by Aaron Pogue
Despite his warnings I clung to that horse in terror, as the world jolted and shuddered and the hard road rushed past far too quickly.
* * *
We pressed hard across the open country, walking the horses almost as much as we rode them. Despite their fine breeding, their endurance would only carry them so far. Unaccustomed as I was to the saddle, I needed the breaks as much as the horses did. We drove the horses past sunset, until the darkness fell so deep even Claighan could not justify the risk. Then we continued on foot until I was ready to drop.
At last the wizard decided it was time to stop. He found a bit of scrub large enough to tie the horses' leads, and we spread out thin palettes to sleep a short night on hard earth. There was no more imaginary feather bed, nor even a normal fire in the chilly spring night. He told me again as he had before, "When you bend reality, reality remembers." And he refused to leave a glowing trail for Seriphenes to track us by. I had learned to feel a cold chill at every mention of Seriphenes's name.
Master Seriphenes and the rebel wizard Lareth and Othin the Eagle. I had enemies in high places. It seemed absurd. These men had turned me into an outlaw. Three more hard days followed like the first, and I spent dark thoughts on my enemies as I ate dried beef and hard rolls and drank from icy streams and slept short nights on the cold earth. Before dawn each morning we packed up and pressed on.
By afternoon of the fourth day Claighan was sure the king's men were on our trail. He looked back often, cursed under his breath, then pressed his horse for a bit more speed. We flew due south, sometimes on the road and sometimes through farmers' fields. I thought of us hiding, of us passing more softly through the terrain and leaving no tracks, but Claighan had no interest in such subterfuge. "We have a lead on them, Daven. We must press that! We are still far ahead of them, and in four days at most, perhaps only three, we will be safe in our sanctuary."
"Will we?" I asked him, wheezing with the exertion of the hard pace. "Will we be safe?"
Claighan frowned and did not answer.
"I won't be," I said. "You said as much at the palace. And Seriphenes is a Master there. The same Seriphenes we're running from."
Claighan nodded and threw an anxious look back over his shoulder. But then he met my eyes. "The king's authority does not reach the Academy. Within its walls, the will of the Masters is sovereign. And Seriphenes is just one of many. We will be safe there."
I ground my teeth against the horse's jarring gait, even at a trot, but forced out the words. "Even me?"
He hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding. "Of course. I will extend you my protection. That will be enough." His eyes held worry, though, and I waited for more. After some time he opened his mouth again, his piercing gaze fixed on the horizon, then said almost under his breath, "As long as we can pass quietly through Gath."
"What if they catch us? What do we do then?"
He looked at me, some sad humor tinting his eyes. "You stay still, and stay alive. I will do what I can with magic. But I will not fight them if I can avoid it. We have already killed one of the King's Guard." His eyes turned sad at the memory, for just a moment. "And that will look less like an accident if we do anything to harm others. For now, though, we have no concern for such things. We ride."
So we rode, hard and fast across beautiful country that never gave pause to our horses. All around us stretched beautiful fields of grass, cut here and there by shallow streams. There were no fences, no walls, and throughout the sunny days there were no villages. This land was littered with little towns, but Claighan had planned his path well, and our unswerving route would take us to only two towns—one late at night, and another where the Masters of the Academy held high favor.
Sometime near sunset on the fifth day I glanced back—just for an instant, I tore my eyes from the land blurring before me—and I saw what had made Claighan curse each time he turned. A small cloud of dust burned gold and red in the setting sun; distant, barely visible on the far horizon, but it followed us where no road went. I turned back, sank low against the neck of my horse, and clung to that racing animal as if it were hope itself. Claighan saw it all, he nodded, then turned his face into the wind as our horses raced on.
Once again we pressed well into the night before Claighan finally called to me to stop. I jerked on the reins and half-fell, half-slid out of the saddle, crashing to the dusty ground before the horse had stopped dancing. Claighan stepped down beside me, his boots slapping softly against the earth, then helped me to my feet.
He looked into my eyes with concern. "Are you yet alive?"
I chuckled darkly. "I am. Yet." I shook off his hand and gave him a smile. "I am fine, Claighan. It has been a hard ride, and I have little practice at such paces."
"You have done well. You have done marvelously. And you must do it again."
"I know. I realize that." I stretched sore muscles, trying to relax, but the memory of a dust cloud haunted me. "How long of a rest?"
He chuckled. "More than a rest, Daven. The horses are near dead. We will sleep until dawn." He pulled a wineskin from the packhorse's bags and pressed it into my hands. "Have something to drink, then find a place to sleep. I'll try to find some food for breakfast."
I sank down where I was, cradling the wineskin like a child. "Are you sure we have time for this, Claighan? They were so close behind us!"
He interrupted the business of unsaddling my horse to pat me on the shoulder. "We have time. They will not risk their horses in the night, not even as much as I did. And you need rest almost as much as the horses do. Worry not, I will take care of you."
I grumbled something acid as I sank down in the dirt. I think he heard me, but he never replied.
* * *
Breakfast was berries and some hard rolls that Claighan found in his saddlebags. I washed my face in the cold water of a stream, and then we were on the horses again. I had gained some amount of mastery but I still felt small and uncomfortable perched atop the powerful beast. The air was bright and clear, the sun crisp against the blue sky, but my mood was dark and jittery. I rode tense, still unsure, and tried to ignore the bruised and strained muscles that complained with every step.
Claighan, too, sank into a bleak mood before the sun had even reached the sky. He glanced back often over his shoulder, and finally said. "If I stare too hard I'll bring them on us myself. But then...." He trailed off, then reined up and backtracked for some distance. I stayed on the farmers' footpath, trotting steadily on until he returned. "They must be close, Daven. It's daylight, and they will not have given up. We must be wary."
"I'm too weary for wary, wizard." I gave a dark chuckle at my own words, and it became a long, low, coughing fit of laughter. Claighan shot a worried look at me.
"Daven!" He stopped, glancing over his shoulder as if the soft bark might have caught the attention of a great army. "You must pay attention. We are close enough to refuge that it would be a great shame to be captured now, but we are not close enough to feel safe. Watch every step. I'll be right back." I nodded, making my face serious, and after a moment he seemed satisfied. Again he fell back to search for signs of pursuit. Again I kept on, and after a moment he hurried up beside me and led me to a gallop for most of a mile. And then again we fell to a canter.
We continued in that way throughout the morning of the sixth day, Claighan constantly on edge, and I plodding dutifully down the path. We were walking the horses when we topped a long, low hill and saw far before us a sprawling town bustling in the late morning. Claighan glanced over when my jaw dropped open, and his eyes flicked back ahead. "Gath, at last! Get on your horse, boy! Up! We must appear absolutely unremarkable when we pass through the gates. The people here should not have heard of us yet, but if we draw attention to ourselves we are lost."
I shivered. This was not a farming town, lost in the rolling hills of the Ardain. This was a city. Even from here, miles away, I could see the bustle of it. So many people, and if word of us had gotten out, any one of them migh
t recognize us. I couldn't make myself move. "We're going down there?"
"We are," Claighan said, and his voice had a vicious snap to it. "Now. Get on your horse!"
There was such a tone of command that I couldn't help scrambling up into my saddle, and Claighan nodded in satisfaction. I settled into a trot beside him then shook my head. "What is this place?"
"Gath-upon-Brennes," he said, almost reverent. "Home of kings and warriors. The town itself is a monument." A great river came thudding into the city from our right, poured beneath half a dozen bridges and then into a great half-moon lake that filled the very center of the town. Beyond that the river rushed out the other side, beneath another dozen bridges. Even from afar I could see thickly clustered homes and markets, but the packed warren of streets and shops seemed to wrap around some unseen wall, and a great green garden blossomed in the midst of the bustling city. From nearly a mile away I could see the wash of colors from all the flowers.
I couldn't feel the beauty of it. My stomach turned. "This is foolishness, wizard. What if they recognize us?"
"Recognize us?" He looked over at me with a lazy laughter in his eyes. "The Academy is less than a day's journey from here, so wizards are a common enough sight. And how would anyone know you from any other common boy in the world?"
I shook my head. "It's not me, or you," I said. "It's us. Together."
He glanced at me again, but this time the laughter faded to a scowl, and I nodded.
"I know all too well how rumors spread," I said. "They've chased me my whole life. And news of a wizard turned traitor to the crown, hunted by the King's Guard and traveling with a young man who killed one of them...."
He nodded, brow furrowed. "I see what you mean."
I reached up to tug at his sleeve, trying to urge him around the city to the east, but he shook my hand off.
"No," he said, and dragged me back. "You make a good point, but we cannot avoid Gath. We must cross the river Brennes either way, and passing by the town would cost us nearly a full day. That would be foolishness this close to our destination."
"Worse to walk into a trap," I said. "By the same reasoning, they must know we'll be headed here."
He threw a sharp look at me, and I snapped my mouth shut. Then he shook his head. "You are not wrong, Daven, but I find myself too anxious to reach the safety of the Academy's walls. We seem to have outrun our pursuers, and I cannot imagine a gossipy farmer making better time than we have."
"But what if Seriphenes sent word for the king?"
"Then we shall have to deal with that," Claighan said. "It would be worse if the whole populace were on the lookout for us, but I suspect the king's orders will have been kept close. If we can escape the attention of the guards, we should be fine."
I rode at his side in silence for a while. Then I said, "And how will we do that?"
"We will split up," he said, and I could feel the heavy regret in his voice. "You are right. Either of us alone is inconspicuous enough, but together we may be lost." He sighed and pointed down the path ahead of us. "You will go in by the north gate, and follow the King's Way through the heart of town. It cuts west across the Great North Bridge."
From our vantage I could clearly see the path he pointed out. It was an easy route, and it led directly into the sprawling garden along the west bank of the lake.
He nodded. "I'll enter through the Farmers Gate in the east wall and take the Great South Bridge on the southern end of the lake. Wait for me in the park."
Alone, in the city. I shivered at the thought of it. "Will you dress me in illusion again?"
He shook his head. "No. As I said before, no one here will know you by sight, but if there happens to be another wizard in town, he would recognize the seeming, and it would draw far too much attention." He took a deep breath and puffed it out slowly. "I'll need to travel undisguised for the same reason. That may be trickier."
"Then let us pass the town altogether. I'd rather spend another night on the road—"
"No," he said with some finality. "No. The risk is slim, and we have wasted too much time already. We must begin fixing things, not allow them to continue getting worse."
I bit my tongue against a dark retort. Things could get quite a bit worse if we were caught in town. He would not be moved, though. I leaned forward in my saddle, checking my route through the city once more, and then I turned to him. "I will wait for you in the gardens."
He nodded. "Until sunset. If I do not come by then, slip out through the Empire Gate and follow the King's Way south toward Pollix. You'll know the road to the Academy when you see it."
I nodded. My stomach roiled with a sudden fear, but I took slow, steady breaths to calm myself as I always did before a fight. I reached over my shoulder to the sword hilt, just barely jutting out of the top of my travel pack, and prayed it wouldn't come to that.
Claighan saw it all, and then he nodded grimly. "It must not come to that," he said. "Run if you must. It will not go well for you if you are caught, but it will be worse if you kill any Guardsmen."
Any more, I corrected, but I did not say it. Instead I nodded back. He glanced over his shoulder to the north, but still there was no sign of pursuit—neither on the road nor in the sky above. I took his meaning, though, and spurred my horse forward. I heard him do the same behind me, veering off to the east to enter through a different gate.
I covered the last half-mile to the city walls at a gallop, then slowed to a canter as I approached a pair of bored guards beneath the shadow of the gate. One of them waved me through without even looking. The other gave me a glance, then turned his attention back to the road. I felt an itch between my shoulder blades as I passed, and it persisted for more than a mile down the road, but when I finally allowed myself to look back, they were still waiting in the same position, same bored faces. I turned my attention back to the road ahead and made my way through the city.
As I moved, comparing the city around me to the view I'd had of it from afar and above, I came to realize just how vast the gardens at its heart really were. The whole city seemed to point toward them, and here and there throughout the busy mercantile district I was passing through were hints, reminders of the gardens that made up the city's glory. I saw flowerpots in nearly every window, and little flower gardens tucked into every alley. The city was a rainbow of color and scent from thousands of flowers, exotic and plain. They mingled with the sights and smells of a busy city, the combined scents of sunflower and sweat, of daffodil and dung. As the afternoon breezes eddied and whirled I was assaulted and inspired by turns.
The people of the city paid it no mind at all. They paid far more attention to me, riding high above the cobblestone streets and gawking like a country boy come to town. I tried to rein it in, to hold myself with a bored, busy air. I doubt I did a very good job of it, though. I felt the weight of every gaze that passed over me, and far too often it belonged to a uniformed soldier. They wore the livery of the city watch, but they would be no slower to answer a warrant from the king than the most dedicated Green Eagle.
That left me tense and jumpy, and I passed the nervousness on to my horse. He became skittish and a little wild in the press of the city, and once while I was busy looking back over my shoulder at a pair of guards I'd seen talking close, the beast spooked beneath me and startled forward, knocking a shoulder into a goodman and sending him sprawling.
I scrambled down and helped him to his feet. He was more polite than I could have hoped for, but I couldn't count on the same treatment again, and I could end up in the hands of the watch as much for a skittish horse as for my actions on the Souport road.
So I stayed on my feet. Claighan had a longer way to go anyway, and I felt much less exposed leading the horse. I'm sure he appreciated the rest. And there, on my feet, I felt entirely lost within the crowd. In an instant I felt most of the tension escape me. Mounted I'd been terribly visible, but walking with the flow I found the crowds of the city more a blessing than a curse. Suddenly no on
e paid me any attention at all, and I drifted with the current of the city, flowing inexorably toward the gardens.
It might have taken me an hour to reach the bridge, and by the time I came in sight of it, most of my earlier fear was gone. I felt a touch of nervousness again when I saw the two guardtowers set into the foot of the bridge, but I moved closer and found them empty, roped off, and from the look of it they hadn't been put to use in a very long time.
The bridge itself was a marvel, an imposing military structure unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Made entirely of heavy worked stone, it arched up high over the surface of the river. And though it only stood fifty paces from one bank to another, the sides were dotted every three paces with either a small, closed guardhouse or a stone crenellation which could provide cover for an archer facing out. There were even several places where slits in the stonework allowed a glimpse of the river rushing below. As I spotted each clever new strategic structure along its length, I'd picture it in use. I walked from one end to the other with the thought of fighting in my mind, my imagination rich with thoughts of defenders trying to hold me back, of attackers trying to force me from some bulwark. It was a marvel, and I could easily imagine the full length of it dripping with blood.
At the far end my boots slapped against packed earth rather than worked stone, and in an instant I returned to the real world. Here, too, stood two long-abandoned guard towers, but no foes barred my way. Instead I looked out over a beautiful, flowered field—sculpted to seem like wild nature. A cool breeze blew steady off the great crystal lake, dancing among the many flowers and carrying on it only a sweet perfume—the odors of the city now gone. I resisted the pull of the lake and turned instead to my right, following a winding path until I came to an ancient stone wall. I remembered the view from outside the city, and here found before me the actual structure that held the bustling city away from this place of serenity. Through the stone I felt the dull throb of noise from the city without, but the flowers and trees that grew close here kept these worlds apart.
