He closed his eyes and tried to calm his thoughts. Give him something, he told himself. One more foresight. Before you abandon him. A hundred thoughts crowded his mind but he pushed them aside. After a moment his mind was quiet and he slid into foresight.
Katharine slapped his hand away. “Don’t,” she said. “Not again.”
A black, broken city squatted in stinking marshland.
A man in fine clothes was hit, and kicked, and beaten by townsfolk. He wore the arms of a knight of the Heel. They broke his nose, they knocked out his teeth. They wouldn’t stop until it was too late. The knight begged for mercy. But the people were not people any more. They were a mob.
The world was filled with cold and snow and he heard a song on the air. A skinny boy in a thick fur said, “Remember your own mind.”
An old man laid on red dusty ground said, “I wish I could remember her face.”
The future faded and Tom was stood on the Dolenlinn Road looking into Regent’s expectant face. The man looked so fragile Tom wished he could lie.
“It gets worse,” he said. Regent closed his eyes but the corners of his mouth sagged. Despite himself, though it acted against his own interests, he stepped closer and laid a hand on Regent’s boot. “Turn around,” he said. “Leave Idris in the Marches. Heal your duchy.”
“How can I, Tom?” Regent’s voice was little more than a murmur. “I have wolves at my door. Wolves at my door and an enemy in my castle. I would cast them aside and fix this rot in the Heel. But then they will breach my door and all will be lost.”
He shouldn’t leave him. He should help him. It was the right thing to do.
“I am sorry I could not let you go, Tom.” He opened his eyes and the hurt was gone. It was buried under a mask again. “I hope you understand. Sometimes we need to sacrifice ourselves for a greater good.”
Sacrifice. The pity he had felt blackened and crumbled like burning paper. How many men had lost what he had? A wife. A child. An entire life. No. He’d sacrificed enough. Regent was surrounded by advisors and courtiers and knights. He didn’t need Thomas Rymour.
“Draw your people to you,” he said, letting go of Regent’s boot and stepping back. “They will fight for you. Right now, they may welcome the West with open arms.”
Regent’s face closed. “That will be all, Tom.”
Tom bowed. It was a shallow bow. “Your Grace.” He turned and walked back towards his horse. He would go. Now.
Regent was shouting orders. The Council were expectant, waiting for their instructions. Tom said to Tillsdowne, “Would you watch my horse, sir?”
The old man nodded and, as Tom was about to walk into the forest, Glastyn leapt into life.
“Judged nobler in deed than in what we say, will we be when men yet to come us portray. If truthful you are and Last Knight I be, it shall be by my hand I set myself free.”
He sang at the top of his voice, drew his blade and waved it in the air. All eyes turned to the fay in astonishment and Tom walked towards the trees. He expected each quick, tense step to be interrupted by an arrow in the back. Not that they would shoot him. They would challenge him first, maybe. But he wondered how the arrow would feel anyway. Sharp like a knife or blunt like a club? Glastyn continued to sing, others called for him to be quiet, there was general commotion and confusion. But Tom could not tell who was watching. To look back would be to look guilty. So he stared ahead and succeeded where the Last Knight had failed; he made it without looking back.
He didn’t stop. Once he was a few metres in, shielded by trunks, he turned. He could just make out the road through the gaps in the trees. No-one was following him.
“You made it.”
He jumped. Katharine emerged, dressed now in more practical clothing. The motley was gone, replaced by green and brown leathers, trousers and boots. She wore a belt and a bandolier, both adorned with pouches and bottles. The only jewellery she wore was a necklace filled with charms, a dwarfish rune here, a stone with a hole in it there. Her hair was bound in a single tight braid. This was Katharine as a working Pathfinder.
Behind them he heard Glastyn roar about a trail. His part of the plan. Draw the attention and lead the knights on a merry chase. When they finally stopped following him he would take off his borrowed armour and disappear; none of Regent’s knights had the Second Sight.
“Come on,” she said. She was trying hard not to smile.
“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the ground. Dozens of footprints had churned the ground almost into mud before marching off into the forest, dragging two furrows behind them.
“A diversion,” she said. “When they come after us, I want them to go the wrong way.” With that she turned and slipped into the trees.
She was incredible to watch. When Tom had been a boy he remembered how his father had been able to predict, almost without fail, what the weather was going to do. He would stare at a cloudy sky in the morning and predict sun, or look up at clear skies and predict the rain that fell within the hour. Katharine seemed to read the terrain as easily as his father had read the weather. She ignored clear paths that ended up in dead ends. She found ways through knots of trees or the shallow ford over the river without any apparent effort. She walked as if she’d walked this way a hundred times. Even her gait was impressive. While Tom tripped on roots or stumbled on uneven ground, Katharine’s pace was steady and sure.
She didn’t talk. When he tried she hushed him. So he watched her and tried not to imagine what Regent was doing or feeling. Did he think Tom ungrateful or villainous? Did he feel betrayed? Abandoned? The last was the worst. Tom kept remembering the way Regent had stared at the dead man in the road, looking like he bore all of Tir on his shoulders with no-one to help.
Too late to go back. It was done.
They walked until the sun began to set and then Katharine stopped. “They’re following us,” she said. She was pulling things from her belt and setting a snare.
Tom listened too. He couldn’t hear anything. “How do you know?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. “Here,” she said and produced a small trowel. Years in Faerie meant Tom could recognise the unique feel of iron. “Dig there,” she said, pointing at a hollow between two enormous roots.
“How deep?” he asked.
“As deep as you can,” she replied, unrolling what looked to be a fishing net.
The ground was soft, the dirt still damp from yesterday’s rain. The earthy smell that erupted as he dug made Tom smile. Although it wasn’t quite the same, it reminded him of working on his father’s farm.
“Faster,” Katharine told him. She was quick, quiet, calm. “We only have a few minutes. No, don’t look at me.” There was moss and leaves stitched into her net. “Hurry.”
Tom doubled his efforts. He knew what would happen to him if he was caught. Death. There would be no question. His arm ached and he was sweating already but he didn’t slow down. Whatever Katharine was planning, it would save his life.
“Get in,” she said. She kicked flat the pile of dirt he’d made and stamped it into the ground. He climbed into the hole, now waist deep. He stood stupidly, not sure what to do. Katharine pulled a bottle from her belt and splashed the contents against a tree.
“Come on,” she hissed, climbing in next to him and pulling him down into a crouch. She pulled the net of moss and leaves over them, blocking out the light. The hole wasn’t big enough. They were pushed together, knees pushing into the soil, back unnaturally bent, heads pressed together. There seemed to be no air and a tree root pushed his shoulder so far forward Tom thought it might dislocate. Tiny roots from other plants tickled him and their breathing was too loud in the small space. He felt like he was breathing in dirt. He wondered if this was how the dead felt, hugging their knees in a hole in the ground.
“Was it like this when you left your family?” he whispered, more to prove to himself he was still alive.
“No,” she hissed. “Be quiet.”
He could
n’t stay here. There was no air. He couldn’t stand it. He itched to climb out of this hole, jump up and down and shout. His fingers twitched. Was this guilt? Did he want to betray himself for abandoning Regent? Or was it fear, that he would do such a terrible thing and Maev wouldn’t want him after all?
Then a voice cried, “Sir Rymour?”
“They’ve found us,” he breathed.
Katharine shushed him.
“He’s not a knight,” a second man said.
“Sits with them, don’t he? Has airs and graces? If he wears fancy clothes and don’t go hungry, he’s a knight.”
Tom hadn’t imagined people thought of him like that. He wanted to climb out and tell them he wasn’t like the others, that he was like them.
“Someone hears you talking like that your neck’ll go to Tillsdowne.”
“Sir Rymour?”
They were close.
“Besides, only a knight could get lost taking a piss.”
More footsteps and a shadow fell over their shelter. It was well-built; Katharine knew her trade well. But it wouldn’t bear close inspection. One step and he’d be in the hole with them. Katharine took hold of his hand and squeezed. She was betting her life on this too. Tom squeezed back. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He didn’t dare blink.
“Footprints here,” the second man said.
“Think he’s been pinched?” the first man said above them.
“Could be,” he replied. “May not be a knight but he’s worth taking all the same. Regent’d pay a pretty coin to get him back.”
“Emyr’ll tell me why.”
“I dunno. He’s meant to see the future.”
“So he’s not a knight but he’s a seer? Don’t tell me you believe that.”
“Didn’t say I did. But Regent does.”
“Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought.”
“You’ll get us both killed with talk like that. Look.” The second man paused. “Rabbit snare. And dog piss. We scared off a poacher.”
“Guess he’ll go hungry tonight,” said the first man. “Let’s go back. He didn’t come this way.”
The shadow moved away. Tom started to breathe again. He waited for Katharine to say something. But she stayed quiet. Why didn’t they leave? He didn’t want to be in this almost-grave any longer than he had to.
“Katharine,” he began but she squeezed his hand. He waited a moment and began to speak again but she squeezed harder. He had to stop himself from crying out. So he waited, straining to hear what she heard. After what seemed like hours she let go of his hand.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Who’s gone?”
“One of the soldiers waited behind,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“The birds. They only just started singing again.”
Tom smiled. “You’re good.”
“I know.”
“Now what?”
“We stay here for the night.”
“In here?” he asked.
“In here,” she said. “It’s safer. If Regent’s men come back we’ll be hidden. If there are any wolves they’ll avoid that marked tree. And it’ll be easier to find our way by day.”
She couldn’t be serious. “Should we make the hole bigger?”
“You complained about a comfortable bed, remember?”
He had. Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Now the soldiers were gone the discomfort was unbearable. For a moment he wished he was back in that bed, soft and yielding as it was. But then he remembered what came with that bed.
“Thank you,” he said.
Katharine said nothing.
“You were right,” he said. “About me needing to leave.”
“You’re welcome,” she said and her voice no longer carried the edge it had.
Tom smiled and shifted. He resettled his shoulder around the root.
“I lied before,” she said.
“About what?” He was suddenly very tired. It had been a long day. He was sore from the saddle and his body ached from the march through the forest.
“About leaving my family. It did feel like this. My father and my brother came after me. I had to hide from them too. But I did it up a tree, not under one.”
“You must have been scared.” Tom pictured a much younger Katharine, without the experience and the confidence she had now, running from men much older and stronger than her.
“They were crashing around trying to find me. My brother wasn’t a half-bad tracker. He saw mud on the trunk where I’d climbed it. He looked up.”
“What did you do?”
“I froze. I thought I’d been caught. They’d pull me down, drag me home and beat me. I was so angry. They would never allow me another chance of escape.”
“What happened?”
“He didn’t see me.” She yawned. “They moved on. I spent the night up that tree in case they came back. They didn’t.”
“He didn’t see you?”
“I don’t know how.” Her voice was getting light and sleepy. “He was looking right at me. And my first attempts at camouflage were terrible. Perhaps his eyesight wasn’t that good.”
Or perhaps he let you go, Tom thought. “I’m glad you escaped.”
“Me too.”
She took his hand again and the tenderness in the gesture silenced anything Tom was going to say. With her side pressed against his and her gentle breathing all he could hear, it was the closest he’d been to another human being in years. He hadn’t enjoyed this sort of quiet intimacy since he’d lain with his wife, Elaine. Before Faerie. Everything with Maev had been clandestine urgency. Never tenderness.
Tom felt breath fill his lungs and a madness take his thoughts. He would suggest they leave Neirin to his quests, Regent to his politics. He would suggest travel, him and her. They would see what Tir had to offer. Just the two of them. Together.
Instead he asked, “Do you miss them?” He wasn’t sure why.
“Yes,” she said, after a long moment. “I do. But it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t have been a tame housewife. I belong in the world.”
She was right. He’d never seen another person so comfortable in their skin. Katharine was meant to be a Pathfinder.
“That doesn’t mean I’m against being a wife,” she said, voice thick with sleep. “Or a mother.”
She ran a thumb over his. It was tempting. He could be a father again. A husband. He could do it right this time.
But she belonged in the world. He didn’t.
He thought of Maev’s dark, wicked smile. Clandestine urgency might lack the peace and contentment he felt right now. But the passion was unmatched by anything a mortal woman could offer.
Tom fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Chapter 5
Their meeting point was a town called Aeryie. Tom remembered it as a town full of traffic and trade, and only two days south of Cairnagan.
For that reason he thought it was a bad idea to meet there.
“A horse on the Dolenlinn will travel faster than us,” he said. “News will reach the town before we do. They’ll be waiting.”
“Any riders will head to Gansgate and on to Cairnagan,” Katharine replied. The intimacy of the previous night had vanished with the sun. Now she was focused on the path ahead. The forest had given way to an ugly-smelling marsh that was harder to navigate. “No-one will bother with a backwater like Aeryie. Any word they get will be gossip and hearsay and it will arrive late.”
“But it’s on the coastal road,” he said. He tried to hide how out of breath he was; despite the difficult terrain, Katharine’s pace was brisk. “Any travel or trade south goes through Aeryie.”
“The coastal road isn’t used anymore.” She stopped for a moment, looking for signs only she could see. All Tom saw were a few birds, the odd peasant trying to fish or weave reeds. In the distance mills grew like little towers; there was a river nearby. “They think you’ve been kidnapped by peasants. If they’re looking
for you, they’re looking in villages and on farms. And they have their hands full with a dead knight.”
If they’re looking. The words stung, though Tom knew they shouldn’t.
“It’s a risk,” he said.
But she ignored him. So he trailed behind her, feeling stupid and useless. After just months at Regent’s court he was accustomed to his opinion being valued. Regent had listened to him. Maev would listen too. But why would Katharine listen? She was steeped in knowledge of Tir. Any knowledge he had was a hundred years out-of-date. His brief dreams of travelling with her the night before seemed laughable. He would not be an equal or a valued partner. He would be a passenger. Nothing more.
The day was warm and humid and there was no wind. The stink of the marsh was like a fog around them. Tom wondered how far they had to travel. Regent’s train had only been travelling a day, but that had been a day on horseback and on the Dolenlinn. They were on foot and the terrain was difficult. He slipped and stepped into water, filling his boot. More than difficult.
“Careful,” said Katharine.
Great advice. He pulled off his boot and tipped out cold water, grass and an insect. His hose was wet and would not dry until at least tomorrow. He fought an urge to throw the boot across the marsh. It would feel good. But then he’d have no boot.
“Keep up,” she said. He put his boot back on.
Soon enough they found true pathways, laid out in branches and logs. They were uneven and Tom often slipped, tugging his ankles this way and that. His foot was wet and cold and his mood was foul. They found the river forded with large, wet stones. Tom almost slipped and fell in. He heard little laughter. Four nymphs, tiny water fay no bigger than his thumb, sitting on pebbles and dangling their feet in the water. He forced a smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
The nymphs laughed. Then one stood up on her pebble. “Well met, Thomas Rymour.”
He bowed as best he could. The boulder he was stood on left little room for balance. “Well met.”
The nymphs had the shape of women but had shining silver skin, like fish catching the sun’s rays on a summer’s day. “Will you join us for a swim?”
The Realm Rift Saga Box Set Page 6