We caught up to Majira in the meadow. She was headed for the horses.
“I hate to have to leave,” she sighed, not slowing her stride. “But Lyrèlie was foolish to mention anything to those dream-thiefs. Her excitement got the better of her…”
Herace and Ortham quickly saddled their horses. Majira and I did the same, albeit slower, without the militant efficiency that they had so practiced.
“So where are we going?” Herace asked, turning his horse about.
“I’m not quite sure,” Majira replied, adjusting herself in the saddle. “I still need to see where he is.”
“Are you serious?” Herace said in disbelief. “So we’re just riding out of here without a clue of our destination? That seems a bit ridiculous.”
Majira shot him a withering look.
“My communication was cut short. Then he was supposed to meet me in the dreamscape, but never appeared. Then, when I went to dream delve in search of him, I could not find him. But he was last at Valethucia.”
“Valethucia? That’s a month’s journey away, at least!” Herace exclaimed, throwing up a hand. “Likely longer! There aren’t any roads from here to there. We’ll have to take the riverways.”
“I don’t think he stayed in Valethucia. I think he left. But that isn’t the issue at hand, Prince Herace. The issue at hand is getting Princess Dawn out of here and on the move so she cannot be found,” Majira replied, her calm air returning to her. “Now, let us ride.”
She snapped the reins and dug in her heels and rode into the trees.
Herace followed after, muttering under his breath. Ortham shrugged at me.
“Onward, I suppose,” he said, and took up the trail. I rode up behind them.
We rode at a good pace through the verdant woods. Flowers glittered in the morning light, petals every colour imaginable. I plucked one from an overhanging creeper as I rode by. It was a beautiful thing, shaped like a powder blue trumpet with a yellow tongue. I tried to think of anything to distract me from the panic – I hated the thought that someone could be hunting me at that moment, following close behind.
We descended a vale and I saw the grim thickets of Sythir Eaoghn beyond. Soon we would be out of Glenn Mereillon, out of this hidden enclave and back into the sordid mires and muddy hills.
As we descended into the final vale a small voice caught our attention. We looked behind us. Lyrèlie was waving from the trees, surrounded by a cloud of fae.
“Goodbye! Remember, you know how to find me!” she said at the top of her voice.
She seemed happy again, as if nothing had happened, as if a few moments ago she hadn’t been crying. Mercurial folk, the fae. We all waved heartily back, Majira most of all.
And with that we rode out of Glenn Mereillon and into Sythir Eaoghn.
The sun dampened, the air cooled, and the smell of floral perfume soured to rotting wood. Even the colours seemed to fade. Perhaps it was because Glenn Mereillon was soaked in fae magick, and Sythir Eaoghn was tainted by the Shade, but crossing this divide was jarring. And, looking back not twenty strides away, there was no sign of the fae enclave to be seen. It was hidden seamlessly in the drab landscape.
“Now we just have to find my friends… well, and Perethon. They were camped nearby. It’ll just take me a moment to get my bearings…” Herace muttered.
“I think we came out further south than when we entered. If that’s even possible. I don’t understand fae magick,” said Ortham, scanning around.
Majira and I hung back as those two murmured amongst themselves, trying to find our way back to where the Royal Guard were waiting. They couldn’t have been far.
“So, who exactly are we looking for? To teach me, I mean. Your acquaintance,” I asked Majira.
“His name is Bram. Magus Bram Tan Heth. I hear they now call him Bram Tan Heth the Mad. We haven’t spoken in…quite some time,” she said. “We studied at the College of Valethucia together, many years ago, when we were both young. He even came to visit the court of Tir Urth when your uncle was king. Bram was brilliant… still is. You’ll be in good hands.”
Bram Tan Heth the Mad… I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Lyrèlie tried to help me by sending me to an evil toad who steals secrets, and now Majira was trying to help me by sending me to study with a mad mage. I suppose dire situations really did require dire action. Either way, I wanted to make the decision myself. I was done having every decision forced upon me, done with being a victim of circumstance.
I sighed as I watched Ortham and Herace bicker like old ladies over which way to go.
At least everyone was trying.
23
Herace
At last we found Perethon and my friends. They were camped where we left them – but somehow, when we exited Glenn Mereillon, we appeared much further south than I expected. Which meant Ortham was right, and he knew it, so I didn’t mention it.
We barely had a moment of rest after riding into camp before Dawn took charge. Which surprised me, and everyone else. They all looked up from their various states of repose, armour doffed and on the ground.
“Perethon,” she began, sitting imperiously atop her horse, “Send a pair of your fastest guards back to Naraya. Tell the queen that we are heading north, to Valethucia. The rest of you Royal Guard will be coming with me. We have little time, so make haste.”
Perethon, much to his credit, didn’t even blink an eye before ordering two centaurs to get up and get going.
Having already dismounted, I hurried over to Dawn’s side and subtly caught her attention. She leaned over in the saddle to hear what I had to say.
“Hey, don’t you think we should figure out our route first? You know, let Queen Boralia know, just in case… I mean, she might even want to send another contingent of Royal Guard. Like an escort…”
Dawn looked down on me, brow furrowed.
“Really? Herace the Redeemed, telling me to be cautious?”
“Woah, I never said be cautious,” I said, trying to defend my reputation as a hot-blooded cavalier. “I just think, at this point, we should… I don’t know, be careful.”
“’Careful’ and ‘cautious’ are the same thing, Herace,” Ortham chimed in from out of nowhere.
He appeared from the other side of Dawn’s horse, grinning. I gave him a dirty look.
“You aren’t helping here,” I said to him, before turning my attention back to Dawn. “I just really think we should at least let your mother know our route. Because you can be damned certain that if she doesn’t know it, she’ll send half the standing army out to bring you back.”
Dawn seemed to contemplate my words for a moment. The two centaurs who had been chosen as couriers were still donning their armour.
“Alright, fine. You always know what way to go. So you tell them what route we’ll take. Is that fair?” she asked.
“Yeah, that sounds fair,” I relented, still smarting from Dawn calling me ‘cautious.’
I’m not cautious, I’m daring and fun and exciting.
I went over to the two centaurs. They were getting help with their bronze cuirasses, the final bit of their armour. Huge claymores were strapped to their flanks. Once they were suited up, they each grabbed a long, thin lance from the ground.
“Before you go,” I said, getting their attention, “the princess would like to relay a message to the queen.”
They nodded for me to continue. Which was a shame, because I wasn’t exactly certain of the route myself yet. All I knew was that going straight north from here would take far too long; but if we headed south, travelled along the coast, then chartered a river boat north we could cut our time in half or better.
“Our destination is Valethucia, but we’ll head to the southern ports, along the coast, before turning north and up the riverways.” I said. “That’s about all I have to say.”
The centaurs shared a quick, uncertain look. My message wasn’t exactly detailed. But I also didn’t know th
e precise route yet, either. Anyway, I was sure we could just send a message somehow once we actually knew. Majira was a sorceress, they could do those sorts of magicky things. Or we could just buy a courier fae once we got into the port cities, send it to Naraya. I wasn’t too concerned.
So I just left it as is. The centaurs departed a moment later.
The rest of the Royal Guard moved about, scattering campfires and breaking up the small encampment. Lyrandor immediately approached me, helmet on, antlers sprouting gloriously upward. A pang of jealously shot through me and I had to refrain from touching the stubs on my own head. They were growing. Slowly, but they were growing…
“Herace, good to see you back. Glad you weren’t cursed to sleep forever in fae-land,” he said, giving me a friendly tap with his mailed glove.
“Naturally. I see you’re all ready to mount up, eh?”
“Quite. We all are… but, I do have to tell you something,” he began hesitantly. “Maeral, Tibaron and I won’t be able to attend you on the whole journey, you see. Valethucia is very far away, and we still have our estates to tend to…”
I should have thought of that. In fact, I should have thought about my own estate. Not that it really needed my guidance; it survived my three months in the dungeon.
“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t hold you back,” I replied. “But I just thought you’d like to know, we’re headed south first. To the port cities.”
Lyrandor’s face changed from bearer-of-bad-news to happily surprised.
“The port cities? My, we haven’t been there in an age!” he smiled.
“I haven’t been there since the war,” I said, giving him a fraternal nudge with my elbow. “Not since we were lanced up with the Guardians. Those were the days, eh?”
“Those were certainly the days,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Safon again… it’ll be just like old times!”
“It certainly would be. So, what do you say? Escort us down to Safon, see the coast?”
“That would be a yes from me. And you can bet your finest pig that Tibaron and Maeral will come along. I’ll just go tell them,” he said enthusiastically, and turned on his heel.
I was pretty content with the way things were going. There was a certain energy in the air, an excitement. It was the same feeling I got when I went on campaign; that I was doing something big, something dangerous – like no one knew what was just over the horizon, and neither did I. And it felt amazing.
I’d fight a Witch. I’d fight a Disciple of the Void. I’d fight the whole Empire of Un, take on every nook and cranny of the Witchlands. And I didn’t even care who won. Nothing could bring me down.
“Herace!”
I groaned.
It was Majira.
She stormed over to me, arms already crossed. She only ever seemed to lose her temper at me. I don’t know why.
“Have you been telling these folk that we’re headed south?” she asked, tapping her bare foot on the ground.
“Well, yeah,” I replied.
Her green eyes flashed with anger. The more time I spent around this fiery-headed sorceress, the more I was seeing through her calm and collected surface.
“Why would you ever tell anyone that? We’re supposed to ride north to Valethucia! Princess Dawn has chosen to train with Magus Bram Tan Heth.”
“I know. She’s going to learn magick from the mad mage or whatever. I’m aware,” I said. “But riding north from here would take way too long. It’s a trackless wilderness! We’re far better off riding south, heading along the coast, then turning north by river boat. Trust me.”
She didn’t quite seem convinced.
“Look, I know it might seem counter-productive to go south then north, but it’ll also be safer. We’ll be in Vindayan territory half the time. The elvish rivers are well-patrolled. It’ll be fine,” I said. “And faster!”
Majira closed her eyes and exhaled one long, drawn-out breath.
“I just don’t think you understand. The College of Valethucia was where Bram was last. I don’t know where he is now. We were supposed to dream delve, to meet, but he never came… I still need to find him.”
Ah, the irony.
“So you don’t even know where this wizard is. But you’re mad at me for taking an indirect route to where he was last?” I asked, clearly summarizing what she had just said so that she could hear how ridiculous it was.
This is a very dangerous tactic to use on ladies, but I wasn’t afraid. At the time.
“He isn’t a wizard. He’s a magus. And yes, that is what I’m saying, Herace.”
We left it at that.
Soon we were all mounted back up; the six remaining Royal Guard, Perethon, Majira, Dawn, Ortham, my three friends, and of course me in the lead. And all together, under Dawn’s orders, we headed for the southern ports.
But in order to head south we needed to head west. Just like in order to head north we had to head south. Heading west was necessary to limit our time in the low hills of Sythir Eaoghn; no sense in needlessly exposing ourselves to roving low-folk tribes who so haunted these hills. And there were no roads in Sythir Eaoghn; there hadn’t been for many decades. So we had to double-back into Céin Urthia and take the royal roadway.
It took most of the day to reach the border. I enjoyed the tingling thrill of the Sacred ground as we passed through – it was always a highlight of any trip home. Feeling the invigorating energy of this Sacred place reminded me who I was, reminded me of my ancestral duty to protect it. I was a dau noble; a Guardian of the Amber Bower. Prince of Plin Oèn. Pride swelled within me, just as I knew it swelled within Maeral, Lyrandor, and Tibaron. Were we not escorting the very heiress apparent of our kingdom, perfectly fulfilling our duty?
It was with such sunny sentiments that we rode along the royal roadways, passing travellers on our way. They waved their hats as we went by; they likely had no idea what was going on, these farmers and traders, but they could tell it was important. The centaurs remained stony-faced, to no surprise; that was just the way they were. Centaurs prided themselves on their staunch, unbending natures. The rest of us waved or saluted as we rode by. How often did these common folk see a member of royalty along the roadways? Seldom, if ever. And my, we must have made a queer sight; a wild-haired sorceress, a black-clad mage, three liveried knights, seven resplendent guards, the princess herself in a green summer dress. And of course me, leading us all. What a wonderful feeling!
As we passed over a stone bridge a group of young fauns hailed to us as they washed their baskets of clothes in the creek. Tibaron broke away from the cavalcade to prance his horse before them. The girl-fauns laughed and clapped merrily.
“He’s just showing off! He’s never done anything righteous in his life!” Maeral heckled from the road.
The fauns just danced and swished their dresses, giggling all the while, bowing as Princess Dawn crossed over the bridge. She just smiled and waved, straight-backed and elegant atop her horse. It was a sight I couldn’t help but appreciate; all these pretty girl-fauns dancing on the side of the road as a beautiful princess passed by, sunlight glowing on their faces.
“I sure wouldn’t mind spending the afternoon here,” Maeral mused, waving to the girls.
“I wouldn’t mind spending the night here, either,” Lyrandor added.
“Well I’m sure they would mind,” I interjected, and was immediately met with jovial curses.
Tibaron rejoined us, face flushed. We mocked him a bit for showing off. But that was to be expected, and he knew the risk when he made a show of himself.
The rest of the day carried on in such a way; riding south along the royal roadway amid summer’s splendor. By early evening we were in the idyllic forests, broken up by small farm plots that were a trademark of the southerly princedoms. We had bypassed the tallest stands of trees, the deepest woods of Céin Urthia, by cutting south by south-west from Sythir Eoaghn. The heart of the kingdom, the Amber Bower where
in Naraya sat, was far behind us.
That evening we made camp by a roadwarden’s inn. And by ‘we made camp,’ I mean everyone but Princess Dawn and Majira. Perethon and Majira had to convince Dawn to stay at the inn, claiming it was uncouth to have a princess camping outside, in public, in her own kingdom. Which was valid enough. The roadwarden, of course, gave her his best room free of charge. Which I’m sure upset her. We all had a good laugh about it as we sat around our campfire, which I’m also sure she heard from inside.
The sunset that night was brilliant. The sky burned an intense red, gradually fading to pink, then darkening to a sombre purple. I noticed it while I was off relieving myself by an unoccupied hitching post behind the inn and simply couldn’t ignore it. And I soon noticed that I wasn’t alone; Ortham was sitting off by the side of the road, leaning against a fallen tree. I recognized him by his antlerless head and that floppy, wide-brim hat he always wore.
I wandered over and sat next to him. He was staring out into the sunset.
“Sure is beautiful,” I said.
“Yup,” he replied. “Sure is.”
We sat there for a while. The sounds of the night were all around us; crickets chirping, some lonesome bird crying far away in the growing darkness. It was all very peaceful.
“All the way to Valethucia… that’s a long way,” Ortham said contemplatively, still looking out to the darkening place where the sun had retreated.
“A very long way. Hopefully that Bran or Bram or whatever mage-guy is already headed our direction. Would be pretty rude to make a princess travel all that way just to learn how to, like, dream and stuff,” I said.
“Well, to be honest, Dawn is only a princess here, in Céin Urthia. And Céin Urthia isn’t very big… in the grand scheme of things, it’s actually pretty small. Most folk beyond the Bitter Frosts have never even heard of it. And I don’t even know who lives west of here.”
I frowned. I had never really thought of that. I had never really wanted to think of that. Céin Urthia was my home; it was where I was born, and where I intended to die.
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 20