The Betrayed

by Matthew Dickerson

  “It’s not good,” Jhonna commented on several occasions. “All one crop. My father could tell them that.”

  “More efficient,” Kachtin argued.

  “Wild grain is even better than both,” Rhaan said. “The soil need not be tilled at all, and the roots of the grains are deep.”

  “It’s the policy of Citadel,” Armas said. “Doesn’t matter whether it’s better or not. The farmers have no choice. Most don’t even own their land anymore.”

  “And those who do own the land don’t pay their laborers well either,” Siyen added. Her voice held as much anger as it did self-pity.

  “Still more efficient,” Kachtin repeated.

  Thimeon listened to the argument for several more minutes, but eventually his thoughts returned to Tienna and Elynna and the others. To the warnings from Borodruin and fears of what would happen if Cane tried to wield the stone he now possessed. And to how he might find them in the midst of all the vast wild mountainous lands of northern Gondisle.

  At midday they stopped by a small stream to rest the horses while they ate lunch. Jhonna collapsed on the ground and fell asleep, but when they woke her to depart, she did not complain. They continued into the afternoon at the same pace. At sunset, they bivouacked once more at the edge of a wood about a hundred feet from the road. They risked no fire, but their cold meal was hearty, and Thimeon went to sleep on a full stomach but unsettled heart.

  The third full day since their escape, and their second day of travel, was much the same, though the land was a little wilder. Thimeon could see the southern range of the Ceadani highlands far ahead and to the left. The land closer to the road on the south side was now hillier, the farms fewer and farther apart, and the woods thicker and darker.

  North of the road, the impact of the large-scale agriculture could now be seen more readily. Traffic on the road did not change much. They saw mostly merchants traveling westward. Thimeon watched his companions, who looked often over their shoulders, none more frequently than Lyn. And each time they did, he had to resist turning and looking himself. But they saw no sign of soldiers.

  Jhonna looked even more tired than the previous day. But when her sister asked her if she wanted to go back home, her face grew resolute and she refused. From then on, if she was tired, she did not show it. And Thimeon’s growing sense of urgency preoccupied his own thoughts. Fears for his companions. Anxiety over each hour that passed. He knew he could do little for Jhonna. Or for any of his new companions.

  That night they camped in a little grove of tall redwoods on the south side of the road. A low ridge separated them from the road, and Thimeon deemed it acceptable to light a fire. They had come most of the way to Kreana, and they had not had any mishaps. They would soon have to make a decision.

  On the third morning, Thimeon woke to overcast skies and the threat of rain. But the clouds scattered to the west as the morning wore on, and blue sky returned. They had not traveled far before Thimeon’s nostrils took in the fresh smell of salt air. The Ceadani mountains had come far to the south, and their higher peaks were visible to their left. They were nearing the eastern edge of the Southland. Soon the road descended through rugged hills. Jhaban, who had been born in Kreana, announced they would be at the Kreana Road—a fork leading off the main trade route and down into the coastal city—before the morning passed.

  Not long after, they came to the place he described. To the left, the trade road turned northwestward, where it ran through a narrow coastal passage into the Northland. Kreana was halfway from Citadel to the edge of the Northland, where lush green farmland and forest gave way to dry coastal desert. A sign beside the road indicated that Kreana lay to the right.

  “Now we must decide,” Dhan said when they came to a halt at the sign. He looked at Thimeon as he spoke, but everybody listened. They had talked about the decision several times during the previous day and a half but had not yet settled the matter.

  Thimeon paused. The decision weighed his heart. His eyes wandered north, toward Gale Enebe, where Chal Char, and Cathwain, and their people might still be besieged. And beyond, toward where Elynna and his former companions were . . . where? Thimeon did not even know. But it was not to the south. He knew that.

  “Our path must bring us back into the mountains north of here. The Ana Notch is the quickest way, and most years the weather would still permit safe passage at this season. But with the preternatural winter brought on by the Daegmon, I don’t know.”

  “Let us go to Kreana for the night,” Jhaban suggested again. “I have family there. They will accommodate us and supply us. If we’re going into the mountains, we’ll want to trade these wagons for two more saddle horses, and maybe a pair of pack horses too.”

  Thimeon voiced his thoughts aloud. “Kreana is out of our way. We’ll waste an entire day descending to the ocean and climbing back.”

  “We could lose more time trying to get wagons through the Ana Notch. And there may be other advantages also. If we are being followed, we could hide our trail by spending a day or two in Kreana. The city has a habit of swallowing people. Then again, we might even leave the city by another route and lose our pursuers altogether.”

  “I’ve had enough of secret tunnels,” Armas said, grumbling. “I think I’d as soon fight as have to crawl underground anymore.”

  Jhaban laughed. “That makes two of us. But I speak of a different escape. My parents own a fleet of boats, remember? Some of the fastest ships you can find on any coast of Gondisle.”

  32

  A WARMER WELCOME

  The next morning dawned with frigid temperatures and a howling east wind. Though the trees offered shelter, Elynna could hear the gusts whipping through treetops bending and swaying above her. But it was not the wind that stung her the most. Almost as soon as she awoke, she felt the Daegmon. The creature was near. It was aware of her, and it knew she was aware of it. It sent the force of its malice against her. Elynna steeled herself for a day of pain, but she no longer had any thought of turning back.

  They consumed the last of the cheese from Tanengog, washed it down with water, and were soon on their way. They followed a path westward, guided alternately by glimpses of the twin peaks growing taller before them and by Elynna’s awareness of the Daegmon. She no longer had to make any effort to sense it. The searing heat and pressure on her spine had returned, and despite the wind at her back, it took all her will to continue. The effort occupied her thoughts and drained her emotions. Only Cane’s presence and the talisman about his neck gave her strength to press onward.

  As the morning rolled past, the sky darkened and a strong northeast wind drove in storm clouds. “A strange wind this time of year,” Bandor commented. “I don’t know what this means, but we’ll likely see snow.”

  He was not mistaken—snow began to fall at midday. At first the flakes were small and whipped around their backs, making little eddies at their feet. The Twins grew to a faint gray and then disappeared. The group marked their course and continued on as Elynna assured them they were nearing the Daegmon.

  Eventually they came to the end of the wood. A steep rocky slope rose in front of them, and they thought they had reached the base of the mountain. It turned out to be just a low rocky ridge. They crossed it and dropped down the other side into a wide ravine. At the bottom, just as they were appreciating the shelter from the wind, they splashed through a shallow icy pool, whose surface had been hidden by a layer of powdery snow over thin ice. Elynna slipped on a rock and only the quick strong arm of Cathros saved her from a cold plunge. But the pain of her awareness of the Daegmon’s was now so present and continuous she barely noticed her numb feet. A plunge into a cold stream might have felt better than the stench and pain of the Daegmon.

  Her companions grumbled about the cold and wet as they climbed up the far side of the gully. At the top, the wind had grown stronger and swung around from behind them, blowing them onward
toward their enemy. Turning back into it would be hard. Snow fell hard now too, swirling around their faces. In places the ground was windswept bare, but in others the drifts were waist deep. This was a real mountain snowstorm such as only the Highlanders were used to. Elynna pulled her fur headband down over her ears and hunched over against the bite of the wind.

  “Let us stop,” came some voices—chiefly the Westwashers and some of the Plainsfolk.

  But Cane led them now, and he showed no interest in stopping. He paused only briefly and looked over his shoulder at Elynna, who trudged along behind him. “Can you still sense it?” he asked, nearly shouting in her face.

  She could sense almost nothing else, Elynna wanted to scream back at him. Half of her ached to turn and flee, but another part of her was ready for this battle to end—one way or another. She was too tired for the battle not to end. Too tired to stop and rest. And that part of her won.

  “Yes,” she replied. “It is close. The smell is strong now. The heat. I can feel it like smoke in my face even as the cold wind bites the back of my neck.”

  Cane’s face grew more concerned. “Will it attack us?”

  Elynna shook her head. She could sense the enemy. She heard through her pain bits and pieces of its intention in the malice. But it was not approaching. This was not like the previous two battles when it attacked them. “It awaits us,” she said.

  Cane nodded. His expression grew more resolute. He turned and continued on, with the wind itself driving behind them. When it became clear that Cane would not stop, Bandor and Theo had them all lash themselves together at the waist in two long chains to prevent any of them from getting lost. “And if one of us should slip over some unseen edge or through any more ice, the rest of us can pull him up,” Bandor said, taking one of the lead positions opposite Cane.

  “Or be pulled down too,” grumbled Aram, who got lashed between Beth and Hrevia.

  “If one of us falls someplace, I’ll be the first to cut you free of me,” Hrevia retorted angrily as they continued on. Then the storm let up briefly. The snow stopped, and the wind died down.

  “This is the eye of the storm,” Bandor answered. “It’ll get worse.”

  Elynna nodded. She believed Bandor, but now she was in a different storm—one none of the others could feel. Though she was aware of her companions’ struggles, the wind and snow seemed irrelevant compared with the malice of their enemy. Or perhaps they were the same. Had the Daegmon caused this storm to drive her to it?

  They marched on. Twenty minutes later Bandor’s words came true. The storm picked up with new intensity. At almost the same moment, Elynna’s awareness of their enemy diminished from a sharp reeking burn to a dull pain. It was still there, she knew. It had not left. But it no longer directed its thoughts at her. It wasn’t probing for her presence. And she had no desire to probe outward with her own thoughts.

  The relief did not last long, however. For almost as soon as the enemy’s presence withdrew, Elynna became aware of the intensity of the squall. The heat was replaced by a bitter cold that drove her onward. Keeping her eyes fixed on Cane’s back, she stumbled onward.

  By the time they stopped for a rest in the lee side of a thick stand of mountain spruce, Elynna was on the verge of collapsing. Most of her companions appeared no better off. Keet was only kept upright by his brother. Beth didn’t look much better off. Icicles hung from Pietr’s hood. “This is madness,” Bandor shouted at Cane.

  “Better madness than weakness,” Cane shouted back.

  “Look,” Bandor replied, still shouting to be heard over the wind. “I have a better chance than any of the Northlanders of surviving these mountain storms, so don’t speak to me of weakness. If the company continues, I’ll continue until every last one of you is frozen to death. Because that’s what is going to happen if you continue. Either that or we’ll fall off the edge of some cliff or into another river. We need to find shelter.”

  Some of the others had gathered around Bandor and Cane. Several nodded in agreement with Bandor. A few just collapsed to the ground.

  Then, Elynna was caught by surprise when dark shapes loomed out of the snow.

  Thirty or more brandished battle-axes and spears. Some wore heavy woolen tunics of brown and green. Most were clad in the sheepskin garb of the Undeani. Elynna watched in fear as they circled around. Her hope that it was Braga soon disappeared. She did not recognize any of the faces. “Cane,” she warned in a low but insistent voice.

  Cane, busy arguing with Bandor, looked up. His hand flew at once to his sword, but his fingers were cold, and ice had formed on his sheath. He could not pull the blade free.

  The strangers circled closer, still threatening with their spears and axes. Aram, Tienna, Noab, and Theo had managed to draw their weapons and waited in a defensive posture. A few steps away Namha stood poised with a knife in each hand. The others looked too cold to care.

  For several long seconds the two companies stared at one another through the snow. Then one of the strangers stepped forward. He looked from face to face before his gaze settled on Elynna. He lowered his axe. “Be welcome,” he said. “You have picked a treacherous day to travel in a land unknown to you.”

  Elynna stood speechless. Cane’s blade came loose, and he drew it. Two of the other strangers moved their spears closer to him, but the one who had spoken didn’t seem to notice the gestures. His voice cut through the whine of the wind. “The Undeani highlands are dangerous, especially as winter sets in. Perhaps we can offer you a warmer welcome than our weather has?”

  Elynna continued to stare in disbelief. Undeani travelers were rare outside of their own realm—almost as rare as outsiders in Undeani land—and yet this one spoke the trade tongue flawlessly and with a Citadel accent. “This storm must have left you hungry. Follow us. We will give you shelter, food, and hot drink.”

  “Who are you?” Aram barked.

  “I am Creagon of the village of Eckidon. It is not far. We can lead you there if—”

  Whatever he said next was lost to Elynna in a gust of wind. A branch overhead broke free with a loud snap and crashed to the ground in an explosion of snow, missing Noaem and Anchara by an arm’s length. The near disaster was all it took. “Yes,” Cane answered. “We will come.”

  Creagon nodded. Allowing Elynna and her companions no further time to think, he gave a sharp barking order to his men, then turned on his heels and started into the storm. Renewed by the promise of warmth and food, they followed, still tied together at the waist in two long chains.

  Keeping Creagon’s form visible amid the swirling snow ahead of them, Bandor and Cane led the way. Elynna followed, vaguely aware of the dim shapes of Undeani warriors moving along with them on both sides. As Creagon had promised, the way proved short. Within a minute they had reached the first outbuilding: a small shed from which they could hear the muffled bleating of sheep or goats. Apparently the wind had driven Elynna and her company almost to the door of the village before Creagon had found them. Though in the storm they might have passed a stone’s throw to the north and never noticed the buildings. And then what? They might have all frozen to death in this storm. Instead, they were being welcomed into a village with the promise of warmth.

  “Something is wrong here.”

  A voice intruded on Elynna’s thoughts. Noab, from two or three places behind her in the chain, had forced his way up beside her and now spoke softly in her ear. “I do not trust Creagon.”

  They seem a lot more hospitable than Braga, Elynna wanted to reply, but some premonition of her own echoed Noab’s fears. And though she still felt bitter toward the folk of Gale Ceathu for not interceding when Golach had captured and arrested the company many weeks ago, Elynna had come to trust Noab and his gift for discerning the truth. She held her tongue. An instant later an intense painful heat jabbed her. The Daegmon was close by.

  It dawned on her then, for the f
irst time. Although her ability to sense the Daegmon seemed to have grown—perhaps because she had become more familiar with her gift, or maybe due to the presence of the stone Cane now possessed, or both—and her enemy’s presence caused the same burning pain as ever, terror did not overwhelm her as it often had. Was that, too, the result of the stone? Or of Cane’s increased power? Or was she just more used to the scent of the Daegmon? Or was the Daegmon itself not trying to induce terror?

  A tug from the rope at her waist propelled her forward again. Fifty more steps brought them to a clearing. Elynna got the impression of buildings around her. But though she could hear the wind whistling through vague dark shadows looming on both sides, she could not see them clearly. She was surrounded by a swirling world of gray and white.

  Somebody ahead, Creagon perhaps, led the line of companions straight into a high wall. A door opened, and they stepped out of the grayness into a large well-lit building. It appeared to be the central hall of a travelers’ tavern, some sixty or seventy feet across and about forty feet wide with high timbered ceilings. A fire blazed in a great hearth against the side wall, and the air was warm and dry though smoky. Oil lamps hung from the rafters.