by Roger Taylor
* * * *
As Endryk guided Hyrald and the others along the shore through the latter part of the day, the clumps of vegetation in the hard sand became increasingly more dense until the shore ahead became a continuous sheet of dull green, streaked with patches of brown and grey, and the shining line of the sea became ragged and broken. The distant sound of birds had gradually grown much louder. It surrounded the riders, forming a relentless chorus to their journey across the long-shadowing landscape, at once desolate and reassuring.
‘What’s that?’ Adren pointed towards the horizon. As she did so, a dark cloud, thin as smoke, rose up in the far distance against the reddening sky. It shifted, folded, moved from side to side as no cloud could, then, as quickly as it had appeared, sank and vanished.
‘Birds,’ Endryk said. ‘Like I told you.’
Adren gaped. ‘Birds?’ she said uncertainly. Endryk nodded.
Adren’s eyes widened with wonder and for a while she stared fixedly at the now motionless horizon. ‘What a sight,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve seen birds flocking in the city in the evening, but never anything like that. There must be so many. How can they move like that – so quickly?’ She shook her head slowly in disbelief then pointed again. ‘But that wasn’t what I was looking at. What are those?’
Endryk followed her hand then glanced quickly at Thyrn. ‘They’re the tops of the hills on the other side – north,’ he said, mouthing the last word silently. ‘You’ll see more as we move further inland, as the estuary narrows.’
Thyrn however, either did not hear or was too rapt in thought to note the first appearance of his long-sought goal. Adren acknowledged Endryk’s discretion and said nothing further.
They rode on in silence for a little while until Endryk announced, ‘We’ll have to move off the shore now, it’s nothing but marsh up ahead. Fine for the birds but hard going and very dangerous for us.’
‘Tide dangerous, is it?’ Rhavvan asked, anxious to use his slight knowledge of this alien place.
‘No, not here,’ Endryk replied. ‘Not usually, anyway. But there are areas of soft mud here that could swallow an entire regiment in minutes – horses and all – and leave no trace.’ Rhavvan reined his horse to a halt and stared at him as though he might be joking. ‘They shift and change with the tide,’ Endryk explained casually. ‘I can’t guide you through them. No one can.’
‘The sooner we get back to civilization, the better,’ Rhavvan sighed, looking down uncomfortably at the indentations his horse’s hooves were making in the sand as he realized that Endryk was simply telling him the truth. ‘This place has far too many bad surprises for my liking. What else are we going to find here?’
Endryk dismounted and began leading his horse towards the trees that fringed the shore. The others followed him. ‘A few insects, maybe, and some swift rivers,’ he replied. ‘Plenty of plants to sting and poison you if you’re foolish enough to sit on them or eat them. A few animals to steal your food in the night, if you don’t stow it properly. And, of course, starvation and exposure if you really don’t know what you’re doing. But plenty of food, water and shelter if you do.’ His lip curled. ‘And no thieves, murderers, drunkards, streets choked with horses, waggons and quarrelling people scrabbling to go nowhere special. No armies, no swords, no…’ He stopped and grimaced. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
‘The apologies are ours,’ Hyrald said, watching his guide’s face carefully. ‘We’ve brought the memories and the swords back into your life. And I suppose there’s a risk of more coming.’
‘Yes,’ Endryk said, his agitation gone as quickly as it had come. We’ll have to talk about that.’ Then he was fully himself again. ‘There’s a good place for a camp not far away. We’ve made as much of the day as we can, we should use the rest of the light to tend the horses and set up for the night.’
Within the hour it was dark and they were sitting around a small fire looking unusually contented. The Wardens who had attacked them on the shore had come well-equipped, leaving them not only with a welcome addition to their rations, but also two small tents to complement one they had stolen on their journey. Erecting them had proved a little problematical, but finally Rhavvan was able to declare, ‘Quite spacious,’ as he stood back and examined their joint handiwork. ‘A marked improvement on the past weeks.’
Endryk, by contrast, had swiftly and skilfully rigged himself a shelter with a piece of rope and a sheet.
‘Do you do any training in this kind of terrain?’ he asked tentatively.
The three Wardens stared at him blankly ‘What for?’ Hyrald asked.
Endryk shrugged. ‘I thought perhaps as part of your basic training – for emergency survival?’
‘No.’ Hyrald’s tone was disparaging. ‘Survival for us is a matter of stick, sword, good information and having the wit to know when to run.’
‘And your friends,’ Rhavvan added, to common agreement.
‘Why would we need to know how to live out here?’ Hyrald went on. ‘As you said yourself; there are no thieves and rogues about here, and if any of them want to run away from the city so much the better. Less trouble for us. Let them get poisoned and stung and die of exposure.’
Endryk nodded wistfully. ‘Yes, of course, foolish question.’
‘I gather you did train to live out here,’ Hyrald said, glancing at Endryk’s neat and simple shelter.
‘Different needs, different ways. Foolish question, as I said.’ Endryk was obviously anxious not to pursue the matter.
There was little further talk around the flickering fire, everyone seeming to take to heart Hyrald’s earlier advice that decisions about their future were perhaps best made after a night’s sleep. And too, the gentle crackling of the fire and the shadowy vigil of the trees about them was more conducive to silence than debate. Only one topic stirred them before they retired to their respective tents.
‘We must…’ Endryk paused as he sought other words. ‘I think it would be a good idea to post a guard.’
This provoked yet more blank looks, but this time Endryk did not retreat. He lowered his voice. ‘People – hunters – have already found you once. As you pointed out, you’re as far from Arvenshelm as you can get, here – off the map, I think you said. Yet out of this whole country they knew which way you’d gone and came straight to you. So if your own kind – city people – could follow you so easily, you’ve obviously left a trail like a runaway hay cart.’ The three Wardens looked at him darkly, unhappy at the reproach and uncertain where it was leading.
Hyrald made to interrupt but Endryk pressed on. ‘If you decide ultimately to go north perhaps it won’t matter, but if you go south, you’ll be heading for trouble and you’ll have to be much more careful about how you move and how you cover your tracks. Even now you’ve got two, maybe three, days in Arvenstaat before you decide which way to go and if you’re found again, you may not have the mist on your side, or only three to deal with.’
Hyrald exchanged looks with Rhavvan and Adren as if seeking inspiration that would enable him to denounce or laugh off the notion of further pursuit and conflict. But nothing came.
Endryk’s quiet logic was indisputable – and frightening.
‘You’re right,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s just not a way any of us think.’
‘You need to start. Right away.’
Again Hyrald felt a hint of resentment at Endryk’s command of events, but again it faded before his unaffected manner and the simple, if cruel, truth of what he was saying.
‘Yes, I can see that.’ He looked at Thyrn and Nordath. ‘I suppose we all need to start thinking differently if we’re going to survive this. Let go of our old lives if we’re to get them back, as it were. We got through the first rush as much by good luck as anything else, but we can’t rely on that holding for ever.’ His manner became grim as his own words opened up the implications of their position. ‘We’ve got a lot to learn. We’re only going to get one try and one mistake could be our last.
’
The mood of the group darkened and only the faint hiss of the fire disturbed the night silence. Then it spluttered and shifted, sending up a small flurry of sparks and lighting the solemn faces. Hyrald clapped his hands.
‘We’ll stand guard in two-hour shifts,’ he said briskly. ‘Nordath, will you do the first? Then Adren and Rhavvan. I’ll do the last.’ No one argued.
‘What about me?’ Thyrn asked, unexpectedly indignant.
‘You’re too young,’ Hyrald replied, adding feebly, ‘you need your sleep.’
‘And me?’ Endryk asked before Thyrn could argue further.
Hyrald looked at him. ‘You’ve done more than enough for us. And this isn’t your fight. If anything happens – if we’re attacked, any time – run for it, save yourself, with our thanks.’
Endryk stood up and stretched. ‘I’ll stand my turn tomorrow night,’ he said categorically, walking over to his shelter. ‘Good night to you all. Sleep well.’
‘And so will I,’ Thyrn added, copying his tone. He nodded to the three Wardens. ‘Good night.’ Then, young again, to Nordath, ‘Good night, Uncle.’
Hyrald stared after them. ‘Well, I’m glad we got that settled,’ he said sourly under his breath.
Nordath was chuckling to himself at Hyrald’s caustic manner as he mounted guard. It felt strange. There had been precious little to make him laugh since Thyrn had tumbled, hysterical, into his house and plunged him into this waking nightmare. He was too old for all this hiding and fleeing. His quiet, humdrum life had been torn apart. Only affection for Thyrn had kept him going. Indeed, only affection for Thyrn had kept him sane. That and a burning anger which he never voiced but which co-existed with his almost constant fear. None of this should be. Vashnar, like all in his position before him, had been entrusted with the authority of the people to protect them from arbitrary justice, from mob rule. Now here he was, fomenting it. He must be crazed. But the implications of this didn’t bear thinking about.
He leaned back against a tree and gripped Rhavvan’s borrowed staff with all his strength – a futile measure of his impotence against Vashnar’s corruption. Then, suddenly, he was quite calm. He began passing the staff gently from hand to hand.
‘Don’t sit down,’ Endryk had discreetly whispered to him. ‘You’ll fall asleep very quickly. You need to feel the night. Keep something moving – just slow and easy and quiet. Keep looking at different things.’ It seemed like good advice, Nordath reflected, as a pervasive yawn swept through him. He was just levering himself away from the tree when something nudged his leg making him suddenly very awake and on the verge of crying out. Nals’ eyes glinted up at him, green in the starlit darkness. Nordath cleared his throat softly. ‘Good dog,’ he said, unconvincingly.
No incident disturbed the sleepers that night, other than the grumbles of those being awakened for guard duty, though each of them in turn had to cope with the stealthy footsteps, the rustling undergrowth, the strange grunts and squeals – some near, some far – that told of the lives of the countryside’s night creatures. These, and the regular inspections by Nals, were the subject of some amusement the following morning as they breakfasted on their former colleagues’ supplies.
Endryk’s quiet education of the group began with the breaking of their camp. The fire was well doused, the ashes scattered, and the turf which he had removed before he lit it was replaced. Such damage as the tents and the horses had made was also covered or repaired and, to the untutored eyes of his pupils, the small clearing seemed to have been quite untouched by their stay.
Endryk was less sanguine. ‘It’ll have to do,’ he said, though not unkindly.
‘No Warden’s going to notice, that’s for sure,’ Rhavvan told him confidently, proud of his new-learned skills.
Shortly after they left the camp, it began to rain – a steady vertical drizzle.
‘This is set in for the day,’ Endryk said, hitching on a long cape and pulling the hood forward. ‘Not much fun.’ He looked at the others and smiled. ‘Well, I see the Wardens have good waterproof capes,’ he said.
‘Oh yes,’ Rhavvan said. ‘Standing for hours in the rain is something we do know about. And I doubt it’s any wetter here than in the city.’
For the rest of the day, a hunched procession moved steadily westwards, following the line of the shore. The terrain varied a great deal – sometimes flat and open, sometimes hilly and confused – a mixture of woodland and grassland with ragged stretches deep in ferns and shrubs, and an increasing number of rocky outcrops. But it presented them with no serious problems and they walked and rode equally, accepting the rhythm set by Endryk.
For the most part they travelled in silence, though on two occasions Endryk stopped so that he could show them some edible berries and roots. His dripping audience’s attention was polite but unenthusiastic. He patted the saddlebags. ‘Wait till you’re hungry,’ he said. ‘This lot won’t last for long. And we’ll have to catch some livestock soon.’ Thyrn gave his uncle a plaintive look as they moved off again.
Whenever they were in the open, Thyrn’s gaze would be drawn inexorably northwards, but all he could make out through the rain was the dull green of the marshes fading into greyness.
Towards evening, the rain stopped and they finished the final part of their day’s journey in the light of a low, warm and yellow sun which cut long shadows through the steam rising from them. They camped amongst trees again, though this time in the shelter of an overhanging rock face. After tending the horses and lighting a fire to dry themselves, they dined on a mixture of their own supplies and some of the roots and berries that Endryk had picked.
‘A good day,’ Endryk said, nudging the fire with his boot. ‘We’ve done well.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Hyrald said. ‘I wouldn’t have liked it to be a poor one. At least I can be exhausted with a clear conscience now. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat down.’
Endryk looked a little guilty. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I forgot you’re not used to travelling like this. I should’ve been more careful with you.’
‘We’ll live,’ Rhavvan said, without conviction, his head slumping forward.
Endryk looked even guiltier. ‘Before you get too settled, I need to show you how to lay some traps.’
The idea was greeted by a subdued chorus. ‘What?’
‘Traps – if you want to eat.’
It was dark when they returned from this reluctant exercise, but Nordath and Thyrn had kept the fire high and cheerful and this, added to their exhaustion, precluded any reproach to their guide.
‘I’ll do the first guard shift,’ Thyrn said, by way of greeting.
‘And I the second,’ Endryk added quickly, while judiciously quietening the blazing fire.
Hyrald raised his hands in surrender.
There was little conversation after this and, as on the previous night, the topic of their ultimate destination was avoided.
Thyrn found his duty shift alarming, but gave a manful acknowledgement to Endryk when he was relieved. Wriggling gratefully into his tent he fell asleep immediately. Then, after what felt like only moments, he was awake again. Someone had a hand over his mouth.
Chapter 11
Though the hand over his mouth was purposeful and completely effective in preventing him from making any sound, there was no threatening strength in it and Thyrn sensed rather than saw, in the dim light, a finger being applied to lips, warning him to be quiet.
‘Don’t be afraid – it’s me, Endryk,’ came a whisper.
Thyrn’s wide eyes picked out only a faint silhouette, but Endryk’s accent was unmistakable.
‘Gently now. Don’t wake the others. Come with me,’ he said. ‘I want to show you something.’ The hand slipped from Thyrn’s mouth and patted his shoulder conspiratorially. The silhouette slipped through the open flap of the tent, beckoning.
As he emerged, Thyrn took a deep breath. The air was cool and moist and had a quality about it quite differ
ent to anything he had ever known in the city. It felt good. Looking up he saw that the sky was greying.
‘What time is it?’ he whispered in some dismay as Endryk took his elbow and motioned him away from the tent.
‘It’ll be dawn soon,’ came the reply. Thyrn felt his limbs go leaden. His mouth dropped open as a precursor to a loud exclamation. Endryk clamped his hand over it again. ‘Don’t wake the others,’ he hissed. ‘Especially your uncle, he needs his sleep. He’s a lot of heart but he’s too old for this kind of life.’ He pointed into the gloom and Thyrn was just able to make out Nordath dutifully guarding the camp. He was sitting against a tree and was fast asleep. ‘Don’t worry,’ Endryk said. ‘Nals will keep guard until we get back.’
‘Get back? From where? Where are we going?’
The hand on his elbow led him further away from the camp, then it released him and gestured to him to follow. Curious now, he obeyed the instruction almost without hesitation. He needed no injunction to silence. This was not only implicit in Endryk’s posture, it was commanded by the heavy stillness of the surrounding trees.
After walking for a few minutes, Endryk stopped. In a gentle, sweeping movement, but keeping his hands low, he opened his arms in a slow, expansive gesture and then brought them together again. Thyrn watched him, bewildered. He had a momentary urge to copy him.
‘What are you doing?’ he risked.
‘Just breathing. Feeling the morning,’ came the unhelpful reply. ‘It’s important to remember that really there’s only now.’
Thyrn frowned and let the matter go. ‘Where are we going? What’ve you got me up at this time for?’
Endryk’s smile showed pale through the greyness.
‘So that you could feel the morning as well.’
‘What!’
‘Sh!’
A gesture brought the silence of the forest to Endryk’s aid and then he was moving again, soft and easy. Thyrn followed, blundering and awkward by comparison, dew from the disturbed undergrowth dampening his boots and dark staining his trousers.