The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom)

by Chris Northern

  #

  We hobbled the horses, wrapped ourselves in blankets and slept, keeping a watch in turns. Watching the torches of the horsemen move in the night until they at last returned to the town of Darklake, taking back their dead and waking the place, and waking me with their cries of anger and the weeping of the widows.

  No one slept after that; we waited tensely, watching and listening as the whole town lit up with torches and the roaring of a crowd. No one slept in Darklake. We didn't sleep either. We watched until the thin light of the false dawn began to seep across the land. Then we moved as fast as possible, leaving the settlement behind us and out of sight well before sunrise.

  I called a halt when we re-joined the trail, well north of Darklake. “I want to be sure they come this way. I know it's almost certain, but I want to be sure.”

  No one argued, so I passed control of the spare horse I was leading to Dannat and turned back the way we had come. “Keep moving, I'll catch up to you when I'm sure.”

  “Don't let them see you,” Sapphire advised, unnecessarily.

  I looked down at the trail, eyeing it almost suspiciously. “At least the path is rocky enough that they won't see fresh tracks.”

  Sapphire nodded. “I'd thought of it, but it's not likely they will be looking, and the trail looks well used in any case.”

  I gave a nod of agreement and moved off. The terrain was mostly flat, gently falling and rising in undulating ripples, but the trail hugged the bottom of the hill all the way back to Darklake.

  I didn't have far to go before I could see the lake and the walled town beside it. Here I dismounted, walked the horse back out of sight and returned to settle down and wait and watch.

  There was plenty to watch. Men were spilling out of Darklake like ants, a good number on horseback, many many more on foot. The horsemen divided to move both south and north around Darklake. They were hunting; the men on foot much slower, spreading out as they rounded the lake and headed in a broad arc east, all searching, searching for us. They didn't know we had passed them in the night. I saw no sign of Ishal Laharek, no sign of Tahal, none of Jocasta. I studied each group as well as I could. I was sure they were still in the town.

  I waited and watched. It was a thorough and methodical search. The lord of this place wanted us badly, it seemed. I kept still and watched and thought about what might happen, what might Ishal do next? I had plenty of time to think. On the far side of the pass Ishal would have allies, somewhere. How long until he reached them? How long until my task of freeing Jocasta became harder? Time was running short. I would have to act to free her soon. Was I doing all that I could? I thought about it. Was I using all my resources? That, I decided, depended on Dubaku. Even after all this time together I still had no clear idea of his abilities. More accurately, I did not have a clear idea of the abilities of the spirits he commanded. What else could they do? Was there a way he could communicate with Jocasta? At least reassure her that she was not forgotten, and maybe coordinate some kind of escape plan in which she could actively participate? I resolved to raise the matter with him as soon as possible.

  What else could I do? I berated myself silently, I could have been sitting here reading the letter that Dannat's father had prepared for us. Any information might help us. It would have to wait.

  Sapphire... I had a fair idea of where his skills lay. He was a spy, an assassin, and a peerless warrior. He had come into the palace at Undralt and got me out of there. With Jocasta's help, I remembered; she had laid down a fog to cover his movements. If she got her hands on the monster stone that Ishal had stolen from her family she would be able to free herself, I didn't doubt. Still, there was no point in thinking like that. I had to get her out of there. I needed a plan, something solid that would work. They thought we were behind them, so an ambush? More than three to one odds, and the risk that she might be hurt while we were about it. No. Sneak into their camp at night; not a plan that had seen much success so far – I needed to talk to Dannat, see that letter, and get more information. It may be that there were communities they could hole up in every day of their journey to wherever it was Ishal was going. A big enough community, one that would not pay us much mind, might be an option – but that would likely be the kind of town they were actually heading for, and that would put Jocasta in immediate danger of torture and other violations. I ground my teeth in angry frustration. I wanted her free. Now. And there was not the slightest damn thing I could do to make that happen. I stopped myself; there were things I could do – talk to Dubaku, read Dannat's letter and get more information.

  What about Meran? I worried about that. He and my two hundred men were heading this way. They were heading into a heated situation. I'd instructed him to bypass any settlement. They might be attacked, but I'd warned him to be cautious of that. If this town turned on two hundred city soldiers complete with battle mages and healers there would be a massacre. Would Meran be ruthless? Was there any way I could stop that from happening?

  I scratched a number on a rock. Frowned at it. Tahal might see it, and understand. I tossed it amongst some others by the side of the trail. Just another rock. My scout would have to work for his pay. Meran would just have to cope with whatever happened. I hoped they'd leave him alone, hoped Darklake was not strongly allied to the Necromancers, hoped there would not be a massacre here – I had no doubts who would be massacred and who victorious. But I already felt guilty enough at the deaths I'd caused. Yet I could think of nothing I could do to change things.

  My thoughts ran on in this vein for an hour and no one headed my way. There must be two hundred men of Darklake out on the plain and none had picked up our trail. Not yet. I watched and waited until at last there was further movement from the settlement. I counted the riders, they were too far away to see clearly but I was sure in my own mind that it was Ishal and his party. One dark robed figure in their midst. To be more certain I recast the seeker spell and watched them as they wound their way along the trail toward me. It was a match. It was them.

  Satisfied, I retreated to my horse, mounted and rode hard to catch up with Sapphire and the rest.

  #

  The trail was just as Dannat had described it; narrow and winding, a slope up to the left that was fairly stable looking, and a sharp drop to the right, a busy river frothing below.

  I looked back down the trail, seeing only short stretches as it wound raggedly along the slope, sometimes in view but more often not. I was concerned that Ishal might round one of those turns at any time and see us ahead of him; but even then, what would he see at a distance? Four riders, eight horses. A standard looking trading group. He would still expect us to be behind him and may even stop on this trail and wait in ambush. If so, how long would they wait? And what would they conclude when we never arrived? I put the thought aside, there was little to profit from speculating further. I knew what magic Tahal had, and though he was far more accomplished than me it still wasn't so much, but I had no idea what capabilities Ishal had. Keep moving, I decided, and get off this trail, get far enough ahead of them that they wouldn't see us. And then what?

  I faced forward and spent some time resisting the urge to reach for a drink. I wasn't sure if it was getting easier or if I was just getting better at it. The shakes had diminished to nothing and I hadn't been seriously drunk in days. Still, I had to work at it, setting a target and then when I got there, setting another instead of taking my reward. It wasn't easy, but I was doing it. Food helped, I tended to dip into the supplies as I rode, water helped also; as long as I was putting something in my mouth the craving for booze was eased slightly. But it never damn well went away.

  For a while I thought about what Dannat had said about the far side of the pass. There was not much; he had only been as far as the town of Learneth, where the northern traders entered the pass. Of the lands beyond he had only rumor; a thousand tribes clustered around Battling Plain and fighting for its resources in an annual dance that seems to have gone on forever. The people
who actually lived there were dirt farmers who worked the land for whichever master currently surrounded them with steel. One or two strongholds existed within Battling Plain itself, but none was able to dominate more than a small area. The tribes on the outskirts prospered on the excess production of the region, raiding and fighting each other, sacking any village that resisted, protecting those who knuckled under until the growing season was over. Next year, the same again. It sounded like chaos, and I wondered that no one group had ever emerged to control the region.

  “The tribes hate each other, and the keeps fear and hate the tribes."

  “The keeps?”

  “They say that there are old magics that surface in places that they call the keeps; some who are born in those places are blessed with a talent, a different talent for each keep.”

  “Like the Retreni?” I'd asked, sceptically.

  To my surprise, Dannat had agreed. “They are one such, the true Retreni are refugees from the ceaseless wars of the north. They dominated one of the smaller Gerrian tribes and that tribe became known as the Retreni. I can't remember what they were called before. But the true Retreni, the blood of the chieftain's household, they were shapeshifters from the north.”

  “What kind of magics, apart from the shapeshifters?”

  “Well, the Necromancers are surely one,” he had said.

  He went on to list a few more but I had stopped listening. I had thought the Necromancers were just priests, as Dubaku would say. Their power derived from spirits that they controlled. Doubtless the rest of these keeps were the same. After all, there were only two kinds of magic in the world, ours and spirit magic, and I knew from experience that the Necromancers were not rogue mages and that they did summon spirits.

  The pass followed the river for a couple of miles but stayed well clear as it cut deep and rough through the mountains, then turned away into a broad valley that was the northern end of the pass. Suddenly we were looking out over the region that surrounded Battling Plain. The landscape was bare and dry, low shrubs clinging to what little soil was in evidence. If this was typical of the region, it was no surprise that the competition for the one fertile area at its centre was so fierce.

  The trail broadened as the immediate terrain flattened out a little. The sun edged toward the horizon and my thoughts turned to worry over our next move. Now that we could ride side by side I moved alongside Dannat.

  “How far to Learneth?”

  “From here? A day's ride,” he pointed, “through this valley then up between those hills to the river on the far side.”

  I could clearly see the way. There was little cover and we had no real idea of how far behind us Ishal and his party were. I'd been obsessively checking our backtrail and seen no sign of them. If we let them follow on behind us as we were doing they would surely see us eventually and might make the connection. It was not something I wanted to risk. What little chance we had of taking them by surprise should be kept intact. I looked around, scouring the terrain and hoping for inspiration. The valley broadened our from here, the ground uneven, deeply cut in places, outcrops of rock pushed through the thin soil. There were places we could shelter from view and wait. Getting to any of those places was the problem; the ground was so rough away from the trail that any movement would be a slow business. The trail itself was a long slow switchback down into the valley bottom and across it in the direction Dannat had indicated. I could see damn near all of it, and if we were on it when Ishal reached this point he would see us for certain; he might not know it was us, but he would by now have guessed we were not behind him, especially if he had wasted time setting an ambush.

  “I would like to get off the trail and into cover, and let them pass us.”

  Sapphire glanced back at me. “And then attack them in the night as you originally planned?”

  I nodded. “I think it's the only way.”

  “Good,” Sapphire said.

  I wasn't sure how to take that so I let it pass.

  Sapphire stood in the saddle and scanned the terrain ahead of us, looking down the trail. “There,” he pointed. I looked and it didn't take more than a moment to see where a gully intersected the trail about a mile away. From here I could see into the gully itself; there were a few stunted trees but the fissure in the landscape narrowed and turned beyond them, its own wall providing cover from this vantage. If we were there we would be invisible from the trail. It would do, I decided, and said so.

  #

  Some plans are just designed to go wrong.

  It was dusk when Ishal and his company joined us in the gully, the clearest and most obvious choice of a place to camp for the night. Sapphire, who had been keeping watch, came back with the news.

  Luckily we were further back, around a corner, where the gully narrowed and a stream ran out of the hills and soaked into the ground amongst the stunted trees that were scattered thinly all the way to the trail. We were out of their immediate sight but with eight horses here, it was unlikely we would escape their attention for long. And if they needed water, well that would just hasten things along.

  “Three each,” Sapphire said, keeping his voice low.

  “You're going to attack them?” Dannat said.

  “What else?” he said. “Wait for them to attack us? It's dusk, they will be at a low ebb, preparing a camp, tending horses, scattered. It's time to act. No more thinking. Dubaku?”

  Dubaku nodded. “I'll do my part; the Necromancer will die if I can get to him.”

  Sapphire looked at me. Hell, what else were we to do? As he said, wait until they attacked us? I reached for my armor and started pulling it on, heart beating hard and fast. Maybe it was better this way, I thought. Better to just get it over with. Twelve of them; plus Ishal and Tahal, and I would be occupied keeping Tahal from casting. And I didn't have a shield or a helm; neither did Sapphire. Dannat did; I watched him strap on the helm, reach for the shield.

  “This isn't your fight,” I said. I had to say it; hell, it was true, and also true that we needed him. The odds were bad enough without him. I didn't see us coming out of this unscathed.

  “It is. He has my sisters.” He indicated the helm, which covered most of his face. “If he lives, he is unlikely to recognize me.” The shield was plain, absent of all insignia. He'd thought ahead that far, at least.

  “Ready?” Sapphire sounded impatient, eager to be about it.

  I drew my sword, the straight cavalry-length weapon my father had loaned me. Dannat's weapon was similar, though nowhere near as well crafted and absent of any magical enhancements. Sapphire slid the short sword he favored free of its scabbard and we were ready. Dubaku, I noticed, held only a knife. I hoped his spirits would prove their worth; sometimes, as he had said himself, they don't answer. I had to kill three men, I thought, that's all; it could be done, I had done it before. Just three. Fast, hard, merciless. Just three.

  We moved through the trees like ghosts, spread twenty feet apart, barely visible to each other in the failing light of dusk. I tried to re-capture the attitude I had learned from Sapphire; don't think, act, move, cut; get the blade into the enemy, anywhere, anyway you can. I didn't hesitate when I saw a figure ahead of me, gathering wood. He saw me, dropped his bundle and reached for his sword, at the same time opening his mouth to cry out. I was too fast, or he was too slow, it makes no difference which. Two running steps forward. The point is faster than the edge. I trust for his throat and his cry turned into a desperate gasp as he moved his head aside; I sawed back, cutting his neck, slicing back hard and deep, stopping myself from running into him, but still shouldering him aside. Hot blood spurted from the wound. Forget him; I didn't think it, just moved on, he was down and that was all I needed. I moved on, out of the line of trees. Moving fast, seeing everything and concentrating on nothing. There were three fires, several targets, many horses, already moving nervously and more aware than the men of the sudden danger. I headed for the nearest fire at a dead run; one man this side, not seeing me, two t
he other. The light was still good enough that they saw me, reached for weapons, cried out a warning. The man with his back to me turned; he wore chain, I saw, city make, probably looted from our dead. He didn't have time to clear a weapon, but ducked aside as I swung at him, not well enough; I changed the angle of my swing catching the back of his neck, blade biting deep. Maybe deep enough to kill, maybe not; I didn't stop to think but jumped the fire, swinging wildly, cringing inside at the proximity of the flames. Cries filled the air, several voices raised at once, each different and each the same in intent. I twisted in the air as one of the two men who faced me kept his cool and thrust hard for my middle; the turn was enough so that the blade touched me but ran harmless over the chain that protected my belly. Arm extended, balance compromised, he was helpless for the hard cut that hit him in the face. I didn't see where, just felt the impact as I landed, spun and stepped away, turning back to face the last of the three and swinging wildly as I did so. My blade rang on his, I didn't hesitate, just stepped in, controlled my blade and thrust. Tahal was beyond him, his arm thrust out. I countered the spell, whatever it might have been, leaping back from a wild swing that would have taken my head off. Both our stones were now useless for a moment or two. A moment or two that I needed. The warrior facing me stepped in and swung again, pressing his advantage. I'd lost it, lost the feel, lost momentum, lost the attitude; he was bigger, stronger, more experienced, and I retreated, stepping back, blocking or dodging blows, any one of which would have killed or maimed me. Tahal had cast around, realizing his spell was countered; he caught sight of me and shifted, angling to be able to cast at me without striking the man whose attacks were making me feel increasingly desperate. I caught sight of Jocasta, hands bound, watching me. Near her stood Ishal, robed in black, a shimmering figure in front of him, seeming to grow. Tahal stabbed his fist my way and I countered again, stepping rapidly back and into something firm yet yielding. Suddenly something impacted me hard in the back and I was thrown to the ground, distantly aware of a snort, a stamping of hooves. I rolled away, caught a glimpse of a sword stabbing down, point buried deep in the ground. Winded, I still reacted, up on one knee and thrusting over the useless weapon, my blade riding up the sleeve of the chain mail that should have protected his arm had my blade not by blind luck passed inside. He let go the sword with a hiss of pain and I was up, on my feet. He ran. Everyone seemed to be running, except me, and Jocasta. Our gazes locked for a second only and I saw the expression on her face; relief, joy. Beyond her, three figures were ahorse and fleeing; one in a black robe, a warrior and Tahal. I becoming aware of Sapphire, who was turning and taking in the scene; Dannat, standing over a fallen foe, gazing after the fleeing horsemen; Dubaku, seemingly wrestling with an ethereal figure wrapped around him. I watched, blinking, slightly dazed, seeing but not really understanding what was happening to him, and unable to help. What could I do? There was nothing, so I watched even as I began to move toward Jocasta, dividing my attention between them. It had been so easy, in the end. One short fight, some of our enemies killed, some fled, and Jocasta freed. I felt elated, even as I felt nervous about Dubaku's struggle, a struggle I could influence not one bit. He would live or die, succeed or fail by his own skill alone in whatever contest was actually occurring. Suddenly he crumpled boneless to the ground but the spirit, for that is clearly what it was, vanished. The night was still, apart from receding hoofbeats and Jocasta's voice.