by Joseph Lallo
Chapter Twenty Three
Llandry rose early the next day after a troubled, restless night. She stepped softly through the house, fearing to find Devary still asleep on the sofa. There was no sign of him, however, and she felt a guilty flicker of relief. She sat down, tucking her legs under her. She was wearing the trousers she had bought at Draetre's night market, and she felt both freed and rather exposed in them.
A clatter from the kitchen drew her attention, and she wandered thither. Devary stood with a cup in one hand, the other thrust into the pocket of his trousers. He was tousled and sleepy, his shirt untucked and his hair unbrushed. He looked at her expressionlessly, offering no response to her shy smile.
'Good... morning,' she said, glancing at the dark world outside. 'Not that it seems like a morning.'
'It's very early, but the sun will be up soon. I'll have breakfast ready in a moment.' He offered her a steaming teapot. She poured herself a cup and sipped gratefully, finding it to be slightly spicy and fragrant. She'd barely taken two sips before an urgent pounding began at the door. Devary frowned.
'Stay here,' he murmured and left the room. She heard the front door open and hushed voices in conversation. He was gone for several minutes, and at length she drifted that way, taking her tea along with her.
Two winged Glinnery guards stood in the hallway. Their eyes flicked to Llandry as soon as she appeared. Devary looked up also, an expression of haggard alarm on his face. Llandry looked questioningly at the guards, trying to stifle the flicker of fear that began in her belly.
'Miss Sanfaer,' said one, bowing to her. 'Bad news to report. We left two of our colleagues at the Silver Harp yesterday. Their bodies have just been discovered.' He paused, his face hard. 'Your room was broken into last night. It's been ransacked; most of your possessions are destroyed, I'm afraid.'
'Whurthags, Llan,' said Devary gently. 'It cannot be long before the search is extended to this house. We are leaving immediately.'
'We're escorting you back to Waeverleyne, Miss,' said the guard. 'I've requested some reinforcements from the guardhouse here, plus a local summoner's coming along. You'll be well protected.' Llandry guessed he was anxious to regain face after a series of failures, but she appreciated his consideration for her safety.
'Thank you,' Llandry said to the guards. 'I-I'm sorry about your colleagues.'
'Not your fault, Miss,' said the captain. 'We'll await you and Mr. Kant outside.' Both men bowed to her and left.
'It is my fault,' she said sadly, to an empty hallway.
Everything moved very rapidly after that. Devary returned within minutes, hastily groomed and dressed in his travelling clothes. She stood ready by the time he arrived, her cloak donned and her few remaining possessions clutched in her small travel bag. A carriage waited outside, with a team of four nivvens in the traces. She and Devary stepped on board and the carriage immediately began to move.
Devary settled into a seat opposite her. 'I am not letting you out of my sight until you are safely back with your mother and father. Understand?'
She nodded, twisting her small hands nervously in the folds of her cloak. She watched sightlessly out of the window as the city of Draetre blurred past, trying to ignore the knot of guilt that had taken root in her belly. Every time she stepped beyond the confines of her mother's house, she generated disaster, and she was wholly sickened by it. Her gravest mistake had been in wandering the streets of Draetre while Sigwide carried the istore pendant. True, she hadn't known he had taken it, but that was little excuse. He had stolen it once before. She should have been more vigilant.
Feeling the advance warnings of an imminent attack, Llandry fumbled in her bag for her tonic. Devary's eyes flicked in her direction as she drank, heedless of his observation, but he didn't enquire. She hid the bottle away again and slumped back into her seat, trying to breathe slowly. She had been mistaken in thinking she could achieve anything by her rebellious journey into Draetre. Her presence - her mistakes - had only destroyed Devary's errand and brought death to two people - and she had almost got herself captured in the process. She had nothing to offer, no skills, no special knowledge, not even sufficient strength to handle herself without disintegrating into a heap of frayed nerves. She would have to admit defeat, accept her reincarceration at home until the istore craze had died away. The thought was severely dispiriting.
It occurred to her, belatedly, that the carriage was moving at a slow pace that didn't fit at all with Devary's apparent urgency not long before. She caught his eye.
'Shouldn't we go a little faster? It could take a week to get home at this rate.'
'We don't want to attract any undue attention,' he replied. 'At the moment we are merely one of many hired carriages travelling through the city. If we were to fly along at a dramatic pace, we would make ourselves conspicuous. We will travel faster when we reach the open road.'
This explanation made sense, but Llandry's nerves would not be soothed by it. She spent a nervous hour as the carriage ambled through the town to the northern gate and finally picked up speed beyond. Their route was to take them up the Coach Road a long way north from Draetre, and then west and back southwards into Glinnery. It was less direct, but nonetheless faster than their pedestrian journey of only two days before.
They travelled all day, putting up at an inn that night. Before sunrise the next day they were back in the carriage. Devary looked as though he hadn't slept the night before; she supposed he had been keeping watch. She hadn't slept much either. They were well out on the Coach Road now, passing through the densely forested hills through northern Nimdre, and the pace was much faster than the day before; so much so that Llandry forgot her misery in the sheer physical discomfort of being bounced, jolted and shaken to pieces hour after hour. She felt that it was deserved.
As they entered Glinnery the wide Coach Road ended and the route became narrow, steep and winding, wholly unsuitable for large vehicles. They were obliged to abandon the carriage in favour of forming a mounted party. One guard rode ahead, two behind, and a few more maintained their station on the wing overhead. Devary was mounted on the largest, strongest nivven, and Llandry was set behind him. She spent several more hours with her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek resting against his back, clinging to him as they journeyed on at speed.
For a time they were able to maintain a brisk pace, but eventually the roads became so narrow and twistingly unpredictable that they had to slow down. The way became increasingly difficult after that, and their progress painstaking. At length the bright Glinnery sunlight grew muted and the softly-lit dusk hours came on. The guard riding at the head of the party reined in and held up his hand.
'I'd hoped to reach the Sanfaer house before the end of today, but we aren't going to make it.' He was obviously chagrined - and worried. 'The nivvens are exhausted. We'll have to stop here for a few hours.' He dismounted and the rest of the party followed suit. Llandry winced as she swung down to the ground, her stiff legs threatening to buckle beneath her. She was grateful for Devary's strong grip on her arm, keeping her upright.
'Miss Sanfaer, please stay with Mr. Kant. I've sent ahead for help. We should expect to see another company arriving within two, maybe three hours.'
Devary frowned. 'Is that necessary? There's been no sign of any pursuit at all. Has there?'
The Captain glanced at him, saying nothing. Llandry understood: more had occurred than had been apparent, but nobody wished to speak of it before her.
'I can bear it,' she said. 'Tell me.'
'I've had scouts aloft, combing the route behind us for signs of activity. One of them spotted a party early this morning, some way behind us but riding hard. It may be nothing - only travellers.'
Devary let out a long breath. 'How long till they catch up with us?'
'At their pace, not more than five or six hours. I've men keeping an eye on them. We'll stay here only for four.'
He nodded to them and collec
ted the reins of his nivven, drawing the beast away for rest and food. Llandry looked anxiously at Devary. She tried not to show the extent of her anxiety, but she very much feared it was written across her face.
He smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand. 'All will be well. I'll make sure of it.'
She wished his apparent confidence was more convincing. She couldn't help a glance back at the road behind them, half-expecting to see a group of pursuers come riding up at any moment.
Devary drew her away from the road. 'It's best to rest while we can.' He took off his cloak and laid it over the grass for her. She accepted the gesture silently, laying herself down and wrapping herself in her cloak. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was riders, riding hard and relentlessly with bright weapons in their hands.
***
The hours passed slowly. Minutes dragged by as Llandry lay, restless and unable to sleep under these nightmarish conditions. Sigwide lay curled against her side, but for once his small form was unable to impart any comfort to her. She was conscious of Devary lying nearby, too far away to touch but she could hear him. There was nothing of the sleeper in the rhythm of his breathing, and in the whisper of grass as he frequently changed his position. He lay as unable to sleep as she. At last she sat up.
'It's time to go, surely,' she whispered.
Devary grunted. 'I hope so. I'll see to the nivvens.'
As he rose to his feet, a shout went up on the edges of their little camp, and a uniformed figure swooped down from the skies.
'Captain,' he gasped. 'The scout's missing and we've one man unaccounted for. I fear that-' He broke off, staring beyond the borders of the camp. Then he swore and grabbed the hilt of his sword, drawing it with a hiss of steel. 'Too late.'
The Captain drew his weapons grimly, shouting orders. Their clearing, so quiet before, was suddenly a whirl of activity as guards descended from the skies and more rose from the ground. Nivvens bucked and whinnied and in the commotion Llandry saw several unfamiliar figures, Nimdrens and even - oh, horror - two winged Glinnery-folk, armed with flashing weapons and pursuing the uniformed men of the Glinnery guard. She watched, aghast, as two were instantly cut down, betrayed by the suddenness of the attack.
Devary came up beside her, his knives gleaming in his hands. 'Stay behind me,' he said tersely. He chose an opponent and attacked, not recklessly but coolly and with considerable skill. His knives flashed in the low sunlight as he fought with perfect coordination. His opponent fell, but immediately two more were upon him, and he was hard pressed; one was defeated but he fell back before the second, clutching at a wound opening redly in his side. Around her the fight raged, too evenly matched: she saw another of her guards fall. She'd kept the knife Devary had given her the night before, and she drew it now, ready to go to Devary's aid.
But before she could reach him, the two winged men appeared before her. They were much taller than she, and they easily blocked her way through to Devary.
'That's the little Sanfaer,' said one, smiling at her with a horrible approximation of kindness. 'Give us the pendant, little lady, and there'll be no need for any more bloodshed.'
The pendant! She didn't have it. It rested in Devary's care, but she had no intention of revealing that fact.
'Why's it so important to you? You've killed for it!'
The second man spoke up, and in his face and manner there was a trace of regret.
'We've no desire to kill you, truly. Just give it up and we'll be gone.'
'No,' she said, backing away. She heard her name called; Devary was trying to reach her, but as she watched he was attacked anew, three men surrounding him. Desperately he turned to defend himself, unable to help her.
'No!' she said again, anguished. 'Why are you doing this?'
'Do you know what it is you're carrying?' The first man's eyes were oddly alight. He took a sudden leap towards her and grabbed her arms. 'You'll never be safe while you keep the pendant. Give it up!'
She twisted, slashing with the knife. Her attacker cried out in surprise and pain and released her.
'Llandry!' The shout was desperate. Devary tackled the man who'd grabbed her, but the second was after her. She ran hard, but she was small and her stride was short. Her pursuer caught up to her easily, knocking her to the ground. She bit at the hands that tried to subdue her, and stabbed upwards with her knife. A cry of pain rang in her ears, and then she was free. She unclasped her cloak and let it fall to the ground as she unfurled her wings. Then she was aloft, soaring upwards, flying with all the speed she could muster.
She'd only intended to get above her attacker, out of reach of his weapons, but she was followed: two men opened their wings and jumped into the air after her. She heard cursing, and a hand tried to grab her feet: she kicked hard, freeing herself, but the delay had given the second man enough time to get in front of her, cutting off her escape. She twisted to the left and darted out of reach, trying to rise, but she knew it was hopeless; her attackers had begun to circle, keeping her surrounded, and they were almost as fast as she was.
Then something hit her face. Confused, she saw flashing colour as wings fluttered directly in front of her eyes. Her absent winged friend had returned, and the stupid thing was buzzing like an enraged wasp. It threw itself into the face of the nearest foe, and the man faltered. Llandry seized her chance and shot forwards, her wings pumping as she climbed higher.
She turned, preparing to circle back, but the air abruptly blurred around her, like sheet rain, and she could see nothing through it. The sky began to ripple like a heat haze and a thick mist laced with colour rushed in, swirling visibly in front of her face. Heat beat upon her, of an intensity she'd never felt before in the temperate climate of Glinnery. When a faint but strengthening melody reached her ears and the ground turned lavender beneath her, Llandry realised what was happening.
She furled her wings and dropped, but too late. The heat vanished, the mist dissolved, and Llandry fell into deep lavender moss. Towering glissenwol caps rose around her, far taller than those of her home, decked with dazzling colour. Lights filled the deep blue skies, glittering like polished gems. She saw drifting coils of silvered mist, tasted honey and nectar on her tongue. Her eyes filled with tears at the extreme onslaught of beauty, and the sheer richness of the scents and tastes and sounds struck her senses like an assault. She fought for breath as she lay helplessly on the ground, dread and rapture filling her soul and pain ripping away her strength.
The smells and sounds and sensations were familiar, so familiar, even though her one and only previous visit to the Upper Realm had been eleven years ago. She had stood in the Daylit Off-World for only moments that time, but the experience had stayed with her ever since, as clear as a memory of only yesterday. Helplessly intrigued in spite of her father's strictures, Llandry had always hoped, someday, to repeat that experience; but not like this. Not while Devary remained in Glinnery, beleaguered and in danger, and it was all her fault.
Mastering herself with an effort, Llandry pulled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against a sudden renewed rush of grinding pain. Funny, that part she did not remember from last time. Turning wildly, she searched for the gate that had brought her through. It would appear as a ripple in the air, splashes of colour out of sync with the surroundings, a sense of heat.
There; a few metres above her and to her left. She opened her wings, but as she tried to fly her back muscles screamed in agony and she fell to the ground again. Undaunted, she launched herself once more, forcing her objecting muscles to cooperate. Another minute, another effort, and she would be back through into Glinnery.
The gate pulsed and her winged friend appeared, its small body spat out with enough force to send it tumbling helplessly through the air. She caught it quickly and surged on, frantic. The tell-tale ripple in the sky was fading, the colours had disappeared, she felt no heat as she approached. A final spurt of effort availed her nothing: the way back to Devary closed forever and
she was left hovering helplessly in nothing but empty air.
Chapter Twenty Four
Working his way laboriously through a particularly bristling set of bushes, Tren almost tripped over the shortig that sat, panting, in the midst of the undergrowth. The dog grinned up at Tren, tongue lolling, with the air of a workman reaching the end of the day's business.
'What? That's it?' Tren stood still, looking in puzzlement at the self-satisfied creature. He couldn't see any reason why the animal would consider its task finished. He hadn't found Griel, or Ana, or Eva. He didn't appear to have discovered anything.
Tren groaned. The absurd creature had probably been following the scent of one of the brightly-coloured tree beasts that Tren had repeatedly glimpsed as they journeyed. The dog hadn't been tracking Griel at all. He exhaled slowly and sat down where he stood, weary and discouraged and afraid.
Rikbeek swooped down from above, chattering. Tren frowned. He couldn't place the meaning of the gwaystrel's utterances the way Eva did, but the string of notes sounded like a warning. Tren surged to his feet, alert. His straining ears caught the sound of cracking underbrush as somebody made their way through the jungle ahead of him.
He grabbed Bartel and slipped into the bushes. Rikbeek stopped chattering and followed, settling once again on the dog's back. Tren took up a station several feet from the little clearing the dog had found. He wanted to be out of the sight of whoever was approaching, but he also wanted to observe that person himself.
After a couple of minutes, a whurthag emerged from the trees. The beast moved with the sinuous grace of an enormous feline, at ease and apparently docile. Nonetheless, the raw power in its muscled limbs sent shivers down Tren's spine. He hoped it was fully under control.
Then Griel appeared, walking a few paces behind his terrifying companion. He whistled briefly and the whurthag stopped and sat on its haunches. The sorcerer paused approximately where the shortig had been sitting moments earlier. Tren couldn't see what he did, but he did see the door that opened in the ground. Griel and his companion walked through, their figures diminishing as if they descended a staircase. Then the door closed neatly behind them.