The Haven

by Graham Diamond

  When they looked back from these lofty heights they looked back almost wistfully on the receding distant green and brown of Deep-Forest. But there was no turning back.

  The afternoon sun blazed like a furnace; jutting stones stung at their feet. The climb they were on was perhaps the steepest yet, with rocky weed-filled ridges that twisted in every direction. They were on the side of the mountain, a narrow dusty ridge that clung against the smooth rock side.

  Des gulped. Hector had said that wolves and dogs avoid these hills, and now he understood why.

  It was almost dark when they reached the bottom. The land was craggy, the earth rough to the touch. But at least it was flat. On one side was a thicket of lofty pines amid a grassy copse, on the other side the gentle slope of a small hill. Rambling down between the bushes and evergreens was a shallow stream.

  “Looks like a good site for the night,” said Des turning to Rolf, “Don’t you think?”

  “As good as we’ll find, Des. The slope faces south. That’ll help block that damned north wind.”

  “Good,” said Des. “Then it’s settled. Reese! Where are you, man? Break out your pots, we’re going to have a nice supper and a good rest. After the last few days’ journey, we deserve it.”

  They washed in the stream, cleaning away a week’s worth of grime and dirt. And when they had done, Reese had all but finished cooking. It was another of his tasty stews, one in which he made liberal use of roots and herbs he found in the copse. Eagerly they sat around the fire and ate, finishing every morsel, enjoying it more than they had enjoyed a meal in weeks.

  “Bring out your mandolin, Basil,” called Lawrence. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a good song.”

  “Yes, Basil,” chimed Des, “Let’s hear a song.”

  Obligingly, the bowman went to the pack-mule and took out his carefully covered instrument. He rested with his back to the fire and began to play.

  “I know that tune!” said Nevil.

  Basil laughed. “And what soldier doesn’t?” And without further talk they all began to sing. All, that is, except for Nigel.

  “Why aren’t you joining us?” asked Sinjon.

  Nigel looked at the grinning faces. “Umm, I can’t,” he said, embarrassed. “I don’t know the words.”

  “What?” laughed Rolf. He winked at his companions. “I vote to make Lord Nigel an honorary soldier,” he said. “And I propose we teach him a few of our tunes.”

  “After being among us for so long,” rejoined Sinjon, “I propose we give him the Guardsman’s initiation!”

  “Here, here!” cried Lawrence gleefully. He bounded up and poured water from his flask over Nigel’s head. Before Nigel could move, everyone was doing the same. Nigel took it good-naturedly, even when Rolf yanked off his boots and dragged him to the stream.

  “One, two, three, heave!” He picked Nigel up and threw him into the stream. Nigel stumbled up, soaking wet, and scrambled to the fire. His companions laughed raucously as he stripped off the wet clothes and shivered beside the fire.

  “Be glad we’re not at home,” laughed Rolf. “The usual initiation is to throw the lad into the Valley River. It might not be as cold as this mountain water, but at least you learn how to swim, that is, unless you’d rather drown!”

  Again everyone laughed. Nigel sat there, sulking, naked, trying to get warm. Des came over and threw a blanket over his shoulders. “Well, you wanted to be one of us, didn’t you?”

  Nigel looked up at him and sneered. “All right for you, Captain,” he said. “Just hope you never gain a seat in Council. Now there’s an initiation I’d like to see you go through!”

  Des roared.

  Everyone took their places again and waited for Basil to pick up the mandolin. “And now we can teach Lord Nigel our songs,” said Rolf with a wink.

  And for an hour after everyone sang, including Nigel. Many tunes were simple and easy to learn, the more difficult he hummed along with, skipping a bar here and there. He felt comfortable, despite the dunking, and completely at ease. Des had been right: he had wanted to be one of them. This trip had taught him much about soldiers, and he knew that his feelings about the military would never again be the same.

  At length the singing was done and each man rested quietly, deep in his own thoughts. Nevil took the first watch, Carlo the next. And by that time everyone had fallen asleep. Nigel stayed awake a bit longer than the others; he sat gazing at the dancing flames. Antonius, who had been perched in a nearby tree, came down and rested beside him. Nigel smiled at the bird and stroked his feathers. And they, too, fell into a peaceful sleep.

  By the first light of dawn the horses had been fed and saddled, the mules packed, and the men were ready to go.

  “Dane and Sesto are tracking that way,” said Hector to Des, pointing his snout in the direction of the craggy mountains to the west.

  Des nodded, then looked up at the sky. It was dull and overcast. “Looks like rain,” he said with a scowl. “We’d better move fast. I’d hate to get bogged down halfway up some hill.” He took out a piece of sheepskin, one of the ones he was using to mark their route, and hastily jotted a few lines of indicated terrain. He was all business again, checking supplies, giving shouted commands. To Nigel it seemed he was a completely different person from the fun-loving rascal he had been the night before. Indeed they were all different. The gaiety was gone, the laughter was gone. Grim and determined, they all set back to the serious tasks still at hand.

  And off again they rode.

  *

  The wolves growled among themselves, shaking their heads in heated argument. At last Hector sighed and turned back to the men. “We’ll have to stop,” he said.

  “Stop?” cried Des. “But why? We’ve fallen too far behind schedule already. We can’t afford to stop.”

  “I’m afraid we have no choice,” snarled Hector.

  “There’s fog ahead,” growled Dane, looking to the distraught captain. “It rolls in from the east, fast. This terrain is too tricky for us to track in haze. You’ll have to set up your camp here and wait for it to roll over.”

  Des frowned. “And how long might that be?”

  “Hard to say,” said Hector. “But Dane is right. I told you when we left the Valley that sometimes there might be things that we would have to demand for our mutual safety, remember?”

  Des nodded.

  “This is one of them, my friend. Perhaps the rains will come and wash it away, perhaps we’ll have to sit here for days, who can tell? But going on is impossible. Dane and Sesto will try to make the top of the mountain before it hits, but even they’ll have to wait it out up there.”

  Des cursed under his breath.

  ‘The wolves are right,” said Rolf, looking to the sky. “It looks thick, Captain.”

  “Maybe we can go back down, find some lower ground,” said Des.

  Hector shook his head. “Mountain fog penetrates all the way down. There’s no way around it, no way of avoiding it. We have to wait it out.”

  Nigel sighed. “Looks like we’re struck,” he said with a shrug.

  Des spun and looked at him angrily. “And how much time do you think we have to waste?” he snapped. “Each day takes us further from home and means another day longer in going back. If we don’t plan our timing right the winter’ll be upon us before we know it.”

  “But summer’s hardly begun!” protested Nigel.

  “No matter. We can’t take risks. Time is the one thing we can’t afford. Don’t you see that? If we get caught in the snows we’ll all die, just like Ciru.”

  “And if we try to travel in fog we may all die anyway,” said Hector.

  Des groaned. Hector was right. The mountains were dangerous enough as it was. But he had been serious about how much time they had, even if Nigel didn’t realize it. A mission such as this should have been equipped for a year’s travel, but it wasn’t. Within another four weeks at the outset, he would have to abort the mission, no matter how close to success
they might be. Already they had come farther than any man had ever dreamed of. And the knowledge of the forests already gained was of immense value, whether new lands were found or not. He was not willing to lose it because of the winter.

  “All right,” he said at last, “You win. We have to stop. But the moment the fog begins to clear, even if it’s in the middle of night, I want you to alert me. We’ll break camp and go on no matter when it is.”

  Hector nodded. “Agreed, Captain.”

  The two Trackers nodded also and once again raced from sight as camp was broken.

  Most of the men were glad just to be able to have another rest. They spread blankets around the fire and relaxed. Reese sat busily preparing for supper; he smiled as his companions began to fall asleep. Only Nigel seemed restless; he paced up and down the campsite, occasionally kneeling down, studying some of the unusual plants. Antonius sat on his shoulder.

  Lawrence opened his eyes, looking to Nigel. “Careful, my Lord,” he said. “You’re supposed to stay within camp.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Nigel, “I don’t intend to wander very far. But some of these specimens are fascinating. Remind me to bring some back to the Valley for study.”

  “Stay close, Nigel. If you get caught in the fog you’ll never find your way back.”

  Nigel laughed. “Antonius is with me. I’ll stay close. But I do want to have a look in the thicket.”

  Lawrence bounded up, shaking his head. “Not alone you’re not. If you insist on this digging up roots I’ll have to come with you.”

  Nigel grinned at him. “I don’t need a bodyguard,” he said. “You made me an honorary soldier, remember? But if you really would rather be with me than get some sleep, I don’t mind. Botany is an interesting subject. Maybe I can teach you a few things.”

  Lawrence grimaced. He picked up his sheathed weapon and followed at Nigel’s heels.

  “And where do you two think you’re going?” said Rolf gruffly.

  Lawrence winked at the sleepy soldier. “Nigel’s restless,” he said. “Seems he has an urge to study nature or something. I’ll keep an eye on him. You get your rest.”

  “Well, you’d better not wander far,” replied Rolf. “That damned fog will be here pretty quick.”

  “We’ll not be far,” said Nigel, pointing to a small cluster of trees, “And the minute you call, we’ll come running.”

  “And you’d better!” growled Rolf. He grumbled at the thought of grown men looking for plants, then turned and closed his eyes.

  Nigel led Lawrence between the trees; he bent down beside some foliage. “Look at this,” he mumbled. Lawrence leaned over his shoulder and shrugged. “So? What about it? It’s only a plant.”

  Nigel smiled. “But look at the size of it. In the Valley this species is dwarfed by comparison.” He uprooted it, fondled it between his fingers. Then he turned his attention to another. “And this one! They all seem so much bigger in the mountains.”

  Lawrence paid scant attention as Nigel rambled on. He kept his gaze up at the sky, saw it was dim and murky. “We’d better get back, Nigel. It’s getting dark. And the fog —”

  “You go,” said Nigel. “But I need a few minutes more to look around. Besides, camp is only right over there. I can still smell Reese’s fire.”

  Before Lawrence could stop him Nigel walked a few dozen paces deeper into the thicket. Lawrence raced after him. “That’s enough, Nigel,” he said. “I hate to make this a command —”

  Nigel laughed and slapped him on the back. “All right, you won’t have to. Lead the way.”

  Lawrence sighed with relief; he stepped a few paces back.

  “Wait a minute,” said Nigel. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Over there,” said Nigel. “That’s where we came from.”

  As he spoke a thin haze of fog began to settle over them. Lawrence fidgeted. The way back, whichever way it was, had become clouded.

  “We’ll have to walk very carefully,” the soldier said. “Retrace every step we took.”

  They walked about ten steps, then suddenly stopped. Nigel shook his head. “This is wrong. I don’t recognize any of the plants. Besides, before, I could still smell the fire. Now I can’t.”

  Lawrence grimaced. “You’re right. But look, we can’t have wandered very far. Let’s stop a moment to get our bearings. And we’ll be back in time for supper.”

  *

  Des woke with a start. He opened his eyes, let the smell of Reese’s stew drift through his nostrils. A moment later he had forgotten the disturbing dream. “When do we eat?” he asked, getting up and slapping dirt from his tunic.

  Reese grinned. “A few minutes, Captain. It’s not quite done.” He put the ladle into his mouth and tasted it. “Just a little more spice, I think,” he said, smacking his lips.

  Des smiled, stretched his muscles. He felt much better. Yawning, he glanced about the camp. It was quiet, everyone still asleep. There was no reason to wake them yet, he knew, at least not until supper. Above, the sky was growing dark; he could see the pall of mist gradually lowering over them like a blanket. He walked to the fire and rubbed his hands close beside it, letting it take away some of the evening chill. The flames danced and cast long shadows against the trees.

  “Supper is ready,” called Reese. “Come and eat before it’s all taken!”

  One by one the men roused themselves and groggily made their way around the fire. “There’s only one thing better than sleep,” yawned Basil happily. “And that’s one of Reese’s tasty stews.” He took his bowl and held it out eagerly as old Reese beamed and filled it to the brim.

  Des filled his own, then sat down to eat. “Hey, where’s Nigel?” he said.

  Basil shrugged. Nevil and Sinjon looked about.

  Rolf dropped his bowl. “He’s not here? They haven’t come back yet?”

  Des swallowed hard and stared sternly at Rolf. “They?” he hissed. “Who is they?”

  Rolf looked at him with dismay. “Nigel and Lawrence. They went to the thicket. Nigel said he wanted to gather some plants or something —”

  Des grew crimson. “They left camp?”

  “I saw them, too,” said Reese sheepishly. “But they weren’t going far. Just over there.” He pointed to the trees. Des drew a deep breath. Although not more than twenty paces away, you could hardly see them. “Are you both crazy?” he shouted. “You both saw them, and you let them go? Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you, Captain,” said Reese. “Commander Lawrence assured Rolf they’d be all right.”

  Des shot Rolf an angry glance. “How could you do this? You knew the fog was coming, and you still let them go off like this?” He kicked madly at the dirt “And how stupid could they be? It’s almost night Lawrence should have known better than to pull a stunt like this. But now we’d better try to find them.”

  Sinjon and Carlo got up, making ready to leave.

  “And where are you going?” barked Des.

  The soldiers were startled. “But you just said —”

  “Never mind! Look about you, man! How far do you think you’d get in this pea soup? One step too far and you’ll both be as lost as those two fools.”

  Rolf sprang to his feet, spitting into the fire. ‘I’ll look for them,” he said. “This was my fault.”

  Des pulled at his sleeve. “Oh, no you don’t! No one leaves here. Is that understood?” He let go of Rolf and pushed his way past the others, stepped a few meters from the fire, and looked to the thicket. “Halloo!” he called as loudly as he could. There was no answer.

  Again he cupped his mouth. “Nigel! Lawrence! Can you hear me? Can either of you hear my voice?”

  Still no reply.

  Rolfs face dropped. He stared glumly at the ground. “They’re really lost,” he muttered.

  “What do we do now?” asked Basil.

  Des scowled. “All of you grab hands,” he said.
“We’re going to step as close to the thicket as we dare. But we’re not stepping one foot inside. I don’t want to lose any more men.” He glanced over to Mustapha who was sitting uneasily, straining his eyes to the trees. “Do you think you could find them, Mustapha?”

  The hawk shook his head. “I can try, Captain. But I doubt it.” He flapped his wings and glided above the trees, then disappeared into the mist. Des blinked as he realized how dense this fog really was.

  “No one can find them now,” said Hector. “All we can do is wait — and hope nothing happens to them.”

  Des sighed. “Well, at least we can still try shouting. All right? Together now.”

  “Halloo. Halloo!”

  They could not hear a thing in response.”

  *

  “What was that?”

  Lawrence strained to hear. From very far off came a faint call.

  “It’s Desmond!” said the soldier excitedly. He cupped his hands and shouted back. “Here we are! Can you hear me?” Breathlessly they awaited a reply. At length it came. “Don’t move! Stay where you are! We’ll come as quick as we can!”

  Nigel began to walk in the direction of the voice.

  “Stay put!” barked the soldier.

  Nigel froze, “But the voice comes from over there,” he said, pointing into the shadows. “Shouldn’t we try to meet them halfway?” Lawrence angrily shook his head. “Sounds echo in fog,” he said. “It deceives the ear. One minute it comes from one place, the next minute, another.”

  As if to stress his words the voice came again, this time from the other way. Nigel sat down glumly. Lawrence called again. “Can you locate us?”

  Long seconds passed; finally an answer came. “The fog is too thick. We’ll try.” The next words faded off. Nigel looked anxiously at his companion. Lawrence grimaced and sat beside him. “Night is upon us,” he said. “I doubt they can do anything before morning, and only then if there’s a break in the mist.”