The Singing

by Alison Croggon

  They decided to stop by the road and have a meal, since they had not eaten since the morning, and discuss their next move. They hastily took out some food, anxiously keeping an eye on the road. There were not many people passing now, and those who did were mostly soldiers. Every time a soldier's eye rested on them, Hem felt himself tense: it was only a matter of time, surely, before they were stopped and questioned again.

  While all three of them (and all of the beasts) wanted to get out of Desor as quickly as possible, they couldn't agree on how best to go about it. Saliman and Hekibel were for turning back. Hem passionately disagreed. He argued that they couldn't afford to lose any time at all, especially now they knew that open war in Annar was at hand. And he also feared that if they turned back, they could well run into the Black Army on the road.

  "And what about the Hull that was following us?" he said. "I don't feel at all certain that we shook it off in the floodplains, Saliman; and we left tracks that a blind man could follow in all that mud. We might run into Hulls that are actually hunting us if we turn back. I think we have to go forward."

  Saliman frowned in thought, and sighed. "I fear you're correct, Hem. Perhaps Irc could scout for us on the position of the Black Army I'd feel better if I knew how far away it is."

  "Me too," said Hekibel. "On my life, I do not want to go any closer to Bregor. There are not enough people on the road for us to hide. I don't like it at all."

  "There's nowhere safe," said Hem restlessly. "I hate this stinking, rotten place. It's a prison." He looked across at the road, where a patrol of soldiers was passing. "And the longer we stay by the side of the road, the sooner someone will bother us. Whatever direction we're going, we're less obvious if we're on the move."

  In the end, Saliman agreed, with a heavy sigh, that the risks of turning back were as high as going forward, and the risks of stopping by the road and thereby attracting unwelcome notice were perhaps the greatest of all. he flew off, with stern instructions from Hem to stay out of trouble and to discover whether the Black Army had reached the Fesse. The others resumed their journey. It was now late afternoon, and they pushed the horses on. They hadn't discussed where they should stop that night, partly because none of them knew whether they should stop at all, but at some point they would have to rest. The farther they were from Bregor, the better. Hem tried not to look at the camp: the sight filled him with dread.

  Before long they reached the hamlet where the road forked, and turned west. The road was deserted, and the houses they rode past looked empty. Hem felt more uneasy with every step they took.

  "There's a barrier," Hekibel said in a low voice. "I thought there would be. And we can't turn back; they've seen us. Remember to stay quiet, Hem."

  The barrier, a roughly made wooden gate across the road, was next to a grim building that looked like a barracks. It was manned by two bored soldiers, who were squatting by the gate playing knucklebones. They stood up slowly as the travelers approached. Saliman nodded pleasantly in greeting.

  "Afternoon," said the tallest soldier, a man with the fair skin and blue eyes of northern Annar. "Can I ask where you are traveling, this fine day?"

  "Good morrow, kind sirs," said Saliman. Hem noticed that he gave the soldier a surprised look, as if he thought he recognized him and then decided that he was mistaken, and that he had suddenly changed his accent. He was no longer using the dialect of Lauchomon, but of Desor. "We are traveling home, after a long journey."

  "No one passes this point," said the soldier. "You should have heard the orders from the School."

  "We've been a-visiting in Hiert, and got caught in the floods there," Saliman said. "We've heard no orders. The wife and I left the young ones in charge of the farm, and they expect us this day."

  It seemed for a moment as if the soldier would accept Saliman's story and open the gate, and Hem breathed a sigh of relief; but the second soldier was examining them suspiciously.

  Hem didn't like his face: whereas the first had a bluff, open expression, if not very intelligent, this one looked like a ruffian.

  "And where is this farm?" said the second. "I don't recall your face, and I'm from these parts. I'm sure I'd recognize your woman, if I'd seen her before." He leered at Hekibel, and Hem, sitting behind her on the horse, felt her body tense.

  "We have a farm by the edges of the Hollow Lands," said Saliman, without a flicker of hesitation. "Not much of a home, perhaps, but a man might scratch an honest living there. And I'm somewhat eager to get back there, if you'll excuse us. We're late already."

  A third soldier came out of the shed and sauntered up behind the first two, and Hem saw to his alarm that his sword was drawn. He could tell by this last man's air of authority that he was the leader of the three. Fenek backed toward the horses, and began to growl, baring his teeth.

  "Dismount," said the third. "I am the captain of this region. The orders are that no one passes west of here without express permission. I need to see your note of passing, or you'll go no farther this day."

  The second soldier sneered. "You wait on our pleasure, peasant," he said. "Perhaps we'd like to get to know your lady a little. Eh, Brant?" He nudged the first soldier, who looked uncomfortable, and walked up to Usha and grabbed Hekibel's thigh, sliding his hand up her leg. Usha shied and almost reared, and the soldier let Hekibel go and laughed. "She seems a handy type, to be sure. We could have a bit of fun together, eh?"

  Saliman's eyes blazed with anger. He made no reply, but Hem saw with alarm that he had almost lost control of himself: his disguising charm had briefly slipped and wavered, so that for a moment his real face had shown through. At the same time, Fenek, whose growls had been getting louder, leaped at the throat of the man who had touched Hekibel.

  The captain lazily extended a hand. Nothing seemed to happen, but Hem felt a brief pulse of magery, and Fenek fell limply to the ground, his body crumpled, his tongue lolling between his teeth, his lips drawn back in a frozen snarl. Hem realized, with a thrill of dread, that the captain was a Bard. Not a very powerful Bard—he had only a faint glow of magery about him—but he certainly wasn't a Hull. He had never seen a Bard act with such careless savagery before, and even as disaster loomed over them, it shocked him.

  "You killed my dog!" he shouted, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to say anything. "You rot-faced murderer!"

  "Be quiet, brat," said the Bard. "Or I'll do the same to you."

  Hekibel leaned over to the soldiers, pleading, a sob of desperation in her voice. "I'm begging you, sirs, to let us through. I'm sorry my dog went for you—he was protective, he looked after me, and I've had him since I was a child. Surely to kill him like that before my eyes is enough punishment. My young ones are expecting us, and they're all alone ..."

  "Serves you right for taking a trip in wartime," snapped the Bard. "Do you think I care about your stinking bastards? If, in fact, this farm exists."

  "What do you mean, if it exists?" said Saliman roughly. "Are you calling me a liar?"

  The Bard gave him a glance of contempt. "I said, dismount," he said, his voice hard.

  Don't get off the horse, whatever you do, said Saliman into Hem's mind. And get ready to run.

  "1 don't feel safe about it, begging your pardon," said Saliman evenly. "You just killed my dog, and one of your men threatened my wife."

  "I heard no threat," said the Bard. "And if you disobey me, you will know what threat is. Dismount."

  The Bard lifted his hand, intending perhaps to freeze them with a charm, but Saliman moved first. A blast of magery erupted from Saliman's outstretched hands and knocked the Bard to the ground. Usha reared in fright, and Hekibel gasped, staring at the Bard, who lay white and unmoving on the ground next to Fenek's corpse. The two soldiers, taken completely off guard, stood with their mouths open. Instantly another blast of magery shattered the gate to splinters, and Saliman, his disguise fully broken by the force of his own magery, was already through it on Minna at full gallop.
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  Hem, the only person who wasn't taken wholly by surprise, spurred Usha on. The terrified horse bolted after Minna, completely out of control, as Hem threw his arms around Hekibel's waist and Hekibel desperately clutched the reins, trying to stay on. Hem looked back over his shoulder and glimpsed the two soldiers hurriedly mounting horses and shouting, and more soldiers running up from somewhere. Then he concentrated on not falling off Usha, praying that she wouldn't fall lame again, not now.

  He snatched another look: the two soldiers were in pursuit, their mounts at full gallop down the road. They had a good lead, but Hem realized that it was inconceivable that Usha and Minna, already tired after a day's hard riding, would be able to outpace fresh horses. Usha was no longer bolting blindly, and Hekibel now had some control. She steered her off the road after Saliman, who was riding over an unfenced field toward a dark wooded hill. Usha was blowing hard, and Hem wasn't sure how much longer they could keep going. He glanced back again: the soldiers were drawing close, and he thought at least one of them had a bow. Belatedly he remembered that he ought to make a shield, and somehow managed to cast the charm, even at their bruising pace.

  Then at last they were in the shelter of the trees, but now their ride became even more terrifying. Hem could hardly bear to look as the horses plunged through dead bracken that brushed against their bellies, barely missing the trees. There was no way of seeing the ground: if the horses stepped in a hole or stumbled over a tree root, they could break their legs, which would spell disaster. A branch almost swept Hem off Usha's back, giving him a stinging lash across his cheek, and Hekibel hissed at him to keep low. Saliman was turning Minna sharply, constantly changing direction, and Hekibel rode in his wake, concentrating on following his movements. The noise of the horses crashing through the undergrowth meant that Hem could hear nothing of their pursuers, but he thought that they surely couldn't be far behind. He had by now completely lost his sense of direction.

  They came across a small stream and Saliman rode down its sharp banks and urged Minna into the water. Usha snorted and followed her. Now they slowed down, trotting slowly upstream, the shallow water frothing around the horses' fetlocks. The rushing of the water covered any noise they made, and Hem began to relax a little. They had gone some distance before Saliman took Minna up the opposite bank. Here there was a close-knit grove of ancient, wide-boled oaks, growing so close together that their branches entwined and swept down low to the ground. They were newly in leaf, the fresh green making a delicate, close-meshed tent. Here they dismounted and led the horses into the shade.

  The horses had cooled down in the slow trot up the stream, and were no longer winded; but their coats were streaked white with sweat and their cheeks flecked with foam. They had ridden hard: looking at them now, Hem thought it was a miracle that they had not broken down.

  It suddenly seemed very quiet. The tiny noises of the wood—the whispering of leaves, the scurrying of a small animal—gradually rose about them and Hem was sharply aware of the smell of the damp earth, rich with rotting leaves, beneath his feet. With a start, he realized that he had no idea where Irc was, and sent out an urgent summoning. To his unbounded relief, Irc answered at once.

  Where are you? said Irc plaintively. I'm looking and looking...

  We're under the trees, said Hem. We had some trouble.

  Irc gave the crow's equivalent of a contemptuous snort. And you told me to stay out of trouble, he said.

  We might still be in trouble. Can you see any horsemen where you are?

  I saw a man in the woods a little while ago. He is not where you are. I saw no others. I will fly and look and then I will find you.

  Hem sent out his hearing. There were hoofbeats, a horse trotting, maybe two, a little distance away.

  "I think, for the moment, that we have thrown them off our trail," said Saliman, after a long silence. "For the moment. But I have no idea where we are."

  Hekibel had been leaning against Usha, stroking her neck. At this, she looked up. "Dear faithful beasts, these two," she said. "They were not made to run like that."

  "No," said Saliman. "And yet they ran like the Ernani's racing steeds."

  "I thought we were done for." Hekibel shuddered. "Those horrible, horrible men .. . and oh, poor Fenek ..." She laid her face against Usha's damp withers, and Hem knew that she didn't want him or Saliman to see her cry. "It's true, you know, that he's been my dog for years, since I was a girl," she said in a muffled voice. "He didn't deserve that. He was just trying to protect me."

  "He was a good dog," said Hem awkwardly. He was thinking of how he would feel if anything like that happened to Irc.

  "It was just so—sudden." She looked up, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "He's only a dog, I know, but I loved him.

  Now everyone I traveled with is dead. Except Usha and Minna."

  There was a bleak silence.

  "How did he kill him like that?" asked Hekibel. "Was that man a Hull?"

  "He was a Bard," said Saliman, in a hard voice. "Though I think such as he do not deserve the title. In any case, he is a Bard no longer."

  "Did you kill him?" asked Hem. "I thought you just..."

  "He is dead, yes," said Saliman. "I dealt him the justice he was about to deal us. If I were a better Bard, I should not have done it. But I am not a better Bard." There was a dangerous glitter in Saliman's eyes, which made Hem drop the subject. Hem had seldom seen this side of him, and it frightened him. Saliman's anger was slow, but when it awakened, it was merciless.

  "Well, what should we do now?" asked Hem.

  "To be honest, Hem, I am not sure I can go any farther for a while. I am not as recovered from my illness as I would like, and that magery drained me, not to mention that wild cross-country gallop. I would give much to know where those soldiers are. They will be tracking us, for certain."

  "Irc said he would look for them," said Hem.

  "Did he, now?" Saliman smiled, his teeth flashing white in the gloom under the trees, and the old Saliman was back again. "I was wondering what had happened to our feathered friend. I would never say this to Irc, because he would not let me forget it, but he is the best scout I have ever had."

  Irc reappeared shortly afterward as they were making a rough camp. Angling in beneath the oaks and perching himself on a branch, he watched Hem brushing the dried sweat out of Usha's coat and reported that he had tracked the horseman, who was leaving the woods.

  Only one? asked Hem.

  I saw no other, answered Irc. And I'm hungry. He cocked his head, fixing Hem with his eye. Where's the dog? Did he run away?

  He was killed by a soldier, said Hem shortly. He feared that Irc might say something rude, since he had always squabbled with Fenek, but instead Irc went very quiet.

  J am sad, said the crow at last. He was good, for a dog.

  "Only one horseman?" repeated Saliman later, as they shared some food. They had wrapped themselves in blankets as well as cloaks, as it was cold in the shade and they dared not light a fire.

  "Yes," said Hem. "He said he saw no other."

  "That troubles me," said Saliman. "They will not give up the hunt for us lightly. And I am tired enough to sleep a dozen nights." He sighed. "For the moment, we are safest here. Tomorrow, I think, we should try to get out of Desor. Do you still feel the path, Hem?"

  Hem nodded. "At least we're on the right side of the Fesse now," he said. "And Irc told me something else too. The Black Army is past the floodplains and in the Desor Fesse. We would definitely have run into them if we had gone back along the road. Irc said they are as many as ants in an anthill." Hem swallowed. "And he said they left a trail of corpses behind them."

  "Who would they be fighting, in the mud?" asked Hekibel, looking up, her eyes large.

  "I think the Black Army was not fighting," said Saliman. His voice was very low. "I expect that those corpses are their own. It must have been a cruel march indeed." He was silent for a long time. "Most of tho
se soldiers are slaves," he said. "Sharma's war is not their choice: they had none. I pity them as I do not pity that Bard."

  * * *

  Hem took the first watch. He sat on his blanket to soften the hard ground, and listened to the secret night noises of the forest, the gentle breathing of his companions, the stirring of the horses as they shifted in their sleep. Before him was a blackness of trees: at first he could see nothing, but his eyes gradually adjusted, and the darkness shifted into subtle shades of light and dark and movement. It was a still night, filled with a deep quiet: the trees barely rustled. The sky was clear again, and the stars shone white in a black, moonless sky

  He was very tired, and before the moon rose he caught himself dropping off to sleep. Angry with himself, he slapped his arms and forced open his eyelids, stubbornly staring out into the night with burning eyes. Gradually the sky lightened as a crescent moon rose, small and high and bright as burnished silver.

  Sleep kept sweeping through his body like an irresistible wave. He rubbed his eyes and pinched himself. He couldn't be this tired. He had often kept watch after long and exhausting days, and his body was used to it. It wasn't as if he felt safe; even though he and Saliman had, with a little difficulty, made both a glimveil and a shield to conceal their presence and any trace of magery, his nerves thrummed with tension. Yet his eyelids were as heavy as stone, and his eyeballs felt as if they had been rolled in hot sand.

  It surely wouldn't hurt to shut his eyes, just for a little while, to ease them—he struggled against the voice that whispered in his head—it can't do any harm, it would be bliss, just to shut my eyes, just for a moment...

  Hem picked up his water bottle and tipped its contents over his head. The water was freezing, and he gasped with the shock of it, but it woke him up. He shook his wet hair like a dog. Some sense prickled him with sudden awareness, and he looked around alertly, like a deer that had scented a hunter.