“When you told me that you had found a bow, you must now know that I was burning with curiosity. Part of me wanted to settle the question of Nevon’s fate, while the other clung to hope that he had passed safely. But I did not feel at liberty to ask too many questions, out of fear that I might accidentally reveal more than I ought. It was not only my secret and my safety at risk, but that of all those other men in hiding as well. I needed to seek the permission of my commander, and also to learn if I could trust you completely. I sent you on your way, fully intending to find you again when the time was right.
“When I returned to camp and told of the Hounds’ crossing, the spirits of the weakest men finally broke under the strain. Two of those who had been regular guard had relatives in the small farming villages to the south of Tyroc. With the blessing of our commanders, they and a few of the others took leave of us, vowing that they would do what they could to send us provisions to further the cause. They were not yet giving up, but all could see that their health was quickly deteriorating. We did not fault them for parting company with us.
“There was only one who lost complete faith in our fight, who instead of leaving us in an honorable fashion, preferred to try to destroy us. That was Mavek. He secretly sent a message to Braeden through one of the guards at the gate. He wrote that he had been wrong to side with the Circle and that he desired to return to his former post. He said that he knew the name of the traitor who had been smuggling supplies to the Circle. He promised to aid in the traitor’s capture, as well as share all the knowledge he had regarding the Circle’s activities, so long as he was promised a safe return to his old life. He vowed to come back the next day to get an answer to his offer. Braeden was more than happy to give Mavek what he desired in exchange for our lives.
“Two days later, when Elias met with Orrin and myself at the appointed place, he slipped a note on rolled parchment into my hand as we greeted one another. In that brief moment, I sensed that something was wrong. I whispered to them that we were being watched just as a group of men burst out from hiding and attacked us. Elias was captured alive, and Orrin and I were both wounded. We fought as long as we could, but when it was apparent that we were beaten and could do nothing to rescue Elias, we escaped into the woods and hid. There I watched and wept helplessly as Orrin’s life slipped away, knowing that Elias’ would be equally short in Braeden’s keeping.
“The parchment Elias had slipped to me was a hastily scribbled note of warning. It said, ‘I have found out too much, and my doom is imminent. Braeden’s eyes see everywhere, his hands reach far. With every victory evil gains, his power to conjure and sustain the storms increases. He is making way for the Hounds. It is he who calls them and their Master to his side. There is no way back to the lives you once knew—everything has changed. The monk knew the truth, he tried to warn us. Fly while you can. Destruction is coming.’
“I took the note to my commander, but did not share it with the others. He sent me out to find any trace of Nevon and the relic, while he and the rest of the men made ready to move camp. There was no doubt that Mavek had betrayed its location, and Braeden’s forces would be coming for us soon. I knew that I had to find you again, that I had to see the bow you found, to settle once and for all what had happened to Nevon.
“Braeden wasted no time making an example out of Elias. The very next day he was executed. There was no legitimate trial before the court—what use would that have been, when all those in position to judge were safely tucked in Braeden’s pocket? There was no attempt, nor was there the need to attempt, to discover our grievances or understand our demands. Everything that Darik proclaimed so loudly from the public platform was false, all designed to stir hate against us while covering his own murderous deceit. One of our own risked his life to be there for the execution and to report back to us everything that was said. That was the day I found you in the north woods and asked that you bring me the bow. That was also the day we bore the brunt of a fierce attack as we tried to relocate our group. Not surprisingly, Mavek was in the lead, showing them straight to us. We fought hard, killing many and capturing Mavek alive. We took several losses ourselves, and a good number were wounded. As evening drew closer and the storm approached, the guard retreated. For once Braeden’s foul sorcery worked in our favor, as his men did not want to be caught out in its fury. Perhaps, too, they thought it would weaken us, or even kill some of us.
“Several of the men wanted to seek shelter in the underground place we had once used, but I reminded them that Braeden would now know about it, and expect us to go there. I took them instead to higher ground, where there were cliffs and caves I had known about since childhood. We sought shelter there the best we could, splitting up into three’s and four’s, squeezing into narrow cracks in the rock, and caverns so small that they had to be crawled into. It was not a very pleasant place to spend the night, but at least we were dry, and out of the wind, and the immense flood of rain the storm produced washed out all traces of our footsteps. When, after two days, there was no sign that we had been followed, we re-established our camp nearby. That was when I finally came to find you at the temple ruins.
“When you confirmed my worst fears about Nevon, I’m afraid I did not take the news very well. I had lost too much too recently. My grief burned to anger as I strode back to camp. I wanted Mavek to pay for all the pain he had caused, and for the innocent lives that had been lost because of him. It is true—when our commanders met and decided that Mavek’s life would be put to a vote, I asked for first rights. I wanted to be his executioner, because I thought it would ease the pain of loss. Given the choice to go back, I would most likely ask for that right again. Even so, my soul is no less weary of this living death we face each day, and my suffering is no less acute. I lament the bitterness I feel rising up in my soul, and yet know not how to purge myself of it. I must learn to live with the fact that I will never gain my life back. I am destined to wander without home or heritage for the remainder of my days.
“Those who had hung all their hope on the relic took Nevon’s death especially hard. Everyone assumed that when he was killed, the relic was taken from him, and that everything the monk told us was now coming to pass. We were at a breaking point. The Hounds moved closer each night. The guard was no longer sent out to look for us. Either Braeden was weary of losing men in our pursuit, or he knew that the Hounds would rid him of our presence soon enough. By watching their pattern of movement carefully I surmised that they would overtake our camp in another day or two. As much as we despised the thought of giving up, our days in the north wood were finished.
“Most headed south toward the farming villages where they expected to find the welcoming faces of those comrades who had already left us. But I, and a very small group of others, have decided to follow the path Nevon took, to find his body if we can, and to seek out the Guardians of the Ancients. Even if we cannot fulfill the quest as planned, we can let the Guardians know what became of their own, and what became of the relic. Perhaps they know some way of fighting the overwhelming evil enveloping all of Tyroc. It is a fool’s chase more likely than not, but what else have we? To settle down to laborer’s work and a pittance of a wage that will barely keep bread on our tables? Shall we die of old age, alone, and in despair that we never regained that which was taken from us? I would rather take my own life here and now than to succumb to such an empty, meaningless end. We were born to serve Tyroc, to serve the Sovereign and Avery. We will gladly die trying to save them.
“Judge me, and all of us as you will, Elowyn Wind-Rider, now that you know our story. If you think of us as nothing more than brutal renegades, we shall part ways and I shall leave you in peace. If you judge us kindly, we would ask for your help one last time. What say you?”
Elowyn was overwhelmed by a confused jumble of emotions. Instinctively she knew that Einar was telling the truth, and yet how could it be? How could such terrible things be happening all around her? She shuddered to think that not long before sh
e had spent those lovely, peaceful days at Aviad’s temple, the monk had died an agonizing death there. It was horrible to imagine their beloved Sovereign being murdered by his own son. She remembered vividly the dark aura that had surrounded Braeden the first time she saw him, and the way his gaze had made her shiver. Even if she should doubt everything else Einar told her, there was no question that Braeden was evil. The mysterious fair-haired prisoner now had a name and a past, and she finally understood what truth Elias had spoken of before he was executed. How sad that the only man there who had wept over his death was one of Einar’s companions, one of the true Circle.
The unbearable, maddening pain of injustice welled up inside of Elowyn. She wanted to cry and yell and pound her fists. Most of all, she wanted to right the wrong that had been done. But what was there for her to do? This was too big for her. If the entire Circle together could not change things, what chance had she?
“What is it you want of me?”
“You have told me where Nevon fell and what you saw. Now I need for you to show me. Show me exactly where you found the tracks and his things, and recount to me every detail you can possibly remember, no matter how insignificant. The smallest thing may very well help us. The stream bank has been clear of Hound prints for days. The beasts have hopefully moved on, but I must tell you honestly that I cannot guarantee your safety. I realize that I am probably the last person you would choose to trust. Even so, I swear to you, by whatever name you hold most dear, and by Nevon’s spirit, wherever it may rest, that I will protect your life with my own. My companions will swear the same. You shall not perish, lest all of us together have perished first in your defense.”
Elowyn searched the depth of his eyes and realized that this might be her only chance to help him. Einar’s request was such a simple one, and yet for the first time she saw in him fear and desperation. He had one last hope to cling to, and it hinged on her trust alone. He sat across the fire from her, breathless in anticipation of her response, wondering if he had completely destroyed her faith in him.
Elowyn’s gaze did not falter as she gave him her answer. “I do not fear the woods. I will go.”
“Thank you,” Einar whispered gratefully, unable to hide the emotion in his voice. He lifted a small hunting horn off his belt and blew steadily into it three times. Gradually his companions emerged from the wood where they had been waiting patiently in hiding.
A weary, travel-worn group stood before her in absolute silence. Their clothes hung loosely on their bodies, and their rough, gaunt faces wore the haunted expressions of men who have learned to live as prey. Elowyn was startled to think that these were the same men she had seen the night she had spied on their camp. The once proud and imposing men of the Circle looked so different to her now. She did not fear them, or find them contemptible. She felt, instead, as though she wanted to weep for them, to embrace them, comfort them. But she knew that a child’s pity would not be accepted by such men, who had once stood by the Sovereign’s side. She looked down shyly, unsure of what to say, or how to act without betraying her true feelings.
Einar took her unease to be nervousness and tried to reassure her. “Do not fear them, they are quite safe.” She nodded and began to walk. It was better to let them think she feared them. They instantly spread out to surround her in a protective fashion, and even though, at first, it felt strange and uncomfortable to be the object of such attentiveness, she did feel much safer. She had underestimated how much this walk would affect her. The closer she got to her once favorite place by the stream, the more nervous she became. She had not been back since the day Einar had saved her from the Hounds.
Elowyn almost didn’t recognize the place once they reached it, for its character had completely changed. Everything around her seemed cold, lifeless, and uninviting. She could clearly see evidence that the Hounds had camped there in great numbers not so very long in the past. They had even managed to foul the water so that it carried their unmistakable stench. The smell brought back the memory of their attack. Every nerve was on edge, every muscle ready to move. When a small animal scrambled through the brush nearby, she jumped and spun around toward the sound before her mind had time to reassure her body that it was not a threat.
Einar moved toward her, put his hand on her shoulder and said in a low, soothing voice, “Steady now. They aren’t anywhere nearby, I promise.”
Elowyn felt her face grow hot with shame. When she had stated so boldly that she did not fear the wood, she had meant it. But now that she was here, she was terribly afraid. She just could not bear to admit it openly.
Elowyn took a deep breath and began to retell her story to all of them, moving about to show them all the places where there had been tracks and burn marks. She pointed out where each object of Nevon’s had been found. The one thing she could not bring herself to recount to them was the visage of Nevon appearing at her door in the night. She was unsure herself if the encounter had been real or just a horrible nightmare, but she was certain that the telling would be both painful for Einar to hear and frightening for her to relive. She still feared that she would be haunted by the spirit again each time the storms came. She wished she had the coin with her so that she could give it to Einar, or at least be rid of it in the stream where she found it. But she had been gardening when she decided to investigate the sounds of Einar’s movement in the wood and was not wearing her pouch.
Elowyn said as much to Einar, but he told her not to think of it further, that it was hers to keep. Because the coin had been found so far out in the stream, Einar was skeptical that it had even belonged to Nevon, despite Elowyn’s insistence. He knew that Nevon had not been carrying any foreign coins with him at the time of his disappearance. The relic itself had been well wrapped in heavy cloth and tucked away close to Nevon’s body, so that it would be well protected from thieves and accidental loss.
Finally, Elowyn showed them where the drag marks had been, and in what direction they had gone. She shuddered as she peered ahead into the tangled darkness of the Deep Wood, wondering for what twisted purpose the enemy might want poor Nevon’s remains. They all stood for a moment in silence, heads bowed, hats and helms removed out of respect. One of the men lifted a large stone from beside the stream and placed it on the spot. They had nothing to mark it with that the first rainfall wouldn’t wash away, but they felt the need to express their grief in some tangible fashion. Standing in the place where Nevon had fallen made the loss even more real, and deepened both their anguish and their resolve to succeed.
“Well, my friends,” Einar pointed toward the Deep Woods, “this is where we begin.” He turned and looked at Elowyn. She understood what he wanted to say, but couldn’t. It was not very likely that she would ever see him again. And the hard truth was that her situation was just as precarious. The darkness surrounding Tyroc was growing stronger, building up to some unknown cataclysm. There was no longer safety within or without its walls. Einar’s presence, knowledge, and strength had been a comfort to her, though until now she had not fully realized how much. She did not want him to go, yet she knew that there was no way for him to stay. She especially did not want him to depart wondering if he had been forgiven. He needed to know that she had accepted him, that she believed him, and that she finally understood why he had done the things he had. But words completely escaped her.
Einar watched as she struggled with her thoughts, and waited patiently for her to speak. Though the words never came, he was startled to find himself gripped tightly around the waist in a tearful embrace.
“Poor little wind rider,” he said gently. “Be cautious and wise, and if you must flee, seek my companions in the southern cities. They will care for you. I still have hope that one day we might return.”
Elowyn looked up at him with a child’s eyes, so large and innocent, fully betraying every trace of the pain she was not yet skillful enough to hide. They were the same gray-blue as the ocean on a winter’s day, and for the rest of Einar’s life, the image of th
at rapt, anguished face looking up at him remained burned into his memory. When he closed his eyes at night, he saw her face … when he was at rest, if he let his mind wander even for a moment, her face was there, peering up at him.
Einar felt something small and soft being thrust into his hand as Elowyn released him from her embrace and quickly fled into the cover of the trees. He opened his fist to find a small, worn cloth bag with a drawstring top, stuffed with dried herbs and flowers. On the outside the name Elowyn had been neatly stitched. Only then did he know for certain that he had been forgiven. He tied the little bag securely to his belt and moved forward, motioning to the rest of his weary group to follow. He knew that whatever trials they had already faced, the most difficult part of their journey was yet ahead.
In the Arms of the Enemy
The day Einar left marked the start of a great change in Elowyn’s life. Gone completely were the carefree days and nights of frolicking among the trees, and gazing up at the stars. She could still hear the hounds moving about in the dark and knew they were lurking, even though she rarely saw any visible trace of them. There was no one in the wood to protect her now.
The storms became less intense, but persisted longer. Everything seemed to be wet all the time. The insects were thriving, and every kind of vermin was determined to force its way indoors through the cracks in the walls, or the thatch of the roof. Fireweed (and sometimes Yew wood when Elowyn could get it) was kept burning in the hearth to drive them away. Extra garden rue was hung from the ceiling, and tansy strewn on the floor against the insects. As unpleasant as things were indoors, Elowyn reminded herself that they were preferable to the alternative. These were not ideal conditions for sleeping outside, and Elowyn knew she was greatly needed at home. It was now mid-summer. There were a good number of chores awaiting her at this time of year, including many that were not customarily hers. With Morganne so busy, there was simply no one else to do them.
Journey to Aviad Page 15