by Greg Curtis
Her family could be among them.
Genivere's heart soared as she whispered her prayers of hope to the Mother. She needed her family to be alive. She needed it with all her being.
Having been to Hammeral and seen the death and destruction, having felt the terror that her family might be among the dead had brought her a whole new understanding of Yorik. Of the pain that he must have suffered when he lost his family. Until then she'd thought she'd understood. Now she realised that she truly hadn’t. It was not something you could truly understand until you felt it.
She understood the anger too. Now. She never could have before. Not until she'd seen what had happened to Hammeral. Not until she had realised that her family might well have perished. But then as she'd ridden the ten leagues to Andalia she'd felt the waves of anger toward the one who had done this. She'd felt the hatred growing within her, overpowering her.
It was on that trail in the darkness that she had truly understood.
She hated Mayfall as she had never hated anyone in her life. She wanted to kill him. To tear his head off and feel his blood running through her fingers. She wanted to hear him scream. It was wrong, it was something she'd never before known in her life, but it was true and she simply didn't care how wrong it was. And she didn't even know if he'd killed her family. She only feared it. Yorik had not been even that lucky.
Genivere doubted she was alone in her hatred of him.
It had been a long trek through the afternoon and then into the night as they'd ridden to the town. Far longer than the mere distance they'd travelled. Silent too, as no one wanted to speak. It wasn't only that they hadn't known what to say. It was that they'd feared speaking. Feared that when the words started flowing the horror of what they had witnessed would return with them. And the fear with it.
Instead of speaking they'd simply trotted, their horses finding their own pace for the most part as the darkness had fallen. They hadn't been in a hurry after all, not when they were terrified of what they might find waiting for them. Besides, the horses were tired. After a week of hard riding day and night with two riders apiece as they'd raced back to Hammeral, the horses were at their end. So were their riders. They were exhausted. No one had any strength left.
But at least it was over. They were here.
“We should find the elders and give our report.”
It was more than just duty that made the captain say that Genivere knew. It was because the elders could give them answers. Or at least some of them. They could tell them at least roughly how many had survived Hammeral. Even if they couldn't tell them of their families, they could bring them some hope. And perhaps even a place to start looking.
Or they could take it all away.
The captain dismounted and the rest of the party did the same. Riding through the darkness was risky, and though the trail south had been in good condition there had been a chance of a fall and a horse or one of them being hurt. In a town filled with people running around in the dark, some of them lying on the ground sleeping, the consequences of such a fall could be even more serious.
They followed their Captain as she led her horse into the heart of the town. Across the clearing filled with hide and canvas tents that looked as though they had been pulled together from whatever scraps of cloth and rugs that could be found, towards the distant trees. It was there that they knew, or hoped, that the elders would be found. Because it was there that the town centre lay, woven into the vast series of platforms and walkways that hung from them.
Andalia was quite different to Hammeral. It was far more spread out than the city. And so the walkways that hung between the trees were far longer while the platforms were nowhere near as large and not nearly as crowded. Even at night in Hammeral there would be people out walking them; city guards, night workers and those enjoying the moonlight. Not in Andalia. But then it was a town not a city. In time it would surely grow more crowded.
For the moment the extra people were all in the clearing, and those out working were mainly healers, guards and grieving kin, wandering from one tent to the next. The city itself was quiet.
As they crossed the clearing Genivere couldn't help but hear the groans coming from some of the tents. Nor could she miss the quiet sobs that echoed across the still night air. The music of tears that had claimed this town. Many of those in the tents she knew would be badly injured, perhaps even dying. Many of those who wept, wept not just for those who had died but those who were going to die soon. And they were the survivors.
So were the healers. She watched them as they criss-crossed the clearing, surprised to see that so many of them wore the robes of priests. A lot of the robes were embroidered with either gold or silver brocade. That could only mean that they were of the Silver Order or the Order of the Lady. And those of the Order of the Lady could only have come from Hammeral. That was good. It was more than good when it meant that not all of the Order of the Lady had been killed. Her brother could be among the survivors. But the fact that there were so many of them and that they were still so busy wasn't. It spoke to how many patients they had to tend to.
When they reached the trees Genivere knew a sense of relief. The more so once they could hand the reins over to a small party of town guards standing watch by a brazier and were told that the elders were in the council chamber. That was just a short distance from where they were, and the fact that they were awake meant that they didn't have to rouse them from their beds. But it did mean that they were busy. Perhaps too busy to be disturbed by them.
They walked up the ramps to the lower levels of the town and then across the walkways until they reached the Council chambers. Andalia was far too small to have its own Council hall like Hammeral, and the council chambers were little more than a platform with walls. But they were guarded; a sure sign that the elders were meeting. Most important of all they represented the end of their journey. Their mission had ended in failure, but at least it had ended.
Inside things were not as she'd expected. Not least because there was no meeting of the elders in session. Instead there were only three people waiting for them, and one of them was Annalisse Brial Lon. The fact that the foreteller was standing inside the chamber could only mean that there was no meeting of the Council underway after all.
“Elder.”
The captain greeted her formally and bowed her head. It was a mistake as she should have known.
“Enough child!”
The foreteller waved her hand imperiously at her. “You have come a long way and learned a lot for which we thank you. There is no need for titles and no time for them either.”
“But we -.”
“Your mission did everything we could have asked for. You exposed our enemy and showed us what we face.”
“But how -?”
“Because we watched you every step of the way.”
The foreteller was clearly ready for their questions. Turning to her right, she indicated the woman standing beside her.
“This is Berryn of Whitestone Gorge, a farseer who was tasked with the duty of watching you from the beginning. She has reported everything of your journey back to us, beginning with Yorik's battle with the paladin of the Iron Hand, and ending with your meeting with the dwarf. You have nothing to report, and your mission has gone well.”
“We have lost three.”
“You have lost one. Myral and Yorik live and ride even now for the sylph and hopefully will get some answers about our enemy. But your companion Dandelas has sadly perished. The birds could not reach him in time.”
Sadly they had expected that last. They had been almost certain of their companion's passing and nearly as certain of the other two. Hopes for them had been faint. So maybe it was a blessing to hear that Yorik and Myral lived. But still the happiness was tinged with sadness for the confirmation of Dandelas' death. Genivere discovered that as she was sure the others did too. Even though there had never been much hope, they had still secretly clung to it.
“Who
sent the birds?” Genivere interrupted the pair, not meaning to and surely not meaning to ask that particular question when there were other questions that needed answers first. But she was curious. And she had wondered about it ever since they had splashed down into that lake.
“Myral called them as best he could and his call was heard by the Lady. Even when she was cut off from her old friend she heard his magic and answered for him.”
The Lady! That came as a surprise to Genivere. She wasn't one of the Lady's followers. She followed the Mother. In fact none of them were followers of the Lady. But the two who had remained behind were. Or rather, one was her follower and the other her friend. Apparently that had had been enough. Genivere thought that she should give thanks to the Lady in time. But there was so much else to do before then. And first she needed to find out what had happened.
“You know that the enemy is a dead wizard called Mayfall? The same wizard that Yorik killed? And that the dwarf Belabas Coldfist named him a thane and said he claimed responsibility for raising the undead?”
The captain remembered her duty when all Genivere wanted to do was ask about Hammeral. But it was the right thing to do and she didn't interrupt her.
“We know. When he appeared to you at the ancient temple he appeared to us as well. For the first time we saw our enemy. It was a shock.” Annalisse looked away suddenly, her face a mask of shadows and lines in the torchlight.
“We never expected a thane to be loose in the world. Not again.”
The foreteller's voice became a whisper, as if she didn't want to speak the words. And she still wasn't looking at them.
“That's why Myral and Yorik ride for the Land of the Sky. The sylph know more about the thanes than any others. They have suffered more than any others at their hands.”
Genivere knew the stories, or at least some of them. She knew that the Land of the Sky had once been a paradise, but that the thane had destroyed it. But she knew little of how. Or of how the sylph had stopped him. In fact she wasn't completely sure that they had. And even if they had they had still suffered terrible losses. She didn't want to think about what that might mean for them. But there was another question troubling her. One that the captain thoughtfully asked.
“How do Yorik and Myral still live? The dark wizard was beyond powerful and Yorik was badly wounded.”
More than badly Genivere knew. For blood to be flowing out from between the gaps in his armour as it had, he had to have been close to death.
“Myral travelled the path between worlds to escape but was wounded,” Berryn told them. “Yorik regained his connection with the Lady as he fell and has used it to sustain himself ever since. He heals, but slowly. He blames himself for Mayfall's becoming the thane, but it is his duty to overcome him. He will not let himself pass from this world until he has seen his duty done.”
“But this is not your concern.” Annalisse abruptly turned back to them, tiredness showing in every line of her face.
“For the moment we have people to help, and you wish to know of your loved ones. The rest of the thirteenth rangers are camped on the eastern side of the clearing. I pray they will have some of the answers you seek. And the Hammeral rangers of the Order of the Lady are camped not far from them.”
“I know you are tired, and you should go to them and recover for the night. But both groups ride in the morning. Their duty is to escort those among the refugees from Hammeral to the smaller towns throughout the Hammeral forest. Andalia is ill equipped to cope with so many people and besides, we also believe that the greatest safety for our people lies in being scattered far and wide. The cities will be the thane's first targets.”
“The blessings of the Mother be with you.”
It was a dismissal Genivere knew, and she like the others turned to leave. To do as they were ordered. But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay and ask more questions. About Yorik, about the thane and whether he could truly be responsible for having created him, and about how they could possibly fight such a creature. And how they could destroy him.
Annalisse wasn't going to hear her though. She was already deep in conversation with the other two elders, and Genivere realised that she'd probably been like that for a long time. Since well before they'd arrived. Despite her having expected them, the elder hadn't been here just waiting to welcome them home. The elders had probably been here for days, spending all their strength on trying to get their people to safety. And they would probably be here for many more. They didn't have time to speak with a party of rangers returned from a failed mission.
Besides, she had a destination. Her brother Geannalee was with the Rangers of the Order of the Lady. She had to find out if he lived. And if he knew the fate of their parents. She was exhausted. She hadn't slept in ages. Every part of her wanted to fall down and simply lie there. But her heart told her to run. To sprint out of the chamber and dash across the clearing screaming her brother's name.
So she forgot her questions and chased after the others, and by the time they were at the doors she was almost pushing them out of the way. There was no more time for unimportant questions.
Chapter Thirty Three.
Myral held up his hand and called out that they should slow and Yorik immediately had to fight the urge to snap at the wizard. But he did fight it because he knew the wizard was right. The horses could only do so much. And when they had them cantering a quarter of a league and then trotting the next for fifteen hours a day they were close to their limit.
In actual fact they were lucky to have had horses at all. Myral had managed to call three or four from the forests around Hammeral, but none of them were thoroughbreds. They also weren’t used to carrying paladins in armour or running day and night. They were farm horses, more familiar with pulling a plough than galloping. How he would have loved to have had Crysal and Smilla back. But they were now presumably wandering somewhere around the high plateau near the Wind Dragon Falls eating their fill of the long grass.
Yorik was frustrated. He knew they were making the best progress they could. But after two long weeks into their ride it just didn't seem enough.
Partly it was simply that they'd been riding for so long and had met no one. No one who could tell them anything of what was happening in the wider world. The land was mostly jungle and swamp with the trail the only solid ground through it. No one lived in these parts south of the Hammeral forests save for the satyrs, and they kept to themselves and shunned strangers. In fact given the nature of the land they could have ridden right by a dozen villages and never seen them.
In part it was also worry. Because he didn't know if Genivere and the other rangers had survived. Nor how many of his brothers in the Order survived. Or the others of Hammeral he'd met. Myral could tell him little. Only that he'd done what he could for the others at the temple by sending the great birds to find them, and that the elders and the foretellers at Hammeral would have prepared the city for the thane's arrival. They hoped that many, perhaps most would have survived. But day after day as they rode he worried. And all he could do as he rode further and further away from Hammeral and his brothers and the battle, was hope that the sylph knew something. Something that would make this journey worthwhile. But he feared that they wouldn't.
Yorik worried about what awaited them, and the very real chance that it would all be for nothing. That they would finally reach the border and simply be turned away. Myral had told him that it was a possibility a few times. What they were doing was all that they could do, but there was no certainty it would be enough.
The weather wasn't helping his mood either. While it was still summer, the land here was wet. It rained every night, and that was not helping with his recovery. Each morning he awoke stiff and sore and if it came to a fight he doubted he would be ready. His shoulder hurt less now and it moved more freely, but there was still no strength in it.
As they continued their journey Yorik’s frustration and worry grew. All the while that they rode he knew that Mayfall coul
d be doing anything. Killing anyone. He should be there, fighting. Standing by his brothers! Defending the people! Instead he was riding through the middle of nowhere to a meeting with people who might not even want to meet with them. And it would take them two more weeks even at the pace they were maintaining to reach the Land of The Sky, and then assuming everything went as they wanted it to, another month to return. But no matter how many times he asked, Myral said he was doing what he should be doing. Yorik just had to be patient.
So when they slowed to a gentle trot, he held his tongue. It would do no good to snap at him. Instead he gave voice to a question that had started running through his thoughts some leagues back. A question he had asked before and never got a satisfactory answer to.
“Myral, if we can't travel any faster to the Land of The Sky, is there any way we could get a message there faster? A pigeon perhaps?” If they could find a pigeon of course and it knew where to go and if someone read the message when it got there, or bothered to reply. There were so many if's.