by Henry Thomas
The crew was coming out of the forecastle frog march-ing the Norandians onto the deck. Elmund looked at her questioningly.
“Over the bloody sides with them quick, their lancers have formed up!”
Not that charging the airship would avail them much, but it would be easy for six mounted men to overwhelm the vessel before it rose aloft, and all of her boys were wounded except for Bellan. Better to escape now and live to laugh about it.
The Norandishmen screamed through their gags as they were tossed over the sides, and it occurred to her that they most likely had thought themselves at a much higher altitude than head height to a man. The unforgiving ground might have been welcome to them as it punctuated their short descent, but Ryla gave it no more thought as she saw the last of the storm lines fall away and felt the ship rise on the wind. The Norandishmen were riding up the hill as they rose into the sky, and Ryla watched as a rider dismounted and went to the fallen figure of Norden. Others dismounted and saw to their bound and wounded comrades.
She and her crew went to the ship’s rails on the starboard side and let out a victory cry as they flew away, all of them there with Bellan too, cheering exuberantly. They had won. Her plan had worked and they had made it away and thwarted Norden’s scheme, but all of them were hurt now, and Joth and Eilyth were still in peril. Those horsemen could overtake that carriage easily, even with a head start and a coach whip. You did what you could, Ryla told herself, and considering the odds against them she was satisfied. There was only one thing left for them to do.
“Bring her round lads! We’ll keep circling low and jeering at them as long as they’ll have us!” Whatever time they could buy the prisoner’s cart gave Joth and Eilyth a greater chance of slipping behind the walls of Kingsbridge and disappearing. She adjusted the bronze wand at the helm post and sent Skyward into a slight shallow dive as Elmund and the lads hauled on the lines and sent her banking in around the low hill, as high as a town wall might reach if one had stood there, and they circled. Against the rails they jeered at the Norandians, who were in turn yelling back curses in their foreign tongue, but Ryla was watching the clerk on the torchlit ground as he helped his master out of his coat.
Norden was struggling and she saw a glint of metal as the clerk lifted the garment from the mage, searching for his wound. A ring shirt, Ryla knew. Of course he was wearing a bloody ring shirt—he was well prepared, she reminded herself. Bellan’s dagger had still managed to pierce him, as evidenced by the blood she could see, but it was less than fatal, or so it seemed to her. Norden was saying something weakly to his clerk and then the clerk was yelling something out to the horsemen and they broke away from jeering.
“That’s it,” she said to herself first, “That’s it, boys, they’ll not tarry here any longer, let’s make for the town, and keep an eye out for that prisoner’s cart!”
“Aye, lady, aye!” they called back.
She moved the wand and the airship began to climb higher as it circled and gathered speed. Norden and his ring shirt and the lantern light and the Norandian horsemen disappeared below in the distance, and Ryla turned north toward Kingsbridge and the gathering storm beyond. It was almost dawn, and the sun would rise to find the town in flames. They rode the winds northward, and she hoped to find Joth and Eilyth before the storm forced her out of the sky.
Twenty-Seven
I don’t mean you any harm. I’m merely opening this door so that you may escape. Your attackers have all been subdued for the moment, but you must hurry.” The voice spoke to them through the blind door of the jailer’s cart. Joth could hear a key working the lock. He stole a quick look at Eilyth. She stood ready with her staff at her side, calm despite their harrowing last few hours. Joth still had no idea what was happening, only that there had been some kind of an attack on the road, and they had ridden through flames, and there was a flight to the town that jarred their bones and then just moments before they had stopped moving. He had heard fighting, and horses, and then all had been quiet until the man spoke to them through the door. Eilyth peered out cautiously as the door slowly opened and the soft light of the early morning let them see the cloaked man stepping back from the door. He was watching them cautiously, intently; but he was not a Norandishman, and Joth did not get the feeling that he was in league with Norden. The Norandishmen had been screaming at them as they kicked at the door, then the sound of a short fight and they had been silenced.
“Who are you?” Joth asked as he leapt down from the cart. The Norandians were all on the ground, and there was a fire raging in the town. He looked and saw the driver from the inn at Torlucksford laying dead on the stones, his face slack and gray.
“The town’s been attacked, you’d better find shelter.”
Eilyth stepped down and stood beside him. The man took her in, but he did not seem shocked or surprised to see a Dawn Tribe girl before him. Instead, he inclined his head to her and then to Joth.
“Bloody mage tried to kill us again,” Joth muttered to Eilyth. He turned back to the cloaked man. “You did this alone?” Joth was looking around for others but no one was stirring.
“Your driver and his boy, I came to their aid. I was too late.”
Joth saw a dead man with a quarrel sticking through his guts and took the swordbelt that lay next to him. “Do you know the way out of this place?” He asked as he belted the sword around his waist.
The man nodded. “I was going that way when I happened upon your cart.”
Eilyth had studied the man for a long time and he had regarded her quizzically as she watched him, but he did not shrink from her scrutiny. Finally, she spoke. “Let us gather three of their horses and ride together away from this place.”
He looked as though he wanted to say no and refuse her, but as she fixed him with her eyes he seemed to reluctantly decide against it. He simply inclined his head again and turned to gather the reins of a horse that wandered nearby the dead driver. Durn was his name, Joth remembered.
“Fortune wears many guises,” Eilyth said, flashing one of her half smiles. Had she bewitched the man, Joth wondered? Is that what Eilyth did, go around bewitching people to make them do her bidding, you great bloody fool? He knew better. The past day and night had gained him more insight into Eilyth and her power, and compelling people against their wills was not in the nature of what she had shown him. His own perception of other beings, their emotions and energies, these were new and mysterious to him, and somewhat frightening since he lacked any kind of control over it, but it was never about compulsion.
Eilyth called it a “window and a mirror.” She showed things to people through a distant window, and she could redirect energies the way a mirror redirects sunlight, she said. She had shown him how to do something on the journey here from Torlucksford—a simple exercise to focus his mind, focus his thoughts. He felt as though he was getting the gist of it, as though he could clear his mind of peripheral thoughts and concentrate on focusing, but it felt somehow forced and he grew impatient often as he lost the ability to concentrate and became distracted by a bump in the road or a creak in the cart.
He needed time to understand things, she had told him. being able to focus was the first step. He would love to have an opportunity to sit and close his eyes now, but the town was up in smoke all around him. Most of the Norandian’s mounts were standing near their fallen riders. Joth had caught two horses and he saw two of the Norandishmen stirring, one of them struggling to find his feet.
“Help me,” Joth called out.
The man who had opened the door handed his horse off to Eilyth, and Joth saw her regard the stirrups queerly. He made his way to Joth and together they dragged the Norandishmen to the jailer’s cart and loaded them inside. The man took the key and locked the door. They’ll have plenty of fine food in there when they come to, Joth thought. The man gathered a swordbelt from those they had collected and belted it on next to his long knife with a qui
zzical expression on his face.
“You all right?” Joth asked the man.
“Yes,” he said as he broke from his reverie, then he fixed Joth with a steady eye. “We must be swift now.” The man moved to the horse and mounted up smoothly. He frowned. “These horses are nearly spent.”
Eilyth had mounted and was sitting and standing in her stirrups testingly, regarding them as though they may break at any moment. She held her staff across her lap. Her stirrups looked a bit long, but there was no time for him to fix them. She had never ridden in stirrups before, Joth would wager all his silver on it. Joth mounted the tall bay horse. “There are more of those Norandishmen out there, remember.”
“Right. Follow me and stay close. If there’s trouble, follow my lead.” The man set his horse off at a slow canter down the street. Eilyth looked at him for a moment, as though she were weighing the choice, and then turned her horse and followed after the cloaked man who had rescued them. He would ride between them, should this be some sort of ploy and this man prove false. But Eilyth seemed to trust him enough, and truth be told, so did he somehow. He could not quite explain it, but the man had a trustworthiness about him. He hoped that he did not prove him wrong as they rode out along the street amidst a seemingly abandoned, smoldering town. It was dangerous being here, a fire was raging and there was no one there to put it out, or even curtail it to any degree.
Joth looked to Eilyth as she rode, staff clutched across her chest with one hand and her reins in the other.
She glanced down at her stirrups a few times before she caught him looking at her. “Everything is good now, Joth. You need not worry.”
“If it please you, lady, I’ll decide when I can stop worrying.”
She smiled and continued to keep watch all about her as they rode. He did not bother to ask any further. The mounts were spent. Joth’s horse stumbled often as they clattered down the cobbled street and the low wall and gatehouse came into view ahead. The walls looked abandoned, but Joth could not quite tell—there could be soldiers within the stone gatehouse or its two squat towers.
“Is this the only way out?” Joth asked.
“Yes. I don’t like it either.” The man looked at them both. “But unless you fancy a swim, this is the way out.”
“We can make it. The horses will carry us,” Eilyth decided.
“Let’s ride for all these mounts are worth,” the man said gravely.
Joth nodded. “No harm must befall the Lady Eilyth.”
“None shall, if we are swift.” The man galloped away.
Joth urged his mount up into as near a run as he could summon from the beleaguered animal and made for the gate with Eilyth and the man, the three of them matched for speed and riding abreast down the road. As they thundered through the arched gateway that stood below the gatehouse, Joth half expected to be shot through by a quarrel, but the gatehouse must have been abandoned by the town guard when the fire spread through the buildings here. When they had made it through the gate and were outside the walls, the sun was shining palely and Joth looked back and saw that the gatehouse itself had been set ablaze. The entire outer face was a smoldering, blackened mess. The man urged them on, even though their mounts were spent they kept up pace with him and only slowed once they had come to a copse of trees on a low hill east of the road. They were moving at a walk now, letting the horses rest, when Eilyth called out to them and pointed over the road to the top of the hill.
Joth looked and muttered a curse. He could make out the sallets of the Norandian guards, and he saw that Mage Norden and his clerk were there amidst them standing around two strange-looking machines.
“We can’t risk being spotted by them!” he said, “We shall have to double back and skirt the walls around the other way.”
The man was studying the machines at the hilltop intently. “There’s no way around Kingsbridge for miles. The rivers. One has to go through the town to cross the river.” He said it distractedly as he watched the Norandians and the mage shuffle around the hilltop. He was shaking his head. “I can’t fathom it,” he muttered.
“Well, it’s no good here, and we can’t make a run for it on these mounts. Let’s at the least get away from where they might see us.”
“I have an idea,” Eilyth said lowly from behind them.
They turned and followed her eyes as she looked off into the sky. It took him a moment, but there in the distance was an airship. Even at this distance he could make out Skyward’s brightly painted hull and striped mainsail, and he knew Ryla Dierns had gotten his message, that Bellan had followed through and made it safely back to Grannock. At this, he could not keep himself from smiling. “We’ll have to get her attention,” Joth said.
The man looked confused. “An airship?”
“A friend. She will get us aboard and away.” Eilyth was looking at the man. “You want to run? Where will you run to?”
“You know me?” The man asked it sternly.
“I do not need to know who you are to see you.” Eilyth’s gaze was unwavering.
“Eilyth what are you—?” Joth started to ask, but she pressed on.
“I can see you running and running. When will you stop?”
The man looked at her for a very long uncomfortable moment. He looked away and out over the road where Norden and his henchmen stood atop the hill for a moment and then he fixed her with his piercing eyes. “We strike out over the plain there.” He pointed. “That’s the best place to land an airship, and it will be hard for them to be on us before we are away.”
Eilyth nodded, and then she smiled at the man. He looked surprised at himself, but he covered it quickly. “Let’s ride,” he said.
The Norandians spotted them almost immediately, but they were all of them afoot, and they could not hope to catch up to them even if their mounts were spent. Eilyth rode out ahead across the plain and Joth followed her, the three of them riding abreast again. When Joth chanced to look back he saw all the Norandians running for them with their swords drawn, but they were so far away that their chances of catching them seemed nigh impossible to him. Ryla Dierns had seen them and had brought the airship down low, dragging it to a stop in the distance.
The Skyward was resting on the plain, hovering a few ells above the green turf, and Joth could see Elmund and Galt hurriedly throwing out the gangplanks and the captain shouting out orders as he rode toward them. His horse was stumbling but he urged it on over the last low hill and across the broad sweeping plain. Eilyth dismounted first.
They removed the saddles and bridles from the horses and cut the girth straps so that they could not be used. Horses could not catch them, but they could be used to help speed word, and any help to their foe was a hindrance to them. Better to ruin a few girth straps, Joth thought. The horses began grazing on the turf between them and the Norandishmen.
“Let’s away before those boys get here!” Ryla cried from the helm. Eilyth was already up the gangway. Joth nodded to the man wrapped in the cloak and they turned away from the advancing soldiers and boarded the airship together. Once they were aboard, Elmund and Galt drew in the gangplanks and set about their tasks as the captain ordered them, and Joth saw that they were all wounded and moving stiffly. As he turned around, he was surprised to find Bellan.
“Bellan?”
“Master.” He inclined his head awkwardly. “You’re wondering why I’m here?”
“I’m sure you’ll have a good story for me. I’m glad you made it safely, lad.”
The boy smiled at him, then turned as Ryla Dierns shouted something out and he cried, “Aye lady, aye! I’ve to get below, now.” And he sprinted off.
Joth could feel the airship rising and he looked out and saw that the advancing soldiers had halted and given up, seeing the futility in trying to reach them. They stood there in the distance cursing and catching their breath. Joth watched as they grew smaller and s
maller and Kingsbridge fell off behind them smoldering beneath the clouds as they climbed higher and banked eastward and flew toward the pale sun. To the north, storm clouds rolled in a steep dark bank, but to the east the weather looked fine. Joth felt exhaustion wash over him in a wave. It was growing cold.
“You all should get below!” the captain called out.
He looked to Eilyth and she followed him to the forecastle and came below with him and the cloaked man. Kipren was there with Bellan and they had laid out a table with cheese and apples and some smoked meats and crusty bread. They had a cask of ale opened and were filling some mugs when Joth came down.
“Hungry for breakfast? I ain’t slept in so long sun-up feels like sundown and everything the other way round, if you take my meaning.”
“It’s a strange breakfast, but I’ve had stranger,” Kipren chimed in. They sat and ate and drank. It was warmer in the hold than it was on deck, but it was still cold. The ale tasted good and the food even better. He was halfway through a small round loaf when Galt and Elmund came down the ladder followed by Ryla Dierns.
They were moving stiffly, all of them. Joth could see now a purplish bruise on the captain’s neck that stretched from her jaw to her shoulder. Eilyth stood and embraced the woman immediately. “Thank you, Captain.”
She flinched but she smiled warmly. “Shiny and Pretty, back underway at last.” The captain looked at her crew and then back at them for a beat. “Looks as though we got the rough end of the stick.”
They all came forward and took up cups of ale and began to eat. Ryla drained her cup and held it out to be refilled. “I’ve not yet met your traveling companion,” she said, turning to the man in the cloak and began. “I’m Ryla Dierns, Captain of the—”