Poor child, he thought. Love is so difficult. There was little he could do to help her, other than to keep her secret, and thereby delay the painful embarrassment of being found out. He guessed the captain was unaware of his effect upon the lass, or the young man’s behavior would be different. Tom hoped Breanna could keep her mind on the challenge they faced. She would be sorely needed if they were to conquer the witch Yahmara and rescue the little girl.
Tom knew a great deal more about Breanna than he shared, for after dropping her with the Vales in Weir those many seasons ago, he’d found wise men who studied the black work of witches. They all told a similar story of a time of Spectral Chaos, a coming event of terrible hardships.
“The Spectre,” they said, “will use his power through the physical body of Yahmara the witch to destroy all things good the Creator has made. Innocent souls of the world will be at risk, including those not yet born. Still, there is hope, for a young warrior of flesh, bone, and soul will rise up and lead her people into battle. The ancient elves knew this, and we have since heard their words in our dreams.”
Tom believed Breanna could be the warrior, because he was alive, and it was only because of her. At times when she was unaware, he watched her young face and saw the otherworldliness of her concentration. The incident of their escape from the ice cave occurred because the frightened girl disappeared, and the warrior came forth to save them, melting their way out of death’s clutches. He had stood amazed, as a bright light of understanding came with the picture of her foot-deep heel prints on the banks of the Tribon, and he knew then she was not like the rest of her travel mates. Breanna carried within her the source of great power, but Tom knew she was as yet unaware of her true identity. He thought maybe Sean had an idea, but the boy was wise enough to keep it to himself.
Rand Winter had been captain of the Mede Truheart long enough to know the crew and which ones he could depend upon. His first mate was called Skimp, the name given to him by his wife, who said he was stingy with his money and his drink. Skimp was a one-eyed Heptaroon, a member of the twelve families who populated the Darth of Hepta, and fished the deep waters off the small portion of land in the Hepta Sea. Skimp had grown weary of fishing after a spear accidentally pierced his left eye. He wished to travel and see the rest of the world, but mostly he hankered to get away from his wife and their nine brats.
Without question, Rand trusted Skimp to care for the ship while it was in port, and to oversee the underbelly barnacle removal. What was needed for such a job was a strong worker who could swim like a big fish. Skimp fit both requirements. The rest of the crew had promised to be ready to leave in a fortnight when Rand returned.
He still couldn’t tell anyone why he’d agreed—no, not agreed, insisted upon making the trip across the Barren Lands, and then onward toward Parth, where his life might be cut short by harpies and other monsters.
His mam always said, “Boy, you’re too rash for your own good.” The words had stuck with him, and he’d learned from them. Still, there was something beyond bravery in a boy, a girl, and an old tinker who were determined to go against the worst witch in the world. Rand didn’t want to miss the fight.
While sitting at the campfire enjoying the last of his supper, the dim memory of their journey across the deserted land seemed a dream. The clearest recollection of the event was two undernourished oxen, a rocky cart road, and yellowed hooves barely touching the ground. The cart had sped away, stirring a gale of wind that blew red, yellow, and black hair strands behind them like sails unfurling in a freshening wind. Rand’s face still felt pinched and chafed.
The harder truth the young man didn’t want to face was his attraction to the girl. She touched him as no other had ever done, and it puzzled him, made him want to follow her, protect her if necessary. She was young in physical age, but older than him in spirit. Yes, the lie that had incensed him was told by Tom, but it was perpetuated by her, a must for her survival. He had behaved with less intelligence than the oxen pulling the cart. Of course, it was necessary for a female traveling across the kingdoms to have a story that helped to keep her safe. The ridiculous assumption Rand had made was that he above all other souls should have been told the truth. He, a stranger captaining a ship to who knew where, should have been Breanna’s confidant! Recalling the memory of his chastening words made him red-faced and ashamed.
A little later, he was ready to apologize, and turned to her, but his words were cut short. She spoke close to his ear, warning him and the others.
“Shh. Something is coming, and it’s very big. We need to hide. Quick, put out the fire and pull the oxen and cart beside that dune. Hurry!”
Not a moment too soon, the campsite was cleared and the fire dissipated by water from the barrel. The four of them stood watch behind the low sand hill with bows, arrows, and knives readied for whatever had tracked them across the Barren Lands. Breanna could feel her headache coming on, a sure sign some memory might soon be needed.
Across the flat land came the pounding feet of three giant Kruks. Each carried a club in hand as they chased a herd of antelope through the open fields. The four souls in the wagon watched as each Kruk scooped up an armful of horned prey. Very quietly, Breanna and her companions lay low and silently prayed the oxen would not choose that time to bellow. Breanna crawled to them and whispered a warning.
The Kruks height was that of three oxen standing one atop the other, the breadth of them half that. Small at the top and large-bottomed, the Kruks might have been comical except for their penchant for consuming huge quantities of raw flesh. They were an old race that for eons had lived in the wilds of seaside land, and fed off fish and sea mammals. Kruks were excellent swimmers whose big bottoms floated high in salt water. This allowed them to hunt and eat simultaneously. They were often taken as harmless, but their flabby faces and drooping lips belied the ravenous hunger within their huge stomachs. Both the captain and Tom had heard of the creatures, but neither had ever seen one. Breanna, of course, had never heard anyone speak the word, either in her real home or with the Vales. She had recently begun to realize the extent of her ignorance of the world.
The King of Ice Mountain was near the same size as a fully grown Kruk, although they hardly resembled each other in other ways. Kruks might be a bit larger, Tom thought. He had heard their very sensitive noses were able to smell prey from half a league away. The four travelers thought their good fortune had come to an end when one Kruk sat down near the dung campfire and sniffed mightily at the wet coals, beginning an investigation that bode the travelers no good at all.
Breanna and the rest knew they couldn’t outrun the huge creatures. Plus, after a while the oxen were sure to shuffle and move, giving away their position. It seemed a likely time to call on the White for coverage, allowing them all time to scurry away while the Kruks ate their supper.
Willow, she began, I need the White—we’re in desperate circumstances! Please help, dear friend.
Closing her eyes after she spoke, Breanna inhaled deeply—once, twice, three times—then held each gulp of air, as she’d been instructed. The ephemeral white cover dropped as gently as fog, hiding them all. On their own, the oxen headed northeast, pulling the cart away from the monsters gorging themselves on chunks of freshly killed antelope. With relief, Rand, Tom, and Sean discovered that while they slept, they had been removed from the smell and sight of the antelope chasers. Breanna thanked Willow, and asked to have the White removed, although her own ability had grown so strong that she alone could have called or discarded the magic covering. Expelling the air from her lungs with great gasps brought the intense pain behind her eyes, from ear to ear. Quickly, she wrapped a tight band around her head and fell into a deep sleep.
They were a far distance away from the campsite when Tom called a halt to Bess and Barley’s forward movement.
“What happened?” he asked. “Thought we be Kruk meat for sure. Now look at us.”
They were all weary and needed further rest. The
oxen were tired as well, even though most of their travel had been covered by elven magic. Tom found a cloistered spot, out of the sight of creatures near the sea, and at once, the four of them lying in the close quarters of the cart fell asleep.
Breanna awoke soon afterward. She lay in the back of the cart, her mind racing. Elida’s safety was at the top of her thoughts. The night air was dry, but the heavens were filled with jagged blue lightning, as though the sky had been cut into servings with a dull knife.
“Not sky-made, but witch-made lightning,” her mam would have said.
Breanna was fearful at the thought of what they might have to face. As she lay restlessly, her senses were overwhelmed by the light patterns across the darkness. The stars and grandfather’s lamp had all disappeared. She heard light rustling, and knew it was Sean crawling across the cart floor. He took her hand, his fear written across his young face.
“Are we going to make it, Bree?” he asked. “How can we win against them who’re strong enough to make lightning? What about my sister?”
She clasped his hands within both hers, understanding his terror.
“Sean, don’t forget: the witch can’t win when we hold faith in our hearts. Be strong and think of your mam and poppa, what they would tell you.”
“I do,” he said. “I think of them all the time, and I remember being with Poppa, fishing and hunting. I learned my life from him. Do you think someday it won’t hurt anymore?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I think about my own kin, and miss them the same, just as if it was yesterday when I was taken from my home. This life has a cruel side, doesn’t it?”
“Aye, Bree, it does, but I don’t want to die either. I don’t want any of us to die,” he said with a weary heart.
Breanna’s headache pushed her toward sleep, leaving the boy alone with his fears. He lay down beside her and dozed, his feelings for her like those for Elida. She was his sister.
23.
Breanna awoke after an hour and took the first watch. Her headache had moved to the back of her neck, making it bearable. She sat near the wagon on a rock and backed up against a sand hill, with her night vision trained toward the coastline caves. The lightning had passed, leaving a clear, star-filled sky. She reached for the door in her mind and felt it slam shut, barring her from Elida. A sharp sense of her mother came afterward, as though it had been Mathena who closed the portal.
She heard a noise and readied her bow and arrows, but it was the captain. He sat down beside her with a thin blanket in his hand, and wrapped the cover around her arms against the cool air. The Qadra Sea shone off in the distance, and in the grandfather’s light they could see the castles of the darth standing tall. Just for a moment the old elven city was exposed. Then a halo of mist arose from the water and hid the towering pillars with its arches and turrets, its chained doors, and the high rock walls and low, protecting parapets. In the dim light the two friends shivered and knew that magic was loose in the world.
“Are you a’right, Breanna?” the captain asked. He seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare, and it surprised her.
“Yes, I am, captain. The pain has moved to the back of my head where it is not so bad.”
“Breanna, will you consider a favor?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes. “Will you call me Rand, as my other friends do?”
“Yes, captain,” she said. “If you want me to be your friend.”
“Aye, Breanna, I do,” he said with a low chuckle.
“Then I will be,” she said with a smile. “And you must call me Bree.” It was pleasant having him so near. Her heart felt joyful and protected. When a snippet of his thoughts broke into her mind, she erected a barrier to keep them out, to avoid eavesdropping.
“Put your head on my shoulder,” Rand said. “I’m wide awake and you need more rest.”
Later, when Tom awoke for his turn at watch, he stepped out of the cart to relieve the girl, only to find her asleep, with her head against Rand.
“She was in pain. I hope it’s all gone,” the captain said.
“Aye, and I hope you’ll not add to it,” Tom said, eyeing him. “The lass has lost too much a’ready.”
After a bit, Rand replied in a serious tone, “She has. I’ll remember your words, Tom.”
The watch changed and the rest of the night went as quietly as the first part, with the seaside creatures’ foraging confined to the water near the castles. At one point Tom saw the sea roiling near the shore, and heard the booming roars as huge water and land creatures fought over fish in that part of the sea. It reminded him of their own supplies after their hasty departure from the first campsite. Some of their food was left when the oxen headed the cart toward safety.
Sunrise broke, and the rest of their party woke, ready for the day. Breanna’s headache was gone, and she felt rested. The memory of falling asleep on Rand’s shoulder was sweet and made her smile. According to Tom, there had been no recent sightings of giant lizards, trolls, or Kruks near the camp, but he mentioned the fight in the water off the coast. The creatures were unaware of them thus far.
The oxen needed to be spelled again. Breanna’s first attempt was a short-lived experiment. She had used the memories, and made her own magic. If she had grown into maturity on Nore Mountain, she never would have known the secrets of the seven. It was up to her and her alone to learn survival magic. With each failed effort, she knew what to do or not do in the future. With each successful attempt, her elven memory locked it away, allowing her to call it forth again and improve it as she became more skilled. The new spell she conjured for Beth and Barley was for a smooth ride that would allow the people in the cart to observe the countryside.
As soon as they had breakfasted on dried fish, Tom motioned everyone to load up, as it was time to leave. As the Darth of Qayborn passed from her sight, Breanna took one last look at the large land mass, the namesake of her family. She was glad to have seen the ancient home of her relatives, but even gladder to leave it behind.
Tension in the four cart riders eased some as they left the seaside. After traveling a while, a little vegetation appeared along the roadway, and Sean asked Tom to stop the cart and allow him to search for small game in the brush. He hoped to use his arrows and secure meat for their supper.
The cart stopped, and they all stepped out on nature’s green carpet beside the roadway. Both Bess and Barley eagerly grazed on the sweet grass and asked for water. Breanna searched through their meager supplies and told Tom they needed to find a source of fresh water for themselves and the animals. She poured most of the liquid from the barrel into a bowl, and gave it to the thirsty oxen, for the animals were their means of transportation and had to be cared for first. Rand said the road they followed went through a settlement not far ahead, and they could get water and pick up a few other supplies.
Their speed was faster than it had been the day before. Breanna had honed her formula, making the oxen’s load easier to bear. None of the other travelers asked her how it was done; they were grateful she could do it. She knew once the strife was over, if it would ever be over, the questions would start and she would be forced to tell.
Within a short while, Rand spotted a huge object flying toward them, its destination the cart and the people in it.
“Look, it’s a giant blue bird and it looks mean and hungry,” he yelled. “What is that thing?”
“It’s a Phoebus. We have to hide. Their talons can grab us where we sit,” Tom warned. “A dangerous lot.”
The bird circled, coming closer. Tom turned the oxen into a brush-covered glade that offered the animals some protection from the flying carnivore, but there was no real concealment from the creature in the air. They moved out of the cart and slid beneath the framework, hoping to dissuade the Phoebus in its food search.
“We can take it out with our arrows,” Sean whispered.
“Not possible, lad. Wings are hard as iron; you’d never be able to get through. Heard once, top of the head’s the
only place soft enough for an arrow or spear,” Tom said, eyeing the giant carrion eater from where he lay beside the boy.
“Sean,” Breanna said, crawling out from beneath the wagon, “give me my quiver and bow. Rand, can you help me? Let’s trap the thing before it gets one of us. You’ll have to distract it, make it try to attack you.”
“Aye, I’ll do it,” the captain said, swallowing hard, “but why do I want to be bird bait?”
“I’m going to kill it. Do you trust me?” she asked, fearful of his answer.
“A’right, yes, I do. Come on, Mer Birdy, try and get me,” Rand yelled as he stood in the cart waving his arms.
Breanna armed herself, her arrows ready, her feet poised on the threshold of a boulder near the cart. Sheela, I need you again. We are in great danger from this giant bird and I must rise above it. Please help me. Her thoughts were concentrated on the knowledge in her memory, of times when the ancient elves soared across great chasms of space. She saw images of Sheela rising to great heights, and called the ability to herself. Her legs and feet tingled as they readied for the task ahead.
The Phoebus saw Rand, and immediately targeted him for its next meal. The captain was steady, trusting Breanna as she had asked. His eyes remained glued to the huge extended talons of the bird.
“Whenever you’re ready, Bree,” he said as the creature swooped near him. “You might hurry.”
“Steady, Rand. I won’t fail you. I promise,” she said, her toes poised for lift.
The Phoebus dropped just above the captain as the girl sprang from the rock and lifted, higher and higher, over the bird. The bow was ready, the string taut. She breathed in and pulled the fletching near her right eye. The arrows flew, first one, and then another joined its mate in a straight shot down, into the vulnerable crest of the giant head. Both flinted points hit their mark and took the terrible creature to the ground. Breanna remembered the long-ago flight, and the smell of the high flyer that took her from her home. She wondered as she landed on her toes if the bird she had killed was the one that carried her away.
The Gantlet Page 18