Gordath Wood

by Patrice Sarath

  “Thank you, Joe. I will make sure they know that.”

  It took a few days for Arrim to be deemed cured enough for a day trip in Mrs. Hunt’s care. She and Joe went to fetch him in Joe’s old car, the windshield wipers beating against an icy rain. They drove out to the hospital on roads that were almost barren. Most people had fled their homes, and they passed house after house that was shuttered and empty. On one big mansion the roof had slid down like a cracked layer cake. Joe drove along the torn-up roads, once passing an official-looking RV bristling with antennae and instrumentation. He glanced at Mrs. Hunt.

  “Must be looking for the source of the earthquakes,” he said.

  A strange smile crossed her face. “I wonder how they will explain what they will find.”

  She made him uncomfortable when she talked like that, and he decided not to say anything else.

  It was a silent drive. When they picked up Arrim, he slid into to the backseat, his eyes dull. Joe figured that he was still pretty drugged up. Joe looked sidelong at Mrs. Hunt, staring resolutely ahead, her kerchief knotted over her smooth hair. She had taken to wearing it all the time.

  “So what now?” he asked. “We’ve got your guardian. Where do we go from here?”

  “Take us back to Hunter’s Chase,” she said. “The guardian and I will go through the gordath, back to our world, and he will close the portal. With good fortune, it will stay closed.

  That is part of a guardian’s job, to see to it the gordath stays shut tight.”

  “But what about Kate and Lynn?” Why wouldn’t she be more up-front about where they were?

  She was silent for a few minutes, then said, “If the portal does not close soon, it will cause a rift that will grow until it swallows the worlds. You saw what happened to the helicopter. Can you imagine what would happen when the edges of the gordath reach the center of the town? How about New York?”

  He remembered the helicopter and the invisible wall that knocked it out of the air in an enormous fireball. But still. The thought of Lynn and Kate, abandoned to their fate, rankled him.

  “You get to go home, but they don’t?”

  “It is not a reward, if that is what you are thinking. Consider it . . . a punishment.” She looked as if she meant that.

  “I don’t buy it. I’ll help you close this portal if need be, but not before we find Lynn and Kate and bring them home. I don’t know what you deserve, but they deserve that.”

  “She’s right.” Arrim’s voice was soggy from the backseat. “If we can’t find them right away, we’re out of time.” His voice was quiet with regret. “I’m sorry.”

  Joe looked up in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to take the time. Both of you—you caused this. You fix it.”

  “Joe!” Mrs. Hunt shrieked.

  He turned his attention to the windshield and slammed on the brakes, slewing the old car around. It slid sideways along the icy road, slamming the driver’s side into the massive boulder that blocked the roadway.

  Balanced Rock had come off its supports and rested in the middle of the road.

  Twenty

  Night fell early in the barrens, twilight settling over them like lead. Lynn was grateful when Hare decided they would camp under the stunted pines for the night; Crae, she thought, not so much. She wanted to talk to him, get his take on things, but they were never allowed a chance to talk in private. Somehow a Brytherner was always at her elbow or the captain’s. All right, she thought. They can hardly keep us from talking when we’re riding the same horse.

  Even under the scant cover of the pines the frigid wind found them, bitterly cold and penetrating. A Brytherner passed her bread and dried meat and another cup of vesh. Lynn huddled in her borrowed cloak, sitting on her saddle to keep off the ground, and stared at the fire. She let the warmth of the drink ease her bones. No one talked much. Beyond the fire the horses ate their grain, the munching soothing. She was reminded of walking through the main barn at Hunter’s Chase in the evening, when all the clients had gone home and the horses finished their hay and grain in the cozy twilight at the end of the day.

  “You finish tucking them in?” Joe teased when she came back to the apartment. He caught her around the waist, pulled her close. “You smell like horses.”

  “Ahem,” she said, pretending to be offended. “At least I don’t smell like grease, and oil, and dirt, and—”

  The shower was small, but it fit the two of them, the warm water sluicing away the day’s work.

  She could almost smell his own aroma right then, the distinct, masculine smell of him. For an instant the here and now was driven away, and she imagined he was right there, right next to her.

  A rustling came out of the semidarkness, startling her out of her half doze. Hare sat down next to her at the fire. Lynn felt a pang of loneliness. She had been so sure it had been Joe sitting next to her. “May I?” he said, and took her injured arm. “Can you use it?”

  “More and more each day. The horse doctor at Trieve set it pretty well. It’s healing nicely.” She could hold the reins with her fingertips and move her arm somewhat.

  “How did it happen?”

  “We were attacked by crows.”

  “You and the captain?” he said.

  “Yes.” She became wary. She had thought he was making small talk, but it was starting to sound more like an interrogation.

  “Have you traveled together long?”

  She cocked her head and looked at him. Hare read her attitude and laughed. “I pried. I apologize. But I admit, I’m curious about you and the Aeritan captain. After all, you are strange companions. How did you come to be traveling together?”

  She said, “The gordath brought us together. We saw its effects early on.” She remembered the crushed smallholding and the little cairn Crae raised to the dead.

  “I see. Shared dangers bring strangers together. And he’s no stranger now, I judge. What does he mean to you?”

  Oh. She looked around for Crae; he was no longer in sight.

  “Where is he?” Hare shrugged; she took that to mean that Crae was relieving himself. “So why do you want to know?”

  “I like to know what binds people together.”

  “Friendship.” She said it too firmly and knew he wasn’t convinced. Probably because I’m not convinced either.

  He waited for more, but she held his gaze.

  “Friendship,” he repeated. “I think he would say otherwise, were I to ask him.”

  “Then ask him.” She turned back to the fire. She could feel Hare watching her. Finally, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Who is the man whose face you seek in the fire?”

  She stared at him, aghast. How did he—

  He tilted his head. She couldn’t tell if he was smiling. “Ah,” he said. “Even the most ill-aimed bolt can strike a target.”

  “It’s none of your business. I don’t see why you need to know any of this.”

  “I need to know about the lives in my command. Your captain is in love with you, and you offer him the warmth of friendship only. Will disappointment turn him? These are all things I need to understand.”

  We’re not in your command. “Like I said, you need to talk to him.” She scanned the camp nervously for Crae. Many of the men had already wrapped themselves in their cloaks and slept. A few silhouettes stood guard. Outside the camp the world was in utter darkness. She strained to see, but her eyes were useless; she had ruined any hope of night vision by looking into the fire. And seeing Joe.

  She scraped snow into her cup and wiped it clean. “Good night,” she said with finality.

  “A pleasant night to you, my lady,” he said with elaborate courtesy. She untied her bedroll and wrapped herself up a short distance from the fire, trying to ignore the seeping cold. She closed her eyes, shutting out the firelight, but she couldn’t close out her own confusion. She couldn’t love Crae. She couldn’t. She willed herself to sleep, trying to wall away her feelings.

  Lynn woke wit
h a jerk, someone’s hand at her shoulder.

  “It’s me,” Crae whispered against her ear. A shiver ran down her back.

  As far as she could tell, the camp was nearly dead silent. Some men snored, but otherwise all was still, not even the sentries making a sound. She raised her head a bit, but she could still see nothing. She turned and rolled over into Crae’s embrace. Instantly she was betrayed by her body’s reaction.

  “What is it?” she whispered, trying to take her mind off things.

  “Hare. I don’t trust him.”

  Me either. Not much we can do about it though.

  “Why not?”

  “Those bullets. I’ve been thinking about them.” He shifted closer and lowered his voice even more. Lynn bit her lip to keep from pressing her mouth against his. “Someone is offering weapons and bullets to Brythern. I think Hare has come to seal the deal, not to stop it.”

  “What can we do?” she whispered.

  “He’ll try to stop us from closing the gordath. We can’t let that happen.”

  She thought about her conversation with Hare at the fire. “I think he’s going to try to pit us against each other.”

  He was silent. Lynn’s muscles eased despite her efforts. Crae brought his hand behind her neck and twined it in her loose braid, pulling her the infinitesimal distance between them. Their kiss was as quiet as their conversation, and again he ended it.

  “Be ready for anything.” He slid away, letting cold air under her bedroll where his warm body had been. Lynn lay in the cold, shivering again until she fell into a restless doze.

  When the sentries woke them all with low whistles, she sat up, twisting to get the soreness out of her body. It was before sunrise, but the sky had lightened, and she could see. She pulled on her boots and hurried off into the leafless, dry brush for scant privacy. I will never get used to this, she thought, finding a spot far enough where she could no longer see the camp.

  On her way back, crunching through the snow, she jerked up. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She could see the camp now, but there was no usual morning bustle. Men stood, but there was no fire, no pot of snow melting over the flames. One of the horses neighed, high and shrill. Trust your instincts. She found a tree, pressed herself behind it. They wouldn’t have any trouble finding her—her footprints punched into the crusty snow—but she couldn’t go back until she figured out what was happening.

  She peered around the tree, trying to make out what she could see through the branches and the indistinct light of dawn. Finally the view came clear. Crae, his arms behind his back, a sword at his throat.

  Someone stepped to the edge of camp, and her heart leaped into her mouth. “Come now, lady,” Hare called out. “We must make haste this morning.”

  She thought he must be able to hear her heartbeat; she could scarcely hear anything else over it.

  “Lynn.” His voice sharpened.

  What can I do? She thought furiously. She didn’t even carry a knife, let alone a weapon. She would have to elude capture until she could steal one of the horses. Even then, what about Brin?

  She could run, but it would get her nowhere.

  “If I have to send someone out there, lady, he dies. No second chances.”

  That was that. She called out, “Why are you doing this?”

  “He’s running out of time. Make haste.”

  She stepped away from the tree and came back to the camp, cloak dragging in the snow. When she came up, her hands were roughly bound in front of her, despite her broken arm. Crae looked at her. His mouth was bleeding, and his cheek looked swollen, but she had never seen him look so angry.

  “Are you all right? What happened?” What had changed? One minute they were all comrades, albeit distrustful ones. The next . . . He must have heard us talking.

  “We’re hostages. He’s taking us to Tharp. Probably for weapons.” His voice was bitter. “Gods damned Brythern bastards. ”

  Hare walked up to them, finishing a bite of bread. “Believe me, you left me no choice. Those weapons cannot come into Brythern in the wrong hands.”

  “Oh God,” Lynn said. “Hare, you don’t know what you are doing. You have to help us stop this, not take your cut.”

  He didn’t answer, just turned and waved a hand. One of his men led three horses over to them, Dungiven and two others. Hare swung into Dun’s saddle. Lynn let herself be helped on board the other horse. Brin was mounted up behind her, grabbing the back of her cloak for leverage and almost pulling her off. Crae had to be wrestled on the back of another horse, still cursing furiously.

  Hare pushed Dungiven next to them, the cloth over his face masking most of his expression, but she knew he was smirking by the wrinkles around his eyes.

  “Interesting, your idea of friendship.”

  Fury rose in her. If she could have kicked him, she would have.

  He spurred Dungiven, and the horse half reared into a gallop. The Brytherner leading her horse clucked, and they jerked forward into a bouncy trot. She thought, Poor Brin, and she concentrated on balancing herself on the rough little mount.

  “I know where they’re going,” Brin said, his voice bouncing with every stride. “This is the old part of the Ring Road.” The overgrown track ran straight toward the ridge that Crae had said backed up to Red Gold Bridge. It mostly disappeared under the snow but for two sunken tracks where wagons had rumbled. For one long stretch, squat, fat oaks bordered it, their bare branches arching across and snagging at the riders’ heads. It would be pretty in summer, Lynn thought and imagined the road shaded by the trees. Someone must have planted them hundreds of years ago for that reason. Now it only looked sad and abandoned, the way winter gardens looked. The Brythern troop trotted beneath the bare branches, the horses clattering along in a stream of bay and chestnut, Dungiven and Hare leading the way.

  The road began to climb, leaving the tree-lined avenue behind. The mountains loomed ahead of them, the snow-capped ridge rising out of the dark trees and disappearing in the clouds.

  “We should reach the Aeritan River by midday, Red Gold Bridge by evening,” Crae said, mounted up next to her. He looked more grizzled than she remembered seeing him, his face hiding behind his furred hood. He rode awkwardly, his arms behind his back. His split lip was swollen and purple, and she winced for him.

  Hare shouted, “Aeritani! Come up here.”

  Their keepers led them to the front of the column, and she could see what Hare saw: a landslide had broken off the rising land and spread across the road, leaving behind a gash of dark brown earth among the snow. The snow on the road had been disturbed as well, the surface of it cracked in waves, like the ripples on a lake.

  The ripples moved. Lynn stared with the others, watching the snow slither across the landscape, making a constant shivering pattern as if the surface of the ground were turning liquid. She turned in the saddle to look behind her. In the direction they had come the road was normal, the track of their hoofbeats punched into the solid snow.

  Her horse shied and snorted. Lynn rode it as if they were joined and looked down. The snow shimmied around his hooves.

  Then she heard it, a deep whispering, words just beyond hearing.

  All the horses began to back up, rearing and stumbling in their efforts to run.

  “Ride forward!” Hare shouted, controlling his plunging horse with his spurs and heavy hands. “We can’t go back; it will only overtake us.”

  Lynn clucked to her horse. “Come on, let’s go.” She closed her legs, dropped her hands, urged him forward. He balked, but she insisted, and he took step after hesitant step, moving one hoof at a time. She could feel the ground shivering through his legs. It matched the whispering.

  The horse reared, and Brin slid right off the back, landing with a thud on the ground. He screamed when the horse stepped on him and tripped, falling over backward.

  With a rumble, the ground jerked sideways, and the horses fell like pieces on a rudely shaken chessboard. Lynn hit the ground h
ard, the wind knocked out of her. As she struggled to breathe, she could feel the whisper thrumming through her body until she felt it taking over the sound of her heartbeat.

  When she opened her eyes, Crae loomed over her. His hood was thrown back; his hair was matted and wet. Cold seeped in at her back.

  “She’s awake,” he called to someone.

  Consciousness and memory came back, along with a splitting headache. “Ow,” she said. “Is it over?”

  “For now,” he said.

  More memories. “How’s Brin?”

  “As well as can be expected.” He lifted her up, and her headache intensified, then receded. She looked at his hands, free of bonds, and exchanged looks with him. “Back in his good graces?”

  “More that he needed all hands.”

  “Pragmatic, isn’t he,” she said, her voice dry.

  He kept his arm around her though she didn’t need it. Lynn looked around. Brythern men collected the horses, soothing them. She checked automatically for Dungiven, and the big horse stood with the rest, head high, huge and white against the snow. He whickered at her, his nostrils flaring.

  “Good,” said Hare when he saw her. “We need to move. You can let her go now, Aeritani.”

  Crae’s expression hardened. Deliberately, he said to her, “Are you well enough?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Her bones felt as if they were still humming with the frequency of the earthquake, but the dizziness had mostly receded.

  They mounted up, Brin shoved into the saddle behind her again. His breath sounded funny, and he clutched his side. A broken rib most likely, she thought and felt a pang for him. Hare looked them all over and gestured to one of his men. “Untie them. They are too battered to do much mischief.”

  As the ropes were loosened, Lynn rubbed her arms with relief, and Brin followed suit. Hare, watching, said, “But be warned. If any one of you makes an escape attempt, all of you will be punished.”

  He didn’t have to bother, Lynn thought. Her arm was killing her, and Brin looked as if he were about to faint. She clucked to her horse and pushed him after the others. He pawed and snorted, obviously distrustful, but the snow stayed still, the only remnant of its previous treachery the rippling waves drawn across the road.