“It was given to me,” Elowyn answered. “I was asked to deliver it to you, and was told that once you opened it, you would know what to do.”
“Who gave it to you?” Raife asked, his voice growing stern.
Elowyn was becoming more alarmed by the moment. This was not exactly the reception she had envisioned. She could sense the tension rising in the two men, and was not sure what to make of it. This man was supposed to be on the right side, a friend of Elias, and of the Circle. The presence of the man with the curly beard whose face she could not see only added to her apprehension. She wished that she could speak alone with Raife, as she was unsure of what she could safely say aloud.
“A friend and servant of the Sovereign,” she said carefully, her throat going dry. “I was told to speak with you alone.”
Raife nodded to the man with the curly beard, and they both took action so quickly that the girls hardly knew what was happening before it was done. The bearded man had circled around behind them, barring the door and fastening the shutters. Raife blocked the remaining doorway with his body and Elowyn could hear the unmistakable rasp of a weapon being drawn from its sheath. A long, polished dagger glinted in the dim lamp light. Elowyn suddenly remembered her own dagger, the one Einar had given her, and shakily withdrew it, holding it out before her. It was probably both the bravest, and most foolish thing she had ever done. She frantically tried to recall everything Einar had taught her, wishing that she had heeded his advice to continually practice, and knowing just the same that she had no chance of winning a fight against two fully grown men who knew their business. Elowyn’s heart pounded so heavily that her ears rang. She felt a sickening mixture of fear, and of bewildered indignation. Had she been betrayed by the wife of Elias? Had she been Elias’ wife at all? Was it all an elaborate trap, or was Raife not the friend Elias’ wife had thought he was?
“Anything that is fit for my ears may be spoken in the presence of my friend. Play me not as a fool—I well know the emblem on that seal. We have no desire to harm you if you are innocents, and not willing tools and spies of our greatest enemy. Speak truth to us and you shall go free. Speak falsely, and your journey ends here, at the points of our blades. Now, I shall ask one last time. Who gave you this package?”
Elowyn swallowed hard, knowing that whatever became of them as a result, there was nothing else she could answer but the truth. “The wife of one called Elias, who was killed as a traitor to Tyroc.”
Raife relaxed his weapon slightly, but carefully continued his questioning. “How do you come to know her, and by what means did you acquire this package?”
“It is a long and strange tale that I fear you will not believe,” Elowyn replied honestly.
“Strange or not, if it is the truth, I will know it. Tell me the short of it, and we shall see.”
“I was a guest of the Lady Isana. My mother is a weaver and my sister a seamstress, both well-known in Tyroc. We were there only to fit the lady for clothing that her servants had commissioned. It was by chance that Elias’ wife was the servant sent to look after me.”
“Why would she give a stranger, a guest of her lady and mistress, a package with such instruction?”
“Because I was a friend of one who Elias had loved as a brother. I told her also what had become of her husband’s betrayer. She believed in me, and trusted me with the package, knowing that I might be the only way for her to get it beyond the castle walls undetected.”
“And who might that one be, that Elias loved as a brother?”
“Einar,” the man with the curly beard answered for her with a gruff sigh. “I now know who you are. You are the girl who happened upon Nevon’s remains, and the one whom Einar saved from the Hound, are you not?”
“Yes,” Elowyn answered brightly. “How did you know?”
“I stood with him in exile, until we were forced to abandon our fight and go our separate ways. I did not care to continue Nevon’s quest as Einar felt he must, and so I came here to begin a new life. I count myself fortunate that I did not leave behind a wife and children, or any other family. Just the same I have not forgotten the sting of treachery. Someday I will find a way to repay my enemies tenfold. But how is it that you came to be here in Port’s Keep, looking for Raife?” His question held a trace of remaining suspicion that needed to be satisfied.
“I can answer that,” Morganne finally spoke. “It is my doing. When our order for the lady was completed, she was generous with me, and gave me a reward separate from the payment that she owed my mother. I saw it as my chance to escape Tyroc and our mother, who would have kept me as little better than a slave for the rest of my days, and at whose hand, my sisters and I have known nothing but violence. We too, are seeking a new life—we hope a better life. Our chance to flee undetected came swiftly, the very morning after we returned from the castle, and we did not have time to seek a courier in Tyroc. We have carried this packet with us all the while, hoping to find some way of faithfully delivering it without exposing the path of our flight to any who might come after us on our mother’s behalf. Now that we have fulfilled our oath, and kept your secrets, we must trust your word that you will keep ours and not betray us. We wish only to continue on our way unhindered.”
The two men put their weapons back in their sheaths, and Raife bowed graciously. “My apologies to you all. I assure you, it is not my custom to threaten young girls at knife point. But I had to know that you were friends, and not a clever ruse sent by Braeden. I helped Elias on many occasions, delivering messages, bringing him supplies, weapons, even gold, which he then took to the camp. It was a dangerous line we both walked. When he was caught and executed, I feared that my head would be the next one on the block. I still do not know for certain if Braeden has any evidence against me, but I will most likely spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, as will you I’m afraid. No matter how far you journey from Tyroc’s borders, do not underestimate Braeden. There is no limit to his reach. He may just be the one who is fated to bring about the end of all things.
“From all I hear, he is still quietly seeking to destroy what is left of the Circle and its allies. He fears us because of what we know, and because we are prepared to resist him, and teach others to resist him, no matter what the cost. He is furious that we managed to elude his grasp at all—he had not figured that into his plan. But your story gives me hope that he does not yet know of your relationship with Einar, else he would have destroyed you when he had the chance. Even should all the rest of us perish silently in this struggle, someone will be left who knows our story.”
Raife picked up the packet tenderly and ran his fingers along the seal. “Elias was a good man, and is sorely missed by those who knew him. Seeing his seal again brings back many memories—some that I cherish … and others I long to forget.” He lingered in thought for a moment longer before he broke the seal. Inside the outer wrapping were bundles of individually addressed letters, and a note for Raife from Elias’ wife that he did not read aloud, but which seemed to touch him deeply. He then said the last thing Elowyn expected.
“I cannot deliver these—I will not.”
“But you must!” Elowyn replied. “I’ve brought them all this way. She trusted you—all those families are counting on you!”
“Aye. And that will be yet another burden I must carry upon my soul. Even so, it must be.”
“But, why?”
“I doubt not your good intentions, nor those of Elias’ wife. But I do not trust Braeden. I have no way of knowing if all these letters truly escaped his attention and that of his vast network of spies, or if he allowed them to be leaked out, hoping that each letter would find its way, leaving a path for him to follow.
“I have long suspected that I am watched, but that my life has been spared because Braeden still hopes I can be useful to him in some way. Surely he knows by now that I was helping Elias, and yet he has not come after me. Why, if not to use me to ferret out the rest? I will not do it.”
Angry tears of frus
tration began to well in Elowyn’s eyes. She knew by his face that there was nothing she could say that would change Raife’s mind.
“Come, Elowyn,” Morganne said firmly. “We have done what we’ve been asked. There is nothing more for us here.”
They left the courier’s office feeling discouraged, and Elowyn in particular felt outraged and betrayed. Even though part of her knew that Raife was in the right, another part of her felt that she had failed in the one important mission that had been entrusted to her. Her chance to bring some comfort to the outcast had been thwarted—and not by some evil force, but by the very person who was supposed to help her. Stewing in their thoughts as they walked, the girls nearly ran straight into a man who was hurrying in their direction along the crowded street. Morganne automatically glanced up at him and apologized, then abruptly looked down and brushed past him with her hood draped over her face. She grabbed Elowyn’s arm so hard that it pinched, and dragged her along the street as fast as she could.
“We must leave this place, quickly,” she hissed under her breath.
“Why?” Elowyn asked, trying to reclaim her arm from Morganne’s tight grasp.
“I knew that man. He got a good look at my face, and I could tell that he was trying to place me. I want to be well away from here before he realizes who I am. If we are fortunate, he will remain uncertain. I don’t want to give him the chance of a second look.”
The girls hastily purchased some bread, dried fish and onions from vendors along the road toward the inn. They shoved everything into their packs, paid the innkeeper, and departed through the gate of Port’s Keep without looking back. Elowyn felt apprehensive about leaving in such a rush, without asking any questions about what they might encounter on the road ahead, but nothing could be done about it.
For the first few days, the terrain was similar to what they had encountered on the road toward Port’s Keep—the same thick woodlands stretching as far as one could see in any direction. The summer insects were outpouring the last of their energy into song, somehow aware that their days were ending. The lands resonated with their music, and with the calls of birds beginning their seasonal migrations. Every so often, groups of them could be seen gathering together in the sky, circling, landing and taking flight again. Elowyn felt the shift, too. It was in the air, in the sky, and in the movements of the animals. The nights began to get cooler, and the warmth of day shorter.
“We must press harder,” Elowyn told Morganne apologetically.
Morganne gritted her teeth and nodded in understanding. The reprieve she had received when Adelin was being ferried in the cart was over. Elowyn could see that carrying Adelin for long hours was hard on Morganne. When they stopped at the end of the day, she fairly collapsed at their campsite. Elowyn often had to prod Morganne to eat before she fell asleep. At the least, in her utter exhaustion, the ground did not feel quite so hard as it otherwise might have. But when Elowyn woke her in the mornings, she was stiff, and sore, and had difficulty getting her limbs moving.
As the weather began to change, so did the landscape. The woodlands were gradually melting into gently sloping meadows, pasturelands and cultivated fields. They had better visibility, but lacked shelter and firewood. The days were sometimes long and hot with little shade to block the sun. At night, they huddled together under their cloaks and blankets to keep warm. There was nothing to break the force of the wind, or disburse the rain. Sometimes when they made camp they were able to find small bits of wood, and they cut and twisted the tall grasses into logs to add to their fire. But this sort of fire gave more smoke than flame and heat, and it did not last through the night. Much of the time it was simply not worth the effort.
There were no more large towns, only tiny farming hamlets that were nearly deserted during the day. Every able bodied person was working in the fields, bringing in the last of the harvest, winnowing, haying, and generally preparing for the impending winter months. Sometimes the girls were offered hospitality for the night in a home or barn, sometimes not. But they were always able to refresh their water from deep cool wells, and the farmers’ wives gave them food for their packs, and warm goat’s milk for Adelin. There were no taverns or shops. Morganne tried to pay for their food with money from her purse and got strange looks in return. What use was money in such a place? But where one might have food, another might have leather, or woodcraft, or some other useful thing. Everything worth having was bartered for. Days were governed by the trail of the sun across the sky, weeks by the weather, months by the seasons, seasons by the tasks of the field, and by the festivals of the Ancients.
Morganne and Elowyn had never before been so far removed from city life. The nights seemed brighter with nothing to hide the moon and the sky’s full array of stars. But they were eerier somehow, at least for Elowyn, who was used to sleeping in the protective arms of the trees, and who was accustomed to the ways of the woodlands.
A good many nights after they had left Port’s Keep, Elowyn had what she thought was the strangest dream. Her senses had perceived something that roused her from sleep. She looked about in the nighttime stillness. The moon shone brightly above, washing the fields around them in its soft bluish light. A low fog was rising from the earth, swirling through the tall grasses, and over the hills, set aglow by the moon. Every detail seemed particularly crisp, and stunningly beautiful in a lonely sort of way, but nothing was out of place or disturbing. Just as she was about to close her eyes and go back to sleep, Elowyn saw what she could only describe as a hovering ball of white fire. It slowly circled their camp, then floated before her face, just within arm’s reach. She stretched out a cautious hand to touch it, but it shifted its position evasively. As it moved, it seemed to speak to her in a musical voice that sounded like tinkling bells or chimes. She had never seen or heard anything like it before.
The ball of white fire flew about their camp several more times before diving into one of their bags. It disappeared inside it for a moment, passed through it and out the other side. It did the same to another bag. It moved its way along Morganne’s cloak, looking for her pouch and passing through it before Elowyn had the chance to raise any alarm. Lastly, it hovered before Elowyn. It said something to her in its lovely musical language before flying at her own pouch. Elowyn gave an involuntary gasp as the creature flashed past her side. Her skin tingled at its touch, feeling much as a limb that has fallen to sleep, but no other bad thing befell her. It spoke one last time, disappearing among the tall grasses. She watched for a while to see if it might come back. When it did not, she allowed herself to fall asleep once more, certain that whatever the creature had wanted, it had not appeared to have any ill intent. When she awoke in the morning, she had nearly forgotten about her dream. It was far too strange and difficult to explain to Morganne, and so she said nothing.
The road began to bear eastward again, toward the coast. Trees once again littered the landscape. The soil became harder and stonier, strewn with large boulders, and the gentle slopes of hills transformed into rocky terraces. Elowyn thought no more about her dream, until one evening when they found themselves approaching a place in the road that wound its way in between two steep ledges. As they approached it, Elowyn’s instincts were all on edge. She stopped suddenly in the middle of the road and stood motionless. Her eyes carefully took in their surroundings, her ears listening attentively to every sound. She breathed in deeply, smelling every scent that was carried on the wind.
“What is it?” Morganne asked.
“I don’t know…something doesn’t feel right.”
The daylight was quickly waning, and Morganne was visibly exhausted, growing more impatient by the moment as Elowyn stood frozen in place.
“I don’t want to go through there,” Elowyn said, pointing to the path ahead, “but I can’t tell you why.”
“Well, we can’t just remain here,” Morganne said anxiously. “Would it be better to make camp and have it looming ahead of us in the dark? We cannot go back—the last homes we
passed were two days ago.”
“I know,” Elowyn replied grimly, while she desperately searched for any way around the steep rock faces. She saw none. The only thing to do was move forward.
The passageway was just wide enough for a work cart to squeeze through, and no wider. Elowyn watched the ledges above for any sign of danger, but in the growing dusk there was little of anything to be seen. The moon hadn’t yet risen, so they were feeling their way half blind, drawn toward the dim blue opening ahead where the rock fell away from the path.
As they passed through to the other side they saw three men crouched in the shadows of the trees. One was just starting a fire; the other two instantly stood and turned at the sound of the girls’ approach.
“Greetings young travelers!” one of the men called out as he walked up to Morganne. He was rough looking, with an unshaven face and a ragged wool cloak that smelled like old ale. “Night’s getting on, and the open road is no place for any man after dark. Make camp with us.”
“No thank you,” Elowyn said, pressing close to Morganne.
“Come now, we only want to protect you,” the second man said in a wheedling voice. “Lots of wild beasts out there that will tear you to pieces before you even see them coming.” He looked as rough as the first man did and smelled even worse. He grinned at them with a mouth full of blackened teeth, trying unsuccessfully to appear friendly and harmless.
“I’m sure we will be fine,” Morganne said, trying to hurry past them.
The first man drew his sword and used it to bar her way. “You’ll at least sit and have a meal with us before you go on.”
Morganne and Elowyn looked at each other fearfully.
“I’m afraid that we must go on—we’ve no time for a meal,” Morganne said as forcefully as she could.
The first man lowered his sword, but did not re-sheath it, saying, “Well then, if you cannot stay, we won’t keep you. Just pay the toll and you’re free to go on.”
“What toll?” Morganne asked.
Journey to Aviad Page 24