"Whoever dressed this wound did a fine job of it."
"There you go, Kal. Like I said." Galli smiled at his friend.
"But he's unconscious. And running a fever." Broq placed a palm on Frysan's brow and glanced up at Kal. Firelight played on the Telessarian's face, etching in shadow a frown of concern. "We must wait 'til morning before moving him. He'll need a good night's rest. For now, we will remain camped here." Broq rose to his feet.
"Who are you? How did you find us?" Kal said, his words edged with impatience.
"A moment, Master Kalaquinn. Let not my arrival be an occasion for you to let down your guard. From what I have been able to learn, the woods hereabouts are clear of the enemy. Still, Kenulf's presence leaves a nagging doubt. While Ferabek has withdrawn the most part of his troops from the highlands, he is no fool. He's clearly left a rearguard to forestall the possibility of your escape on the windward side of the mountains. I suggest that a guard be posted while we talk."
"Very well, Broq," Kal said, eyeing the Telessarian warily. "Gwyn, what say you to standing watch now?" The young Holdsman nodded and walked with bow in hand towards the tree at the edge of the clearing where Galli had positioned himself earlier.
"Mind you keep your eyes trained on the forest, lad, not the fire, else you'll see naught in the surrounding darkness," Broq said to the boy. Gwyn stopped in midstride and turned. He nodded again in quick acknowledgement and retired to his watchpost.
With a sigh, Broq lowered himself cross-legged to the ground before the campfire, then undid a waterskin that hung from his belt and lifted it to his mouth. From a dwindling pile of fuel, Galli threw a few gnarled pieces of deadwood branch on the fire, sending up a swirl of orange sparks and rousing the flames. Then he, too, sat by the crackling fire and poked at the embers with a stick.
Kal had fixed the stranger with a grim stare the whole while. He stood, his arms folded, across the rekindled fire from Broq. Galli glanced up at his companion.
"Kal?" he said.
Broq lifted his eyes to the Holdsman across from him, then let his gaze drop again to the fire, shaking his head slowly, a wry grin creasing his face.
"You are a suspicious lot, but perhaps it is best to be so. It was Aelward who sent me to find you," said Broq, his hands holding the skin of water. "Aelward Lamkin, the Flockmaster of the West, 'him as lights shepherds home and carries the dropped foals.' "
"Re'm ena! Do not speak in riddles." Kal's hand fell to the hilt of the sword by his side. "Do not try my patience, Master Telessarian—"
"Stay your hand, my lord Hordanu. Know that I would have you cut, bled, and trussed ere you drew that blade. But know also that I have come in peace and friendship to your aid, to assist you in any way that I am able. What may I offer you as pledge of my true intent?"
"Stay, Kal, stay. Have no fear. He speaks in truth. He's a friend," Galli said, dropping the stick he held and scrambling to his feet, facing Kal.
"Indeed, my lord Myghternos Hordanu. Make no mistake. As a bard, I pledge my life in your service, as does Aelward." Broq rose from the ground and inclined his head in a gesture of deference, while the fingers of his right hand strayed to the glinting pios brooch.
Kal sighed heavily and eased his stance. "My apologies, Master Broq. I trust your good faith, not least thanks to your brother and my friend, Galligaskin." Kal placed a hand on Galli's shoulder, then sank to sit on the ground. The two others also sat. Galli took up his stick again and resumed poking at the fire.
"It's just that Wilum, too, mentioned this Aelward fellow," Kal continued. "And in like manner, through hints, and that only at the last, when disaster had already overtaken us."
"But, Kal, even Wilum seemed uncertain and said he didn't actually know who Aelward was," Galli said.
"And, to tell the very truth, nor do I, strange as it may seem," said Broq, unfolding his legs and leaning forward before the fire. "Know first and foremost that I serve Aelward as a wise and ageless master. But until you meet him yourselves . . . Well, let what I have said be enough."
"Aye, good then, Broq, let it be so." Kal nodded his assent. "Wilum said that he and Aelward communicated with each other—"
"Used pigeons to send messages to one another," Galli said, shifting a log and sending up another shower of sparks.
"I would not do that, Galligaskin," Broq said, glancing up at the young Telessarian. Galli dropped his stick.
"He said he'd been waiting for word from Aelward for some time," Kal continued. "It was overdue, and Wilum was worried. Then he sent that last message, sent but never received. In it, Wilum told Aelward that the Holding was lost."
"A fact that we learned by other means," Broq said. "Hosts of enemy troops combed the highlands searching for you and the Holdsfolk in the wake of the assault. News has spread quickly, news of the Hordanu's death and the fall of the Great Glence. Gawmage now trumpets his victory and that of his liege lord, proclaiming 'the end of the old order.' And the Talamadh. The Talamadh has been paraded as a victory trophy in Dinas Antrum."
Kal shot a pained glance to Broq, startled, as if he had been pricked by a pin. Broq caught Kal's look, nodded, then returned his gaze to the fire.
"And Aelward has also learned that Messaan, the Mindal's lapdog and false Hordanu, intends to sing the orrthon to its accompaniment in a grand spectacle when the final highland clanholdings are brought to heel and Ferabek returns to Dinas Antrum."
The tidings hung heavy over the group.
"But how did you know where to find us?" Kal asked, breaking the silence.
"Aelward was also aware of the secret path leading from Lammermorn. Indeed, Wilum had mentioned it to him as a possible way of escape in a time of calamity. With this in mind, Aelward sent me to these parts to lie in wait and watch for you and help you out of danger. In my watchful roamings, I discovered the encampment of your folk even before they had arrived. The folk of Folamh are more adept at stealth in their caverns and tunnels than they are in the aboveground woodlands. It is good that there were no Black Scorpion Dragoons around, for I tracked the scouts with little effort and found the place they had prepared for the remnant folk of Lammermorn.
"When I came upon the encampment of the Holdsfolk, I managed to convince them of my good faith. But that only by the very skin of my teeth, I might add. You are, indeed, a suspicious lot. Especially you men. I'd give more for your womenfolk. At least they're canny enough to tell the difference between friend and foe. It was a young slip of a girl named Marya that won the rest of them over for me. Starting with your mother, Master Kalaquinn."
"No doubt Gammer gave you a good tongue-lashing for your efforts before she was convinced," Kal said with a chuckle.
"Gammer? Ah, yes, Goodwife Clout. In her might be found the Holdsfolks' fiercest means of defence." Broq smiled. "They are a good people and showed much concern for you. When you were late in arriving, they feared some mischance had befallen you. I took it upon myself to seek you out." Broq paused in his talk for a moment, and the snap and spit of burning wood filled the silence before he continued. "But now, Master Hordanu, what plan have you in mind for your people?"
Kal shifted on the ground, then looked at Broq. "Wilum suggested we make for the Marshes of Atramar and Aelward's Cot," he said. "We will follow that course."
"A good plan. It is a good plan, and one of which Wilum informed Aelward, and with which Aelward concurs. There is a problem, however. South Wold and Thrysvarshold are still heavily garrisoned with enemy troops. Among them are no small number of Telessarian trackers. Aelward has decided that the surest way for you to reach the marshlands is by ship rather than overland."
"By ship?"
"Indeed, by ship, Master Kalaquinn. One awaits us at Kingshead Cove, a small sheltered inlet that lies out of the way just north of the Black Cape."
"Aye, I remember Kingshead Cove from the map."
"Good. Aelward has arranged passage up the western coast of the highlands to a landing place close to the Asgarth Fores
t on the far side of the Sheerness Spur, near the marshlands. That way, we'll sidestep the places of highest danger."
"Sounds like an excellent arrangement, don't you think, Kal?" Galli said.
"Indeed, it does. We're in your debt, Master Broq."
"No, do not thank me. You may thank Aelward when you meet him. Besides, it'll be no safe and easy journey. Reaching the Cove itself will require some care, what with children in tow and a wounded man, too." Broq glanced to where Frysan lay. "There's no telling what dangers lurk even in these remote upland places. As I said before, Ferabek has undoubtedly left a rearguard. The situation is uncertain. Which is why it is time to retire. Tomorrow brings a long day and unknown perils. We'll want to return to your people at dawn's light. The sooner we make our way to the Cove, the better."
"But what about the watches for the remainder of the night?" Galli said.
"I'm better rested than are you," said Broq. "I will relieve Master Fletcher and keep this watch. You three may take your sleep. Rest while you may. You will need it."
"Wake me for the third watch," Kal said. "I'll take it 'til dawn."
Kal felt a gentle tugging at his shoulder. It felt like he had only just fallen asleep, huddled in his cloak next to his father. He became aware of the intense warmth of Frysan's body beside him. Remembering the urgency of the last time he had been woken during that night, he opened his eyes.
"Come, Master Kalaquinn. Wake up."
It was Broq.
"It's Frysan. He has taken a turn for the worse. Just now."
Kal heard low moans and mumbling beside him. Staggering to his feet, Kal rubbed his bleary eyes. The fire had subsided to coals. The air felt chill. Glancing up to the sky, he could tell from the position and pulsing brilliance of the Longbowman that the second watch of the night had ended.
"The arrow point. Do you still have the quarrel?" Broq asked as he knelt hunched over Frysan.
"What?" asked Kal, still groggy, as he placed more wood on the campfire, coaxing it into flame.
"The one you pulled from him. I must see it. His fever is worsening. He burns to the touch, and I fear that he begins to rave."
"The quarrel? I . . . I can't remember. It was Gwyn. He pulled it out and—"
"Was he careful? Did he cut himself on it?"
Kal stood mute for a moment. "I don't think so . . . . I don't know. He didn't say anything."
On the other side of the fire, Gwyn stirred, opening his eyes, then cast aside his cloak and fumbled for his night pouch. Galli, now woken from his sleep as well, slowly propped himself up on an elbow, watching from his bed of boughs.
Gwyn struggled to his feet. Before him, in his right hand, he held the broken dart that had pierced Frysan, still wrapped in the torn cloth in which he had placed it. He turned quickly to bring it to Broq and stumbled.
"Slow down, lad. Don't let one of those barbs nick you, if it's what I think it is. Pass it to me . . . . Carefully. Very slow and easy," Broq said. With delicate fingers, he lifted the wickedly shod arrowpoint from Gwyn's hand. "You didn't cut yourself on this, did you? Even a scratch?"
Gwyn shook his head.
"That is no small wonder, no small wonder."
Broq brought the thing close to his nose and sniffed at it warily. Then, bearing it at arm's length before him, with the three Holdsmen following uncertainly at his heels, he walked to a nearby boulder caught in the ring of firelight. He placed the quarrel in a shallow depression formed naturally atop the rock. From his skin he poured some water into the bowl, submerging most of the arrowhead.
"As I thought. Sumokhan," Broq muttered.
"What do you mean, 'sumokhan'?" Kal asked.
"It's a mortal festering poison, odourless and tasteless. But look how it turns water cloudy on contact. A sure test of its presence."
"You mean to say that Kenulf used a poisoned arrow?" Galli said.
"Yes, or rather that he poisoned the arrow. Sumokhan is a frightfully potent substance to work with. Too potent. Often does more damage to the one using it than to an enemy." Broq turned an eye on Gwyn. "Wuldor smiled upon you, lad. A mere scratch can be deadly. I've always held that only a fool uses sumokhan."
Frysan moaned again, more loudly. Kal turned back to his father's side, a step ahead of the others.
"If I were you, I would discard that codynnos of yours." Broq continued speaking to Gwyn. "You were very fortunate not to be harmed." Broq stepped away from the boulder towards the fire and with a flick tossed the broken quarrel into the glowing embers as though dispatching a venomous serpent.
"What shall we do now?" Kal asked tensely, leaning over his father. "How can we help him?"
"There's not much we can do. Let the poison take its course. Sometimes a stricken man may survive the ravages of the fever," Broq said.
"But not often. Is that what you're saying?" Kal said. His voice quavered with frustration and grief.
"It depends on his constitution."
"What are his chances, then?"
Broq faced Kal, looking at him squarely. "I've heard report of only one man who has survived. From what I was told, he spent days like this, in a fever, hovering between life and death."
"Is there no remedy?"
"None."
"Nothing we can do? Nothing at all?" Kal's tone betrayed his growing desperation.
"Make him comfortable. A cool compress will drain the heat and—"
Gwyn had drifted to their side and was resting his hand on Kal's arm, looking at him intently.
"What, Gwyn? What is it?"
Gwyn reached to where Kal's codynnos lay on the ground, drew it towards himself, then lifted it and handed it to Kal. Kal took the leather satchel, unbuckled its straps, and opened the flap. He looked inside the codynnos and then back at Gwyn with a puzzled frown.
"What do you mean, Gwyn? Here, you show me." Kal handed Gwyn his night pouch. The mute lad rifled through it and extracted a parchment sheet, giving it to Kal and laying aside the satchel.
"The map Wilum gave me?"
Gwyn dipped his head, urging Kal to open it.
"It's a map of Arvon," Kal said to himself as much as to anyone else, unfolding the broad sheet and looking to Broq. "We spread it out to dry in the palace library after my near drowning in Nua Cearta. I think Gwyn's spent as much time looking it over as I have."
Gwyn crowded close to Kal, grabbed hold of an edge of the opened sheet, scored with creases where it had been folded, and jabbed at it with his forefinger.
"What is he pointing to?" Broq asked, leaning forward.
Kal peered at the map. "The Woods of Tircoil on the Black Cape," Kal said. Gwyn tapped his finger insistently on the parchment, and Kal looked more closely. "It's the ancient ruins of Ruah's Well, I think. Yes, he's got his finger on Ruah's Well."
Gwyn withdrew his hand, grinning.
"The springwater at Ruah's Well . . . ," Broq said, rubbing his chin with a hand. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then said, "Centuries ago, the spring was renowned for its healing waters."
"For Frysan's wounds?" Galli said.
"Yes, indeed—if the Well hasn't fallen into complete ruin and its spring dried up. Its waters were once a wonderful health-giving remedy for the sick and infirm, and might still be. But it lies far off our path, a good day's journey from here, deep in the forests of the Black Cape."
"Wilum spoke of the Woods of Tircoil," Kal said. "A dark and dangerous place, by his account, filled with things unnatural. Waldscathes, he said, and who knows what unnamed perils. You remember that, Galli."
"Aye, that was something of what he said that kept my attention."
Broq shook his head. "No. Even I myself have never really ventured there," he said. "In my scouting and watching, I've skirted the Woods of Tircoil, but never have I entered far into the forest. Odd to think that there was a time in the past when Ruah's Well was a much-frequented place. But in the years upon years, the Woods have grown thick over the Black Cape, and a darkness deeper than the
Woods broods over it. I doubt that one could even get close to the Well, let alone find its ruins. No, abandon that notion. It would be an impossible venture and foolhardy to even consider."
Gwyn shook his head, pushed himself off the ground, and went to stand beside Frysan. The wounded man's face was ashen, sweat-soaked, and twisted with pain.
"No," Kal said. "No, it cannot be. I can feel it. There must be a way. We have no choice. Without it, he will die."
"But my lord Kalaquinn," Broq said, his hands thrown up and his brow raised in anxious concern. "Your folk await your presence and my guidance for the journey to Kingshead Cove. Every moment that we linger brings fresh danger of discovery. This reckless undertaking that you propose will cause a delay of two days, two days at least, while I journey to Ruah's Well, or what might be left of it, and back again. No, it's madness. No, no, Kalaquinn." Broq shook his head gravely. There was no gainsaying his logic—his tone made that clear. Kal's brows furrowed in thought.
"No, I know I must do something. I cannot let him die."
"At what cost, Kalaquinn? At the cost of your people? Your father is a man of no little hardihood. Aelward still speaks with admiration of his exploits in Dinas Antrum as a Life Guardsman." Kal looked at Broq with surprise. "Yes, Aelward knew of your father many years ago, during the desperate time of the uncrowning. There's iron in his bones and sinews. You must trust that he stands a better chance than most men of surviving the effects of sumokhan."
"No, Master Broq. Galli and I, we'll carry him to Ruah's Well while you and Gwyn return to the camp of our folk. If fate is kind, the three of us will meet you at Kingshead Cove by way of Hoël's Dyke."
"What madness you speak!" Broq stood, his fists clenched by his sides. "How do you think to bear a sore-wounded man by stretcher through the unknown dangers of the Black Cape? And what is more, you are my lord Myghternos Hordanu, with a duty as High Bard towards all of Ahn Norvys. To endanger yourself like this and set Aelward's designs at nought—"
"It must be done, Master Broq. It shall be done. I will not be hindered in my purpose. In these times, my appointed role is rife with danger, whether I depart now with you or undertake this side journey. If I turn aside from this smaller task and forestall its success, I know in my heart that I cannot expect to accomplish the foreordained tasks in the larger mission I have been given. Besides all of this, as Hordanu, I am a healer, and I would betray my calling were I not to seek out any means possible to heal the one besides the many."
Darkling Fields of Arvon Page 13
