Seeker of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “The way those two knights looked at me,” Taliesin said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they come after us. Thank the gods their horses are worn out. We rested for several hours this morning, but they obviously didn’t have that luxury. I hope they’ll stay at the tavern for the night. We’ll ride on, cross the river, and wait for our friends to arrive.”

  “We will trust your instincts,” Jaelle said.

  “It’s simple deduction. Put yourself in your enemies’ position and then react accordingly.” Taliesin felt like a fool for not having left the tavern the moment she’d spotted the two men in blue cloaks. The prince had obviously changed his tunic. He probably had many changes of clothes for the journey; a prince would, and he would make his men carry his gear.

  “The bridge Barstow mentioned is out,” Jaelle said. “It’s been out a long time, but they don’t know that. I’m taking another direction to a place we can cross the river. There’s a strong current, but the horses should be able to make it without much trouble. The water is highest in summer, when underground geysers fill the river until it’s overflowing at the bank, but it’s fall, so it shouldn’t be that bad.”

  Taliesin glanced over her shoulder and checked to see if Rook and Wren were right behind them; they were and no one was following. She turned and tapped her heels against Thalagar flanks. The horse started galloping and put a few more miles between them and the Maldavians. She didn’t imagine the third time she met Prince Sertorius she’d get away so easily.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Vegetation grew scarce over the next ten miles, and the air became more arid. Dead trees poked out of the dry ground and sporadic clumps of dark brown grass and thorny weeds grew out of sand. Granite boulders protruded from the sand like the backs of giant sea turtles, around which grew tall, slender cacti and bushes yielding purple berries and tiny white flowers. The faint roar of the river grew louder, drawing Taliesin’s attention long before they reached it. The closer they came, the more small, gnarled trees grew, struggling to survive in the hostile environment.

  Reaching the riverbank proved challenging for Taliesin and her friends. To get close to the Minoc River, they were required to ride along the ridge, hemmed in on one side with rocks and thorny bushes, while a forty-foot drop into the river waited on the other. Taliesin saw the Minoc River for the first time in her life. Green as emeralds under the golden light of the setting sun, the big river wound its way through a deep ravine. The remains of a rope bridge hung across the river. On the opposite side lay the remains of a once-great watchtower. A soft bank of red dirt ran along the water’s edge, and flat stepping-stones led into the water, used long ago by whoever had lived in the tower. There was a number of large boulders another twenty feet from the riverbank, forming an obstacle that created a fast-moving cascade and strong eddies where dead logs floated.

  Taliesin saw a great waterfall further up the river, and high cliffs created a canyon that seemed to stretch on forever. She looked at the tower. Rocks jutted out of the hard ground on the far right of the ruins and created an entrance to the canyon, measuring more than eighteen feet tall. Ages ago, the tall rocks might have been statues of some long-forgotten gods. Purple flowers grew along the sides of the formation like the long, wild hair of a giant.

  The river was swollen and offered little welcome; there was nowhere safe to cross. Taliesin was about to comment when she spotted a large black bird soaring over the canyon and flying in their direction. She wondered if it was Zarnoc.

  “The canyon wall drops to about twenty feet, there, below us, and that’s where we will cross,” Taliesin said, not waiting to hear Jaelle’s idea. Seeing the raven was a good omen. “We’ll have to get our horses to jump. The fall won’t hurt them, or us, as long as we hang onto the saddle, and they can take us across.” She dismounted, holding onto the reins, and gazed over the side of the cliff. “Here,” she said, waving her friends over.

  “It’s still pretty high,” Wren said. “I can’t tell for sure, but it doesn’t appear there are any submerged rocks below us. I don’t want to risk breaking any legs. Rook and I can walk a bit further upstream to make sure this is the best place.”

  Taliesin studied her companions. Rook and Jaelle looked ready and able to attempt crossing a river known to be dangerous, but she had serious doubts about Wren; she was terrified, despite her brave words. The rapids were treacherous enough, but there was also the consideration of what lurked in the depths of the water. Taliesin didn’t ask Jaelle if there were crocodiles or poisonous water snakes, because she didn’t want to know.

  Rook dismounted and walked his horse along the side of the bluff a short distance before stopping. He crouched, peered over the edge, and pointed, nodding his head. He was twenty yards away, not far upstream from the tower, and well away from the boulders in the water.

  “What was this place called?” Taliesin said, pointing at the ruins.

  “This used to be called the Tower of Uruk,” Jaelle said. She slid off her horse, holding the reins tight. “The monks who lived there worshiped the Goddess of the Moon. They lived in peace for centuries, panned gold from the river, and used it to create statues in her likeness, until they were overrun by desert marauders. That was a long time ago. Legend says the Djaran murdered the monks in their sleep and sold their servants into slavery after taking their gold and jewels. They lay ruin to the tower as a reminder that the worship of foreign gods would not be tolerated among the Dune Dwellers.”

  “Is that what the Djaran call themselves?”

  “They do not call themselves anything but ‘Lords of the Desert,’” Jaelle said. “My people refer to them as such, among other things. They are nomad dogs. Nothing like gypsies. Though your people think we are the same, we are nothing alike. Perhaps once, long ago, but no longer.”

  “I know Barstow wasn’t talking about the rope bridge. If there is a larger bridge nearby, let’s check it out. There may be nothing wrong with it,” Wren said. “I don’t want to swim across the water. It can’t be that far away, can it?”

  Jaelle snorted. “If the Mayfair Bridge is out, then it’s out. I doubt Lord Valesk or his father took the time to replace the bridge, especially if they don’t want the Djaran crossing into their lands. They probably destroyed the bridge in the first place.”

  “Why doesn’t Duke Richelieu de Boron repair the bridge? He rules Garridan where we’re headed,” Wren said, a frantic note in her voice. “Surely there is another bridge we can cross?”

  “His castle and towns are on the opposite side of the desert,” Jaelle said. “Garridan’s western border is open to the sea, and they rely on ships for a living. Forget about the bridge, Wren. There is no other bridge within a hundred miles.”

  “Think we can get across here?” Taliesin said, tired of the debate. She wanted to cross and she was going to do it. The gypsy shrugged. “Okay. We might as well try. I’ll go first. I should think if you hold one end of a rope and I tie it off on the other side, it will make it easier for Wren, Rook, and then you to cross. I want my best fighter bringing up the rear, and that’s you.”

  “Thank you,” Jaelle said, flattered. “I will not disappoint you.”

  “Are we really going to cross here?” Wren’s voice was filled with apprehension and worry. She climbed out of the saddle and stroked the white mare’s neck. “Merryweather is frightened, and I don’t want to end up drowning.”

  Taliesin and Jaelle glanced at one another. Having someone that afraid attempt something so dangerous was bound to lead to disaster. It was Taliesin’s plan, though, and she knew she had a bit of convincing to do before Wren would make her horse jump into the river. She handed Thalagar’s reins to Jaelle and walked to where Wren stood trembling beside her horse. She put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, aware Rook had already got a long rope and was finding a boulder to tie an end around. He, at least, was willing to try to cross.

  “When Thalagar and I jump into the river,” Taliesin s
aid, “the other horses will see there’s no danger, Wren. When we’re across, I’ll tie off the rope and we can slide the gear to where I’m standing on the riverbank. The less weight your mare has to carry, the easier it will be for her to swim with you across the river. All you have to do is hold onto her mane; don’t let go, and she’ll do the work. Horses are strong swimmers—this river won’t be any problem for them. It looks scary, but it won’t be that bad once Merryweather starts swimming. She’s so strong and brave. If you are strong and brave, too, you both will make it across with no problem. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

  Wren turned toward her horse and tried not to cry. She rubbed the mare’s nose, pink nostrils flared and sniffing at her. “Merryweather is brave and strong,” she said. “I believe she can get us both across safely. All I have to do is hold onto her mane and let her do the work.”

  “The horse does the work,” Taliesin repeated. “All you have to do is hang on. Simple.”

  Jaelle stepped forward. “You can do this, Wren. I have faith in you. And I have faith in your mare. Stay here while we get everything ready; talk to your horse, and reassure her there is nothing to be afraid of. I always talk to Durell. She is a very smart horse. Mares are the bravest, you know. Not stallions; that’s why I have always ridden a mare.”

  “That makes sense,” Wren said. “Females are just as strong as males.”

  “Stronger,” Jaelle said, reassuring her. “And smarter.”

  With a smile, Jaelle walked off with Taliesin, leaving Wren stroking her horse’s neck. Together, the two women removed their saddlebags and dumped them on the ground. Rook came over with the end of the rope and lugging his bags. He’d tied the spear to one of his bags. He set his things aside and went to fetch Wren’s gear, pausing only to give her a swift kiss on the cheek, before he collected her javelins and tied them securely in a blanket.

  “You’re doing it all wrong,” Jaelle said. “What kind of knot is that, you stupid greigo!”

  A brief scuffle erupted as Rook and Jaelle fought over tying the knots on the three bundles. The young man swatted at the gypsy girl, who waited until he walked off before she retied his knots.

  Taliesin tied a rope around her waist, tossed the end to Jaelle, and climbed into the saddle. The black stallion stomped his front hoof. Taliesin leaned over to stroke Thalagar’s neck and remained hunched over in the saddle. The stallion seemed to know what was expected of him, for the moment she tapped her heels, he bolted forward and jumped off the cliff.

  The big horse hit the water, hard, and they briefly submerged before rising to the surface; Taliesin clung to the saddle and swallowed a mouthful of water. She hung onto the saddle horn, her leg muscles tensed about the horse’s sides and water stinging her eyes as Thalagar lifted his head high and swam. Her friends shouted encouragement from the bluff above, and she heard the cry of the raven circling above. Thalagar surged forward in a straight path. She could feel the stallion straining as he fought against the current, doing his best to swim to shore.

  “You can do it, boy,” she said.

  Using his massive strength to fight the current, Thalagar reached dry ground. The cinch broke when he trotted out onto land, and Taliesin and the saddle fell into the mud. The horse gave a shake of his head and ran along the bank, kicking his hind legs like a colt, and let out a whinny answered by the other horses.

  A sudden yank on the rope pulled Taliesin and her saddle toward the water. She scrambled to her feet, embraced the saddle like a lover, and with all her might dragged the saddle to a section of the old tower wall that lay among the weeds and scraggly bushes. She pulled the saddle and rope around a large stone, removed the rope, and tied it securely with a Fregian sled-knot, which was the type of knot Roland had taught her to make when she first met him. She set the saddle on top of the stone to dry in the sun.

  “I’m okay!” Taliesin waved at her friends.

  “I’m sending Wren over, then Rook,” Jaelle shouted. “The bags will come after Rook makes it across; he may need to help you pull them over since the current is so strong.”

  Wren was mounted and ready to make a leap of faith into the water. Rook and Jaelle stood beside Wren’s horse, Merryweather, their gear stacked at their feet. The petite girl urged her white mare forward with a tap to her flanks. Merryweather jumped off the bluff and landed in the river. By some miracle, Wren remained in the saddle and, as instructed, let the horse do the work. The mare safely made it across the river and struggled out of the water. Wren slid out of the saddle and led her horse to where Thalagar nibbled on blades of grass around the base of a tower stone. She removed the saddle and blanket, set them out to dry, and hurried to Taliesin.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” Wren said. “But I don’t want to do it again.”

  “Me either.” Taliesin waved to Rook. “Come across. We’re ready for you.”

  With another loud splash, Rook and his large bay hit the water, and then popped up like corks. The young man held onto the horse’s saddle as the animal swam through the current, and Wren watched nervously. The horse and rider reached the shore, and Wren ran to Rook and threw her arms around him after he dismounted.

  Taliesin grabbed the rope as Jaelle pushed their gear off the cliff and into the water. Rook and Wren joined her, each holding the rope with feet planted firmly on the ground, and all three pulled the gear across. As soon as everything was on dry land, Taliesin left Rook and Wren to pack the gear on the horses, and stood on the shoreline.

  “It’s your turn, Jaelle!” Taliesin shouted.

  Jaelle was already in the saddle. She turned her horse, rode a short distance, and then spun around. The horse and gypsy girl flew off the side of the cliff at a full gallop, but separated in mid-fall and landed far apart from one another. The horse seemed unaware her rider was gone and headed straight to the shore, leaving Jaelle to helplessly float down the river.

  “What are we going to do?” Wren said, pacing along the shoreline.

  “Swim, damn you!” Taliesin shouted. “Swim for shore, Jaelle! I don’t think she swim! One of us needs to go after her!”

  Struggling out of his boots, Rook dove into the river and swam after Jaelle. Each powerful stroke brought the young man closer to the wide-eyed gypsy girl. Her horse reached the riverbank, climbed out, and was greeted by Wren, who grabbed the reins.

  Taliesin kept her eyes on the pair floating downstream, and saw Rook grab Jaelle and start to swim to shore, barely able to keep both their heads above the white, churning water. A bend in the river took them away from sight.

  “Now what do we do?” Wren cried out. She turned toward Taliesin, her fear turned into raw anger. “This is your fault! You should have asked Jaelle if she could swim. Now she’ll drag Rook along with her and both will drown!”

  “Pack the horses,” Taliesin said. “Rook knows what he’s doing.”

  “Aren’t we going to help them?”

  The rocks along the riverbank prevented them from running along the side and following their friends. Taliesin headed toward Thalagar, intending to ride the crest and find them further down the river. Wren let out a frustrated scream and charged. Taliesin stepped aside and watched as Wren tripped and hit the ground face first. Before the girl had time to scramble to her knees, Taliesin placed a foot on her back and pinned her to the ground.

  “Calm down,” Taliesin barked. “I’ll go after them.” She removed her foot.

  “If Rook dies, I’ll never forgive you!” Wren wailed.

  “Just stay here and do what I say. Follow me when you are done. I’ll find a way to pull them out of the river. It’ll be all right, Wren; I’m not going to let either of them drown.”

  Taliesin fastened her sword belt as quickly as she could. All four horses stood together, but none were saddled. Confused, Taliesin reached for Thalagar’s reins, eager to ride after Rook and Jaelle, but stopped when she noticed all four saddles, along with most of their gear, lying off to the side and ripped to shreds. A trail of wolf p
rints led from the saddles to the brush. Where there was one Wolfman there was more, she thought, knowing they’d been discovered. Taliesin ran to the remains of Rook’s saddle, removed the silver spear, and hurried to Thalagar. She’d have to ride bareback, and the spear seemed easier to use than a sword. Wren stood at the side of the river and stared at the destroyed saddles and provisions, fighting a scream.

  “Mount up and let’s get moving,” Taliesin said, in a firm voice. “I’ll take the lead. Bring Rook’s and Jaelle’s horses. We’ll have to make our way along the river. Well? Don’t just stand there. Let’s go, Wren.”

  Taliesin stuck the spear point into the soft ground and wound her hand into Thalagar’s thick, black mane. She pulled herself onto his back and then yanked the spear out of the ground. Leaving Wren to mount her mare and bring the two other horses, Taliesin headed along a rocky trail to the top of the hill. In less than a minute, Wren, her bottom lip quivering, had caught up. The girl trailed Taliesin as they followed a narrow path that was overgrown with weeds. There was no way to ride beside the river, which they could see from the path, and neither Rook nor Jaelle were in sight.

  “The Wolfmen are close,” Taliesin said, glancing over her shoulder.

  “I’m so scared. What if the Wolfmen found Rook and Jaelle? What are we going to do?”

  “Kill them. What else?”

  The path descended through the weeds to the shoreline. Tall reeds and cattails at the edge of the water grew high enough that it was difficult to see the river, although Taliesin could hear the roar of it. Rook and Jaelle had floated straight into the rapids, and though she was worried, her attention remained focused on the reeds blocking the view of the river.

  “This is a perfect place for the Wolfmen to hide,” Taliesin said. “Stay here, Wren. I’ll go to the river and see if I can find Rook and Jaelle.”

  Thalagar walked through the reeds with his ears pricked up, and Taliesin leaned forward and held the silver spear, ready to stab anything that growled. A rustling in the reeds produced a long-legged white crane that took one look at Taliesin and flew off across the river. An old story Osprey had read to her when she was little came to mind, about a girl carried off by a flock of cranes into the sky, never to be seen by her parents again; she shivered, despite the warmth of the day.