Seth blinked. The image of Nevis dancing naked under the moonlight was distracting. He gave her a slow smile and found himself wondering what her body looked like under those robes.
If Nevis noticed the direction of his thoughts, she appeared not to mind. Instead she dug into the satchel she carried over her front and pulled out two apples.
“These are the last of the winter store,” she threw him one, “but still edible.”
Seth took a bite of the apple. Indeed, the skin was a little wizened but the flesh was sweet.
“There are many Sisters of Sial in Dunethport these days,” he turned the conversation away from witches dancing naked under the full moon. “Has the war pushed you all out of Sude?”
“War has been a trial for my order. The Farindell army set fire to the Forests of Sial and destroyed many of our homes. Afterwards, the head of my order sent a few of us forth to travel the land and gather information on the coming eclipse, and its significance.”
“Have you discovered anything so far?”
“Just you Seth Falkyn – and a very interesting discovery you are too.”
Seth fell silent. Her words reminded him that others – the cloaked one and the Esquill – also thought he was important; worth killing or capturing at least.
“Can I see your charm Seth?” Nevis intruded upon his thoughts. “I only got a glimpse of it in the Golden Galleon and I’d like to examine it further.”
Seth drew the amulet out of his shirt and lifted it over his head. “I don’t suppose it can do any harm.”
The witch studied the stone, running her fingertips over its smooth, matt surface. She turned it over and frowned.
“It has runes on the back.”
“I know,” Seth replied, taking another bite of apple. “I’ve never been able to read them. Can you?”
Nevis nodded before she read aloud: “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
Seth felt a chill slide down his spine. There was something eerie about the words. Nevis too appeared slightly discomforted, for she had fallen silent. The witch handed Seth back his amulet and threw her apple core away.
“Come,” she said briskly. “We still have a mountain to cross before nightfall.”
Seth put the amulet around his neck, and tucked it under his shirt. Then, he removed his horse’s nose bag, tightened its girth and remounted. Moments later, they continued their journey.
It was a short while later when, upon rounding a bend, Seth saw that the path ahead hugged the edge of a sheer cliff face and climbed steeply before disappearing through a fissure in the mountain wall. Seth rode through the crevice and found himself in a desolate valley. Behind him, Nevis emerged from the gap.
“The Pass of Riordin?” she asked.
Seth shrugged. “It could be...”
They rode into the valley down a narrow path, little more than five feet across at its widest point. Either side, the valley walls, consisting of crumbly, hard-packed earth and chunks of schist, rose steeply. Very little appeared to grow here, just straggling bushes of a vicious briar, gorse, and clumps of wild-thyme that had been afflicted by a black fungus. When they reached the bottom, Seth spotted giant tors lining the valley floor. The path skirted the edge of them. They towered overhead; great columns of rock. Seth craned his neck up to see the sky. It was still bright and he guessed they had a few more hours of daylight left.
The deeper they rode into the valley, the more uncomfortable Seth grew. He found himself disliking this place. The air was clammy and cold. What little direct sun filtered through had long since departed for the day.
The tors were an unnerving presence. Seth could have almost sworn they were watching him and every time they passed under one the air became heavier.
Time inched by and they reached what Seth guessed to be the half-way point. The biggest tor of them all, a gigantic monolith, reared above them and when they passed under it, Seth’s skin prickled. It might have been solid rock but the tor felt like a sentient creature to Seth – and an unwelcoming one at that.
Seth was so focused on the path ahead that he did not notice the sudden appearance of a mist, rising up in thin tendrils from the valley floor. It was only when it snaked up across his legs that he realised it surrounded him. It had suddenly become deathly cold in the valley.
Then Seth heard the voices.
They were beautiful; melodious and sweet. Some whispered and others sung in a tongue he did not understand. For a moment, Seth was enraptured. Then, despite the exquisiteness of the voices, his instincts screamed danger.
“Nevis!” Seth called back to his companion. “We need to get out of here!”
Too late, Seth and Nevis hurried their pace. The mist was thick now, obscuring their surroundings, and the singing became louder and louder till it echoed like a choir off the valley walls.
Seth’s horse abruptly stopped, nearly unseating him. Nevis pulled her horse up behind, just short of colliding with him.
“Move!” she called out. “We must keep moving!”
“He won’t budge,” Seth tried to urge his horse forward but it squealed and dug its hooves into the ground.
“Get off and lead him then!” Nevis shouted back. She swung down from her horse and tried to lead hers forward. However, both horses now refused to move.
Seth stopped struggling with his horse when he saw figures appearing – outlines of tall, slender forms with huge, bat-like wings, moving in and out of the mist. Seth stared at them, fascination warring with fear, before he turned to Nevis.
The Sister of Sial looked around and saw shadowy winged figures surrounding them on all sides. Seth saw the alarm, swiftly followed by resignation, which crossed her face.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, her gaze meeting Seth’s. “I was hoping we would avoid the sprites.”
Seth stared back at her, his surprise changing to fear.
Suddenly, he remembered why his father had always chosen the Farmers’ Highway when he travelled to Dunethport, despite that the Miners’ Highway was the shorter route. It was not just a matter of having comfortable inns to stay in enroute. This road was dangerous.
The Malwagen had found them.
Chapter Fourteen
Avalon Kingswathe
Would the Tallow Marshes ever end? Eni was beginning to think he would never set foot on firm ground again.
The morning brought with it a damp breeze and grey skies. As soon as it was light enough, Eni resumed his journey. He struck out north for a while, as a precaution against meeting Valense’s soldiers again. Then, he turned west once the sun had reached its zenith.
The day slipped away in a monotonous cycle of walking west across the ageless swamps. As he walked, Eni’s gaze scanned left and right, for any sign of his hunters. He slowly relaxed when he realised he had lost them. His senses had grown accustomed to the subtleties of the marshland, and instead of an echoing silence, he could now easily pick out the croaking frogs, rustling birds and chirping insects.
The marshes might have appeared a dead place but Eni’s journey had revealed the opposite. They were indeed alive with many species of birds and plenty of animal and insect life as well. This far out from Swamphaven, no further sign of human habitation appeared and the marshes spread out in all directions untouched, as they had for centuries, and most probably would for centuries to come.
Eni rested for the night under the prickly boughs of a kanewood thicket. He finished his last loaf of bread and swallowed the remaining drops from his water bladder. His thirst was already raging, and the pitiful amount of water he drained from the bladder was barely enough to soak his parched tongue. He was tempted to refill his bladder from one of the pools but after much deliberation, decided against it. Drinking marsh water would surely make him sick. Thirsty and shivering from the night’s chill, Eni curled up into a ball like a hedgehog, and finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning – the third since his flight from Swamphaven �
�� Eni stumbled upon a path through the marshes. At first, he had merely spied a raised finger of earth in the distance but, upon nearing it, Eni realised he was looking at a crudely built ridge with a narrow pathway on its crown. The earthwork stretched southwest in one direction and northeast in the other – for as far as the eye could see.
Grateful to finally have some firm ground to walk upon, Eni clambered up onto the path and set off south-west. The path had presumably been constructed as a shortcut through the marshes, for any travellers who did not have time to skirt the fringes on the Alpine Highway.
Despite his gnawing hunger and burning thirst, Eni felt his spirits lift for the first time since leaving Swamphaven. Perhaps the gods were finally with him. Maybe he would escape Valense and find a way out of this soul-sapping swamp. Eni’s jubilation was short-lived. He had travelled a few hours on the pathway, making good time now that he did not have to navigate his way through the wetlands, when a noise reached his ears.
Eni stopped on the path and turned his head back towards the way he had come, listening intently. The noise was still a way off, but it was unmistakable – the baying of hounds on the scent.
Eni cursed. He had not escaped Valense’s men as he had thought. They had returned, this time with tracking dogs. He saw them appear in the far distance; a small army of men and dogs intent on his blood. They moved towards him like an angry hive.
Eni wasted no more time on the path. What had seemed like his salvation suddenly appeared the easiest means by which Valense’s men would catch him. His scent would be easy to follow on the path. Only in the marshes did he have a chance of losing them.
The south-western edge of the Tallow Marshes sat in a shallow bowl on the edge of the foothills that would eventually rise into the Starwalden Alps. Here, the marshes turned into a glittering expanse of water, studded with patches of reeds and tussock.
Cold water soaked into Eni’s boots as he began wading – and soon he was up to his knees. He pushed himself on at a stumbling run, not stopping to rest, or to glance back at his pursuers. The wetlands were hard going, and Eni’s thigh muscles soon burned. He was downwind of the hounds and Eni hoped that since he had left the path they would have trouble tracking him through water.
At times the water rose as high as Eni’s waist. He floundered and stumbled through it, sure his hunters would catch him up. At other times, it receded to mid-calf, allowing Eni to push himself faster. Eventually, the baying of the hounds disappeared, replaced by the thundering of Eni’s heart in his ears. But still he did not stop.
It came as a shock when, all of a sudden the swamp fell back and Eni stepped out onto firm ground. Bewildered, he came to swaying halt on the verge of a wide road.
The Starwalden Alps reared above him, their white tips brushing banks of cloud. The highway climbed out of the flatland and wound west into the foothills. Eni had been so focused on fleeing his hunters that he had not noticed the mountains had edged closer – until they had become the heavens.
As the realisation dawned that the Tallow Marshes had actually come to an end, Eni stumbled out onto the road, nearly hysterical with relief. After days of wading through cold, wet, bog it felt odd to be standing on dry, firm soil. He now stood upon the Alpine Highway. Constructed of hard-packed earth and river stones, the road was in good condition but empty of travellers this morning.
Leaving the marshes behind, Eni climbed the foothills towards Fallenstar Pass. He was so exhausted he could no longer walk in a straight line. Just a while further and then he could rest. There was bound to be a mountain stream he could drink from. If he could just summon the strength to keep walking he would find it. Soon, however, Eni's vision started to speckle and a roaring in his ears, like crashing waves, drowned out all other sounds.
The world around him began to fade and moments later Eni Falkyn collapsed in a dead faint on the road.
***
Eni awoke to the feel of a woman's hand caressing his face and, for a moment, could not remember where he was, or how he had come to be there. He opened his eyes to see a young woman, probably no older than twenty, with long blonde hair, sitting before him. She had a sharp featured face that was slightly too long to be considered pretty. Yet, her eyes were beautiful; large and as blue as the Ocean of No Memory. Seeing he was awake, the girl yanked her hand back and frowned. Around them, the light was fading. Eni could feel grass against his back but saw that he lay on to the verge of the highway.
“Drink,” said the girl, raising an earthen cup to his lips, “and make sure you don't waste any.”
Eni had no intention of spilling a drop. He gripped the cup as if it held his life blood and drained it of water within moments, sighing with pleasure at the feel of it running down his raw throat. Almost immediately he felt better, although his head ached as if he had just woken after spending the night on the ale.
Groaning, Eni struggled into a sitting position and looked about him.
“You've been in the wars,” the girl observed. “What happened? Are you an outlaw?”
Eni glowered at her before responding. “Girl, I thank you for your aid, but I'd be grateful if you'd not pepper me questions.”
The girl sat back on her haunches and crossed her arms over her chest, her face pursing into a stubborn expression. She was dressed like a boy, in a belted tunic which came to her knees and thick woollen leggings underneath. On her feet she wore soft leather ankle boots. Although Eni was surprised to see she was travelling alone, he noted she was armed. The girl had knives strapped to her right thigh and left calf. A slingshot hung from the left side of her belt and a whip on her right. A large leather pack sat on the ground next to her and a mangy, grey donkey grazed at the verge nearby.
Seeing his incredulous look, the young woman got to her feet and dusted down her knees.
“Yes, I travel alone,” she said breezily. “I can look after myself. I'm crossing into Central Omagen and making for Tarras. Where are you headed?”
Eni grunted and struggled to his feet. He could barely stay upright he was so weak. In this state he would not make it over the Alps.
“I also make for Central Omagen,” he replied. “Do you mind if we travel together for a spell?”
The girl shrugged. “Very well.”
Eni observed her closely, taken aback by her carefree attitude. It was not safe for her out here alone. Either she was recklessly brave or too simple to care. She might be carrying enough steel to bring down a charging bull but he doubted she knew how to use it.
“My name's Avalon Kingswathe,” she held out a hand for him to shake, “and yours?”
“Eni Falkyn.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Eni regretted them. Valense was sure to have put a warrant out over the whole realm. However, the girl did not react to the name. She retrieved the donkey and led it over to Eni. She then shouldered her pack.
“You'd better ride Irwyn – you don't look in a fit state to walk any further today.”
Eni did not about to mind being transported on a donkey. However, Irwyn looked as if he had lived a hard life. He was moth-eaten and bony, with a sway back from a long life as a beast of burden.
“Are you sure he can carry me?” he asked Avalon.
“Of course!” she scoffed. “He’s getting on a bit, but Irwyn won’t have any trouble bearing you.”
“Isn’t he too old for this kind of work?”
“He was all I could afford. He belonged to a grain merchant in my village who used him hard. The man was going to have Irwyn slaughtered, as he was starting to slow down, but I managed to convince him to sell him to me for five bronze dracs.”
Eni raised his eyebrows and regarded the donkey, who was watching their conversation with indifference.
“A bargain.”
“Go on, mount him and we’ll be off,” Avalon urged.
“Very well girl – but don’t blame me when the poor beast drops dead,” Eni replied.
He mounted the donkey and they set out.
For the first time in days, Eni started to relax, revelling in the luxury of being transported for the first time in five days. The donkey's furry coat was warm against his legs and its huge ears flicked about as he walked.
They rode high into the foothills. Steeling himself, as he expected to see signs of his pursuers in the distance, Eni chanced a look behind him. Relief settled over him when he saw no sign of the soldiers, or the dogs. From here, he had a clear view for leagues, east across the glittering expanse of the Tallow Marshes.
The sun had nearly set when the small party reached the entrance to Fallenstar Pass. Legend had it that a falling star, millennia ago, had cleaved a great valley through the centre of the Starwalden Alps, creating the pass. When Eni looked upon the deep gorge with its sheer sides of rock he could imagine why people believed the legend; it cut through the mountain’s bulk, making it look like a giant jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing.
At the entrance Eni caught sight of a darker spot in the stone walls – a cave. It would make an excellent hiding place for the night. The opening was narrow, barely wide enough for a donkey to push through. Avalon pulled a reluctant Irwyn inside the cave and fed and watered him at the back. She complained when Eni insisted they did not light a fire.
“I must have got mixed up with an outlaw,” she replied with a sniff, “if you're afraid to light a small fire.”
Ignoring her complaint, Eni also employed Avalon's help to bring stones from further along the path before barricading them into the cave. He did not respond to Avalon's mutterings about rampant paranoia and sat down on the hard floor near the cave's entrance.
Avalon eventually stopped complaining and Eni heard her digging through her pack. She passed him a hunk of dried bread, a small onion and a piece of salted pork. Eni devoured the food. Hunger made the simple fare taste better than anything he had ever eaten. He took a couple of sips of water, being careful not to drink too thirstily as they had not discovered any mountain streams on their way up to the pass.
Journey of Shadows (The Palâdnith Chronicles Book 1) Page 16