by Spurrier, Jo
‘But if our men could find those signs, then surely the people hunting him could, too,’ Delphine said. ‘Wouldn’t he try to stay out of sight?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Rhia said. ‘But it is impossible to leave no sign at all. And he cannot hide from the king’s men while leaving a trail for us.’ She sighed and knotted her fingers together, her hands red from the creeping chill. ‘Perhaps he never came this far? The king’s men cannot have taken him back, or Sierra would tell us … unless they kept it from her somehow. I just wish there was some way we could know.’
That night, Isidro came to her furs with so much hunger and desperation that it took Delphine’s breath away. He made love to her until they were panting and damp with sweat, and afterwards Delphine fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, sated and warm beneath her blankets. When she awoke in the morning he’d already left, having departed with the other searchers at first light.
There was only so much idleness that Delphine could take, so after her breakfast and her morning cup of tea, she pulled out the books and her notes and went back to work. Concentrating proved difficult, however. What if all they found of Cam was a heap of scavenged bones, or if their search turned up nothing at all? She was beginning to believe Isidro would never leave this place without his brother, but whether that meant he’d spend the rest of his life searching the slopes and valleys, or if the summer would see his bones mouldering in some lonely grave, she couldn’t say. Either way, it seemed wise to begin mentally preparing herself to leave these folk to rebuild their shattered lives, and think of returning to her own people.
The second day turned up nothing, and the third dawned gloomy and overcast as a thick, choking mist descended over the hills. Delphine couldn’t concentrate on her books and, as she took a walk around the camp to stretch her legs, she heard a woman weeping within the big tent, and recognised Mira’s voice.
A little after noon, Delphine lay on her furs looking through the open doorway of her tent when she heard the splash of paddles drift up from the river. She crawled out into the open to see a canoe pulled up on the shore, and Anoa striding up towards the camp with the hood of her raincoat thrown back and her long black hair working loose from its braid.
‘Miss Delphine, Ardamon has asked that you join us,’ Anoa said. Delphine searched her face, but there was no sign of good news — the girl’s brow was faintly creased, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
‘What have they found?’ Delphine asked.
‘A horse. Well, the remains of one, anyway. There’s not much left, but Ardamon asks if you’ll come, just in case we do find the worst.’ Anoa’s voice trembled. Delphine knew she’d grown to like Cam in the weeks she’d known him. Everyone seemed to think well of him — it was only Delphine who found him intimidating, having been treated as an enemy and a distrusted prisoner. ‘I’m to ask Rhia to come as well,’ Anoa said.
Rhia was in the big tent with Mira, who emerged with red and swollen eyes at Anoa’s call. Rhia hesitated, but Mira told her to go with a dispirited flick of her hand.
‘Will she be alright on her own?’ Delphine murmured to Rhia once Mira had returned to the tent.
‘I think so. The other women will be here, and they can send someone to fetch me if needed.’
Rhia hastily packed a few things into a satchel while Delphine donned her salmon-skin raincoat, and the three of them piled into the canoe.
It should have been a fine experience, gliding through calm waters between the mist-wreathed hills, but Delphine was too worried to enjoy it. The men paddled for half an hour or more, and all the while the knot in her belly grew steadily tighter.
When they reached their destination Anoa hopped out at once into knee-deep water, but Delphine couldn’t bring herself to move until the men pulled the craft up onto the gravel bank, afraid that any shift of weight would overturn them. On the shore, she scrambled up the bank where the searchers waited, gathered around a small fire. Isidro was sitting alone a little way apart from them, with an array of bones spread out at his feet.
They were, as Anoa had said, parts of a horse. There was one long foreleg, with scraps of hide and sinew and a cracked hoof still clinging to the mouldering bone, while nearby was a section of spine and half of the lower jaw. A few other long bones had been recovered, along with a scattering of ribs. Beside the sad display was the remains of a saddle with the girth still buckled to one side, and a few sodden straps that had once been a bridle, although the leather had been thoroughly chewed by mice or rats.
Delphine hunkered down by Isidro’s side. ‘Any sign of what killed it?’
‘None,’ he said without looking up. ‘But most of it’s missing. Scavengers must have torn it apart.’
‘I take it you’ve searched the area thoroughly?’
He looked up then, and gestured vaguely to the slope above them. ‘Yes, we lined up and walked the length of the slope. There’s nothing else there, and the only bones belong to the horse. There’s no sign of people.’
‘Is there any way to know if the horse was Cam’s?’
‘No. The gear was Mesentreian, but that doesn’t mean much.’
Delphine heard footsteps and glanced around to see Ardamon coming their way. ‘I doubt the king’s men would leave good gear behind.’
‘Cam’s worth a cursed lot more than a bit of harness,’ Isidro said. ‘They’d leave it if they didn’t have an easy way to carry it. Time would be more important, especially if he were ill or injured.’
Delphine frowned at the scraps laid out on the gravel. Something about the assortment was bothering her. ‘Can you show me where these were found?’ she asked.
Ardamon turned to wave Anoa over. ‘Ani, will you show her?’
Anoa nodded and beckoned Delphine to follow. ‘The leg was found down here on the gravel. The rest was up on the slope — we marked the places with stones. There’s also some hair from the mane and tail — the beast died here, there’s no doubt about it.’
‘No tracks, I take it?’ Delphine asked.
‘Oh, plenty. Wolf and wolverine, fox and bear, and weasels as well. No man-prints, though, and no other horses. That much is a good sign.’
‘What does that leave us, then?’ Delphine asked. ‘Could the horse have come here alone?’
‘If the rider fell and it ran away?’ Anoa shrugged. ‘It’s possible.’ She showed Delphine a few strands of coarse hair tangled around a low bush. They were a reddish colour mixed with brown, much like the mane of Delphine’s stolid gelding, which she sometimes plaited to amuse herself while on the trail.
Something was missing. Delphine could sense it right at the edge of her thoughts. Something ought to be here that was not.
She crouched down on her heels and touched the coarse strands …
‘Issey!’ Delphine called as she slipped and skidded over the mud and wet grass. ‘Where’s the wretched blanket? All the rest of the kit is here, the saddle and bridle, even the girth. The blanket’s gone, but that would be useful, wouldn’t it?’
Isidro stood. For a moment he was speechless, but after a moment he shook himself and roused enough to talk. ‘By all the Gods, Delphi, you’re right.’ He laughed, crossed the ground between them in two long strides and picked her up, hoisting her into the air with one arm wrapped around her waist. ‘Delphi, you’re brilliant! The reins are gone, too, do you see? And we found the stirrups but not the leathers. They could be handy for tying things down …’
‘And didn’t Sierra tell you he had enough gear to survive, a little tent and a stove? There’s no sign of them, either. If the king’s men found him but left the horse gear, surely they’d leave all the rest as well.’
‘That’s true.’ Isidro set her down and stepped back, rubbing his eyes. ‘I must be losing my wits; I just can’t think today.’
‘But what happened to the horse?’ Delphine asked. ‘Why would he just abandon it?’
‘If it fell lame it’d be easy prey for a tiger, or a bear just out of h
ibernation,’ Ardamon said. ‘Better to cut the beast’s throat and be done with it.’
‘Alright,’ Isidro said, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. ‘What do we know? He has some gear, but not much food, so he’ll need to forage.’
‘He’d be weary, and he might be injured if the horse went down hard,’ Ardamon said. The two of them turned to survey the landscape, the steep scree-covered slope to the north with its peak hidden by mist, and the lower hill to the south, with a broad creek leading deeper into the ranges with an easy track of grass and gravel running alongside it. ‘There’d be good fishing in that creek,’ Ardamon said, ‘and it’s an easy way for a weary man to walk.’
‘Hmm,’ Isidro said. ‘I suppose so.’ He turned around once more, and shrugged. ‘Let’s see what we can find.’
They searched until it was too dark to see, but found no sign of Cam. They did find more wild greens, and young rabbits that one of the warriors felled with a sling, and silver trout in the stream, but there was no sign that any person had come that way since the start of spring. There were no tracks, no fresh-cut wood, no smoke to stain the sky — no sign of human life at all.
That night, as she tried to savour the fresh food, Delphine focussed on the good news. There was nothing to prove that horse had been Cam’s, true, but it was the right place, and the right time. He was here, somewhere. All they needed to do was find him.
In the middle of the night, Isidro shook her awake. ‘Delphi, Delphi, you have to wake up. We went the wrong way! I’m an idiot, Delphi, I swear, I must be the biggest fool alive.’
She blinked groggily, and sat up, wincing. He was making no effort to be quiet, and the tents were not so far apart that his voice would not carry. ‘Issey, hush, you’ll wake the others.’
‘We need to go out, right now! He’s been here for weeks, always careful to hide his tracks. He can’t even cut wood, or the sound would give him away …’ He set the lantern glowing, and then fumbled for his clothes while it swung madly on the cord, sending shadows swooping dizzily around the tent.
‘I know where we should have gone,’ Isidro said. ‘By the Black Sun, I must be a drivelling fool not to have realised it sooner.’
He stumbled out, leaving Delphine shivering in a swirl of cold air. Hastily she pulled on her coat and boots and scrambled after him as he crawled into the big tent and shook awake first Mira, and then Ardamon.
‘We went the wrong way,’ he said again. ‘Cam couldn’t hide the horse, and he knew that anyone coming to look for him would find it. He had to hide himself instead.’
He made no effort to keep his voice down, and the other folk in the tent stirred and muttered at the disturbance.
‘Issey,’ Mira sat up and raked her tangled hair back from her face. ‘What are you saying? Where did he go?’
‘That hill to the north,’ Isidro said. ‘The scree slope. It’s too steep to climb easily: you’d never choose to go that way if you had another choice. Not if you’re tired and cold and starving. He wouldn’t take the easy route, not with the king’s men searching for him — they’d think as we did, and follow the path an exhausted man would take. The only place he’s safe is where they wouldn’t think to look for him!’
Mira sat up, yawning, and turned to Ardamon. ‘What do you think?’
He was already reaching for his boots. ‘It’s worth a try.’
This time Mira went with the party as they clambered into the canoes and paddled through the dark. The weather had cleared, making the night bright but cold, and Ardamon ordered all lights extinguished to let their eyes adjust.
As soon as the canoes were pulled onto the gravel shore, Isidro started up the bank, heading for the steep slope to the north. Perhaps he should have waited for the others, but he was full of restless energy that wouldn’t let him be still. Cam was out here somewhere; he could feel it in his bones. He could only hope he hadn’t wasted too much time.
The others caught up with him at the top of the ridge, where he picked through the stunted trees on the hilltop, searching for any sign of where to go next.
‘Isidro, he can’t be up here,’ Mira said, puffing a little as she came to his side. ‘There’s no shelter to speak of, and no fuel or water.’
Isidro shook his head. ‘This is the way he came, I’m sure of it. Spread out and try to find a game trail.’
The men did as he said and, after just a few minutes, one of them called out from the northwest. ‘Sir, there’s a goat track here, leading eastwards.’
Soon they were tramping through stubby undergrowth, twisted and snarled under the winds that raked the exposed hilltop. Isidro glanced back, seeking Delphine’s face among the crowd. She must have been watching for it, for she caught his eye at once and offered a hopeful smile. Isidro tried to return it, but he couldn’t make his lips obey. They’d taken so long to get here, and he’d wasted so much time … Black Sun, let me be right about this. I can’t fail him now, not after all we’ve been through.
The goat track wound around the side of the hill and across a gully before it petered out on another pile of scree, but on the far side they found another trail, and followed as it slowly descended into a rock-filled gulch. On the far side a low rise bore a patch of forest shaded by its larger neighbour to the south, with snow lingering in the gullies and hollows. It was dark beneath the trees — the branches blocked out the moonlight, casting night-time shadows over the earth.
Ardamon sent his trackers ahead, ordering the greater part of the party to hang back. But Isidro couldn’t stop now: he couldn’t even consider it. He craned his head back to peer at a higher point on the slope, where a tree had fallen recently enough that the needles clinging to its branches were still green, preserved by the cold. ‘Up there,’ Isidro said, pointing. ‘I’m going to scout it out.’
Ardamon nodded, and with a wave of his hand sent a couple of men along with him. As he set out, Isidro heard Delphine say something to the clansmen as she followed them. Isidro knew he should let her catch up, but he couldn’t check his stride — it was as though some other force had taken control of his body, driving him on like a desperate rider flogging a faltering horse.
Then a low sound rang through the trees. It was so enclosed beneath the spreading boughs that Isidro could see nothing but mottled darkness. Was it some wild creature scrambling for cover? Had he even heard anything at all, or was it only a figment of a desperate and weary imagination?
A flurry of murmurs from the men at his heels confirmed that they had heard something, too, though. Isidro glanced back to Delphine, eyebrows raised in question.
She pointed through the darkness in the same direction as the sound he’d heard.
Isidro nodded once, and stepped off the path. ‘Cam!’ he shouted into the night. ‘Cam, can you hear me?’
Everyone fell silent and still, raising their heads to listen.
After a moment another sound came, the damp rustle of wood and vegetation, and then a distinctly human noise — a wretched, hacking cough.
He broke into a run, heedless of the darkness and the wet, slippery needles that carpeted the ground. Something was moving in the gloom, wheezing with hoarse and ragged breath. It came from the far side of the fallen tree and, as Isidro rounded the edge of it, he saw Cam stooped and staggering as he clambered out of a shelter dug beneath the broken branches.
Isidro reached him just as Cam stumbled and fell and another choking rasp tore at his throat. He caught him around the shoulders and lowered him to the ground, ignoring the jolt it sent down his arm through the stabilising enchantments. ‘… knew you’d find me,’ Cam said with a flush of fever in his cheeks. ‘Just didn’t think it would take you so cursed long!’
By the time the others reached them Cam was wrapped in Isidro’s coat and wheezing in the cold air. That rattling breath was a familiar sound to Isidro, though he had only heard it in his own lungs, during the pneumonia brought on by his near-drowning back in midwinter.
Within moments
there was light and people all around them. Mira, weeping, threw herself down at Cam’s side while Rhia crouched over him, checking for injuries.
Isidro felt frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to think. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Cam, even for a moment, in case all this turned out to be a dream.
As Delphine pulled lanterns from her satchel, set them glowing and handed them to the men around her, the harsh brightness showed Cam’s true state — he was filthy and deathly pale except for his fever-flushed cheeks.
‘He’s too cold,’ Rhia said. ‘We need hot stones. Isidro, Delphine, can you make them without a fire?’
Isidro realised his heart was racing like a galloping horse, and his hands shook as though palsied. ‘Of course,’ Delphine said. ‘That creek we crossed —’
Isidro shook himself. ‘We may not need to go that far,’ he said, and crawled into the little shelter. It stank of sweat and sickness, but insulated by interwoven branches, it was warmer than the outside air. Scattered all over the bed of spruce, beneath the old horse blanket, were several dozen round river stones, still faintly warm from Cam’s tiny fire. Isidro snatched off his hat and piled the stones into it, handing it through the doorway to Delphine when it was full. She passed her own cap for the second load, and began heating the stones. ‘How did you know these would be here?’
‘It’s the next best thing if you don’t have a stove,’ Isidro said, ‘though it takes a long time to heat them in a fire.’ Outside, Ardamon was ordering his men to cut poles for a litter, and Cam called for Isidro in a low, ragged voice.
Delphine shuffled back from the entrance to let him through, and Cam turned his way with hazy green eyes. ‘Have you heard from Sierra? Is she alright? I didn’t want to leave her but I couldn’t make her come —’