by Simon Brown
Lynan dabbed some on experimentally. The wound and the tips of his fingers became numb almost instantly. He handed the bottle back with thanks.
“Will you be all right by yourself? I have to find us something to eat.”
“We should have taken some of the dead jaizru with us. They make a good stew.”
Lynan’s face wrinkled in disgust. “After what happened this morning, I could never eat one.”
“But they were prepared to eat you; it is only just to eat them in turn.”
Lynan did not have to search far for food. He found berries and nuts and a colony of mushrooms, and on his way back discovered the white flowers of honey tubes. The pair ate quickly, then drank their fill from the stream.
“This crest is near the middle of the Ufero Mountains,” Gudon told Lynan. “I came east this way many, many years ago. If we continue northwest, we will stay under cover and find plenty of streams and food until we get to the other side of the range.”
“And then what?”
“From there, you must decide what to do next. I must go to the Oceans of Grass. It is time for me to go back to my people. But you can head north to Haxus or back south, if you wish.”
“I was taken from friends. They will be looking for me.”
“Where were you headed?”
“The Oceans of Grass.”
Gudon looked surprised. “It is rare for people from the south to go there.”
“We had our reasons,” Lynan said darkly.
“I do not doubt it.” Gudon slapped Lynan’s shoulder. “Then we must go on together. Your friends will come and look for you there.”
“Not if they think I’m dead.”
“If they truly are your friends, they will know you are still alive, little master.”
“Please, Gudon, stop calling me that. I am not your master.”
Before Lynan could react, Gudon reached out and put his hand under Lynan’s shirt and brought out the Key of Union. “Forgive me, but you are wrong.”
Lynan grabbed it back and hid it again. “How did you know…?”
“When the beneficent master brought you aboard my barge, the Key was hanging loose from your neck. I recognized it, of course. What Chett wouldn’t? It is the symbol of your family’s rule over us. I must have looked too hard, for Prado struck me down.”
Lynan retreated from Gudon. “What will you do about it?” he asked suspiciously.
“What I am doing now. Helping you get to safety.”
Lynan swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have learned to trust very few.”
“Then if you learn to trust me, I will count it as an honor… your Majesty.”
Lynan shook his head. “No. I am not king. My sister, Areava, rules in Kendra.”
“So we on the river had heard,” Gudon said carefully. “I will not apologize for calling you what I did, but best I take you to my people. There are those there who will grant you refuge, and perhaps more.”
“More?” Lynan asked, his heart skipping a beat.
“I cannot say. You must go and see for yourself.”
They set off again as soon as the horse had rested. The ground became rockier and their going slower. The trees closed in around them and the air became heavy and moist.
After a while, Lynan said: “How long did you pilot a barge?”
“Oh, many years. My youth was spent on the river.”
“But you did not set out to be a pilot?”
“No. I did not know how my journey from the Oceans of Grass would end. Destiny made my feet follow the path to the Barda.”
“Destiny and instruction,” Lynan said quietly.
“Now what can the little master mean by that?”
“As a pilot, you have reason to travel between the capitals of Hume and Chandra, you listen to gossip and tales from your passengers, you see what cargo is being carried, including the movement of armies, and you have an excuse to talk to travelers.”
Gudon smiled easily. “Destiny takes many shapes and forms. In my case, it was not a king but a princess, although she is a queen now. And it is my turn to ask you your question: what will you do about it?”
“What I am doing now,” Lynan replied without trying to hide the irony. “Helping you get to safety.”
The pilot saw the deserted barge and swore loudly. Kumul stood up to see what the problem was.
“Poor Gudon!” the pilot wailed. “He did not deserve such a fate!”
By now Ager and Jenrosa were standing as well. It did not take them long to see what the pilot was keening about.
“Is that…?” Jenrosa started, but could not finish the question. She did not want to know the answer.
“Take us closer!” Kumul told the pilot.
“I do not dare! See the spear trees, and how some of their branches end below the water? They are holding jaizru nests! If we get too close, they may attack us as well!”
“Take us closer, damn you!” Kumul ordered, and went astern to make sure she obeyed his order.
The pilot started her wailing again but gently eased her vessel closer to the bank. Ager climbed the bow gunwale and peered into the abandoned barge. “It’s a fucking mess,” he said. “I see at least two dead horses.”
“Any bodies?” Jenrosa asked.
“It’s hard to tell. The deck is covered in blood and dead eels. Maybe one… no, two! Get us closer!”
The pilot shook, but under Kumul’s glowering stare pushed harder on the rudder. Ager asked Jenrosa to hold on to his coat as he leaned even farther over the water. “One is too tall to be Lynan. The other… I just can’t tell. There is not enough left of the face and too much blood to tell by the clothing.” Jenrosa pulled him back in and the two of them joined Kumul astern.
“We must get off,” Kumul said.
Just then the water boiled to the starboard and several shapes, black and red with teeth like shears, flew out of the river. They landed just inside the barge and flopped uselessly on the deck, all the while trying to bite whatever was in reach. The three companions jumped back. The pilot kicked the rudder and pulled on the sheets. The barge lurched and then slid into the middle of the river.
“I am not stopping here, even if you cut me with your sword,” she told Kumul, her eyes wide in fear.
“She is right,” Ager said, his voice taut. “The river is too shallow here for the barge to get close enough to the bank. We would have to wade through the water, and probably all be dead before our feet touched dry land.”
“But what of Lynan?” Kumul cried. “What if he is still alive? He could be on the bank somewhere, needing our help…”
“If Lynan survived the river, he is either dead from loss of blood or long gone from here, in which case we will have to find his trail and follow it.”
“Where is the closest point we can disembark?” Jenrosa asked the pilot.
“About three leagues from here if you want to take your horses with you.”
“But which side of the river?” Kumul asked.
“I do not think he would have survived if he tried to swim for the eastern bank,” Ager answered. “The eels would have had more than enough time to finish him off. If he is alive, he is somewhere to the west of the Barda.”
“Then that is where we go,” Kumul said.
The barge seemed to take hours to reach the disembarkation point, but the sun had still not reached midday when the pilot pulled over and dropped anchor. The planks were not quite long enough to reach land, and the horses had to be pulled and pushed up the slippery bank. They left one of the horses with the pilot as payment.
“I did not take you to Daavis as agreed,” the pilot said, and gave them two days’ worth of food to make up the difference. “Journey well. I hope you find your friend.”
Less than an hour later they reached the clump of spear trees and the deserted barge with its cargo, already starting to stink under the hot sun. They quickly found the prints of two humans and a horse.
“I think these are
Lynan’s,” Ager said. “They are too small for Prado or one of his men.”
“These ones are long, but the stride is short and there is much blood,” Kumul said.
“It could be the pilot,” Jenrosa suggested.
“Or not,” Ager answered grimly.
Kumul followed the second set of prints to a thicket of thorn bushes. “The tracks meet here, then Lynan’s set off west…” He stopped and stooped to the ground “… and come back again… and then set off once more, but the impression is much deeper. He is carrying something heavy.”
“The other survivor,” Ager said, joining Kumul. “Then Jenrosa is probably right. It must be the pilot. He would not bother to carry Prado or one of his men.”
“But Prado had two men with him,” Jenrosa pointed out. “Where is the last of them?”
Ager shrugged. “Dead in the river, most likely; probably nothing more than a skeleton now.”
With hope rekindled in their hearts, they followed the tracks west for half a league on foot before rediscovering the horse’s trail.
“They are riding west,” Ager said, and pointed to the crest in the distance. “They are heading for the woods.”
“Smart boy, that Lynan,” Kumul said under his breath. “They can’t be more than four hours ahead of us.”
“They will pull ahead, even though their horse is carrying both of them,” Ager said. “We have to ride slowly to keep to their trail.”
It was mid-afternoon before Lynan reached the top of the crest. It had been hard work, climbing and leading the horse. Gudon had slipped into a kind of sleep, stirring only occasionally to pat the horse and smile at Lynan before nodding off again. Now that they were clear of most of the trees the sun woke him fully, and he tried to slip off the horse.
“What are you doing?” Lynan cried, and tried to stop him.
“No, no, young master! I need to stand. I haven’t been on a horse for many years, and my thighs and back feel like they have been stretched forever out of shape.” He balanced himself on his good leg and held onto the saddle, then slowly stretched his muscles.
A cool wind blew around them. From their vantage point Lynan could see that the crest fell more sharply on its western side—leveling out in a broad dry plain with no trees and no sign of life—but extended north until it joined the saddle of a much larger rise. Beyond that he could see the peaks of several mountains, some of them high enough to shine with snow. He looked behind him and saw more mountains, though none as high as those in the north.
“That is the Lesser Desert,” Gudon told him, pointing to the plain. “It follows the Ufero Mountains along almost its entire length. South of here is the source of the Gelt River, which flows into Kestrel Bay.”
Lynan dimly remembered that the Gelt River had been the original destination for him and his companions on leaving Kendra. How much easier their journey would have been if they had not been forced onto the rocks by that warship, he thought. They could have sailed halfway up the Gelt, then strolled the rest of its length to these mountains. No great bears or vampires or Jes Prados or jaizru.
“North of here there is a pass through the mountains, called the Algonka,” continued Gudon. “It is part of a well-used caravan route, and will take us to the start of the Oceans of Grass. There is a water hole at the end of the caravan route called by us the Strangers’ Sooq.”
“We will find refuge at this sooq?”
Gudon shrugged.
“How far away is this pass?”
“Two days’ journey at least. We must stay this side of the mountains to find water, and the way is not always this easy.”
Lynan wiped the sweat from his brow. “Wonderful,” he muttered.
Gudon used his arms to mount by himself and grimaced when his injured knee bumped into the saddle. “Truth, it could be worse,” Gudon said between his teeth.
“How worse?”
The Chett grinned at Lynan. “It could be me walking instead of you.”
It was late at night, and Rendle, tired and fed up from hours arguing with Charion’s quartermaster about supplies for his company, was not in a good mood when Eder opened the flap to his tent and just walked in.
“This had better be good.”
“You have a visitor,” Eder said shortly and moved aside. At first Rendle did not recognize the lumpen shape that entered, even when Eder lit another candle.
“Who…” But then something about the mouth and crooked nose sparked a memory. “Prado?”
“The same,” Jes Prado answered, and without invitation sat himself down on Rendle’s bunk. He was cradling his arm, and his clothes were bloody and torn.
Rendle poured wine into a mug and passed it to Prado. “What happened to you? I wasn’t expecting you for another day, at least. Did you find the prize?”
Prado swallowed the wine in two gulps and held out the mug for more. Rendle obliged.
“We found the prince, all right,” Prado said, his voice rough with exhaustion, “and got him as far as the Barda River. Then we lost him.”
Rendle’s face went as hard as stone, but his voice remained level. “Lost him?”
Prado drunk some more wine, then started retching. Rendle took the mug away from him until he had finished, then handed it back. Prado met his gaze, but turned away when he saw the look in Rendle’s eyes.
“But I know where he’s going,” he said quickly. “We were chased by Kumul and two companions—”
“The crookback and the girl?”
“Aye. We made it to the river just in time and took a barge. The pilot played along for a while, then drove the barge into a clump of jaizru nests.”
Eder blanched; Rendle did not even blink. “And then?”
“The eels killed my two best men and two of my horses. I saw Lynan pushed over the side by the pilot, then the pilot mounted one of the horses and forced it into the river. I saw them being attacked as they made for the bank. More jaizru were flying at the barge. I jumped over the other side, thinking the eels would be too busy with the pilot and the horse. I was mostly right.” He held up his arm to show the wounds he had received. “I have more on my back and neck.”
“And then?” Rendle prodded without a trace of sympathy.
“I reached the bank and collapsed. I don’t know how long I was out for. When I came to, I saw Lynan carrying the pilot away from the river, heading west.”
“What about the horse?”
“I didn’t see its carcass in the river. I think it must have gotten away.”
“And where do you think Lynan is going?”
“The pilot was a Chett,” Prado said. “I think they’ll head for the Oceans of Grass. Where else can the prince go?”
“How did you reach Daavis?”
“I caught another barge upriver. I had to give the pilot the last of my coins.” He finished the wine, but did not dare hold out the mug again.
Rendle and Eder exchanged glances. Eder nodded and left the tent. “Do you think you can ride?” Rendle asked.
“Give me a night’s rest and I’ll—”
“Now,” Rendle said. “We must ride tonight if we’re to make the Algonka Pass in time to intercept the prince. If you are right about Lynan heading for the Oceans of Grass, that is the only way through.”
“How many men will you take?”
“I will take my company, Prado. I’m not going anywhere near the Chetts without plenty of swords to back me up.”
Eder returned. “I’ve sent out the marshals. The company will leave Daavis in small groups and meet four leagues north of the city.”
“Get our tents down,” Rendle ordered. “We won’t be coming back here.” He turned to Prado. “And you come with us. If we capture Lynan, I may forgive you for what you have done. If not…” He poured more wine into Prado’s mug. “… I may sell you to the Chetts.”
Chapter 24
The next morning Gudon’s knee seemed no better to Lynan, but the pilot insisted the pain was less. Lynan applied
more haethu to both their wounds. They ate a handful of berries they had found nearby and then they set off once more, traversing steep slopes made slippery with loose stones. Lynan discovered the hardest part was not climbing but descending; he had to use all his strength to keep his footing and at the same time concentrate on leading the horse along the firmest ground. The muscles and joints in his legs felt as if they had been so overused he would never walk normally again; and as far as he could see, for all his efforts they were making barely any progress at all. The terrain seemed the same no matter which way he looked. But Gudon, with gentle humor and confidence, continued to give directions and encouragement.
The sky was covered in high clouds which made Lynan feel dreary, and though it made the air cooler, it also made it more humid. They stopped regularly to let both Lynan and the horse rest, and near midday they were lucky to find a gully with trees for extra shade and a brook with water so cold and fresh it helped invigorate them. Gudon actually tried standing without support and managed to walk three paces before Lynan had to help him sit down. “You see, little master, I told you it was healing.”
“I wish it had healed enough for you to lead the horse for a while. It does not like these slopes.”
“Any more than you,” Gudon pointed out.
“How far to the Algonka Pass?”
“We will reach it tomorrow, probably in the morning. The descent to the road will be hard, but once there it is easy going all the way to the Strangers’ Sooq.”
“And how far from the pass to the sooq?”
“Another day.”
Gudon started suddenly and began digging at the base of a tree Lynan had not seen before. “It is rare to find these on this side of the Ufero Mountains,” the Chett said excitedly. He dug until he had exposed enough of the tree’s roots to get a hand around one of them. He pulled twice and the root lifted into the air, then used a small knife he retrieved from a sheath at the back of his shirt to sever it from the main stock. The outer layer peeled off easily, revealing a milky-white core. Gudon cut it in two and passed one half to Lynan.
