The Jackal of Nar

by John Marco

  The days passed quickly. Seven weeks after leaving Aramoor behind, they reached the port city of Karva. From here they would follow the coast south to Nar, a ride of perhaps six more days, according to Patwin. But they stopped in Karva for a time, for they were making good progress despite their leisurely pace. Karva was a small, salt-stained merchant city, old and decrepit and more than willing to take the gold of weary travelers. It was night when they reached the city. A cold rain had just begun to fall. It was the beginning of a storm that lasted three days, and so they spent their time in Karva gambling and sleeping and stuffing themselves in Karva's bakeries. When at last the storm abated, they rode out of the port city on a road that was flooded and muddied by the rains. They had four days left to reach Nar.

  "Four days until you're made king," said Patwin to a melancholy Richius. "Excited?"

  "A little," said Richius, looking up into the gray sky. The rains had gone, but clouds still canopied the horizon. "I just hope we make it. We still have a long way to go."

  "Not as far as you think," said Patwin with a chuckle. He leaned in his saddle a little closer to Richius. Ennadon, Barret, and Gilliam were several paces behind them. "I knew the others wouldn't be able to pass up the taverns of Karva so easily, so I exaggerated the time a bit." He smiled. "We should be in Nar in three days."

  Richius stared in amazement at Patwin. "Three days? Are you sure?"

  "I can show you the maps if you like," said Patwin. Then he sighed, saying, "But no, you wouldn't be interested in my maps, would you?"

  Richius couldn't help but laugh. Since leaving Aramoor only Patwin had been truly concerned with the roads, poring over his maps each night to make sure they selected the best route in the morning. The others had made sport of Patwin's studious interest, gibing him that a real Guardsman could find his way with only the sun and stars to guide him. Now, it seemed, it was Patwin who was laughing.

  "Lord, Patwin, you know how worried I was. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You've been known to stay in a beer house too long yourself, my friend. This way I could be certain we'd make it. It's a good thing I did lie about it, too, what with all the rain we've had."

  "We'll still need to keep up a good pace," said Richius, glancing down into the churned-up soil of the roadway. His horse's hooves were caked with soggy earth. "It's going to be slow going in this mud. I just hope none of the roads are flooded."

  An hour later, they discovered to their dismay that the roads were indeed flooded. The rains that had forced them to enjoy Karva's hospitality had been worse in some parts than in others, and even the wide Naren highway they were following had turned into a bog. The floods slowed their progress to a crawl.

  "Damn," said Ennadon. "We'll have to rest the horses soon. This muck is tiring them too quickly."

  Richius reluctantly agreed. It was well past noon now and they had hardly gone a fraction of the distance he had hoped to cover. But the labored breathing of his horse told him that Ennadon was right and he reined his mount to a stop, thankful that they were out of the thick woods they had traversed that morning. At least here the roadside afforded them room to rest. But just as he brought his horse to a halt, Richius heard something in the distance. He cocked his head to listen, raising his hand to halt his party.

  "Shhh," he said. "Listen. Do you hear something?"

  Each man inclined his ear to listen, and all at once they heard the distinct sound of a whinnying horse. Punctuated between the strains was the equally discordant sound of a man swearing.

  "Well," said Barret. "It sounds like we're not the only ones stupid enough to be riding in this swamp."

  "Whoever he is, it sounds like he's in trouble," added Patwin.

  "Probably stuck," said Richius. "We should help if we can."

  In a few moments they rounded a bend and found a carriage, its tall, spoked wheels stuck fast in the mud. The carriage driver was yelling at his team, a weary-looking pair of horses that seemed about to drop from exhaustion. He made good use of his whip as he swore at them.

  "You there!" cried Richius angrily. "Easy on that whip, fellow! You're not going to get out that way!"

  The carriage driver turned, obviously startled by the unexpected order. Then, from within the shadowy recesses of the carriage, Richius caught a glimmer of blond hair. The glimmer became a striking yellow mane as a young woman poked her head out of the carriage window.

  "Oh!" she cried excitedly, waving at them as they approached. "Could you please help us? We're stuck and can't get out!"

  A low murmur passed between the men as they sighted the girl. Even from a distance she was beautiful. Like the carriage she rode in she was unspeakably elegant, her shoulders draped in a richly brocaded dress of scarlet. Two stout hoops of gold hung loosely from her ears, and around her neck dangled a pendant of azure gems. She was very young, perhaps no more than sixteen, yet she still looked every bit a woman in her expensive ensemble. Richius glanced at the carriage, hoping to notice a banner or insignia that marked it. Yet if there was one, it was splattered with mud and invisible. Still, he already knew one thing for certain--she was a lady. He waved back, trying not to smile too broadly.

  "We'll help you," Richius said. "Tell your man to stop beating those horses!"

  The man sat up indignantly. "I know what I'm doing." His voice cracked with a harsh northern accent. But the girl pulled herself further out of the carriage, and in a low, deliberate tone ordered the man to lower his whip. The man did so, muttering.

  "Damn fool," Ennadon hissed. "He'll kill those beasts before he gets that carriage out."

  "It's a good thing we showed up when we did," said Richius. "Patwin, we'll need a rope. Any chance that you packed one along with all those maps?"

  Patwin shook his head. "Sorry, Richius. I didn't think we'd need one."

  "I've got a rope," the surly driver called. "This isn't the first time I've gotten stuck. I knew these damn southern roads would be a nuisance."

  "Good," answered Richius, relieved that they would not have to push the vehicle out of the mud themselves. The carriage looked to be at least three feet under, deep enough to get a man well soiled. "We'll tie the saddle rings together. Between all our horses we should be able to get you out." Richius glanced over at the girl in the carriage. "Don't fret, my lady. We'll get you along safely."

  "Thank you so much," she said. "You don't know what trouble we've had trying to get out. Why, it's probably been near an hour."

  "Not much longer," said Richius. "But first we've got to get you out of there. The less weight we have to pull, the easier it'll be to get the carriage out. Do you think you can open that door?"

  The girl looked down thoughtfully at the mud and grimaced.

  "Don't worry," said Richius quickly. "I'll bring my horse over to you. All you'll have to do is slide on. All right?"

  "All right," she responded dubiously. Richius smiled. She was obviously unaccustomed to getting dirty. He would do what he could to spare her that misery. The driver, who had been fumbling with a chest behind his seat, now stood up and tossed a long coil of rope to Richius. The rope was oily and ragged, obviously used many times before. Richius tested its strength with a snap before deciding it would do. He handed the coil to Patwin.

  "Start getting the horses tethered together, Patwin," he said. "Use the cantle rings on the saddles to bind them to the carriage riggings."

  Patwin took the rope and tossed one end of it back to the carriage driver. "Do you think you can reach the riggings?" he asked.

  "I can do it," the man rumbled. While he began to secure the rope to his carriage, Richius trotted his horse into the mud. At once the hooves disappeared, and in two more paces half the gelding's legs were mired. He gently coaxed the horse over to the side of the carriage where the girl awaited him, her knuckles white as she clung to the small door of the vehicle.

  "Hold on," said Richius. "Not much further."

  "I don't know how to ride a horse," she said nervously.
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br />   "All you have to do is hold on," said Richius. "Leave the riding to me."

  After a moment he had reached her, his horse's legs well buried in the sticky ooze. He put out his hand.

  "Easy," he said. "Just slide on."

  The woman took Richius' hand, breathed deeply, then let go of the door. Richius grabbed her firmly around the waist and slid her onto the horse in front of him, sidesaddle.

  "I have you," he assured her. "Don't be nervous."

  Once upon the horse the young woman's face relaxed and she smiled broadly at Richius. He noticed at once what a perfect smile she had. He could smell her heady perfume, feel the firm ripeness of her body beneath the scarlet dress. Carefully, he adjusted his grip, making sure he neither crushed her nor let her slip from the horse.

  "Thank you," she said lightly. Like her driver, her voice had the pronounced brogue of the northern lands. "I was afraid we'd never get out."

  "It seems the roads around Karva aren't as good as the others in Nar," said Richius as he steered them out of the bog. "But you're not from around here, are you?"

  "Oh, my," said the girl sheepishly. "Is my accent so plain?"

  "A little," admitted Richius. "You're from Criisia, maybe?"

  "From Gorkney," she corrected. "We were on our way to Nar City when we fell into this hole."

  "Nar? Then we are traveling the same way, my lady. We too are heading to the Black City."

  "Are you going for the coronation?" she asked. , Richius laughed. "Oh, yes," he said. "We will be there. The emperor has said we are to be his special guests."

  "Ooohh, how wonderful! Are you coming from very far?"

  "Indeed, my lady. From almost as far away as you yourself. We're from Aramoor."

  "Aramoor? Then it is your prince I go to see crowned king. Tell me of him, please. Do you know him?"

  "I do," said Richius. "For you see, my lady, I am he."

  The girl's face did a remarkable trick of contortion. "You're Prince Richius?"

  "Soon to be King Richius, I fear. And may I ask who you are, my lady? You're obviously of royal blood, yes?"

  The girl didn't answer. She sat transfixed, scrutinizing Richius.

  "My lady?" Richius prodded. "Is there some trouble?"

  "No," she said at last. "Forgive me. I was considering something." She looked away from him, catching her breath. "This is awkward for me. To be rescued from a mud pit by a king is, well, embarrassing."

  "It's your driver who should be ashamed, my lady, not you. He shouldn't have had you out on such roads. But may I at least know the name of the woman I've rescued? I must be able to brag properly."

  She smiled again. "I am Sabrina, daughter of the duke of Gorkney."

  "Well then, Lady Sabrina, it is an honor to meet you. I'm pleased you've come so far just for my king-making. But did you come all this way by yourself? Where are your guardians?"

  She laughed, and Richius could feel her relax. "Gorkney has no Guardsmen, my lord. We are too small for that. Have you never been there? Aramoor is not so far from Gorkney, you know."

  "I have never been there," said Richius. He had just about taken her all the way out of the bog. "But I have heard that it is quite beautiful."

  The girl looked away, a pensive shade drawing over her face. "Yes, very beautiful," she said sadly. "More beautiful than any of the lands I have had to ride through to get here." She smiled at Richius with a visible effort. "Perhaps one day you will see it for yourself."

  "I would like that," replied Richius. They were out of the mud completely now. Patwin had already rigged the other horses to the carriage and was waiting for Richius to join them. Reluctantly Richius lowered the Lady Sabrina to the ground, in a place not too muddy for her fine shoes. She let her hand linger a moment in his before letting go.

  "Thank you," she said. "You are very kind."

  "It was my pleasure."

  He turned from her and steered his horse toward Patwin, who quickly tied the last bit of rope to the ring on his saddle's cantle. When they were both satisfied that the knots that bound them all together were sound, Richius signaled to the carriage driver.

  "Are you ready?"

  "Yes," said the man, taking hold of his reins again. "Not too fast, now."

  "We'll take it slow," answered Richius. He waited for each of his men to signal their readiness. Gilliam, the first man on the rope, gave him a curt nod.

  "All right then," said Richius. They each gave their horses a gentle nudge, and almost effortlessly the carriage began to move out of the mud.

  "It's coming!" said the carriage driver. "Give it a little more and she' be out."

  Richius gave his horse an encouraging nudge. The horse obeyed, digging its hooves deeper into the soft earth. Finally the carriage creaked and broke free, rolling out of the mud. Lady Sabrina gave a happy cheer.

  "You did it!" she cried, rushing over to Richius.

  "Good work," said Richius over his shoulder. "Patwin, would you untie us, please?"

  Patwin gave Richius a playful wink. Sabrina was looking up at Richius with plain adoration.

  "Thank you, my lord. You have truly saved us."

  "It was a simple thing, my lady," said Richius. "But you really must take better care. Why do you travel alone? You should have an escort."

  The girl dismissed the idea with a wave. "Until today we've traveled without mishap. We will be fine until we reach the Black City."

  "It isn't safe," said Richius, unconvinced. "We will accompany you the rest of the way."

  "No," said the girl. "It wouldn't be..." she stopped, correcting herself. "It won't be necessary. Dason, my driver, looks after me well enough. He will see me safely to Nar."

  "I would feel better if there were others with you. It's no trouble for us, really."

  She smiled. "It's a generous offer," she said, reaching out to take his hand. "But do not worry about me. We will meet again. Go on your way. I will be well."

  "Are you certain?" he asked. "It's no bother at all."

  "There's no need for it," she assured him. "I am cared for, and we are close enough to Nar now not to be concerned."

  "Very well," Richius conceded. "But your horses need rest badly. Will you at least see that they get it?"

  She nodded. "I will make sure of it. Thank you, Richius of Aramoor. And remember my promise. We will meet again."

  Richius bowed his head. "I look forward to it:"

  The girl curtsied, gave a small, secretive giggle, then turned and walked back to her carriage. She opened the carriage door and quickly disappeared into its dark recesses. The carriage driver waved at them, more in obligation than in friendship.

  "Thanks for your aid," he said brusquely before he turned his back on them. He gave the reins another snap and was soon on the move, bearing away the Lady Sabrina of Gorkney.

  Progress came slowly the rest of that day, but a bright sunrise the next morning dried up the last of the floods and had them moving quickly again. The promise of Nar's opulent hospitality drove them onward. Finally, at dusk of the second day out of Karva, they came to the hills of Locwala.

  Night was wrapping its shadowy fingers around the earth, and the sun burned a hazy salmon in the western sky. The hills of Locwala were silent, but the air carried the unmistakable scent of the city. It wasn't the pungent smell of horse farms or the brackish odor of seaports. Rather it was the smell of a mystery and a fabled place. Smoky and metallic, it hung in the evening like the odor of a blacksmith's shop. And as he rode Richius thought about the city just beyond the hills. How enormous must it be, he wondered, that he should smell it here in the pristine stillness of a forest?

  Tomorrow was the thirtieth day of winter.

  He rode silently ahead of his men, leading them quickly along the narrow roadway. Something akin to a yearning blazed within him, for he knew that every hill might finally unveil the city he had traveled so long to reach. When at last he came to a tor with a strange glow behind it, he was suddenly sure that Nar was
now only as far as an outstretched arm. Deliberately he slowed his horse. Patwin stopped beside him. They stared at the glow for a long, ponderous moment.

  "We're here," Richius whispered.

  Patwin sighed contentedly. "You go ahead," he said. "You should be the first."

  Without a word Richius trotted his horse up the hill, and as he climbed the slope all the tales he had heard of Nar came alive in his memory. He would finally see which of them were true, and the thought made his hands tremble. Even his father had never been to Nar. He would be the first Vantran ever to look upon the works of Arkus. Slowly he crested the hill and Nar the Magnificent came into view, making the breath catch in his throat. A pale whisper passed his lips.

  "Holy God..."

  He had reached the Black City at last.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A machine. That's what Nar was, Richius decided. A vast, staggering machine. He toyed distractedly with the knot of his sash as he rolled the notion over in his mind. Jibben, the house slave Biagio had assigned him, had given him the vermilion sash to wear at the ceremony. It looked striking against his pitch-colored uniform, but it was made of silk and the slippery fabric caused the knot to untie itself whenever he moved too abruptly. If there was a trick to tying a sash, he had never learned it.

  He had heard that Nar was big, but never had he imagined anything quite so gigantic. Nor had the tales of Naren architecture accurately described the countless looming spires that dotted the city like stars on a winter night. The towers of Aramoor Castle were dwarves beside these giants. Hands reaching from a graveyard, that's what Barret had called them. Not even the Iron Mountains seemed so high.