The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library

by Frederick Kirchhoff

  Below the crest, the terrain fell into a wide, circular depression, surrounded by a rocky outcropping—like the chipped rim of a vast bowl, or a crater where something had once fallen to earth, sending fragments in all directions. On the far side of the depression, the land rose again, and it was just possible to make out a continuation of the road climbing into the foothills. A stream, probably the same they’d seen at their campsite, rose near the center of the depression, leaving the circle through a gap in the rim. The road at their feet zigzagged into the crater and headed for the patch of green that surrounded the spring, but it wasn’t this that captured their attention, for something else lay at the bottom of the depression—the remains of a circular stone platform, surrounded by uprights, some fallen, but many standing.

  “I want to see what it is,” Klei said excitedly.

  Jon wanted to go down as well—in fact, he felt strangely compelled to approach the circle, but he told himself they had to get back to Zoë before nightfall.

  “No—it’s farther away than it looks, and we promised Zoë we wouldn’t be long,” Jon told him. “I’m curious, too, Klei. I’d like to take a look at those standing stones. But for now it’s just another mystery—like the bench overlooking the Valley of Women. You must have seen that when you crossed the Boundary Mountain.”

  “Yes. I sat there to rest. Whoever made the bench must have enjoyed vistas. The view was glorious. I found it hard to tear myself away.”

  That thought had never occurred to Jon. He’d imagined the bench a place for surveillance, not enjoying the scenery. But Klei may have had the right idea.”

  And so they returned to Zoë.

  “You three,” she said. “Will you never learn to stop wasting your time wandering after things that don’t matter to anyone?”

  There was no reason to tell her all that they’d seen. She’d only dismiss it as one more sign of a past they’d never understand. But Jon still wanted to justify their detour.

  “We found out where the stream begins—it flows from a spring in a valley. I suspect it’s a permanent source of fresh water.”

  “Well, that’s worth knowing,” Zoë acknowledged. “Not that it’s likely we’ll ever come this way again.”

  ▲

  The old road took no note of Bridgetown, skirting the western foothills, but that made sense, since it had been here before the bridge and city were built. And beyond the escarpment it had survived as a country lane, running through fields and orchards.

  After four hours, Zoë stopped at a crossroads.

  “It’s time to turn east,” she said. “By my reckoning the city lies in that direction.”

  “The one place where there’s a cloud,” Alf pointed out.

  “It’s not a cloud,” Jon replied. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  Even as they watched, the cloud grew, rising higher and darkening.

  “It’s a fire, isn’t it?” Klei said. “They must have built a fire at the gate.”

  “Or they’re burning more farmsteads,” Alf said. “Alice told us they’d burned two last time.”

  “They’re not burning farmsteads,” Jon responded. “A farmstead wouldn’t make that much smoke.”

  “You think it’s the town, don’t you,” Zoë said.

  “Yes, I think it’s the town.” He looked grim.

  “How far now?”

  “An hour—two hours at the most.”

  ▲

  Approaching, they saw tongues of flame amidst the smoke. The walls may have been stone, but the buildings inside were timber. Once a fire started, it would have been hard to contain. From appearances, all of Bridgetown must have been on fire, although it may have been restricted to one side of the river. At a farm near the South Gate, they found a family loading a wagon and a small cart, while three cows and a young horse watched the proceedings.

  “What has happened?” Zoë asked the old man directing the operation.

  “Can’t you see? They’re burning the city. Soon they’ll be upon us as well.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The men in white. Who else could it be? A townsman came to warn us last night. He said they were camped by the North Gate, so for a time this side was free of them, but they’d likely go upstream and cross the river to reach us. He warned us to be ready to leave our houses, and to go south, beyond the fords, where it was safe. But we’d have to keep away from the River Road at first. See that fire over there?”

  He pointed not to the town but to the west.

  “What’s that?”

  “Tom Handel’s farm. He must have already left. As we go, we’re supposed to burn our houses so to leave nothing. It kills me to fire my son’s barn with his cattle inside. Happily he’s not here to see it—he went to fight for the Emperor, you see. But his wife agrees that’s what we have to do. We’re bringing a few animals—but we couldn’t take them all.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. Those in the barn are already dead—killed with a stroke of the knife. What else could I do? If I’d turned them loose, they’d only become food for the enemy.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “Didn’t you hear? We’re going to the South—as far as we can get. I only wish I knew what we’ll find there.”

  Jon spoke up.

  “I know where you can go.”

  “Where, boy? The only town south of here I know of is Hexam, but if a walled city like Bridgetown isn’t safe, Hexam won’t be either. My hope is that once they destroy Bridgetown they’ll leave us in peace. They can’t intend to kill every soul in the Southland. Still, I want to get as far away as we can.”

  “The place I have in mind is beyond Hexam,” Jon told him, and went on to describe the village beside Bent Lake and the land north and south of the lake that, from what he’d heard, remained unfarmed.

  “There’s a pass to go through, but the merchants make it without trouble, so you can manage it.”

  The man had heard of Bent Lake, although it was only a name. “How many days from Bridgetown?” he asked.

  “I could walk there in six days.”

  “Our wagon isn’t that fast, and the cattle will slow us, but your six days we should be able to do in eight or ten. Thank you for what you’ve told us. But we can’t stay to talk, and I’d advise you to come with us. It’s not safe here for anyone.”

  “We can’t leave yet,” Jon said. “But good speed to you and your family.”

  As they watched, the farmer drove the wagon a short distance away, his daughter-in-law following with the cart, which held her five children. Then he stopped, leapt down, and ran back to the house. A minute later, he emerged with a flaming brand, which he carried into the barn. In another minute he was back on the wagon and they’d resumed their drive. Behind them, the first smoke began to rise from the barn, and moments later the house, too, was in flame. The children screamed in delight. To them, it was a wonderful game.

  The four companions turned away and walked quickly toward Bridgetown.

  ▲

  The South Gate was open, but no one was there. The buildings nearest the gate were rubble, still burning in places. Had the fire been started to prevent flight or had it had another purpose? In any case, nothing was to be done here.

  “Do you think Alice and her mother escaped?” Alf asked. “Their house wasn’t far from the South Gate.”

  Jon looked at Zoë. Had her brothers been in the town and, if so, where were they now?

  But Zoë was examining the ground in the vicinity of the gate.

  “There are signs of people leaving here,” she said, “but not of an approaching force. I don’t think the enemy ever made it to the South Gate.”

  “But then who set the fire?” Klei asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  But Jon had an idea.

  “If anyone escaped through the South Gate, then they must be on this side of the river. We didn’t pass fugitives on our way here, other than the man who was taking his daughter-in-law
and grandchildren south.”

  “So you believe the others went that way as well?” Zoë asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s the direction we must go ourselves,” she said. “This place is dangerous. The farmer was right; we should have gone with him. Remember, we have provisions for only one more day.”

  Once they’d left the city, it became clear that many had recently traveled this way on the River Road. Horses and cattle had passed only hours ago, and Alf found a cloth doll a child must have dropped.

  “Look over there!” Klei pointed across the river.

  A group of horsemen had come down to the water’s edge and were looking around. Then, at a command from their leader, they turned back and disappeared beyond a low rise, but no one doubted their identity.

  “The Brotherhood are looking for a place to cross the river.”

  “Yes, but seeing them here means they don’t know where the safe fords are located,” Jon said. “If they’re only now looking for a suitable crossing we may make the nearest ford before they do.”

  Zoë smiled.

  “Just what I was thinking myself,” she told Jon. “But from what I remember that ford can’t be far from here.”

  Not long afterwards, they heard shouting ahead of them on the road.

  Running forward, they came in sight of a group of men and women clustered near the riverbank. A dozen horsemen were attempting to cross the river from the far side, but several of the horses had fallen, and three of the men were slumped forward in their saddles. One man was struggling in the current, and the horsemen still on shore were backing away from the river. The twang of a bow told them what was happening. At that moment, an arrow hit another of the riders squarely in the face and he fell from his horse into the stream.

  Zoë ran forward to join the marksmen. But by now the last member of the Brotherhood still on horseback had made his way out of range, and was scrambling up the east bank. Recognizing the Forester garments, the marksmen welcomed her. They were all old men and old women, with the exception of one boy who couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

  “We thought they’d make an attempt to cross here,” one of the men told Zoë. “It’s only safe here when the river is at its lowest, but we promised to guard the crossings while the rest of our people made their escape.”

  “So they got away.”

  “Some but not all. But where have you come from?”

  “We came to meet my brothers in Bridgetown. Were there Foresters there?” Zoë asked.

  “Yes, at least two dozen of them. They fought beside us at the bridge. But look, the horsemen are turning back the way they came. We feared they might go on river to the next ford. It’s an easier crossing, so it would be harder to stop them there, but fortunately they appear to have given up. Just what you’d expect from the Brotherhood,” he added sarcastically.

  “They may be trying to deceive you,” Jon pointed out.

  “You think so? Well, that’s possible. We’ll stay here awhile and then catch up with the others. No one would dare the river by night. It’s too dangerous.”

  They moved to the shade of a group of trees.

  “How did they burn Bridgetown?” Jon asked the man who’d been speaking with them.

  “I can’t say who first started the burning. But it’s undeniable that someone let them into the town. They must have overpowered the guards at the North Gate. We think it was the people who spoke for the Chosen when we met to discuss their threat—curse them and their so-called piety. I told my wife their talk about religion was a way to pull the wool over our eyes. Nobody carries on about the will of god who doesn’t have mischief in mind.

  “Once the enemy got in, they began forcing their way into houses and killing anyone they could find. They must have wanted to make a lesson of Bridgetown, but such senseless violence!

  “Fortunately, with an enemy at the walls, few were sleeping soundly. Once the alarm was given, the able bodied hurried to fight and most of the rest made it over the river. It was then that someone started a fire near the North Gate. Maybe one of them or maybe one of us—who can tell?.

  “When I learned they’d entered the town, I feared we hadn’t a chance—so many had left to fight for the Emperor. But the Foresters made a stand with us at the bridge, and that’s what enabled people to escape through the South Gate.”

  “But who started the fire there?”

  “That I can tell you. We did it—later—when we thought everyone was out. Not all made it, of course, although we waited ‘til the last moment before setting fire to the houses near the gate. We did it to prevent the enemy from coming after us, and we were right. Although the fire has probably burned itself out by now, and so they may be on the way already. But I think not.”

  “Why?” Jon asked.

  “They’ll be waiting for the Brotherhood to return. They sent them after us and we sent them back. That may annoy them, but they know we’re the losers. Our city’s a ruin and we’re in flight. Once you’ve eaten the cake, who cares about the crumbs. Yet, if they knew how few of us opposed them, they wouldn’t be congratulating themselves on their victory.”

  Dusk had fallen, so they felt safe to leave the ford and hurried along the road in silence. The weight of events was too much for speech. Near dawn, they reached the carts and wagons moving south. Like them, none had stopped for the night. Yet with the light all made a halt. The animals needed rest, and it was time for discussion. Zoë made her way forward, followed by her companions, and eventually reached a group on a slope beside the road engaged in intense debate.

  “There he is,” the old man they’d met yesterday said, indicating Jon. “He’s the one who spoke of a land beyond Hexam where we could defend ourselves.”

  “But he’s only a boy,” someone countered.

  “It doesn’t matter, if he’s been there and seen things.”

  “I am not a boy,” Zoë announced, entering the group. “And neither is Jon. And what he’s told you is true. My mother and her sister have gone there to prepare a place for you. Bent Lake is the name of the land, and it is there that our people must live.”

  She speaks with incredible authority, Jon thought. He could never have pitched his voice in that tone of command. And yet it was his message, for wasn’t Zoë only repeating his words to the farmer’s father? Not that Jon begrudged her anything—especially now, when one or both of her remaining brothers might have been killed at the bridge. The marksmen had said that Foresters had died there. And they’d found no trace of Karl and David on the road. That could mean Zoë was the only one left of Helen’s children.

  “I’ve found her,” Klei announced, running up to Jon.

  “Found whom?”

  “Alice. She’s on one of the farm wagons.”

  “With her mother?”

  “No, her mother wasn’t with her.”

  So at least one of their two Bridgetown friends was safe.

  ▲

  Late the next day they came to Hexam. Here, the refugees were made welcome, fed, and in some cases taken in by relatives. Jon made a point of speaking cordially to Stanax, whose mother invited Zoë and her companions to stay with her, but Stanax was clearly confused by Jon’s efforts at friendship. They were so different from the ice of their first encounter. In the end, a few of the villagers from Hexam decided to join the exodus to the South, although most, including Flossie and her children, said they’d stay put, but be ready to flee into the mountains if the Chosen or the Brotherhood threatened them.

  “We’ll post sentinels, both north and south,” a man explained.

  But how would they get word to Hexam in time for its people to leave safely? Still, Jon knew that nothing he’d say would alter their plans.

  Alice, who’d been traveling with her aunt’s family, left them to join Zoë’s party, but the old cheerfulness had passed from her face.

  “How did you escape?” Alf asked her.

  “Someone hammered at the door in the m
iddle of the night. At first I thought it was a dream, but it turned out to be all too real.

  “A woman said that the Chosen had taken the North Gate and were killing anyone they found. They were stopped at the bridge, she said, but it was only a matter of time before they’d cross to our side of the river. We had so few to oppose them, you understand.

  “Mother told me to gather up what I could and go to her sister’s farm. She’d follow, but first she wanted to help with the defense of the bridge. She took an old sword Father had left behind and hugged me before she left the house. That’s the last I saw of her. I’m sure she’s dead—killed with the others who fell at the bridge.”

  How easily these people talked of death. It was the same way with Helen when she’d learned about John. It’s not that Alice had no feelings—her grief was palpable—but she’d never say what she felt.

  “When I got to my aunt’s house, they were already leaving, so I joined them and set off in the line of wagons and cattle. Looking behind, you could see flames from the city. It was frightening, but if Mother died, she died a good death. Father and my brothers would be proud of her.”

  They were silent for a long time, and then Jon asked a question.

  “Tell me, Alice, in the days before the arrival of the Chosen, were there Foresters in Bridgetown?”

  “I forgot. Zoë asked me to look for her brothers and tell them she’d be back. And I did exactly that. I asked a Forester if Karl and David were there and they took me to them, so I delivered Zoë’s message directly.”

  “What did they say?” Zoë asked.

  “Nothing in particular. They thanked me—that was all.”

  “Yes, that would have been their way. But do you know what happened to them afterwards?”

  “I wish I could tell you. They say Foresters died at the bridge, alongside Mother, but after we’d left Bridgetown, a group of fast-moving men and women passed us. I couldn’t make out their faces, but my aunt said they were Foresters. If I’d realized who they were, I’d have tried to find out if your brothers were with them, but they were walking fast and everything was confused.”