by Cas Peace
“Can you sense her now?” Taran asked.
Robin drew a shaky breath, sat on a log and closed his eyes. Taran waited. Cal climbed from his bedroll and came to sit beside him.
The Captain eventually opened his eyes, punching the log in frustration. “Nothing!”
“Let’s try a Powersink,” suggested Taran.
Robin grabbed the idea. “Yes, that might work. Cal, you’ll have to be passive in this, we just need your strength. Taran, will you let me have control?”
“Of course.”
They showed Cal what to do and the three patterns flowed effortlessly into one. Taran felt Robin take hold of the power and cast it beyond the Veils. He sent it arrowing across the alien terrain in the direction of Marik’s mansion. Taran felt as if he were flowing over the land on a wave of power, seeing but not quite seeing the familiar outlines of the mansion’s structure. Yet it was only an impression of the stones and mortar; only an imprint of its substance in the substrate.
They searched for signs of life and one psyche in particular. After a thorough but fruitless search, Robin pulled them back.
“Where are they?” Taran asked.
Robin shook his head. “Either there’s a powerful and impenetrable shield over the entire building, or there are only a few servants left. Even the shanty town’s deserted. I don’t understand it. I felt no evidence of disaster, only abandonment. Sullyan definitely isn’t there. What do I do now?”
“Why don’t we widen the search a little and look in the surrounding countryside?” said Taran. “If there was a fight or a raid, she might have fought her way free. Maybe she’s lying injured somewhere.”
They meshed again and returned to the mansion’s vicinity, gradually widening the area of search. Again, they drew a blank. They couldn’t find even the merest hint of her passing in the substrate.
Robin swore. “I really don’t understand this. There ought to be some trace of her somewhere. It’s as if she’s completely vanished. Just ceased to exist.”
They puzzled over their lack of success, Taran and Cal throwing out ideas that really only served to pass the time. Suddenly, they heard a commotion on the outer edges of the camp. Robin left the tent and Taran followed, amazed to find that dawn was breaking. He hadn’t realized they had spent so much time searching through the Veils.
The unrest turned out to be a bunch of outriders returning from night-scout duty. One of them, seeing Robin, cantered over his lathered horse. He called the Captain’s name.
“What is it, Dexter?” said Robin, striding forward.
The Sergeant pulled up in front of his senior officer. “It’s the invasion, Captain,” he said, short of breath. “It’s over.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The invasion’s over?” repeated Robin. “What do you mean? Details, man.”
Dexter took a deep breath, sweat sheening his ruddy face. “They’ve withdrawn, Captain. Just before dawn.”
“What, all of them? Completely?” Robin clearly couldn’t believe it.
“The entire invasion force, yes sir. A few raiding parties remain but they’re well scattered. The scouts all report the main body of warriors seemed to get some sort of signal at the same time and began an immediate retreat through the Veils. They’ve killed the severely wounded but taken the rest. You know what that means, sir.”
“Yes I do,” said Robin. He sounded both amazed and puzzled.
Taran didn’t understand, so Robin explained. An Andaryan badly wounded on this side of the Veils, he said, would be unable to travel back through them without risking serious damage to both body and mind. If the wound was infected, they were unable to return at all, they would die in screaming agony if forced into the Veils. And they would only be able to survive a few months if trapped permanently in an alien realm. The same principle applied to Albians, which was why Sullyan had been so careful with Bull’s shoulder wound. Whoever had sent this invasion force was clearly willing to risk the probable damage to recover the troops, which meant numbers must be vitally important.
Taran realized how little he really knew about the life he’d chosen to lead. Clearly, he’d been lucky to escape serious injury in the past. He’d known that the inhabitants of each realm couldn’t exist long in another but hadn’t appreciated the significance of an outland infection. The thought of what could have happened because of his ignorance turned his blood to ice.
Robin and the Sergeant were discussing the arrangements for returning to the Manor. The Captain ordered Dexter to take about a hundred of the fittest men and remain in the area to keep an eye on the situation in case the Andaryan withdrawal was a feint. The taking of their wounded, however, had convinced him it wasn’t. Whoever was behind the uprising needed every available warrior, damaged or not.
When he was done, he turned back to Taran and Cal. “From what Dex has told me, the mysterious signal that caused the Andaryan withdrawal occurred at almost the exact moment I heard the Major call me.” His voice was tight with strain. “That’s too much of a coincidence. Come on, we’re breaking camp. The sooner I get the men back, the sooner I can search for her.”
“Will the General allow that?” asked Taran.
Robin’s expression was grim. “He won’t be able to stop me.”
+ + + + +
The company, tired and grimy, followed Robin back to the Manor. They met and merged with some of Vassa’s men, each captain leaving a small detail of scouts behind to mop up any straggling raiders. The Colonel himself had ridden on ahead.
Robin had them ride on full alert, weapons ready, in case the withdrawal should turn into an ambush. All the reports, however, both from scouts left behind and those in front confirmed the original report. The invasion forces had departed. The only outlanders left were those who had taken advantage of the situation to do a little looting.
Their camp that night was only a few hours’ ride from the Manor. The men were tired and in all conscience, Robin couldn’t hurry them. He chafed at the delay but wouldn’t leave them to ride on alone. Sullyan had given him this command and if he couldn’t immediately go searching for her, he wasn’t about to let her down by abandoning his responsibility.
Taran cooked a meager supper, although none of them had any appetite, while Robin spoke to Bull back at the Manor. The big man, he reported, was as worried as they were, and if not for the stricture of not braving the Veils alone, he’d have gone to search for Sullyan. Apparently his shoulder wound was fully healed, so it wouldn’t stop him from traveling. He had nothing encouraging to tell them, but he had one unusual piece of news.
They linked together so they could all hear him. He told them that for the last three or four nights, Rienne, who had worked tirelessly in the infirmary, earning admiration and gratitude from swordsmen and healers alike, had suffered a recurring nightmare. She could make no real sense of it except to say that it definitely concerned the Major.
She’d had visions of strange faces looming above her; feelings of great pain and pressure, of terror, torment and chains. Startling awake with sweat pouring off her and her heart aching in her chest, she would be left with nothing but a sense of holding on, of not giving up, which for some reason was vitally important.
After suffering this nightmare two nights running, Rienne went to Bull. He’d tried his best to catch a glimpse of her visions, but he simply didn’t have the skill. He’d reassured her as best he could, but told them she’d be infinitely relieved when they were back.
Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? demanded Cal.
What would that have achieved except to worry you even more? said Bull. Besides, she asked me not to until you were nearly home. She didn’t want you worrying. She thought you might lose concentration and take an arrow in the back.
Cal grimaced but remained silent.
But why should Rienne be able to pick anything up from Sullyan? said Robin. She’s not an Artesan. And I’ve been open for days to anything the Major might send.
A
ll I can think, lad, replied Bull, is that Rienne’s an empath. I know a lot of healers are, it’s what makes them so good at what they do. And she and Sullyan did spend that evening getting drunk together, remember? From what I recall of some of the things they discussed, I reckon they got pretty close that night. Although empaths are not Artesans, they are far more sensitive than ordinary folk. Rienne might well have formed a strong bond to Sully that night, enough to enable her to ‘hear’ the major.
An empath? asked Cal. Wouldn’t one of us have picked that up before?
You’d have thought so. Bull’s voice carried a touch of sarcasm. I imagine you and Taran were too wrapped up in your own business to wonder about Rienne. Especially if she’s showed no overt signs until now.
Tell her we’ll be back tomorrow morning, said Robin. If she gets anything else, we’ll need to know. I’m planning to set out through the Veils just as soon as I’ve reported to Blaine. If you’re coming, Bull, you’d better be ready. Oh, and I’ll need a remount. Tell Solet to make sure it’s Torka.
He broke the link.
“We’re coming, too,” said Taran, his assertion drawing a startled glance from Robin. “Well, you didn’t think we’d stay behind, did you?”
Robin smiled and gripped his arm. “Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need all the power we can get.”
They collapsed into their bedrolls early that night, anxiety and weariness taking their toll. Taran half expected to be woken by a nightmare, but his exhausted sleep was undisturbed. He didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved.
+ + + + +
Robin roused everyone early and the company moved off in the pre-dawn light. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and it was raining. Eager to reach the Manor, they kept the fastest pace they could sustain.
The sentries saw them coming and opened the gates. They rode in to the cheers of their comrades who had made it back before them. Taran saw Cal looking for Rienne, but she wasn’t there. He guessed she was already in the infirmary.
They dismounted at the horse lines, giving charge of their mounts to the stable lads who came pouring out of their barracks to help. Hearing a youthful, high-pitched voice frantically calling for Robin, Taran looked around and caught sight of the kitchen lad, Tad. The young boy seemed desperate to reach Robin as he rushed headlong into his arms.
“Whoa, young man,” said Robin, steadying the boy. “Whatever is it?”
Tad caught his breath, his chest heaving with the effort of his run. “Healer Arlen sent me to tell you immediately, sir. She said you’d want to know. The Major’s horse is back, sir.”
Robin stared. “Are you saying the Major’s returned, lad?”
“No, sir, just the horse. And he’s in a bad way.”
Keeping a grip on Tad’s skinny arm, Robin spun round. “Solet!” He spied the tall man attending to a lame beast over by the isolation stables and strode over. Taran and Cal followed.
Solet looked up as Robin rounded on him. “I’m told Mandias is here. Where have you put him?”
Solet pointed to a line of loose boxes. “He’s down there at the end, Captain. Don’t disturb him. He’s had a rough time and I’ve given him something for the pain.”
Robin ran to the box indicated. Ignoring Solet’s instructions, he flung open the door. He stopped, brought up short by the sight of the beast. Taran and the others caught up with him and also stopped, gazing in sympathy at the injured horse.
Mandias was lying on a thick bed of fresh, yellow straw. His head was down, his chin resting on the straw, his eyes half-closed. There was mucus running from his nose and eyes and his breathing was husky. He had numerous whip cuts and what looked like bites on his body. He was very thin. Taran couldn’t believe it was the same beast that had gone snorting and bolting out of the yard nearly two weeks before.
He saw tears in Robin’s eyes. Approaching the horse quietly, the young man kneeled down beside it. He put out his hand and softly stroked the once-velvety neck. Mandias managed to raise his head a little and whickered wetly down his nose.
“What on earth happened to you, old boy?” murmured Robin. “You’ve really been in the wars, haven’t you?”
He stayed a moment longer, pulling gently on the stallion’s ear, before abruptly standing up. Solet appeared in the doorway. “How long has he been back?” demanded Robin.
“One of the night lads found him staggering around outside about four hours ago,” the stablemaster replied. “He was trembling all over and barely on his legs. Been traveling a while, I reckon, by the state of him.”
“Will he recover?” asked Robin.
“Possibly. Maybe not completely, though. That’s a nasty wound on his right fore and he is getting on a bit now.”
Robin’s face was pale. “Do your best,” he said. “You know how the Major loves that horse.”
As they left the horse lines and walked up toward the main building, Cal asked, “How did the horse get back without the Major?”
“Mandias is very special, one of only a few horses that can cross the Veils by himself,” said Robin. “It’s why he’s so prized as a stud. His full brother, Drum, can do it too, and I’m hoping my own colt, which was sired by Mandias, will show the same talent when he’s grown. But this has got me even more worried now. Sullyan wouldn’t have parted with him willingly, nor sent him back alone unless she had no other choice.”
Taran could feel the implications quivering in the air as he and Cal followed Robin in silence.
Once they entered the main building, they were met by Bull. He slapped Robin on the back and shook both Cal’s and Taran’s hands.
“You’ve done very well by all accounts,” he said as he accompanied them toward the General’s office. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s promotion in this for you, lad.”
Robin didn’t even smile. “There’s only one thing on my mind right now, Bull, and it isn’t promotion. If I can’t get Sullyan back, my career will mean less than nothing.”
Bull shook his head and left them at the General’s door. Robin knocked and, beckoning to Taran and Cal, entered when he heard the gruff reply.
The meeting, thought Taran, was stormy. Robin went into it with a huge burr under his saddle over Blaine’s refusal to free him to search for Sullyan. It seemed he wasn’t about to back down from his determination to leave as soon as the session was over.
It was clear to Taran that the General had guessed Robin’s intention. He was obviously expecting the Captain to be prickly. He didn’t, however, seem prepared for the depth of resentment the Captain expressed. Robin’s abrupt attitude, terse replies, and plain impatience with the procedure soon irritated the short-tempered General. Once the debriefing was over, he deliberately kept the young man at attention until Robin was forced to look him in the eyes.
His voice deceptively mild, Blaine said, “Do you have something else to say, Captain?”
Taran was pleased to note that Robin took a moment to think before replying. The responsibility of solo command must have matured him a little; the Robin they had known on arrival wouldn’t have hesitated to leap in with both feet.
“I believe there’s a more important task awaiting me than giving you details of the past campaign, sir,” he said, as respectfully as his resentment would allow. “Others could do that as well as I, and I can’t think why you’d want to delay me. The Major’s been officially missing for more than a week, sir, and we have reason to believe she’s in danger.”
Blaine’s face flushed and he rose from his chair. “Oh you do, do you? What reasons would they be, Captain? Dreams, vague feelings of disquiet? A horse returning alone? Hardly good military reasons for you to go haring off on some foolhardy rescue mission. Especially as we’re still on full alert following a major invasion.”
Color rose in Robin’s face, too, but he kept his temper in check.
“Aren’t you concerned by her lack of contact, sir? She’s never failed
to report before. And yes, I do think that the abandonment of the invasion and the vague nature of the few contacts we’ve had from her are connected. When you consider the state of her horse and the fact that three of us in metaconcert could find no traces of her, I think it’s grave cause for concern. And that’s putting aside the debt you owe her for saving your life, sir.”
Taran thought this was going a little too far and it seemed the General thought so, too. His face flushed even deeper and he loomed over Robin.
“Beware, Captain. You’re walking a knife-edge with me after that duel. Not to mention all your other indiscretions over the past two years. I’ve already told you you’ve had your last chance. Left up to me, you’d have been transferred long ago. Any more of your insulting and insubordinate behavior and you’ll be up before a martial court.”
Taran could see that Robin had pushed the General about as far as he would go, yet the young man appeared unmoved. Taran got the impression he had prepared a strategy for this situation. He was proved right as Robin backed up a pace, executing a smart salute.
“Permission to lead a search party to the Fifth Realm, sir.”
Blaine’s eyes bulged. “Permission denied, Captain. Dismissed!”
Promptly, Robin produced a parchment from inside his jacket and held it out to Blaine. “Very well, General,” he said, “I have a letter resigning my position.”
Taran gasped; he hadn’t expected this. He watched Blaine closely to see what he would do.
The General stared at the letter but didn’t take it. Then he looked into Robin’s eyes and the color faded from his face. He folded his arms.
“Oh, for pity’s sake. Alright, Captain, you win. I don’t stand a chance, do I, when she commands such loyalty?”
Robin smiled as he tucked the letter back inside his jacket. “My primary loyalty might lie with the Major, sir, but I know for a fact that hers lies very firmly with you and the King.”
Blaine frowned. “I do know that, Captain. But it’s not quite the same thing, is it?”
He was silent for a while, regarding each of them in turn. His gaze settled on Taran. “I suppose your presence here means the two of you intend to go with this love-struck idiot?”