Daffyd stood up, dropping a shower of pine needles and debris from his clothes. He extended his hand to pull her to her feet. Stiffly, she stretched her arms and stamped her feet to restore the circulation. He brought her the waterskin, now more than half-gone, and more dried food. She drank sparingly and handed the waterskin back.
"I think that it would be best if we started as soon as you are up to it, your grace," Daffyd informed her, his face grave. "They may check the bodies and, finding that you are not among them, begin searching for you. There may be trackers among them and our path will not be too difficult to follow."
"Which way shall we go?" she inquired, willing to continue placing her trust in his knowledge and judgment.
"I think that the first priority is to make sure that they have lost our track." He began to disburse the mound of needles, erasing the signs that they had been there. "Once we are reasonably certain that we have lost them, you can decide what you wish to do next." Agreeing with him, Hollin went to find and saddle Farion.
The horse was easy to catch, and seemed revived by his morning meal. Daffyd boosted Hollin into the saddle and they set forth again through the forest. The light grew brighter and the mist thinned, but it was still damp and cold. They stopped at a small rivulet that cut across the forest floor to drink, wash the grime off their faces and hands in the cold water and to refill the waterskin. Daffyd continued downhill, and after a couple of hours of the same thick forest growth, there was a thinning in the trees before them. A steep decline opened abruptly at their feet, and they descended in a switchback fashion to find a road at the bottom. The ruts from passing carts and hoof prints indicated farm vehicles, but the amount of grass growing on the road bespoke its infrequent use.
"I think that it would be best to follow this road for a time," Daffyd advised. "We are not too likely to meet anyone."
"Which direction; east or west?" she asked.
"That is up to you. If we go east there are more people and you might be able to get help from them to get back to Pentarin. However, east is also the way to the Slakestone Pass trail and in that direction there may be more of the soldiers that attacked us. Westwards, there are fewer people and the ground is rougher, but it would be the fastest way back to Langstraad," he finished.
She sat deep in thought, staring above his head to the tops of the trees. Dropping her gaze to her hands, she removed the glove from her right hand and held the ring before her. Its facets winked brightly at her as she contemplated it. She sat thus for many minutes while Daffyd stood patiently at her knee holding Farion's reins.
At last she looked down at him with an abstract expression on her face, rather as if she was looking at two separate scenes simultaneously. "The Slakestone Pass is not the only entrance to these mountains," she said enigmatically.
"No," he agreed, puzzled but beginning to guess at her thoughts.
"We will go west then."
"As you wish, your grace." He led Farion onto the road and halted. "Forgive me, your grace, but if we are being tracked, they are following a horse being led. If you have no objections, I suggest that I ride with you for a ways; it might help to confuse pursuit."
"Move the rear saddlebags forward and you can ride behind me," she replied. He moved the bags and, using the stirrup she had kicked free, he pulled himself up behind her. Farion flicked his ears back inquiringly but did nothing untoward. Responding to his mistress' voice and rein, the horse headed west on the road.
They rode in this fashion for several miles in jittery apprehension. The quiet of any moment could be shattered by the pounding hooves of the enemy's horses in deadly pursuit. Even a farmer on his way to or from market could be dangerous to their safety. Farion continued to move willingly but, after several hours, he began to show signs of weariness in his lowered head and the sweat marks on his neck and flanks. Neither Hollin nor Daffyd spoke much as they rode together. Both were tired, hungry, dispirited and preoccupied with their own thoughts: Hollin, concerned with the threat to Pentarin brought on by this treachery and what she must do; and Daffyd, planning how to escape pursuit and secure food and shelter for them that evening.
By afternoon, they came to the edge of a forest and saw smoke rising from the chimneys of a tiny village. They stopped well within the cover of the trees to avoid detection by the inhabitants, and to discuss their next moves. Nothing and no one had been seen or heard as they traveled, and they were beginning to hope that any attempt at pursuit had been foiled. Riding off the road, they found a good spot behind a clump of bracken where they could talk and observe the village below. Knowing that going together into the village would excite much comment, Hollin having the unmistakable bearing and clothing of a high-born lady despite the dirt and tears of the last twenty-four hours, it was decided that Daffyd would go into the village by himself as an itinerant musician and storyteller. He was well suited for the role and, since such entertainers were uncommon but not unheard of back in these hills, the village would most likely be well disposed to receive him. The main danger that Daffyd could forsee would be in getting free of the villagers before nightfall.
Leaving the duchess seated in a clearing surrounded by trees and bracken, well off the road and wrapped in her riding cloak with his sword at her knee and the horse grazing peacefully nearby, Daffyd took his flute and set off for the village. In order to avert suspicion, in case rumour of the ambush had leaked out, Daffyd traveled west, keeping under cover, until he was well past the village. Returning to the road, he walked back in the direction from which he had just come.
The village was indeed a tiny one, just a few houses collected alongside the road. A solitary stranger excited immediate comment and Daffyd found himself surrounded by children and dogs as he wandered close to the houses. The smell of hearthfires and animals filled his nostrils. A few women peeped out of their doorways at him, curious but reserved. A burly man of late years hailed him from the stone fence on which he sat. Amiably, Daffyd stopped and exchanged pleasantries with the man.
"Name? This village ain't got one. It be too small, dinna ye see." The man had a jovial voice.
Daffyd explained that he was a storyteller on his way to Durstede and asked whether he could buy any provisions in the village as he was almost out.
"A storyteller, aye?" The man's face lit up. "Why dinna ye say so to begin with? 'Twill be easy enough for ye to sing for yourn supper here, and breakfast too, no doubt." The man rubbed his hands together and spoke to one of the lingering children, "Go tell yourn Ma to be settin' another place, a sing-song man be passin' through."
"I'd be happy to sing you a song or spin a story for you, but I must be on my way before nightfall. I've to meet a man in Durstede and I'm late as it is. If I could just purchase some bread and cheese..."
The man nimbly hopped down from his perch, genially grasped Daffyd by the arm and began guiding him down the road towards the largest of the houses. "Ye must break bread wi' us for a bit. Sure and yourn feet could do with a rest as well. Ye come with me, my man, and we'll feed ya well." Powerless to resist without giving great offense, Daffyd allowed himself to be swept along by the populace, who had turned out of their own homes when they saw him being propelled by one of their leading citizens. He walked up a short path and was ushered deferentially into a long, low room by his host's wife. Thereafter, an astonishing number of people crushed their way into the room after him.
He was seated at a table and food and drink miraculously appeared in front of him; plain but wholesome and welcome in his near ravenous state. He ate as well as he could while answering the many questions about what was happening elsewhere in the world. He told them an abbreviated tale of his wanderings, adding colour and spice when he could. No one had heard of the Duchess of Langstraad's quest for the missing prince, so he told them what he dared about it. They, in turn, let fall the interesting information that their overlord, Lord Brescom, had been practicing clandestine military maneuvers in the least habited portions of his province.
After he had eaten and drunk as much as he dared, Daffyd pulled out his flute and played for them. This was followed by requests for tales and so he stood and recited several long, involved ballads that he had first learned at his uncle's house. There were shouts of approval and filling of his cup and he continued to play his flute and tell stories.
It was with a start that he realized that the sun was low in the west. Leaving the gathered host was as difficult as he had imagined it would be. They were very reluctant to let go of their entertainment and were vociferous in entreating him to stay. When he made it clear that he was adamant in his intent of traveling on, they made a packet of food up for him, for which they refused payment. He set out on his way with calls of good wishes and thanks following him. A few children and a couple of men who had more of their home-brewed ale than was advisable in their stomachs trailed after him, but these he rapidly out-distanced and they were soon left behind. Once he had traveled as far down the road as was prudent, he doubled back through the trees to where the duchess still waited for him.
Chapter 10
Climbing through the bracken in the dimming light, Daffyd pitched into the clearing and was suddenly confronted by the business end of his own sword, held in deadly earnest by the duchess. As soon as she recognized him she let fall the point, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that if he had not been a friend, he would have not been alive much longer. A quick vision of the duchess' dispatching of his assailant with her dagger the previous afternoon flashed through his mind. She reported that the afternoon had been quiet with no one passing near the hiding place. Sitting down together in the deep bracken, Daffyd opened his pack and brought forth the food his hosts had pressed on him. In her own well-bred fashion, Hollin eagerly devoured the simple fare provided.
As she ate, Daffyd gave her all of the information he had gleaned in the village. They knew nothing of the doings in Pentarin, let alone anything of the royal embassy traveling through their land. Comments about their earl had been discreet but he sensed no dislike or distrust of Lord Brescom by the villagers. Telling her of the military activities that the earl had supposedly been practicing of late brought a keen, speculative look to the young woman's face. Lastly, he informed her of a larger village to the west of this one, almost a town according to his informants, where more provisions might be purchased and fewer questions asked.
"It all depends on what your grace intends to do next," he said on finishing his recitation.
Hollin flicked the crumbs out of her lap and looked above Daffyd's head at the mountains, their sun-tipped peaks rising above the forest, now immersed in the dusk. The chill of evening seemed to exude from the ground beneath her and the trees that surrounded them. "Do you think that we are safe here for the night?"
He shook his head. "No, we're too close to the village. My suggestion would be to travel on a ways, past the village, then we can turn off the road and find a sheltered spot where we can light a fire."
Hollin nodded and stood up. "I feel much more fit for traveling after being fed, thank you. Lead on and I shall follow." She whistled softly and was rewarded by Farion's head poking through the underbrush.
They traveled quickly and quietly back to the road, picking it up again on the far side of the village and, riding together on the horse, continued westward. When the last stain of sunset left the sky and the stars had begun to burn, Daffyd directed them off the road and back to a rough shelter, a matter of three walls with a roof that he had seen signs of from the road. Built to accommodate occasional shepherds and poor travelers, it was stocked with wood and had a firepit of smooth stones at the opening. Wooden benches lining the interior walls of the shelter made hard but dry beds. Lighting a small fire for warmth, they took turns watching and sleeping through the night.
In the morning, after splashing water on her face and partaking of yesterday's leavings, Hollin bade Daffyd to listen to the plans she had made for the immediate future. "It's obvious that the quest has been betrayed," she began. "I don't know how our disappearance is to be explained by those who devised it, but their motives are clear. With the best chance of bringing back the prince destroyed and myself dead, the way is cleared to begin a civil war. My choices are limited. I can try to return to Pentarin and let them know of the massacre. A new expedition might even be raised, but to do so would take much time and I do not doubt that my enemies would use that time and strike at me again.
"Another possibility is to ride south and west, eventually returning to Langstraad where I could send my messages to Pentarin and prepare for the coming assault behind my own barricades. I might hold Langstraad, but the Pentarchy would still be broken.
"My last choice, and I have thought long on this, is to continue on my own with the quest to find Prince Brian. Only the prince can stop the disunion that is about to take place." She paused and rubbed her hands together for warmth. “It may be a fool’s errand in the end, but I must at least attempt it.
"One thing I would ask of you though, as you value the union of the Pentarchy and your allegiance to both House Treves and the prince: make your way back to Lord Percamber in Pentarin and let him know all of what has happened."
Daffyd's clear hazel eyes met hers resolutely. "When I came to your grace's tent at Durstede, you accepted my pledge of fealty. I have tried through the last terrible days to do all in my power to preserve and honour that pledge..."
"You have done that and more," she interrupted swiftly. "Without your aid, I should have been slain along with everyone else. You have been a true and faithful companion Daffyd ap Blewyns, and I thank you for it. "
"Hear me out, your grace," he pleaded, raising his hand to stop her. "If you intend to continue with your journey, then I beg you to allow me to accompany you. As you have seen, I know something of woodcraft from my days in my uncle's house. What you wish to attempt may entail many weeks of travel though the wilderness of the mountains. I can help you to travel in safety through them. I do not know where the prince is or how you intend to find him, but I can keep you alive while you do."
He paused and she sat regarding him, pleased yet puzzled by his declaration. "Why? Why do you wish to continue from one peril into another, possibly greater one, when I have given you leave, indeed asked you, to return to Pentarin?"
"I have given you my pledge; I do not wish to turn from it when it is no longer easy or comfortable." A faint flush of colour rose in his cheeks. "My existence recently has been in the hands and at the whim of others. To be honest, it is only in the last two days, perilous though they have been, that I have begun to feel of some use. Those in Pentarin will know soon enough of the tragedy. I ask you to let me come with you so that I might lend my strength and knowledge to your quest." He spoke eloquently and with a candour that awoke Hollin's sympathy and her respect.
Reflecting on what he had accomplished for them already, she responded with a look of gratitude. "Willingly will I accept your aid and your company. You have brought us safely thus far; together we may yet reach the prince."
Eye to eye, they sat assessing each other as if newly met, as perhaps they were. "Where do you wish to go and when?" Daffyd asked at length, with a note of tough practicality.
"We must turn north and enter the mountains very soon," she replied, echoing his pragmatic tone. "This ring I wear is an heirloom of House Sandovar and resonates to the life-energies of Prince Brian. Do you know what an arcane trance is?"
He nodded. "Both my Lord and Lady de Chantalcalm were arcane adepts. I know something of arcane objects."
"I use this ring as a focus when I am in trance and it acts as a sort of internal compass. It is hard to put into words but I can sense where I must go to find him."
"How specific is this "compass-effect"? Does it show you roads to take or just whether you are getting closer or moving further away?"
"Both to some extent. When we started up the Slakestone Pass I knew that we were traveling in the right direction but I did not "see" the road in my mind. While
you were in the village yesterday, I had time to work with the ring and have seen a way into the mountains further west that will take us where we need to go."
"Do you know where it is that we are going, or how far it is that we must go?"
"I am fairly certain that our way lies to the north and west, towards those mountains known as the Pillars of the Sky."
Daffyd rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "In that case, I would suggest that we continue west on this road until we come to the next village. There we can purchase the provisions that we will need to see us through the mountains."
They set out again, riding double on Farion's back as the morning sun climbed into the sky. When they reached the road, Daffyd dismounted to walk beside her, keeping alert for any other travelers on the road. Once, when he heard a wagon coming towards them, they quickly scrambled off to the side of the road, hiding deep in the trees until it had passed. Eventually the trees thinned and the road began to descend until, coming over a small rise, they looked down on the cluster of buildings of a town surrounded by tilled fields. Much larger than the previous village, it was criss-crossed with streets and, even from where they stood, they could hear voices and see many people moving about. As before, a hiding place was found for Hollin and Farion far off the road, while Daffyd went to assay the village.
Night had fallen and Hollin, hungry and cold, had begun to wonder what had befallen her companion when Daffyd finally returned. He was tired and his face was drawn as he sat down and laid a large bundle at her feet. Not speaking, Hollin fetched him a cup of water from the spring that she and Farion had discovered while he was away. He thanked her and took a deep drink, smothering a cough when some of the water went down his windpipe.
"The earl's men have been riding the road, asking about a red-haired woman," he told her as he reached into the bundle and handed her some of the food he had obtained. "The men are not saying who the woman is, only that the earl wishes to find her and is offering a handsome reward to her finder."
The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups Page 16