by Matt Heppe
Hadde’s eyes desperately searched for Maret and the children, but they had to be further ahead. Other Idorians, more alert than the man closest to her occasionally glanced out into the forest to either side of their column.
She had only moments before someone turned and saw her. Hadde halted her horse and drew her arrow to her ear. She held her aim for only a moment before releasing the arrow.
It flew true. She should have nocked another arrow. Or turned and ridden away. But instead she watched its flight. The clang as it struck Grax’s helm sounded clear across the quiet forest.
Her joy at her prefect shot immediately fell as her arrow spun off into the forest. Grax pitched forward in his saddle, but the arrow hadn’t penetrated. Hadde turned her horse and fled. She had failed.
A few crossbow bolts flew into the forest after her, but her surprise was too great, and the trees too thick for the Idorians to get a good shot.
Horns sounded and riders came after her. Not wanting to be pushed south, Hadde turned west as she fled. She loosed three arrows at her pursuers, killing one of their horses before they gave up the chase.
She halted her horse and watched as they turned back toward the column. They kept a wary eye on her, but she didn’t loose either of her last two arrows. It was a long shot, and killing one of these men would do nothing to slow the Idorians as they fled the forest.
She hoped that her attack had at least slowed them somewhat. And even if her arrow hadn’t penetrated his helm, she knew Grax had felt it. It had been a solid strike.
Now they know I am alive. And that I haven’t given up.
***
Hadde watched from two arrowflights away as the column of horsemen swam the shallow river and returned to Salador. With only two arrows she could do nothing as they escaped.
“Where are you, Father?” she asked into the forest. “Where are you, Calen?”
Poor Maret kept looking back to the forest for a rescue that wouldn’t come. Even from an arrowflight away, Hadde saw her friend’s misery.
Maret held Orlos, a soldier held Enna. Hadde’s heart broke to see her daughter taken from the forest. A rescue had just become even more difficult.
She saw the Idorians’ joy as they pumped their fists or made rude gestures towards the forest. Some yanked their helmets and arming caps off, as if some magical barrier prevented hidden archers from striking at them.
But no arrows came. No animals or living trees either. Baron Grax had won. A single red forest hawk circled overhead, crying out sorrowful notes against the backdrop of a storm-dark sky.
Worse yet, there had been soldiers there to greet them. Six Saladoran knights and eight crossbowmen on foot. Further back she saw two men holding horses for the crossbowmen. Baron Grax and Captain Saunder rode to them as soon as they crossed the river.
Thunder rumbled overhead, but no rain fell to break the oppressive heat. Soon full night would fall, and Hadde would start her pursuit again. But to what end? How long until the Idorians were safe within castle walls?
At least she would know where they were. Free of the forest, they might just let down their guard. And that might give her a chance at a rescue.
Her horse munched at some listless everbloom. It was dying, all of it. Everywhere she went the delicate, white flowers drooped on their stems. But they were not yet rotted, and the horse did not seem to notice their sad state.
For Hadde there had been nothing to eat all day. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. She kept it filled with water as much as possible, but she could feel the weakness of hunger creeping up on her.
She rode along the edge of the forest looking for a good place to cross the river. The bank was steep and unstable, so she headed for the Idorian crossing point. And then, for the first time in days, she saw something that gave her hope. She saw Calen with two Landomeri. He had made it. And found help.
Please let there be more.
They made no effort to hide themselves, but simply stood at the edge of forest and watched as the Idorians rode north. They had horses with them. Hadde saw Quickstep and Calen’s horse Wind. Hadde rode to them.
“Hadde, I thought you dead!” Calen said. “I saw you fall with an arrow in your shoulder.”
“The Great Spirit saved me,” Hadde said as she reined in and dismounted. “But at a terrible cost I fear.” She looked over Calen’s Landomeri companions. At least she thought them Landomeri. The two women had the dark hair and high cheekbones of the Landomeri, but the taller one’s attire was half Saladoran. She wore trousers and a short tunic, but they were decorated with Landomeri beadwork. The shorter, younger Landomeri wore a breechcloth and leggings and a longer tunic. Both carried long bows as tall as themselves, but without the graceful curves of western Landomeri bows.
“I found friends, but it seems we are too late.” Calen nodded in the direction of the Saladorans.
Too late. He didn’t know how the words hurt her. “Thank you for coming,” Hadde said to the Landomeri.
“They are from Riverbend,” Calen said. He motioned to the taller woman. “This is Dyna. And that is Sarre.”
“Are there more of you?” Hadde asked. She was glad to see them, but two Landomeri with Calen would hardly make a difference.
“There are more of us,” Dyna said, motioning off to the east. “They will be here soon. You are the Hadde who slew Akinos?”
“I am.”
“Calen told us it was you,” Sarre said. “And those men stole your child and Orlos the Spiridus?”
“They did and I mean to get them back. And Orlos’s mother as well.”
“We came because it is the Way of the Forest,” Sarre said. “And because of the great debt we all owe you. You killed Akinos and ended the Wasting.”
“It had to be done. I took no pleasure in it.” Akinos didn’t even know the damage he was doing. He only wanted to save the world. And he saved my life.
“Is Orlos really a spiridus?” Dyna suddenly asked.
“He is. When his mother and I returned to Landomere, the Great Spirit spoke to us. She thanked us for bringing Orlos back.”
“And life returned to Landomere,” Sarre said.
Dyna shook her head. “I don’t know how we will do this. Baron Tomar’s men greeted the Idorians.”
“Who is Baron Tomar?” Hadde asked.
“He’s the Saladoran lord whose lands border Landomere here,” Sarre said. “He’s a good man. We can speak with him, can’t we Dyna?”
“I see little other choice. We can’t fight him,” Dyna said. Hadde was about to object when Dyna said, “We trade with Baron Tomar. We know him and he knows us. And he knows where we live.”
Hadde glanced back at the retreating Idorians. It was late afternoon and the shadows were long. But it was summer and dark would not fall for some time. “How long until they reach safety? Will they be in a castle tonight?”
“They will make it well before nightfall,” Dyna said.
“We should attempt a rescue before then,” Hadde said. “Once they are in the keep it will be far more difficult.”
“Weren’t you listening?” Dyna asked. “We cannot anger Baron Tomar. Certainly not based on stories we have just been told.”
“Stories? You doubt my word?” Hadde didn’t hide her anger. She snatched the Spiridus Token from under her tunic. “You see this? This is the token Landomere gave me! Orlos the Spiridus wore a token identical to it. The child Orlos’s mother wears it now. He must return to Landomere.”
Dyna raised her hand to stop Hadde. “I will speak with Baron Tomar. He will listen to us. If Orlos and his mother wish to return to Landomere I am certain he will let them.”
“Baron Grax sent over fifty men into Landomere to get Orlos,” Hadde said. “You can’t really think Baron Tomar will get him to change his mind?”
“He will listen to me. Trust me. I’ve dealt with him before.”
Hadde met Dyna’s gaze, not entirely trusting the not-quite Landomeri woman. “I’ll go with you,”
Hadde said.
“There’s no need. This could take a day or so to work out. And you look as if you need food and rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” Hadde said. “I need to follow them and make certain they don’t escape. I cannot risk losing track of Maret and the children.”
“Very well,” Dyna said. “Come along if you must, but I’m certain they’ll go nowhere for a few days at least. “Sarre, go back to Riverbend and let the elders know what’s going on. I suppose you’ll come with us?” she said to Calen.
Before he could reply Hadde said, “Calen, I haven’t thanked you for what you’ve done. It was hard for you, but you fought well and did the right thing by coming here and finding Riverbend.”
He nodded his thanks, but there was no smile. She remembered when the faintest praise from her would bring an ear-to-ear grin. “I didn’t want to leave you,” he said, “but they left me little choice. And I thought you dead.”
“Well, you did well. Will you do one more thing? I need you to backtrack the Idorian march and find the Long Meadow hunters. They cannot be far behind.” He has changed. He is darker, more serious.
“I will find them.”
“It won’t be necessary,” Dyna said.
“You put too much faith in your Saladoran friend,” Hadde said. “I lived in Sal-Oras. I’ve seen them at their worst.”
“This is not Sal-Oras. We’ve lived with Baron Tomar for many years. He will help us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Hadde said. “Let’s go. I don’t want the Saladorans to steal away.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Nidon waded out into the stream, splashing water at the naked Hadde swimming in front of him. He couldn’t believe he had finally made it—that he was finally with her. All his fears had been for naught. Her face had lit up the moment she had seen him.
She was just as beautiful as he had remembered. No soft Saladoran woman wrapped in layers of fabric and long sleeves, but a small woman, athletic and slender. He could lift her with one arm. If he could catch her. He plowed through the water towards her, but something caught his foot and pulled at it. He struggled against the unseen force under that water, dragging him down.
“No!” he called out. Panic welled up. He would be pulled under.
“Sir Nidon! It is me, Rayne. I only wish to remove your boots.”
“Boots, no boots.” Nidon’s head spun as he grappled his way to consciousness. There was a heavy thump as something hit the floor.
“Now your other one,” Rayne said, tugging.
“I love you, Hadde,” Nidon said, slipping back toward unconsciousness.
The tugging paused. “It is me, Rayne.”
Nidon turned back to the elusive Hadde. How could he get to her? She swam too fast for him.
“You cannot escape me forever,” Nidon said. “You’ll have to come to shore sometime.”
“Maybe I’ll swim to the far bank,” she replied with a mischievous smile.
“Your clothes are on this side.”
She shrugged. “What do I care? This is Landomere.”
“Nidon, what is going on?”
Nidon spun toward shore, where Morin stood glaring at him. “Dromost take you! What are you doing here?” Nidon said. He knew instantly that the eternal stood over him as he lay helpless in his bed.
“I tried to wake you,” Morin said, the dream world persisting around them.
“Get out of my head!” Nidon shouted. The world grew hazy as a deep mist surrounded them. Soon only Nidon and Morin remained. Nidon found himself fully clothed standing… where? Even the ground beneath them was insubstantial.
“That is your plan?” Morin asked. “Leave everything behind and find her?”
“Wake me up and get out of my head,” Nidon demanded. He tried to rouse himself to the conscious world, but failed. “Why are you holding me here?”
“You’ve been poisoned,” Morin said. “I can feel it in you.”
“Poisoned? What are you talking about?”
“Maybe drugged is the better word. It isn’t meant to kill you.”
“What? Why?”
“Think, Nidon, why would someone want you drugged?”
“The tournament.”
Morin nodded. “Someone wants you to lose. And she is worried that you might kill her precious varcolac.”
“Before today I would have thought it beneath her to do such a thing,” Nidon said. “But I think that is how she is holding king Boradin. I found herbs outside the king’s door when Prince Handrin and I were stopped. She is sedating him.”
“My brother must be freed. Only then can the Orb of Creation be rescued. That is your duty, not chasing some fantasy in Landomere.”
“I know my duty! Why do you think I agreed to the tournament? I would have won the fight and then demanded to see the king. And then I would have left.”
“To chase your love in Landomere.”
“Dromost take you.”
Morin laughed.
Nidon struggled against the fog that enshrouded him, desperately attempting to claw to consciousness. Rage at his helplessness filled him, but even the strength of his anger could not burn through the silent bonds trapping him.
“Swear it to me, Nidon,” Morin said. “Swear that you will not leave until the king is freed.”
“That was my plan. I am not doing it for you.”
“I know,” Morin said. “You have no secrets from me. I just want you to say the words. Say them so that if you change your mind you’ll know that you are an oath breaker.”
“Dromost take you. I swear it.”
Morin strode closer. As he approached he raised his hands to Nidon’s face. Nidon tried to fend Morin off, but found himself unable to move, frozen in place by some unseen force.
What are you doing? He couldn’t even speak; the thoughts tumbled from his mind. Morin wordlessly placed his hands on Nidon's face and the power of the Orb of Creation struck him like a thunderbolt.
***
Nidon stared out the open flap of his tent to the tournament grounds beyond. A huge crowd had gathered to watch the match, but despite their numbers they were sullen and quiet. Even the grounds were nothing like any past tournament Nidon had ever seen. No pennons or banners decorated the viewing stands; there was no music, and few vendors hawked their goods to the audience. The event was grim.
Rayne tugged at the chinstrap of Nidon’s helm. “Done?” Nidon asked.
The boy nodded. “Yes, Sir Nidon.” The boy’s face was as morose as those Nidon saw outside.
Nidon gave him a smile. “You’re not worried, are you?”
Rayne shook his head, but said, “They say he’s never lost a fight. That he’s killed a dozen knights.”
“That makes two of us then, but I’ve killed more knights. And more varcolac.” Nidon stood and moved his arms and legs about, checking the fit of his armor.
Rayne frowned. “But what about that time Sir Lindras had to save you from the varcolac captain? Don’t you remember?”
“Don’t kill the moment, son.”
Rayne clamped his mouth shut in a frown so pitiful it almost made Nidon laugh.
“This is serious, Sir Nidon. They say he wants to kill you. That this is no ordinary tournament.”
Nidon patted Rayne on the shoulder. “Hand me my purse, Rayne. Over there.”
Coarse laughter came from the tent next to theirs. Loud voices spoke in Rigarian, and then more laughter. Over a year fighting them and Nidon still didn’t know a word of their language. Well, one word. Agros. Charge.
Rayne handed him the purse. Nidon opened it and poured eight gold royals into his hand. He counted six heavy coins. “Take these and bet them all on me,” he said, placing them into Rayne’s hand. He motioned out the flapping tent door. “See the odds makers over there? That’s where you’ll go.”
Horns blew outside and a herald announced the arrival of the queen. “Not much time now. Here are two more coins. These are yours to keep.
But you must bet them both on this fight. Who will you put them on?”
“I’ll bet on you, Sir Nidon.”
“But do you think I will win?”
“I, ah, you will, Sir Nidon.”
Nidon nodded. “I will be leaving soon Rayne. I won’t be able to watch over you any more. Two royals is a lot of money. Bet it on me and it will be a lot more money.”
“Yes, Sir Nidon.”
“Swear it, Rayne. That you’ll bet all the money on me.”
Rayne swallowed and nodded. “I swear it, Sir Nidon.”
Nidon reached down and took his page by the chin, forcing his eyes to meet Nidon’s. “Rayne, I am not going to lose. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir Nidon.”
Nidon smiled. “Hand me my sword and shield.” He would carry the sword. No need for a scabbard. It would just get in the way.
Applause rose outside the tent. Nidon leaned over to see the reviewing stand. The applause was for the queen. Too little applause, he noted, for so large a crowd.
Rayne held Nidon’s shield before him and he slipped it onto his arm. Then he took the sword Rayne offered him and gave his page a salute. “Run off, now. Place those bets.”
“Yes, Sir Nidon. Good luck, Sir Nidon.”
“Go on now.”
Rayne fled out the back flap.
Nidon held his sword in his shield hand and took a last, long drink of water before limping to the entrance of his tent. Scattered applause greeted him as he exited the tent into the blazing sun. He took his sword and saluted the crowd.
More applause rose as eyes shifted to his left. His opponent had also appeared. Nidon didn’t spare him a glance, despite his desire to see what he was up against. In years past the crowds would have been in a frenzy at this point.
The tents exited directly onto a small, carpeted entry area roped off from the lists. A stout wooden fence surrounded the lists, with a small space between it and the rope holding back the spectators. Nidon saw a lot of West Teren blue in the crowd. But he did see red as well. Unadorned red pennants for the Champion of Salador. When the time came, he would need their support.