by Shannah Jay
Later, when the deleff walked into their harness and the wagon started moving again, Pivithin went to sit beside Cheral on the driving seat so that he could look around. Here it wasn’t raining. The air was clear and cool, and the terrain around them was high forest, with its clean tangy air. They’d emerged from the portal at a rocky place, where the ground seemed to have slipped a little, leaving a gentle slope like a scar along the earth.
Beyond them thickly wooded hillsides led down into a valley and beyond that -
'Is it possible?' Pivithin whispered. 'Is it really possible?' He raised one shaking finger to point. 'That mountain is Old Growler. How can we be here?'
'You know this place, then?' Cheral asked.
'Oh, yes. I was going to bring you here. Only it's days' travel away, or it was.' He gulped back his panic as Cheral patted his hand. 'The crèche is at the foot of Old Growler. No one else will live there because the ground shakes and thunder rumbles round the mountain. The Sisters told me they chose it long ago for one of their emergency sites and said there was no real danger of the mountain spewing fire for a long time to come.'
Jonner came to join them. 'You seem to know a lot about the Sisters?'
'Because I've been working with the survivors from Temple Beldarik.' Pivithin sighed and stretched tiredly.
'I feel exhausted. I'd like to sleep now, if you don't mind.'
'Good idea,' said Cheral. She watched him sigh quickly into sleep and murmured to Jonner, 'I hadn't realised, but we're growing accustomed to the portals now. We only become disoriented as we pass through them.'
'Those portals still give me the shivers, though.'
She stopped theorising. 'You need some exercise. Jonner! You're getting very slack about exercising. You should get down and walk. In fact, we all should.'
Jonner grimaced at Narla, but did as he was bidden. And Cheral was right, as usual. The exercise did make him feel better.
Two days later, on a narrow rocky track between tall straight trees, the deleff stopped dead, raised their heads as if to sniff the air, then began to show signs of distress.
'Oh, no!' Jonner moaned. 'Not again! Brother, haven't we had enough trouble?'
'I'll go ahead and investigate, if you like,' Pivithin offered.
Jonner gave a huff of dismay. 'Why bother? Whatever it is will come and get us, and quite soon by the looks of those deleff.'
The deleff had now stopped moving and were rocking to and fro, trampling their feet up and down. Both of them suddenly left the harness and started walking off into the woods, crackling and crashing through the undergrowth in what was, for them, desperate haste.
'Never mind investigating anything. We'd better hide, and quickly, too. There's definitely danger coming.'
Jonner pulled Narla off the wagon and dragged her into the woods, following the faint flattened tracks made by the deleff across the rocky ground that thrust up between the clumps of vegetation. Pivithin followed, taking equal care to stay on the tracks and leave no hint that humans had also passed that way.
But something told Cheral to stay on the wagon, something whispered in her ear. She sat on the driving seat, apprehension crawling up and down her spine, but determination building in her. By the time the others realised she wasn’t following them, the first of the verderers had walked out of the wildwoods, bow in hand.
An arrow was nocked and pointing towards Cheral.
'Don't move!' the man snarled.
Jonner, Narla and Pivithin heard the harsh command and froze for a moment. The sound of deleff trampling away into the distance echoed back to them. Jonner stared round frantically, then gestured to the two others to follow him. Still treading only on hard ground which wouldn’t betray his passage, he led the way across to a rocky outcrop, breathing a sigh of relief as he found a cave there. He crawled inside and the others followed.
'It's not nearly deep enough!' he groaned.
'It's all there is,' Pivithin whispered.
'There might be another cave beyond this. There just might.' Jonner began to search the interior thoroughly, feeling his way around the uneven walls. Suddenly he stopped. 'Ah! There is another crevice here, hidden by a fold of rock. There might just be room inside it for the three of us, if we press close together.'
'What about Cheral?' Narla asked, looking towards the cave entrance. 'Shouldn't we try to help her?'
'What can we do? There sound to be several of them.' Jonner shoved her towards the second crevice.
'We can try to rescue her afterwards,' Pivithin said.
'Shh!' Jonner tugged at his jerkin and the three of them crammed into the small space. Jonner put his arm around Narla and settled down to wait.
On the wagon, Cheral remained motionless, trying to conceal the fact that she was a Sister using the new Gift of Soul-Shielding.
'If you make one move, you're dead, old woman,' the man snapped, not taking his eyes from her as other men came silently through the sparse growth to join him.
'I shan't move, sir,' Cheral said, in a voice which trembled and cracked with age. 'I don't move so quickly now.'
A man in a set of darker green leathers came up to join them. 'Who's this?'
'Don't know, sir. Just found her sitting on the wagon when the deleff moved off.'
'Is she alone?'
'No signs of any others and the only prints I can find are of her deleff.'
The leader stared at Cheral. 'Get down, old woman, then stand still and let me look at you.'
When Cheral had done as he ordered, he moved forward to search her body for weapons. She didn’t protest his ungentle search, just made herself seem as old and feeble as she could. When he’d finished, she waited, slightly hunched, like a very ancient woman. Even her skin seemed old, now, sagging with years and hardships. But inside her, a hope was growing that these men would lead her to Taslyn, that through them she’d find and rescue the girl. The crèche must have been discovered, but surely, surely their Brother would protect the child? Cheral didn’t look at them directly, but although they weren’t wearing Serpent robes, she could sense them radiating the same sort of evil.
'She's too old to give us any trouble,' the first man commented.
'They should put women down when they get to this age. They're no use to man nor beast once they've given us children and reared them.' He poked Cheral in the ribs and she whimpered and cringed away from him. 'What're you doing here all alone, old woman?'
'Travelling, honoured sirs.'
'We can see that you're travelling, you fool. Why are you here? Are you on your own? Where are your menfolk?'
'Gone. All gone now.'
'Serpent grant me patience!' He cuffed Cheral around the head. 'Now listen to me, you old hag. What -
happened - to your menfolk?'
'They were taken away to make sacrifice and they didn't come back. And afterwards our deleff just walked into the harness and started pulling the wagon away. I'm not very good on my feet now, so I stayed where I was and rode with them. I didn't know what else to do.'
His fury seemed to be bubbling up as he listened to her slow rambling speech. 'Where was this?'
'Back there.' She pointed vaguely along the track in the direction they had come from.
'What town?'
She cringed, as if expecting a blow. 'I can't remember the names so well, now. My memory's not good.'
'I can't see that you're good for anything any more,' snarled the leader, fingering his dagger.
'I can still cook, though,' she said, as if she were talking to herself. 'My son says there's no one as can cook like me. But I've only myself to cook for now, only myself. And my teeth aren't what they were, either. No fun cooking for yourself when you're my age. No fun in anything any more.'
'Shall I kill her, sir?'
'Yes. No.' The leader gave a nasty chuckle. 'Let's give her a chance to prove what she says about her cooking. Serpent knows, it's no job for a man. It's days since I've had a proper meal. Check the stuff on the
wagon first. If there's anything of value, put it on one side and we'll collect it later. Then burn the wagon.
We're not to leave abandoned wagons lying around any more for other traders to use. We don't want to encourage traders here. We can manage without them.'
One of the men tied a rope round Cheral's arm and gave it a tug. She stumbled off after him, still mumbling to herself.
When Cheral was out of hearing, the leader said softly, 'Even before you deal with the stuff on the wagon, go and check the woods for other traders. But go quietly. If there is someone hiding there, we don't want to warn them we're coming. The hag could be lying, for all we know, to protect her family.'
The search was very thorough and at one stage the three people in the inner cave thought they'd been discovered. But although the verderers found the outer cave, they didn't discover the fold of rock.
'I don't know how they could have missed finding us,' whispered Jonner when the silence had remained unbroken for a few minutes.
'Our Brother was watching over us,' said Narla.
'Well, I hope he continues to do that,' said Jonner. 'If ever we needed help, it's now.' He raised his head and sniffed the air. 'Can I smell burning?' He clutched Narla's shoulder. 'Oh, no! They haven't! They couldn't have!' And he was off, running back to save his wagon.
That night, Cheral cooked a huge meal. The verderers had plenty of equipment and travel supplies. She found herbs in the forest to season the dried meat, mumbling to herself as she searched the ground, so that her guard raised his eyes to heaven and wondered aloud why they hadn’t just killed her outright. She also baked camp bread, crusty and golden with smears of dark ash from the wood fire. No one gave her thanks for this, but the leader nodded once, as if satisfied, after he’d tasted it.
'Did you burn the wagon?' one of the men asked idly as they ate.
'Set it alight, yes. Didn't wait to see it consumed or we'd be there still. Jarulan and raas wood are slow burners. There was no one around to put the fire out, though. We made sure of that. There were only the deleff tracks leading off towards the wildwoods.' He spooned up some more stew. 'The old hag's right. She is a good cook.'
The leader held out his plate for more, grinning, 'Do you men still want to kill her?'
They stared at Cheral, who was rocking to and fro, humming under her breath and staring vacantly into space.
'No. Not yet, anyway. That's the best meal I've had in forty days, ever since we left Beldarik.'
* * *
A small cart creaked along the track, carrying flour and other staples to the crèche. The driver was slumped low on the seat, a broad-brimmed felt hat tilted over his face, not expecting trouble so far away from the settlements. The verderers were waiting for him and had surrounded the cart before he even had time to draw a dagger.
'Where do you think you're going, fellow?'
The man muttered something about delivering goods, then, when they pressed him for details, he remained silent.
The Chief Verderer stepped forward. 'We know exactly where you're going and we know who those things are for.'
Still the man remained silent, but his eyes were fearful now and he couldn’t hide the way his hands trembled.
'Take him to the camp. If he still refuses to tell, emasculate him. Slowly. Painfully.'
He screamed at that and fought them every step of the way, but when his breeches were torn off and he was spread-eagled on the ground, he cursed them instead. A brave man, this, even facing the painful loss of his manhood.
Cheral bent over the fire. 'Brother, lend me strength,' she murmured, then concentrated her will upon the man, placing upon him a Compulsion to tell what the others sought.
As the Chief Verderer picked up a sharp knife and tested it against a piece of meat, the prisoner suddenly shouted, 'I'll tell! I'll tell!'
'Aaah! Tell me quickly, then, friend, if you would live. If you would remain a man.'
The telling took only a minute or two.
Now Cheral was concentrating her will upon the Chief Verderer, for she’d seen the blood lust in his eyes as he approached his victim. For a few moments, she thought she’d controlled his desire to cause pain, but with a sudden slashing movement, he cut his victim's throat, and then stabbed the knife several times into the dead man’s chest.
Cheral hunched over the cookpot, rocking, rocking - rocking away the pain of failure. In her mind she murmured the words of passing from this life. In her heart she vowed vengeance against the Chief Verderer.
Such a creature must be stopped.
'We'll move off through the night,' he ordered. 'It's a two-mooner. We'll have no trouble finding our way.
We'll try again to get in there, and we'll keep trying until we succeed.'
'What about the hag?' one of the men asked as the verderers packed up their things.
'She comes with us. I’ve another job for her. If she does it well, I might let her live for a while longer.' He chuckled. 'She is a good cook, after all.'
Dusk was falling as they approached the mountain. The earth growled beneath them as they walked and a fitful breeze made the younger trees rustle and sway as if they were alive and trying to dance. 'I wouldn't like to live here,' one man muttered to another. 'That mountain's bound to erupt again one day. It gets so hot the very rocks melt, my grandma told me, and then they spew forth like a river. She saw it for herself, saw it cover the farm she grew up on.'
'Her kin were fools to settle there in the first place,' his companion retorted. 'You'd not catch me settling near Old Growler.'
'Shut up!'
They subsided. You didn't argue with the Chief Verderer, not now he was an Initiate of the Inner Shrine.
As he held up one hand, they all stopped and waited for instructions. His smile was pure evil. 'The old hag can drive the cart into the settlement. Two of you can hide on it. The rest of us will follow. This time we'll get past that barrier. I know it. I feel it in my manhood.'
Cheral could sense the wards as they approached. She wanted to cry out, to tell her Sisters to beware, but something held her silent. Moans were stifled in her throat. This was one of the moments when time itself seemed to twist around you, to hover, to wait and then to swoop down and drag you forward on a wave of action.
Someone inside the compound loosened the wards, the cart jolted forward and with a roar of triumph, the verderers followed. Consternation reined for a moment, then a voice yelled, 'Scatter and flee! Scatter and flee!'
But some of the smaller children stood still in bewilderment, others ran to fetch a favourite toy and others fled sobbing without looking where they were going, forgetting all their careful training.
The Chief Verderer scooped up a couple of little girls, shook them violently to stop their screams and roared, 'Stop where you are, everyone, or I'll crack their heads together and kill them like the vermin they are!
Then I'll go on to kill the rest - very painfully.'
A tall Sister stepped out from behind one of the rough huts. 'Stop this!' she called and stretched out one hand to focus her will. She bent all her strength to holding the man still, but he laughed, called upon his dread lord and shook off her Compulsion.
'No, Sister, you stop. Stand where you are and tell the other hags to do the same. You can't escape, you know, even if you leave the children behind. We can track you through the high forests as easily as you’d follow a paved path in Kelandrak. I saw you at the temple there in the old days. No one could mistake that long thin face of yours, or that white hag's hair. Now, are you going to do as you're told or - ?' He shook the two sobbing children again.
'Stay where you are, my Sisters!' she called. Then she stared at the man and waited.
In the end he was the one who had to speak and for that, he vowed to himself, she’d die in pain. 'We'll let the rest of them go if you hand over the girl.'
'What girl?'
He threw one of the two children he was holding to nearest man and drew out a sharp knife to hold at the
throat of the other, jabbing the point in far enough to draw blood. 'You know as well as I do what girl. And if you don't answer quickly, this one dies.'
A dark-haired girl stepped out from behind one of the huts before the Sister could answer. 'It's me they want, Meldra.' She was tall for her age, but still a child, not even on the verge of womanhood. And yet, she had a presence that drew all eyes. 'Let Tenil go,' she told the man, producing her own dagger. 'If you don't, if you harm her in any way, I'll kill myself. And then your master will be angry with you, for I'm sure he’d much prefer me alive.'
He gaped at her, so decisive were her words, then he dropped the child and kicked it to one side.
'Run back to your hut, Tenil. And you too, Sesha.' Taslyn waited until the two children had fled, then moved forward a step. Her small hand was steady on the dagger she was holding at her own chest, her expression clear and unshadowed. 'My life has been danger and flight for as long as I can remember, Verderer.
I’ve little to lose and I don’t fear returning to my Brother's arms. So I'll come with you only if you leave the camp first. And you must leave the rest of them unharmed as you do so.'
'We could kill everyone in this camp,' he offered in return.
She nodded. 'Yes. And we couldn't stop you. The children are too small. But would your master really want you to bring back my dead body? He’d find out you could have had me alive if you hadn't lusted for needless bloodshed and death.'
He glared at her then gestured with one hand. The men behind him started edging backwards. 'And take the wagon with you,' he called. 'We're not leaving anything here for them. They can starve to death for all I care.' One of the man jumped up on the wagon, pushed Cheral aside and turned it round. The nerids whined in dismay as a hard hand on the reins forced them round. A few slashes of the whip made them stumble into a clumsy shambling run.
The Chief Verderer stayed where he was. 'I don't leave till you do, girl,' he said flatly. 'Better I take back your dead body than I lose you now. My master’s been searching for you for a long time.'