The queen turned to me.
“Bram Tan Heth – in one night you have proven the need for court wizardry. Majira had already convinced me weeks ago – but surely this will convince the court,” she said, then put her hand on my shoulder. “Now, go save my daughter. Earn the right to build your college!”
Hope swelled within me – surely this was providence. From the jaws of malice I would not only snatch a worthy pupil – I would also snatch my dream of a college. From the crucible of malignant powers I would construct a seat of war against the Twin Pillars of Woe…
“I will not fail you,” I said to the queen, grinning.
I looked to Majira, supine upon her sickbed. Even she managed a feeble smile, waving me on with a pale hand, mouthing the word - go.
I turned to run out the door, but stopped.
I was forgetting something crucial.
“Now, before I go – I may need to borrow a horse.”
58
Herace
The sun was finally breaking over the mountains; blessed, blessed sunlight. None of us had slept – aside from the unman, of course, who remained mercifully oblivious to her surroundings.
Ortham and I remained on guard until Dawn returned from her dream delving. When she did, she was shocked; horrified. The waking world she had left behind was far different from the one she returned to. Bodies smouldered; brush was turned to ash, and trees smoked like snuffed-out torches.
The worst part was, she hadn’t even been successful. She didn’t know how to dream delve by herself; all she saw was darkness.
So the three of us waited, listening beneath the spectral light of the chromatic moons, straining to anticipate the next assault. Waiting, waiting… every breath of wind set us on edge. At any moment we expected a mass of Shade-folk to burst from the shadows, chittering and wailing, ready to flay the flesh from our bones.
Thankfully, none came.
And when the sun finally did crawl over the mountains, casting long shadows of needle peaks upon the hills below, we all breathed an exhausted sigh of relief.
I sat slouched upon a boulder, sabre gripped loosely in my left hand. I felt awful, having had barely a wink of sleep all night after nearly a week of hard riding. My arm and leg, too, ached in the morning chill. Summer was passing; it was late in the season now. The days were shortening, the nights getting longer. It would be harvest season in Plin Oèn soon…
Ortham and Dawn were leaning against each other’s backs, one looking north and the other south. I think their plan had been for Ortham to use Dawn’s reserve if the time came - and hope it didn’t shred his soul in the process. Luckily it never came to that.
As the slope brightened, the ominous sense of dread that had hung over us like a fog was dispersed. Ortham got to his feet and helped Dawn up. They shambled over to me, arms tucked into their cloaks to ward off the morning chill. They both looked haggard, with dark bags under their weary eyes. I’m sure I looked the same.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat up straighter. I dared not give the impression that I was worried; I had a reputation to uphold, after all. I had already slipped up last night when I confided my concern over the unman; I couldn’t let that happen again.
“Good morning, you two,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Looks like it’ll be a warm day. Not a cloud in the sky.”
They didn’t respond. Ortham looked particularly grim. They both set about clearing the camp, packing away bedrolls. But they didn’t saddle the horses.
Once they were done they came and sat by me. Their shoulders were hunched. It was silent for a long time; they both stared down to the hills below.
“I think we’re stuck,” Ortham said aloud.
“Stuck? What do you mean?” I asked.
“Herace…” Dawn began, “I don’t think we can get through Sythir Eaoghn. Not before sundown. Not in our state.”
“What? Of course we can!” I exclaimed. “I’ve made it through in a single day of hard riding before. Of course it’s possible.”
Dawn sighed. She gestured to my sling, to the sleeping figure by the scattered campfire.
“I’m sure you have, but like this? Our horses are already tired; you’re broken. And we have the wounded to consider. She’s no easy burden,” Dawn replied, clearly disheartened.
“And I’ve done it before too,” Ortham continued. “And it was a full, hard day riding. It’s already an hour past sunrise as it is… frankly, I don’t know if we can make it through.”
I stood up. I was dismayed by their defeated attitude.
“But what other choice do we have?” I said, waving my sabre westward. “We have to try! We won’t last another night out here, I can tell you that much.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Ortham cautiously replied. “Dawn has plenty of energy in reserve for me to use. And if we wait another day, maybe the horses will be better rested. It’ll give us a better chance.”
“So the horses will be a little more rested. Not enough to justify risking another night out here, inviting our throats to be slit!” I exclaimed. “What if tonight they rally a hundred low folk? Two hundred? Then what?”
“I’m just saying, we can head up the slope, get into a more defensible position. Give ourselves a better chance,” he replied.
I was getting frustrated by their lack of determination. Looking skyward I could see we had already lost an hour of daylight; we would only have twelve or thirteen more.
I slammed my sabre into its scabbard and walked over to the horses.
If they didn’t want to try, then I would. They would have to follow.
“Herace,” Dawn called. “Don’t be like this.”
“I’m not being like anything,” I replied, stooping to pick up my saddle.
It was awkward trying to pick it up with one arm. Ortham stood up to help me but I told him not to try. I was going to make a point.
After a few minutes of awkward fumbling I gave up. I cursed aloud and kicked the saddle.
Dawn tried soothing me, still sitting with Ortham on the boulder, but I waved her away. I wasn’t in the mood.
I hung my head and breathed out. I just needed a moment to gather my wits before trying to convince them again…
Then movement caught my eye.
I looked over to the scattered campfire – to the sleeping unman.
Could it be…?
I took a step toward her – as I did, her eyes fluttered open; she tilted her head.
“Hey… hey!” I cried. “Ortham! Dawn! She’s awake!”
They leapt to their feet as I fell to my knees beside her. She was just coming out of a deep sleep; her eyes were bleary, her movements languid. She blinked hard and looked up at me.
Those eyes… they were pools of bright, glacial blue. My heart skipped a beat as I gazed down on her beautiful face…
Her listless movements suddenly sharpened; she lashed out with her right arm and grabbed me by the shirt. She opened her mouth, revealing sharp teeth.
“The… slave…” she said in a whispery voice.
Dawn and Ortham arrived beside me; I put my hand to the unman’s arm and gently tried to relax her grip upon my shirt. Her eyes were ablaze, and I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The what?” I asked quietly.
She let go of my shirt and winced as she touched her bandaged left shoulder. Her arm was in a snugly-bound sling, keeping it tight to her chest.
“No, no. Don’t touch that. You’re hurt,” I said.
She glanced around, confusion etched onto her features.
“Where…” she breathed.
“Safe. You’re safe,” I replied gently, trying to calm her.
She was clearly anxious. I would be too, given the circumstances – injured at the foot of a foreign mountain range, surrounded by sworn enemies.
She grabbed back onto my arm and looked intensely into my eyes.
“No… the slave…” she whispered again. “The uyrguk…”
“The uyrguk?” I repeated.
She nodded.
I glanced back to Ortham and Dawn. We shared a reluctant look. We all understood what she meant now.
I turned back to her and shook my head solemnly.
I think she understood. She closed her eyes. Tears welled up at the corners. But she did not make a sound – she let them run freely down the side of her face.
Ortham and Dawn walked away, probably wanting to give her peace to mourn. But I sat down next to the warrior-maiden and waited for her to reopen her eyes.
“Why…” I heard her whisper as I stared out to the mountain slopes.
I breathed out through my nose. She didn’t have to clarify what she meant; I knew exactly what she was asking. The problem was, I just didn’t have an answer. Not a clear one. Not one I could put into words.
I reached over and grabbed a waterskin. I unstoppered it with my teeth and offered her a drink. She lifted her head and I carefully let her sip. She spluttered once, but other than that was fine. She must have been incredibly thirsty; she had slept for two full days.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
She cleared her throat.
“Shi’iran-daz-ithrav,” she replied.
I blinked hard. I didn’t get a single syllable from what she said.
“Sorry, what?” I asked.
She smiled – it was the first time I saw her smile. The sharp teeth were, admittedly, a little odd. But I didn’t mind - my heart fluttered anyway. Never had I imagined I would be so taken by someone – someone I didn’t even know. An unman, no less.
“They call me Daze,” she replied in her heavy accent.
“Daze? Bit strange… how about Daisy?” I asked.
She shifted in her bedroll, and I recognized it as a half-hearted shrug. There was just no way I could pronounce her real name – and Daisy, I thought, was a pretty one.
“Well, Daisy, my name is Herace,” I said.
I was going to do the whole ‘Herace the Redeemed, Prince of Plin Oèn’ bit, but I thought against it – I had already introduced myself to her before. To her I would just be Herace.
Then a shadow passed over me. The sound of hooves upon the ground was accompanied by equine snorts. I looked up.
Ortham and Dawn had led the horses over to us, saddled up and ready to go. I was surprised.
“Alright Herace. You’ve convinced us,” Dawn said.
I got to my feet.
“Is she well enough to stand?” Ortham asked, nodding to the warrior-maiden – the warrior-maiden now known as Daisy.
I looked down to her; she struggled to sit up. I put my good arm behind her back and raised her into a seated position. Dawn came over to help her stand. Daisy’s legs were weak, but eventually she was up.
My, she was tall… and even dressed in the patchwork of cloaks and stolen garb, she was still beautiful.
“Where… where are we?” she asked.
“Between a rock and a hard place,” Ortham replied. “Shall we mount up?”
The four of us managed to lift her into Ortham’s saddle. Then Dawn helped me get into my own.
I rode before them and struck up a knightly pose. I pointed out to the low, dark hills.
“We need to ride fast. We’re headed west; keep tight together, and we may yet survive the day,” I said. “Beyond those hills lies home!”
And with that I turned about and galloped toward the blighted fens of Sythir Eaoghn with the rising sun upon my back.
59
Dawn
Herace spurred his horse forward, down the easing slopes of the mountain pass.
I didn’t know if we’d survive; I didn’t know if we should have stayed, or if we should have charged after him.
But down the slopes we rode, down toward the murky ravines and stunted trees of Sythir Eaoghn.
The unman was now awake, and I don’t know why, but it looked like Herace was… smitten. As he let her drink from his waterskin I saw a touch of tenderness in him; a gentleness I had never quite seen before from him. He was reckless, he was proud, he was noble; but caring?
Maybe it was the Maker’s whisper, the divine dream. How else could I explain his care for a foreigner, a foe?
Yet she did not act as a foe. Not now. Perhaps our mercy had her subdued – I did not know the customs, the attitudes of her strange land. But I would like to think our mercy was the key.
Soon we were on the cusp of the gloomy hills. The gnarled branches of tumoured trees greeted us; noxious weeds choked their twisting trunks. The air was cool and damp and smelled of swamp, of decaying vegetation and brackish water.
All was quiet, all was still but for the thunder of our hoofbeat.
Something whistled overhead.
“Keep going!” Herace shouted, spurring his horse.
I ducked low, hugging my horse’s neck; an arrow flew by. The surrounding woods exploded into a blood-curdling chorus of fiendish war cries.
Low folk seemed to appear from everywhere; crawling from the coiling brush, from behind the bloated trunks of sickly trees. Their eyes were wild, their teeth blackened.
The hooves of Herace’s mount trampled one unlucky boggart into the mud. I heard shrill screams as we passed over its mangled body. But there was no stopping now; we had to ride or be overrun!
Ortham unleashed a gout of fire behind him, blocking their pursuit; agonized shrieks sounded above the roar of flames.
“Look out!” Herace yelled, calling my attention forward again.
Shambling out from a thicket appeared a nightmarish figure; a many-limbed horror with dark, fleshy appendages; it loomed overhead, rising out from the tangle of thorns in which it hid. At the end of a long, goose-like neck snapped a maw of needle-teeth, dripping with black tar. My mind cried out – never had I seen such a baleful creature in the waking world. Never could I have imagined a horror such as this, so unnatural – a beast formed from the fears of a hundred folk, loping through the unhallowed climes of this neglected, fetid hill-country.
It lashed out at me, missing my horse by a hair. We charged past the nightmare-beast; my heart pounded.
“Dawn!” Ortham shouted. “I’m all out!”
The monster loped after us, each limb carrying its flailing head closer; it loomed over us, tall as the canopy.
We galloped through the brush – I was on the verge of panic. An aura of dread seemed to emanate from the beast – I felt my mind being dragged into a morass of hopelessness. Its spidery legs dragged its body through the woods, striding with ease over the undulating hills. We plunged down into a narrow ravine; the thing barely broke pace.
I turned around in my saddle. I knew what to do – the only thing I could do. I raised my hand to the oncoming creature, trying to take aim as I was jostled in the saddle.
I loosed a ragged bolt of fulgimantic energy at the beast – I felt the energy burst through my soul. I was blinded by the flash; a clap like thunder echoed through the ravine.
The beast tumbled down, collapsing into a heap of twisted limbs. The head flopped into the muck. Its eyes and mouth steamed, and a long tongue lolled out from between its needle teeth.
Herace whooped triumphantly; even Ortham and his passenger shouted an exultant cry. We left the wicked beast far behind, galloping on, horses straining beneath us.
We didn’t slow until we had put a safe distance between us and the ambush. We slackened our pace to a walk – the horses were bagged. My heart still pounded; I was jittery.
“What was that thing?” I stuttered.
“Those things don’t really have a name,” Herace replied from up ahead. “Each one is different from the next. They crawl out from the Shade. We hunt them whenever we find them.”
I was still shaking. Herace and his friends must have been mad to go looking for monsters like that.
I looked over to Ortham. He
was struggling with something down by his right leg; I was on his left and couldn’t see what he was doing. The unman had her unslung arm wrapped around his waist, with the reins in that hand.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I got a slap from one of those damned goblins,” Ortham grunted. “Nothing bad. Just wrapping it up now.”
I slowed my horse and directed it around Ortham’s.
I inhaled sharply when I saw his leg. He was fumbling with a strip of his cloak, trying to wrap it around his thigh. There was a long gash running almost from his knee to his hip; his hands were slippery with blood.
He insisted we keep riding a ways further before stopping to take a look at it. In the meantime he twisted up a shoddy tourniquet and grit his teeth.
We halted at a stream an hour or so later to let the horses drink. The banks were muddy, but the water was clear. This part of Sythir Eaoghn was less swampy; the closer we got to Céin Urthia, the less moribund the land became. According to Herace, the Shade was found thickest deep in the hills.
I was the only one who dismounted by the river. I was the only one who wasn’t injured, and we needed to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. Danger could lurk around every bend.
The first thing I did was tend to Ortham’s wound. The blood had pooled in his boot; I emptied my waterskin over the wound and he hissed against the pain.
“Just glad it was me and not my horse,” he said through gritted teeth.
I quickly dressed the wound with the supplies the healer had left with us to change the unman’s bandages. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, but I did the best I could. There was no way to close up the gash, and just looking at it made me lightheaded. But I had to be strong; I had to do the job because no one else could.
Once I was done I washed my hands in the creek. I was still a little shaky from the whole ordeal; the ambush, the horrid creature, the magick. And then to top it all off with Ortham’s wound… it was best not to think about any of it. I had to just focus on getting back home.
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 48