by Nhys Glover
Behind me I heard the sound of giant wings flapping, and looked over my shoulder to see the airlings taking to the dark sky again. They would settle some leagues away for the necessary turns we needed to carry out our task and then return to us before the moon rose. I felt oddly bereft. And frightened. The only thing that stood between me and certain capture was the man who had already become a mere shadow in the darkness. Thank goodness he was leaving a trail of glowing stones, like tiny moons, in his wake for me to follow. We would need them to find our way back.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I followed Jaron into the night, praying we could do what was necessary and more.
By the time we reached the encampment I was puffing, and sweat was running in rivers down my spine and forehead. Jaron seemed to be fairing worse because the fabric of the uniform he wore was a heavy weave and included full-length sleeves.
I didn't look old enough to be a trooper, but there were always lads and ancients who accompanied any army, whose job it was to care for beastlings and men. I was to be one of them.
There were six fires set up roughly in a wide circle, around which tents were erected. Guards patrolled the whole perimeter. Our first task was to get past them. This meant watching for a while, to establish their patterns. Having spent a lot of time with Godslund troops, the Airluds had a good idea how their encampments worked. There would be several shifts over the course of the night. Not a moment would pass without there being someone on guard. Our job would be to wriggle in between the patrols.
We'd arrived two 'turns past sundown, and the evening meal would have finished or be close to finishing. The cleanup, carried out by boys such as me, would currently be underway. The men would be seeing to their weapons, drinking and talking around the fire for the next few turns, before heading to bed. At that time, there would be a shift change for the guards.
Therefore, we had a couple of turns to get the information we needed and then wait until the camp settled for the night before we sought out Calun. I prayed yet again that he was not badly hurt. A fall from a great height could have broken his back. If that had happened he would never walk again. And, if that were the case, we'd never be able to get him away from the army. Unless we attacked with a rebel force and slaughtered everyone. That wasn't what I signed up for. We needed to do this with minimal casualties.
After what felt like forever, but Jaron determined was no more than half a turn, we had calculated the movements of the guards. They passed our spot near the roped-off beastling enclosure every eighth of a 'turn. As long as we got in when one had just passed, and moved close to the fires by the time the next approached, then we'd be safe. At least from discovery by guards. What might happen with the troopers, well, that was another matter.
Jaron's task was to determine the amount of troopers; mine was to find out where Calun was being kept, how bad the gossip said he was, and how many other Elemental Masters were with them. I had to be within a stride and a half of whoever I was reading. Which meant getting close to the fires.
At Jaron's mental word, we moved briskly across the perimeter once the guard had safely passed and headed into the inner circle, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Not that there were many of those, given the area was free of trees and shrubs.
Once close enough, we relaxed and began assuming our roles. It always amazed me how most people accept a stranger's presence, as long as they look as though they belong. It's only people skulking around that draws attention.
'Meet back here in half a turn,' Jaron thought, as he began to amble away toward the closest fire.
Chapter Eight
FLEA
I saw a stack of wooden plates left over from the meal, sitting on the ground not far away, and quickly swept them up. It was then only a matter of making much of carrying them to the place where the dishwashing was taking place. If I looked like I was overloaded and focused on my job no one would look twice at me. The wig made sure I wouldn't stand out. The itch that started up soon after I donned it was the price I had to pay for my anonymity, and it was the least of my worries.
I caught sight of a boy of no more than ten carrying a load of plates from the next fire across. I followed behind him with my load. As soon as I was close enough, I began picking up his mental chatter. Most of it was about how he was expected to do all the work, while the lazy bastards sat on their backsides and did nothing. They'd even got to ride the whole journey back to Godslund, leaving the rest of them to walk. One day he was going to become a trooper and life would be easy from then on.
"What about the excitement today?" I said in his direction, coming abreast of him.
The boy looked at me in surprise and a little caution. "Who're you?"
"Jarq," I answered, adopting my friendliest manner. "My lud just joined the troopers this morn. Safer to travel with the army back to Godslund than alone, what with all the rebels stirring up trouble everywhere."
The boy accepted my explanation, as I knew he would. Who was he to know the comings and goings of his betters. Or the 'bastards', as he thought of them.
"Nomen," he gave his name in return. "You talking about the airling rider the Air Master brought down?"
The boy's mind was suddenly filled with the excitement of the event. He'd only seen a few airlings and their riders since taking on this job, and never watched a magical son at work before. Though he hadn't seen the man fall, he'd watched them carry him away into a tent belonging to the captain. The healer had been called and the higher-ups had been coming and going into the tent all afternoon. Nobody knew whether he would live or die. But from the activity, it seemed that he was at least still alive.
"Aye. I saw them take him to the captain's tent. I've been trying to find out if he broke his back or not. A long way to fall." I shuddered with exaggeration.
"Aye. Wouldn't get me on one of them beastlings. Not for nothing. Dunno how he's doing. Sham's been helping the healer. Maybe he knows."
"Sham?"
The boy nodded, dropping his collection of plates none too gently onto the growing pile by the cauldron of steaming water. I did the same with mine and looked about. There seemed to be no one in charge of the dishes. In fact, there seemed to be no one else around this particular fire.
"Where're the others?" I asked.
"Taking their time collecting plates. We all take turns doing the washing and drying, but the lad washing tonight is a slug. Probably off listening to the bastards talk. Needs a good boot up the back end, does that one. There's Sham. Let's see what he has to say." The lad had spotted a boy, not much older than himself, carrying more plates.
We waited for Sham to drop his plates before speaking, but I'd already picked his mind clean by then. I knew where the captain's tent was, that Calun had been remarkably lucky and his fall had resulted in no broken bones or internal injuries. Their main concern was the blow to his head. He had been in and out of consciousness all afternoon, and never made a sound. The captain had demanded he be woken up so he could be interrogated, but the healer said his hands were tied. If the rider didn't even groan from the pain, how did they expect to get words from him? He might have damaged his vocal chords when he fell.
"How's that airling rebel?" Nomen asked the new arrival, his tone filled with self-importance at being able to direct me to the source of information concerning their exciting new arrival.
"Something's wrong with his head. The healer thinks he might have injured something in his brain."
"Gone crazy, has he?" I asked, trying for more information. It was only a matter of pointing a mind in a certain direction and thoughts would follow.
"Maybe. Can't tell. We'll take him back to Godslund to the healing centre there and see what happens. Captain's going to have him moved into smaller lean-to until he comes around for longer periods. Wants his own quarters back for the night. Bit disgusted he is. Thought he'd caught himself a scout for the rebels. But if he can't talk, what use is he?"
In his mind I saw the lean-to S
ham had passed as he brought his master's plates here for washing. It was close to the healer's tent, so he could keep watch over him through the night. There'd be a guard, of course, but they didn't expect any trouble from him. Not if he didn't stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time.
This was our chance. We could go to the tent and say we were taking the prisoner to the lean-to. It would take a while for the soldiers to realise that he never arrived.
I said my farewells to my young companions and took off back to the soldiers' campfires. I knew approximately where the captain's tent was located − on the outer rim of the third fireplace, which was some distance from the fire, because he liked quiet. The captain also liked his comforts, and had hated taking to the roads, patrolling the area for signs of unrest. Lazy bastard, had been the healer's disgusted words, when he was told to move the seriously injured man to other less comfortable accommodation.
I spotted Jaron with a mug of ale. He laughed as he slapped a man on the back, and then staggered off, as if he'd had too much to drink. I trotted after him, trying not to attract attention. On the way I collected up more plates, grumbling under my breath when anyone noticed me. From their minds, I knew no one even registered my presence.
Jaron must have spotted me heading his way because he paused, looking like he was about to open his breeches for a piss. One of the soldiers passing by shoved him away from the tents. Jaron had righted his clothes by the time I reached him, and he made much of demanding I show him the way to the privy. Seems the damned things kept moving on him.
When we'd gained some privacy, I quickly told him what I knew. Jaron wasn't as excited by the news as I was.
'Even if we could get him away that easily, there won't be another airling for him to ride. That's if he stays conscious long enough to ride,' Jaron thought at me.
"Didn't Airsha ride with Dark when she was first found?" I whispered.
Jaron scowled. 'Darkin. Watch yourself, girl, or you'll get the boot. Our marriage is new and we're thin-skinned about it. We'll turn against anyone who attempts to undermine it.'
"It's just easier, that's all. So didn't she ride with him?"
He nodded. 'You're bigger than Airsha, though, and you'd have to hold Calun upright. And we couldn't get far. Not all the way home.'
"Far enough to be safe. What about magical sons?" I asked.
'Just the one Air Master. He keeps to himself and considers his presence here a waste of his valuable time. Or so a trooper in his cups was quick to tell me.'
"We have to do it. We'd need at least fifty rebels to take these on, and getting that many men here so quickly... And once they get closer to Godslund our chances will grow even worse." I was pleading, and I could see from his thoughts that he agreed with me. The idea of riding off without his brother was abhorrent.
In the end he jerked a nod, and I led the way to where I thought the captain's tent was located. We came up from behind it, keeping to the shadows created by the distant fire.
'Can you pick Calun up from here?' Jaron thought, as we pressed in as close to the back of the tent as possible.
I focused my mind on Calun, who should be in the tent. I saw some muddled images and then nothing. But at least I knew he was there, and that the boy had been right. He was in and out of consciousness.
'They'll have him on a camp-bed in there. Once inside, we have to take an end each. Are you going to be strong enough to carry him with me?'
Calun was probably the slightest of the brothers, but he was by no means a small man. But I wasn't a normal weak girl. I'd been carrying heavy loads of one kind or another for suns. I could do it for a short distance.
'Can you pick up the guard's thoughts?'
I focused. The tent was more than one and a half strides long. To read the man standing at the front, I'd need to get closer. I stole silently down the side of the tent furthest from the fire.
'Down!' Jaron yelled into my head. I instantly dropped to the ground, face first. A sharp rock dug into my hip, and I had to fight back a cry of pain.
What in the gods' names was happening?
'Guard passing three strides to your right,' came the hurried answer to the question I hadn't voiced.
I held my breath and kept as still as possible. Being found lurking around the back of the captain's tent, where a prisoner was being kept, would be very, very bad.
After what felt like forever, Jaron said, 'All clear. Get on with it.'
I wished I was close enough for him to see me thumb my nose at him, but I wasn't. So I grumbled some oaths under my breath, climbed to my feet again, and began edging closer to the front of the tent. The guard's thoughts suddenly came through, loud and clear.
He was expecting two guards to arrive shortly to take his prisoner. Once that was done he could go for his dinner. This broken rebel had upset everything. His feet were killing him and his neck ached. Thank the gods he wasn't on perimeter duty tonight. This was it for him; a whole night of unbroken sleep awaited him for a change.
I crept back to Jaron. "He's expecting two guards to come for Calun any moment. Then he goes to dinner."
'I've been thinking. We can't carry him out of the camp on a stretcher. We need to get him far enough away, and then carry him by the arms like he's drunk.'
"He'll look pretty obvious, dressed in his civilian tunic," I argued, thinking fast.
'Not if he's wearing a guard's jacket. I'll go to him, say I was sent to take the prisoner to the lean-to, but that my off-sider is too drunk to do his bit. Will he help? If not, I have to find someone else to replace him, and it'll be even longer till he can go for his dinner.
'The two of us'll carry him toward the healer's tent. You can come up behind him and hit him over the head with a rock. We tie and gag him, after taking his uniform.' Jaron's mind was a frenzy of ideas; these were only the few he'd accepted as viable.
I was going to have to hit a man over the head with a rock? What if I didn't hit him hard enough? What if I hit him too hard? I'd never had to physically hurt anyone in my life. I'd always been able to talk my way out of most situations, especially in the last few suns since my mind-reading became reliable.
Against my better judgement, I nodded.
'I'll get him to lead the way. When I give the word, I want you to come up fast from behind. Got it?'
I nodded again, biting at my bottom lip, a habit I thought I'd broken suns ago. What if dropping Calun hurt his head?
"Dropping Calun isn't a good idea," I muttered.
'I'll make sure his head is at my end and I'll lower him gently as the guard goes down.'
I sighed. This was never going to be a perfect plan. We knew that going in. We had our wits and that was about all. Luckily, both of us had plenty of those. If I had to go into a situation like this, Jaron was the best choice for a partner. He would have made a perfect conster and thief.
'Let's do it before the next guard passes by.'
I nodded and hung back, while Jaron sauntered around to the front of the tent. I could hear him talking to the guard. The man argued briefly, but in the end gave in. I knew from listening to his litany of mental complaints that the faster he got rid of his prisoner the happier he’d be.
They went inside the tent and, after some rustling and cursing, the guard's head appeared, followed quickly by his shoulders. Finally, the stretcher began to appear, with Calun's bare feet on display. I edged closer to the front of the tent, my gaze flicking around the area, looking for trouble. If the real guards sent to take Calun to his lean-to arrived we'd be done for.
In the next instant, Jaron appeared from the tent carrying the other end of the stretcher. Jaron kept up a steady prattle with the guard as we headed off towards the healer's tent.
There wasn't a lot of movement around the camp: the boys with their plates; a few drunken stragglers finding their beds early; and the rest by the fires, their voices carrying in the still night.
Someone was playing a pipe. I'd been told Calun played o
ne just like this, and was very talented. Of course he would be. Calun was magical. He was so superior to other men it amazed me that everyone else didn't see it.
I spied a rock large enough to do the job I'd been assigned, and yet not too big for me to hold in one hand. I needed to catch him on the temple if I wanted to bring him down. But a blow to the temple could kill a man. I didn't want to do that!
I picked it up and snuck up behind Jaron. He felt my presence and looked back. 'Good, you've got a decent rock. Ready?'
I nodded, even though I wasn't. I never thought I'd have to hurt anyone. I was just supposed to gather information. But I was the one who talked Jaron into taking Calun now. And I was right. If we didn't do it now, who knew what chances would be available later.
'Now!' Jaron thought, as we came up behind what appeared to be yet another dark and empty tent. Without allowing myself to second-guess the order, I dashed out from behind him and on to the guard. I'd thwacked him on the side of the head with the rock before he even realised I was there. The sickening sound had my stomach roiling.
He went down with a soft groan, the stretcher dropping before he himself hit the ground. Jaron was as good as his word. He had lowered Calun's head at much the same time and his injured brother now lay on the ground on the stretcher.
From out of his pouch Jaron pulled a thick leather strap used as part of the airling's packs. He quickly stripped off the unconscious trooper's tunic and his undershirt, then bound his hands behind his back with the strap. He tore the undershirt into strips and stuck one in a wadded lump in his mouth and held it in place with another that he tied at the back of his head. Lastly, he dragged the man into the shadows behind the tent. Unless someone came looking, a cursory glance would never pick him up.
Jaron had thrown the jacket at me as soon as he got it off the man, and I began to pull it up over one of Calun's arms. He came back to consciousness long enough to lean forward and put his other arm in the hole for me. His thoughts were muddled, but I knew he recognised my voice and wanted to help. His feelings of hope and desperation were easier to identify than words. And my own hope surged up inside me.
