Illengond Read online

  Elynna arrived at the boat first, with Tienna and Namha just steps behind her. Braga and Bandor still held the rounded stern, but despite their efforts the gale had pushed the boat back toward shore. The boat now slapped on the rocks as the wind whipped madly about them, almost knocking Elynna off her feet. She lowered her head. With one foot in the water, she grabbed the gunwales and hauled herself over as her companions urged her on from within. Tienna jumped in right beside her. When Elynna found her feet inside the boat, she turned and saw that Namha was standing on the shore beside Braga and Bandor helping them hold the boat. Namha yelled something at the other two, and motioned with his arms.

  “Get in,” Nahoon shouted. “He wants you in.”

  Bandor and Braga obeyed, and climbed into the boat. Only Namha remained in the water. He began to push the boat off the shore, wrestling it against the wind by sheer strength. He was ankle deep, then knee deep, and then up to his thighs. He gave one final push and with a single fluid motion leapt over the sides and into the vessel.

  Somehow they had all made it to the boat. But Elynna felt no relief yet. Her companions seemed to be in turmoil, all shouting different directions. Bandor’s voice boomed over them all. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Elynna looked around, wondering why the boat didn’t move. Falien and Noab had already dropped two oars on the opposite sides in the oarlocks that Breanga had fashioned earlier. They were rowing hard, but the boat was standing still or even creeping backward toward the shore. Cathros held a third oar but he wasn’t using it. Then Elynna saw to her dismay that Breanga was still shaping a fourth oar. His head was bent in concentration over a thick and gnarly branch of wood. One end had the shape of a blade, but it was not ready for use.

  She looked back toward the shore. Already dim shapes were visible coming through the woods toward the shoreline. She added her voice to Bandor’s frantic shouts. Cathros dropped an oar into the third oarlock. The three blades bit into the water as Falien, Noab, and Cathros together strove against the growing fury of the wind. But three pairs of arms were not enough against such a wind. Instead of moving out into the lake, the boat started to spin and slip more quickly backwards. They were moments from sliding onto the rocks, or spinning broadside to the wind.

  Terrified, Elynna turned once more toward the woods. Even by moonlight she could see that the haphazard attack of a few moments ago had been replaced by a disciplined formation of soldiers marching toward the water with weapons drawn. In the first line came fifteen blue uniforms. Several more followed behind while more Citadel soldiers poured out of the woods with each instant. And fifty yards to the right came another group of twenty or more foes in the sheepskin garb of the Undeani.

  Cathros, Falien, and Noab struggled mightily with their oars, seeking to drive the boat into the fierce wind. Their motion back toward the shore stopped with the stern only fifteen feet into the lake,. But they could make no headway. The soldiers were forty yards away from the shore now. The water was no more than three feet deep. They would have no trouble reaching the boat. One of the officers barked orders. Elynna recognized Golach’s face covered with a snarling grin at the hopeless plight of his quarry. At his command, the advancing line stopped. Fifteen soldiers sheathed their swords and pulled bows from the shoulders. In unison they nocked arrows on their strings.

  A volley of darts flew through the air toward the helpless companions.

  Elynna cried out a warning, but there was nothing they could do. The shafts sped toward their targets. Yet despite the short distance, not a single one reached the ship. The wind pushed hard against their flight, and the arrows plummeted down into the water by the shore’s edge. The archers stared in dismay while Golach cursed them. But a moment later, Elynna heard Golach’s wicked laugh over the sound of the wind. He could see what was happening. The boat was still frozen in place. For all their efforts, Cathros, Falien, and Noab managed only a stalemate against the wind. The captain barked more orders. The soldiers put their bows aside and once more drew their swords. Struggling against the wind, they came on.

  Grimly, several of Elynna’s companions in the back of the boat drew their own weapons and awaited the inevitable battle. Then came a twang and a hiss. Elynna looked behind her to see Bandor standing in the boat, bow in hand. Unlike the Citadel archers, however, he was shooting with the wind. His arrow flew straight into the chest of an approaching enemy soldier and dropped him like a stone. At once Braga was at his side. Two more arrows flew from their strings and two more soldiers fell. Of the next two arrows, only one found a mark, but it was enough. The line of soldiers faltered.

  Then a motion nearer at hand caught Elynna’s attention. Breanga had collapsed, but in his open hands was a fourth oar, finished. Braga needed no urging. Setting his bow in Amark’s hands, he grabbed the fourth oar and added his muscles to those of the other three. The boat inched forward and the distance to shore grew. Yet it grew by inches and feet, and uniformed soldiers as well as Undeani hunters were still coming down through the woods. The fleeing companions were only thirty feet farther. Golach flew at his men in rage, driving them toward the water’s edge, heedless of their safety. Brandishing their swords, they threw themselves into the icy water and began wading out. Others knelt at the shore and drew their bows.

  Exhausted, Noab passed his oar to his brother who took up the rhythm. The boat was thirty yards out now. The pursuing soldiers had covered half that distance, but now they were up to their waists in water and the going was slow. Four of them fell to the bow of Bandor. Golach’s archers took a few shots, but with no success shooting into that wind.

  Elynna, however, had enough experience with seas and winds. She knew they had more to contend with than Golach and could not yet breath safely. The four oarsmen could barely keep the boat straight. They would get the nose into the wind from one side and it would swing them around to the other. “This is a Norther,” Braga shouted over the wind. “It’ll last all night. We’ll never survive out here.”

  Patches of clouds soared overhead with the wind, passing across the stars and moon. Even in the dim light Elynna could see soldiers lining the woods now, with more arriving each minute. She had no hope of surviving back there, either. The only choice was to go on, out into the lake. Onward they went. Thirty yards grew to fifty. Then seventy-five. Then a hundred. As light faded, so did the individual forms of soldiers. A shred of hope returned to the companions.

  And then another stab of searing heat shot through her spine. She screamed in pain and surprise, for she had momentarily forgotten the real menace. The Daegmons had come. The other companions felt it too, though in a different way. Its grip of terror seized them immediately. Falien’s oar froze in the water as his face went white. Beth clasped the side of the boat as if she might throw herself over to escape. Regon screamed. Even Cathros looked afraid. They turned to the shoreline in time to see the massive winged creature flying toward them, low over the heads of the soldiers. Its terrible pinions flapped like hammers against the driving wind. The soldiers cowed and backed up. Some dropped their weapons and fled as the creature passed over them. Only Golach remained unnerved.

  Now Elynna realized just how vulnerable the companions were. There was no place to hide. No hope in running. No way to fight. And with a pit in her stomach, it crossed her mind that maybe this had been the Daegmons’ plan all along. The creatures had driven the companions to the lake and trapped them against to shore—trapped them, hoping they would take to the water where they would be defenseless against assault.

  17

  THIMEON’S CHOICES

  For just a minute Thimeon lifted his eyes off the road in front of him, and scanned the distant horizon. The clouds that had blanketed the sky since the previous evening had frayed, torn, and blown off to the south. The road, passing through a cleft in the hills, had turned from north toward the west or just a little south of west and the afternoon sun glared in his eyes, a bright yellow flower in
a field of blue. The snow-covered slopes of Mount Androllin now filled Thimeon’s view. The second highest mountain in all Gondisle, it was a familiar sight, a crow’s beak of black rock pecking at the sky, visible from Aeti on all but the most heavily overcast days. Illengond, which had stood in front of them much of the past two days, lay hidden behind the steep hill to his right.

  It had been three days since the battle at Gale Enebe, and two days since Lyn had reappeared. Two days since Lyn’s news—or possibly his lies—had resulted in Terrid staying behind with all his soldiers, leaving Thimeon’s company once again diminished. When they had set out northward from the ruins of Gale Ceathu, Thimeon had looked across the Raws toward Androllin’s familiar crow’s beak, visible in the distant northwest at the far end of the rugged Androllin range. It nearly eclipsed the much higher but more distant peak of Illengond. But they had traveled long and fast, following the road along the north branch of Cea River east of the Raws all the way to the Andani hills where they turned westward. The peak of Androllin was much closer now, and stood to their southwest, separated from Illengond by a wide and gentle plain. A plain very familiar to Thimeon. He was not far from his home.

  Still, though they had come far in those two days, it would take at least three more days to reach even the lowest slopes of Illengond—if indeed they chose to go that way. Travel would be slower in the roadless tracks on the north side of Aeti. And though the familiarity of the landscape gave him a sort of comfort, Thimeon had too many questions to be at peace. He did not know if Elynna had received his message through Cathwain. Would she be traveling toward Illengond? Would she stop Cane from using the stone? Or would Thimeon and Dhan have to turn their company westward and head into Undeani land in search of her company?

  And was Tienna still with Elynna? Would Thimeon see her again?

  Eager for news—of Terrid or Elynna or anything—and impatient traveling with the rest of the company, Thimeon now rode with Rhaan a mile or so in front of others, scouting the way for possible danger. His thoughts drifted once again to the old book, Songs for the All-Maker. Riding on his horse, or beside the glow of a torch in the early mornings, he had read and reread the songs, some so often he knew them by heart. In love is breath, All-Maker’s gift, and by love’s breath was life begun.

  But though some brought hope and comfort, others left him confused or sorrowful. None offered any specific wisdom for what he ought to do next. One in particular had plagued him all day since he had read it that morning for the third or fourth time.

  From the roots of All-Maker’s Mountain

  Water shall pour like blood,

  And the healing power of that fountain

  Will become a destroying flood.

  Them the wood-shaper and molder of stone

  Shall come together and shape as one.

  And what was lost shall be regained,

  As the tree with roots bears the full weight of pain.

  Many of the songs were hymns of praise. Others read like history, or ancient myth. This one seemed more like a prophecy. Its style was incongruous with the other songs, and almost jarring. How could healing and destruction come from the same water? Did the “molder of stone” and “wood-shaper” refer to one of the gifted like Gaelim? Or did they refer to the All-Maker himself? Or perhaps to something or someone else altogether? And what did it mean for a tree to bear pain?

  The song did reinforce Thimeon’s sense that they should be traveling toward Illengond. Yet the words were hundreds of years old. Maybe thousands. What if they had nothing to do with Thimeon? Indeed, what could they possible have to do with Thimeon and his quest. What if he really needed just to go west toward the Undeani highlands in search of Elynna?

  Rhaan’s voice cut into his thoughts. “We are nearing Aeti. We must decide soon, I think.”

  Yes, Thimeon thought. They must indeed decide. Did they risk entering Aeti in search of news and supplies? Or, if they chose not to, then they would have to make a different and more difficult decision. Would they head northwest toward Illengond? Or southwest across the Illengond River toward the Undeani Highlands?

  Thimeon’s heart longed to descend down to Aeti. To see the farm his father had built, and the hillside where his parents’ burial stones sat beneath his mother’s favorite tree. Aeti lay just a score of miles to their right, over a low range of rolling hills. These were hills and fields and views Thimeon had grown up with. He knew the lay of the land. The smaller road they were now following stayed in a sparsely populated farming valley a few miles south of the Aeti valley, and intersected the main trade road from Citadel a few miles southwest of the village. Going into Aeti would not be far out of their way. He could send a message to his sister Siarah and to their aunt and uncle, the parents of Theo.

  He would also be bringing danger upon his own people. And great risk to himself and his company. Even sending a message to Siarah might put her in danger.

  “We will make our choice tonight,” Thimeon replied. “I will speak once more with the prince.”

  And I will hope for some news to make my choices clearer, he thought, but he kept that thought to himself.

  Thimeon and Rhaan followed the road down a long hill, and started up the next slope. An inch of snow had fallen or blown over the road since any travelers had passed by, giving Thimeon some confidence that they had the road to themselves. Even the few farms that dotted the distant hills were strangely quiet. But coming over another low hill, Rhaan suddenly reined in his horse. “Hold,” he commanded, in a quiet by clear voice.

  Thimeon obeyed at once, and lifted his head to scan the way ahead. He didn’t see anything. “What is it?”

  “Movement,” Rhaan replied. “Ahead up the next slope where the road disappears into the trees.”

  “Are you sure?” Thimeon asked. He still saw nothing.

  “Yes. I don’t know what it is, but it’s better to be safe. You head back and warn the others. I’ll wait here and watch. If there is danger, I’ll come back and warn you.”

  Thimeon sighed. They didn’t need any delays. But neither could they take foolish risks. “We’ll stop at the previous hill and look ahead for you. If you wave, we’ll know it’s okay for us to come.”

  Thimeon turned and was about to put his heels to his horse’s flanks when Rhaan called again. “Wait. It’s only a pair of farm wagons.”

  Thimeon turned once more and joined the Scout-major for a closer look. Two wagons, each pulled by a pair of horses, had just emerged from the woods. Only one person sat in each. “If my eyes don’t deceive me, they’re loaded with firewood,” Thimeon said, after studying them a moment. He paused. “Farmers from somewhere nearby, I’ll wager. They might be able to help us. Shall we take the risk?”

  Rhaan nodded and they urged their mounts forward at a quick trot. The road dipped down again, and for a moment the wagons were out of sight. By the time they crested the hill, the wagons had disappeared. The wheel tracks led off the road into the woods to the east. “Strange place to leave the road,” Rhaan commented. “I didn’t see a farm around here.”

  “They may be as interested in avoiding a meeting as we are,” Thimeon replied. “Let me follow them alone. It won’t take long. And when they see I’m Andani, they might be more friendly. It might even be somebody I know, or somebody who knew my parents. You should warn the others, in case something goes amiss.”

  Rhaan consented and Thimeon rode off into the trees, following the tracks. It didn’t take him long to find the wagons. They were heavily loaded with wood, and had managed to go only a hundred yards before he caught up with them. He called to the drivers as he rode up beside them. They were dressed in heavy blue and red woven cloaks of sheep’s wool, with heavy mittens and knit hats pulled low over their ears. They halted their team of horses and turned frightened faces toward him. One was an older man with a fat nose, deep set eyes, and a long gray beard sticking out
in front of his cloak. The other was much younger, with a similar nose and matching eyes, but only a thin black beard. It could have been a father and son, Thimeon thought. The older one gripped a makeshift club on the seat beside him. The younger one had a bow near at hand. Thimeon glanced from one to the other. Keeping his hands in sight on the saddle in front of him, he greeted them again, letting his voice slip into his comfortable Andani accent. “I’m Thimeon, son of Thiam, from Aeti.”

  The drivers looked him over carefully, but said nothing. “My sister and I have a farm on the far side of town,” Thimeon went on. “Our parents Thiam and Jannah built it, though we lost them last year.” There was no sign of recognition on their faces. “Do you have a farm nearby? Do you sell wood in Aeti?”

  “We’ll sell wood to any as wants it,” the older one said. “You wants to buy some, we can arrange that. But we’d rather stay away from the town nows as there’s more soldiers there.”

  “Soldiers?” Thimeon asked. “I’ve been away three months. When did they come?”

  “Must have been during the blue moon back the start of the seventh month,” the younger one replied. “But they’re thick as undergrowth now.”

  Thimeon did a quick calculation. If he had counted right, five days remained until the next blue moon and the start of the ninth month. That put the arrival of the solders some seventy-five days ago, long before the prince’s escape or even his imprisonment. So the soldiers had another purpose there beyond just looking for the escaped prisoners. But whatever their purpose, going into Aeti sounded like a much worse idea now. Seeking more information, Thimeon changed the topic. “Been much traffic on the road?”

  At this, their faces grew dark. “Depends what you mean,” the old one said. “There’s folks on the road, but not many travelers.”