After patting Gialyn on the shoulder, Olam made for their camp. Elspeth followed, giving Gialyn one last reproachful look over her shoulder.
“What just happened? Elspeth…? Olam…?”
Elspeth left him with his questions.
* * *
The travellers broke camp and stood in the clearing, waiting for Daric’s orders, but he could not get what Elspeth had told him out of his mind. Wolves, foxes, rabbits: all gathered around Olam. The last time Daric had heard of such a thing was during the Battle of Brion Spur. On that occasion, it had been one of the Mages of Lebara who had surrounded himself with animals. But Olam was no mage; mages were from up north, not blond-haired Eurmacians. Blinking, he shook himself back to the present.
“Well then, Olam,” Daric said. “What’s in store for us today?” he asked. He was going to suggest continuing along the east path, but maybe the wizard – he might be a wizard – knew a short cut.
Olam bowed. “We continue east, sir. The path remains much the same for the next three days: plentiful water, firm, flat ground underfoot. Well… fairly flat; just the occasional hill.”
The travellers started to follow Olam as he led the way out of the trees and along the eastern path. Daric followed, inspecting the camp as he went – he always tried to leave a place the way he found it. Arfael was already waiting by the ford. He must know the way as well as Olam.
“So what happens after the third day?” Gialyn asked when they reached the stream.
Gialyn, for once, was not walking next to Elspeth. In fact, he had not looked at her for the last ten minutes. He must have done something wrong… again. Daric hoped whatever it was would not cause an argument. It had been a good morning, so far.
“You are an eager young man,” Olam said over his shoulder. “I would not be in such a rush, were I you. In three days, we should arrive at the Ambieth. Or the Western Marshes, as they call it in Bailryn.
“You are from Bailryn, are you not?” Olam asked Gialyn. “I am usually good with accents, and yours is most definitely eastern.”
Gialyn nodded. “Yes. But it’s not my accent which gave it away. I’d bet you heard me talking to Elspeth this morning.”
Olam threw his head back in laughter. “You will make a good guardsman, young man. But to be fair, you do have a strong accent.”
Gialyn opened his mouth to say something, but Ealian interrupted. “So, what’s wrong with the marsh?” he asked. “Why shouldn’t we be in a rush to get there?”
“Do you want to answer that one, Daric?” Olam asked.
Daric started. His mind had been else were. Who are you, Olam O’lamb? What are you?
“I’ll answer that!” Grady interrupted. “It’s a stinking hole, a blight on the landscape, a curse, a filthy pit of doom!”
A smile creased Daric’s lips. As usual, Grady managed to paint a dire picture. He was a dab hand at exaggerating the truth sometimes.
But he was not entirely wrong. “The Ambieth can be a harsh place,” Daric said. “More than a few have found themselves trapped in the mire for days on end. But that won’t happen to us. When we reach the border, we’ll wait for morning. A full day will see us to the Bienn Oasis. Another full march will bring us to Am’cherc, and then a half day should see us safe on the other side.
“I don’t much like the sound of that,” Ealian said. “It must be hard work marching through a marsh?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. This time of year, the ground is solid enough underfoot.”
Grady, however, was not so reassuring. “A few years back, when my unit was on our way to Brion, I had to drag myself out of that stinking hole. It took a week! We lost four men. Just pray it does not rain while we are in there.” He shook his head and pulled in a long, hard breath. “Stone me, but I’ll be glad when it’s behind us.”
Ealian – who had turned pale, Daric noticed – did not ask any more questions about the marsh. He shared a look with Elspeth which said the three-month trek through the Eurmac Canyon might not be such a bad idea.
* * *
The travellers emerged from the trees and followed the path along the valley’s edge. At the southern point of the ridge, they turned east. After a short climb, they entered the Amien’toth, an area of decidedly dull grassland which ran from the Serath’alor all the way to the marsh.
The rest of the day passed without incident. The travellers trekked a fair twenty miles before deciding to make camp. The next day followed in the same vein. The skies remained uncluttered; he pale dawns and crimson dusks came and went. Their route remained steady and straight for the most part – a small detour now and then around the base of a ridge or following the path of a stream.
A brief moment of excitement came when a nobleman passed them going in the other direction. He was a tall man with a grey-green cape and an ornate sword, travelling with what appeared to be two guards. Daric thought it strange: as far as he knew, the Baralan Trail led to the marsh, nowhere else. The nobleman did not look like the type to travel through a swamp. Especially not with horses. The Ambieth was no place for large animals. Where is he coming from? Daric had pondered the thought, then dismissed it as none of his concern.
They made good progress. On the evening of the third day they arrived at Herann’coi, the last slither of woodland before the Ambieth Marsh. At its thickest, the woods were barely two miles wide, thinning out to only a few hundred paces in places. Yet it ran along the western edge of the marsh for almost its full ninety miles.
The travellers made camp. Familiar now with their duties, it only took fifteen minutes to settle for the night. Gialyn gathered wood, Grady dealt with the water, Daric set snares, Olam and Arfael went through their ritual – although they had begun to include themselves in the group – Elspeth and her brother sorted out their food. Setting up camp to eating supper took less than an hour.
They spoke of many things…
Elspeth asked Daric about his time in the Guards. He said it was a good time: more than ten years of steady income and good friends. However, it was often tedious. He talked about the pageantry and the seemingly pointless rituals and went on to say a little about the barrack’s lack of privacy and the oftentimes “suspicious” food.
Gialyn asked what came after the marshes. Olam explained it would be another long week of open grassland until they reached the North Road – or The Aralan Way, depending on who you were talking to. Then along the edge of what was left of the Speerlag until they reached Cul’taris. After a week, they would be well into the central plains of Aleras’moya. Once there, they’d follow the Great Western Road all the way to Bailryn.
Grady told a story about the woods of Crenach’coi: a mysterious tale of strange Woodsmen and even stranger beasts. He talked about folk making up outlandish yarns about the Woodsmen; that they were “eight feet tall” and had “big green, hairy feet.” Everybody laughed, but Elspeth and Ealian gave each other half-excited, half-anxious looks.
Before long, the dark veil of night fell. Daric put the last few dead branches on the fire and lay himself down to sleep. All was peaceful, save for the sound of an owl in the nearby wood. The light wind did nothing more than freshen up the air… it was neither cold nor damp. The end of the first stage of their journey was a good night’s rest for all.
CHAPTER 11
The Salrians
Elspeth woke suddenly, wondering if what she had heard was part of a dream. Barely awake, and still blinking the sleep from her eyes, she scanned the camp for signs of what might have woken her. Something was wrong. She could feel it; an itch at the back of her mind spoke of trouble.
“Ealian!” she shouted.
No reply.
Where is he?
Her throat tightened as if she had swallowed a hand full of sand. “Ealian,” she croaked.
Elspeth tried to piece together what she had heard. There was a struggle, someone had been moaning, or mumbling, then the sound of something dragged across the dry earth… and whisperi
ng: anxious whispering, spoken in an unfamiliar accent – no, it was not a dream!
Cold sweat blossomed on her cheeks, but she managed to crush the feeling of dread which was welling up inside her. Instead, she took a hard look around the narrow clearing that was their camp.
Gods, the food! One of the food packs has gone, too! He wouldn’t take food to go pee. What has happened to him?
Again, her throat tightened. Flecks of white crossed in front of her eyes; it felt like someone had punched her in the nose.
Kicking off her blanket, she shouted, “Wake up! Everyone, wake up!”
With a yawn in his voice, Grady asked, “What is it? Why all the shouting?” He half sat up, leaning on his elbow.
Elspeth pointed to her brother’s empty bedroll. “Ealian… and the food pack. The food is gone… Mr. Re’adh’s fish.”
Grady sat up and forced his boots onto his feet. He nodded towards the north. “South, I’d have heard him; west, we would still be able to see him, and east is the forest. Wake everyone. I’m heading north.”
The rest of the group were up and out of bed before Grady had left the clearing. Gialyn was gazing around with a bemused look on his face. Olam and Arfael were getting dressed.
Daric hobbled over to her, still stamping down his boot. “What happened?” he asked as he looked north at where Grady had set off running.
“I heard something in my sleep,” Elspeth said, “and when I woke, I saw Ealian was gone, along with half the food.”
She held back the tears, but her knees were shaking and she felt sick to the bone. The echoes of what she had heard still rang in her ears. There was something missing – something in the sound that had woken her up – but what was it? Had Ealian tried shouting for help? The half-formed memory twisted her stomach until it hurt. She had to find him.
“I don’t think he would take the food pack,” Daric said. He scratched his chin as though he had actually considered the possibility. “He’s not been gone long. Maybe someone stole it, and he ran after them?”
“No! No! He would not run after a thief.” Gods, tell me he wouldn’t. No, of course he wouldn’t, not for the food! Wake up, Elspeth, you’re not thinking. “Honestly, he’s not that brave. He would have shouted for help. He would have shouted something!” Did he try to shout, is that what I heard? Did they gag him? Elspeth grabbed Daric by the arm and shook as if that would make him understand her fear.
There was no need. By the look on his face, Daric was already a step ahead. “Brigands… or opportunists, more likely. They have taken him with them.”
Elspeth’s eyes widened. A surge of fear flooded through her, as if hearing Daric saying what she had been thinking made it all real. She fought back a sob and dried her eyes. “What will they do to him? Will they let him go?”
“They took him, Elspeth. If they were going to hurt him, they could have done it where he lay. Don’t worry; whoever they are, they don’t have much of a head start. We will find them.”
Olam – his voice muffled while pulling his shirt over his head – spoke: “Arfael will stay here with Elspeth and Gialyn. You and I should go west and south, see if we can find some sign – in case Grady is wrong, and they have not moved north.”
“Good idea,” Daric said.
“No!” Elspeth was indignant. Right then, she felt she could charge heedless into a pack of wild dogs. “I’m coming with you.”
“Elspeth, there are only two directions to cover. Stay here until we know more and can come up with a better plan,” Daric said.
After a long moment of heavy breathing and glaring, Elspeth reluctantly agreed. She sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her body was shaking, she noticed. She felt weak, watery, as if she had not eaten in days. The sudden surge of courage had left her. I have to do something; I can’t just sit here.
Gialyn stood quietly, one arm by his side, the other hand scratching his elbow… and then his neck… and then his shoulder, as if wondering what to do with himself. “I’m sorry, Elspeth, I should have heard something, he was sleeping not two spans away. Do you want some water? I’ll get you some water.” He quickly spun around looking for the nearest waterskin.
“No. I’m all right. But thank you,” Elspeth said. “And it’s not your fault; I was no further away than you.”
Gialyn danced nervously from one foot to the other. His gaze darted between Elspeth, his father, and the two newcomers. Like her, he seemed impatient for something to happen… anything.
He did not have to wait long… Grady ran back into camp. Breathless.
“Three men, I’m sure one was Ealian, across the clearing at the tree line. They have about a mile on us.” He said the last while looking directly at Daric.
Daric and Grady both took on the guise of their previous profession. Elspeth looked on with wonder as they hurriedly prepared themselves for the pursuit. They seemed to be communicating wordlessly, handing each other weapons, tying on each other’s bow sleeve, pausing at the same time to take a long drink of water. Their years of guard duty had equipped them well: in less than a minute, they were dressed, armed, and ready to go.
The two guards stood face to face, developing a plan.
Olam interrupted. “Daric and I should go.”
Grady gave him a quizzical look. “We are ready to go, Olam. You wait here with the others.”
Olam explained, “I can track a fly in a thunderstorm; I can have myself and Daric there much faster. You should stay with Arfael and guard the camp. We do not know their numbers, there might be more of them in the woods.”
“No!” Grady barked. “Enough talk; let’s be off. Daric.”
Olam took a step forward and placed a hand on Grady’s arm. “Trust me, my friend. Think of the boy.”
Grady’s expression flattened. He stuttered for words. “No, I… I should…” He glanced at Elspeth, then at Gialyn. “Yes, you are right. We must do what is best for the boy.” He turned to Arfael. “You and I will stay at the camp with Elspeth and Gialyn.” He said the last as though it was his idea.
Elspeth blinked. She did not know Grady very well, but what she did know did not sit well with what she had just seen.
Ignoring the thought, she turned to Daric. “I’ll come with you,” she said, strapping her dagger garter to her thigh.
“No, you should stay—”
“I’m coming with you. You told me to wait until you have a plan, and now you have one. I’m coming.”
“Please, Elspeth,” Daric said. “We don’t know why this has happened or who we are dealing with. Rushing in could be dangerous.” Daric laid his hand on Elspeth’s shoulder and turned her to face him. His gaze was stern, full of authority. Elspeth had never felt more like a little girl in her life.
“Argh! Go on, then!” she grunted.
Raising her hands to her head, she grabbed her hair, then resisted the temptation to tug at it. She sat down on one of the larger rocks and folded her arms. Maybe she could follow, once they left the camp – no, Grady was as bad as Daric. Why did her father have to hire him, too?
Daric caught Grady by the arm. “Keep them busy. I don’t want to come back to hysterical children.”
Grady nodded.
“‘Hysterical children’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Elspeth asked.
Daric ignored her.
She could have kicked him: Hysterical children…? I suppose he thinks I shouldn’t care my brother is missing.
“Come on, you two,” Grady said. “We have to prepare the camp.” He pulled Elspeth to her feet and gestured for Gialyn to follow them.
Daric eyed Olam, who was just putting down a waterskin and picking up his long walking staff. “Are you ready?” he asked. Olam nodded. “Keep them safe, Grady,” Daric said over his shoulder.
“Of course. Don’t worry about anything; I’ll keep them out of trouble. Stone me if I don’t.”
* * *
Daric approached the clearing, then stopped at the edge of the woods. In f
ront, lay half a mile of short grass. Beyond that, the tall trees of the Herann’coi continued up the slope for the better part of a mile. Glancing to his left, Daric watched as Olam squatted down and ran his fingers along a blade of grass. Daric did not know what he was doing, but Olam held an expression that spoke of concentration.
“We run straight across; no need for stealth just yet,” Olam said.
Both men strode out across the clearing. Olam ran a few paces ahead, looking from side to side, occasionally pointing his staff at a broken blade of grass or a disturbed patch of earth.
They crossed the clearing quickly. Olam squatted at the treeline and gestured for Daric to do the same. Then Daric watched as Olam paced back and forth, staring hard at the gaps between the trees, occasionally stopping to take a closer look.
On the third pass, he spoke: “Here, they went this way.” He pointed at a faint crease on the hard earth. “And it appears our young friend was struggling.”
“You weren’t lying about this tracking business, were you?” Daric said, staring down at the barely visible mark. He had to admit, if he had come with Grady, they might have gone the other way, further east.
“I know the land,” Olam said. His tone was warm as if talking about an old friend.
At Olam’s urging, the two kept quiet as they twisted their way between the thick-set trees. Three hundred paces into the woods, they came upon a stream. Even Daric could see the scrambling footprints of their quarry cut deep into the far bank.
“We have to hurry,” Daric said. “We’re not far from the forest’s edge. It would be better not to face them in the open.”
Daric checked the dagger and shortsword he had brought with him before jumping the stream.
“No need for those yet, my friend,” Olam said.
“What do you mean?”
“I do not think kidnapping was their intent. They were after food. I am expecting to find young Ealian abandoned, fit and well, as soon as they have put enough distance between themselves and our camp. At least I hope that is the way of it.”
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