by D A Godwin
“It isn’t hard. Remember that I grew up—” Tormjere froze and looked up the mountain.
Kataria followed his gaze towards the thick, brownish clouds that clung to the peaks.
“What is it?”
“Kenzing is burning.”
“It is no more than the sunset, as it was last night.”
Tormjere shook his head and pointed to a bright spot in the clouds that marked the sun’s position. Though low in the sky, they still had several hours of light remaining.
“Kenzing is your home, is it not?”
“Yes.”
There was little else to add. His village, which didn’t even have a wall around it, was suffering the same fate as Jonrin. His parents were there, with Blackwolf and the other dogs. He needed to be there, too.
“Surely it would not be that bad,” she offered. “You said there was a considerable force there now.”
“The fires must be large to produce such smoke. I don’t see how to come to another conclusion. We will find you no shelter there either.”
“Can we wait here until the morning and then proceed? If you are correct, the attack may be over by then.”
Tormjere chewed his lip. It would be safest to take her east now, and head straight for Fallhaven, even if they needed to use the road and expose themselves to anyone looking for her. They were so close to Kenzing, though. Just across one small ravine to the next ridge and he would be able to see into the cove. But he couldn’t leave her behind, and she would never make it there before dark.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea to just sit here for the rest of the evening waiting,” he said, “and we’re low on food.”
“What if we go as far as there today?” she asked, pointing to where the ridgelines met a short distance to the east. “That would move us closer to your village, yes? In the morning, we can decide the best way forward.”
Tormjere nodded slowly. It was likely as far as she could go in the remainder of the day regardless of what direction they chose. It would put them closer to the east road that ran from Kenzing to Fallhaven and it kept them moving towards the valley.
She put her boots back on and looked at him expectantly.
Without a word, he led her forward. He kept a watch on the clouds as they walked, hoping to see the brownish haze dissipate, but it never did. By the time they stopped for the night they could smell the smoke as it drifted through the trees.
It was a cold camp again, but this time Kataria didn’t complain. Tormjere set snares in hopes of catching a rabbit, but he had no words of encouragement for her tonight.
Kataria watched him with concern. He was more worried than he was letting on, and she almost said something to try and cheer him up. It seemed inappropriate, however, so she took Eluria’s symbol into her hand. She ran her finger over the smooth pearl that represented the full moon and whispered a prayer for him, and for his home.
* * *
Kataria was shaken awake much too early. Her mumbled protest died as Tormjere placed a warning finger to his lips.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Goblins are close. We must move.”
She sat up, fully awake. The sun was just breaking the horizon in the east, giving a deep red cast to the clouds that hung heavy in the sky. He rolled the cloak around his bag and hurriedly disguised the site, then they were moving.
She followed without question, terrified of every little sound she made. Every twig snap and leaf rustle now seemed as loud as banging pots together. He was so quiet ahead of her. She watched how he walked to avoid making noise and began to copy his movements, stepping where he stepped, moving as he moved. Or at least trying to. It was difficult in her riding dress, since she had to constantly lift it and hold it close, but having something to focus on calmed her nerves.
They came to a bald, allowing them a clear view south. Beyond the foothills and forests they could just make out the roofs of Jonrin in the distance. Movement in the trees below drew her eye, and her heart caught in her throat. Dozens of goblins were moving up the hill.
Tormjere swore. “They must be coming further in from Jonrin instead of returning to their mountains.”
Kataria looked at him, frightened. “Should we return to Kenzing?”
“That’s where the others approached from. I think they’re in a half-circle around us now. We’ll continue to press east and try to break out of their grasp before we’re completely surrounded.”
“Why are they coming this way?”
“I don’t know. There’s nothing between Kenzing and Fallhaven, and from there back to Jonrin lies only Shallowell. Let’s keep going.”
He was trying to hide it, but she could tell he was worried.
It wasn’t long before she began to hear them—the occasional snap of a branch or slip of a foot that was not made by a creature of the forest.
As the noises grew closer, they found their path turning more and more downhill to stay away from them.
“They’re descending,” Tormjere said, “which is pushing us further down the mountain and towards the others below. We have to go up and break through their lines if we’re to escape.”
Kataria could only nod as she fought to catch her breath. Tormjere allowed her only a moment’s rest before they were off again, this time heading further up the mountain. She didn’t need to be a Ranger to know they were headed straight towards the goblins.
The trees grew further apart, and the ground was covered here and there with patches of dense undergrowth. It was easier to walk through, but offered little in the way of concealment.
Tormjere motioned her to a stop before a jumble of rocks covered with years of moss, tree roots, and vegetation.
“We’ll hide there and hope they pass by,” he whispered.
Kataria squeezed as far beneath the shallow overhang as she could. He hurriedly swept away their footprints before joining her.
They waited. An unnatural silence settled over the forest, as if the animals knew danger approached. She was cramped and uncomfortable but didn’t dare move, not even to place her hand on Eluria’s symbol.
A soft rustle of leaves broke the silence. Whatever it was, was close. Kataria held her breath, willing her heart to stop pounding so loud in her ears. Then she saw it. The first goblin came into view, no more than ten paces to her right, moving deliberately down the side of the mountain. It was scrawny and smaller than she was, with greenish skin, ragged clothes, and an unpleasant looking axe in one hand.
A voice called out softly in the crude goblin tongue, so close she almost jumped. The goblin looked over its shoulder, away from where they crouched, and said something in return. It was like listening to animals growl at each other.
More goblins crept down the hill, passing silently on either side of their hiding spot, until at least half a dozen were below them.
She could do nothing but pray, hoping that they would somehow avoid detection.
The largest goblin, at the rear of the line, stopped abruptly. Beside her, Tormjere tensed. It sniffed at the air, scanning the forest as its hairless green head began turning slowly back up the hill.
Tormjere launched himself down the mountain, covering the distance between them in three steps. The goblin’s head snapped around just in time to see the sword that ended his life.
The silence was shattered by screams and snarls as the goblins descended on Tormjere. Her hand went to her symbol. If he was hurt, would she be able to heal him again?
Another of the creatures dashed down the mountain, flying past where Kataria still hid, heading straight at Tormjere’s back. Kataria started to shout a warning, but Tormjere ducked and spun at the last minute, cutting the creature down.
Spurred to action by his narrow escape, she found herself rushing forward to help. The hammer bounced painfully against her hip, reminding her she had no weapon in her hand.
One of the goblins pointed at her and shouted something to its companions. Tormjere stepped in front of her as she came
to a stop a half step to his unshielded left side, hammer held uncertainly in her left hand.
Tormjere caught the nearest goblin with a long cut. It staggered towards her, clutching its wounded arm. She swung at the creature with a strength born of fear. Her weapon connected solidly, and the goblin dropped to the ground.
By the time she looked up, only one goblin remained.
Tormjere stepped away from her. She realized what he was doing and moved in the opposite direction. The goblin hesitated, then charged at her. It died as Tormjere’s blade came slashing in from the side.
He listened for a moment, then turned his dark eyes towards hers.
“They recognized you,” he said.
“As did the one in Jonrin when it saw me.”
“I think you’re right. Once could be coincidence, but not twice. They know who you are.”
“How? Why?”
Tormjere knelt beside the first goblin he had killed and pointed to a crude emblem on its shoulder. “Fourfang.”
“What?”
“Who. Fourfang is chief of one of the largest and most organized goblin tribes. He’s got four teeth sticking out instead of the usual two. Goblin names are fairly literal,” he said in response to her look. “Note the markings on their armor. They weren’t in Jonrin.”
She had never looked at a goblin long enough to notice its mouth, but the one at her feet did have two teeth protruding slightly from its lower jaw. It also smelled horrible.
“Why would they know who I am?”
“I’ve no idea, but that’s two goblins from different clans that have known you by sight.”
“What if these are the others Erbac spoke of? Could they have been sent to get me?” she asked, fighting against the panic that clawed at her empty stomach.
Tormjere looked skeptical. “It might explain why they continued east from Jonrin and even Kenzing instead of returning the way they came, but do you believe he would have been in league with goblins? It could be that we’re simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But, if they are searching for me…”
“It matters little right now. Regardless of why they are here, we have to get away from them.” He stood, concentrating on something she couldn’t see. “We’re almost behind them now. Let’s go.”
Kataria struggled against her fear as she followed him. She gripped the symbol at her neck tightly, praying for the strength to survive this ordeal.
Change in the Wind
They continued their flight up the mountain for as long as they could before Tormjere judged it safe to rest. They hadn’t seen a single goblin since the battle, but he remained wary. Kataria collapsed heavily on a rock the moment they stopped, thoroughly exhausted, and pulled her hair from off her neck in an attempt to cool off.
“Where are we to go now?” she asked.
Tormjere ran through their limited set of options. He needed to get her to someone who could see her safely to her destination, then he could swing back through Kenzing and then attempt to find Drex. There had to be some place that was safe enough to take her, but his head hurt too much to produce an answer.
“What did Erbac do?” he asked, just to focus on something. “I assume he was close to your father.”
“He was First Advisor for many years. For the last six he has largely been responsible for the education of the royal children. Between all the cousins and whatnot, there are almost twenty of us, so we have all known him most of our lives. He is—was—one of my father’s most trusted advisors.”
“How much of your plans did he know?”
“He arranged it all. I think my father went along with it so I would be out of the way. We knew this war was coming.”
That would make it easy to arrange an ambush, but it still provided no explanation as to why Erbac would have her guards killed and then try to kidnap her.
“So why would he turn against you?”
“I can think of little reason. There are always power struggles and political maneuverings at court, but he remained above it all. His wife died of the fever when I was little, and their only son was lost at sea just last year. He changed after that, but we were his family. He had few material wants, so I cannot imagine anyone buying his loyalty.”
“What of the others Erbac spoke of?”
Kataria looked around nervously as if someone might jump from the trees at any moment. “I could only guess. He knew people in every city we ever visited.”
Tormjere ran a hand over his face. Rather than helping, this served only to expand their list of potential enemies to include almost everyone who knew her. “If your closest advisor can’t be trusted, then who?”
She crossed her arms. “Perhaps I could pose a question now? Such as where you intend on taking us other than up another mountain?”
He realized that his barrage of queries had bordered on an interrogation and softened his tone. “Sorry. I’m trying to figure out who can be trusted in order to know where to go.”
Her arms remained crossed, but she shook her head and answered. “I could have named a dozen people before today, but all have ties to Steward Erbac, and I am afraid. I do not wish to return to Merallin.”
“With all the goblins, we can’t go south regardless. The closest person I would trust is in Kirchmont. There must be someone you know closer,” Tormjere said hopefully.
She thought for a long moment before responding. “My uncle Brouchard.”
Tormjere raised an eyebrow—that name sounded familiar.
“Duke of Kendenhall and Marshal of the armies. My mother’s brother. He would know what to do.”
Kendenhall wasn’t very close, but at least they had something to go on.
“Where is he now?”
“He was sent east to command the army in the field.”
“The east is a large area. Do you know anything more specific?”
Kataria looked at him crossly. “I was not privy to any of my father’s meetings. You are part of our army; can you not find him?”
“I can inquire at any garrison,” he replied, ignoring her tone, “but they’ll certainly ask questions of me for doing so. Still, taking you towards the fighting instead of back to the capital might throw off pursuit, if there is any. It’s not the most sensible decision.”
“Nothing seems sensible at this point.”
“It’s likely to be uncomfortable, and dangerous.”
“I am beginning to care less about comfort than safety.” She looked him over again and realized that, despite the stubble on his chin, he was little older than she was. “Can you see it done?”
Tormjere took a deep breath before answering. “If he’s the only one you trust, I will see you to him, Your Highness.”
He knelt and began to sweep leaves together. “We’ll figure out how in the morning. For now, we need to rest.”
* * *
The smoke from the fire in Kenzing still hung above them as the sun rose. Tormjere took one look at it and turned away. Part of him still wanted to rush to his home and defend it as he should, but that was foolish. Regardless of what he wanted, they couldn’t risk running into a larger group of goblins than he could handle. There were more soldiers in Kenzing than Jonrin. The people were a hearty bunch who had endured worse, and by the time he could get there, the fighting would be over. He had to focus on her safety, for now. Abandoning her after promising to help would make him no better than those who sought her.
“I should tell you that I’ve never been in the eastern parts of the Kingdom,” he said.
“We travelled through many of the cities last year, but I could not tell you the route we took from one to the next.”
“Let’s start with what we know then.”
Tormjere crouched in front of her and sketched a quick map in the dirt. Until joining the Rangers, he had possessed little concept of the world outside his own valley. Now he had the major features of the land firmly committed to memory, even if he had never seen any of th
em with his own eyes.
“There’s only one town along the road to Fallhaven, named Shallowell. It’s a bit east of us now, I think.” He continued making marks in the dirt as he spoke. “We’re west of the goblins, or at least Fourfang’s crew we ran into yesterday. Jonrin and Kenzing may still be dangerous. It seems our best option after Shallowell would be to head for Sandenmill over here, in the middle of the Kingdom. There’s no road so we should be able to remain hidden, though it’s many days walk, and the forests are wild and hold their own dangers.”
She frowned. “Would it not be easier to go to Fallhaven and then take transport down the river?”
“If you believe Erbac that others would find you, and he knew you were going to Fallhaven…”
“…then anyone he spoke to would look for me in Fallhaven as well,” she finished, nodding her understanding. “There was another town, downriver from Fallhaven. We did not stop there last year, but I heard people speak of it.”
“The river would be both faster and safer than the forests,” he agreed, “if we can find a boat.”
“Rivers always have boats.”
Her mood seemed to brighten at the thought of not walking, and despite her disheveled appearance he was reminded of how attractive she was. She would surely stand out in any town they travelled through, which could be dangerous if anyone was looking for her.
“A princess walking around will be hard to miss. If you don’t want to be found, we’ll need to do something about how you look.”
“But I am not dressed like a princess,” she protested. “Sir Worston chose this dress specifically so that I would not attract attention.”
“He was probably never poor, because it’s too colorful. You may not be covered in jewels, but such finery is still out of place.”
Kataria crossed her arms and looked at him indignantly. “I have never been covered in jewels! Do you take me for some gaudy Ceringion?”
“Not at the moment, but others might.” He erased the map. “We should go.”
They descended cautiously, wary of any goblins that might still be in the area. Little more than halfway down the mountain, they caught sight of smoke rising in the air and came to a stop.