Eric shook his head. “It isn’t even winter and you’re telling me that it gets colder,” he said, in awe. “There must be some strong magic worked into this building.”
Bran gave him a long, almost considering look. “There’s no magic involved in it,” he said. “Centuries ago, my ancestors discovered that certain kinds of...stone, if used properly, could trap heat and keep us warm, without the use of magic. It makes this place very hard to find, even if an enemy sorcerer was involved, because there are no magical protective spells woven around the building. We have had invading armies walk over the building without ever realising that it was there.”
Hind was rubbing her hands against the fire. “A scanning spell could find you, magic or not,” she pointed out. “Or do you have protections against that too?”
“No protections,” Bran admitted. “If they knew to look, they’d be able to find us.”
Eric recalled that Herod’s people would have reason to look, but pushed the thought aside. Apart from the sense that someone was watching them – a fairly common sensation in the mountains, Bran had assured him – there had been no sign of danger as they made their way up towards Pittenweem. He chose to concentrate on different issues and bombarded Bran with questions, although Bran refused to answer most of them. The real question – they’d seen no sign of anyone apart from Bran’s family – remained unanswered.
“Branet and her mother will be performing the Welcoming Rites at the Temple,” Bran admitted, finally. “They will be joining us later for food. Now...”
He sat down and turned to face them. “You would be welcome to stay here for a few weeks, if you so chose, but I have a feeling that you don’t want to stay,” he said. There was a new edge in his voice, a sharper tone that suggested that he was more than he seemed. “Where do you want to go from here?”
Eric saw no way to hide it any longer. “I wish to cross the mountains and reach Lawless,” he said. “Can you guide us there?”
Bran stared at him for a split-second...and then he burst out laughing. “That is the voice of ignorance talking,” he said, and chuckled again. “Do you know how hard it would be to get across the mountains?”
“I have heard that it is possible,” Eric said, carefully. Of all the answers he could have had, he hadn't expected laughter. “Can you guide us over the mountains?”
“You’re serious,” Bran said, in disbelief. “Young man...the mountains are very hard to climb, let alone pass through to reach the other side. This place is the highest place on this side of the mountains and you know how hard it was to reach here. If you want to go any further, you wouldn't be able to take the horses or the wagons. You’d be limited to what you could carry on your backs.”
His voice sharpened. “I’ve known men who went up there and never came down,” he said. “I’ve known healthy men who stumbled up there and came down blinded, or lamed, or mad. If you go up there, you and your wife will be committing suicide. I know only one person who crossed the mountain ranges successfully and he died not long afterwards, haunted by what he’d seen.”
Hind leaned forward, interested. “What did he see?”
“No one knows,” Bran admitted. “He just...ranted and raved about sights he'd seen as he made the trek and then back again. We wouldn't have believed that he had made it to Lawless if he hadn’t brought back some trade goods. Even so...you have to be out of your minds.”
“We have no choice,” Eric admitted. Whatever the Oracle had had in mind, she’d trapped them, as surely as if she’d ordered them...hell, she had ordered them and he had no choice, but to hope that she had their best interests in mind. An Oracle who went bad would have awesome power, enough power to bring down a kingdom...or an empire. “We cannot stay here for long.”
“Branet would not let us throw you out into the snow,” Bran assured him. “She has benefited greatly from knowing the pair of you.”
“Even so,” Eric said, “we have no choice.”
Bran stood up and looked down at them. “You are both mad,” he said. “However, if you are bound and determined to attempt the passage, I shall attempt to help you. There are ancient boundary agreements out there and free passage will have to be negotiated.”
“Negotiated?” Eric repeated. “Who are you going to negotiate with?”
“The mountains keep their secrets,” Bran said, with a wink. He turned and started to walk towards the door, pulling on his cloak as he walked. “I suggest that you relax and enjoy the warmth; this building is yours, for as long as you choose to remain in my town. Once we start crossing the mountains, you might never be warm again.”
He pulled the door closed behind him. Before Eric could say a word, Hind got there first. “Your grand plan,” she said, tartly, “was crossing a set of impassable mountains?”
Eric nodded, refusing to heed the warning signs. “Think about it,” he said. “They don’t maintain any army bases or garrisons out here because an army couldn't hope to get into the mountains, let alone cross them. We get across the mountains into Lawless and Herod won’t even have the slightest idea what has happened to us. Even if they send zombies or sorcerers, they’re still going to freeze solid if they try to cross the mountains...”
“And so are we,” Hind pointed out, sharply. Her green eyes seemed to flash with power. “You do know that you could get us both killed, right?”
“I know,” Eric said, lowering his eyes. He could feel her emotions through the ring, the fear that they might have finally found a barrier they couldn't cross. If they were trapped in Pittenweem, they would be caught easily, unless they managed to get across the mountains. Eric couldn't have said how he knew, but he had a sense in his mind that it might be better to move now, rather than wait too long. “I do understand the dangers.”
Hind shook her head slowly. “You, my love, are a crazy man,” she said. “My magic may not hold up if it gets too cold around us.”
“I have faith in you,” Eric assured her, and reached for her. “I didn't marry you just for your magic, you know?”
Hind made to slap him and then pretended to change her mind, kissing him neatly on the lips. Matters progressed from there, taking their minds off the mountains for several hours, before they were summoned for dinner. Bran wasn't there, but Branet was quite happy to chat to them about her plans to become a potions mistress and invent a whole series of new potions. She even chatted about a plan to create the famed Alchemist’s Stone and start changing lead into gold, convincing Hind to regale her with a story about the alchemist who was thrown out of the Academy after he’d managed to turn gold into lead.
“But,” Eric asked, “isn't it meant to be the other way around?”
Hind laughed. “Why do you think they gave him the boot?”
Three days passed slowly, slowly enough to convince Eric that he wasn't cut out for being patient, even with a lovely and willing woman beside him. The Long Hall might have been meant to hold a family, but Eric found it more than a little claustrophobic and going outside was difficult. He went outside a couple of times and, after he nearly got lost despite only moving a few metres from the hall, decided to remain indoors. He was on the verge of suggesting that they left anyway before Bran burst in, carrying a staff in one hand and a pile of fur cloaks in the other.
“Put these on,” he snapped, throwing the cloaks at Eric, who staggered under the weight. They were clearly charmed to help heat a person, which struck him as odd after Bran had gone to some pains to assure him that there was no magic in the buildings. “We have to move now.”
Eric blinked in surprise, even as he passed Hind one of the cloaks and started to pull the other one around him. “We have to move now?”
“There’s an army moving up the trail towards us,” Bran snapped. His dark eyes were fixed on Eric, as if he was regretting ever having met him. “They have to want you and your wife. Why?”
Eric thought about lying and then dismissed the thought as unworthy of him. “I am the Crown Prince
Eric, Emperor-in-Waiting and Lord of Larkrise,” he said. He gestured to Hind with his free hand. “And this is my wife, Princess Consort Mistress Hind.”
“Really,” Bran said. He gave Hind a sharp look, and then nodded. “I think that that army isn't going to be pleased to see you, so we’d better get moving. We have permission to use some of the old trails, but...”
He left his last sentence unfinished as he sprinted out of the room, leaving Eric and Hind to dress. Eric’s mind raced as he pulled on the coat, carefully positioning Morningstar so that he could draw it at once if they were attacked. An army coming after them had to be from Herod – perhaps the necromancer was even leading it in person – unless it was a completely wild coincidence. He shared a long look with his wife and wondered about trying to make a stand, but they both knew that it would be insane. Two people, even one armed with one of the Great Swords, couldn't hold off an army.
“Come on,” Hind said, as she led the way out into the biting cold. The air was crystal clear, allowing Eric to look down the mountainside towards the path, where a small army was slowly making its way up towards them. He peered at them, using his tiny gift to study them closely, and frowned. Most of them wore the livery of the Lord of Garstang, but a handful wore clothes of a darker shade, suggesting sorcerers or even necromancers. The army didn't seem to have seen them, yet Eric knew that that could change very quickly. “Damn it.”
Eric looked over at his wife. “I recognise the leader,” Hind said, flatly. Her voice had gone completely flat, but Eric could sense her concern through the ring. “That’s Master Reginald freezing his unmentionables off down there.”
“Well, let’s hope that he’s as uncomfortable as we are,” Eric said, practically. He took one last look at the army and turned to look for Bran. He was waiting for them, escorted by two others; Branet and her mother. Eric opened his mouth to argue, to point out that it was going to be dangerous and that neither of them had to come, but he closed it again without speaking. He knew what happened when frustrated armies lost control. Bran’s daughter was a child, but that wouldn't save her when undisciplined men got their hands on her.
“This way,” Bran said. He turned and led the way up the mountainside without looking back. He wouldn't have been human if he hadn't felt some resentment towards the royal couple, who’d risked his life and those of his family, but nothing showed in his voice. “We have some distance to make before the night starts creeping in on us.”
Eric followed him up the mountainside, trying to keep calm and focused. “My Gods,” Hind said, from behind him. “Look at that!”
Eric followed her pointing finger and blinked. She was pointing at a massive peak some distance away from their mountain, one so sharp and treacherous that he would never have dared to climb it even on a bet, but it wasn't the mountain that held her eye. Seated on top of the peak, challenging all comers, was a massive black dragon. Just for a moment, massive golden eyes looked towards the tiny group of humans, looking into their very souls...before the dragon looked away, unconcerned with the antics of the mortals below. Eric felt snatches of dragon lore coming back to him and he winced. Dragons never stopped growing and the larger a dragon was, the older and smarter it would be. The dragon he was staring at was one very old, very smart dragon. Dragons could be formidable foes, but they mostly stayed away from humans and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“Bran,” Eric said. The cold air seemed to snatch at his words. “Bran...did you have to ask permission from the dragons to cross the mountains?”
“No,” Bran said. There was a note in his voice that discouraged further questions. “The dragons never take note of our comings and goings.”
Eric frowned, wondering if he could try talking to the dragon, perhaps even asking for help. It would surely take note of the Great Sword and if he could convince the dragon to talk to them, he could talk it into helping them...
A flash of light struck the ground dead ahead of them. He looked back and swore.
The army was catching up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“They’re leaving the village,” Colonel Garyad said. His gaze seemed to sharpen on the tiny insignificant specks in the distance. “They’re trying to head up the mountainside.”
“Ha,” Prince Tendric barked. His voice seemed to echo around the mountainside. “They are trying to hide from my wrath by escaping up into the mountains! Don’t they know that no one has ever crossed the mountains and lived to tell the tale?”
Reginald rubbed the side of his head, wishing that the Prince would shut up. He’d talked so often of the revenge that he intended to take on his father’s murderers that Reginald was half-convinced he'd talked himself into believing that Eric and Hind had killed him, probably with the darkest of sorcery. The Prince had to know that Reginald had organised his father’s assassination – even if he knew nothing about Todtsteltzer and how the Lord had been murdered – yet his constant prattle was getting on Reginald’s nerves. He understood that the Prince had to make it clear that he was seeking revenge – the army he’d brought to the mountains included several lesser nobles who had to be contemplating treason – but it was growing harder and harder to resist the temptation to turn the Prince into a toad, or perhaps a cockroach. If nothing else, something he intended to ask of Herod in the future was the Prince’s head on a stick.
He looked up and peered into the distance, drawing on his magic to enhance his eyesight. The horses near him whinnied nervously; they might have been enhanced horses, but they weren't doing so well on the slushy path. The advance elements of the army had churned the snow into slush, leaving half of the army slipping and sliding in an undignified manner that would have had any reasonable enemy laughing so hard they’d be unable to defend themselves. There had even been a number of accidents, all of which had left wounded men who had been quickly dispatched by their fellows. He ignored the horses and pushed his concerns about the Prince out of his mind, concentrating on the figures in the distance. There seemed to be five of them in all, including a child – or a dwarf. The sight of the child puzzled him for a moment – it couldn't be a dwarf; dwarves lived on the other continent, trading gems and ores with humans in exchange for human products – until he remembered that the family the royal couple had been travelling with had had a child with them. Wisely, they were attempting to flee. It was far safer to risk breaking their necks, or freezing to death in the mountains, rather than risk falling into the Prince’s hands.
“That’s them,” he said. He’d known Hind back at the Academy and knew the feel of her magical field. She had reined it in carefully, but there was enough leakage to confirm her identity to him. No magician – perhaps not even an assassin – could duplicate a magical field to mislead an enemy. “I think they’re trying to get higher before we catch up with them.”
He scowled at the stream of blistering curses from the Prince. It was growing increasingly clear why no one had ever bothered to build castles or even small army bases out here. As the crow flew, they were only forty miles from the free city-state of Lawless, but marching an entire army over the mountains and into Garstang would have been impossible. The only value in the area was what taxes the Lords of Garstang could extract from their population and there was hardly anything in the area worth taking, apart from women and perhaps a few rare ores. The sheer logistics would defeat any attempt to set up a major mining operation out here. What the terrain didn't discourage, the snow would.
“Well,” the Prince snapped, “can't you stop them?”
“That might be ill-advised,” Todtsteltzer whispered, in a disconcerting voice that reminded Reginald of the former Lord of Garstang. “They cannot be stopped until we catch up with them and then they must be killed.”
“They must be captured,” the Prince thundered. His voice seemed to echo around the snowy mountainsides, reflecting back at them. If he had noticed the ghostly impression of his father’s voice, it didn't seem to bother him. “They must be taken al
ive so they can be punished for their crimes against my father!”
Reginald bit down on several choice remarks that came to mind, shaped a magical spell with his mind and launched a burst of light towards the fugitives. It struck the ground in front of them, sending up a gust of steam where it had melted the snow, but they didn't slow down at all. It wasn't a bad choice on their part, Reginald reflected; they had to know what surrendering would get them. He could promise to spare their lives, yet it was a promise he would never be allowed to keep. Herod would take them, kill them and use their life forces to power his unholy spells. And then the Prince would insist on public executions...
“They're not stopping,” the Prince observed. He pulled a telescope out of his saddlebag and peered towards the fugitives. “Archers; take aim. I want them crippled, not dead.”
Reginald opened his mouth to point out that it would be futile, and then changed his mind. The prince could find out the hard way.
The Black Knife Page 27