By Ways Unseen

by Daniel Dydek

  and in our houses, night falls.”

  The entire village rose to its feet, now, and joined Killik in singing the last stanza:

  “All is silent in our land. No creature is a-creeping.

  Children grasp their mother’s hand, and soon they are a-sleeping.

  So they dream of cornhusk dolls,

  and in their rooms, night falls.”

  “And a good night,” Runacron whispered, dropping his head to his chest.

  As the villagers began to disperse from the fire, Sarah turned to Haydren. “I need to ask Killik about something,” she said. “I’ll meet you all back at the inn.”

  Haydren shrugged. “Sure,” he replied. He and the other three got up and walked back toward the inn as Sarah made her way over to the head of the village.

  “What did she want?” Geoffrey asked; Haydren shook his head and shrugged.

  By the time they had gotten back to the Huckleberry and prepared for bed, Sarah had returned. She said nothing about her discussion with Killik, but went directly to her room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  QUESTIONS

  “Do you ever think sometimes they do very well without us?”

  “No. Perhaps sometimes.”

  “I’ve run into some trouble in Andelen.”

  “The world reeks of trouble. You will be fine.”

  9 Halmfurtung 1320 – Autumn

  The next morning, they prepared quickly, knowing the Deewanians wanted to see them off. They were not quite ready for what was in store.

  The entire village had gathered at the start of the path south out of Deewan; banners in the reds and yellows and oranges of the different clans were snapping in the breeze, and somewhere in the crowd a mother was trying to hush her baby. Killik stood surrounded by the elders at the head of the path.

  “We wish to bid the gods go with you,” Killik said. Haydren’s horse stamped nervously, and he put a hand on its muzzle to quiet it. “You undertake this mission for yourself, and for the entirety of Burieng, but also for us. As our protectors, you are our brothers; these are your clansmen, your mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and children. When you go, you go to defend them and the thousands of others throughout Burieng. Defend them as if your family were behind you -because they are.”

  Killik stepped back, sweeping his hand to the valley below the village with a slight bow. As the companions made their way through the throng lining the path, the villagers carpeted their steps with flowers and with heads of wheat. As they neared the end, one of the children handed Haydren a flower of red petals; Haydren accepted it and held it near his heart as the child gazed at him with eyes wide.

  As they made their way down the hillside along the path, Julian said: “The heads of grain were to signify that you were in authority over their livelihood; that by your step or misstep, you might crush their food, or allow them to gather it up again.”

  “Good thing I stepped over them, then,” Haydren muttered.

  Julian shook his head. “It’s more symbolic than anything. If you had stepped on them, it would not have caused offense.”

  During the night, the villagers had taken control of their saddlebags and restocked them; more than once Haydren wished they had not bothered, as the bulging sacks threatened to push the horses over the side of the path and into the raging waters.

  “We keep to this road for a few days,” Julian informed them. “In less than a week, we’ll take a narrower path through the mountains to try to pass Dubril to the north. It will be a treacherous path, and difficult to cross the Koniero Highway; but it will be much swifter than swinging south of Earl Jgei’s fortress. There is not a pass through the mountains for several days south of his castle.”

  “They say the Earl is immortal, you know,” Sarah spoke up.

  “As are the Knights of Galessern,” Julian replied. “But that is difficult to prove, since they wear identical armor, and do not carry coats of arms.”

  “The Earl does not distinguish himself in battle?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The Earl is rarely seen in battle,” Haydren replied for Julian. “Most often, it is a small raid conducted by ten to fifteen knights; and then usually only near the borders.”

  “Even so,” Julian said, “part of the deal of giving Lasserain a stronghold from which to strike was that the King’s best men would not die.”

  “And how exactly did that information get out?” Haydren asked with a grin. “From what I heard, it was not even confirmed except by sheer coincidence that Lasserain’s stronghold was in Galessern.”

  “So our direction right now is based on hearsay?” Geoffrey asked.

  “It’s a little stronger that hearsay, now,” Haydren replied. “But yes, there is a perfectly good chance of us arriving at Galessern and not finding Lasserain. Two things make me think he is there, however: first, he’s found us twice before, so I believe he’s looking for us; so if we go there, he will follow if he isn’t already there. Second, everything started after he’d arrived in the Mountains twenty years ago, and that’s where everything since has come from, if not from the Woods; we know Haschina was one stronghold, Galessern makes an obvious second. He’s just finished an attack against Jyunta, and probably needs to rest: we know he can’t be in Haschina, so Galessern it is.”

  “Didn’t your Earl ally with Lasserain as well?” Julian asked Haydren.

  “Guntsen, yes he did,” Haydren replied, shaking his head with a grin.

  “You find that humorous?” Sarah asked.

  “I grew up with Guntsen,” Haydren replied. “I suppose I’m not surprised he did what he did; I would just be amused to hear his reason for why he did it.”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “He was never particularly strong, nor did he think much of anything else outside of himself,” Haydren replied. “So I don’t know if he did it out of fear, or some sort of benefit for himself.” Haydren’s expression sobered and he continued quietly: “I know his father was very concerned for the threat to all of his borders, while he was alive. He did everything he could to prevent even one of the villages under his rule to fall to Lasserain. Now, within months of Guntsen ascending to the throne, there goes the entire province. I’m almost afraid to return home, to see what has become of it. I hope Mickel and Maerie are all right.”

  Over the next few days, they conversed little: sound carried well in the valleys of rock, and even the clopping of their horses’ hooves seemed to echo forever. The path was at times more narrow than ever, and at other times wide enough to draw a cart upon; but always the Bawelen River rushed beside them, swollen now even more after Wilcer Creek joined it below Deewan’s peak.

  On the third morning since leaving Deewan, shortly after setting out from their camp, the rush of the river beside them changed in pitch as a duller, more pounding roar grew in volume. Julian paused and glanced up a valley that ran down to the path on which they rode. He glanced back at the rest of the company.

  “We’re at the falls,” he said. “You see that rock midstream ahead? That’s where Kaoleyn Creek runs off of the Bawelen – which unfortunately we cannot stop to see: it is the only place I know where a river splits. A great rock breached it, and before it could converge again it plunges over the falls, and rocks guide them apart. But this valley to our left will take us to barely a goat-path, and it will hopefully lead us safely past Dubril. Once we’re past Dubril, the most dangerous part of this journey will be over: not until we reach Galessern will we be in as much danger.”

  They turned, and guided their horses up the narrow, rock-strewn valley. At the top, it immediately pitched downward into a forest of evergreens. Here, the horses’ hooves were muffled by a carpet of pine needles; birds, perched in the branches, sang sweetly as they passed. The valley was long, and it was not until nearly evening that the floor sloped up once more and took them out of the forest and back onto rocky paths. This was the goat-path to which Julian had referred, and before long they
had begun lightening their packs to make them small enough to fit in the narrow canyon.

  They camped that night in the rocky pass, at a small plateau that was wide enough to accommodate them. The sky was clear, and the stars brilliant in the cool air.

  The following days were much like the first; they rode through broad, long, yet shallow valleys of young forest, capped at each end by tall and narrow passes. On the fourth day, as they climbed another narrow pass, the mountains suddenly opened before them, and a body of water shimmered far below. Their path took a sharp right, and switch-backed down the face of the mountain to a valley of older-growth forest: oaks, and maples, interspersed with older and taller firs than those growing in the valleys they had traveled through thus far.

  “That is Dubril Bay,” Julian said, pointing to the water far below. “Cutting through the forest below, and tracking the coastline all the way to Naaseb, though you can’t see it yet, is Koniero Highway.”

  Without another word, he began leading them on the path down the face of the mountain. Here, Haydren felt, they were exposed for the entire world to see. Though spies could have hidden in the mountains anywhere along their route thus far, here spies would not even have to hide; anyone in the forest below could look up and see four travelers riding their horses down the mountain. It was no small wonder in Haydren’s mind that Julian called this the most dangerous part of their journey.

  As the sun passed its zenith, the company finally reached the forested valley; unlike the softly carpeted valleys above, this forest floor was strewn with dried leaves and dead branches, which crackled and snapped loudly under the horses’ hooves.

  “If we make it through here without bringing down the entire Galessern army, it will be a miracle,” Geoffrey muttered.

  “And this is not the place for miracles!” a voice shouted. In an instant, the forest was filled with the thundering of horses’ hooves as armored knights appeared all around them. Haydren reached for his sword, but was stopped short as ten bowstrings creaked, with arrows pointed at his heart.

  “We’ll have none of that, now,” the voice said. “In fact, take all your weapons off slowly and throw them onto the ground.”

  Haydren glanced at his companions; Sarah’s lips began to move, but suddenly her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. She glanced around in shock, seemingly unable to get rid of her look of surprise.

  “If you’re wondering why your sorceress suddenly looks amazed,” their leader said. “It’s because she has a mouth full of air. It’s really the best way to make sure she casts no spells. Now: your weapons?”

  With shoulders drooping, the companions slowly unbuckled their sword belts and let them fall to the ground. Geoffrey took the bow and quiver from his back and dropped it as well. Sarah continued to look around in wonderment as she pulled the mace from her belt and dropped it to the ground.

  “She’ll be fine for now,” their leader said. “Now, dismount slowly. Gatson! Michalak! Bind them, please; and someone tell Rivas to bring up the carts!”

  “Yes, Sir Cooley!” rang a chorus of voices. One of the knights came over and pulled Sarah roughly from her horse; though her chest heaved as if she grunted, no sound came from her mouth. The knight quickly tied her hands behind her back.

  The others were similarly bound as a cart rattled through the woods toward them. At sword-point, they were herded into the back and thrown roughly to the floor. Their weapons were bundled together and thrown into the seat beside the driver.

  “There are no stops on this carriage ride!” the driver cackled. “Straight on to the finest accommodations of Dubril’s dungeons; heh ha!”

  “Rivas!” barked Sir Cooley. “Just flay those horses before I flay you!”

  “Yes sir!” Rivas said quickly, snapping the reins upon the horses’ backs. The wagon started forward with a jolt, and bumped over every rock and root the entire way to Dubril Castle.

  The southern Earl’s castle was perhaps the most impressive fortification Haydren could recall; nestled between two massive peaks, which would be far too steep to climb with ballistae, Dubril appeared every bit as massive as Frecksshire, even with mountains to dwarf it. As they neared, Haydren saw that the walls were not even built of stone, but rather cut from it. Massive iron doors were tucked into the solid granite front, and boomed and roared open as they approached.

  Once inside, and after the doors crashed shut, fifteen men with halberds surrounded the cart, weapons leveled at the company. Under this escort, they were taken through a small door cut into the wall and down five flights of stairs. At the bottom, a few dim torches sent black smoke swirling to the ceiling where it remained, perhaps since the dawn of time; Haydren could only guess. Hallways ran in four directions, and they were taken down the left passage. Cell doors lined the walls; there were prisoners in some, who did not even look up as the company passed. Most striking to Haydren, they were all powerfully built men, though now a little lean from malnutrition. To the last man, they were scarred or maimed in some way; some were missing entire limbs. Shuddering, Haydren kept his eyes on the floor.

  “Products of the Duke,” Sir Cooley chuckled, noticing Haydren’s averted eyes. “Knights of the Earl’s who performed less than satisfactorily during a raid.”

  At the end of the hall, a door to a large cell hung open, the key-bearer standing nervously by. To Haydren’s relief, they were all herded into the same cell, and the door slammed quickly behind them. The key was thrust in the lock and turned several times before being returned to the bearer’s pocket.

  “Stay near them, Wilkins,” Sir Cooley ordered. “The Earl will want to see them; or, at least,” he added with a grin, “one or two of them at a time.”

  “Y-yes sir, I’ll keep a good watch, sir,” the guard mumbled, making it sound like “keemp a good wat”; Haydren could almost see the wagging tail of a dog patted on the head by its master.

  Sarah glanced around the cell: the hard stone floor had a thin layer of straw which might have been five years old, and reeked of mold. Water coursed down one corner of the cell and puddled on the floor.

  “So, what now?” Julian asked. This was not his mission, and no amount Earl Durdamon could pay him would make him withstand what some other prisoners in the dungeon had endured. Though he had posed the question, from the moment the knights had ridden into view he knew his best shot now was to tell everything he knew, and maybe one or two things he didn’t know but had guessed.

  “I don’t know,” Haydren replied, sitting down on the floor far away from the pool of rank water. “There might be a way to get out of here.”

  “We need to get Sarah back to normal,” Geoffrey whispered, watching as she paced around the cell and squinted at the walls.

  “That’ll be easier than you think,” she muttered under her breath, keeping her mouth as gaping as possible. She glared at them in warning as they stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “I don’t know a magic user alive who isn’t able to avoid being gagged with air – especially an air-user! Jgei’s user must be the barest acolyte. I felt him beginning to cast and blocked it, but put on the act so they would leave me alone.”

  “So can you do anything to get us out of here?” Haydren whispered.

  She nodded sideways, glanced at Geoffrey, and shook her head. “Something is hindering me from accessing the elements,” she said. “I haven’t tried, but I can feel it.”

  “Hey, shut up, the Earl’s coming,” Wilkins rasped to them. He stood up straight, keeping a firm grip on his keys as footsteps echoed down the hall toward them.

  “Do you think he’s dumb, or dumbly loyal?” Haydren whispered to Geoffrey.

  “Dumbly loyal,” Geoffrey replied with a nod.

  Just then, Earl Jgei stepped into view at the door of their cell. He wore his full armor, as well as a great sweeping cape of blood red that flowed from his shoulders to the floor. Though his helmet covered his eyes, his mouth could be seen through the bars of his visor.

  “May I ask w
hy you are here?” he asked with deadly calm. Whether it was some trick of the helmet or not, it sounded as if his voice came from the walls around them rather than the man in front of them.

  The company held their silence; Julian remained quiet because he would not betray these people in front of them. He was not sure how they would take it, though he could guess: they were a long way from Galessern, but probably held onto the hope they could still kill Lasserain.

  “It makes no difference,” the Earl said. “I thought you may want the easier way out, though far less entertaining. Bring the old knight, and their guide.”

  Wilkins opened the door, and four men came and grasped Geoffrey and Julian firmly by their arms and took them from the cell. As the door clanged shut, Earl Jgei said: “Perhaps, if their tongues are not loosened, yours will be when they come back.”

  Haydren closed his eyes and sighed as the Earl left. He looked at Sarah, who gazed back with sickness in her eyes.

  “Should we tell them anyway?” Haydren asked quietly. “Does it really matter, now?”

  “Say nothing,” Sarah replied, her fists balled at her sides. “One way or another, we’ll get free of this place.”

  Just then, a scream echoed down the hallway. Haydren started, then turned to the sorceress, swallowing hard. “That was Geoffrey,” he said.

  For what seemed hours, the interminable silence was broken intermittently with cries of anguish; sometimes they were abrupt screams, ripped from between gritted teeth. Other times they were moaning howls that started low, rose, and slowly tapered off. There was one final scream that cut off abruptly, and then all was silent.

  Haydren paced back and forth; with each scream he pounded his thigh with a fist; and as each echo faded he reconsidered once more their vow of silence. Sarah sat motionless against the wall, a tear quivering perpetually on her eyelashes.

  *

  Guntsen grunted in effort, trying to blink the sweat from his eyes that blurred the post in front of him. It was no swiveling mannequin, but it resisted his sword strokes that struck like hail against the cracked oak. He moved his feet, dancing around the post as he would dance around Lasserain when the time came – how dare the mage, taking his province away from him like it was never his father’s, and his father’s before him.