Dhal was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. “Do you think anyone will follow us?”
“Only time will answer that, but don’t worry about it now. Close your eyes and sleep. We’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
Dhal woke to the sound of voices. Next to him, Ssaal-lr was breathing easily, still sound asleep. Haradan and Pocalina were sitting side by side in the doorway, silhouetted in the early morning light. Poco was beautiful, her features accented by the morning shadows.
“… and so that is why we had to leave the Deep,” Haradan was saying. “His gift is beyond my understanding. I don’t think Dhal even understands how it works. He just seems to ‘know’ how to heal.”
“You love him though he is not your own,” she said. “I can hear it in your voice when you talk about him.”
“You have your own gifts, Pocalina-fel-Jamba. I think you two are well matched.”
“Matched?”
“You love him, don’t you?”
Suddenly another form appeared in the doorway. For a moment Dhal did not know who it was, then Efan spoke. “We tried to follow the glowing lights, sir,” he said to Haradan, “but they disappeared too quickly. Do you want us to keep looking?”
“No, it’s almost daylight. We’ll be leaving soon.”
“What do you think the lights were?” Efan asked.
Haradan did not answer for a minute. “Ghosts perhaps, but more likely it was some night creature, such as a veegar moth which lures other insects near by producing a flickering light in its tail.”
“But these lights didn’t flicker, sir, and they were larger than any insect would produce.”
“I know. I saw them. I was just making a comparison.”
“It wasn’t a veegar moth then,” Poco said.
“No.”
“Then what?”
Haradan shrugged and stood up. “You said the village was haunted.”
“Do you really think those lights were some kind of ghost?” Efan asked seriously.
“Anything is possible, Efan, but until we know for sure let’s not frighten ourselves with untested theories. Anyway, we’ll be leaving soon. If the lights we saw were ghosts, they should be satisfied with our departure.”
Chapter 21
AT EARLY LIGHT, THEY LEFT THE ABANDONED FISHING VILLAGE and followed the river north, into the foothills. Because Ssaal-Ir was weak from the loss of blood, their pace was slow with many stops to rest.
The derkat had been startled to wake and find himself whole once more. But for a patch of missing fur on his shoulder and a swelling around his one eye, Screech looked quite normal. It was Poco who explained to him how his healing had taken place. Whether or not the derkat fully understood all that had happened to him, he accepted his miraculous return to health in silence, his yellow eyes studying his healer with a calmness Dhal found unsettling.
Night closed in. They sheltered back in the trees beside the river. They had hoped that whoever followed them would give up upon reaching Sar-ruel, but a speck of firelight in the hills below signaled that such was not the case.
Poco turned to Dhal, frowning. “How did they find our trail so quickly?”
“Does it matter?” Dhal said, turning away. “Somehow they’ve followed us, and it means that they aren’t ready to give up.”
“What do we do now?” Poco asked Haradan.
Haradan pulled out Donar’s map and laid it in front of them. Carefully pointing out the way, he said, “If we cross the river here and go east toward this mountain pass, then north, we should gain time and, if we’re lucky, we might just lose those who follow us. It’s entirely possible that they have the same map we do, but if we’re careful not to leave them any sign of our choice of trails, they’ll probably take the one that stays west of the river and, we hope, not learn of their mistake until it’s too late. Even if they continue on and try to cut us off where the two trails merge, we should arrive at least a week ahead of them. A quick run to Janchee, then on to Port Sulta.”
“You make it sound easy,” Poco said, studying the map. “But from all I’ve ever heard about these mountains, no man or party of men has used these trails in a long time. There must be a reason. I think that whichever trail we take, our passage will not be easy.”
Haradan looked up. “Dhal?”
“I was thinking about those who follow us. I can’t understand what drives them. Will nothing but my death satisfy them?”
“Don’t talk that way!” Poco snapped.
“She’s right,” Haradan agreed quickly. “There’s no good in talking of death. We’re all alive and healthy, thanks to you, and if we keep our heads and don’t panic, we’ll come out of this.”
Efan remained silent.
Late the next morning they forded the river, linked one to another by rope that Haradan had found in one of the abandoned homes in Sar-ruel. The river was wide but shallow, except for a narrow channel on the far side where they were forced to swim. Gi-arobi rode Dhal’s shoulder all the way, whistling encouragement as they plunged into the deep water.
Haradan was the first across. He was followed by Poco, then Ssaal-lr, then Efan. Dhal was the last to cross and was thankful for the towline around his chest, for the water was swift in the channel and for every stroke forward he floated three or four downstream.
They were able to keep their packs reasonably dry by carrying them over their heads until they reached the channel, then throwing them across to the other riverbank. All but one reached the shore safely; the other was lost to the current.
They were thankful that the air was warm, for they dared not delay to dry their clothes. At noon they stopped to rest and eat, then they were climbing once more. Ssaal-lr took the lead. In the late afternoon, Dhal looked back to see Efan struggling up a narrow trail between two large boulders. The boy’s face was red, and Dhal knew he needed to rest.
A little farther uphill Dhal managed to catch Haradan’s attention and called for a halt. Everyone was grateful for the stop. After sharing water from one of the hide flagons Haradan carried, they sat and talked, eyes directed at the climb still ahead of them. The trail was all but obscured in places, overgrown with trees and bushes. Ahead the ground rose steeply. Large boulders scattered here and there showed signs of a recent rock slide. Haradan cautioned his companions to watch their footing when they started out again.
Dhal turned to talk to Efan. But a sudden growling noise alerted him. He looked up to find Ssaal-lr perched on a large rock slab to his right, pointing downtrail. In a moment Dhal had scrambled up to join the derkat. Haradan was right behind him.
“Damn,” Haradan muttered. “How did they know?”
Dhal had no answer. Staring at the small specks of black that were crossing the river, Dhal felt a moment or two of panic. Then he remembered the long hard hours of climbing that separated them from the river valley, and his heart slipped back into place.
Haradan slid down from the rock. “They must have an excellent tracker with them. I was sure we left no tracks.”
“What’s wrong?” Efan wanted to know.
“We’re still being followed,” Haradan answered. “Come on, pick up the packs. We’ve got to keep moving.”
Accepting the news in silence, Efan looked at Dhal, then turned to do Haradan’s bidding. Dhal helped the boy with his pack. “They’re far behind us, Efan. No need to worry. They’ll get tired of all this soon enough. We have nothing they want. Revenge can’t drive them forever.”
“What if it isn’t revenge they want?”
“What else could it be?”
“A reward?” Efan said softly.
“You mean a bounty?”
“That, or some other kind of reward. Isn’t it possible?”
“It would have to be an awfully large reward to draw so many men. I have a feeling there’s something else at work here, something that we’ve overlooked. I can’t explain it, but it’s there.”
Efan looked at him strangely, his expression sudd
enly unreadable. For a second Dhal thought Efan was going to say something, but then Haradan interrupted.
“Come on, let’s move. You can talk later.”
It was their sixth night in the mountains. They were all tired. Twice the first day they saw their pursuers far below, then the trees grew taller and thicker and they lost sight of them. Whenever they came to a fork in the trail, they were careful to obscure all marks of passage.
They chose their campsite prudently that night, using a tall rock ledge to guard their backs. Before them burned two fires. For the last three nights they had been plagued by gensvolf— bold, long-legged, sharp-fanged creatures that slipped up on a camp as quietly as windseed in spring.
Dhal looked across the fire and saw Pocalina watching him. She smiled, her eyes bright, her expression mischievous. “What are you thinking, Dhal?”
Forgetting the gensvolf, he turned his thoughts to Poco and the love he had been unable to express until that moment. Perhaps now is the time, he thought. He returned her smile. “I am thinking that you are quite beautiful.”
Tilting her head in a nod of casual acceptance, Poco’s smile widened. “And is that all that you are thinking?”
“At the moment, yes.”
Dhal heard Haradan chuckle and turned to look at him. He was sitting near one of the fires massaging his legs. Sometimes Dhal forgot that Haradan was that much older than the rest of them; the climbing must have been hard on him.
Haradan winked at Poco. “Have a care, Singer. You are the first woman he has ever really known and I think he’s in love with you.”
Poco’s smile faded as her blue eyes fastened on Dhal. “True, Dhal?”
Dhal nodded, unable to speak.
For long moments she just looked at him, then she came to kneel in front of him. Leaning forward, she kissed him, her hands pulling his head up. As he reached out to draw her closer, she released him and sat back on her heels, her smile gone.
“It’s said that love is a gift from the gods, Dhalvad sar Haradan, but it is also said that love is a form of madness. It’s long been my belief that waiting brings wisdom and patience builds strong bonds. I want you to know that I am your friend— and more than friend if you would like—but stay uncommitted until you are sure it is what you want.”
“And if I say that I am sure?”
A warm smile lighted Poco’s face. “Then I say that you won’t easily be rid of me, Green One.”
“What was that?” Haradan asked, unable to hear those last whispered words.
“Never mind,” Dhal said, pulling Poco to a seat beside him. “I’ll tell you later—maybe.”
Dhal had first watch that night. Gi-arobi followed, then came Haradan, Poco, and Ssaal-lr. Efan was the last one on watch. When Dhal woke at morning light, he saw Efan seated between the two fires, carving on a small branch. His fingers moved nimbly; the pattern he was working on looked quite intricate. Dhal watched him for a few minutes.
Finally Dhal got up, rolled his blanket, then went over to the fires. Efan looked up. “All quiet,” he said. “Should I call the others?”
“I’ll do that,” Dhal said. “You freshen one of the fires and start some water boiling.”
Efan nodded and put down the piece of wood he was carving.
“What are you making?” Dhal asked, bending down to pick up the branch.
“Nothing.” Grabbing the branch before Dhal could look at it, Efan stuck it into the fire. Dhal watched the wood burn, then turned and looked at the boy.
“It wasn’t any good,” Efan explained, as he picked up several more sticks and added them to the fire.
Since leaving Port Bhalvar, Dhal had noticed a change in Efan. No longer did the boy smile and, though never much of a talker, he had become absolutely laconic. As Efan stood up, Dhal laid a hand on his shoulder. “Efan, is there something wrong?”
“No,” the boy snapped. “There’s nothing wrong. I just don’t like the mountains! I wish we could have gone another way— across the sea. Then—then no one could have followed us.”
“Haradan thinks we’ve lost the men who were behind us.”
Efan was silent.
“You don’t think we have, do you?” ‘ Efan shook his head, his eyes downcast.
“Is that what you’re afraid of? The men who follow us?”
Efan looked up, his dark eyes moist with unshed tears. “Not for me! I’m not afraid for me!”
Damn, Dhal thought, something is wrong! The only time he had seen Efan cry had been at the news of his father’s death. Efan was shaking now. Embarrassed, he pushed Dhal away, then turned and ran from the camp.
“Efan!” Dhal called after him. “Efan, come back!” He turned to Haradan. “Haradan! Get up! Efan’s gone. I’m going after him.”
Haradan woke quickly, throwing his blanket off as he sat up. “What?”
“I’m going after Efan. Wake the others.”
There was no sign of the boy among the nearby trees, but Dhal could hear him breaking through the tangle of dead wood and vine, and followed the sounds.
When Efan saw Dhal, he stopped and turned. “Go away! Leave me alone! You’re better off without me! I don’t want to go any farther! I’m going back!”
“You can’t go back,” Dhal snapped, closing on him. When Efan tried to break to the left, Dhal caught him by the arms. “Alone, the gensvolf would have you in a night! And there are still those men behind us! What do you think they’d do to any stragglers they pick up? You made your choice days ago, Efan. You’ll have to live by it!”
Efan fought, his eyes wide in the frightened realization that he did have no choice, that there was no going back.
Suddenly Haradan was there, stepping in between them. He took Efan and tried to calm him down. Then Efan’s tears came as he clung to Haradan, his words incoherent. With a nod of his head, Haradan told Dhal to go back to camp.
Later that day while continuing their climb, Dhal dropped back beside Haradan. Efan was ahead, walking in front of Poco. Everyone knew about Efan’s flight that morning, but no one had spoken openly about it.
“How is the boy doing?” Haradan asked, keeping his voice down.
“He’s quiet but he’s climbing,” Dhal replied.
“Do you know what set him off this morning?”
“No, not really. But something’s bothering him.”
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on him and ease up on the pace a little. Could be he’s just tired. We’re nearing the ridge. By tomorrow night we should be on the other side of the mountains and starting down. Personally, I’ll be glad to get out of these mountains. The gensvolf are too bold here, and for two nights running I’ve seen ghost lights under the trees.”
“You have?” Dhal asked, surprised. “Anyone else see them?”
“No, only me. They’re similar to the ones we saw in Sar-ruel and there’s something eerie about them. They make you want to follow them. I have actually had to fight the urge to leave camp and go see what they are.”
“You think they’re dangerous?”
“Physically, no. But what if a man tried to follow the lights and became lost out there—alone?”
“Should we double the watch?”
“Might be a good idea. It will mean shorter nights for all of us but it might also ensure everyone being here when we wake up. Go on now. Stop worrying about Efan. He’ll be all right. He’s young and he’s city raised. He’ll get over his fears after a while. It’s still a good trek to Janchee. By the time we reach the port, Efan should be as good a forester as any man who ever walked the Deep.”
Chapter 22
THE NIGHT AIR WAS CALM BUT COOL. THEY HAD WALKED WELL into the twilight hours, so by the time they set up camp and ate, it was quite dark. The warmth from the fire felt good against hands and faces.
They had just finished eating when Poco cried softly, “Look!”
They all turned. Off to the west was a line of bobbing ghost lights. There were five of them and they were just as Harad
an had described. They seemed to be floating above the ground, weaving as if in some ritual dance.
Without taking his eyes from the dancing lights, Dhal stood up. “How far away are they?” he asked Haradan.
“I’m not sure,” Haradan answered, joining him. Peering into the darkness, they watched the silent globes of light float and waver in the field below. “Do you feel their pull?” Haradan asked.
“Yes, especially if you try to watch them all.”
“What are they?” Poco asked.
Haradan shook his head. “I don’t know, girl, but something tells me that whatever they are, they aren’t friendly. Efan, Dhal, put more wood on the fire. If those dancing lights are night creatures, there’s a good chance they’ll stay away from our fire.”
As Efan and Dhal turned to do Haradan’s bidding, Dhal noticed that Ssaal-lr was missing. “Poco, where’s Screech?”
Poco turned to look. “He was here just a few minutes ago. Over there, near the packs.” Poco moved across the camp, calling the derkat’s name. “Screech? You here, Screech?”
“What’s wrong?” Haradan demanded.
“Screech seems to be missing,” Dhal answered. Suddenly the derkat’s yowl shattered the stillness of the night air. It came from the direction of the dancing lights.
“Damn!” Haradan swore. “The fool’s gone after them!”
“Them?” Poco echoed.
“The lights! The damn light things!”
At Ssaal-lr’s second cry, Haradan turned to the fire and grabbed up a lighted branch. Before Dhal could ask him what he intended doing, Haradan was gone, the burning brand he carried bobbing up and down erratically as he headed straight for the ghost lights.
“Stay with the fire!” Dhal yelled to Poco and Efan. He took another branch from the fire and started running. A shout from Haradan spurred him to a faster pace. Twice he almost lost his footing; it was too dark to be running over unknown ground at breakneck speed.
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