Renzo rubbed his hands together. “I sense my skills may soon be called upon. I suppose I could grab a few struzzi and bribe the guards at the pass.”
“Are we common thieves now?” Maxyn said in my ear.
“When we have no choice,” I said, but the truth was, it did bother me.
“Perhaps we only need to borrow some struzzi,” said Renzo, tapping his chin. “Temporarily.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’m merely considering my options,” he replied. “Bribery is so”—he feigned a yawn—“boring.”
“Just don’t get too creative,” Khara warned.
We had begun to veer southward, closer to the Perricci mountain range. When the sun was high, I could now see the distant Cruacan Pass, two enormous, sheer mountains separated by a valley no more than a quarter league across. The trees were dense enough to shield us from prying eyes and provide some shade, the breeze cool but not cold.
We also began to see fences of stone or wood enclosing large fields. Some contained cattle or horses. Others held the strange, gawky struzzi, craning their long orange necks while they gaped at us with foolish, wide-eyed expressions.
“Gambler,” Khara said, “we are in Belthassan land. Any humans we see must be considered dangerous.”
She did not give Gambler orders, but he took her unspoken suggestion. “I will scout ahead.”
He doubled his pace and soon drew away from us. Darkness was falling when Gambler returned to report. “There is a camp of humans, ranchers with horses, a league to the east. If we hug the foothills, we will pass by unseen.”
We spent the night in a grove of trees watered by a swift, icy-cold stream. It fed a small pool, half-covered by silver lily pads, and there I braved the water to take the first bath I’d been able to manage in some time. Maxyn jumped in, too, somersaulting and diving happily.
I noticed Tobble standing by the edge of the stream, watching us. “Tobble!” I called. “Come join us! It’s freezing, but you get used to it.”
Maxyn splashed me and I yelped. “Well, maybe you don’t get used to it,” I conceded. “But it still feels good to get clean.”
Tobble shook his head. “Tomorrow, perhaps,” he said. “I’m off to sleep.”
“You’re missing out,” I said, but he had already headed back to join the others. Watching him trudge off, I felt a stab of sadness and even guilt. Was he feeling jealous of my newfound friendship with Maxyn?
I resolved to do better. Tobble was my dearest friend.
I owed him everything.
But it was hard to know how to have two friends at the same time. When I’d been a pup, my siblings and I were always together. They were my only friends, and they were all the friends I needed.
This was different.
Khara woke us all once the moon had set. As we neared the Cruacan Pass, she noticed two new fortresses had been constructed. One, round and squat, was on the northern face of the pass. The other, a smaller, more slender watchtower, was perched improbably atop a rock outcropping.
In the round fortress, Khara suspected, were engines of war. Trebuchets capable of flinging stones weighing hundreds of pounds. Cross spears, with pleated garivan tendons used as bowstrings. Fire-spitters, which Renzo suspected used theurgic ingredients to launch sprays of liquid fire. And buckets, trebuchets that launched not stones but great quantities of burning oil.
“I wish we still had Tobble’s Far-Near,” Khara said. “But from the little bit I can see, the siege weapons are aimed toward the east, as though they expect an attack from that direction.”
“But can they still throw rocks at us?” Tobble asked.
“Yes, they can.”
“How do we get through?” Maxyn asked.
“Excellent question,” Khara allowed. “There is surprisingly little traffic on the Cruacan Road. That bodes ill. It means the Murdano is not buying goods—lumber or foodstuffs or leather—from the families in the Nedarran plains.”
“Perhaps the Murdano has all he needs,” I suggested.
“Could be,” said Khara. “Or it could mean that things are more hostile between the exiled families and the Murdano.”
A mere trickle of people and horses moved through the pass itself. Any notion that we could sneak past in a rush of caravans evaporated.
“Remind me, thief,” Khara said, with a sideways glance at Renzo. “Just how good is your theurgy?”
Renzo shrugged. “I can cast spells that confuse the eye, but not invisibility spells. I’ve used them to take food—and sometimes more than food—but they only mislead, so that a shopkeeper will look past Dog and me. Still, with an effort of will, they can see me.”
“I can pass unseen,” Gambler said, drawing every eye to him. “Felivets are nearly invisible when we wish to be, simply because we are felivets. However, I also have some theurgic powers.”
“Really, Gambler?” I asked, surprised. “You’ve never shown us any.”
Gambler gave his version of a confident smile, a sort of combination smirk and whisker-twitch. “I’m a felivet. We rarely need to resort to theurgy.”
Khara considered this carefully. She looked at the pass, at Gambler, at Renzo, at me, then back at the pass. She repeated the sequence before saying, “We need a distraction. A big one. If we had a distraction, we could race to the northern fortress. See how the land blocks it? You can’t see the round fortress from the watchtower, I’d wager. And men in the fortress would be unlikely to catch sight of us. We’d be directly below them.”
“A big distraction, eh?” Renzo said, looking speculatively at Gambler. “I’ll chance it if you will, friend felivet.”
“Be careful, you two,” Khara warned as they headed off.
“Careful? That’ll make for a change of pace,” Renzo called over his shoulder with a laugh.
We sheltered from view in some tumbled boulders, afraid to build a fire, dining on cold food and muttering in soft voices. After eating, we dragged ourselves behind boulders and into gullies, getting as close as we could to the north fortress. It seemed to be directly above us, though it was in reality a hundred yards or more away.
We waited in a state of agitated readiness, ready to move instantly. Khara scanned the area before us intently, chewing on her thumbnail.
“Khara?” I whispered. “Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.”
“I’m not concerned about Gambler,” she whispered back. “He can take care of himself.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s Renzo I’m worried about. He takes risks.”
“So do you,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but my risks are smart ones,” she replied with a half smile.
The hours wore on. All we could do was wait, and hope the diversion would be a good one.
We were not, as it turned out, disappointed.
36
A Diversion
First came the deafening cry of the struzzi, a screech that ventures from high to low and back again, seemingly without end.
There is a reason why no one wants to be a struzzi shepherd. Struzzi wallow in their own filth, steal other birds’ nests, and often eat their own young. Any time they are startled, they emit a hideous, earsplitting warble.
But that’s not all they emit. Frightened struzzi release a bitter, noxious odor that makes a skunk’s scent seem like a delicate rose perfume.
Next we noticed the orange glow.
“This is it!” Khara hissed, and we were all instantly ready to run. “Hold . . . hold . . .”
A herd of three dozen struzzi came racing through the pass, pursued by a moving wall of flame.
“Now!” Khara yelled, and we were off, running, stumbling over stones, fighting to keep steady on the steep slope.
Torches flared on the battlements of the round fortress, followed by shouts of alarm.
We were making plenty of noise ourselves, as our clumsiness sent cascades of loose shale rattling down. Still, we knew nothing would be heard over the noise of the crazed struzzi p
ursued by . . . well, barrels.
Barrels. Burning barrels, rolling down the gentle slope of the pass road behind the struzzi.
This was the moment the Murdano’s men would realize they were witnessing a diversion. But we were already passing the round fortress, running as fast as we could, given the terrain. Our only advantage was that the guards would assume the danger was coming from the same direction as the struzzi.
We rounded an especially difficult slope and I fell, cutting both my knees. As Maxyn helped me to my feet, we saw two men in the shadows. I could just make out the silhouettes of helmets and spear tips.
Khara held up a hand, stopping us. Then she walked forward alone, saying, “Is this an attack?”
“We don’t know yet,” a male voice replied. Then, in a tone of dawning suspicion, he asked, “Who are you?”
By then, Khara had drawn her sword. She struck hard and fast, and the man who had questioned her spoke no more. The second man panicked and ran, as Khara yelled, “Now, now, now!”
We tore after Khara as she pursued the fleeing man. They disappeared from view for a moment, and when we reached them, Khara was panting and I saw a smear of blood on her face.
Wordlessly, we hugged the wall of the pass, edging along the cliff base, terrified of being spotted. We bumped into a small trading caravan coming the other way, passed through them, and came to a checkpoint set up to guard the other side of the pass.
“If we get past that checkpoint, we may just survive,” Khara whispered.
The checkpoint was a stone barracks that held perhaps ten soldiers, and it sat beside the narrowest part of the pass, a spot where the gap between walls was a mere fifty feet. Ten soldiers, we all knew, were far too many for Khara to take on single-handedly, and Maxyn, Tobble, and I would not be of much help.
“Is that a stable I smell?” Tobble asked.
I rose cautiously to see better and yes, there in a hollow, just this side of the barracks, was a stable. I’d smelled it, too, but hadn’t realized its importance.
I saw a flash of Khara’s teeth in the dark. “Follow me.”
We ran, hunched over, our steps louder now as the struzzi shrieks diminished behind us. But there could be no turning back. We were exposed to anyone in the watchtower who cared to look down.
A single guard was on duty outside the stable, but he was staring at the still-burning, if no longer rolling, barrels. Khara came up behind him and smashed the hilt of her sword against the base of his skull. He would have a terrible headache when he woke up, but at least he would wake up.
Inside we found six horses, unsaddled, in stalls.
“Get harnesses on them—no time for saddles,” Khara said. Tobble, Maxyn, and I untangled a mass of leather straps, managing, after some confusion, to get harnesses over the heads of all six horses.
“Tobble, with me,” Khara said as she swung herself up and onto a bay mare’s back. “Byx and Maxyn, up on that spotted gelding. Each one of you grab the reins of two spare horses.”
“Why are we taking the spare horses?” Maxyn wondered aloud, as he and I climbed up a stall door to reach the gelding’s broad back.
“You want soldiers chasing you on horse or on foot?” Khara said. “Byx, grab the mane. Maxyn, grab Byx. I’ll open the gate. Ready?”
If I were indulging in dairne honesty, I’d have answered, “Absolutely not. Not even close to ready.” But what I said was, “Yep.”
Khara leaned down from her horse, pushed the door open, and said, “Ride, and don’t stop for anything!”
She kicked her horse and I followed suit, though I doubt my horse even noticed. Fortunately, he was willing to follow Khara’s steed, and we blew out of the stable at an accelerating trot.
A soldier ran from the barracks, spear held at the ready, trying to cut us off as he yelled for help.
Khara swung the Light of Nedarra and sliced the thrusting spear in half as she shot past.
It was giddy madness, six horses all at a full gallop, unable to see where their hooves were landing. Ours stumbled once and I nearly slipped off, taking Maxyn with me. Behind us came the furious shouts of the soldiers, running on foot with no chance of overtaking us. It was dreamlike: the speed, the flashes of cliff face, the loom of boulders, the sudden snag of unseen brambles.
After a few more minutes, I felt openness and scented the clean smell of a breeze coming from the north. We were out of the pass, racing downhill over pastureland. Ahead I saw two riders, armor glinting in the light of the rising moon, racing from the north to cut us off.
Not just soldiers: knights.
Professional killers, with every kind of weapon imaginable.
Suddenly one of the knights flew sideways off his horse, shouting in surprise and alarm. His horse reared and shied away, panicked. The second knight’s horse slowed, and his rider, too, fell in a heap.
Both horses, having had more than enough, went whinnying off into the night.
We galloped on, although my horse was clearly feeling reluctant, and I had to urge him on. “Don’t worry, good horse, it’s a friend,” I said.
We had gained a new traveling companion. He ran along at a distance until we were certain that our soothing had calmed the horses enough to overcome their initial terror.
“Well done, Gambler,” Khara said.
“Horses,” Gambler said with a sneer. “They have no stomach for facing felivets, especially at night.”
Behind us, the fallen knights bellowed threats, but unhorsed, they were no concern of ours. And just ahead of us, on a small rise, sat Renzo on a stolen horse.
“Like our diversion?” Renzo asked as we reined in.
“It worked,” Khara allowed.
“And I know you must be very relieved that I survived unscathed,” Renzo said, flashing a grin.
Khara said, “Enh,” but you could see her obvious admiration.
“I . . . I did not like it,” Tobble said from his perch behind Khara.
“You’re unhappy I survived?” Renzo teased.
Tobble looked chagrined. “I mean to say,” he said in a small voice, “that it was incredibly brave, what you did, and it saved our lives, so naturally, I shall be eternally grateful to you, Gambler and Renzo. But—”
“There’s always a ‘but’!” Renzo moaned, but he was smiling, still giddy from his success.
“But,” Tobble said, “those struzzi must have been terrified. I know they are unlikable birds, what with their squawking and their, um, odor, but still . . .”
“You forgot their habit of eating their young,” Renzo said.
“Still—”
“And the fact that they steal nests,” Maxyn added.
“Still—” Tobble said.
“And the way—” I began, but Gambler cut me short.
“Silence!” he snapped. “Let the wobbyk speak. We may all have something to learn.”
Tobble cleared his throat. His big eyes glimmered in the pale starlight. “I just feel that even though struzzi are not the most charming of species—and, oh my, yes, they do smell atrocious—they should be treated with, well, kindness. Those big barrels on fire—what if one had hit a struzzi?”
“I was very careful to time the moment I let the barrels roll,” Renzo said.
“But if one of the birds had tripped,” Tobble said. “Or if a baby had been too slow—”
“There were no babies. And struzzi can fly brief distances if they need to,” Renzo said, but he was starting to sound a little deflated.
“Is my life more important than that of a struzzi?” Tobble asked. “Just because I am cute and cuddly?”
We all fell silent, as the horses trotted along.
“I suppose, Tobble, I could argue that we are in a kind of undeclared war,” Renzo finally offered, his tone much subdued. “And that in a war, necessary sacrifices have to be made.”
“But who decides that?” I asked aloud. The randomness of it all suddenly struck me—not to mention the unfairness. So few in the wor
ld had power. So many had none.
“Was my father a necessary sacrifice?” Maxyn said.
“And my pack?” I added, a catch in my throat.
We looked to Khara, as if she would solve the problem for us. But she was gazing straight ahead, as if she weren’t even listening.
Gambler, loping beside us, said, “Tobble, you are a wise young wobbyk. In any war, it is good to have someone ask the hard questions, the ones that defy easy answers.”
“It’s just so complicated,” Tobble said. “Nothing is black and white. It’s all shades of gray.”
Khara spoke for the first time. “You are right. But don’t let the complications stop you from taking a stand, Tobble. When you know in your soul that something is evil, you must fight it. But you fight with honor. With mercy. With fairness.”
“Tell that to the soldiers who’ve felt the point of your sword,” Renzo said.
Khara flashed a glance at him. “Do you doubt my leadership?”
“Never,” Renzo said sincerely. “I just doubt that war can ever be waged with honor, mercy, and fairness.”
“Given the path ahead of us,” Khara said, “let us hope you are wrong, my friend.”
37
The Baron
After coming down from the Cruacan Pass, we had to cross the Telarno River. All the bridges were sure to be guarded, and we knew we had already stretched our luck to the breaking point.
Khara decided we should travel north for a day into an area where the mountains loomed to our right like a great wall. Luckily, she knew of a ford, and we crossed the river at a place so shallow that the water barely rose above our horses’ knees.
We plunged into dense woods after that, and I asked why this forest was untouched, unlike the many we’d seen razed.
“Many of these are witch oaks,” Khara explained. “The wood is as hard as iron, very hard to cut, and the trees don’t grow straight enough for masts or planks. Then, too, these woods are not uninhabited, and some of the locals might object to tree cutters.”
Endling #2 Page 15
