They chose a way through the trees that was not the easiest path, but would escape detection. A distant noise worried them for some time, and they cautiously continued forward. The source of the noise became evident as an encampment came into view. Considering the size of the camp on the valley floor, Keldron was surprised to see a gathering of people easily half as big again. They ghosted closer, using the trees as cover. For as far as they could see, armed men camped, some in tents, and some just laying around, using trees to rest against. Appalled, Joleen stared at the misuse of the forest. Trees had been felled for convenience, and left where they had fallen. A scabrous patch of daylight burst in where the living canopy should have been. Moving slowly, so as not to attract attention, Keldron hugged Joleen as much as he could, considering the situation. “Do they not understand what they have done?”
The idle mercenaries lounged as if they had no care in the world, but Keldron knew from the awareness spread by the forest heart that this was a place of woe. “I do not think you could ever make them understand. I did not understand until I came to you in the valley. To these people it is but a fuel, or an inconvenience that needs clearing out of the way. They have no idea, nor would probably care that they are harming something more than a few trees. These people never followed the old Law, or they would not do this.”
Distress at the misuse of the forest moulded into a resolute anger as Joleen looked upon the camp. “I will make them understand what it is to do this to the forest.” As Joleen moved to enter the camp, Keldron held her fast. She tried to struggle, but then gave up and sagged limply against him.
“What good will it do you to go out there?” Keldron asked, as he looked into a face wan with the admission of defeat. “You cannot do anything to that many men. If you were to enter that camp, any number of things could happen to you, each more dreadful than the last. I know I have not known you very long, Jo, but I would rather have you healthy and whole than diced and sliced by that lot.”
This brought her attention back to him. Smiling slightly she sighed and slumped against the tree concealing them. “So what do we do? I am the person who knows the forest best, yet I find myself turning to you for guidance.”
Keldron looked at the size of the encampment. Even spread throughout the trees it seemed immense. “We will have to edge around the camp. But I suggest we back off some – staying this close will only increase our chances of being noticed. I suppose that since we have to go that way anyway, we should go to the east.”
Keldron reached to help Joleen to her feet. Pulling herself up using his weight she groaned with the exertion. “I wouldn't recommend that way – the cliffs continue to a point and then an incredibly steep slope. I know it would take us a lot longer to go around, and we might get caught, but the way west is much safer. Still, it looks like we must take some risks now, or we are never going to catch up with the others, so lead on.”
Convinced that Joleen was sure of his decision, Keldron led the way back into the forest and away from the encampment, still worried why it was there in the first place. Keldron soon forgot about it when Joleen shoved him face first into some bushes, without any warning. About to protest in alarm, he found Joleen's hand placed firmly over his mouth to keep him quiet. Shifting slightly so that the brambles caught on his leg were less painful, he twisted to see Joleen staring out of their hiding place. The reason she did this was soon evident, as a slow shuffling sound emanated out of the near silence that was the forest. Keldron could feel that Joleen was tense, coiled ready to spring at whomever was out there. He could do nothing about that though. Her weight, considerably less as it was, was still enough to hold him in this awkward position. In a flash she had jumped, and by the sounds of it, knocked whomever it was flying as a result. Keldron jumped to his feet as quickly as the net of brambles allowed, cursing, as he seemed to trap himself even more.
Eventually pulling free and leaving a fair portion of his robe behind, he escaped the briar patch to find Joleen tying a bandage tight around the arm of a colossus. Malcolm nodded a greeting as Keldron recognised him, but did not speak. His face was bruised, and he had lacerations along both of his arms, no doubt caused by some type of blade. From the look of him, he seemed to have been in quite a fight. Keldron was about to comment on this, but Malcolm pre-empted him. “Later, wizard. I will tell you all if we escape this.”
The monotonous tone made Keldron's stomach sink. Something was not right. “What is it?”
Malcolm clambered to his feet, and stared back from where he had come. “The mercenaries are on their way back. They have done whatever it was they had to do, and are only a half league behind me at best. I trust you were trying for the east?” At a reply of nods, Malcolm grunted his approval. “So be it. We are nearly surrounded as it is.”
Malcolm led the way, relieving Keldron of the role he had assumed during Joleen's indecisiveness. Keldron was thankful for this, for he did not know this forest at all. Fearful of using his focus stone to mask their presence, he gripped it tightly nonetheless. With the talk of wizards and the strange presence that had yet to be explained, he trusted to the ways of the forest tribe. Malcolm seemed unperturbed by all that was happening, and led the way as quickly as he could. Keldron and Joleen hurried to keep up, sparing many a moment for furtive glances around them. Gnarled roots conspired to tangle their feet at the most awkward of times. Not always looking where he was going, Keldron found himself tripping, and would have seriously injured himself had Joleen not grabbed him on more than one occasion.
The early twilight let in by the trees only managed to highlight the mist that was slowly forming throughout the area. If ever such a gentle place could be described as hostile, then now was the perfect time. The bark of trees became slippery with the condensing moisture; cold seemed to seep from everywhere into Keldron's bones. The dimming light made the flight through the forest all the more precarious, and it was only a miracle that Keldron stayed upright. They hurried through bushes and around the denser patches of trees, having to double back. All the while the sense of unease grew stronger with Keldron. It was only his training that allowed him to keep his mind on the job at hand and not continually stare back. Straining his ears for any type of a sound, the quiet forest revealed nothing to him. He realised that the mist would most likely muffle any stray sound.
Wiping the dank hair from in front of his eyes, he strained to see ahead into the murk. If there was going to be a change in the land before the drop, he had seen no sign of it. Upon hearing just a whisper of something from far off, he found that Malcolm had stopped. The big man had his eyes closed, and his head tipped to one side slightly. “They are nearly upon us, but do not worry for we are there.”
Keldron edged around the massive Malcolm to peer ahead, and found the ground just dropped away from him. The trees continued exactly as they had on level land, but grew all the more massive for the relative lack of competition on the steep slope. “At least we will have something to hold onto on the way down,” he quipped.
“You go first, Keldron, and take Joleen. I will follow and keep any of the more determined souls away from us.
In the dim twilight, the slippery, brown leaf litter made the way a little dangerous for the slowly descending trio. Keldron found himself drawn towards the areas where the trees were thinner, enabling him to make best use of the light. He realised that the direct consequences were mixed as a result of this action; he had less chance of falling, but those above were more likely to see them, and haste was what was needed now. Fortunately though, the lack of traffic through this part of the forest meant that the slopes were rough and uneven, making the descent all the easier for them, not that it was noticeable.
Keldron hurried as much as he physically could – though the lack of exercise by a man used to sitting in a huge building reading texts was clearly beginning to show. Not a great way down the slope, the soil thinned, and tree cover became very sparse. Eventually, the soil became intermixed with boulders, and pa
tches of scree. Pausing to rest his aching legs behind a large boulder, which was covered with a dank green patch of years-old moss, Keldron looked back up the slope. Joleen was close behind, but Malcolm was still some ways distant, fighting something. Keldron started to scramble back up the slope, but Joleen managed to grab his leg. “What are you doing?” he demanded of her. “We have to help him!”
“Keldron, you heard what Malcolm said to us – keep going, no matter what. If anyone can handle themselves it is him.” Looking back up the slope, Malcolm already had one man lying limp on the ground, but others were coming down. The shouts of triumph of those who had hounded him so far built, as more attempted to brave the slope in the rapidly dimming light.
“Joleen, I'm going to help him somehow,” Keldron announced. “If you won't go back up there with me then at least I can even the odds from here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm going to create a barrier between them and the others.” Keldron stepped out from behind the boulder, and finding as firm a footing as he could, clasped his marble focus stone and closed his eyes in concentration. From Joleen's point of view, she could only see results as the magician stepped out of the boulder's protection and closed his eyes. Peering up the slope, the dim light gave her a minimal view of Malcolm's fight. She had known for years that he fought with amazing speed for his size, and yet it was almost a blur. The man left standing was also quick, the knives in his hands presenting a deadly risk.
The dim shapes in the background gradually materialised into the forms of other mercenaries as they bounded down the slope. The foremost of these was yelling in a language Joleen had never heard, his voice distinct amongst the far away clamour. Shrill yelps and curses pierced the quiet gloom of the forest as he charged down the hill. In his eagerness, the man obviously didn't care for his personal safety, catching his foot on some undergrowth. He stumbled mid-stride and tumbled screaming in pain down the hill. With nothing in his way, he picked up speed until he just stopped. Joleen thought it was a trick of the light until the howling man got up and tried to continue. Screaming dark curses down the hill at them, he hammered with his sword at an invisible barrier.
Shortly, the rest of the pursuers arrived, hitting the same invisible wall. After a moment's shock, they all attacked the unseen obstacle in a rage. Their quarry so close and yet completely elusive, they yelled and cursed still using words Joleen had never before heard. Malcolm glanced up as he despatched the last of his attackers, and then continued on his way down. Joleen looked across at Keldron, who stood admiring his handiwork. He smiled back at her. “They won't be able to come past that line in the hill for a good league either side.”
“How long will it last?” Joleen asked.
Keldron considered the point for a minute, as if the line of howling fanatics weren't even there. Stroking his chin with his hand he mulled it over. “It depends really. I have never found much use for a barrier focus other than for doing menial tasks. The small ones we used at the order could last as long as you wanted, but the size of this one is immense. I'd say we have a day or perhaps less before it dissipates. Much less if the entire army leans its weight upon it.”
Malcolm stopped just up the slope from Keldron's position. Looking up at him, Keldron saw him as a child might; believing instantly the tales Joleen had told him about Malcolm's prowess in battle. The big man nodded. “My thanks, wizard.”
“My pleasure,” replied Keldron as he bowed. The shale underfoot did not feel so steady as he righted himself. “I think we had better move. It is precarious enough here without thinking about those howling madmen up there.
Malcolm turned, and in a rare moment of humour in the desperate situation, waved jauntily at the armour-clad mercenaries. This had the desired effect, causing them to redouble their efforts at breaking through the focus, cursing and spitting all the while. Joleen had not looked up the slope though; she was staring at Keldron's feet. Noticing this, Keldron looked around him. What he had previously thought of as a stable rock platform was actually moving slightly over the shale underneath. Keldron steadied himself to jump, and as he crouched, Joleen shouted, “NO!”
Too late to stop himself, his legs fell from under him, but instead of jumping to safety, he added to the momentum of the slab. It shot away from under his feet, and left him unbalanced on a surface that might as well have been liquid for all the good it did him. Keldron panicked, and with good cause. His legs churned as he tried to get some sort of foothold. In a last desperate attempt to grab him, Joleen reached out. Keldron lunged for her outstretched arm but his weight and fitness conspired against him. He crashed onto the shale, which rapidly became a landslide.
Desperately clutching his stone, Keldron tried to concentrate and focus another barrier, but he simply was not able. He watched the disappearing Joleen and Malcolm as he shot off down the slope, crashing into whatever was in his way. Curling to protect himself, his head struck a rock, the throb of pain leaving him dazed and barely conscious. He found it surreal that he was moving so fast and he barely noticed when the wind was knocked out of him after he hit something huge and solid. All he could think of as he lost consciousness was the fact that he had finally stopped.
Chapter Eight
Zya sulked. There was no other way of putting it. Despite her blossoming into young womanhood, and all the apparent maturity that went with it, she could sulk as good as anyone when she put her mind to it, and today, she felt like sulking.
The town of Boarsrushflow was days behind them as they steadily moved North and West along the slowly winding river. It had proved unfruitful in the search for Erilee, and that was the base of Zya's unreasonable mood. She had endured the week or so of mandatory work the tanners and dyers had for them – Boarsrushflow was full of little else; a town based almost wholly on the industry of catching and processing various parts of the swine the hunters caught in the extensive reaches of the boar wood – spending a very smelly week repairing over-used knives and tanning implements. While outwardly she had appeared pleasant and willing to do whatever was asked of her, underneath, Zya was boiling over with the frustration of not actively searching for Erilee.
It had not helped much that she couldn't extract a whiff of information from the townspeople. They were too concerned about their own goings on to care about two unseemly appearing characters and a girl. They had not even heard about O'Bellah, much less cared who he was. More fool them, Zya had thought after one old matron had self-importantly declared that the leagues of forest would protect them from any would-be tyrant. Zya had sensed the disruption caused in Hoebridge. It spiralled out from the base of the mysterious O'Bellah. She sensed it slowly creeping towards this place, and she had wished to leave. Such people had not wished to hear her warnings; they wouldn't take anything she had to say seriously. It appeared that unless you had grey hair or a beard in that place, nobody cared.
Zya had also wanted to range out around their chosen route, to see if any sign could be found of Erilee and her captors. Upon hearing Zya's request, the mistress had instantly forbidden any such thing. The worst thing was that although everybody sympathised with her need to be actively doing something, she could not find anyone who would speak on her behalf. Layric had looked at his wife and sighed, and her father had consoled her, but it was not enough. Venla would not risk the safety of anyone else in the caravan, and had told her so in no uncertain terms. So as far away as she could reasonably be without incurring Venla's wrath, Zya moped on Red. He sensed her discomfort, and rolled his eyes as he attempted to glean what it was his rider wanted of him. But Zya persisted with her self-imposed bad mood.
Back in the body of the caravan, Tarim rode his stallion alongside Layric's wagon. The creak of the wooden frame accompanied the ebbing flow of the breeze through willows on the riverbank. As they slowly plodded on, Layric hummed a tune about the bounty of the river under his breath, all the time watching out for Zya. Occasionally, one of his hounds would jump up for a scratch beh
ind the ears, but they were generally left free to range about the caravan. Tarim followed one of the hound's progress in hunting a river -hen. The small black bird was completely unaware of the russet dog creeping up behind it on the riverbank. Getting closer, the dog let out an involuntary growl as it excitedly drew near. Scared into flight, the hen squawked, and took to the wing. The dog pounced a moment too late, landing with a great deal of splashing and stood there in the shallows, looking back at them dejectedly. That brought a round of laughter from all watching.
“Bad luck, boy,” called out Layric, good-naturedly. If the dog could have looked embarrassed it would have. Instead, it got back to pouncing on polliwogs that skittered around the shallows of the river. Layric noticed Tarim to be quiet. As always, he was watching his daughter. “Do you think she will snap out of it soon?
Tarim laid his hands on the pommel of his saddle and leaned back comfortably. “She knows she is right, and she knows we know she is right. She is just impatient to do more. Define 'proactive', and somewhere in that definition you will find Zya. The problem is that she has learnt what you taught her well, and can argue every facet of the old law.”
“Venla feels that the quickest route is not through making rash decisions, my friend. The path you wish to follow most often is the one that leads you astray.” As he often did, Layric managed to work one of the adages taught to all those who followed the one law into a sentence.
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 26