Nolan blinked at her. “How could I have just let them take you?” he asked hoarsely. “They just touched you and you dropped like a stone. You said they’d work you to death. You’ve been sleeping for two days even after I got you away.”
“It was my problem,” Kris said carefully, “not yours. You could’ve just taken the star-jar and gone. I’d never have blamed you.”
“I would never have left you.”
The words hung in the air. Nolan felt his face warm. Kris studied him intently, her own expression impossible to read. At last a flicker, almost a smile, passed over her features, and her cheeks colored slightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Yohanna rolled out a map on the table after dinner that night. Nolan frowned at the unfamiliar words on it, then retrieved the map that Nut had given him to lay alongside it. Yohanna’s was smaller, but far more detailed in Ostmonton. Yohanna nodded encouragingly and pointed at Nolan, then at his map. He pantomimed starting in Suria and traveling north to Lichensveld. Then he shrugged and circled the area to the west of the town with his finger, raising his eyebrows in question.
On her own map, Yohanna pointed out this town, Tabuch, and said the name slowly for him. Then she traced her finger carefully from Suria to Tabuch, her eyebrows raised meaningfully. Nolan shrugged and shook his head. There was no way he could think of to explain why he’d made such a journey. Not clearly anyway. ‘Stars’ wouldn’t be hard, but how to explain the spell, or the attempt to return them?
Yohanna frowned and shook her head. She gestured between Nolan and Kris, then deliberately pointed west, east, north and south of the town, all the while looking at him questioningly. Not why, where. Nolan hesitated. It felt dangerous, vulnerable somehow, to let anyone know where they were headed. But on the other hand, Yohanna had been extremely kind, and she was a witch. And he and Kris could use all the help they could get if they were going to make it to the mountain before the half-year deadline. There was too much space, far too much space between the point on the map that marked Tabuch and the arrows that marked the Twilight Mountains.
Nolan pointed at the arrows. Yohanna sucked in her breath slowly, but not as though she was surprised. Her brows knit thoughtfully.
“Berrin!” she called. When her husband appeared she pointed out the mountains on the map and they launched into a lengthy conversation. Finally Berrin looked from Nolan to the doorway of the room where Kris lay sleeping, sighed, and lumbered away. Yohanna motioned for Nolan to stay seated. Berrin returned after a few minutes with an armload of wood, leather and wool that he placed at Nolan’s feet and sorted neatly.
Nolan felt a grin spread across his face. In front of him lay mittens, hats, down vests, a strong, heavy coat, a canvas tent, and two pairs of snowshoes, something Nolan had only read about. He touched them curiously, and Berrin obligingly showed him how to fasten the snowshoes over a pair of boots. Nolan smiled, repeating the Ostmontian “thank you” several times, then showed them the bag of money that Jal had given him. They exchanged relieved smiles and a few words. Yohanna took two silvers.
Berrin added to Nolan’s map, sketching a route through the mountains that Nolan guessed was more a path than a road in places, but looked like it would stand a far better chance of avoiding the magni than the main road that Nolan had used until now. At the border with the small strip of Ustengard to Ostmonton’s north, Yohanna circled a village and then drew two horses beside it on the map. Then she drew two people on foot next to the arrows of the mountains. Nolan nodded understanding. In the end, it would just be him and Kris.
Nolan tucked the map in his small bag, trying to avoid looking at the weak light from the star-jar. He stowed the equipment with his bags.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely again. The couple smiled and answered gently before excusing themselves for the night.
The next day Berrin took Nolan and a donkey to the village center. Nolan followed him dumbly, handing over more and more of Jal’s coins as Berrin bargained for a sack of oats, a smaller bag of jerky, two pairs of woolen pants, and heavy bedrolls. Berrin also insisted on getting Nolan a bow and quiver of arrows, even when Nolan tried to explain that he’d never learned to shoot. Berrin seemed to not understand, and Nolan let it go. If he could shoot the thing, a weapon other than his knife would be helpful—it wasn’t Berrin’s fault he didn’t know how.
All of the haggling took longer than Nolan thought it should have. Each merchant Berrin approached frowned curiously at Nolan while Berrin talked. All of them had questions that Nolan hoped Berrin was answering vaguely. After the last exchange though, for two more scarves, Berrin seemed pleased. He pointed at the donkey and handed Nolan back the last few coins.
Nolan pocketed the silver, patted the donkey, and looked up into purple eyes. Tobin stared back at him, smiling triumphantly. Nolan jerked back, landing on Berrin’s foot. By the time Berrin turned, Tobin was gone, vanished into the town.
Berrin made a questioning sound.
“We have to go,” Nolan said. He tugged at the donkey’s lead. “Right now.”
Nolan led the donkey back at a trot, watching over his shoulder all the while for other mages or magni. If nothing else, Berrin understood that Nolan was afraid. He followed the donkey, frowning fiercely.
With gestures, Nolan asked Berrin to move the donkey’s packs onto the magni’s gelding, then ran into the cottage. He brushed past Yohanna and shook Kris awake.
“They’re here. That mage, Tobin, saw me.”
Kris blinked twice, startled, and sat up. “My shoes…”
Nolan scanned the floor, grabbed the boots, and pushed them at her. “Are you strong enough? I’m the one that killed the magni. I could—”
“They’ll want us both,” she said, shaking her head. Her hands fumbled with the ties on her boots.
“But if you hide here—they only saw me. They’ll follow me and the horses, maybe.”
She shook her head. “They’ll track the bracelet. They’ll hurt them if they find me here,” She jerked her head towards Yohanna. “We need to go.”
Yohanna watched this exchange with a frown across her wide, kindly face. She said something in a worried voice, but didn’t, as Nolan expected, point Kris back to the bed. Instead she started wrapping up some bread, ham, and cheese with a small jar of the herbs that she’d been giving Kris. She helped Nolan pack these with the snowshoes and the rest of the extra cold-weather clothing into a pannier and set them by the door. Nolan dug his knife out of his other pack and tucked it into his belt, just in case. He left Yohanna to help Kris with her coat and scarves when Berrin was calling from the yard.
Nolan jogged out of the doorway with his heart drumming. Berrin had tacked up Star and tied the pack-laden gelding’s lead to her saddle. Nolan took Star’s reins, quickly checked her girth, and thanked Berrin. The older man left him to reenter the cottage. Conscious of the stares he was already drawing from the village passersby, Nolan stroked Star’s neck, trying to breathe normally. A blond woman up the street was murmuring to a dark-blond, burly man in Ostmontian. A scruffy looking boy was looking wistfully at Star. And a pale girl with a thick woolen hat and purple eyes was staring straight at Nolan.
She was a girl, or young woman, maybe two years older than Nolan. She wore a hat and scarf, so most of her face was covered, but Nolan could see one thin braid falling by her cheek. What little he could see of her face was sharp, and severe for someone so young. Her greenish purple eyes were calculating.
They stared at each other for a few moments while Nolan forgot to breathe. Then she stepped forward a few paces, and Nolan belatedly grabbed the knife in his belt. The girl halted abruptly.
“Tobin said my Uncle Cylas’s murderer went this way,” she said. “That’s you, I’m guessing. Where’s Karisa Flynn?”
Nolan glanced around her, expecting flame-throwing mages to appear at any moment. This would have been a good time to know how to use a range weapon, like the bow Berrin had bought. “She’
s not here. We got separated,” he said loudly. “And your uncle deserved it,” he added quietly. “He’s a monster. I don’t regret a thing.”
The magni girl raised one eyebrow. “That’s half a truth anyway. I won’t be shedding any tears over my uncle. I almost ought to thank you.” She pursed her lips and glanced at the cottage. “But Karisa couldn’t have gotten far at all without you. I can feel her bracelet somewhere nearby.”
Nolan resettled the grip on his knife. He wasn’t sure he could attack this girl, but if she moved first, he’d be ready. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
The girl looked from Nolan to the knife, and took a step back. For the first time Nolan saw nervousness in her eyes. “I sent Tobin for help. I could scream and he’d be here in a minute.”
Nolan swallowed. Kris hadn’t come outside yet. With any luck Yohanna had shown her some other door.
“We’re not hurting you,” he said harshly. “Why bother chasing—”
“You’re a murderer,” she pointed out evenly.
“They attacked us first,” he snapped. “And they hurt Kris. They would have gentled her.”
The girl flinched. “That’s my uncle.” She took a second step back. “And like I said, I really almost ought to thank you.”
Nolan lowered the knife slowly. “I’m leaving right now. With these horses. And you’re not going to stop me.”
The girl dropped her eyes down to the street. “I saw you heading east,” she said softly. “Just so you know. I’d find some other direction if I were you.” She squared her shoulders and walked away without looking at him again. In half a minute, she was out of sight.
Nolan’s pulse had almost dropped back to normal when the cottage door opened. Yohanna helped a very pale Kris out into the yard. Berrin helped lift her up onto Star while Yohanna gave Nolan a brief, firm hug.
“A magni?” Kris asked. “Nolan if they’re already here…”
“We have to try.”
Nolan shook Berrin’s hand and Yohanna’s quickly, repeating the Ostmontian ‘thank you’. The pair of them watched grimly as Nolan led the two horses and Kris away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
From the Book of Kings
The Stone of Peace brought a century of prosperity to Marayne. King Julien was a king beloved by his people and respected by his councilors. After Julien’s death, his throne passed to his son Tristan, a worthy and just king in his own right. When Tristan’s elder son Oliver assumed the throne as a somber young man of twenty-two and reverently took guardianship of the Stone of Peace, all believed he too would become a great king.
But the stone’s power had waned over the century. By the time of Oliver’s reign, the stone could only guide people’s actions, not control them or change their natures. The stone did nothing to curb the jealousy of Oliver’s brother Pascal. For many men to be born a prince is a blessing for which they are grateful all their days, but not so with Pascal. Tristan’s younger son craved his brother’s power. His heart grew more bitter each day that he watched Oliver stand as the central focus of all Marayne. At last he took advantage of the trust he held. He fed his brother a drugged wine, and stole the Stone of Peace from Oliver’s throat while he slept.
Once he had the stone in hand, Pascal was disappointed to see that it would not win him a kingdom as it had his grandfather. Weakened as it was, the stone wouldn’t let Pascal think of slaying his elder brother either. At last Pascal decided to leave the city of Marenz that same night, and rode hard for the Twilight Mountains. He thought to return the stone to the Dawn Caves, and trade it for his own kingdom. With him, Pascal brought every man in his household’s service as well as his friends among Marayne’s lords, and their servants. Together they formed a small army of two hundred men that rode north, and north, and out of sight.
Months later, one young lord’s son, just thirteen years old, reappeared at his household’s door. His fingers were frostbitten, his face bloodless and thin. He carried with him air as fresh and cold as though it came straight from the mountains. When he’d slept and eaten, he spoke of being separated from the rest of Pascal’s group, and meeting an old man. When the old man asked what he wanted, the boy replied simply ‘to go home’.
No other friend or servant of Pascal, nor the prince himself, was ever heard of again. In the following years, peasants grew restless with their lords’ rule. Across the countryside, large and small disputes chipped away at Oliver’s authority. Western lords grew discontented with seeing their minerals moved to the capitol. Five years after Pascal’s theft, they rose against Oliver, only to have their lands then seized by Ustengard. Suria took southern farmland. Northern forestland was lost to Ostmonton. When King Oliver died, he left a country that was only a fraction of what his grandfather had created.
~~~
Nolan followed the road west, partly on the hope that the strange magni girl might have been telling the truth, and partly with the thought of finding the trail that Berrin had sketched for him on the map. If the magni only searched the road, a back-woods trail was their best chance. They found the trail in two miles—a winding, steep path just wide enough for one horse—and started climbing. At any rate, Nolan hoped this was the trail Berrin had meant, and not some deer path. The trail was heading north at least, and Kris was as happy as Nolan to get off the road and try it. It took them through a half-frozen muddy stream and over rougher, rockier ground, but to Nolan’s relief, it kept winding its way higher into the mountains.
Kris clung grimly to Star’s mane, jostling in the saddle with each of the mare’s strides. Nolan didn’t need to ask whether she’d ever been on a horse before—he’d seen six-year-olds with better balance. But he and Kris both knew that she was in no shape to walk.
There was no discussion to pass the time. No song. No music. Only wind, hoofbeats, snow, and forest. Now and then Nolan looked over his shoulder just to be sure that Kris was still there, still conscious, still alive. She looked stiff and uncomfortable, but she was awake and wholly focused on staying in the saddle through each rise and fall in the path. Nolan was glad for the bedroll tucked behind Star’s saddle. He thought twice that it might have been the only thing keeping Kris from sliding off the back of the saddle on a steep rise. He doubted she had the strength to hold herself there, even if she had known how.
If Nolan had planned better, he could have bought a length of rope that morning to tie her to the saddle. Or if they’d been a little luckier, they could have had another day or two to let Kris sleep.
He supposed he should be glad of the luck they’d had, in finding Yohanna. And that magni girl not screaming for help that morning had been a small miracle. She could have raised a crowd just from the villagers if she’d wanted to, but she’d let them go. She might even have led Tobin and the others east. The other magni would figure out the mistake and track them again, but she might have bought them a few extra hours. Cylas’s niece of all people, helping them. Nolan could barely believe it. Kris, when he mentioned it, didn’t believe it at all.
“They lie like they breathe, Nolan,” she gritted out when he mentioned it. “She just wants to make us think we can take our time while they get more people.”
Nolan didn’t press the subject. In part, it felt stupid to make more noise than they needed to, even when they were leaving a clear trail of hoof and boot prints through the light snow. But more than that, he was distracted by Kris’s eyes, which were starting to well with unshed tears.
“Try taking your feet out of the stirrups,” he said softly. “If you change position, the muscles can rest a little.”
“And how would I stay on then?” she snapped.
Nolan gestured to the woods around them. They’d reached a crest in the path, and were ten feet from starting another descent. It was as level a spot as they were likely to see all day. “We can stop for a minute here. You don’t need them for balance on the level.”
Kris shook her head firmly, her lips tight. “We can’t stop. I’m fine. It�
�ll pass.”
“Try rubbing your legs then, at least. Work the muscles loose.”
Reluctantly, Kris unwound her left hand from Star’s mane and obeyed. After a moment, she nodded at him unconvincingly. “You’re right. That helps.”
Nolan pretended to believe her. They trudged on without talking any more, stopping only once to let the horses drink from a stream. Star and the gelding followed Nolan with remarkably little fuss. In their place, Nolan thought he would have had more objection to a day climbing up and down a mountain with a clumsy rider and a bunch of luggage. The most the gelding did, more and more by the end of the day, was try to eat any bit of grass that was higher than the inch or so of snow on the mountainside. He needed a name, Nolan thought absently, but he let the thought slide away unanswered. He had no energy to name a horse. Everything in him was focused on the climb, on listening for any approaching Rusamites, and on Kris.
By mid-afternoon her cheeks were streaming with tears, and her face had taken on almost the same corpse-like color that she’d had before they reached Yohanna. Nolan led them on, gritting his teeth. His own legs were aching, so Kris had to be in agony. They needed to stop, and build a fire, and give her Yohanna’s tea. She needed to sleep. Nolan wanted to sleep, but there was no hope of that with the magni on their trail. If they stopped, out here by themselves, they were caught. If they kept going, he wasn’t sure Kris would ever get her strength back.
They hiked on. He caught her when she slumped sideways in the saddle, and finally climbed up behind her to keep her steady.
She stiffened slightly under his arm. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Nolan retorted. “And it’ll do us both a lot of good if you crack your head open falling off a horse.” He gathered up Star’s reins and squeezed his legs against the mare’s sides. Star flattened her ears, but she ambled on grumpily when he clucked to her. Nolan was going to owe both horses a warm mash, and very good rub down, when they finally stopped.
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