by Martin Owton
Sweat slicked Ezrin's face and body as he drew air back into his lungs like an athlete after a hard race. His palms were bloodied where his nails had dug into the flesh, he reached for a flask of spirits and gulped down a large mouthful. His head still buzzed from the effort that he had made in trying to push the clouds aside.
How could I have failed? It seemed as if he'd been shielded from Maldwyn. But how? He knew how shielding worked, indeed he had done it himself, but his countermeasures should have been enough. Certainly there are mages in the world more powerful than me, but not so much stronger that my strength would not move them, force them to reveal some portion of their identity. No mage on earth could so completely nullify my probes like that.. The shielding had been so complete that he had not the slightest clue to the identity of the shielder. Inhumanly strong, the thought crossed Ezrin's mind, but he dismissed it. In my learning and practice of magic I’ve come across very little evidence of the great powers. I’ll try to locate Maldwyn again tomorrow; meanwhile I need something to say to Lord Hercival. For the hundredth time he wished he was dealing with the Duke. A far more reasonable man.
***
Aron dozed on the couch, lulled into sleep by the burble of the gently boiling cauldron. It did not seem to him that he slept for long, but the room was dark when he opened his eyes and he was aware of a layer of mist that rose from the floor. The faint scent of sweet hay came to him as the mist rose, there was a burst of light as if a door had opened and then Iduna stood beside him glad in a flowing gown, green as spring leaves.
“Araiminta has you well looked after then,” Iduna said, her voice soft like the cooing of a dove.
“I did not realise who you are, my Lady,” said Aron, suddenly in awe of the Goddess.
“You cannot be afraid of me. Not after what has passed between us.” Then she bowed her head and lightly kissed him. As their lips met Aron felt a warm wave of contentment flow through him.
“Soon you'll be strong enough to leave. Once you leave my garden you will be beyond my protection. I will not be able to hide you from those who seek you and your friends.”
“How many were there? Are they near?” asked Aron in sudden alarm, thinking of the soldiers they had fought back at the inn.
“Just one,” said Iduna. “A mortal, but quite powerful. You would think him a wizard, I suppose.”
“That comes as no surprise. I thought the storm that capsized our boat was nothing natural.”
“'Tis a dangerous world out there.” Iduna smiled sweetly. “You have only to say the word and you may stay here with me.”
“I cannot leave my companions to face the dangers, I must go back. I owe you so much, Lady. How can I repay you?”
“Keep me always in your heart. That is payment enough.” She bent to kiss him again and in the corner of his eye Aron saw the mists begin to rise.
***
Aron awoke with Araiminta's rough hand on his forehead; a small lantern hung from a hook on a rafter above him among bunches of drying herbs, its soft glow lighting the room. He realised that he had slept past sundown.
“The fever's gone. Sleep well, did you?” said Araiminta softly. “Or were you with my Lady?”
“I dreamed of her again,” said Aron. “But I don't understand at all.”
“'Tis not for you to understand the ways of the Gods. She chose you; just be thankful and be worthy of her. Did she tell you to keep her always in your heart?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Do you think you're the first handsome lad to catch her eye? You be sure you keep your promise. She is fickle and jealous if crossed, and you would not wish to carry her anger.”
Aron sat up and looked Araiminta straight in the eye. “No-one may say that I do not keep my promises.”
“Good, then you will know only her love.” She turned to the cauldron simmering over the fire. “Are you ready for something to eat?”
***
Aron spent two further days under Araiminta's care before she declared that he was fit to travel. Davo and Maldwyn got through a lot of work around the garden and outbuildings. The vegetable patch looked in thoroughly good shape, but Maldwyn's hands were blistered from the spadework, while Davo's back ached ceaselessly from bending to pull weeds. Both men were eager to leave as if they had entirely forgotten the pursuers that had driven them here.
As they mounted up Aron noticed the horses looked fitter and sleeker from their few days of rest and good grazing. He wished he could have stayed until he felt as good as they looked; it had been a long time since he had felt as truly at peace as he had here.
Araiminta strode beside them as they rode through the woods to guide them back to the road they had left in their haste to flee the pursuit. Sunlight dappled the forest floor and the air was warm with the promise of summer. Aron rode along lost in thought paying little attention to the path they took. It was one thing to vaguely believe in the existence of gods, it was quite another to have their existence so dramatically confirmed. He recalled the tales he had heard of the rivalry of the gods, their feuds and petty jealousies. Am I now a pawn in such a game? He struggled to remember if Iduna had featured in any of stories he had heard. Araiminta had described her as fickle and jealous if crossed; how was he to know what would displease her? In all the stories there was a price every mortal paid for the gods' help; this uncertainty would be part of his. As for the rest, no doubt he would learn the full price as the story unfolded. Not a comforting thought. But, without Iduna's intervention I would be dead of river fever.
Aron was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the figure who stepped out in front of them as they rounded a bend in the path. His horse stopped abruptly, jerking him back to reality. The man was dressed in a green hooded tunic with brown breeches and carried a drawn sword. Aron’s right hand instantly sought the blade at the nape of his neck before he remembered that he had left it buried in the throat of a Sarazan guardsman back in the Ferryboat Inn. Two more men, similarly garbed and armed, stepped into the path behind the first.
“Ho now, travellers! There is a toll you must pay to pass through our forest,” called the first man, his face hidden by the hood.
Aron tensed as he prepared to urge his horse forward to ride the man down; then he spotted the archer. He was some thirty paces away standing on a grassy hillock, an arrow nocked, his bow half-bent, a circle of arrows pushed into the turf before him. Aron relaxed and then grabbed Maldwyn's sleeve to restrain him.
“Only a suicide rides at an arrow,” said Aron, pointing out the threat. “If he has any skill at all, you'd be spitted thrice over before you reach them.”
“Oh!” said Maldwyn with a curse. “I didn’t see him.” He relaxed a little, glaring at the man before him.
“Off the horses, if you please,” the first man said evenly, gesturing with his swordpoint.
Aron slipped easily off his horse, keeping his eyes on the archer, wondering if there was some way of seizing the swordsman before the arrow arrived.
“Move away from the horses and keep your hands up where I can see 'em,” the robber directed.
His two fellows moved forward to the horses as the four travellers walked backwards away from their mounts up the road towards the archer. The first robber, his sword held high, kept at least five paces away from Aron and the others.
“That's far enough,” he rasped.
Aron risked a look over his shoulder at the bowman; his bow was still half bent, the arrow ready to fly in a split second, but as Aron watched the man began to twitch. Aron heard an angry buzz as the bowman flicked his hood at the air around him. The point of the arrow wavered as the man tossed his head around and then with a scream, dropped the arrow to beat at the air around him with the bow and his free hand.
Aron turned and drew his sword in one smooth motion and charged the robber. The swordsman, distracted by his comrade's screams, was barely in time to meet Aron's attack. He just pa
rried the thrust at his throat, but it left him off balance to meet the next. Aron's blade slashed through hood and cheek, laying bare his teeth. The man screamed in pain, but turned his blade to meet the next attack. Aron stepped back a pace.
“Get that archer,” Aron yelled to Maldwyn and Davo who were staring open-mouthed at the spectacle before them.
Maldwyn turned and ran towards the archer, who was still flailing wildly at the air. Davo dived into the undergrowth. Aron stepped forward to resume his attack with a thrust that changed direction at the last moment and laid open the robber's thigh. The man shrieked in pain, dropped his sword and fell to his knees clutching at his wounded leg.
“Mercy, master, mercy,” he sobbed. “I'm just a poor man. I never meant you no harm.”
Aron paused for a single breath, and then slashed the grovelling man through the throat. Blood sprayed across the grass as Aron turned to face the other robbers who hesitated for less than a heartbeat before running for the undergrowth.
Aron watched them flee and then bent to clean his blade on the dead man's tunic. Araiminta watched him but said nothing. Maldwyn walked up carrying the bow the archer had discarded in his flight.
“He surrendered,” Maldwyn whispered hoarsely. “You killed him after he surrendered.”
Aron stared at him for a moment. “Don't they execute robbers in Nandor?” he said, his voice cold and even.
“Quite right, young man,” said Araiminta firmly. “I know these men. They would have taken everything we had and very probably killed us all.”
Aron walked to where his horse stood and began to collect his scattered gear. Maldwyn stood looking at the body, his face pale. Davo emerged from the undergrowth.
“He’s real good, int he?” said Davo. “Best I ever seen.”
“I've never seen a man killed like that before, not close to,” said Maldwyn softly. “I didn't realise there'd be so much blood.”
Then he turned and ran for the undergrowth, a hand over his mouth. Davo sniggered then knelt beside the body and began to rummage through the dead man’s pockets.
Aron began repacking the gear, joined after a minute by Davo, and when Maldwyn reappeared they mounted up and rode off along the path without a word.
The sun was well on to the west when they reached the junction with a larger path.
“This is the road to the Holy City,” said Araiminta. “Now I must leave you if I am to reach my cottage before dark.”
“How can I thank you for your kindness?” said Aron, wondering if he should dip into their small fund of coin to give her something.
“I did but hear my Lady's voice and do her bidding. Her favour is reward enough. I pray she will continue to watch over you as she has done so far.”
“The bees, you mean?” said Aron. “I thought that was you.”
“Nay,” Araiminta shook her head. “I do not have that sort of power. That was most likely my Lady's work, though she did not speak to me.”
“It was a most fortunate coincidence if not,” said Aron. “How long is her reach? Will she still be able to watch over us when we get to the Holy City?”
“I really don't know,” replied Araiminta after a moment's thought. “There was a shrine in the Holy City. I know where it stood, but I don't know if it still exists. She may still have some presence there. Keep her in your heart and she may find you.”
So saying she turned and strode off down the path. Aron watched the sturdy figure until she vanished round a bend in the path and then turned his horse's head towards the Holy City.
***
“My Lord, I have news” said Nicoras from the doorway of the chamber. Lord Hercival looked up from the hound he was petting.
“What is it?” he said sharply.
Nicoras stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Earl Baldwin of Nandor and his household are on the road to the Holy City.”
“That is most interesting,” said Hercival steepling his fingers. “What possible business could they have there? Baldwin of Nandor hasn't been to court for years without number, so why go now?”
“Seeking husbands for his daughters perhaps?”
Hercival looked at Nicoras and raised his eyebrows in sceptism. “I suppose that is just possible, but a much more likely explanation is that they are to meet up with Maldwyn and the others.”
“But Tancred said there was nothing planned beyond getting here.”
“Do you believe that?” Hercival stood up to express his point more forcefully. “Tancred of Nandor is a born liar. Not even Baldwin is stupid enough to send out a rescue force with no plan for getting back.”
He was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Enter.”
The door opened and Ezrin stepped into the room looking pleased with himself.
“I have located Maldwyn of Nandor and his companions, my Lord,” the sorcerer said. “They are on the old road from Erkimar to….”
“The Holy City.” Hercival interrupted.
Ezrin stared at him in astonishment. “How could you know that? I have only this minute found them.”
Hercival smiled at him. “Thank you Ezrin, that will be all.”
Ezrin turned slowly and left the room with a baffled look on his face.
“It seems we need to travel to the Holy City, Nicoras,” said Hercival. “We'll need Ezrin, of course, to locate them precisely, and a small squad of men to take them.”
“My Lord? Do you intend to go yourself?”
“It seems I need to. The attempts to capture them have so far failed due to the incompetence of those in charge. Who can I trust to carry this out?” Lord Hercival's voice was hard and unforgiving. “It’s what Grandfather would have done.”
“May I humbly point out that your father quite specifically placed Sarazan in your hands until his return. By leaving you would be disobeying his express command,” said Nicoras cautiously.
Hercival scowled at him but said nothing.
“I also see no alternative to informing the Duke of the situation as soon as we arrive in the Holy City,” Nicoras continued. “It would look most odd if we do not, and he is in any event, certain to find out about it. You know very well it is impossible to keep anything hidden from his spies.”
Hercival's scowl deepened.
“Furthermore I have grave doubts about the legality of seizing Maldwyn and the others in the Holy City. We could end up in the High King's dungeons.”
“Enough!” Hercival pounded his fist on the table startling the hound so that it barked at him. He kicked out at the dog, his boot catching it in the ribs. The hound yelped in pain and sought refuge under the table. “Your point is made. I will stay here and entrust this to you. You will seek out my father and tell of all that has passed, but by the time you do that I want Maldwyn of Nandor in your hands. You can use that lizard Tancred to entrap him. And I want Aron of Darien dead.”
CHAPTER 24
“May the Gods deliver me from men like Baldwin of Nandor.” Petter, Lord Tirellan stretched himself theatrically out on a couch. “It’s such a relief to be back amongst cultured people, Cristoff.”
“Who is he, and where is Nandor?” asked his steward.
“No-one of any significance from the far back of beyond. Gods, I need a drink.”
Cristoff stepped to the door and opened it enough to call an order to the page who stood in the corridor. “He served your purposes nicely enough, Petter. A respectable country Earl to travel with, it could hardly have been better. No-one would dare ambush such a party.”
“I know, but I found him such hard work. He knows nothing of art or music. All he wanted to talk about were his hounds or that land dispute with Sarazan.” Lord Tirellan mimed an expansive yawn. “I lost count of the number of times I vowed to strangle him with his own bootlaces just to get away from the sound of his voice.”
Cristoff plumped a couple of cushions and slipped them under his
lordship’s thighs. “Such are the travails the chivalrous knight must endure. I know how you love playing the hero, my Lord, but is it really worth it?”
“ Not if it means spending my life with men like Baldwin, I’d rather take poison.” Lord Tirellan pulled a sour face. “Fortunately I will have some time here in the company of civilised men, Cristoff. My Lord Caldon’s next move is likely to be northward.”
“Northward? What’s there up there that’s worth the effort?”
“Silver. The barbarians have mines in the mountains, and my Lord needs to replenish his coffers. Those Saxish clansmen were exceedingly expensive. Besides the move threatens no-one and fits very nicely with his stance of penitent; so he bids me to seduce the great men around the throne. Sing them songs of peace and reassurance, he said.”
“I can think of no-one better as a seducer. I’m less certain of the singing.”
“Thank you so kindly, Cristoff. You know, I think Lady Celaine of Nandor might prove useful here. There’s certain to be a lot of functions to attend, and I’ll need a lady on my arm. One has certain expectations to fulfill and she is so touchingly naïve.”
“Quite. I imagine we’ll have to dress her of course.”
“Oh of course. Can you imagine what she’d turn up in otherwise? It would certainly be woollen.”
Cristoff turned away in mock disgust. “I doubt that she has ever worn a scrap of silk. I don’t suppose she can dance a step either, poor child.”
“I’ll have to invite her to dine here first then. I wonder what her table manners are like? And I suppose I’ll have to endure her dreadful father once more,” said Lord Tirellan pulling a face.