Illengond Page 16

  “What he means is there been robbers,” The younger one said. “Thought maybe you was one of them.”

  “There be more than one band,” the older one went on. “And they’s not just on this road. They’ll take anything. My brother, he was robbed o’ all his axes. Every one of ’em. Then left bleeding by the side of the road. If I hadn’t a come by lookin’ for him, he’d have froze to death.”

  “No help from the soldiers?” Thimeon asked. “From the outpost at Aeti or down at Hilt?

  “Help from Citadel?” the young one grumbled. “The soldiers, they’s worse than the robbers, demanding our supplies and not paying for ’em. Food. Wood. Livestock. Anything.”

  Thimeon frowned. “Have you seen soldiers on this road recently? I’d rather not meet them myself just now, if you understand me.”

  Both wagon drivers nodded their understanding and appeared to relax further. “A large company passed by some five, six days ago, headed south into Ceadani land,” the young one said. “Haven’t seen none since then.”

  Thimeon thanked them, then asked if he might buy a few bags of oats or grain for his horse. “For a fair price,” he added. “Gold coins. I’ll pay in advance.”

  They shook their heads and apologized. Their supplies were already low because of the early onset of winter and the loss of late fall grazing. The demands of the soldiers had made things worse.

  Thimeon was disappointed, but not surprised. He nodded his understanding and wished them well, then departed. When he got back to the road, the rest of the company had caught up and were waiting for him alongside Rhaan.

  “Rhaan told me about the wagons,” Prince Dhan. “What did you find?”

  “Just farmers hauling wood,” Thimeon replied. “Hauling wood and trying to avoid the rash of soldiers that have recently been in and around Aeti. Soldiers and robbers both.”

  Thimeon waited for his companions to take in that knowledge, and then quickly recounted his conversation with the loggers. “They were visibly scared,” he concluded.

  “Of you?”

  “Of everything, I think. Robbers. Soldiers. The coming winter. It will be a hard one for them.” He met the prince’s eyes. “Maybe the Daegmon, too. It’s been less than a year since the last attacks. Mostly, though, I think they are afraid of Citadel. Afraid and angry. A company of soldiers moved south a few days ago—searching for us, I gather. It may be the company following us now. They are not treating the locals well. The Andani countryside is in hiding.”

  And Lyn spoke the truth, Thimeon wanted to add. But Lyn sat astride his horse at the outer edge of the circle, sullenly looking on. So Thimeon kept that thought to himself, guessing that the prince would come to the same conclusion without being told.

  Dhan looked concerned. “Terrid will have his hands full. Let us hope for his sake—and for ours—that he succeeds.”

  “But what do we do now?” Rhaan asked. The expressions on the faces of the other officers suggested they had the same question.

  “I don’t think we dare go into Aeti now,” Dhan answered.

  Thimeon shook his head and sighed. He let go his last hope of getting a message to his sister. The faces of Jhonna and Corandra fell also. They had been looking forward to a night under a roof, he knew. And a day without travel.

  “Nor do I think it is safe to travel down the trade road past Swage and Hilt to reach the Undeani Highlands,” Dhan went on.

  Thimeon did not respond. He knew the prince was right, but he was not yet ready to say aloud what he was already sure of, that they could not enter Aeti.

  18

  STORM

  A few minutes later, the band started moving again. Thimeon no longer rode in front with Rhaan. He kept near the middle of the pack and made an effort to turn his thoughts to those around him. He had made the mistake a few days earlier of being so focused on their goal that he did not consider his followers. He did not want to do that again.

  Ahead of him, the officers were conversing among themselves in low voices. Their spirits seemed good. Whatever danger and uncertainty they faced, they seemed to prefer it to being in the dungeons. The three young women and Gaelim rode behind Thimeon. Though none of them had complained since leaving Gale Enebe, all of them looked tired. Thimeon was most worried about Jhonna, but he didn’t know what he might do for her. Behind her, Kayam and Siyen rode side by side, as they had since almost the start of the voyage. He didn’t understand what strange bond the two of them had, but he wasn’t going to question it. A change had come over Siyen. She would not abandon the company again, he thought.

  Lyn rode by himself at the tail of the company. His sullen expression did little to engender confidence, but Thimeon had evidence now that Lyn had spoken the truth at least about the soldiers. He wanted to understand him. Maybe understanding Lyn was the key to understanding his sister Elynna. Understanding her and helping her. He knew, in some way, they still depended on Elynna. But eventually Thimeon’s thoughts fell back to the book. And to the sword. And to his memory of Tienna.

  And so the afternoon wore on. The sky grew overcast again as clouds blew down from the north. As they drew closer to Aeti they saw more signs of habitations on distant hillsides or off in the valley to their left. But though they kept a close watch, they saw no signs of soldiers or of any inhabitants of the land.

  Thimeon spurred his mount forward to ride alongside the prince. “He spoke the truth,” he said in a low voice. He was surprised to hear himself speak. He hadn’t ridden up beside Dhan to say that.

  The prince turned and looked at Thimeon, with a confused expression.

  “Lyn,” Thimeon explained. “About the soldiers.”

  The prince nodded. “He did. But that doesn’t mean I trust him. My question is whether he brought warning of the soldiers in order to help us? Or was it simply to save his own fearful hide? Or does he have yet some other plot that will work evil?”

  As Thimeon sat astride his horse pondering how to respond—wondering which explanation he believed—Banthros and Kachtin came back from their scouting position to announce they had reached the junction with the Citadel trade road. “It is just over the next hill,” Kachtin said. “One way leads off to the right, northeastward, into Aeti. The other heads south toward Citadel.”

  Kachtin was speaking for the benefit of the others in the company. Thimeon knew this well already. He could picture the meeting of roads. He had probably ridden or walked past it a hundred times or more.

  “It is more heavily trafficked beyond this point,” Banthros added, looking first at Dhan and then to Thimeon. “It is likely to be patrolled, or at least scouted. And scouts might well be in disguise. One looking like a farmer might well be one of Golach’s scouts.” He looked back at Dhan. “I’m sorry prince. You know all this. I just thought—”

  Dhan put up his hand. “It is good to be reminded. Here will be our greatest risk, whether we go to Aeti or not.”

  Thimeon knew that Dhan, and Banthros and Kachtin were right. As much as they hoped for some new information—some word or rumor that might have come from Elynna—and as much as he longed to spend a night in his own bed, they could not risk entering Aeti. Nonetheless, an image of his sister Siarah rose once again unbidden to his thoughts. Little ‘Rah he called her. He pictured her light brown eyes, high cheeks, and small nose, and her long brown curly hair that fell in wild waves over her shoulders and sometimes across her face. He thought of her scolding tongue that reminded Thimeon of their mother. Since their parents had died, they had been more dependent on each other. She had not been happy about Thimeon’s departure for Citadel so many weeks ago—about being left behind and sent to their uncle’s farm.

  And he thought again of his parents’ graves—one of which held no body, because the Daegmon had snatched it away.

  Thimeon tried to speak, to confirm aloud what he had already decided, that they would not be go
ing to Aeti. The others were looking at him. But when he opened his mouth, his throat tightened and no words came out. He fought back tears and swallowed the lump in his throat. “We will not follow the road in either direction,” he said, hoping his voice did not sound to the others as shaky as it felt. “We will not risk Aeti, or the trade road. I hope Elynna heard Cathwain speaking to her, but whether she did or not I think we must continue north into the wilderness—even if that means we must later turn west to the Undeani lands by a much slower route.”

  The prince nodded. “Though I would have followed you into Aeti, I think that is the wise choice.”

  “Even so,” Rhaan said, “we must cross the road. Do we do so now or wait until dark?”

  Thimeon sighed. He suddenly felt too exhausted to make another decision. “Let the others decide.”

  Several seconds of silence followed his announcement. The officers appeared surprised at Thimeon’s reply. They looked at the prince, but he said nothing. Finally, Armas spoke. “I say we cross now. We don’t know what is ahead of us, but we have good reason to believe that pursuit follows behind. Terrid can’t hold them off forever. Don’t waste the daylight. Over this easy terrain we could cover five miles at least before dark. Let us trust our scouts to find a way across without being spotted.”

  “The risk is too great,” Rhaan replied. “With these clouds it will be dark tonight. The moon will not shine through. We can rest for a time.”

  “What if we continue further south through the woods along this side of the road,” Kachtin asked, “and cross north further from Aeti and the crossroads?”

  “That is my vote,” Banthros said. “Better a short delay than a long one.”

  “I don’t know if my vote counts,” Kayam said. “But I’m with Rhaan.”

  “Two of us can scout this road easily enough,” Jhaban said. “In this snow, if there are soldiers nearby we’ll see the signs. Whether we cross here or further down the road, let’s do it before dark.”

  Little though he wanted to be responsible, Thimeon was about to agree when a peel of lightning lit the sky several miles away to the north. Within a few seconds another flash touched a distant hillside. A gust of wind stirred the air around them with the threat of violence.

  “That was sudden,” Siyen remarked. “Where did that come from?”

  Thimeon looked to the north. A low mass of darker clouds was building around the base of Illengond. So this decision, also, seemed to have been made for him. “From nowhere,” he replied under his breath. He looked into the woods around him, and then spoke more loudly. “My people have a name for these storms. They are called the Hillenhiram. Those of Undeani blood who live in Swage and Hilt call them Northers. Though they have been known to come during any season, they are most common at this time of year, at the onset of winter. They form around the base of Mount Illengond. Four times out of five they move westward from there, but sometimes they turn south. It’s best not to be caught in the open when they come. We’d better find shelter and camp here.” He didn’t wait for more argument. He turned to Rhaan. “Come with me. Let us look for a place that will protect us from blowing snow.” As he rode off into the trees, he heard Corandra and Jhonna breath a joint sigh of relief.

  It took Thimeon and Rhaan only a few minutes to find a thick stand of fir trees against a south facing bluff. He led his companions two hundred yards off the road to the sheltered hollow where the trees met the bluff. While others set up camp, he went a hundred yards around the south side of the bluff where the snow cover was thinner. He and Jhaban scraped off some snow to expose a patch of clover and winter grasses for the horses. They hobbled the animals on long tethers where they could huddle in the woods if the storm came, and still reach the cleared ground to graze. It was scant food for the horses, Thimeon knew, considering that they were already suffering from many days of poor fare and hard work, but there was little else to be done. The companions ate only slightly better themselves. Unwilling to risk a fire, they dined on scraps of cold meat left over from the evening before.

  There was little conversation that evening. The soldiers, as was their discipline, unpacked their bedrolls and fell asleep almost immediately after the meal. Thimeon stayed awake a while longer. The wind was blowing briskly from the north, and though the air felt almost calm in the shelter of the hollow, he could hear the creaking of trees overhead. A small shadow approached through the blackness of the night. A shoulder brushed against his and he heard the slight rustle of crusty snow or dry leaves as a body sat next to him.

  Words came out of the darkness, hesitant and uncertain. “I—I don’t know where we are.” Thimeon recognized Jhonna’s beautiful, soft voice, bold at times but now so insecure.

  I don’t either, he wanted to answer, but he guessed her question was less metaphysical and more one of simple geography. Or, perhaps, it was just a voice looking for company and comfort. “Not far from my home,” he answered.

  “That’s near Aeti, isn’t it?” the voice asked. “I’ve heard you and others speak that name many times, but it means nothing to me. How far have we come from Gale Enebe? How far are we from Citadel? It feels like I’ve traveled to the end of the Gondisle.”

  Thimeon drew in a long breath. He could feel her body press just slightly closer. “Aeti is the largest of the Andani towns. It sits over the line of hills north and a little east. My home is on a hill about an hours’ walk northeast of Aeti.”

  “Who is there now?”

  Thimeon swallowed. “Nobody. It’s empty. My parents died and my sister has gone to be with our uncle a morning’s ride further east.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. After a pause, she added, “sometimes I’m afraid my parents are dead too. Do you think they’re still alive?”

  “I think so,” Thimeon answered, but he couldn’t give her any reasons. He was wondering the same thing about the companions he had left behind over two weeks earlier. Tienna. Elynna and Cane and Cathros. His cousin Theo and his Andani friend Bandor.

  “What if I never see them again?” Jhonna asked. “Did I do the right thing coming with you?”

  Thimeon couldn’t answer. He stared up at the dark night sky wondering what to say. For an instant the pale moon peeped through the haze off to the east and shone down on their little hollow. In the dim moonlight, Thimeon looked back at the young woman beside him. She was still looking at his face, as though seeking some sort of strength and comfort from him. Then, as quickly as the light had appeared, the wind drove thick black clouds back across the moon and her face disappeared in the deeper darkness. What had he allowed her to get into? He put his hand on her arm and gave it a gently squeeze hoping it would be enough. She reached up and took his hand in hers and did not let go.

  Eventually Jhonna fell asleep. Thimeon extricated his hand. He sat staring into the darkness. A light flickered in front of him and then the glow of a tiny red coal. The glow grew slightly, and Thimeon saw the faint outline of Armas face in the light of a pipe as he sucked air through the bowl and into his mouth. Thimeon leaned back against a tree and rested his hand on Jhonna’s head, watching the rhythmic glow of the pipe until it burned out.

  After that, Thimeon drifted in and out of sleep. At some point in the night, he awoke and saw the moon, and a few stars peeking through the trees almost straight overhead. The moon was directly overhead. The storm they had seen brewing must have blown westward. The stars overhead blinked out, and a thin veil gave the moon a halo. Another star appeared as the wind blew the cloud break further west. Though he could see no constellations around it, he recognized the star as Caradin, the West Star, and the twin of bright Caradon. That was its name in Westwash. Elynna had taught it to him. But Tienna said that it was the hilt-star of the sword of the great hunter Branwyn who strode the night sky with his hound Huan. So the Plainsfolk said. Thimeon fingered Tienna’s pendant that still hung about his neck, and thought again of the huntress.
He wondered if she, too, was looking at the stars that night.

  He looked over at Armas. The duke was still awake, eyes open, looking right back at Thimeon. The pipe was still in his mouth, though he was no longer smoking anything.

  “No storm after all,” the duke said softly. “And a lost evening of travel.” Then he set his pipe down, rolled over, and went to sleep.

  Finally, Thimeon was alone. His sleepiness was gone. He stared at the moon a while longer, his thoughts ranging far to the west. Questions he had kept at bay during the work of daylight now came rushing back over him. Did Elynna still lead the company? Had she heard Cathwain’s message? If so, would Cane be willing to give up the Henetos stone? And what would happen if he didn’t?

  None of the answers that presented themselves were comforting. The book, he now knew, held not just words—not just knowledge—but some power, not unlike what he had felt when he had possessed the stone. Or maybe the book didn’t hold power, but some power worked through it. But what of the sword? He fingered the blade at his side and wondered what kind of power it would give to Cane, and whether that would be enough to overcome their foes. What if Borodruin was wrong about which blade it was? Or if the unthinkable had happened—if Cane had been killed? Then the sword was just another piece of metal, and Thimeon’s whole quest was in vain. Worse, he was leading them all to their defeat.

  As these thoughts piled up on him, he could feel his hope waning. Maybe Elynna was right about him. Maybe he was destined to fail. Absently his fingers reached for the blue pendant around his neck. As his fingers closed on it, another memory sprang to his mind of the woman who had given it to him. He saw Tienna’s deep eyes, and her high proud cheeks. She would not fail, he thought. He fell into his first sound sleep in many days.

  19

  UUSTGOND

  Tienna hunched next to Elynna in the middle of the boat, a hundred yards from shore. A minute earlier she had been drenched with sweat from a wild race back to her companions. She had made a near-fatal mistake, and had it not been for the skill of the last Amanti and the help of the great tiger she would not have made it alive.