by Paul Barrett
I think it’s a better idea than even he realizes.
What do you mean?
There’s gateloah in the Ruins, which means I’ll be able to get us reinforcements, in case we need them, without using a whole lot of blood or herbs.
Great idea.
Erick thought nothing else, already asleep.
30
They stood on the walls, five hundred souls against a sea of undead. The woman and children had fled, and these brave men stayed to buy them time to escape. At twilight the ravenous horde attacked, and by dawn not one person stood in Carlair. But we who lived because they died will always remember their sacrifice.
-Malas Prith, survivor of the sack of Carlair
When Corby told Erick going through the Ruins would add a week to their journey, he thought the scholar too pessimistic. After the first day’s trek into the mountains, he began to believe the estimate was overly optimistic.
“I’ve never been so sore in my entire life,” he told Elissia as the group set up camp for the night.
The day started with his still healing ribs aching, a dull throb made worse by his forced sleep on the hard ground. As they traversed the undulating slopes of the mountains, his legs began to sting, followed soon by stiffness in his back. Three hours into their travel he had discovered soreness in muscles he never knew existed.
They stopped to rest often, everyone rubbing their legs or feet as they drank from water skins and nibbled on bits of cheese or dried meat, conversation kept to a minimum. Although everyone needed these respites, it cut deeply into their progress. As they stopped for the evening, Corby informed them he calculated they had traveled under three leagues, less than half the distance they would have achieved on the road.
“It should become easier,” Corby said as he hammered a tent peg into the side of a hill, moving as slow as the rest of them. He placed the guide rope on the peg while Blink held the tent pole. “Tomorrow we’ll need to move slower because of the pain. The next day will be better. We’ll move faster as we get used to it. Barring accident, we’ll get to Twr Krinnik in twenty days.”
Marcus fell back against his bed pack with a groan. “Twenty days? Let them attack and kill us now.”
“Sort of defeats the idea of going through all this pain, doesn’t it?” Elissia asked.
“But if they kill me now, I won’t have to go through any more pain.”
“That’s enough talk about killing,” Fathen said, his voice harsh. He pinned Marcus with his eyes. “Trust me, my young friend, you know nothing about pain. Ask any here who lived in Draymed.” Turning away, he walked into his tent and let the flap close behind him, leaving the rest to stare at each other in bewilderment.
“Certainly knows how to shut down a good bitch, doesn’t he?” Marcus said.
From where she laid out kindling for a cooking fire, Gabrielle said, “Erick, can you help me a moment?”
Erick walked over and knelt beside the healer, groaning at the stiffness in his legs. “What do you need me to do?”
Gabrielle glanced at Fathen’s tent with fear in her doe eyes and then returned her attention to the kindling. “I’m afraid this may be blasphemy, but I don’t like your priest.”
“If that were blasphemy,” Erick said, sitting to take the pressure off his knees. “Caros would have struck me dead a long time ago.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t like him either?”
Erick shook his head. “Haven’t ever since I’ve known him, which has been almost all my life.” He paused a moment, thinking. “Known probably isn’t the right word. I’ve been aware of him. He seems to have changed since he left Draymed, and for the better.”
Gabrielle took out her flint and steel. “He’s mean.”
Erick smiled slightly. “I don’t think he’ll ever change enough to get over that, but you never saw him when he was really mean.”
The girl shivered as she struck a spark to the kindling. “I’d hate to have known him then.”
That surprised Erick. “From what Elissia has said, I should think Fathen’s temper would be mild compared to Valarie’s.”
“Valarie was nothing,” Gabrielle said, tending the small flame that had started in the chips of wood. “I learned to ignore her because I knew she had to die someday and I would take her place.”
Erick said nothing, shocked at the girl’s bluntness. Gabrielle looked up from where she knelt and frowned. “Was that an evil thing to say?”
“Not at all,” Erick said. “It just surprised me that you would be so pragmatic.” At her furrowed brow, he added. “It’s a compliment. But if you were content in Kalador, why did you come along with us?”
Satisfied with the fire’s progress, she sat back. “I wasn’t content, but I knew my life’s journey. I can always return to Kalador, but I want to see places other than my home.”
“Besides,” she continued, a sad smile on her plain face. “I still have hope Marcus will love me.”
Erick shifted on the hard rock, uncertain what to say.
“I know all about him,” Gabrielle said. “Everyone in the warren knew, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a chance. Maybe now that he’s away from Kalador, I can show him how much he means to me.”
Erick glanced at Marcus, who lay against his pack. Corby sat beside him; the two engaged in quiet conversation. Erick suspected Gabrielle’s hopes were doomed. He stared at the crackling fire. “I didn’t actually help. Did you call me over just to talk to me about Fathen?”
“Is he a Necromancer?”
Erick laughed out loud, causing the others to look at them. He waved briefly and then turned back to Gabrielle. “Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“Because you two heal the same way.”
“What do you mean?”
“He heals slowly like you do. Not as slow, but slower than he should. Aren’t Necromancers the only ones who don’t respond correctly to herbs?”
“Necromancers and ser—” He stopped, not wanting to utter the impossible. Fathen might be pompous, arrogant, and utterly without regard for others, but he would never become a servant of the Master of Shadows.
Why not? Blink thought. Isn’t that the exact type of person Eligos would want?
Erick saw a yellow glow flicker inside the priest’s tent, evidence of a lighted candle. Was the man who lit that candle someone the Inconnu would seek for a convert?
I won’t believe it. Erick thought back. Our dislike of him makes us think the worst, but he served Caros far too long to fall from grace so easily. I don’t trust him, but I won’t accuse him of being Inconnu. Why would a servant of Eligos save my life?
I’m going to watch him, because if he isn’t Inconnu, why doesn’t he heal?
I don’t know. Erick broke contact to find Gabrielle staring at him, concern plain on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Does your head hurt?”
“My whole body hurts, but I’m fine. I was talking to Blink, which distracts me sometimes.”
“Talk—? Oh, I understand. ‘The Necromancers were able to propagate their foulness through the use of bonded imp-like servants called familiars. This unholy bond allowed servant and master to communicate through spiritual mental projection.’” She smiled at him.
“We just call it telepathy,” Erick told her. “But Master Herbalist Howrena’s writing always was flowery, if you’ll pardon the pun.”
“You’ve read her work?”
“All seven books. She may not write well, and I don’t like her bias, but she is informative. Is it possible some people naturally don’t heal well?”
“I guess it’s not unheard of,” Gabrielle said. “It may be nothing, but I thought you might want to know.”
Marcus spoke up from where he still lay against his pack. “So is there going to be dinner soon, or are you two going to whisper at each other all night?”
“I’m working on it now,” Gabrielle said over her shoulder, her tone light with love.
“T
hank you for letting me know,” Erick said as Gabrielle grabbed the striper snake and a sharp knife. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He stood to leave.
“Erick,” Gabrielle said as she sunk the knife into the snake’s throat. “Tell Marcus I’m a better cook than anybody he’ll ever meet.”
Erick stared at the girl a moment, then nodded his head in bewilderment and walked toward the group.
Dinner that night consisted of giant striper snake with fresh corn purchased in Kalador; they all ate ravenously despite their aches. Fathen rejoined them to eat, apologizing to Marcus for his outburst.
As they ate, Erick studied the priest for signs of change. He didn’t know what he expected to see. Outwardly the man appeared no different; same waist-length black hair, now greasy and shorn of its ornamental braiding. Same angular face and deep-set eyes, covered with healing bruises. His blood marked yellow robe had collected dust. Erick noticed he no longer wore his chain and bracelets, but the bandits had most likely stolen those.
Fathen’s personality had changed, seemingly for the better, but Erick still sensed a note of pretense, like the priest exerted a conscious effort to keep his true essence hidden. It slipped earlier when he berated Marcus, but the mask had been firmly put back in place.
But was the mask real, or created by Erick’s own desire for it to be there because he could not accept the priest as anything but his nemesis?
A headache threatened, so he left off pondering and decided to continue with the course of action he had determined earlier in the day. It would provide them with extra safety in either case.
But not tonight, he thought. I’m too tired.
As Corby predicted, they were all so sore and stiff the next morning they could barely move. They traveled slowly that day, making even less distance than the day previous. Several times, Erick almost stopped the march so they could rest for the day, but he wanted to arrive at Twr Krinnik as soon as possible, and every mile closed the distance.
The third day proved better. Their muscles were growing accustomed to the strain, and they began to travel at a reasonable pace, the only delays caused by the nameless mule, which often had to be coaxed to travel the occasionally treacherous terrain.
Marcus took well to the mountains, his phobia disappearing in the close paths and tight crevices that surrounded the group. He even volunteered to scout ahead with Blink, seeming to enjoy crawling over the rocks and gullies, spotting the most accessible course for the rest to follow through the jagged crevices.
The days passed. Despite Elissia’s concern, they encountered no undead or ghosts. No wild animals attacked them, although Erick did spot a mountain lion in the distance one day, its blond coat and brown mane glistening in the sun. Corby’s book knowledge of mountains combined with Blink and Marcus’s scouting abilities allowed them to find enough small game and fresh water to supplement their rations. The weather remained mild. The nights grew brisk, but a cloak and campfire were enough to stave off the chill. Rainfall struck on the fifth day, making for uncomfortable, dangerous travel, but it was thankfully brief, and the worse that happened was a scraped arm when Corby slipped on a wet rock.
They divided the nights into three watches. Erick stood guard with Elissia. She was the only one he could trust to say nothing to the others about his nightly sojourns into the hillsides, since he wanted to keep it from Fathen. She asked once why he disappeared and he only offered that he worked to ensure their protection. She accepted it without further questions.
Blink, who needed less sleep, took the first watch, but also stayed awake with Elissia to make sure no one woke early and questioned Erick’s whereabouts. Such concerns proved to be misplaced. Everyone was so tired at the end of the day that sleep came quickly and remained until forced to leave.
As they drew closer to their destination, Erick’s morale soared higher than it had for weeks. He was exhausted, sore, hungry, his face itched from sunburn, various bug bites covered his body, and a scraggly beard had begun to appear on his face, but he knew the end was near. Once he reached Twr Krinnik, the numerous questions burning through his mind would be answered. They kept a steady pace, everyone cooperated, and even Fathen appeared content, offering scant complaint.
Only Gabrielle concerned him. As they traveled, she grew more withdrawn, saying few words during the day and offering nothing more as they sat for their evening ration of provisions. She sat beside Marcus and would laugh if he made a joke or stare at him like a puppy if he spoke, but to anyone else, she remained cold.
Except for Corby. For him she reserved a whole range of frowns and glares, offering one whenever she felt it appropriate, which seemed often. Corby sensed it and did his best to avoid her, but his desire to be near Marcus made things difficult. Erick’s brief encounter with the jealous Keven gave him great empathy for the young scholar.
“This needs to get resolved one way or the other,” Elissia whispered to him one night at dinner. He studied the trio: Gabrielle glared at Corby, Marcus smiled at him, and the scholar did his best to ignore one while conversing with the other. “She lays in our tent muttering and crying, cursing Corby. Things could get ugly.”
“What should we do?” Erick asked.
“I’m going to talk to Marcus and get him to do something about it,” Elissia told him. “He’s the only one she’ll listen to anyway.”
The next night, as Gabrielle prepared a cold meal for the group, Elissia noticed her sneaking covert glances at Marcus, who sat away from the camp, nestled in a niche created by two rocks, sharpening his favorite dagger.
“She doesn’t like me much, does she?” Corby said, walking up next to her and Erick.
“She’s jealous,” Elissia said.
“Jealous? Why?”
Elissia glared at him. “For a scholar, you’re awfully stupid sometimes.” She stood up and walked toward Marcus, almost feeling Corby’s dumbfounded stare on the back of her head.
She plopped down in front of her brother, who stopped working on the blade.
“Are you going to talk to Gabrielle or just let her continue suffering?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play the idiot with me, Mar. She’s in love with you for some idiotic reason, and it’s causing her to hate Corby. I don’t know about you, but I’m not comfortable with our healer having divided loyalties. You need to talk to her.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know,” Elissia said. “Tell her how you feel. Make her understand.”
Marcus sighed. “I suppose you want me to do it now, don’t you?”
“The sooner, the better.”
He stood and walked over to Gabrielle while Elissia rejoined Erick and Corby.
“What are they doing?” Corby asked as Marcus and Gabrielle began to walk away.
“They’re going to get things straightened out,” Elissia told him. “You’re in love with my brother, aren’t you?”
Blushing, Corby nodded. “Caros forgive me, but I am.”
“Caros doesn’t give a damn,” Elissia told him. “But Gabrielle does. She loves Marcus, too, even though she knows better. Marcus has to convince her to find a more suitable target.”
Marcus and Gabrielle disappeared around the corner of a rock outcropping.
“You do remember he’s your cousin, right?” Elissia said.
“That doesn’t matter. Since we can’t procreate, there’s no chance of a deformed offspring.”
“So if being cousins doesn’t bother you, why does it matter you’re both boys?”
Eyes on the ground, Corby said, “Because it’s wrong in the eyes of the gods.”
Elissia stared at her cousin, astounded he still thought that way, after all the time she spent trying to convince him otherwise. If he stuck to such thoughts, he would never be truly happy, and his self-pity tired her.
“I’m only going to say this once,” Elissia said. “The gods have better things to do than worry about who you give your love
—or anything else—to. They might be concerned about Erick since he has a special relationship with them, but if you think they give more than a passing thought about the rest of us, you have an inflated sense of your importance. If they have a problem with you and Marcus, then they can go fuck themselves.” She turned and walked away, ignoring the shock on Corby’s and Erick’s face. The gods had shown her nothing special. She had no reason to give them any power over her, especially when it came to people she cared about. She could only hope Corby would consider her words and take them to heart.
Fathen stared at her, a frown on his craggy face. “You have something to say?”
“I don’t approve of your language, but I think you’re correct. The gods don’t care about us. They’ve left us to fend for ourselves. Man and child alike, we are alone.” He walked into his tent, leaving Elissia as stunned as if he had turned into a bird and flown away.
Marcus and Gabrielle remained gone for almost an hour. Occasionally, a voice rose in anger, but the echoing rocks made the speech unintelligible. Erick chewed at his thumbnail and Corby paced. Elissia sat nearby, flipping a dagger and contemplating Fathen’s surprising comment.
Eventually, Marcus came around the rock and motioned for Corby to join him. With a nervous glance at Erick and Elissia, Corby walked across the rocks and followed Marcus until they again became hidden from view.
“Ouch,” Erick said as he drew blood from his thumbnail. “Blink, fly over there so I can hear what’s going on.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Elissia said, grabbing the homunculus by the tail. “It’s not our business. They’ll get it fixed, or they’ll kill each other.”
“Did you mean what you said about the gods?” Erick asked.
“I did,” Elissia said. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“You know they exist, right?”
“I never said they didn’t; I just said they don’t care. Or if they do, they care about the wrong things.”