by Henry Thomas
Lady Eilyth cried as she said farewell to her mare, her trusty Aila, whom she had raised from a foal. She threw her arms around the gray mare’s neck and sobbed openly. Joth did not quite know what to do to comfort her but when they slowed at the bottom of the hill he stopped her and she stood wiping her eyes.
“This is what you saw. This is what made you so sad.”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry, lady, but you needn’t worry. Bell will look after them.”
“Yes. So you have told me. Let us hurry, we are the last ones.” She set out at an even pace. Joth matched her and together they quick marched down the wagon track that they had walked up the night before.
He knew that she felt wrong about leaving Aila and that Eilyth did not like feeling wrong about anything. They jogged on into the night, veering from the track when they could make out the two large steep slopes laying off to the west and venturing overland toward them, knowing that the airship rested in the valley between the track and the hills and making for it as quickly as they could over the broken ground.
After a long time, she spoke. “Thank you for your worry, Joth. I am sorry if I could not say it earlier.”
He smiled at her and they pressed on through a small copse of trees and spied the airship resting on the ground just as they had left it the previous evening. Strange, thought Joth. He would have figured Ryla Dierns to have the ship hovering at its lines by now, as forward as the woman was with everything.
“Quiet,” he stated.
“Yes. What do you think?” She looked at him intently.
“I don’t like it. I can’t see anyone moving on the deck. Have we beaten them here?”
“I know not. We ran a good measure of the way, but they left well before we did.”
“So?”
She looked quickly from him to the motionless airship beyond the tree line and back again. “We could go back and finish the journey on horseback? I cannot think now. My mind is not right, my heart feels too much.” She was nearly crying. “I cannot make sense of anything.”
“You wait here,” he said, trying to comfort her. “I’ll walk out and spring their bloody trap, if that’s what this is.”
“No, do not be foolish. We will go together.”
“I swore to protect you. Please let me honor the words I spoke to your father.” He knew that would stop her.
She gave him one of her half smiles and inclined her head to him.
He started out. “Stay out of sight until I give you a signal.”
“Be careful.”
He strode out to the tree line and peered toward the ship. He saw nothing to worry about, but he could only see the near side of the airship. He drew the sword from his cloak and bore it before him as he walked. What was on the other side, he wondered? Was it Captain Ryla and dour Elmund, jug-eared Galt, and Kipren with his braided beard all huddled in the darkness waiting for he and Eilyth to show their faces? Why would they have waited to lift up the ship? He stepped out of the trees and walked toward the brightly painted hull. If it were a trap, then it would find him sword in hand at the springing. He crept through the grass until he could circle around so that the side of the airship that was blind to him could now be seen.
It was completely empty, he discovered. Everyone who was meant to have arrived already had not made it there it seemed. He liked it not in the least, and he had turned back and started toward Eilyth when a movement caught his eyes at the northernmost edge of the tree line. He saw the captain and crew emerging from the trees and he was about to start toward them, but he froze when he saw eight of the dark coated, sallet-helmed riders step out behind them on their elegant mounts with their lances dipped, herding the crew toward the airship.
Joth was caught in the middle of the field between the airship and the tree line and he knew he would be spotted if he tried to make for the trees. That would give Eilyth’s position away for certain, he thought. He took one final look toward the trees where she was waiting and then made a quick decision, one that he hoped he would not regret. He moved back toward the airship and stood near the gangway of the ship and rested the sword on his shoulder, cradling the hilt in his hand. At the least he could give her a chance to get away and stay clear of these foreign lancers and that pompous alchemist. Perhaps he could pose as one of the ship’s crew and take this bloody mage wherever he needed to be with Ryla Dierns. Then they could all double-back and meet Eilyth at the Merry Haymaker in Grannock once they were shed of the short, balding man and his vehement adherence to protocol. Bloody foolish, Joth thought.
There was no way to know whether or not the mage would try to bring them up on charges or attempt to detain them further just out of spite. They were drawing ever nearer to him from the tree line, but they had not seen him yet. No, he knew he would have to go against what he had said to the airship captain and show the mage his writ from Wat. It was riskier, if not more foolish, but it gave him an opportunity to reason with the man. Never as a peer, however, Joth reminded himself. He was a soldier and he would be a soldier speaking to his superior.
They spotted him then about fifty yards out from the airship and two of the riders spurred their mounts toward him with their lances dipped. He kept the sword on his shoulder but raised his hand to them and they slowed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he called to the riders.
They said something in a guttural tongue and poked their lances at him.
“There’s no use in it, Shiny. They don’t speak Oestersh at all.” Ryla got a kick in the back by a pointy booted foot that sent her stumbling forward. These foreign lancers did not mess about with too many courtesies, or so it seemed to Joth. He thought to keep them talking for a moment longer, to give Eilyth a chance to break away from the trees and get clear of this place.
“I am a soldier of the First Army of the Magistry and I demand to see your officer.”
The two salleted heads swiveled and looked to each other then back to Joth. One jerked his head and lance in unison toward the crew, and Joth decided it was time that he simply nod his head and follow and so he did. Joth cast one last look toward the trees where he had left the lady Eilyth but he could not see her there. Good, he thought, she was smart and she would stay clear, that would give him something to bargain for once the mage began ordering him about. As long as the man did not have Eilyth, then Joth still had the upper hand—captive or not.
The man took the sword and flipped it around handily to rest across his fine saddlebow, all the while managing his horse precisely even as he transferred his reins to his lance hand to relieve Joth of his sword and then back again once the sword was secured.
These lads were good horsemen to be sure, he thought, as he turned and fell in with Ryla Dierns and Galt, though he had no idea where they hailed from. They were mostly young men and they were dark eyed and dark haired and their skin was dark as well, tanned a bronzy hue. Their bearing was that of soldiers, and they were no doubt some foreign mercenaries that the Magistry had brought over to provide escort and protection for their emissaries without pulling troops from garrisons to do the task. Joth did not know enough about the world and the lands outside of Oesteria, he did not know how to speak any other tongue than Oestersh, save a few words in the language of the People.
They paused at the airship for a long span, and six of the riders stayed with the captives while two others lit torches and rode out to search the trees from opposite directions. The leader of the group barked out orders in a guttural tongue and the others obeyed him unquestioningly. Joth looked to the west and found the bright star there that he wished upon, and he made a silent plea for Eilyth to remain hidden and undiscovered by the riders. He stared at the riders coursing through the trees until he worried that his concern might cause suspicion, so he took to looking at the ground or at the sky seemingly unconcernedly. They were speaking in their guttural tongue again,
but he could not understand what was being said. He wished that he had been tutored, educated, shown more; he could tell you hundreds of facts about bowstaves and dressing them for a bowyer, how to stack them for drying so that they would not warp, how to mark out the good from the bad. Useless knowledge here. He realized that he knew nothing outside of Oesteria, and even his knowledge of that was lacking. Ryla was looking at him and he realized that some of his consternation must have been visible on his face, so he wiped it away as best he could and took a look around again. The torches were not visible within the tree line when he gave a cursory glance and swept his eyes out over the field.
The cold was settling in and he began to feel it in his feet. He envied the foreign cavalrymen and their fine tall boots and warm coats atop their elegant horses. The leader was looking out to the trees and speaking with one other rider as the rest of the horsemen looked on. They had rested there for a long time before the outriders returned, empty handedly to Joth’s great relief. One of them was describing his journey to the leader, gesticulating and pointing to the landscape behind him, and Joth gathered that the men had ridden a great circle around the entire wood and met in the center and seen no sign of anyone.
The leader sat thinking for a long time before barking out an order and falling in formation with his men behind Joth. They moved them away from the airship and toward the break in the trees that led to the road and to Grannock. He hoped beyond everything that Eilyth would stay hidden and safe and that Mage Alchemist Norden would prove to be a reasonable man as he plodded on in the dim torchlight alongside the airship’s crew with foreign lances at his back.
It began to rain as they left the field and he heard Elmund mutter a curse. In minutes their hair was soaked through and dripping, and by the time they made the track that led to the small hilltop town their silken garments were hanging from their shivering limbs like wet sheets. He thought about Eilyth and hoped she was faring better than they were out in the wet and cold. They trudged on toward the town and through the small hours of the night before making the inn.
When they were marched into the great room, dripping wet with teeth chattering, the small frame of Mage Alchemist Norden detached itself from a chair near the roaring fire and addressed them. “Well you do not disappoint,” he said venomously. “I am a man who takes precautions against such antics. You should have seen that from the start. Where is the other one, the girl?”
It was unclear to Joth whether he was addressing the horsemen or their party or both. Norden said something in the guttural tongue and was quickly answered by one of the foreign soldiers.
“No matter. She’ll not be able to pilot the airship alone. Especially not without this.” He held up the elegant bronze wand that Ryla Dierns usually carried at her belt tantalizingly. “Will she, now?” He gave a snide look to the airship captain, who stood fuming in her bedraggled state. “This little ruse of yours is a breach of the law and I plan on making you pay for that, captain. You have caused me delays.”
Ryla stared daggers at the man.
Norden walked to the stairs and started up. “I’ve posted guards inside and out, so don’t even think of trying my patience further, or I shall have to turn to more severe measures. You are to be confined to your quarters until further notice.” He said something to the guards then in their tongue and Joth was being pulled and shoved toward the stairs with the others. Norden stood at the top of the stairs and watched with a smug expression as they were all escorted to their rooms at the inn and shoved inside. He turned in time to see the little man yawn and turn to his own door as the rough hands of the foreign guardsmen tossed Joth past the door frame and his door slammed shut behind him. Evidently their escape plan had not gone over well with their captors, and he could not blame them; he would have hated being roused in the middle of the night and sent out into the rain and the cold on round up duty.
Joth stripped his clothes off and wrung them out in the washbasin, then laid them over the chairback so that they might dry more quickly. He carried the basin to the window and opened it, the wind carrying the rain into his room as he emptied the dirty water out into the courtyard below. For a moment he thought he saw Eilyth step out of the shadows near the stable yard, but that must be his imagination as he stared for a long time to see if she would move again and nothing happened. After a long time of wondering about her, Joth climbed beneath the coverlet and fell asleep to the sound of rain against his window with a worry in his heart.
Twenty-One
Joth was dressed in his damp and wrinkled soldier’s clothes but he was near the fire and its warmth was helping him to keep from shivering in the cold morning. He had woken an hour before and decided it would be best for him to present himself to the mage in his First Army kit in order to strengthen his claim. His helm was spotted with rust and his jack smelled slightly sour, but he put it on over his hosen and singlet. The People had washed his gear for him and it was clean, but being unworn and packed away for the last few weeks had creased his clothing in odd places and left him looking rather disheveled. He had combed his hair and shaved himself in the washbasin and used all of the water in the ewer to clean as best as he could. He took the last of the scented oil that Eilyth had given him and combed it through his hair and rubbed it into his skin to stop him from smelling sour.
Now he was stood in the great room of the Merry Hay-maker in Grannock, near the fire, while Mage Alchemist Norden looked him up and down and read and reread the writ that Wat had drawn up for him—the writ that Ryla Dierns had been forcibly parted with at her capture, presumably. Norden mumbled to himself as he read the well-folded document. Joth stood at attention and cradled his rusty helm under his arm. How many times was the man going to read the bloody paper before he said something? The mage folded the writ up again and placed it on a small table next to his chair and smiled at Joth for a long time before speaking.
“You have been keeping secrets it seems, Linesman Andries.” He made a steeple of his hands in his lap.
“My lord, I was ordered to keep the mission absolutely quiet. I apologize.”
“Yes, I understand. Of course you must recognize that as mage alchemist, I technically hold the same rank as Lord Uhlmet, therefore your reporting to me on the particulars does not truly break any protocol.”
“As you say, my lord.” Joth was not going to let the man squirm his way into more information than he needed to know. “Now that you understand the urgent nature of my mission, I was hoping that you would release the airship’s crew and allow us to press on. Every moment we lose puts Lord Uhlmet’s life in greater jeopardy.”
Norden shook his head slowly back and forth, but a glimmer of his seedy smile remained. “What a shame. Truly.” He accented the emphatic nature of the last word by holding Joth’s eyes for a long beat before continuing. “Of course, this news will come as an absolute shock to the council—you understand, Linesman Andries? They would never wish for any detail of Lord Uhlmet’s defeat at the hands of the savages to be spread publicly by word of mouth. It would have damaging effects upon the Magistry’s rule, and it would start a public panic with talk of savages coming over the mountains.” He leaned in toward Joth conspiratorially. “This charge of yours mentioned in the writ, it’s that red-headed creature you’re with, is it not?”
“I’d rather we left her out of it entirely, my lord.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Unfortunately, as she is mentioned in the writ, I have no choice but to inquire as to her whereabouts, her role in all of this, and of course why the Lord Uhlmet is sending this girl to Twinton.”
“My lord, with great respect, I politely refuse to tell you any more details—”
“Linesman Andries, I’m afraid that you will. I’m afraid that you will tell me everything.” The little man rose from his chair and glowered at him. Joth stood for a moment, wondering which mage was worse, Uhlmet or Norden? Decidedly Uhlmet, but he admitted to himself that No
rden was a close second. He had been cornered now. He knew that it was time to play his hand and he hoped that Norden bought his story.
“My lord, please. I ask you not to make me break my word with my superiors—”
“You will answer my questions or I shall have the Norandish guards beat the answers from you.”
Joth did his best to look suitably frightened. The truth was that the fellows did not look like much off their horses. Where was bloody Norandia, he wondered? “My lord, please! The girl is a camp follower that our company commander took a fancy to, he included that in the writ so that I could send her home to his mother as the girl has gotten herself in the family way, my lord.”
Norden stepped into him and jabbed a stubby digit at his chin. “You presume to use an airship and prevent my using it because your company commander can’t control his lusty urges? I’ll have you up on charges!”
“I am only following my orders, my lord.”
“Yes, yes. Of course, you are not to blame.” The man turned his back to him and paced back toward the fire and to where his chair stood. “What sort of company expedition was Lord Uhlmet running to allow such broad breaches of conduct? Obviously an ill-fated one, but of course if you start to allow protocol to slip then you’ve lost before it’s even begun. I wouldn’t think of Lord Uhlmet as the type of man to allow camp followers.”
“They are everywhere in the Dawn Tribe lands, my lord, once you make the coastal territories. They were on us like a plague.” Joth was counting on the fact that Norden’s knowledge of the Dawn Tribe Territory was limited, and he could see by the slope shouldered man’s expression that it was. He looked as though he may like to visit that place himself one day. There was something lecherous about the way the man had looked at Eilyth and Ryla Dierns, and Joth suspected that the man had “lusty urges” of his own. He resisted the urge to push the lie further. The mage seemed to have thought about the prospect enough. He sat back down and stared into the fire for a long beat. A rooster crowed. Joth could hear the kitchen staff bustling about behind the bar, preparing breakfast.