The sun was high within a blue rift in a cloudy sky. Moments ago it had been late morning.
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