by PJ McDermott
“Gareth,” Jess said, quietly. “You know that’s the truth. I don’t like leaving Hickory, but I agree with Jakah. We must retrieve the sword of Connat. There’s too much at stake for us to fail.”
The boy stood up abruptly and stalked away. Jess started to rise, but Jakah said, “Leave him with his thoughts for a while. He needs time to come to grips with the possibility that Hickory might be dead. Not saying she is,” he said hurriedly as Jess began to protest, “but it’s something he needs to consider. He feels very deeply for her, and he must mourn a little.”
Jess looked after Gareth as he walked hunched over towards the river. “He’s not the only one,” she murmured.
An hour later, Gareth returned. He nodded at Jakah, then Jess. “You’re both right. We need to continue our mission.”
They talked long into the night, planning how they would reach Kandromena. Jess drew a map outlining what they remembered from the briefing session with Albetius. It was rough, but they felt confident it would help them reach Feruwe. They were less sure of what they would do once they got there.
“One thing at a time,” said Jess, folding up the map. “Hopefully, things will become clearer when we get there.”
They set out the next morning, following the river that had been Albetius’s path to reach the land of Malikai bordering on Feruwe. The watercourse wound through several frozen valleys and they had to negotiate steep drops where the river burst free of the ice and cascaded more than a hundred feet to the rocks below.
After they had traveled for two days downhill, the land leveled out and the going became easier. Snow still covered the ground hiding the occasional tree branch and sharp rock. Jakah sprained his ankle in a small animal burrow, and they were forced to rest for a few hours.
Gareth pored over the map Jess had drawn and said, “It looks as though the river heads in the general direction of Feruwe for quite a ways.”
“What are you thinking,” said Jess.
He pointed to some young trees growing on the river bank. “You know, if we were to build a raft to take us downstream, it would probably save us several days of hard foot slogging, and it would give Jakah’s ankle a chance to heal properly.”
“Do we know how?” asked Jakah.
“How hard can it be? We have rope,” said Gareth, grinning.
Jakah shook his head and stood. “I’ll have a look around and see if I can find some vines. You can start by finding two decent sized logs and cutting notches in them top and bottom.” He pointed to a nearby sapling. “Jess, maybe you can find a dozen trees of similar girth to that one for the crossbeams.”
Under Jakah’s direction, they constructed a serviceable raft, and Jakah finished it off by building a sun shelter on one end.
On the first day, the river flowed steadily in the right direction, and they made good progress using their poles to push away from the occasional boulder or half sunken tree trunk. They pulled the raft onto the riverbank at night and slept soundly. The following afternoon, the water became choppy, and the tempo of the current picked up. Gareth’s long pole snapped as they narrowly avoided crashing into a large rock, and they decided to head for the shore.
They maneuvered the raft towards the riverbank, but it became caught in an eddy and started to rotate as it moved swiftly downstream.
“Push,” shouted Jess straining to be heard over the roar of approaching rapids. The raft rolled and lurched on the foaming water. All three worked furiously despite the wild gyrations but were unable to control the raft’s direction. The wooden structure smashed into a half-submerged boulder and split apart. The force of the crash plunged the three passengers into the water.
Gareth emerged, spluttering and gasping for air. He spied Jess crawling onto the bank and then saw Jakah bob to the surface close by. The Dark Sun was face down and blood stained the water around him. His arms floated loosely by his side, the air trapped in his jacket keeping him momentarily afloat. Gareth struck out for the naur and grabbed hold of his collar just as he sank beneath the surface.
He hauled Jakah towards the shore and Jess met him waist deep. They laid him out on his back and pumped his arms and chest to expel the water from his lungs.
“Come on, Jakah—breathe,” said Gareth.
Jakah coughed and his eyes fluttered.
“Thank God,” said Jess as they helped him sit up. She wiped the blood from his face and tied a cloth around his head.
“What happened?” Jakah said, shivering.
“You almost drowned. Gareth pulled you out.” She said.
Jakah tapped a loose fist against his chest. “I am in your debt,” he said solemnly.
Feruwe
Hickory, Albetius, and Saurab attached themselves to Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth and his small band of devotees, as they made their way into the narrow passage through the mountains and headed towards Feruwe.
The road underfoot was rugged, but passable. Hickory wondered why there wasn’t more traffic between the two countries.
“The Lonilki are a shy race who prefer to keep to their own ways. They would not assimilate well in other lands. The Erlachi states have a feudal history, but they have no ambitions for more land,” said Kar.
“You surprise me. Didn’t they attack Ezekan, when Connat-sèra-Haagar came to the rescue of the Avanauri?” said Hickory.
“That war was inspired by a difference in religious views. It wasn’t motivated by greed. The Pharlaxian is attempting to overturn history and tradition by using the Erlachi people to make a grab for power. I think in the end he will be defeated.”
Albetius joined the discussion. “The Erlachi nobles have no military interest in Avanaux, though there are some who still rankle from their defeat at the hands of Connat and her sword. Those would enjoy giving Avanaux a bloody nose.”
“This, too, will pass,” said Kar.
Hickory had been discreetly observing Saurab. At first, she thought it was her imagination but as time passed, the little Dark Sun, generally the life of the party, had become more morose, more withdrawn, preferring to keep his own company. She saw him give Kar-Sèr-Sephiryth a few dark glances and she worried what this could signify. Kar for his part seemed unconcerned. She decided not to raise it with Saurab but wait to see how it developed, if at all.
She asked Kar about his empathic ability. “Is it something you’ve always had, or did you grow into it?”
“It has always been part of me, but it has matured as I have grown. On Prosperine, there are no machines such as those you have told me about to help control this power, so I have learned how to direct and withhold it.”
Hickory, thinking back to her childhood, could not comprehend the strength of will this must have taken. Before the medical scientists had hooked her up to PORO, the Proto-sentient Objective Reasoning Organism, the spontaneous piggybacking onto other people’s emotions had almost driven her insane. “What about your religious philosophies? Don’t your abilities make you question your belief in an all-powerful being?”
When Kar-sèr-Sephiryth looked straight into Hickory’s eyes, she was disconcertingly aware of their sparkling color, surrounded by the black pigment that was the trademark of all Avanauri males. Somehow, their alien quality did not seem strange or repugnant to her, but rather warm and attractive. Idiot! Wake up—he’s an alien.
“Firstly, Hickory, my convictions are not ‘philosophies’ to be chosen or discarded at will. They are innate truths, as essential to my life as is the sun. My abilities are like a speck of dust in comparison to the greatness of Balor, and Balor is love incarnate. Do you understand, Hickory? Balor is within me. He speaks his will to me, and I obey as his loving son.”
Not for the first time, Hickory felt confused and humbled by this naur. Who is he? What is he? If another spoke to her in this way, she would classify him as deluded, mad. One thing I do know. This naur is the sanest, most well-balanced individual I’ve ever come across.
“Don’t be concerned, Hickory. Your questions and doubts will be answered in t
he fullness of time.” He smiled. “I would teach you how to kindle your abilities using love as the catalyst rather than hate if you are willing?”
“If you think this is something a human can learn, then I would like to—yes.”
The Teacher stopped and faced her, taking her hands in his. “The first thing you must do is have faith in me. I can teach you, but you must open your heart as well as your mind.”
Her heartbeat raced and she felt her mouth drying. She nodded. “I will try.”
The difference in the weather between Lonilk and Feruwe was remarkable. By the time they reached the halfway point of the pass, the first frosts had kissed the earth. When they crossed the border into Feruwe, blue-white snow lay deep on the mountains on either side and the air had turned bitterly cold. They came upon the first dwelling, a nomadic tent made of wood and animal skins covered with a light layer of snow and with smoke trailing from a hole in the roof. A cluster of yarraks fed in an outdoor enclosure nearby.
Saurab stayed well back, along with the Teacher’s followers, so as not to intimidate the occupants who would not be used to seeing people in such numbers in this remote area. The Teacher and Hickory accompanied Albetius, who knocked on the tent frame.
“Hello inside,” he called. “We are travelers, come a long way. We mean no harm and would trade with you for some of your yarraks.”
The flap was flung open and a half-visible face looked them up and down. “Who are you? Are you robbers come to steal from a poor Erlachi shepherd? Much good it will do you. We have nothing left since the tax collectors’ last visit.”
“We are neither robbers nor tax collectors, but we would be pleased to hear any news you may have of the country and the city,” said the Teacher.
The farmer stared at Kar-Sèr-Sephiryth then lifted the tent flap wide. “I do not know you, sir, you are not from these parts, but if I am any judge of character you mean no harm and are welcome in my home.”
It was warm inside. They removed gloves and jackets and sat on the rug in front of the fire, alongside Tyrniol the shepherd and his family of four sturdy sons and six equally healthy daughters. They had been moving from pasture to pasture for the last six months and had little news to share, but were eager to hear whatever the travelers could tell them.
They drank a hot strong caffeine drink and paid the shepherd a fair price for twenty of his yarraks. “I was just about to take them to the market in Kandromena, so you have saved me a trip. They are well trained, and you won’t have a problem riding them or using them as pack animals. They are good-natured beasts.”
The yarraks were large animals with no tail, and they were hairless. Their massive bodies, pale pink in color and crossed by gray undulating stripes, were supported by two huge front limbs and two shorter back legs. Their heads at the end of long curved necks were relatively small, and they had disproportionately large eyes and a quivering nose.
The farmer was as good as his word. Hickory found her mount comfortable under her, and they formed an instant liking for each other. The yarraks ambled along at a constant pace and they ate up the miles. By late afternoon when it began to snow, Hickory calculated they were halfway to the capital. They decided to press on and try to reach the city by nightfall. They covered their faces with scarves and urged their mounts forward.
When they came over the next rise, they were startled to see a large force of soldiers riding towards them through the snow.
“A brigade of guards from the city,” said Albetius, his breath condensing white in front of him. “I am betrayed. That farmer must have recognized me after all.”
“No. He is a good man. If he had recognized you, you would have discovered an ally, not an enemy. These Erlachi are hunting another,” said Kar.
“They will not take me without a fight,” said Saurab, drawing his sword.
“Not you, my friend. Put away your weapon,” said Kar.
“They are looking for you?” said Hickory. “Why?”
“Sequana, I fear. His hatred knows no bounds.”
Hickory nudged her yarrak forward, and Saurab and Albetius joined her, the snow flurrying about them.
The soldiers urged their steeds to greater speed and split into three wings. As they came nearer, the padded feet of their yarraks thundered on the hard ground. The riders gave no indication of stopping.
“They mean to engage us,” shouted Hickory.
“I’ll put a dent in some of their helmets at least,” said Saurab, standing in his saddle.
“For Feruwe and Vistiore!” screamed Albetius, waving his sword in the air as the soldiers closed with them.
The yarraks on both sides pounded at the ground, causing mud and ice particles to fly into the air and thicken the falling snow, making it difficult to be certain who was the enemy and who a friend.
Hickory pushed her mount between two soldiers and slashed to either side as she passed through, then wheeled to attack from the rear. She saw the tall figure of Albetius surrounded by three mounted guards, defending valiantly and spurred her yarrak to his aid. She yelled as she fell upon them, barging her steed into one yarrak, unseating its rider and hacking at another as she passed. She saw Albetius topple his opponent and engage with another.
She looked around, searching for the Teacher, and saw him surrounded by several of his supporters wielding wooden staves and trying vainly to hold off half a dozen guardsmen. Where’s Saurab? She caught a fleeting glimpse of the small Dark Sun in the midst of the disciples and then a flurry of snow blocked her view. When it cleared, she saw that the Teacher and Saurab had been disarmed. They struggled against their captors but were forced to the ground and bound hand and foot. She saw with alarm that blood was flowing from the Teacher’s side, and she wheeled her yarrak around to rush to his aid. Then she heard Albetius call.
“Hickory. We are lost. We can do no good here. We must go and regroup. They will take the Teacher and Saurab to the city.”
A shadowy form materialized at his side with sword upraised. Albetius turned to meet the challenge and disappeared into the mist.
Hickory peered into the gloom, but all she saw were blurry images of soldiers and all she heard were the muffled cries of the vanquished. Cursing, she pulled her yarrak around and headed away from the skirmish.
An hour later, she stopped and dismounted to examine her steed. She ran her hand along its sides and legs and felt two superficial wounds on its flank and a deeper one on its neck. She pulled her bags from its back and dragged out some cloths and the ointment Jess had given her. She cleaned the wounds and applied the salve to the trembling animal, murmuring to it soothingly as she did so.
Hickory listened intently for the sounds of fighting but could hear nothing. Desperately, she tried to reach the Teacher using her empathic gift amplified by her SIM, but soon realized it was pointless. He might have been able to sense where she was, but she couldn’t receive any message from him.
She heard a foot crunch the snow and stiffened. She put her hand over the mouth of the yarrak and whispered reassurances in its ear.
“Hickory—is that you?” a voice whispered.
“Albetius?” She let out a deep breath. “I’m over here.”
Albetius materialized out of the darkness almost unrecognizable, his clothes and face stained with blood. “Thank Balor,” he said. “I thought you were dead for certain.” He dismounted and stumbled towards Hickory.
Hickory caught him before he fell. “Are you hurt?”
“Just scratches, nothing serious,” he said, recovering his balance. He grinned at her. “I surprised myself. All those lessons from my fencing master finally paid off.”
“How did you find me?” she said.
“When I escaped, I circled the area and found one set of tracks leading away. I hoped it was you.”
Hickory clasped the king’s shoulder. “If you could follow me here, others can too. We’d best be away. Are we the only two left?”
“I saw some of the Teacher’s follo
wers running away after he was arrested. Some may have survived, but Balor knows where they are now.”
They mounted their steeds and set a steady pace towards Kandromena. It wasn’t long before they came across a large number of tracks.
“Guardsmen, and moving quickly by the look of it. If we follow them, they will lead us directly to the city,” said Albetius. They reduced speed to a trot to make sure they didn’t unexpectedly run into the troops.
“Did you see the Teacher being taken? Was he badly hurt?” asked Hickory. She dreaded the answer.
The king refused to look at her and did not respond immediately.
Hickory felt a stone take the place of her heart. It hurt to speak the words. “Is…is he dead?”
“He was still alive the last I saw him, no thanks to Saurab.” Albetius’ eyes were angry.
The Teacher is still alive!
Albetius’ words penetrated her euphoria. She remembered the look Saurab had given the Teacher, and she felt her chest tighten again. “What about Saurab?” Her voice sounded harsh in her own ears.
“The Teacher was not felled by a guardsman. I saw Saurab thrust his knife into his side.”
Hickory brought her yarrak to a stop. The king trotted on for a few steps and then halted, turning in his saddle. “There is no mistake. I saw him clearly. I know not why he would do such a thing, but…”
Hickory’s mind was in turmoil. She could not reconcile her image of the adventurous, fun-loving, Dark Sun with that of a traitor, a murderer. Yet there it was. Albetius would not lie about such a thing. She should have done something. The thought filled her with despair, and then anger.
“I don’t know either,” she said. “But there will be a reckoning, I promise you that.” She pressed her lips together and flicked the reins.
Survival
After the raft had been destroyed, Jess, Gareth, and Jakah struck across country in the general direction of Feruwe. It was tough terrain with rocks, sticks, and animal burrows ready to trip them up at every turn. Jakah’s ankle did not heal properly, and despite Jess’s ministrations, it was still swollen. They had recovered only one backpack from the river and had exhausted their food supplies.
