Illengond Read online

  “I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s a feeling that tingles in my health-sense, but it isn’t exactly health. It’s something greater than health, if that makes sense. Something that I don’t have the authority to judge.”

  “Has Cathwain spoken again with either of you?” Theo asked of Elynna and Tienna. They both shook their heads. “So we still do not know where to meet him?”

  “We’ll meet him where the wild goose flies, as my people say,” said Aram in a sarcastic tone.

  “You won’t let up, will you?” Bandor shot back. “Do you want to lead us instead?”

  “How can anybody lead us until we decide if we are running away from something or running toward something.”

  “Why can’t it be both?” asked Theo in a quieter voice.

  “Don’t try to disguise Bandor’s confusion with nonsense talk,” Aram shot back. “Without Cane, we’re running helpless and hopeless. We were unsure if we could even defeat one Daegmon with him. How can we defeat three without him?”

  “Cane was not our only strength,” replied Tienna. Her voice was also quiet, but it held a threatening edge.

  Bandor, however, shook his head. “Alas I fear that Aram is right. Since Cane’s death, we’ve been running like rabbits. We have not only lost Cane. We have also lost that stone and all its power. I saw it shatter when Cane was killed. Even if we find Thimeon, is there any hope? I fear I have not been leading us well.”

  “If there is fault in the leadership, then I am equally to blame,” Braga said.

  “No,” Cathros replied. “There is no blame. I miss my brother. Not only because he is my brother and I loved him, but because of his power that has been lost to us. His gift gave us hope. But even without him, we can still choose hope.”

  “How do you choose hope, I wonder, when nothing you see offers it?” Noab asked.

  “Thimeon promised us hope,” Tienna said. “He brings us a new weapon—”

  “A weapon meant for Cane to wield,” Aram interrupted. “Cane is dead.”

  “And something about this Mountain gives me hope as well,” Tienna went on as though she didn’t hear him. “Thimeon would have chosen hope. He would have trusted the All-Maker. I, too, will choose hope.”

  “A fool’s optimism,” Aram retorted. “For a time longer I will follow you, but it is with little or no hope. And what hope have the others? Cathros is not the only one who lost kin in that fight. Do not forget Hrevia and Keet who also still grieve for lost brothers. And now Braga has lost his nephew, and needlessly it seems. Do they have hope to see their kin again?”

  Bandor felt the sting of Aram’s words. What could he say in his own defense? He looked down. Others voices fell silent as well. Bandor heard once again the sound of the river. Not the loud thunder of the mighty falls that seemed to shake the earth, but the steady low melodic rush and gurgle of a small river or large tumbling stream constantly rolling rocks, shifting sand, swirling and rolling over boulders.

  Then, mixed with the song of the river, a series of whirs and thuds. The noise was a familiar one, though muffled by the rapids Bandor did not identify it at once—not until a blur of movement flashed by the corner of his vision and he saw the feathered shaft of an arrow sticking out of the ground by his feet. Even then it took him a second longer to connect the sound with the sight, and to make another more important connection. In that second three more arrows appeared in the ground around his feet. One of the Undeani stood a few yards away with an armload of deadwood ready for a fire. A fifth arrow protruded from a log in his arms.

  A warning shout rose to Bandor’s throat, but it never came out. He felt a jarring searing blow to his left shoulder. It knocked him backward. His warning cry came out as a cry of pain. He was lying on his back on the ground with an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

  Then Braga yelled something in his own tongue, while Theo shouted, “We’re attacked.”

  25

  ILLENGOND

  The last of Jhaban’s companions soon passed around the curve of the mountain out of sight of their pursuers, but he had little doubt that they had been spotted. Not that it mattered. Jhaban knew they had left an unmistakable trail in the snow behind them.

  There was no longer any discussion of walking to preserve their horses’ strength. Ahead the leaders pushed onward as fast as they could break the trail. “How long can we keep ahead of them?” Armas called out after several minutes.

  “A day,” Rhaan shouted back. “If we’re lucky. They are still a long way back, but they can move more quickly than we.”

  “Then let us turn and fight,” suggested Banthros. “I’m tired of running. If I can bring El-Phern down, I’ll consider my death well-bought.”

  “No,” Thimeon yelled back. “This isn’t the battle, and they aren’t the enemy.”

  El-Phern doesn’t know that, Jhaban thought. But he kept that thought to himself.

  Ahead, Thimeon set a pace that seemed to be squeezing every last drop of energy he could from his horse. The horses responded with great resolve, as though they understood the importance of the sacrifice. But Jhaban knew they couldn’t keep it up. Already some were flagging. They soon reached a sheltered hollow where the snow was only a few inches deep. With heels to their flanks, the horses mustered a short gallop that lasted about half a minute. Then they slowed to a walk, and nothing the riders did could get anything more from them. Behind him, Jhaban could hear Corandra and Jhonna weeping.

  Their path continued, winding along the side of the mountain, gradually turning northwestward. They sun was nearly down when they reached a steeper section of slope. A narrow goat path ran along the bottom of a rocky ledge about nine feet in height. Thimeon led the way, and Jhaban followed the line. The drop to his left was steep. A fall would not end well. On his right, he could reach out his hand and touch the wall.

  A hundred yards along the ledge the line of horses stopped. Thimeon turned excitedly and looked at Dhan who was now just four places in front of Jhaban in the line. “I think we can do it.”

  “What?” asked the prince who was right behind him.

  “Your plan. Leave the horses and go on foot. And maybe leave a mystery. Be ready to stop,” Thimeon replied. “Pass the word back.”

  Dhan relayed the cryptic command. Thimeon continued on, but now his attention was on the cliff to his right. He was looking up over his head. He went only a hundred more feet before he reined his horse to another halt. As Jhaban watched, Thimeon carefully rose to his feet on this saddle, holding one hand on the ledge for balance and holding his pack in his other. The horse took a step, and for a moment it looked like Thimeon might tumble down the steep slope to his left. He regained his balance, and deftly swung his pack over his shoulder. His shoulders were level with the top of the ledge. He took a small leap, reaching up with both hands as he did.

  For a few seconds, Thimeon’s lower body hung poised in the air. Then he pulled himself up and disappeared over the top of the ledge, only to reappear an instant later standing atop the ledge. “We won’t find a better spot,” he called down. “We must move quickly. Everybody grab all your gear. You’ll need to hand it up, or carry it. The farther we can make the horses go the better.”

  He disappeared again, and then reappeared holding a taut rope with one hand. He dropped another length of the rope down the ledge where it hung at the level of their saddles.

  Jhaban looked back down the line of riders behind him. The officers would be fine, he thought. He wasn’t sure if the others would be able to make it. Many would have a hard time even standing on their horses. But maybe with the help of the rope? They were running out of other choices.

  Ahead, the prince was already putting the plan into motion. He had drawn his sword and inched his horse forward. Reaching out with the flat of his blade, he gave a sharp slap on the rump of Thimeon’s horse, sending it lurching down the trail ahead. R
elieved of its burden, it managed a good run until it disappeared around a ledge. Then Dhan climbed up in his horse holding onto the rope for balance. He handed his pack up to Thimeon, then grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled himself up.

  One at a time the rest of the line followed. Each rider slapped the horse in front to urge it onward, and then clambered up. Jhaban came sixth after Armas, Rhaan and Banthros. Siyen had no trouble getting up the rope. Neither did Corandra. Jhonna and Cathwain both struggled. Jhonna had to just hold on to the rope and let Thimeon haul her up. She banged her knees hard on the ledge and cried out in pain.

  Kayam, the old soldier, came last. He had no trouble getting up the rope. He gave his horse a kick as he started up. But his horse only bolted a dozen yards and then the animal stopped. Two more horses were also stopped in the trail, still within sight.

  “Curse the animal,” Rhaan said. “This won’t do. The signs of our climb will be easy enough to see once anybody starts looking for them. We’ve got to hope they ride past here quickly.” He gave a shout, but the animal still didn’t move. He reached behind him and grabbed his bow. In an instant he had it strung with an arrow in his hand.

  Jhonna stared at him in horror. “You’re not going to…?” she started, in a voice low and trembling. She turned away and couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Jhaban looked at Jhonna and his heart filled with sadness. She was fatigued. Dismayed. Lost. On the verge of despair. So young. And still one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. “They may have a better chance of surviving now than before,” Jhaban said, trying to comfort her. “We were their worst burdens.” But he wasn’t sure he believed his own words. What would the horses do out here now? Their chances with or without their riders were equally slim.

  “But we can’t kill it,” she protested.

  Rhaan, however, had other plans. While Jhaban and Jhonna and the others watched, he broke the point off his arrow, and in its place hastily wrapped a strip of leather in a ball. He nocked the newly padded arrow, drew his bow halfway, and let it fly. It caught his horse square in the rump. The beast went careening down the trail chasing the others in front of it until all were out of sight.

  “Not half as far as we need them to go,” Rhaan grumbled, as he put his bow away.

  They turned. Thimeon was already ascending the slope on foot. They had no time to waste. Even if the ruse worked, eventually El-Phern was bound to discover it. Then he had only to backtrack until he’d rediscovered their tracks. Jhaban knew this. How much time they bought depended on how carefully their pursuers were studying the tracks and how far the horses ran. The only good news was that their pursuers would not be able to bring their horses up the cliff. They would also have to abandon them and follow on foot.

  With fast fading hopes, Jhaban trudged up the snowy slope near the end of the long line of his companions. The way was steep and tiring, but not treacherous. Up ahead, Thimeon, Armas, and Kachtin took turns breaking the trail. Far to the west the sun made a brief but fiery appearance in the narrow strip between the cloud cover and the horizon. Then it was gone.

  They ascended for another thirty minutes in the fading twilight. Then Thimeon turned sharply to the left. Without warning, he dropped from sight. One by one the others in front also disappeared. Finally, Jhaban drew close enough to see that they were disappearing into a steep-sided gully. It was six or seven feet wide, and on the downhill side about five feet deep, but uphill a ledge rose at least a dozen feet above them and overhung the gully. It ran thirty or so yards before disappearing into the darkness. Jhaban was the last one down into it. Judging by the movement of the dim shadowy forms, the others were clearing the bottom of snow, packing it down or kicking it off to one side.

  “This will provide us some shelter for the night,” spoke the shadow with Thimeon’s voice. It stood next to two other dim figures whom Jhaban guessed to be Rhaan and the prince. “What hope do we have?”

  “Better than continuing in these conditions in the black of night,” answered the prince’s voice. “And we certainly don’t want to light any torches and give way our position. But real hope? We must sleep lightly and wake ready to fight.”

  “The prince is right, I think,” Rhaan said. “El-Phern won’t stop now that they have spotted us. And they can’t have not seen us back there. Yet that might work to our advantage. They will continue riding after the sunset has set, and there will be no moon tonight. In the dark it will be easy for them to ride past where we climbed the ledge without seeing any signs. They won’t stop until they catch up with our horses. And then it will take some time to turn the whole company around and they’ll have to move slowly in the dark to find where we left.”

  “Let us risk three hours of rest, then,” Thimeon said. “We need the rest if we are to continue. If the moon sheds any light through this haze—if there is enough for our enemy to follow us, then we must let it be enough for us to travel as well. If it remains this black, then we might risk a slightly longer rest.”

  “Okay,” Dhan said. “But remember that our enemy can use torches. We cannot.”

  “True,” Thimeon said. “But if they do, we will see them sooner. We must set a good watch and sleep while we can.”

  The night proved dark indeed, but there was little wind even on the slopes and down in the gully the air was completely still. They lit no fire. Jhaban, though he would have enjoyed the heat, was glad enough just to stop and rest. Already the others were pulling blankets from packs and finding places to rest. Rhaan squeezed past Jhaban and disappeared back up the gully to act as watch. Thimeon, despite his admonition to rest, disappeared into the darkness in the other direction.

  Jhaban sank to his feet. The rock at his back was dry, and sloped just enough that he could rest against it. He closed his eyes and was almost asleep when he heard Thimeon’s voice. He might have been speaking to the prince, but his words carried along the gully. “We’re right by the mouth of a cave. If we follow this upward for just a minute, we’ll have dry shelter well out of the wind. It’s a deep cave, too.”

  With some reluctance, the companions who had already collapsed in fatigue rose again and gathered their belongings and followed Thimeon. The short walk proved worth the effort, however. Though they could not see, they felt the dryer warmer air almost at once as they passed through a low arch into a deeper darkness. “It goes way back,” Thimeon said. “Deep enough to get lost. Let’s all stay near the mouth.”

  The suggestion was unnecessary. Jhaban was too tired to move. Finding another rock to lean against, he pulled out his blanket, and rolled onto his side beneath it. Heavy breathing filled the cave as his companions fell off to sleep one by one.

  Jhaban woke in pitch black. He looked around, but couldn’t even see the outline of the mouth of the cave or any hint of a darkness that was slightly less black. He had no memory of drifting to sleep. He had fallen fast and hard. Now he struggled to wake up. Dhan and Thimeon spoke a short distance away in voices barely above whispers.

  “Rhaan is back,” Dhan said. “Kachtin has taken his place. Rhaan says he had a good view of the valley, though how he can tell in this darkness I don’t know.”

  “What did he see?” Thimeon asked.

  “Nothing. No sign of torches. I think it is too dark for our enemy to follow us. That is good.”

  “And too dark for us too travel, then?” Thimeon asked. “That is not so good.”

  “For all my eagerness to put distance between us and our pursuers, I think if we tried to climb right now—well we would have to fumble along so slowly we would be better off getting more rest. Then perhaps we can move more quickly at first light.”

  “If they catch us, all is lost.”

  “I know,” Dhan replied. “If we had any way to move safely I would not hesitate.”

  “So be it,” Thimeon replied. “Then let the All-Maker bless us with sleep. But we must leave at the
first hint of light, whether from clouds clearing or the rising of the sun.”

  The voices fell silent. Jhaban heard a little more shuffling of bodies, and then all was quiet save for the slight sough of wind across the mouth of the cave.

  When Jhaban woke next a faint gray light showed the outline of the cave mouth. After a minute, he realized he could also see the faint outlines of bodies lying around him. The first hint of light, Thimeon had said. He rose to his feet, strapped on his sword, and stumbled around the cave until he found Thimeon sprawled out next to the prince. Jhonna was leaning against Thimeon’s arm and had draped an arm across him. Jhaban leaned over and shook the prince first, and then Thimeon. “First hint of light,” he whispered to the prince. “I haven’t looked outside the cave. I don’t know if this is the promise of dawn, or just some moonlight peering through the haze. But outside it may be enough for us to move. If it is, it’s enough for our enemies also.”

  The prince nodded and rolled to his feet. Thimeon gently rolled Jhonna to the side, and stood also. Before the three of them made it to the mouth of the cave, Banthros appeared, returning from his shift. “Clouds are parting to the west,” he said. “It will be light enough to travel by the time all are ready.”

  “We will wake the others and depart as soon as we can,” the prince replied. “Keep watch until then and be ready.”

  Jhaban then helped Thimeon and the prince wake the others. It was a grim waking and a grim morning. Their food was almost gone. They had only a few strips of venison left among them, and that was the last of their supplies.. Each of them received only a small bite. Jhaban saw that Thimeon didn’t take any.

  Jhaban knew also that their situation hadn’t improved during the night. Nobody had to say this. They all knew. All they could hope for was that their pursuers had gained no more ground on them. Thimeon had said at the start of the journey that his only task was to deliver the sword to the one who had a special power to us it in the battle against the Daegmon. Anybody who went with him took on that same task. It would be a dangerous task, he had said. Jhaban now guessed that Thimeon had not expected to come through the war alive. Were the others with him willing to make that same sacrifice? Perhaps the officers knew what was being asked of them, and had weighed such a cost. But what of Jhonna and Corandra? Or Cathwain? They were not soldiers.