Gifted Avenger

by Nicholas A. Rose

"Men change," pointed out Oston.

  "Still isn't Master Kein's way," insisted Sallis. "This is something different. And Kein is no killer. I saved him from the accusations of murder, remember?"

  "And you got him banished from Marka."

  "The court banished him from Marka; I thought he would go to prison. So in revenge for being banished by someone who's not me, he decided to risk his liberty by returning to Marka, murdering people who weren't me, leaving me messages and melting away again?" Sallis shook his head. "That makes no sense. I doubt very much if I've ever come across this killer before."

  Oston snorted. "So someone randomly happened across the wrong family?"

  "This was planned. The killings were aimed at me." Sallis kept his voice quiet. "But the killer wanted to provoke me, not exact revenge."

  "That makes no sense either," protested Oston.

  Sallis pondered Sandev's words. "Maybe not," he said. Perhaps she had told him the full truth, after all. "But we'll never find out staring at the Calcan road." He pointed south. "The killer went that way."

  "I hate it when you're always so certain," grumbled Oston, touching Hammer's flanks with his heels.

  "You should know by now," replied Sallis.

  He glanced over his shoulder, looking north.

  Oston gave him a quizzical look.

  Sallis shrugged and pulled himself together. "Just a feeling," he said, answering his companion's unasked question. "Daft, but it feels like we're being followed."

  "Wait till later," said Oston, "and we can check our backtrail. Just in case."

  ***

  Sallis applauded Oston's choice of campsite. Set just off the road, trees and bushes sheltered it from the worst the wind could offer - from most directions anyway - and gave them considerable privacy. Sallis doubted if many people actually moved at night, as only sylphs could see really well in the dark and they tended not to drive caravans and carts.

  They checked the two horses quickly, and tethered them to a tree branch, in case either was tempted to wander after their riders.

  Sallis and Oston laid out their bedrolls quickly, built and lit a small fire, then took their swords as they left the small camp.

  Oston wandered back the way they had come in the gathering gloom of evening, while Sallis scrambled part way up a tree to see further. Both road and countryside appeared completely deserted. Copses and lone trees provided plenty of cover for anyone hiding out there, but Sallis saw no hint of anyone following them.

  And yet the feeling persisted.

  "Nothing," said Oston, when he returned.

  Sallis dropped out of the tree and shrugged. "We'll still keep watches," he said. "Safer that way."

  Oston nodded agreement at the sense of this. "There are always lone travelers prepared to thieve off others," he said. "No guardsmen out here to protect the innocent."

  "There used to be," said Sallis, quietly.

  "Back when the lands were one empire," said Oston. "A pity we can't have the security without authority."

  "Balance," said Sallis. "A question of balance. Authority is fine provided it obeys its own rules. The problem is when authority becomes abusive and restricts the freedom of people to act in their own interest."

  Oston shrugged. "But surely some restriction is necessary, else authority could never keep the peace."

  "Some." Sallis shrugged. "But it is always better to apply restrictions at the behest of the people, rather than against them."

  "Thought for supper?" Oston grinned. "Come on, else it'll be tomorrow before we eat."

  ***

  Chapter 9 - The Hooded Falcon

  Walking into the taproom of the Hooded Falcon, Sallis felt that he had never been away, and the intervening three years had never happened. He felt almost as he did the last time, chasing after a thief accused of murder.

  Half the patrons, who were sipping ale or eating meals, seemed vaguely familiar, and the two sylphs stood deferentially beside the barrels of ale he definitely recognized. They had reached their full height since he had last seen them.

  A woman in a dazzling white apron and long gray dress straightened from where she had been wiping tankards dry. Her hazel eyes fixed firmly on his face.

  "Good afternoon, Sallis ti Ath," she greeted him.

  "Mistress Ranessa." Sallis forced a smile of recognition. "You have a good memory for names."

  "Aye, and putting them to faces." Ranessa returned the smile. "Rooms again, young master?"

  "For one night, yes please." Sallis winked at the two infertile sylphs. "And you are Fessan and Mellan," he said. "You've both grown well."

  The two sylphs flushed a brighter blue and bobbed their heads.

  "Work well too," said Ranessa. "Go look after the customers."

  "Se bata," both sylphs murmured together, before moving away to watch the room again.

  "Just you?"

  Sallis shook his head. "I brought Oston with me again," he replied. "He likes a run out from Marka."

  "Is he sightseeing?"

  "I left him outside with the horses."

  Ranessa nodded. "Can you remember the way around to the stables?"

  "I can. Shall we meet you there?"

  "Yes, I'll tell Yadder and Gord to expect you."

  Sallis inclined his head and turned to leave the bar. His gaze flickered casually across the patrons, but nobody seemed to pay him any attention. The way he liked it.

  "Have we got rooms?" Oston sat on his saddlebag and looked up at Sallis as he left the building.

  "I have," replied Sallis. "She's putting you in the stable."

  "Right." Oston's dark eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm sure Ranessa would eat a barrel before letting a customer sleep in the stable."

  Sallis and Oston led their horses around to the Hooded Falcon's stables, where the familiar Yadder met them. They remembered each other (or perhaps Yadder remembered Sallis's coin), but the boy with him was unfamiliar.

  "This is Gord," said Yadder, by way of introduction.

  Gord, a smaller version of Yadder, wore shirt, breeches and boots. On the cusp of his final growth spurt into manhood, his bare arms were corded with sinewy muscle, and his broad shoulders added to an air of capability.

  "No Guyle?" asked Sallis, recalling that a male sylph used to work out here.

  "Returned," replied Yadder. "That's going back; he was only here on loan."

  Sallis and Oston stripped the tack from their horses and then Gord began to clean it. He also offered to look after the two animals, but Sallis shook his head and began to check Glyder's hooves for small stones caught in the shoes. After that, he brushed the horse's coat and ensured he had plenty of oats to carry him through.

  Gord worked quickly on the tack and satisfied Sallis that he knew his work. Sallis should not think of him as a boy; Gord looked only a handful of years younger than he.

  Ranessa came into the stable.

  "No wonder my servants are growing lazy," she said, seeing her guests currying their horses.

  "It's all right," said Oston, "we prefer to look after our own animals. And that's no comment on your lads."

  "Well, you'd best come inside, and I'll show you to your rooms."

  Sallis and Oston, hefting their saddlebags, followed Ranessa back into the inn and up familiar stairs, where a single light-crystal lit an otherwise dingy corridor surrounded by doors to the letting rooms.

  Wealthier by far than when he last visited, Sallis had paid for a larger room, and it had windows looking out over the town, rather than the back of the neighboring building.

  "I'll set the sylphs to preparing your baths," said Ranessa. "One will come up when they're ready."

  Sallis thanked her, before dropping his bag beside the bed he intended to claim for his own.

  "Better than last time we were here," observed Oston, kicking off his boots and reclining on the other bed, head resting on his clasped hands.

  Sallis opened the outer door and checked to ensure nobody had a
n ear pressed against it.

  "You're getting jumpy," murmured Oston. "More than before."

  "I'm wondering if whoever is following us knows we'll come here," said Sallis.

  "Still sure someone is following?" Oston sat up. "We found nobody."

  "That doesn't mean that nobody is there," countered Sallis. "Just that if someone is, they know what they're about."

  "Even so, how many inns are in Istwan?" Oston leaned back again. "They've got no chance of finding out which one we're staying in."

  Sallis pondered Sandev's warning again. "They might not be alone."

  "I'm starting to think you need locking away for your own good," retorted Oston. "You sound like you're losing your mind."

  "Not yet." Sallis grimaced. "But the people I'm worried about rarely work alone."

  "If someone's following us, they're probably far behind," said Oston. "Relax and enjoy that bath. The best in Istwan, as I recall."

  Sallis looked at the only painting in the room, a calming forest with clouds scudding across an otherwise blue sky.

  He knew, no matter what Oston said, that someone had followed them from Marka. And that someone was anything but friendly toward them.

  ***

  Chapter 10 - Gaining Ground

  Breakfast was every bit as filling and wholesome as Sallis remembered from his last visit. Hot oatmeal with fresh cream - something he suspected the infertile sylphs were fed on here - preceded slices of cold meats, a selection of fowl, beef and mutton, with fresh bread rolls and creamy butter to finish off. Not to mention several mugs of strong, steaming alovak.

  Fessan and Mellan waited on with a lot less fuss then he remembered from last time. Though, in fairness, both sylphs had been relatively new to their duties then. They had probably enjoyed plenty of practice since.

  Sallis and Oston were not the only guests, though they were first down to the large dining table. A merchant appeared next, followed by a peddler, both looking as if they had imbibed perhaps a little too much ale the evening before. Oston had enjoyed a mug or two before bed, but Sallis always avoided drinks that might slow his reactions.

  After saying goodbye to Ranessa (and furtively slipping the two infertiles slivers of choca, gratefully received and consumed less than a second later), Sallis led Oston to the stable, where both Glyder and Hammer were saddled and ready to go.

  As before, Sallis tipped Yadder with a silver coin, adding another for Gord. Yadder bit into his coin before secreting it away.

  "Be seeing you again one of these days," he grinned and jerked a thumb towards the two horses. "A pleasure to look after them." He touched Hammer's black nose. "This one's got the look of a warhorse, but not the temperament."

  Oston, grateful for Hammer's even temper, smiled and nodded. Marka's City Guard did not have a cavalry, so the horses were more for ceremonial duties than charges against enemies.

  Gord opened the yard gate, so Sallis and Oston could lead their mounts out to the alley. The street beyond was already busy and growing busier by the minute.

  "Nice and relaxed?" asked Sallis, fingers brushing against the square of cloth in his pocket.

  "Yes." Oston nodded. "And my rear doesn't feel as bad as last time I rode out with you."

  "When we get out of the city, I'll pick the trail up again," said Sallis. "We'll try to catch up some more today."

  "You mean to say you're not on his trail now?" Oston stared.

  "He didn't come into the city," replied Sallis. "Which is why we're leaving by the same gate we entered."

  "He might have doubled back!"

  "I doubt it." Sallis's face hardened. "He's expecting me to follow."

  "You'd better know what you're doing," muttered Oston.

  Sallis frowned. "Have I ever let you down?"

  "Gamal breaking your old quarterstaff might be the start of your luck changing," muttered Oston. "For the worse."

  Sallis grunted. "The moment I find a decent bit of wood, I'll be making a new one," he promised.

  As they wanted to leave the city, rather than enter it, they suffered no delay and passed straight through the gates, barely noticed by even the guards, who were more concerned about those who wanted to come within the walls. The moment they left the city, they mounted - Oston with more difficulty than Sallis - and rode back the way they had come.

  "This is where we left the trail," said Sallis. "Here we go, back on it again."

  Sallis turned Glyder west, then began to arc south once they were well away from Istwan's walls.

  "No road here," said Oston. "And I hope this is grass we're trampling, rather than some poor sod's crop."

  Sallis pointed to a line of trees. "We'll pick up the road over there," he said. "Our man's cut across country to avoid the city." He glanced down at the ground. "And this is someone's crop, so we'd best get a move on."

  "Naughty us," tutted Oston. He glanced up at the pale blue sky. "Be just our luck to get caught."

  "The man we're chasing probably isn't so morally motivated."

  Sallis touched his heels to Glyder's flanks and the animal picked up speed.

  As Sallis had thought, the trees lined the road, perhaps wide enough for carts to pass each other easily.

  "Still with him?" asked Oston.

  "I am."

  "This is the Selim road," continued the guardsman. "We'll have to stock up on supplies."

  "Oh?"

  "Two days from now and this road plunges into forest. After that, the going gets hard as we've got a mountain range to pass before reaching Selim." Oston grinned. "There isn't much traffic."

  "Which might be the reason our fugitive has chosen this road," said Sallis. "You up for a bit of hard riding?"

  Oston nodded. "At least I don't have to stay seated for that. Let's see which of these two can run furthest, fastest."

  Sallis snorted, touched heel to flank, and forged ahead, Oston following his lead moments later.

  ***

  Well ahead of the lumbering Oston, Sallis reined in and stood in his stirrups. Cultivated land had been left behind long ago, and they had seen nobody else on the road, now little more than a track, rutted by heavy carts. Copses of low, wind-stunted trees broke up the monotonous view of rough scrub. But in the distance, far to the south-east, he espied mountaintops, white spires jutting into the sky like an impenetrable wall. And a dark line, which must mark the start of the forest.

  "Thought you said the forest was two days away," remarked Sallis, as Oston finally caught up. Glyder's stamina had won over Hammer's initial burst of speed, which the animal had failed to maintain.

  "Riding at ordinary speeds," grunted Oston. "Not if you intend galloping there."

  "The space out here is amazing," said Sallis. "And most of the continent is like this."

  "Used to be much busier," replied Oston.

  "Where did all the people go?" asked Sallis. "There's no sign anyone ever lived here."

  "When an empire collapses, the result is usually messy," replied Oston, after a moment's thought. "Local lords fight each other for dominance, burn each other's crops, and peasants starve as a result. Or are slaughtered."

  "Unpleasant," said Sallis. He stared along the path again. "We've gained some ground. We can gain some more before nightfall."

  "Not so fast," cautioned Oston. "Hammer at least won't be able to keep up."

  "We'll stay together," promised Sallis. "I know how frightened you city boys get when out in the countryside."

  "Well, there are things out here to be frightened of," pointed out Oston. "Bears, for one. They like forests without any people. Then there's wildcats the size of ponies. Mountain lions."

  "Snakes and spiders," added Sallis, with a wry grin. "Cats of any size tend to steer clear of people, most bears too if they've got any sense."

  "But there are always exceptions," frowned Oston.

  "Of course. Bears aren't the only creatures who like places free from people. Wild sylphs, for example. And ilven are forest-dwellers
."

  "Ilven?" Oston hooted in derision. "You been reading faery stories?"

  "This is the ilvenworld," countered Sallis. "So ilven live on it. Somewhere."

  "But not here." Oston shook his head and snorted. "Ilven!"

  "You suit yourself. A quick break here, and we'll ride on."

  After resting, more for the horses' benefit, Sallis pushed hard for the forest. The trail seemed brighter, and Sallis knew he steadily gained ground on his prey. Oston sniggered that he only rushed so he might catch a glimpse of the mythical ilven.

  "They can't be that mythical," countered Sallis. "A choir of them sang at the coronation of your first emperor."

  "So the historians like to say." Oston's smile failed to hide his skepticism. "Ilven don't exist."

  Sallis shrugged. Besides, he hurried in the hope of catching the man who had slaughtered his friends and adoptive family.

  They pushed on for longer than normal and reached the forest in the late afternoon. Sallis found a likely spot for a camp and Oston quickly had a small fire going, though they had too little time for cooking. They shared hard biscuit and cold water for their evening meal.

  Oston unrolled his blankets first. "You're having first watch again?"

  Sallis, staring into the flames, nodded. "Until moonrise," he agreed.

  But when the moon did rise, Sallis was in no hurry to wake his companion.

  ***

  Chapter 11 - The Wild Sylph

  Night noises filled the forest. Small animals foraged for themselves and their young. Sudden calls showed where diurnal creatures had been disturbed. Small cracklings in the undergrowth betrayed the presence of furtive hunters and equally furtive prey.

  These sounds were often present during the day also, but night dulled a man's vision, so other senses intensified to compensate for the lost input. This increased awareness of sounds, without being able to see, was probably what frightened so many city folk stuck in forests at night.

  No city boy, Sallis reveled in the night sounds. That screech belonged to a woodcock, and those rustlings were small rodents grubbing for insects. A short, grunting cough revealed the location of a young wildcat hunting the rodents.

  Hoping for more, he did not wait long. The forest quietened; his first warning. At first, nothing seemed different, but a vagrant gust of wind brought a familiar odor.

  Sinabra.

  Sallis turned his head. The sylph had been clever, approaching from downwind. He decided to speak slowly and quietly, using the sylph tongue. He doubted this creature would have any knowledge of his language.