by Speer, Flora
“I’ve heard the news. Poor Dyfrig,” he said. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Durand will be along in a few moments. I left him with Ilona; they deserved some time alone together.” Calia studied his face, noting how careworn he appeared. “You don’t have to return to Tannaris with me.”
“Of course I do.” He sounded angry. “Mallory did not drown in the harbor. You heard him; he wants that cursed Emerald and he won’t stop until he holds it in his wicked hands. He will follow us, and when he finds you, he will try to kill you.”
“Even so,” Calia began, but Garit cut her off.
“I failed Chantal when she needed rescue from a villain. I will not neglect to help another woman in similar danger.”
“I am not your responsibility.”
“Aren’t you?” He glared at her.
“I lied to you,” she reminded him, knowing he hadn’t forgotten. “I concealed important information that you had every right to know.”
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I now understand why? Calia, can you forgive me?”
“I ought to be asking the same question of you.”
“Perhaps we ought to agree to forgive each other.” Garit offered a slow, sweet smile that warmed Calia’s heart.
“On the dock today, when I thought we all might die,” he went on, “I realized that the greatest treasures in any man’s life are the people he loves. I had no time to think it through just then, mind you. I was rather busy with Mallory. But I’ve been sitting here, alone and quiet while I waited for you and Durand to finish your business with Laisren and Ilona, and I think I understand now.
“I dearly love my grandmother, difficult and demanding though she is and ever will be. I love my frivolous sister and my nephew, her son. I love my half-brothers, though I barely know them as yet. If I survive our next adventure, I intend to remedy my neglect of those boys.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Calia told him. “Belai and Kinen need you.”
“Especially with my grandmother in charge of raising them,” Garit added wryly. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Most of all, Calia, I love you.”
“You what?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.
“I love you. That is what I’ve been pondering here, in the queen’s garden. I intended never to love again after Chantal died, so I told myself over and over that I didn’t – I couldn’t possibly – care for you. And that belief of mine was the greatest lie between us.”
She was silent for a long time, perhaps for too long. Garit began to look worried.
“I have an obligation,” she began.
“I know,” he said, sounding angry. “You have promised to deliver the Emerald to Ultan, even though it rightly belongs to Domini Gundiac and ought to be handed over to King Henryk, so he can send it on to Gundiac.”
“Now, that is a matter of opinion,” Durand interrupted them. “The Emerald was discovered in Chandelar and it belonged to the mages there until it was stolen long centuries ago. Calia, surely you won’t break your promise to Laisren?”
“Never,” Calia declared with firm purpose. “I understand what’s at stake. I will carry the Emerald to Tannaris and give it to Ultan.”
“Or die in the attempt,” Garit said in a tone that made clear his displeasure.
“And then I will ask Ultan – no, I will beg him to return the Emerald to Domini Gundiac,” Calia finished.
“He won’t agree,” Garit protested.
“Nevertheless, that is what I intend to do,” she told him. “You may join Durand and me, or you may stay behind or return to Sapaudia to explain the situation to King Henryk. The choice is yours.”
“After what I’ve just confessed to you, do you actually expect me to watch you ride off into danger? I will go with you,” Garit grudgingly agreed.
“Good.” Calia smiled at him. “Thank you for not trying to change my mind. Not that you’d have succeeded, but thank you anyway.”
Chapter 23
The late King Audemer of Kantia had been famous for building roads. The two best-known, most traveled of all his construction projects were the long road from Kerun City to the Western Hills, and the shorter highway that led north from the capital to the Northern Border, the oft-disputed lands between Kantia and Chandelar.
When Dyfrig succeeded his older brother on the throne he decreed that the roads should be maintained as Audemer had established. Dyfrig also commanded that the guard stations located at intervals along the roads should be kept in good repair, for those stations were often the only places where travelers might rest in safety.
Kerun City sat in a wide bowl of flat land that gently sloped upward on three sides. The Western Hills were far away, but the mountains of the Northern Border were just a two-day ride along King Audemer’s straight, stone highway.
Laisren had sent a troop of men-at-arms to escort Calia and her friends through the mid-summer dusk as far as the first guard station. It was close to midnight and almost completely dark by the time they dismounted. A faint mist hovered low on the land, but directly overhead Calia could see stars. She sensed, but could not see the mountains a short distance ahead.
“We are to see you off at dawn, then we are to return to the city,” the leader of their escort said to Garit. “You’ll have to go on from here without us.”
“I know the way into Chandelar,” Durand told the man. “I’ve traveled between Kerun City and Tannaris many times.”
“Then you’ll know to beware of the outlaws,” the leader responded. “I’m not sure I’d take a woman through these mountains without a large escort.”
By that time Calia was too tired to worry over what might befall them the next day. The guard station was clean and she was given a private guest room on the second floor. She fell asleep the moment she laid her weary frame down in the surprisingly comfortable bed and she did not waken until a servant banged on her door just before sunrise.
At first the going wasn’t difficult. The morning was clear and pleasantly warm and the road sloped gently upward. By midday they were past the foothills, into the higher mountains, and there the road narrowed.
“It stops altogether just before we reach the Northern Border,” Durand told them when they paused to eat a bit and drink from a stream. “The last guard station is there and I think we ought to stop for the night. We’ll have a hard, cold ride tomorrow and the next day, so it’ll be best to start fresh, with the horses well rested. We will need to be on guard against outlaws, too.”
“Where will we stop tomorrow night?” Garit asked, scanning the mountains ahead with a frown.
“Tomorrow, we camp in the safest place we can find,” Durand replied. “But the following night we ought to be out of the mountains and into Chandelar. With any luck we’ll find a farmer who will let us sleep in his hayloft. That’s what I usually do when I travel this way.”
“Calia should not have to sleep in the open,” Garit protested.
“Oh, hush,” Calia said, laughing to make light of a situation she did not relish. “I knew when I agreed to make this journey that it would not be an easy one. I have to do this, Garit.”
“I know.” Garit heaved a great sigh, then offered his hand for Calia to remount. “Let’s move on.”
The last guard station was a rough place, built of stone to withstand the mountain winds, and the wooden staves that formed its roof were held down with large stones. The captain in charge of the place insisted that Calia take his room since there were no guest rooms, saying he didn’t mind spending the night in the barracks with his men. Garit and Durand rolled themselves into blankets and slept just outside Calia’s door.
Again they set off at daybreak, their saddlebags replenished with fresh, dark bread and wedges of the hard local cheese.
“You’ll not lack something to drink,” the captain said as he bid them farewell. “Any stream that’s this high in the mountains is safe for drinking.”
They left the three extra
horses behind, to be returned to the palace stables when the current troop of guards at the station was relieved. They had ridden those animals hard for two days and, as both Durand and the captain pointed out, they were going to have to carry food for the horses, grass being almost non-existent in the mountain heights.
The air grew thinner and colder as they climbed. Streamers of clouds sent occasional snowflakes drifting down on them. As the day ended Durand found a cave that he said he had used before. After gathering brush and dried branches they built a fire well back from the entrance in hope of not alerting outlaws to their presence. For the same reason they brought the horses into the cave.
“They’ll provide a bit of warmth, too,” Durand noted.
“Is this what you do each time you come here on King Henryk’s business?” Calia asked.
“I know the way well.” Durand flashed a grin at her. “It doesn’t seem like such a long ride with you two for company. I’ll take the first watch,” he added, unrolling his blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders. He moved past the horses to the entrance of the cave.
“Lie down near the fire,” Garit advised Calia. “I’m afraid you won’t be warm enough.”
“Where will you be?”
“Right next to you,” he answered. “If anything startles you, wake me.”
They lay side by side, Calia staring up at the curving stone roof of the cave. After a while she turned her back to the fire and found herself looking directly into Garit’s eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Oh, Garit.” She kept her voice as low as his. “I cannot promise anything until we reach Tannaris, because I have no idea what Ultan will expect of me next.”
“He cannot expect anything more of you than to deliver that cursed jewel at the risk of your life,” Garit muttered.
“You are right, of course. But even so, I feel obligated to fulfill this duty to Laisren before I go on with my life,” she whispered.
“I suppose Laisren put that notion into your head by magic.”
“If she did, I entirely agree with it. I will do as I promised, Garit.”
“Surely you know by now that I won’t try to dissuade you. Calia, you are as valiant as any honorable knight and I love you even more for your determination.”
“Do you?” When he stretched out his arms Calia nestled into them, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for saying that.”
His mouth touched her forehead first, then her nose and then, finally, he took her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that was so full of promise it almost made Calia weep. This was different from the passionate interludes she had shared with him aboard ship, when Garit was still ignorant of her true identity. This was a kiss between loving souls who knew each other well and knew they could depend on each other. Passion would return later, the kiss promised, after their journey was completed.
She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and she did not waken later, when Garit carefully settled her on her own blanket by the fire and went to relieve Durand at the cave entrance.
The fourth day of their journey dawned cold and grey, with occasional snow pellets and sleet to make their way treacherous. They reached the summit of the narrow path by midday.
“We are well and truly in Chandelar now,” Durand said. “From here on the streams flow northward; that’s what really makes the border between the two countries, not the artificial lines on a map that mark out the two sides of the Northern Border.”
After a brief halt to rest and water the horses they went on. Calia soon discovered that riding along a slippery downward path was far more difficult than riding up a mountainside. They went slowly, picking their way with care, mindful of icy patches. Durand rode first, then Calia, with Garit last.
No one said aloud what Calia believed they were all thinking. They had been remarkably fortunate to come so far without any accidents to humans or horses and without meeting the outlaws who infested the heights. Just a little farther, she told herself, and they’d be low enough for rain instead of snow, with the Plain of Tannaris ahead of them and a straight, easy ride to the capital city.
Even as she contemplated that prospect with rising spirits, her horse stumbled and fell.
“Calia!” Garit was off his horse and at her side, removing her feet from the stirrups and dragging her away from the thrashing horse. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just bruised and out of breath,” she gasped. “And shaking. I thought I was watching the way so carefully.”
“You were not to blame.” Durand had returned to where Calia sat on the ground with Garit’s arms about her while she tried to catch her breath. He dismounted, strode a few steps along the path, then came back to throw down two pieces of a thin, almost colorless rope. “This is what tripped your horse.”
“But I was following directly behind you,” she said. “If the rope was blocking the path, why didn’t you—” She stopped, looking around at the jagged rocks, her heart beating wildly.
“My horse activated the mechanism when we passed it,” Durand said. “Tripping the second horse in a group causes more confusion. The first rider will turn back, and it’s a narrow trail.”
“You are saying that outlaws did this,” Garit said. “Come on, Calia, get up and onto my horse. Yours has a broken leg. Durand, start down the path. Calia, go with him and stay close. I’ll put this poor animal out of its misery and then I’ll follow you on foot.”
“Garit, no! I can’t leave you!”
“Yes, you can!” He seized her around the waist and tossed her up into his saddle. “Don’t forget what you are pledged to do, why we are on this journey.”
“Garit, wait!”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
He slapped his horse on its rear. Durand, already remounted, caught the animal’s bridle and tugged. They started along the path, but they rode only a short distance before a ragged, bearded man leapt from a high rock onto Durand’s back.
Scarcely had Calia realized they were under attack by outlaws when she was knocked off Garit’s horse and onto the ground by a man who grabbed the reins of both their remaining mounts and rode away with them.
She struggled against a second man whose rank body odor assailed her nose, sickening her. He slapped her, pulled the long braid of her hair, and banged her head against a rock. Her senses swam, sound and pain growing dim, until she heard Garit shouting.
She forced herself to lie quietly, without resisting the man who knelt above her, not even when he raised a gleaming knife above her chest. In those precious few moments she gathered her Power, then loosed it upon him. The knife flew out of his hands and the man fell backward and lay still.
Released from his weight, Calia scrambled to her knees, looking to Garit. He wasn’t very far away and the blade of his sword dripped red. Two of the attackers were down. Both appeared to be dead, or at least unconscious from their wounds. Durand was on foot once more, fighting off an outlaw and a pair of snarling dogs.
“Calia!” Durand stretched one hand toward her. “Link with me. Hurry! Someone with Power is coming.”
She sidled in his direction, keeping her back against the solid rock so no one could sneak behind her. She felt Durand’s hand warm and strong in hers. Immediately, she experienced the joining of their Power, not as great as when Laisren was with them, but large enough, strong enough to meet almost any opposing force. The man Durand had been fighting and the dogs all went down.
Calia knew in the innermost recesses of her mind where her Power originated that the approaching enemy was Mallory, and she realized that Durand knew it, too.
Mallory moved up the trail at an almost leisurely pace, as if he and his black horse had nowhere special to go.
Garit had dispatched the last of the outlaws and now he sprang to Calia’s side, his bloody sword in hand. Mallory ignored him.
“Greetings, sister.” Mallory’s horse pawed the rocky ground and snorted. “I thought I’d find you along the way.�
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“How did you come so far from Kerun City, so fast?” Garit demanded.
“Calia,” Mallory said, still ignoring Garit, “if you want to continue living, and if you want your friends to live, hand over the Emerald.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Suddenly, Calia was fighting off the onslaught of corrupt Power that Mallory aimed at her. She withstood it firmly, knowing he couldn’t hurt her so long as Durand was linked with her.
“Defy me,” Mallory threatened, “and I’ll turn you over to my friends. They are all around you, hiding amongst the rocks, awaiting my signal to strike.”
“You don’t have any friends,” Garit declared, lifting his sword. “No one can trust you long enough to become friends with you. Ahhh!”
Calia winced, feeling how Mallory’s Power slammed Garit against the rocks and tore the sword from his grip.
“Leave him alone!” Calia screamed. She would have rushed to Garit’s side if she weren’t restrained by Durand’s hold on her. The thought Durand sent to her silenced her protests. She knew Durand was correct; they must stop Mallory before anything else.
She could feel Mallory’s Power working on her mind, making her want to reach into the pocket concealed in her skirt and pull out the Emerald, to hand it to him.
If you do, came Durand’s thought, he will kill all of us, or give us to the outlaws to kill.
She fought even harder against Mallory, whose Power was surprisingly strong considering how thoroughly Laisren had drained it just a few days ago.
Four days, Durand’s thought reminded her. Long enough for an evil mage to recover. Now, fight, Calia. Fight!
She summoned strength she’d not realized she possessed and directed all of that strength against Mallory, as Durand was directing his Power.
She was only dimly aware of Garit shaking his head as if to clear it and she knew Mallory had loosed hold of him. Garit picked up his sword to engage still more outlaws who were descending upon them as Mallory had predicted, swarming over rocks and down from high ledges until Calia and her friends were surrounded. Then she sensed another entity, a wild, uninhibited creature.
