Bastion

by Mercedes Lackey

  On the other hand, that blizzard had been very useful to him. That was when he’d first really used his Mindspeaking Gift and had found out how powerful it was. With people scattered among all the buildings on the Hill, and no way to effectively and quickly communicate with them, there was no way to tell whether everyone had made it into safety. He’d volunteered to “look” for people who might have gotten trapped between buildings up on the Hill, for there was always the possibility that some of them had not realized how powerful and deadly the storm was until it was too late. He’d found five people that way, with Dallen’s help. It had been easy, really, easier than raising shields in the first place had been.

  And that was when the true scope of his power had been uncovered. He, it seemed, could Mindspeak to anyone and Mindhear anyone. That was, so they kept telling him, incredibly rare.

  That was also how he had found Bear when the assassins kidnapped the Healer.

  They hadn’t come there—in disguise as envoys—for that purpose, of course. No one had any idea there was such a thing as an entire clan of killers, killers who wore some sort of talisman that both guarded them from Mind-magic and would murder them if it thought they had been caught.

  All anyone knew was that they came from somewhere no Valdemaran was even remotely familiar with.

  He knew now that they had all taken a contract from Karse to disrupt or even cause the overthrow of the Valdemaran monarchy, but no one had known that at the time. All that was certain was that they had come to spy and perhaps make trouble; but more by accident than design, he and some of the other Trainees had managed to uncover the fact that they were frauds and scare them out.

  He also knew now why the assassins had taken that contract in the first place—it helped them finance their quest to try to find Mags’ parents. Mags’ foreign parents, who had been murdered by the same bandit band that had lived for so long in The Bastion. Mags’ parents, who, it seemed had been members of the assassin clan and had fled so fast and so far that even the best of their kind hadn’t been able to stop them.

  The assassins hadn’t actually been looking for Mags. They hadn’t known Mags existed, and the first lot hadn’t recognized him at all. But the one who had been sent to help get them out when they were exposed and who had kidnapped Bear certainly had. . . .

  Mags would never forget that moment.

  Mags stepped into the light, his hand clutching his sword hilt.

  The thin, dark-haired man dressed in strange, dark clothing stared at him.

  “Not YOU!” he screamed. “YOU are not supposed to be here!”

  He would probably see that moment in nightmares for the rest of his life.

  :You might want to concentrate on the nightmare closing in on us.:

  Mags looked back over his shoulder. There was definitely more black cloud back there, and that didn’t bode well. It seemed cruel that ahead of them was a bright, sunny, nearly cloudless sky.

  :Dallen, keep me from fallin’ off. I gotta try to warn the others.:

  He didn’t wait for an answer; he dropped all of his shields, which was safe enough out here, where there was nothing but birds and beasts and—

  Wait. Woodcutter. The man was intent on the tree he was chopping down; wise, since when a woodcutter’s mind was on other things, bad accidents often happened. Mags concentrated as hard as he could. :BLIZZARD!: he “shouted” into the man’s mind, timing his warning for the moment when the ax blade would actually strike the tree. Let’s not make things worse by choppin’ his foot off!

  He sensed the fellow jump; the ax lodged in the tree and stuck there. The man looked up and spotted the ominous clouds. The first thing that leaped into the man’s mind was relief that his cottage was not far away. The second was to get his ax out so he could run for its safe walls.

  Good. Mags left his mind behind.

  He found two more people out in the woods, a hunter and a trapper. He managed to alert both of them before moving on. He hoped they would get to shelter, though he probably would never know for certain, since neither of them had a destination in mind when he pulled his thoughts away from them. But they had a better chance now than they had before he’d found them.

  At last, he found Amily and the rest. With a surer touch now than he’d had when he’d first tried to talk to her this way, he didn’t so much shove his way into her thoughts, the way he’d done with the three strangers, as he slipped into them, a welcome guest instead of an interloper. :Amily! Blizzard behind you!: he Sent urgently.

  :What?: he Heard—and it was almost exactly like a deliberate Sending. Then :Oh, gods! Don’t worry, we’re not that far, and we’ll run for it!:

  He could have cheered at the clarity and strength of her thoughts, except he had other things to think about right at that moment.

  It was going to be easier, for him at least, to Send to Jakyr than to try to shout over the pounding hoofs of the Companions. He crouched farther down against Dallen’s neck and closed his eyes. :I warned the others,: he Sent.

  :Good,: came the labored response. :I think we’ll make it, but the storm will catch us before we get there. This is going to be a near thing.:

  :Just get us there,: he replied. :You an’ Jermayan know yer way around woods better’n me. We’ll follow you. Just don’t lose the track when it hits!:

  As they pounded along the track, Mags began to wonder if waiting for that steak-and-kidney pie for luncheon was going to prove to be the mistake that cost them dearly.

  Maybe it would have been better to ask for the sausages in rolls and eat in the saddle.

  Well, too late now to undo that mistake. And hindsight was always crystal clear.

  He kept shooting glances over his shoulder, and the view didn’t get any better when he did. The clouds boiled up behind them, still charcoal-gray, still closer every time he looked. The wind picked up behind them, colder and damper, cutting through the cloak and making him wish Lydia had got one lined with sheepskin instead of fur. Ahead of them, the trees swayed, and the wind moaned in the branches.

  It seemed they had been running forever, with the menace coming on fast behind them, and the landscape never varying. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were running in circles, except that you could still see the clear track passing through the trees ahead of them, with the hoofprints of the vanners clear in the damp earth and moss, huge horseshoe shapes squashing leaves into the mud.

  He fell into a kind of trance, concentrating on making himself the least burden to Dallen he could, using every muscle in his body to stay in perfect rhythm with the Companion. Were they closer now? They’d been running flat out for a couple of candlemarks or more, and he knew that Companions could achieve incredible speed for very long periods of time. They’d have been about four to six candlemarks away at a simple lope when he first noticed the storm. How far at a gallop? He actually didn’t want to look down, because he knew that the ground would be going past at a rate that would make him dizzy.

  Now he could hear the wind and the storm howling behind them, and the branches of the trees ahead of them and around them lashed the sky as the wind strengthened ahead of the blizzard. The clouds were right overhead, like a shelf of rock overhanging them.

  How far away from the caves were they now? He didn’t recognize anything around them, but then again, there weren’t really any landmarks out here.

  The storm pounced on them.

  Suddenly they were enveloped in streaming curtains of snow, carried on a bitter, bitter wind. He felt Dallen gasp as it hit them, felt him put in extra effort. All he could do was hold on and close his eyes, trying to lend his strength to his Companion and praying with all his might that Dallen wouldn’t trip or stumble into a hole. It had been one thing to run at a full gallop when the track had been clear—but now?

  And then, suddenly, the wind stopped, and Dallen stumbled a little into a walk.

  He opened his eyes.

  They were in the cleft in the rocks that led into
The Bastion. They were safe!

  He almost fell off with relief.

  They came through the cleft into the pocket valley, and now into snow falling mostly straight down. And there was a lot of it. Already it was hoof deep here.

  The hills cut the wind but not the snow; it was coming down so hard that it was like being in a thick fog, and despite the fact that it was barely midafternoon, it was as dark as thick dusk. But there were two lights burning through the white, about where the cave entrance should be, and Mags knew that the others had put lanterns out there to guide them in.

  :Feel your way. Walk slow,: he told Dallen sternly. :Don’t need to have run all that way only to break an ankle now! In fact, I’ll get off and help. You just follow me, right on my heels.:

  He slid off Dallen’s back before the Companion could object. Jakyr looked at him oddly through snow coming down so thickly it almost obscured his face, then did the same. Mags took the lead, walking slowly, shuffling through the snow to find any dangerous spots. Dallen walked directly behind him, in his footsteps, Jakyr in Dallen’s, and Jermayan’s in Jakyr’s, as the best way to find a safe path. The floor of the valley was littered with stones, the odd branch, little depressions. Those were not a problem when the ground was clear, but now—step on the wrong thing and a sprained ankle or hock could be the best outcome. Dallen had already suffered one broken leg thanks to Mags; Mags was not going to let him suffer another.

  The cave entrance had never looked so welcoming. When they reached it, Dallen and Jermayan paused to shake off snow that had already managed to build up a good two fingers deep on their saddles, necks and haunches, then trotted down into the stabling area. Mags and Jakyr each took a lantern from the front of the cave and headed into air that felt almost summerlike in comparison with the white hell outside.

  Amily came flying out of the darkness and caught Mags by surprise in a frantic embrace. He managed to keep her from burning herself on the lantern only by a last-moment maneuver that put it over their heads. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to; Mags understood all too well just how frantic and worried she had been. He had been pretty frantic and worried himself!

  When they were done kissing—which in itself was very warming and welcome—they held hands and followed Jakyr down to the blessed light and further warmth of the central area. Lita, Lena, and Bear were already seeing to it that Dallen and Jermayan were rubbed down, blanketed, watered, and fed. The vanners were drowsing, blanketed, and content.

  Mags caught a glorious aroma and peered into the light around the kitchen. There was a tray of pocket pies warming on the top of the stove, which was a very welcome sight indeed. Mags suddenly realized he was absolutely famished.

  From the way Dallen and Jermayan were head down in the grain buckets, they were famished too. Not surprising considering how fast and hard they had run.

  He took off his cloak, shook it out vigorously and tossed it over a storage chest to dry, then sank down on the rugs nearest the fire. Jakyr did the same opposite him, and he wondered if he looked as dull-tired as his mentor did. Amily brought him a warmed pie and a mug of hot tea, and he murmured thanks. Lita did the same for Jakyr, and to Mags’ shock, all Jakyr said was, “Bless you.”

  But he couldn’t dwell on that when he was ready to eat his own hand. He bit into the pie, and either it was the equal of those godly pies at that inn Jakyr had first taken him to, or else hunger made it seem so. He ate it down to the last crumb, just as Amily brought him another with an understanding grin. Only after he had finished a third did it feel as if the gnawing monster in his belly had been appeased, and he leaned back into the cushion and put an arm around Amily and let the heat from the fire soak into him.

  “I think we are going to be here for a while,” Lita said into the silence. “There was a weather-witch back at the town who said we were about to get snowed in hard, here in The Bastion, with several storms, one after the other. I wish I’d paid more attention to her.”

  “Well, why didn’t you?” Lena asked. Then proving it was a completely rhetorical question, continued, “You didn’t, because the mayor said she never predicted anything but terrible weather for The Bastion.”

  “I should have asked if, when she predicted terrible weather, the weather actually came,” Lita replied with a shrug. “But I suppose if they never came out to The Bastion, they’d never know for sure. If we can’t break through at the entrance, we’re going to have to slowly dig our way out or wait until we get a thaw.”

  “This might be the reason why this Circuit is so hard to run,” Jakyr observed wearily. “If Heralds get snowed in that often, they aren’t going to see the villages as often as they should, and we got what—” he waved a tired hand “—we got. Unruly, surly, and resentful.”

  “It’s as good a theory as any,” Lita agreed. “I’m thinking this Circuit should be divided into smaller ones. And I need to get more Bards out here. There’s nothing to persuade people that they need Heralds quite like flinging the Vanyel cycle at them until they are sick of hearing it.”

  Jakyr gave her an odd look. “What?” she asked, defensively. “I don’t hate Heralds. I like Mags. I like Caelen. I even like Marion.”

  Jakyr rolled his eyes a little, but he managed not to make a sharp retort. Instead, he turned to Mags. “This might give you an opportunity to see if there is any sign left at all of your parents,” he said. “Our friend Milles marked the two caves that had been the bandit treasury and the area where the captives were kept. They are quite clearly picked out on the map. You probably won’t find anything, but you never know.”

  They had had so many other things to worry about that the possibility of looking for some piece of his past had entirely slipped his mind. But if they were going to be snowed in here for a while, that was as good a task as any. “I think that’s a good idea, Mags,” Amily agreed, nodding slightly. “That’s why Caelen sent you out here in the first place. At least even if you don’t find anything, you won’t be tormented by wondering if you might have if you’d just looked.”

  He smiled, and hugged her. “Well then, reckon I will,” he said. “But not till the storm clears. We don’t need nobody lost in it.”

  “No, we don’t,” Lita agreed. “It was a near enough thing with you two as it was.”

  • • •

  Bear had kindly gone around to everyone’s bed and left a hot stone in each to warm them before sleep. Jakyr went to bed first, complaining about old bones and storms. Lita yawned hugely and left shortly after. Lena and Bear cleaned up the little there was to clean from a dinner of pocket pies, and slipped off to the caravan. That left Mags and Amily alone.

  “How come,” he said aloud, “it was Dallen doin’ all the work, but I feel like I was doin’ the running?”

  She groaned a little. “Because you were, sort of, you just don’t think about it anymore. Remember when you first learned to ride, how sore you were? Riding uses an awful lot of muscles, love, and just because you know how to ride and you don’t hurt anymore, that doesn’t mean you aren’t still using them.” She made a face. “That’s what happens when you play at being a Healer’s assistant. After a while you stop playing, and you realize you are a Healer’s assistant.”

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “Like isn’t the right word, really,” she said after a long moment of thought. “Some of it is pretty horrid. Wounds and things are nasty. People sicking up in buckets is nasty. But I feel useful. I suppose I would rather be doing something that wasn’t so nasty but I like feeling useful.”

  “You’re braver’n I am,” he said honestly. “I allus hated helping Bear out. It’s strange, but I can kill an animal and butcher it, no problem. I can kill a man if I have to, and it’ll make me sick to do it, but I can do it. But when I gotta change a dressing on a wound, or worse, a burn—” he shuddered. “Just makes me go all collywobbles inside. I think Healers are the bravest people ever.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t think Bear wou
ld argue about that. He gets quite cross when some great big man rears back and acts like a coddled highborn confronting a mouse when Bear starts to tell him how he’ll have to take care of his own wound or nurse a sick child. And he laughs when they faint at the sight of their own blood.”

  Mags laughed aloud. “Not to their faces, I hope.”

  “He’s been tempted.” She snuggled into his shoulder and sighed. “It’s nice here. I don’t want to get up. But the longer we stay here, the colder that stone in our bed gets.”

  Our bed. He loved the sound of that. “Well, then,” he said. “Let’s go get it out and take its place.”

  • • •

  The blizzard lasted three days, just like the one that had snowed Haven in completely, all those years ago. He wondered how bad it was over at the villages they had left. Had they gotten snowed in this hard? The Guard was going to be mighty busy cleaning roads, that was for certain sure. He hoped that the worst of it was falling here, in The Bastion. He wouldn’t wish this on small villages. He hoped people had managed to get their herds into shelter before it hit, because three days in the snow without food would probably kill most cattle, sheep, and horses. And when the storm was over, it would be hideously hard work to get out to them, even in shelter, and get food to them.

  It snowed them in hard. Because there was very little wind to speak of in the valley, there were no insanely tall drifts, but the snow in the entrance was fully waist deep. There would be no getting out of the cave without a lot of work. Mags had been afraid that Jakyr and Lita would be so restless and irritated by being confined together like this that they would start actual fights by the middle of the first day of the blizzard itself.