“Please gentlemen,” the man said quietly, raising his hands in a gesture of placation. “Let's not be hasty with those swords.”
“Answer us then, quick,” Tarim replied, his voice cold and deadly as a man who had dropped back into the calm stance of a trained fighter. “Who are you, and what do you want, sneaking around into our home?”
The man lowered his hands, popping what looked to be a small stone from his right hand into a pocket. “My name is Ralnor Scott, and I am of the Earthen Cleric's Guild in this city. We are an order devoted to preserving that which was created by the Gods of land and sea.” He pointed at Zya. “I have come for you.”
Chapter Seven
“What do the Earthen Clerics want with my daughter?” Her father maintained his posture, eyes sharp, arm rock-still.
“It… it came to our attention that she was attempting a focus, and she is strongly biased towards the ground in her skills. I have come as a tutor of new students to train her.”
“What if I don't want to join your guild?”
“You already have, Zya. You work in the kitchens. We only allow those with an aspect of focussing already in their nature to enter our guild house, member or otherwise.”
This took Zya by surprise. She had not foreseen this turn of events. “I cannot go with you.”
“But…”
“I cannot go with you right away. I have an errand to run first.”
Obviously not used to being rebuffed, Ralnor stepped forward, only for blades to be raised once more. “There is no need for violence.”
“Wizard or not, you have broken into my home. I see it as nothing less than prudent to protect my family.” Behind his blade, Tarim was a picture of cold finality.
“If you are who you say you are, then I shall return to you presently. I have a matter outside of the city that needs my attention.”
“Do not tarry, young Zya. Your skills may cause someone damage if they reign unchecked.”
“I will be as long as I need to be, Master Scott.”
The wizard moved between Tarim and Lorn, and then turned at the doorway. “You do know that I could destroy those blades.”
Tarim's face was grim. “Let us pray you never see the day you want to try.”
Tarim closed the door behind the wizard and then turned to his daughter. “You have changed your tune all of a sudden.”
“I didn't expect that. For all that my seer's skills have been any use to me, I never thought we would get here to find a wizard waiting in our house.
“I doubt he will be the only one,” Lorn warned. “Give it a few days and expect a visit from every Guild in Bay's Point.”
“That settles it then. We go now. Lorn, find Ju and grab him back from his tour of the city. Father, are the horses well enough to ride?”
“They are recovered from the chill of the Steppes if you mean that.”
“Good. Get them hitched and we ride tonight.”
A fortnight they were on the road. During this period, Zya became unduly reticent, spending increasingly long periods by herself, wrapped up in thoughts about her possible position within a guild, the seers and especially her dreams. Where did all this fit in? There was no ill-feeling in the guildsman approaching her, not like any other situation that had led her to make a decision based on instinct.
“So care to share?” Lorn had ridden up alongside her, and she hadn't even noticed. It was enough to surprise her to speak.
“Not really.”
“Oh, okay.” Suitably miffed, Lorn made to drop back to where Tarim and Ju were practicing fencing with whittled sticks, but Zya reached out.
“No, stay. I didn't mean it.”
Lorn resumed his place. “Look, I know you must have a lot on your mind.”
“More than you could imagine, Lorn.”
“You do know that you could talk to me about it?”
“No actually, I could not. My thoughts are my own, and have to stay that way. I can only say that my reason for leaving was purely personal, and not a reaction. I don't want to be a pawn in some power shift, not when I am unsure of my own skills.”
“Then I would say that your greatest power is common sense.” Lorn approved of people that could take care of themselves. Zya had been striving to show him that side for many moons.
“So my common sense tells me you should be looking for tracks in the road.”
“Your common sense would be right. We have been following their tracks for the last day or so.”
“Really? How close are we?”
Lorn peered in front of him. What he was looking at was beyond Zya's examination of the dirt. “I would say we are a day behind them at most. The tracks are still fresh enough to tell. We shall be with them by tomorrow.”
“And they are following somebody else?”
“Yes. If they had gone through here first we would never have seen their tracks. A great many men and horses have been here recently, doubtless the band of mercenaries that hold captive those that were lost. Evidently somebody has tracking skill amongst your friends.”
“That would be Cahal and Jaden, if either of them are still there.” Tarim and Ju had finished with swordplay and now rode close behind. Her father's face showed relief that she was finally talking.
“Let us hope they both are, father. We can't take on a mercenary band with a cart and a herd of draft horses.”
“Are they reliable swordsmen?” Lorn asked.
“You wouldn't want to bet against either of them in a one on one, or even worse odds.” Tarim replied. “They have proven themselves countless times over the seasons.”
Lorn looked less than convinced. Zya didn't doubt that he wanted to test the mettle of such strangers.
“What about the rest of them?”
“They are followers of the Old Law, like you and I. They have never known violence. The mere thought would be abhorrent.”
“There is knowing how to defend yourself, and that comes a long way short of the boundary where it becomes senseless violence. Let's get a move on, we need to catch them sooner rather than later.”
By the time the day ended, they had not gained on the travellers, so reluctantly in the gloom, Lorn and Tarim made camp. They were up at the crack of dawn the next day, light barely over the mountains to the distant east.
“Why the rush?” Ju asked as they began to ride once more.
“Your friends have taken a different direction to the mercenaries. Their tracks lead off to the South while the wagons continue to roll south-west. The sooner we find them the better.”
“When did the tracks diverge?” Tarim dismounted and studied the ground.”
“We camped at the point last night, so however far they have gone, they will be twice the distance behind by the time they return here, and losing time if they are still in wagons.”
“Let's make best time then.”
They rode for most of the morning, passing from the level grasslands into a low range of hills that were dotted with a series of large copses.
“Nice to see a change from all that grass.” Zya commented as they rode towards one particularly dense area of woodland.
“You will see more in a moment.” Lorn replied. “They turned here into those woods.”
“How in the world did they get wagons in there? I don't see any way in.” Ju walked to the edge of the trees, and laughed.
“What's so funny?” Zya called, still astride Red, her mount for many seasons now.
Ju tugged at some branches, and a whole section fell away, revealing an artfully hidden track.
“Good, but not quite perfect. Well found.” Lorn approved of Ju's actions. “He is doing well as a tracker. Might be able to hold his own in a generation or so.”
Ju frowned. “Should I make that out as a good comment or not?”
“Up to you. Let's dismount. It will be easier to watch out for any surprises that way.”
“Well if Cahal and Jaden have anything to do with it, we will have
eyes on us from the start. I will lead us in.” Zya tugged gently on the reigns and led Red into the woods.
Immediately the normal countryside sounds ceased.
“It's as if we entered a different world.” Ju whispered.
“Nature knows. The creatures of this wood have been disturbed recently. That is why we hear nothing. When your friends leave, they will return. Now be completely quiet when we get closer.”
“Lorn, these are our friends we are talking about.”
“Zya, how long has it been since you saw them last? Who knows what has happened to them since that parting? All I ask is they you do not go rushing in there. Let us at least have a look first.”
With reluctance, Zya nodded her assent. The mere thought that her friends would not be as she left them was beyond comprehension. They proceeded into the copse, following the track until Lorn indicated that they should tie their horses off and continue alone. In the distance, obscured by thickets, there was the unmistakable sound of clashing swords.”
“Who do you suppose that is?” Lorn whispered.
“The guards.” Zya replied, flatly refusing to believe anything bad about her former family.
“Caution.” Tarim whispered, and drew his sword, Lorn doing likewise. Ju readied his bow, but after a quick glance, put the weapon away. “No sense firing arrows in here.”
“I doubt you could hit anything.” Zya murmured.
They made their way through the thicket as best they could, until it was clear that they were on the edge of a glade. There was a wagon painted in the traditional travellers colours, a symbol in itself of their profession. Around it, people tended horses, or sat talking. Off to one side Zya saw the strangest thing. “That looks like… Mavra, fighting Gren.”
“Well don't times change.” Zya did not look back, but she could tell Lorn was smiling. “Well go on then, move forward so we can get a better view.”
* * *
Cahal parried an overhead blow from Mavra, and the blades slid along each other with the steely rasp of finely honed metal, locking at the cross guards. Normally one swordsman would push the other back at this point and they would disengage, and go at it once more, but this is not what happened. Despite her inferior strength, Mavra twisted the crosspieces so that they locked and kicked him hard in the ankle, causing his leg to buckle. Cahal yelled in pain and Mavra pushed him to the ground as he lost balance. Dropping his sword to one side, he curled his legs and rolled out of harm's way. In doing so he rolled over some of the branches that they had used to mark the boundary of their little arena, and yelped as one particularly springy branch decided to find its way in past his armour and poke him in the ribs. He finally stopped just beyond the circle, sitting up with his hands on the dirt behind his back for support.
“Where in blazes did you come up with that?” He asked, still a little surprised, and that was a lot for him.
Mavra looked down at him for a moment, and then let out a whoop of pure joy, raising her sword so that it caught the sunlight, reflecting like a diamond in the sky. “Why disengage, when you could use the tangle to get a blow in?”
“Why indeed?” Cahal conceded. “Of course, that works both ways if your opponent has the same intention. And do not forget, they may well be much stronger than you.”
Mavra flashed him a cheeky grin. “Are you not considerably stronger than me? Would you not have done the same thing?”
“She has you there,” Gren noted from his vantage point on the wagon. Zya smiled as she remembered his copious words of wisdom. “Do unto others as you would expect them to do unto you, but do it first.”
“And do it harder.” Jaden added, grinning as he approached from across the glade. It had been too long since Zya had seen her family. If Lorn had not been holding her arm she would have been up in an instant.
Cahal reached out, letting Mavra help him to his feet. He retrieved his sword, wiping it down with an oiled cloth. “Well done lass.” Mavra smiled, “Luck always helps a traveller on a fateful journey. The same could be said for a swordswoman in a battle. I will have to come up with something new against you next time.”
Cahal snorted at this remark, bringing her up short. “You are not a swordswoman yet, Mavra.” This wiped the smile from her face, which was not his intended goal. “You are doing well, Mother. When you can stand against Jaden and myself together, and keep us at sword's length, then I will call you a swordswoman. But for now rest your arm, girl. Another secret of swordplay is knowing when enough is enough, and in practice never keep at it until your muscles get pulled. No swordsman can fight when these muscles are torn and cannot bear weight.” He pointed at the muscles around his upper arm and shoulder behind his neck.
“Some can't fight even when they are fit and able.” Jaden joked to his partner.
Cahal laughed at this. “Speak for yourself, old man. If you weren't in your dotage, you might even stand a chance against her.”
“Tarim? Zya?” Mavra caught them by surprise. She was looking directly at them in their place of concealment.
In an instant, Lorn had them all ducking down, and quietly moving back out of view.
“I swear that I just saw them in the trees.” Mavra said from the glade.
Footsteps betrayed the fact that Cahal and Jaden were looking.
“Don't see anything now.” Cahal said, his voice quiet.
“You sure you aren't just still caught in the heat of battle, Mother?” Jaden added.
“I saw what I saw.” Zya heard the conviction in Mavra's voice.
The guards hesitated, and then turned away.
After a moment, Lorn pointed and led the way, being careful to make no sound at all. Zya followed him until they were well out of earshot of the makeshift encampment.
A whispering breeze caused a slight rustling of leaves, enough to mask the movements of Zya and Ju. Her father and Lorn would have been invisible to her senses had she shut her eyes. The guards were still within hearing distance, and Zya strained to hear their conversation.
“Nuttin.”' Jaden said with an air of discontent. “There's something up here, but I don't know what.”
“Agreed,” Cahal replied. “Over there. Somebody in the trees.”
Hearing this, Zya figured they had seen her, and made to emerge into the glade. Then she saw her two old friends moving with stealth towards the bushes to her right. Ahead Lorn had moved to a position that gave a vantage point over the camp, all but the place the guards were coming from. Zya wanted to call out, but something told her that she should keep quiet, and that Lorn was not in danger. Cahal pointed, and Jaden noticed the gesture. Quietly, they stalked Lorn, closing rapidly on the unsuspecting quarry. Swords ready, they split around either side of the hindmost wagon, and creeping as slowly as a cat before the kill, readied themselves to pounce. Cahal slowed, his sword raised in front of his face. He edged around the front of the bushes, and was met by nothing. Jaden sprang out, and the two guards almost clashed swords. They looked around in confusion.
“If you want to stalk prey friend, I suggest that you do it from downwind, and after you have taken a bath if you want to be successful.” A voice said from above. The two guards looked up, and found Lorn crouched comfortably atop a branch, grinning at them with sardonic amusement. “Here are your guards!” He said aloud, to somebody behind him.
Jaden readied himself for a battle, raising his sword and stepping back. “Let's take em.”
“No, it is not necessary, old friend.” Cahal replied. “They are not here to harm us.”
“Well put, old friend.” Said a voice, emphasising on the word 'friend'. Tarim walked into view giving Cahal the biggest shock of his life.
“Tarim has returned. Well strike me down where I stand, I never thought we would be seeing you again.”
Jaden sheathed his sword and grabbed Tarim by the wrist in a warrior's greeting. “Glad to see you, my friend. There's been dark times behind us, and more to come. Could do with you being here.”
/> “So where is young Zya?” Cahal scanned the foliage, and she decided to make herself known.
“I am here.” Zya pushed out through the bushes, to find herself being enfolded in bear hugs by the two guards.
“We have missed you, lass.”
“Jaden,” Zya gasped, “how about letting me out for air?”
Jaden released her, and she looked to the bushes. “Lorn come down, and bring Ju out with you.”
As Lorn emerged, both guards exclaimed curses. “You could be brothers.” Cahal said as he looked from Tarim to Lorn and back again.
“Who is to say that we are not?” Lorn replied. “I am called Lorn, son of Hern, of a tribe from the Steppes to the North of here.”
“How did you get caught up in this little adventure?” Cahal asked, justified suspicion in his voice.
Lorn related the tale of the fisherman and the tribe as briefly as possible, but it still took a while. Ju joined them during the tale, getting nods of recognition from the two guards.
“So you have ended up here again.” Jaden said upon conclusion of Lorn's tale.
“For now.” Tarim replied. “We have business in the city, but when it was brought to our attention that you were nearby, we had to come.”
“We should take this to the Mistress,” Zya interjected, “it is better told that way. How is Anita?”
“Anita is fine, girl. But I suspect that all is not as you have expected to find it. We should take you to the Mistress before any more is said.” Jaden led the way back through the glade with not a word more. The sudden reappearance of the travellers deemed lost to the group cause nothing less than an uproar in the camp. The hounds went berserk at the sight of old friends, scaring the horses into trying to run, and causing the wagons to get wedged in amongst the trees. Gren's cook pot got knocked over, ruining the fire, and the cook forgot himself completely and slipped in the mess, swearing profusely. When he saw the cause of the uproar, his anger turned to amazement, plain as daylight on his face. Zya witnessed the change as Gren saw them all.
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 21