Maiden of Pain p-3

by Kameron Franklin

  The pair followed the street as it curved gradually to the west then urged their mounts faster as it straightened to the north once again. Brother Hawk shouted something at her, and Ythnel looked up to see a row of buildings that marked the street's end. Without slowing, Brother Hawk veered to the left and disappeared down a narrow lane. Ythnel tightened her grip on the horse's mane and followed but took the corner too wide and was pulled off the back of the horse by the force of the turn. Still grasping onto the mane firmly, she was dragged into several wicker baskets stacked under a storefront awning. The baskets went tumbling, spewing their contents across the lane, and the awning collapsed as Ythnel collided with one of the poles holding it up. The horse's mane was ripped from her hands.

  Ythnel lay there dazed. For how long, she didn't know. A pair of hands grabbed her, and she flailed, thinking the Karanoks had caught up. She opened her eyes to see several figures backing awaynot guards, just citizens, shopkeepers. Ythnel stood, and the world spun, forcing her to stumble back a step.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, one hand on her head and the other stretched out to touch the wall of the nearby building and steady herself. A shout from the entrance to the lane drew everyone's attention. Ythnel swore as a squad of city guards appeared. Adrenaline pushing aside the fog in her head, she sprinted out the other end of the lane and into a mire of foot traffic. Ythnel shoved her way through, glancing back occasionally to check on the progress of the guards, who now stood at the mouth of the lane, scanning the crowd. One of them pointed in her direction and cried out. At the squad leader's orders, they fanned out into the crowd.

  Ythnel surged ahead with renewed determination, fueled by a growing panic she could not stifle. She kept her head down in an effort to blend better with the slightly shorter Chessentans, but it also prevented her from tracking the progress of the guards. Blindly, she pressed forward.

  "You, there! Stop!" The shout brought Ythnel's head back up, and she expected to see an armored figure closing from behind, but there were no guards near her. She cast a glance about, searching for the source of the command. She spotted it in front of her. Somehow, one of the guards had gotten ahead of her and was closing in on a horse and its rider wading its way through the river of people. It took a moment for Ythnel to realize the rider was one of the cloaked figures who had rescued her.

  "Brother Hawk!" she shouted in warning, hoping the rider would react to the name, even though it was not his. She was rewarded as he twisted around, his hood falling back to reveal a shaved head and meaty jowls. He scanned the crowd, but did not appear to see her. However, on his sweep back, he saw the guard. His eyes widened, and he tried to urge the horse forward, but the mass of people packed tightly together impeded his flight. The guard was almost upon him.

  Ythnel muttered the words of a prayer, calling upon Loviatar and requesting access to the Power. It coursed through her, and she began to shape it with gestures in the air before her. There was nothing to see, no physical manifestation, but Ythnel could feel it building inside her, filling her. She released it, channeling it toward the guard. In her mind's eye, she watched it weave through the crowd, swirl around the guard until it had fully enshrouded him, and settle atop him like a mantle.

  The guard stopped and slowly turned around. Even though there were hundreds of bodies between them, Ythnel knew he was looking right at her. She could feel his eyes widen, his heart race, and his body begin to shake. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and palms. He could not control his bodily functions. An unnatural fright was consuming him. With a shriek, the guard bolted in the other direction.

  Ythnel started forward again, intent on reaching the rider. As she neared him, she saw his brow furrow while he watched the departing guard.

  "That was me," she said as she came up alongside the horse. He looked down at her, puzzlement still on his face. Then recognition struck him. "Mind if I ride along. I seem to have lost my horse?" He nodded, and she accepted his hand up as he hoisted her onto the back of the horse.

  Ythnel could now see that they were at the rear of the reassembled group. Brother Hawk was out in front, wading through the river of people walking up and down the street. The others were slowly pushing their way north as well. Ythnel felt her heart pounding as they moved through the crowd. This was taking too long. There were still guards searching for them, and word could reach the guards at the West Gate before they got there. The gate would be closed, and a hundred loaded crossbows would be waiting for them.

  "Painbringer's touch!" Ythnel cursed out loud. Loviatar had freed her, even after she had let doubt shake her faith. She was not going to squander this second chance. She would get out. Ythnel dug her heels into the horse's flanks, and the animal leaped forward, trampling pedestrians as it surged ahead. Her fellow rider yelped but seemed at a loss as to how to stop the animal. Ythnel did not care. All that mattered was that she reach the gate.

  They overtook the other riders and soon reached Brother Hawk just as he was turning left off the street onto another that led to the West Gate. Wagons, riders on horseback, and travelers on foot stood in a line waiting their turn to pass through the gate. There was no sign of alarm as the rest of the group caught up.

  "There was no need for" one of the riders began, waggling a finger at Ythnel, but looks from the others silenced him.

  "All right, everyone. We're not out of this yet, but it appears that word hasn't reached this far yet," Brother Hawk said. "So let's just take deep breaths and" There was a commotion at the front of the line, and guards began pouring out of the towers onto the wall. The thirty-foot-high, iron-reinforced wood doors of the West Gate groaned as they began to swing inward, cutting off the countryside beyond the city walls.

  "Azuth's beard!" Brother Hawk said, his horse prancing in a circle. With a cry from its rider, the horse bolted down the line in a race to beat the closing gate. The remaining mages hesitated for only a breath. The doors were moving together too fast; there was no way they could make it. Something whooshed overhead, accompanied by a wave of heat, and Ythnel looked up to see a swirling mass of flames growing larger as it hurtled toward the gate. It rapidly overtook Brother Hawk and slammed into the gate doors with a thunderous boom, sending splinters of wood in all directions. Ythnel looked back to see one of her rescuers lower his hands. Then the other riders shot past her on their way out of the city.

  As they approached the shattered gate, crossbow bolts began to rain down on the street from the battlements. People scattered, shrieking as missiles struck targets indiscriminately. The horses dodged and weaved as they carried their riders through the charred remains of the West Gate. Ythnel crouched low to avoid the many bolts flying through the air from all directions. Something brushed her shoulder, and she looked up to see a shaft stuck in her companion's head. The horse jumped over a large piece of debris from the gate, and he slid from the horse, almost pulling Ythnel along with him before she realized what was happening. She wrenched her arms free from around his waist at the last moment and grabbed onto the horse's mane as it galloped into open country.

  She didn't slow down. She didn't stop. She didn't care. She was free.

  Her horse let out a loud neigh and tumbled to the ground; Ythnel rolled free before it could land on her. She got to her feet and saw that horse was standing once again. Concerned about the cause of the spill, Ythnel made a cursory examination of the animal. She quickly found the crossbow bolt embedded in the horse's haunch. It would not be able to run any farther.

  The other mages had already broken through the gate and where increasing the distance between themselves and the city with each breath. There was no one to come back and help Ythnel. She looked back to the gate, caught by indecision, and saw a lone rider galloping toward her. Instinctively, she knew it was the first of the city guards who pursued them.

  Ythnel grabbed the shaft of the bolt in both hands and pulled. The horse let out a terrible shriek as the missile tore free, and it almost kicked Yt
hnel. Tossing the bolt aside, Ythnel laid her hands over the wound and said a quick prayer to Loviatar. When she removed her hands, there wasn't even a scar.

  The mounted guard was almost upon her as she swung up onto her horse's back and spurred it into a gallop. She looked over her shoulder as she sped away and saw that he was still in pursuit and gaining. Ythnel urged her horse on, but it was at its limit already. Then the guard was right beside her. Before she could react, he punched her in the jaw with his mailed fist. Ythnel's vision flared white, and she almost fell from her horse, but somehow she managed to hold on. She tried to move away, but the guard followed her.

  That's when she noticed the dagger hanging from his side.

  She swung her horse into the guard's mount, surprising him. As he tried to maintain control, she grabbed his dagger and plunged it into his face. With a cry, he fell from his horse, and it veered away. Now all Ythnel had to do was catch up.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  You're not even a wizard?"

  They had finally come to a stop once the walls of Luthcheq were out of sight. Of the six people who had rescued her, only four remained. They all sat staring at her. She could see the disbelief and bitter disappointment that laced Brother Hawk's question mirrored in their eyes.

  "Did you free the wrong one?" It was an accusation from a man with a thick mustache.

  "No. You all heard Kaestra call her a witch." He nodded at Ythnel. "What I can't understand is why they would mistake you for one. Exposing you to witchweed smoke should have revealed the truth."

  "They knew I was not a wizard." Ythnel met each and every one of their gazes unflinchingly.

  "I was bait in a trap set for the Mage Society, which I take it you are all members of. Or should I say, were?" She gained some satisfaction when a couple of them cringed.

  "That explains some things," Brother Hawk said, stroking his chin. "But if the Karanoks knew about our plans, that means we were betrayed from the inside."

  "I did overhear Jaerios send for someone named Therescales to discuss the plan to set up the society," Ythnel volunteered.

  "Fires of the Nine Hells!" The man with the thick mustache spat. "Brother Asp really was a snake. I'm starting to wonder if those rumors about his involvement in the capture of Haraxius weren't true."

  "Now is not the time for such speculation, especially when there is nothing we can do to exact vengeance." Something smoldered in Brother Hawk's eyes. Ythnel guessed it might be the fires of revenge. "For now, we need to decide where to go. I suggest Mordulkin. As many of you may have guessed, our potential ally is from that city."

  "Need I remind you that Mordulkin lies on the other side of the bay?" Another of the mages, his face lean and head shaved bald, spoke up. "That would require trekking around Luthcheq. I'm sure the Karanoks will have patrols swarming the countryside. Simply expelling us from the city will not be enough for them."

  "Why not Cimbar?" the mustached mage suggested. "They are across the Adder River and are no friends of Luthcheq."

  "That also means crossing Adder Swamp, Brother Fox," Brother Hawk said grimly. "I do not think we are prepared for that. I still say Mordulkin is our best hope. If we are careful, we can avoid patrols."

  "Decide quickly," the fourth mage hissed. "I see riders." Everyone turned toward the direction he was pointing to see a plume of dust rising from back toward the city.

  "Fires of the Nine Hells, indeed. Into the swamp! We'll ride for Cimbar." Brother Hawk spurred his horse into motion once more, galloping toward the borders of the Adder Swamp.

  The grouped raced westward, but their pace eventually slowed to a canter to avoid exhausting the horses. There was a palpable shift in the mood of the group that accompanied the change from a frantic gallop to a more steady, even flight. Panic drained away and was replaced by silent reflection. Ythnel noticed it within herself. Where before her mind had been clear, focused only on escape, thoughts now began to filter in. An image of Prisus and Iuna, bound and being led into the audience chamber at the palace, floated to the front of her mind. It faded and was replaced by Prisus chained to a stake, wailing in despair as Ythnel walked away. She wondered where Iuna was and how Kaestra was treating her.

  It was strange that she should be so concerned with the fate of the girl who had caused the whole mess. Iuna had been Ythnel's first responsibility upon leaving the temple, and she had failed miserably. But it was something more than guilt. There was a connection between them that Ythnel could not explain. She had sensed it that first night in the Saelis house, as she prayed to Loviatar. The girl needed Ythnel, needed the guidance she could provide.

  "You look like you lost your best friend. Or lover, perhaps?"

  Ythnel came out of her reverie and noticed the mustached mage had fallen back to ride even with her. She hadn't caught what he had said and gave him a confused look.

  "The man next to you on the platform back in the execution yard, was he your lover?"

  "No," Ythnel shook her head. The man looked at her expectantly, but she didn't elaborate.

  "Well, anyway, Brother Hawk asked me to coma back here and check on you. He was worried you might be distracted; you're starting to fall behind."

  Ythnel looked up. The next horse was easily a hundred yards away. She cast a glance back over her shoulder. The patrol from Luthcheq was getting closer. She could actually make out darker spots within the cloud of dust that was following them.

  "Sorry. Thanks for the warning." She nudged her horse a bit faster. The mage nodded and matched her pace.

  They rode in silence for a while, closing the gap with the rest of the group. When they finally caught back up, Ythnel decided to ask a question that had been nagging her.

  "Why the animal names?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Why do you call each other by animal names?" she repeated.

  "Oh, that. It was a way to protect our identities. We were a secret society, after all." A broad grin accompanied the mirth in his voice.

  "I suppose there's really no point in it anymore; just hard to let go of some things." He brought his horse in close to Ythnel and extended his hand. "My name is Viulvos, formerly Brother Fox."

  "I'm Ythnel." She accepted his hand with a brief smile. "Who are the others?"

  "Well, the portly fellow in front of us is Brother Tortoise, who goes by the given name of Muctos. Our fearless leader, Brother Hawk, who you've already met, is known outside the society as Kestus. Riding behind him is Brother Crocodile. I don't know his real name, unfortunately. One of the safety precautions we took was to share our true identity with only two or three other members. That way, if one of us was captured, we couldn't reveal who everyone was."

  Ythnel nodded. It sounded like a wise move.

  "Hmm, it appears our pursuit is gaining on us." Viulvos's comment caused Ythnel to turn and look back. Sure enough, she could now make out several small shapes that resembled horses. "Perhaps we should increase the pace a little." Viulvos excused himself and rode back up to Kestus. After a brief council, Kestus spurred his horse faster and shouted for the others to do likewise.

  At the edge of the swamp, Kestus brought them to a halt.

  "We'll go single file, slow and cautious. Do not stray. The ground is just as dangerous as anything else." With that, he led them in.

  Twisted, black-barked trees crowded together, competing for what little solid terrain there was. Even in winter, without their leaves, the branches of the trees were so intertwined that only small patches of sky were visible through the canopy. A perpetual haze floated up from the swamp floor, gases escaping in crude belches to warm the air, creating tepid, oily moisture that clung to everything. The wet bogs sucked at the horses' hooves, reluctant to let go.

  Ythnel found herself once again at the rear of the line. She looked back quite often, though more from wariness of the sounds she heard than fear of seeing their pursuers suddenly appear. The noises of the swamp were strange to her. A rustle, the snap of a twig, a bird caw, or the hoars
e cough of some beast echoed in such a way that she couldn't tell if it was a mile away or right behind her. She shivered at the eerie silences that hung between. It was nothing at all like the continuous bustle of the city.

  Their path weaved through the trees, reminding Ythnel of the flight of a dazed housefly after it had been smacked with a roll of parchment. The terrain made it impossible to move in a straight line. Pockets of quicksand or deep pools of water were encountered every few yards, forcing the group to backtrack or alter their course many times. Tension within the group was palpable. As Kestus turned them around yet again to avoid a large expanse of water, it became too much. With a frustrated cry, the mage who Viulvos had named Muctos urged his horse into the stagnant mire.

  "No, Brother Tortoise, don't!" Kestus shouted.

  "I'm tired of all these detours! We're not making any progress. If we just cut across" Muctos hollered back as his horse waded in up to its rider's calves.

  "You don't know how deep it could get, Muctos. Now turn back before we have to come in there and pull you out."

  Movement beyond Muctos caught Ythnel's eye. A shape as thick as her leg and longer than the horse dropped from a distant tree into the still water with barely a ripple. Unsure of what she was seeing, Ythnel moved her horse closer to the water and squinted. For several moments, the surface of the water was unbroken, save for the splashing made by Muctos's progress. Then Ythnel spotted what appeared to be a half-submerged log floating across the top of the water. Ythnel blinked and realized the log was not floating; it was slithering, slowly closing in on an unaware Muctos.