by Simon Brown
“How are you feeling?” Kumul asked.
“As though someone has pulled me apart and then clumsily put me back together again. What do we do now?”
“It’s too late to descend Ebrius Ridge. We should move to the trees where there is some cover and we can use the leaves to keep us warm tonight. I don’t think it would be a good idea to start a fire. From this height they will see the smoke as far away as the city.”
Kumul walked over to where Ager was sleeping and roused him. The crookback got to his feet and stretched his arms. “I needed that nap,” he said congenially to no one in particular.
The four of them made their way to the ridgeline and moved down the northwest slope for a league or so until they came to a small dell that offered some protection from a freshening evening breeze whistling in from the bay. They gathered together four large mounds of leaves and settled down to sleep, hungry and still exhausted from the day’s efforts.
It seemed to Lynan that no sooner had he closed his eyes than he was being shaken violently out of his slumber. It was Jenrosa. The sun had gone down, and the land was cloaked in the soft darkness of night. He opened his mouth to say something rude, but she clamped a hand over it and indicated for him to keep quiet. He nodded and she removed her hand, then motioned for him to follow her. She led the way to the lip of the dell, where Ager and Kumul were lying, staring out into the dark.
Lynan looked inquiringly at Ager, but the man shook his head and cupped a hand behind one ear. Lynan tried to listen for whatever it was that had disturbed the others. After a few seconds he heard a distant scrabbling sound, as if someone was pulling a rake across the forest floor. When he heard the sound again a moment later, it was definitely closer. He felt a tingle pass down his spine when he realized he was hearing a great bear snuffling among the autumn leaves, probably following their scent.
Lynan had only seen one once before, when Usharna had consented to his coming on a royal hunting party on Ebrius Ridge. He had vague memories of how big great bears were, twice as tall and twice as wide as a large man, with muscles like steel coils covered by bristly, brown fur. Their muzzles were filled with large pointed teeth; their claws longer and sharper than butchers’ knives. He had been told that given enough warning a man could outpace one, but that the creature’s turn of speed was remarkable for its size and over a short distances a great bear could easily catch the fastest human.
Again that shuffling sound, closer yet. Lynan could smell something heavy and musty in the air, something that caught at the back of this throat.
“It’s definitely headed this way,” Kumul whispered. “It has our scent, and is moving back and forth to pin it down.”
“Nothing for it, then,” Ager said. “Our only chance is to set an ambush. But to do that we have to get out of the dell.”
As best they could in the dark, the two men scanned the immediate area for a likely site. Kumul pointed to a broad golden fan with low branches about forty paces away on the other side of the dell. Ager nodded, and the four of them ran to it. The branches were numerous and sturdy enough to hold them all, and within a few seconds the entire party was perched in the tree like a family of giant birds, armed only with their knives. Lynan tried desperately to slow his yammering heart, convinced it was loud enough for the bear to hear whether or not it had their scent.
A short while later it came into view. It broached the lip of the dell and jumped forward, landing on all fours. Its snout weaved from side to side. It started keening, obviously disappointed no prey was yet in sight. It reared up onto its hind legs, made a sound that rose to a curiously high-pitched scream, and sniffed the air around it. Curved, yellow teeth glinted in the moonlight. The bear fell to all fours again, and shambled forward, crisscrossing the dell until it regained the scent. With a satisfied snort it headed for the golden fan.
Lynan’s stomach knotted itself into a painful mass and his mouth went dry. He tightened his grip on the knife and found himself wishing fervently to be somewhere else—back on the cliff face for example. The bear was soon directly under the tree, obviously confused that the scent was once again lost. Before it could look up, Ager, screaming the ear-piercing battle cry of the Kendra Spears, leaped from his perch onto the beast’s back and drove his dagger straight between its shoulder-blades. At the same time Kumul dropped in front of the creature and slashed at its head, cutting it across the snout.
The bear reacted immediately and with astonishing agility for something its size. It roared and swung round in a wide arc. Kumul caught the full force of the bear’s weight and was flung away like a rag doll, his weapon spinning out of his hand. Ager slid down the spine of the bear and landed on his rump, his dagger still stuck between the creature’s shoulder-blades. It turned again, looking for Ager, its jaws opening in a wide gape, blood streaming from its wounds. In doing so, it came directly under Lynan’s branch and he dropped onto its back, using all his strength to drive his knife into the tough hide where neck met shoulders. The blade hit bone, skidded off. The bear shook its head, throwing off Lynan as easily as it had dislodged Ager.
Jenrosa had also left the tree by now and hurried to Kumul’s side. The bear saw the movement and charged toward her. Seeing her danger, she swung up her weapon, catching the beast another blow across its snout. The bear screeched, lashed out with one foreleg, and connected with Jenrosa’s skull, sweeping her aside.
Lynan shouted in rage when he saw the magicker struck down, and he lunged forward, thrusting his knife into the thigh of one of the bear’s massive rear legs. This time the point found muscle rather than bone and it sank deep. Dark, warm blood spurted over his arms and face. The bear lifted its wounded leg and kicked. Lynan dodged the blow, darted in again to retrieve his weapon and struck again. By now Ager had caught his wind and he leaped again onto the bear’s back, pulling out his blade and plunging it a second time between the shoulder-blades. This time he found an artery. The bear reared up on its legs, tottered for a second, blood pouring from its mouth, then fell forward and was still.
For a moment there was silence. Lynan dared not move in case the bear suddenly came to life again. The aftershock came soon after; his hands and thighs began to shake uncontrollably. Ager came to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Well done, Prince Lynan. Are you hurt?” Lynan shook his head. “Then see to Jenrosa, and I’ll check Kumul.”
Lynan went to Jenrosa and knelt down beside her. A wide, vicious-looking cut ran raggedly across her forehead. Blood streamed down her pale face and into her sandy hair, turning it dark. He tore off a piece of cloth from his own shirt and pressed it against the wound. After a while the flow of blood was staunched. He lifted the cloth carefully and inspected the wound. A large purple welt surrounded the cut. He put an ear to her mouth and listened to her breathing. It was slow but steady.
He was joined by Ager and a battered Kumul, carefully rubbing his left arm.
“How is she?” Kumul asked.
“Unconscious,” Lynan answered. “The blow was a heavy one. At least the bleeding has stopped. I think she needs a surgeon. How are you?”
Kumul shrugged, winced in pain with the motion. “At worst a cracked rib or two, at best I’m badly bruised.”
“I can make a sling for you,” Ager told his friend. “As long as you don’t use your left arm, you should heal quickly enough.”
Kumul nodded at Jenrosa. “And her?”
“She needs a surgeon,” Lynan repeated. “There are towns in Chandra not far from this ridge. We’ll have to take her to one of them.”
Kumul and Ager said nothing, but the expression on their faces said enough.
“She needs help!” Lynan argued. “You can see that for yourselves!”
“We can’t risk it,” Ager said grimly. “If we go into a town, someone is bound to report seeing us, and then we’ll have a company of Royal Guards in pursuit, probably led by someone in Dejanus’ pay, if not Dejanus himself. What do you think will happen to Jen
rosa if we are apprehended?”
Lynan looked down, knowing the man was right, and hating himself for knowing it.
“Look, lad, we don’t know the injury is that serious,” Kumul said gently. “Jenrosa could be up and about in an hour. Her only chance—our only chance now that we’re back on land and so close to Kendra—is to keep moving and to stay away from places where we’re likely to be recognized. If her injury’s serious, I think Jenrosa would rather be in our hands than the enemy’s.”
“We’ll have to carry her,” Ager said matter-of-factly. “She may not come around for a while.” He used his knife to hack two long branches from the golden fan and tied his and Kumul’s cloaks between them, then he and Lynan carefully lifted the magicker onto the crude stretcher and placed her own coat over her to keep her warm.
“Kumul can’t help in his condition, and we’ll soon tire out moving her by ourselves,” Ager told Lynan. “So one of us will drag her along. We’ll have to move slowly, though, especially going down the ridge.”
“There are many streams at the bottom,” Kumul said. “We can stop at one of them. We will need water and rest and should hide during the day.”
“I’ll go first,” Lynan said, lifting up one end of the stretcher. Jenrosa’s weight sank in the middle, keeping her in place. Her face was white and pinched, but the cut on her head was dry now and her breathing was still regular.
They started off slowly, Ager leading the way, Lynan in the middle pulling along the stretcher, and Kumul last. The dark made it impossible to always pick the best course, and they frequently had to backtrack to find an easier route, especially for the first few hours when they were still climbing to the top of the ridge. Every hour Lynan and Ager took it in turns to pull the makeshift sled.
By dawn they had reached the northwest foot of Ebrius Ridge and saw spread out before them the farmlands of Chandra. Fields covered the land to the far horizon in a patchwork quilt of rich greens. Here and there, meandering streams, isolated woods, and small villages broke up the pattern, and over it all shone the light from a strong summer sun.
It was mid-morning before Jenrosa made any sound at all, and then it was only a soft murmur. Her eyelids fluttered restlessly but remained closed.
“I think her color’s returning,” Lynan observed hopefully. “She’s definitely looking better.”
“I don’t know how you can tell with all those freckles, but I’d look better, too, if someone had just carried me for ten leagues,” Kumul said dryly.
They were following a narrow dirt track that led between fields of growing crops. Ager was scouting ahead, keeping his single eye out for any strangers or soldiers, as well as a safe site for their next break. Whoever had made the trail had thoughtfully planted tall wideoaks along it to provide shade, and the air was filled with the sound of singing birds and calling crickets.
“On a day like this, it’s hard to believe that anyone would want to kill us,” Lynan said sadly. “In fact, it’s hard to believe that anyone in the world is in trouble.”
“Don’t let your imagination get carried away, your Highness. You’d bleed just as red and die just as easily on a day like this as you would on any other. If you need reminding, look behind you and think how Jenrosa’s probably feeling.”
“Do you think she can hear us?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“She is looking better, you know.”
Kumul only grunted. Ager appeared up ahead at the top of a small rise. He was running toward them in his rolling crookback stoop. When he reached them, he was out of breath and red from exertion. “There’s a troop of mercenaries up ahead. They’re still a league from here, but we haven’t much time. There’s a stream over this rise. We can hide among the vegetation along its banks.”
Ager grabbed the other end of the stretcher and they moved as quickly as possible, Lynan telling his weary muscles to hold out for a while longer. By the time they reached the stream, a narrow ribbon of cool clear water, they were panting heavily and their hearts were beating like drums on a racing galley.
The trail crossed the stream at a narrow ford and continued on the other side of the bank, ascending gently to another rise. On either side of the stream there grew drooping spear trees and busy wideoaks. The companions made their way downstream into the thickest part of the gallery, carefully maneuvering their burden. They had barely enough time to hide themselves behind branches and two fallen rotting trunks before the troop arrived, ten riders, their fine gear jingling as the horses trotted down to the ford. Lynan cursed silently when they stopped at the stream to let their horses drink. The two nearest them were complaining about being taken from their billets at a local village.
“I was getting on fine with that widow who owns the farm by the dairy,” one said. “She needs a good man to help her run the place. Another few weeks and I’d have been cashing in to take up life on the land.”
“I didn’t know you were so keen on dirt and weeds,” said the other.
“Better than war and death.”
“What war? Grenda Lear ain’t been at war for fifteen years or more.”
“I got ears. I heard the sergeant talking to the messenger who came yesterday and Haxus was mentioned often enough. Besides, we’ve got a new king, remember? There’s bound to be trouble now that Usharna’s dead. All the kingdom’s enemies were terrified of her.”
“Berayma will teach them to be terrified all over again, mark me.”
“Aye, and that’s my point—”
“All right, keep the chatter down,” said an authoritative voice from the other side of the ford.
So rapt had he been in the troopers’ conversation that Lynan had completely forgotten about his charge, and he started when Jenrosa let out a low moan of pain. He quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, making sure he left her nose free to breathe, but it was too late. The nearest trooper looked alertly in their direction, then turned to his friend.
“Did you hear something?” he asked.
“No,” the other said, not really interested. He had pulled down his breeches to piss on the bank.
“I said to keep the chatter down!” complained their leader.
“But I heard something, Sergeant!”
“Probably a vixen with cubs,” the sergeant replied gruffly. “And we haven’t time to dawdle. We’re expected in Kendra by nightfall.”
The trooper’s face drooped sourly, and he mounted his horse. “I’m sure it wasn’t a fox.”
His friend pulled up his breeches, mounted and drew alongside him. “Perhaps two young lovers, eh? Not everyone’s in a hurry. Just think about your widow and the trail ahead. No point in pissing off the sergeant.”
By now their fellows had already left the stream and the two friends had to spur their horses to catch up.
Lynan was about to move when Ager grabbed him by the arm. “Wait,” he whispered. “The talkative one may double back for another look-see.” A few minutes later, when no one had reappeared, Ager released his grip and nodded. “All right, it looks like we’re safe.”
Lynan took his hand from Jenrosa’s mouth; she mumbled some words, but he could not make them out.
“She’s talking,” he said excitedly.
“She nearly talked us into a grave,” Kumul said tartly.
“If what those troopers was talking about is true and not rumor,” Ager said, “we won’t be able to take the most direct route to the Oceans of Grass. The highways and rivers will be busy with soldiers and supplies pouring into major cities.”
“But there was no talk of war after my mother’s death,” Lynan said, puzzled.
“More likely Areava’s just being cautious,” Kumul said. “She should expect some trouble on her borders, especially with Haxus to the north. So she would call in the nearest soldiers and send them out by sea.”
“Or, just as likely,” Ager added, “start a war to divert attention from the goings-on in Kendra. Three rulers in as many weeks is bound to cause a stir wit
h more than the kingdom’s enemies.”
“Then what route do we take?” Lynan asked.
“That’s going to take some thought,” Ager admitted. “For the moment, I suggest we find a place where Jenrosa and Kumul can recover. We can’t keep on like this, two of us struggling with a stretcher. We’ll finally get caught out in the open. We need a new plan and time to think it through.”
“But where?”
Ager looked around him. “This is as good a place as any. We have fresh water and there’s fish in the stream. The trees will provide cover and shade, and we can keep an eye on troop movements from here.”
Lynan nodded. “All right. I can’t think of anything better.”
Kumul pointed upstream. “We’d better move first. We’re too close to the ford, and we can keep an eye on it just as easily from another hundred paces farther upstream and be in less danger of discovery ourselves.”
They fashioned rough tethers out of green twigs from a spear tree, and even rougher pegs out of wideoak, using them to construct a reasonably waterproof shelter by gathering together branches and pinning their ends to the ground. By using twine unthreaded from his cloak and a thorn from a nearby whip tree, Ager made a clumsy but nonetheless usable fishing line. They risked a fire that afternoon, cooking Ager’s whole catch of small fish in one go. The next day, Lynan and Ager took turns to reconnoiter the area while the other attended Jenrosa. Lynan had dressed the wound on her scalp as best he could and kept it clean, and was relieved when no infection set in. At first, she would eat nothing, drink only what was dribbled between her lips, and made hardly a sound. On three occasions she mumbled more words, but still they made no sense. Around noon, she regained consciousness, to everyone else’s great relief. They made a fuss over her, offering her water and a little fish and some berries Ager had found on one of his explorations; she gratefully ate what she could but fell asleep soon after. Her color was almost normal, however, and Lynan was sure she would be up and ready to move within a few days.
