Laedron watched Valyrie disappear into the tent. “When we reach the end of our journey, I fear that she may not return home with us.”
“If that’s the case, it wasn’t meant to be,” Brice said, lighting a twig by the fire.
“Oh, and you’re some kind of expert in the matter, Thimble?” Marac rapidly shook his head. “I’ve heard it all now.”
“Just watch what you say. Please, do it for me.” Laedron, not waiting for a response, went to his bedding and tried to get comfortable.
“Looks like I’m first up on watch,” Marac said.
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Onward to Laslo
Like the others, Laedron took his turn on watch, then slept until the morning rays woke him. He joined Marac by the fire and took some jerky when it was offered. “Should we wake up Brice?”
“Not just now.” Marac turned to look at Brice. “He was the last to sleep, and we can do the packing while he rests.”
Laedron nodded, and he glanced at Valyrie as she emerged from the tent. “Sleep well?”
“I suppose.” She stretched her back, rubbed her side, and sat next to Marac. “It’ll take me some time to get used to sleeping on the ground. Feels like I slept on a root.”
She’s taking this a bit too far, Laedron thought, watching her sitting at Marac’s side. Is she trying to irritate me, or does she desire a change?
Marac stood, then began taking down his tent. “According to the map, we can make Laslo by nightfall. If they have an inn, you’ll be spared the discomfort.”
After helping Marac dismantle the tent, Laedron did the same to the other, then carefully packed his belongings onto his horse. With all the commotion, Brice woke from his slumber, dagger in hand, as if he’d had a bad dream. He quickly returned the knife to its sheath, then rose.
“Antsy?” Laedron asked, looking over at Brice while strapping his bedroll to his horse.
“Noises in the night. I never worry about them when I’m behind a locked door, but out here, every creak and rustle puts me on edge.” Brice cleared his throat and straightened his clothes, then worked on packing his own gear.
Once the horses were loaded and the campfire had been stamped out, they mounted up and followed Marac to the road. Seemingly without a second thought, Marac took off across the bridge, leading them over the stream and into the thick wood beyond. Although the sun had risen and taken its place high in the sky, the canopy over the road made it seem like dusk. To Laedron, traversing the bridge and entering the wood seemed like crossing over into a whole other world, a place of danger and unknowing.
Like the previous day, Laedron heard little more than hoof beats on the trail, for he and his party didn’t speak. With the little survival training he’d had, he knew that engaging in conversation would dull their wits, making them less alert to their surroundings, and give away their position to anyone nearby who might be listening. It made the traveling harder, though, and they rode until noon without as much as a word between them.
“Whoa,” Marac whispered, pulling on his reins to stop his horse. He leaned forward in his saddle, squinting at the path ahead.
Laedron stopped next to him. “What do you see?”
“Something blocking the road. Either that or it turns suddenly. Hard to tell.”
Closing his eyes, Laedron listened to the forest, trying his best to ignore the horses’ idle stirrings. The fluttering of wings. Chirping of birds. “We can only go forward from here. ‘Tis the only road to Laslo.”
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Marac whispered, turning to Brice. “Be ready for anything.”
Like Marac, Brice pulled the shield from his back and affixed it to his arm, then Marac inched forward, peering at either side as he went. When they reached the block in the road, Laedron climbed down from his horse. A huge pine several feet in diameter had fallen there, prohibiting passage beyond that point.
“It’s recent,” Marac said, pointing at the limbs. “The leaves are still green.”
“Maybe we can find a way around. Surely there’s a way through.” Brice glanced at the trees. “There, to the right. An opening.”
Laedron walked alongside the tree to its trunk and found scratches and cuts at the base. Fresh cuts. Sap flowing from the nicks. His eyes widened, and he drew his scepter. “Too recent!”
Marac and Brice drew their weapons. When he raised his shield, Marac jerked his arm from the impact of an arrow strike. He hopped to the ground. “Down! Down! We’ll not withstand them on horseback.”
Laedron leaped from his horse. “Val, through there! Get out of here. We’ll find you after.”
Without a word, she snatched the reins and rode hard northeast. Laedron watched an arrow fly past her and strike a tree. He breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the cover of the woods. Brice landed on the ground, scurried to Marac’s side, and hid behind his shield. “A steep hill to our left. I saw an archer atop it.” Marac shoved Brice. “Why didn’t you tell me, Thimble? Want to see my head taken off?”
“I didn’t see it until you jumped down. Quit pushing me!” Brice shoved him back.
“Both of you stop it, or we’ll be killed for sure,” Laedron said, peeking over them.
Another arrow struck Marac’s shield. He stared at the point mere inches from his eye. “We’ve got to do something.”
Laedron couldn’t tell if Marac bore contempt or fear in his eyes. Probably both.
Another arrow dinged against Marac’s shield. “Damned bandits. They’ll hit us eventually.”
“I think they are hitting us,” Brice said.
“You know what I mean, Thimble.”
Laedron clenched his jaw and sneered at them. “Enough. What are our options?”
“Advance on their position.” Marac braced his shield arm with his other hand. “It’s uphill, but we can’t stay here and do nothing.”
Presenting his scepter, Laedron said, “Or escape.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Keep your shields up, and I’ll set a fire.”
Marac sighed. “You’ll burn the whole forest down that way.”
Brice dropped to his knees, and an arrow sailed over his head. “Better to lose the forest than our lives. Do it, Lae.”
“Wait,” Marac said, his eyes shifting, a plan clearly forming in his mind. “Can you summon a winter storm?”
Laedron took his head in his hands. “It’s unlikely to harm them. We don’t have time for theatrics.”
“Yes, but it’ll get them off of us. Summer suddenly turning to winter? It’d make me second-guess attacking whatever could do that.”
“If you like, but it’ll make things harder to burn if they keep shooting.” Laedron readied his scepter. “It won’t take them long to figure out that there’s a sorcerer over here, either.”
“I don’t care if they know we have a sorcerer. I don’t care if they think Azura herself has come down from on high.” Marac gritted his teeth. “Do it. It’s better than setting fire to half of Lasoron.”
Standing up halfway to see over his shield, Laedron pointed the rod toward the woods and chanted a spell of wintertime. Marac and Brice crowded in front of him, doing their best to shield him from the oncoming barrage. From the large ruby, silver and blue light erupted, draping the trees and the ground all around them with ice. Even though he could see little through the canopy, he noticed the sky changing from a vibrant blue to a somber gray. Snow clouds, he mused, waving the scepter from side to side.
Fewer arrows came their way the longer Laedron held the effect, and after a while, the snow flurries were the only things flying around. He strengthened the blizzard with his finishing words, then took hold of his friends by the shoulders. “Best get moving now. It will last a while yet, but not forever.”
Barely on his horse, Laedron yanked the reins to the right and took off in the direction he’d sent Valyrie. He drove the horse onward until its hooves flung dirt
and pine straw, the cold air replaced by the hot summer haze beyond his spell’s reach. When he cleared the trees, he felt the sting from the branches that had struck him in the face and the wetness of the blood on his skin. Funny. I hadn’t noticed them hit me on the ride here. His thoughts were cut short when he spotted her horse.
Riding over, Laedron first realized that Valyrie was nowhere to be found. The cliff was the second thing he noticed. He climbed down from his horse and ran to the ledge. If it weren’t for his eagerness to find her, Laedron could have spent hours staring at the breathtaking landscape, the rolling hills in the valley and the lush green treetops extending to the horizon.
“Val!” His voice echoed into the distance. “Valyrie!”
Marac and Brice emerged from the woods, and Brice stopped just short of the drop, his horse obviously riled at being so near the cliff.
“Help me find her.” Laedron held his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Val. Where is she?”
“I hear something… over here,” Marac said, scurrying to the ledge and falling to his knees. “Look, down there.”
Laedron ran to the edge, then dropped next to Marac. Never before had Laedron seen the kind of fear that Valyrie had in her eyes. Clinging to some exposed roots, she didn’t make a sound, as if even a muffled scream might cause the roots to give up their hold.
“We’re going to get you up. Just hold on.” He pulled out his scepter and chanted a levitation spell.
Before he could finish the incantation, he heard a snap. With a shriek, she fell.
Laedron’s instincts took over. Stepping off the ledge, he heard Marac shout, “Lae, no!”
His clothes flapping in the breeze, Laedron forced the incantation past his lips. The fear will have to wait. I must save her. I must. He stretched out his hand, the tops of the pines below fast approaching. Closer. Only a little closer. Reach, dammit!
Once their hands touched, Valyrie pulled at him, then wrapped her arms around his chest and climbed him in a frenzy.
“I can’t—” He struggled to get his mouth free, to finish the spell and save her, but her arm coiled around his head and neck like a snake constricting on its prey.
He pried at her arms with his free hand. “Va—” He knew that they must be close to the ground, but he couldn’t see. He tried to speak again. The words came out like a muffled scream. Peeling her arms over his head like a wet shirt, he broke loose long enough to shout the last word a few feet from the ground, slowing their descent.
Landing, he took a deep breath, but his knees buckled. He sat, then he lay on his back and tried to calm his nerves. Although he couldn’t see their faces, he imagined the looks Marac and Brice were giving one another at the top of the cliff. He turned his head to see Valyrie, her breathing panicked and her hair frizzled. “All right now?”
“All right?” She clenched one hand into a fist while snatching briars from her hair with the other. “We could’ve been killed.”
“But we weren’t.”
“I can’t catch my breath!” Grabbing her chest, she collapsed to the ground, using one arm to keep herself from falling flat.
He crawled over to her. “Just breathe. Take it slow.”
“Do you do this sort of thing often?”
“What, jumping off a cliff to save someone? No, not really, but in your case, I decided to make an exception.”
She gazed into his eyes. The look could have been anything—relief, happiness, or something else—but he was relieved that it was something other than anger and resentment. At the very least, it got her to relax.
“Ready to go back up?” he asked.
She nodded.
Waving the scepter in a circle around them, he wrapped his arm around Valyrie and cast his spell. His feet lifted off the ground. Ascending, he stared at the majestic beauty of the valley, the river and its rapids flowing south, and the deer running between the trees. He reached the top and saw Marac with a scornful glare on his face. Oh, dear. I’m going to hear it now. Perhaps I should’ve stayed down there a while longer.
“The next time you decide to jump off a cliff,” Marac said, his arms folded, “I’d appreciate a little warning.”
“Sorry.” Laedron released Valyrie once they had landed. “It’s what sorcerers—”
“Don’t give me that ‘it’s what sorcerers do’ bit. You scared the hells out of me with that stunt.”
Brice stepped between them. “All things considered, he did save her from the fall.”
“Oh, don’t you start now.”
Laedron put his arms around both of them, herding them away from the edge. “Friends, don’t let this drive a wedge between us. Marac, I’m sorry, but I had little time to explain.”
Marac nodded forcefully. “I just don’t want to lose you again. I can’t.”
“You won’t.” Laedron smiled, then gestured at the horses. “Shall we?”
“Yes, but we’re not going back to that damned road.” Taking hold of the reins, Marac climbed onto his horse. “If the trees grow away from this cliff the whole way, we’d do better to follow it to the village.”
“Agreed.” Laedron helped Valyrie onto her horse, then mounted his. “And hopefully no more bandits.”
With the open ground between the cliff and the woods, Marac quickened his pace at the lead. The rapid beating of hooves and the valley’s rim took them all the way to the end of the depression, and in the distance, Laedron spotted palisade walls. Laslo. It must be.
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The Middle of Nowhere
Approaching the village, Laedron kept a sharp eye on his surroundings. The wooden spikes, the high walls, and the barricades, all of it was meant to bar entry to outsiders and all fashioned from the fresh-cut pines. Is that what I think it is? he thought, staring at the black substance coating the tips of the spears. Old blood, the blood of dozens of battles. Who would charge against layers of spikes? Surely brigands are not that foolish. The village seemed like an enclave of civilization placed exactly in the middle of nowhere.
When he reached the front, the gates were shut, and a man stood atop the wall, a bow in his left hand and an arrow nocked in his right. His tunic—half green and half white—was emblazoned with a black griffin. A soldier of Lasoron. Perhaps too far to call to the Almatheren?
“You don’t look like bandits,” the soldier said. “What business have you in Laslo?”
Laedron pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a halt beneath the wall. “We wish to stay for a night. Nothing more.”
“And what will you do after that?”
“Move on. To the west,” Laedron said, imagining the cross expression the guard was probably giving him behind the plated helm.
“The road doesn’t lead west, boy. You plan to travel through open country to Kingsport or even as far as Paladum?”
“Not so far as that, no.”
“I suppose I should keep this gate closed to you, then.” The guard returned the arrow to his quiver. “Laslo has no need of madmen seeking to wander the wilderness. Why not get an early start and leave now?”
“Please, let us in, for the sun’s low in the sky. We have the coin to pay for all that we’ll need.” Laedron reached into his pocket and held up a sovereign.
The guard tapped the front of his helmet with one finger. “New coin? Could be helpful…”
“We won’t be any trouble. I swear it,” Laedron said.
“Very well, young man.” The soldier turned a crank, and the gate opened. “Tie your horses with the rest and meet me inside.”
Laedron urged his horse through the opening, and once his friends had passed the threshold, the guardsman closed the gate, then climbed down a ragged wooden ladder.
“I’m Sir Paldren, protector of this city.” The man extended his hand to Laedron once he had dismounted.
“Laedron Telpist of Sorbia.”
“Sorbia? You’re a long way off from
home, aren’t you?”
“Indeed.”
“What would a Sorbian want in the deep woods of Lasoron?” Paldren removed his helmet, revealing a salt-and-pepper beard and green eyes.
If I’m untruthful, will he be able to tell? Laedron considered the size of the small village and the remoteness. Would it matter if I told him? It’s not as if he could call upon anyone who might mean us harm from way out here. “We’re venturing to the ruins of Myrdwyer.”
“And why would anyone want to go to those ancient grounds?”
“Answers.”
“I hope you’re good at holding conversation with stones and moss, my strange friend.” Paldren gestured for him to follow. “Little remains there beyond broken rubble and old memories, a testament to Uxidin arrogance.”
“Arrogance?”
“They tried to build a city to stand forever, but they succeeded only in decorating the forest with broken buildings and overgrown roads. The great empires that remain today learned a lesson lost on the Uxidin: place all of your hopes in tomorrow, and you’ll find that the problems of today don’t take care of themselves.”
Laedron eyed the knight with curiosity. “Have you been there? Have you seen the ruins?”
“Yes, and it’s a place I won’t soon visit again. Nothing to be gained there. Don’t look forward to getting much sleep, either, if you tread that place.”
“No?”
“Sounds in the night. Whispers and moans float on the evening breeze like pollen in the spring. Ancient sorrows that never had healed from aching hearts long since forgotten, I’d say.” Paldren pointed at a row of small buildings. “The village’s families live in those row houses. You’d do best to leave them alone, for they don’t abide outsiders.”
“Then, you’ve seen the highway? The path leading to Myrdwyer?” Laedron asked.
“What remains of the road lies west of here. An arrow’s shot away from the west wall, you’ll find the base of a column made of marble, and what remains of the pavers will take you to Myrdwyer.” The soldier continued across the center of town and gestured at the tallest building in the village. “That’s the lumber mill, the lifeblood of these people. Next to it is the guardhouse, and then the stores. Brenner, our only merchant, operates the inn and adjoining shop at the end of the line.”
The Immortals of Myrdwyer Page 5
