by Aimee Gross
I turned as I fought for balance, to see a huge dark hawk, buffeted by the gale, but still pounding its wings against the roaring air. It swung wide and rode the air over the wall, then circled the courtyard. The pale fabric wings followed its curving path—the hawk was leading it. No—the hawk was guiding the wind to carry it! And with a sudden jerk of shock, I knew a mage looked through the hawk’s eyes to find his target in the fort. I could feel him doing it.
None of the men seemed to have noticed the hawk. I cocked and loaded my crossbow with shaking hands, shouting, “Bring down the hawk!” though I knew they could not hear me over the wind and tumult. The fire splashed onto the thatch and shingles below. Flames shot high, whipped by the frantic torrents of air.
“The hawk!” I cried again, and let fly a bolt and a prayer for it to find its mark.
It was too dark to see my quarrel’s path, but I saw the bird spin and tumble in the air, surely struck. It did not fall, instead beating harshly with its broad wings, it righted itself, and flew straight toward me.
I scrambled to reload. Da appeared beside me, and I gestured with my bow at the rushing hawk—“The mage is in it! Kill it, bring it down!” He fired as the bird drew in its wings to dive, talons outstretched. Da’s bolt flew wide of its wing, and I loosed mine to strike through the neck. The bird crashed onto the battlements at our feet.
The wind began to drop at once, and the soldiers around us leapt up to grasp the ropes that hung from the false firebird, sinking now without the fury of the magic-driven wind. They pulled it down and doused its fire with dirt and sand from buckets on the walls by the torches.
Fires roared in the keep below, with masses of men struggling to put them out. I could hear the echoing screams of panicked horses. Da prodded the body of the hawk with the toe of his boot. Not yet dead, it locked eyes with me, panting, its dark blood spreading on the stones. I trembled so hard I could scarcely keep my grip on my crossbow. A bitter chill clawed at my chest. Then, just as suddenly as I had known the mage was in the hawk, I felt him flee. A breeze ruffled the feathers across the crumpled body. The bird’s eyes turned milky, and its breath ceased. I no longer sensed the mage inside it—his mount was dead but he lived.
I ran to peer over the wall into the field to the north. Both sorcerers stood stone-frozen in the light of the bonfire below. And I swore both of them looked directly at me as I stood on the walkway above. What would they do now? Now that they knew me …
Da’s hand on my shoulder jerked me back, and I found I had been leaning out over the edge, on the brink of tumbling over. My ears buzzed and I felt distant, disconnected from my eyes and feet. “I’m taking him down below,” Da told the officer at his side. “Find me in the infirmary if anything changes.”
I did not speak, and let him lead me to the ladder. Wieser leapt and barked at its foot. I wanted to tell her I was all right, but I did not trust my voice not to quaver.
Someone pulled my crossbow out of my feeble fingers, then Da helped me place my feet and hands on the ladder rungs. My muscles felt like sodden noodles and I fought to make them obey. I was loath to ride down in Wieser’s bucket, despite my wobbling. Once on the ground, Da’s great warm hands steered me through yard and corridors past the firefighters with Wieser walking at my heels.
We came to a long room lit by guttering candles, lined with narrow beds and reeking of smoke and burnt flesh. A white-haired man of the Order of Healers looked up from sluicing char off a man’s shoulder. His initial squint at me caused him to point to one of the cots. “Put him there. What happened?”
Da aided me to lie back, and my teeth began to chatter, then my whole body to shake so that my limbs ached with it. The healer told an assistant to put salve on the man’s burned shoulder, and crossed to me, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“This is my son. He slew a possessed creature on the battlements, and seems stunned somehow by the magic released,” Da told him.
I tried to speak, but could not for the violence of the shaking. The healer passed his hands over my limbs and peered in my eyes. “Get him warm. It is perhaps some reaction to the attack, the boy is not used to battle.”
Someone covered me with a blanket warmed by the hearth. Idiot, I thought, I’m not cold and that wasn’t a battle. The mages have seen me, and now they are hunting me. I could feel them touching my mind, small glancing brushes at my thoughts. “A-Anno-nora,” I managed. She would know better what to do than this fool of a bone-cutter.
Da dispatched one of the soldiers at once. “Bring Wils and his wife directly here when they arrive through the tunnel.” The man saluted and sped away. Wieser sat at my bedside, and Da pulled a stool next to her and captured my quivering hand in his. “I would hear more about you and doing magic,” he said. “When you can speak more easily.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. I would have sworn I opened them only a moment later, but when I did Annora was seated on the stool, holding a steaming cup of one of her concoctions, looking down at me with worry-creased brows. Da and Wils stood at the foot of the cot in quiet conversation. Wieser alone had not moved. I found my shaking had ceased.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Annora plied me with the cup. “Nearly dawn now.”
“How is it I feel the mages trying to touch my mind?”
Annora waited to see me take a gulp of the brew before she answered, “You recognized what the hawk was doing, and struck it down. So, the mage felt the magic in you, then he saw you through the dying bird. They look for you now to assess what you can do to thwart them. How strong you are.”
I wish I knew. “Don’t tell me any more about any plans, just carry them out,” I said to Da and Wils. “I have no idea if they can know what I know by my thoughts.”
“If you remember, I told you not to set the place on fire,” Wils said, trying to muster a grin.
Do I look as bad as all that? I wondered.
“I tried to keep them from touching it off, didn’t I? Are the fires all out?”
Da nodded and drew Wils away. The healer stopped at the foot of the bed and sniffed. I heard him mutter “hedge-witch” as he ambled on to the next cot. Annora and I traded smiles, and I finished my cup.
“Should I have needed an arm cut off,” I said, watching the healer’s stiff neck, “I’d still rather have you do it.” Annora stifled a laugh and took the empty cup.
“Get me out of here. I can’t stop my thoughts from going to Wils and Da and what they’re doing. Let’s go to the stables and see the damage. See if Da’s grey stallion Wils thought so high of is still there.” I grew restless now I felt better, and could feel less intrusions from the mages when I was talking.
Annora, Wieser and I followed our noses to the stable yard; a place where stock is housed being familiar enough to a farmer. Much of the roof had burned, and dawn’s light shone through the blackened beams. The size of the fort continued to amaze me. We passed extensive gardens on our way from the infirmary, and a vineyard. Several kitchens were busy at daybreak, and we cadged a loaf at the baker’s and a hunk of goat cheese at the dairy. I shared this out as we stood looking at the stables. There had to be space for forty horses, at least.
“How many men do you suppose there are here, all told?” I said, then added quickly, “No, don’t answer. I have to watch what I have in my head!”
We went inside, and walked from stall to stall, greeting the occupants. Annora spent a little time with each one, soothing them after the fire had stirred them up so. She soon had them nuzzling and calm, investigating Wieser and me without tension. Some larger stalls had two horses within, whether debris and damage from the fire required the doubling up, or usual practice, I could not determine. But the fine grey head I sought came out over the stall half-door ahead of us, followed by that of a dun plow horse that must have been Wils’s mount on the autumn journey here. Both whickered softly to me.
A bow-legged man with a straggly beard stumped up the passage toward us, two haynets slung over
his shoulders. This must be the horsemaster who put Wils onto the tunnel to the valley, I realized. “Hullo,” I said. “Is this my da’s stallion?” I petted its cheek, and its stablemate’s, too.
“Yah, that’s the rogue, full of himself, as usual,” came the answer, but his voice was fond. “You’d be the paladin’s younger son, then. I heard you brought down the mage’s spirit hawk in that roaring gale last night. High magic, that.” He spat and slung one of the nets over the door and onto its hook.
I knew I shouldn’t ask—I had come to the stables to get away from thoughts that could betray me, after all. But still I blurted, “High magic?”
“Mmm. Weather-working, sendings, possession of animals. Shooting a bolt true through wild gusting wind. Such as that.”
“Which is different from?”
“Low magic,” supplied Annora. “Such as you see me do. Keeping ground fertile, healing folk and animals, preserving crops and fixing broken household things. Working in rhythm with the world. Are we supposed to be talking about—”
“No. Not at all.” I made myself change subjects. “He surely is a fine horse. If we had him at our farm, we could make a profit from stud fees, I reckon. Is his stallmate the plow horse Wils rode in on?”
It was a knobby-kneed gelding that I could easily believe to be as rough gaited as Wils had said. It wuffled at Annora until she came and rested a hand on the broad forehead. She spoke gently in its ear, and it sighed and half-closed its eyes.
“You’ll be young Wils’s bride, I wager,” said the old man. “I’m Senner Brayman. And aren’t you every bit as pretty as he said. How he pined, down here brushing that grey. I’m that glad he made his way home to you. And now you turn up here!”
“She won’t be staying as long as I did, so don’t get too attached to her,” Wils said, striding up.
“Can I keep her to settle all my nervy horses? They’re that spooked from last night,” grinned Senner, hanging the other haynet so he could clap Wils on the back.
“No, I need to fetch her to teach—” here he looked at me, and amended, “—to come and do something else. Judian, can you wait for me by the door?”
Wieser and I dutifully walked away, but I still heard Wils. “We need two dozen readied to ride out before noon. The grey for the paladin, and please something more vigorous than this leg of mutton for me.” I saw him pat both horses out of the corner of my eye; sorry to be disparaging the mount who brought him safely here, probably.
So, they were riding out, and to where? I slapped myself on the leg to interrupt the thought. Stop now! I scolded myself. Wils walked up with Annora, arm in arm, and pointed out into the courtyard.
“She’s coming with me. You’re to go down to the cisterns and wait for her there. When she joins you, go out and get the Traveller wagon. She’ll tell you where to drive it. And take care of her!”
“I’m more used to doing that than you are, having done it for longer.” Maybe churlish, but I did not care for being kept in the dark, however necessary it might be.
He made no comment on my sour outlook, and turned away with Annora. Then, swinging back, “Can you find the cisterns?”
“Wieser can,” I said as I waved them on their way. And I would have more time to explore the fort, while Annora performed her errand, since it appeared I would be leaving the place later today. Who could say when I would have another chance to see a fort? I hoped to occupy my mind with poking about.
Wieser and I found several weapons stores, or armories. The soldiers working at them told us the proper term. I saw the wisdom of not keeping all the weapons in one place, they were less vulnerable spread out as they were—Stop thinking! I spotted some of the Keltanese arrows we had brought in one cache. I asked a friendly soldier who put me in mind of Cobbel if I might have a crossbow, since mine had been left on the battlements, maybe. He found one with a full complement of bolts, and gave me a short sword besides. “Are you riding out to engage?” he asked eagerly.
I saw the error of my choice in coming to the armory then, and said, “No, just keeping prepared, thanks.” We instead went back to looking at foodstuffs and kitchens. Wieser liked that choice better, since no one could resist giving her a bit of meat or a broth soaked crust when she turned up. I accepted gratefully a cup of honeymead and an egg and onion stuffed in a hand-sized loaf so I could eat it as I walked. Relieved to know that men here had not been going hungry, I wondered if that was why they all seemed so resolute. We made our way past budding fruit trees and bee hives to the side of the keep where the way below to the cisterns lay.
We were gifted again passing through the sunken kitchen on the way to the stairway. Biscuits and honey, tender as could be. I wiped my hands on my trousers, and took up one of the tallow candles. As I struck a light, crouched over the wick in the curved stone entryway, Wieser began to whine. I looked about quickly for the cause of her unease, but found no person near. Peering deeper into the passage, I saw a shadow-shape, with nothing to cast it. I had the same sensation as I had in the forest months ago, of being watched. Hairs prickled on my arms and neck.
The wick caught, and I held the dancing flame before me, leaning in to see. The dark shape formed roughly the outline of a man, with a head and shoulders as of a man in a cloak. Where a face should be was only shadow. The image seemed to waver in the air, and I could make out the mortar between the stones behind it. It seemed Wieser saw it also, so it was not only in my mind.
Was this a Sending, a sorcerer walking abroad without his earthly body? Or some spirit of the ancient builders of the fort? It did not seem aware of Wieser and me, though I would be hard pressed to say why I thought that the case. As I stood still with caught breath, the figure drifted deeper into the hallway and dissolved into the stones as if passing through them.
A voice behind me startled me so I dropped my candle. Annora, drawing her shawl about her, saying, “Why is it so cold here?” She looked at my face in some alarm, then.
“Do not say I look as though I had just seen a ghost, because I think perhaps I have. I saw … something.” I retrieved the candle and lit it again, and told her what I had encountered. “Mage or spirit, do you think?”
“Certainly I can feel echoes of the past in this place, ancient as it is,” she mused. “I thought a Sending looked solid, and resembled the sender. Tangible enough that two can talk to one another, across distances.”
“A useful skill to learn, seems to me. But why can I see such a thing as a spirit today? I never have before. Bah! Let’s away to the wagon. Don’t say where we’re bound until I have the team ready.” I took a deep breath before leading Annora and Wieser down the passage, but the shadows within all behaved as shadows should, when we passed by.
CHAPTER 34
I found we had been left the team from the hijacked wagon, when Annora brought me to the Traveller rig. Honey and Cider must have been hitched to the larger wagon, traded in case the ambushed soldiers had worked their way free to report the theft. Do you think you can stop now—thinking thoughts that betray our plans? I scolded myself.
I harnessed the two, and climbed up beside Annora and Wieser. “Where can I carry you, Donah?” I teased.
“To the river where Joren Delyth took the wagon yesterday. Did you see on the map?”
I nodded and clucked to the team. I tried humming as we crossed the valley, so I could keep my thoughts from the soldiers climbing up to loose the rockslides, from Da and Wils riding out the gates to attack the enemy soldiers to divert them from the climbers, and from whether Joren would be able to get back to us or be trapped on the far side of the pass, or where Perk, Beckta and Miskin were now … ahh, it was maddening! I next tried whistling loudly, until Annora begged me to stop. She taught me a rhyming question game, and that was more successful at occupying my mind, for I had to focus on her clues.
We were perhaps halfway to the river, and could just make out the tall trees that followed its course across the valley, when a reverberating, grinding crash ca
me from the distance behind us. Deep rumbles and groans followed, and the earth of the valley floor seemed almost to tremble. I swung the horses around so we could look back, and saw a rising cloud of dust mounting above the pass, thickening as we watched. It bloomed so wide and steep, it looked as if another mountain had been birthed over the pass between the peaks.
“I hope no one was hurt,” Annora said at length. It looked to me as if there were many ways to be hurt in such an event—I had no idea the pass closure would loose such a large amount of rock. I sent up a wish for all dear to us to be unscathed, and turned the wagon back on route.
Gargle found us a short way further on, and took up his post atop the wagon’s peaked roof. He bore a cloak of pale dust, only his eyes shone dark, and he set about frantic preening.
“You must have helped with the close timing—” I started, and then bit my tongue.
“Yours is an active mind to try to keep still,” Annora said. She held aloft a handful of nutmeats, and Gargle took some in betwixt his feather cleaning. I noticed he was careful not to jab her hand with his beak, unlike when he took food from my hand. Annora’s heart drew out the best in us all, I reckoned.
When we reached the intended river bend, where I could see signs that the stolen wagon and team had visited, I pulled into the trees on the bank and halted. “Are we to set up camp? Or just lay low?” I asked, watching the broad riffles of clear water.
