Wildling

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Wildling Page 25

by Curtis, Greg


  As for the faithful they were weak. The shrines, altars and temples were old and few visited them. Fewer still had priests and priestesses in attendance. They would offer little or no resistance to the Dicans. Especially when for fifty or more years they had been hunted down and killed by them. Those of the other faiths hid just like wildlings.

  Together though, they would be stronger. The faiths could offer the wildlings the one thing they didn't have; a home. Even if it was a homeland in the wastes. A place where they could stand as who they were and not have to fear. And the wildlings could defend it. As they marched and gathered together at the ancient temple they were growing in strength. He'd seen the evidence of that on his journey in the form of the dead patrols. And from what his mother was saying there was more evidence of that in Alador. Dican temples were being burnt.

  War was coming and he had no idea if what the Lady Sylfene was doing was preparing for that war or inciting it. It could be both.

  Relighting the path as Sena had called it was a call to the faithful to return to their beliefs and their churches. A clarion call. The dreams were a call to arms for their allies. A herald to those who were not of the faith but who shared their enemies and could fight. They were a shared history behind which they could unite.

  And Lady Sylfene was behind both. That could only mean that she feared invasion, even now. The enemy had had their noses bloodied, but that only meant that they were angry. They would strike back harder. And she surely feared that attack was coming soon. And while he didn't know if or when it would happen, he knew what they needed to do. They needed to leave.

  “So the Dicans have begun creating their army of spies and informants here. Hostilities between the wildlings and the church have begun in the rest of Alador. They've been knocked back in the wastes but the Lady obviously fears an invasion still. And I passed a small army of them not a week back which means they must have beaten back the elves or they wouldn't have been able to spare the troops. Now the Dicans will be strengthening their grip everywhere they can. Fortifying their positions as they prepare for another invasion.”

  “I think it's time we left this realm.”

  Chapter Thirty Three.

  The Edan home was a small but surprisingly comfortable cottage. But then the Edan's had been living in it for decades. Time enough for them to make the humble dwelling suitable for their needs. So the stone walls had been rendered and smoothed, and then white washed. No cold breeze would pass through them. The floors were covered with thick rugs, the windows with heavy curtains. And the large fireplace was more than sufficient to keep the entire cottage warm.

  Keeping warm though wasn't a problem for them. Not then. If anything the opposite was true. With so many people in the little cottage at once and the fire burning away merrily, they were almost too hot. There also wasn't enough room for everyone to move freely and there weren't enough seats, which was why the children were on the floor and Dorn was standing. The main room was crowded. Too crowded. But then with Dorn's family and Thymis' as well all squeezed together in the little crofter's cottage that was only to be expected.

  He would have suggested going outside but the others said no. There were Dican informers among their neighbours, and they would report anything strange to their masters. The chances were that the Dicans already knew about the stranger in town. A large family gathering involving him would create suspicion. There could already be people watching them.

  Since the Dican churches had started burning the informants had been everywhere. Asking questions in the alehouses, following people about and peeking through windows as they hunted for wildlings. And after the local church had been destroyed people had started disappearing in the night. Just as they had in Lampton Heights. It didn't matter that this was Alador and the church did not have sway here. The church was never too interested in the law of the realm. They would act and if they were forced to later they would apologise. But the apology would be meaningless as they continued their campaign of murder. And more people would vanish. There would be no charges laid or judgements called for. Those who had been taken would be interrogated, tortured and though they were all likely innocent of any crime, killed.

  The church was moving to take control of the realm. Dorn’s family had to be gone before that happened.

  Everyone knew it. His family knew it.

  Family. It was so strange to have his family back with him. All of them. After so long he had all but given up hope. Yet now they were all there, together again. And there were more of them than before.

  Adain, his little brother, shocked him every time he saw him. A brother he had never known existed. A cheeky little imp with huge doses of vitality and a laugh that rang out wherever he went, Adain could never have survived in Lampton Heights. He was not the sort of child who could be contained in any way. But in Alador he had been able to grow a little wild. As to what his gift might be Dorn didn't know. It was too soon for it to begin to show. But he was certain it would be something of the physical realm. Maybe a spell sword or a shifter.

  And then there was Thymis, his brother in law. He was a surprisingly decent young man with impeccable manners. Though he knew almost nothing about him, Dorn liked him. And he liked his family too. The Edans were good people. The sort of people who would in a heartbeat make the decision to leave their family land just to journey with their son to an ancient temple in a distant realm.

  Terra had chosen well he thought, but that was to be expected. She was no longer the child she had been. She had become a confident young woman in the years they had been apart and soon enough he expected, she would become a mother herself. A little younger than was the norm, but he expected she would do well regardless.

  And as for his father, he looked strong. Stronger than he had in Lampton Heights. Something about his life in Alador had agreed with him. The deep lines of his face that Dorn remembered had smoothed over a little bit. He had colour in his face from spending his days in the sun instead of an office. And his back was straighter now that he no longer spent his days hunched over a desk. He had even gained a little weight. Like the rest of his family.

  Meanwhile his mother seemed to spend her days shifting between happiness and worry. Joy that he was alive and worry that the hard times were upon them once more. But still she had been the one to arrange the meeting. To make certain that everyone knew the time and the place as she sent the messages through their dreams. She was stronger than he remembered. Stronger of will. Stricter of purpose. As she had to be. And that had obviously helped with the range of her gift. It used to be that she had had to be in the same house as the dreamer, or within sight. Now she could walk through the dreams of those as far as a league away.

  The years had been good to them. He was glad of that. Though secretly perhaps he was also a little bit hurt. That they had lived their lives without him seemed unfair. As if they had forgotten him. But it didn't matter. Not when they were back together again. And not when they had to leave Alador. All of them.

  “We have the horses and the wagons ready. We have the supplies we will need for the journey. And we have a new home waiting for us. I say we leave first thing in the morning.”

  His father was never one to engage in pleasantries when there were important matters to be discussed. Dorn liked that even if it sometimes upset others. And he liked it then more than ever. He really hadn't wanted to spend any more time speaking about his life in the wastes. About living in an ancient shrine and battling the terrible monsters they were certain he fought every day. The children might enjoy the tales, but there were important matters to discuss.

  “Aye.”

  Endolm, Thymis' father and the head of his house was a man of few words and the only one there who didn't seem to have any interest in Dorn's life in the wastes. He was a farmer and he cared about crops and harvests and the weather. Which made it hard to understand why he and his wife and their other children had agreed so easily to undertake the journey. But doubtless the Edan
s had been considering the very same journey even before Dorn had turned up. For they too were wildlings and he was sure most wildlings had. And Endolm's skills as a farmer and a stonewright would be welcome in Terris Lee. Especially when it came to rebuilding Arrol Der Terris. He was also the only one of them truly skilled when it came to driving a wagon and handling horses which was why he was leading them.

  “At sunrise. We will take the north and east roads as far as we can through Alador before entering the wastes, then cut their edge and head directly for the White Plains. And in the evenings everyone who can pick up a bow will have to practice.” Which no doubt explained the pile of longbows he had already stacked up against the wall.

  “Once through the White Plains we'll steer a more easterly path and Dorn will have to guide us through the shale lands. There are no trails there.” Dorn nodded agreeing instantly.

  “Then we're agreed?” Endolm asked, though it wasn't really a question, and everyone nodded.

  And just like that the plan was made and Dorn was left wondering how it could be so simple. In only a few words they had agreed to undertake what would be a difficult journey, to discard their old lives and begin again in a new land. These were huge decisions that would impact on the rest of their lives, and yet they were made in a heartbeat with nary a word of protest.

  That was the power of fear.

  Chapter Thirty Four.

  “Mount up!”

  Endolm gave the order and everyone did as he said, climbing on to the three wagons. Endolm was leading the caravan because out of all of them he was the only one who had ever done any travelling. Though most of the travelling he did was in bringing wagon loads of produce to market. Still, at least he knew how to drive a wagon and they needed someone who did. This wasn't an easy thing to do. To care for the horses, keep the wagons in good shape, plan the journey. They were lucky to have him. Endolm was also the one who had provided the three horses and one of the wagons. The other two wagons they had bought the previous day with the coin they could scrape together.

  They weren't comfortable wagons. They weren't anything like the brightly coloured covered wagons the wayfarers drove. They were farm wagons, mostly used for carrying wares to the markets. The seats were hard wooden boards, the wheels squeaked and the ride would be rough. Dorn was sure that everyone would be complaining of aching body parts by the time night fell. As for the horses they were mostly used to pulling ploughs through fields. It would be a long slow trip. But still it was better than walking. Especially when they had young children with them and all the possessions they could carry.

  Everyone looked nervous he thought. Whether because of the journey ahead or by what awaited them at the other end, he didn’t know. But they all knew enough to realise that they could not stay in River Vale. Every wildling did. The Dicans were asserting control. It had been happening for years, but slowly. Now as their temples burned it seemed they were in a rush. And there were many who knew of Endolm's gift and the gifts of his family. He had not been secretive about it, and had used his skills with stone to shape it so that he could repair many buildings. There had been no need to hide.

  “Head count.”

  The heads of each wagon immediately checked that their wagons had everyone on board that they were supposed to have and that no one had been forgotten. But no one had been. Not on Dorn's wagon anyway. There were only the four of them. Him, his little brother and his parents. It wasn't a difficult count. It was even easier for his sister just in front of them as Terra and Thymis had a wagon to themselves. And there were only five in Endolm's wagon at the front. But still Endolm had insisted that they go through this procedure every time they set off and he was their wagon master.

  “Four.” Dorn's father gave the count.

  “Two.” Thymis echoed him a heartbeat later.

  “And five. Let’s roll.” Endolm gave the reins on his wagon a flick and instantly they set off. Thymis and Terra followed them and then his father did the same. And with no more than that they were under way. Slowly. The wagons were heavy and the horses were plough horses, not thoroughbreds.

  It was an important moment for everyone except Dorn. As he sat in the back of the wagon as far away from their horse as possible, the sight of the cobbled road moving under him meant little to him. He had travelled further recently and River Vale was not his home. But for the others it was.

  He could see Terra up ahead, looking back at the little town they were leaving, her face wistful. And in front of her Kinessi, Thymis mother looked like she had a few tears in her eyes. She had been born here like the rest of her family. River Vale was the only home she knew. And this was particularly unjust for her. She was a healer. Her only crime was helping sick people. But the Dicans would burn her just the same. And they would burn her children, most of whom were too young yet to have even shown their gifts. As for the children, they looked mostly confused. Unsure why they were leaving or when they would be coming back. Unsure why they had to go.

  Adain at least looked happy as he played with his toys in the wagon. Though River Vale for him too was the only home he had ever known, he was too young to understand. For him this was all some great adventure.

  For Dorn it was no adventure at all. Just another leg in the endless journey that had seemed to be his life of late. And he was prepared. With his longbow ready, his new leathers patched again – it seemed that he could destroy clothes with barely a thought – and his eyes set firmly ahead, he was ready.

  It wasn't the journey that worried him. It was their destination. His destination. Because unlike the others, when they got there he would have a decision to make. One that pained him. He would either have to apologise to the Lady Sylfene and ask for clemency when they reached the temple. That way – and after suitable penance – he would be allowed into the temple with his family. Or he could return to Little Rock and abandon his family. Naturally he hated both options.

  His mother had instructed him to apologise. She would hear nothing else on the matter and told him off if he even looked like he wanted to object. His father had laughed when he'd heard of his fit of pique and how he had shunned Lady Sylfene. Why Dorn wondered, did everyone seem to find that amusing? Then his father had told him he had too much pride and that he needed to swallow it and ask for clemency. Terra had just called him a fool with a head full of bone, and threatened to burn out his eyes if he didn't ask for forgiveness. The only one of his family who didn't have some advice for him was Adain. But then he was only five. In a few years he would surely come to the same view as the rest of his family.

  To add to his woes, now that he was back with his mother she was invading his dreams. Watching him as he had to sit through his nightly history lessons. And if he was the least bit disrespectful to his teacher she would make him apologise. And then she'd apologise for him as well. Naturally it was always his fault. He'd never known it was possible to be humiliated in a dream.

  Still, they were on their way and in less than a month he hoped, all of them would be safely beyond the abilities of the Dicans to ever touch them.

  And then his hopes came crashing down.

  “Hold!”

  Dorn looked away from the front wagons to see a pair of black robed priests and a small patrol of soldiers running for them from the town behind them, and he knew it was bad. Priests didn't run. And they'd barely made three hundred yards. Nervously he gripped his longbow but didn't draw it. Maybe they could talk their way out of this. Maybe.

  Endolm pulled the lead wagon to a halt and the others stopped behind him as they waited for the priests to reach them. They didn't have to wait long as the priests hurried. But strangely they weren't coming for Dorn or his family as he expected. They were rushing for Endolm and he watched in astonishment as they ran straight past them, their black robes flapping with every stride. The others did too. But then he remembered, the Edans were known in these parts as being wildlings. The Clearwaters weren't.

  “Where do you think you're going
deviant?”

  The first priest hurled it out between gasps for breath, and Dorn knew it was a threat not a question. He also knew that the dozen soldiers giving chase were the force behind it. But these were Aladoran guards, not battle hardened soldiers. They were lightly armed, most of them with spears instead of swords, while instead of solid steel breastplates they had only chain and leather. They were also on foot, which was why the priests were ahead of them. Running in armour was slow.

  “North.” Endolm seemed calm, which was good. But behind him his family were looking nervous. And in the middle wagon Terra and Thymis were looking absolutely terrified. They looked even more worried when the guards rushed past them to circle Endolm's wagon.

  “To join the other deviants? Not likely.”

  The priest seemed angry, but that was normal enough for them. The hatred that lived within them owned their souls. And it filled them with fury at the mere sight of a wildling. “You're coming with us.”

  “So you can burn me? I don't think so.”

  Why was Endolm so calm Dorn wondered? His wagon was completely surrounded by armed men. All of whom had surely been told to kill him and his family if they gave them the slightest trouble. Dorn pulled his longbow and rested it on his lap with an arrow drawn. If it came to a battle he was going to win.

  “Get out of the wagon!” The priest snapped at him, apparently unhappy that Endolm was so calm. Perhaps it made him nervous. The guards were nervous too. Dorn could see the tension in their bodies as they held their spears, just waiting to kill someone with them.

  “Get out of my way.” Why was Endolm so calm?

  “Kill him!” The priest screamed his order at the guards and instantly they advanced on Endolm intending to do as they were told. And immediately Dorn stood up and released his first arrow straight into the back of the nearest guard. The man screamed and fell even while Dorn drew his next arrow.

 

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