Wiflem gawked at me. “Your horse, my lord? At this time of night?”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes fixed on the Pith camp.
“But, where will you be riding, my lord?”
I remained focused to the west. “There,” I grunted.
Wiflem followed my gaze and he shifted uncomfortably. “Do you mean to try a night sortie, my lord? Because if so, I would not recommend—”
“No sortie,” I snapped, cutting the older man off. “Now get me my damn horse.”
“Yes, my lord,” Wiflem said with a slight bow before turning and striding away.
It took Wiflem less than ten minutes to saddle Angry and bring him to me, but long before he arrived, I heard footsteps behind me. I sighed. “Don’t start, Jebido,” I said, not bothering to turn as he stopped beside me.
“What’s this nonsense Wiflem tells me?” Jebido demanded. “You’re actually going to ride over to the Piths?”
“That’s just stupid, Hadrack,” Baine said from my other side. I hadn’t seen him moving in the darkness, dressed as he was in black leather.
“I’m starting to think you have a damn death wish,” Jebido growled. “What possible good can it do to sacrifice yourself like this?”
I turned to face him. “I can end this war, Jebido. Right here and now, forever. I just need to talk with Einhard to do it.”
“Then wait until the morning,” Baine said. “Talk to him from the safety of the ford like before.”
I shook my head as Wiflem appeared, leading Angry. “This can’t wait until the morning.”
Jebido grabbed me by the wrist of my hand that held the codex. “I’m not letting you go, Hadrack.”
I took my free hand and pried his away, not letting up on the pressure when I saw my friend wince in pain as I squeezed. “You don’t have a choice,” I said.
“You stubborn bastard!” Jebido hissed. I let him go as he rubbed his wrist, staring at me with fury in his eyes. “Then if you are so bent on dying tonight, you’ll have to deal with Baine and me dying as well. Because we are going with you.”
“No, you’re not,” I growled. “I have to do this alone.” I moved to Angry and swung myself into the saddle as Wiflem held the horse’s bridle, his face set with disapproval.
Jebido kicked at the ground in frustration, then spread his arms as he blocked my path. “What has gotten into you, Hadrack? Why are you so determined to get yourself killed?”
I ignored him. “Wiflem,” I said in an even voice.
“My Lord?”
“Have your men detain Jebido and Baine until I get back. If I see them or anyone else following me, I will take your head.”
Wiflem lowered his eyes. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good,” I grunted as I urged Angry around Jebido toward the riverbank.
“You fool!” Jebido shouted at my back as I rode away. “You damn stupid fool! You’re not even armed!”
I kept riding, focusing on the far bank where Einhard, thousands of Piths, and hopefully, the end to a war all awaited me.
22: The Codex and the Piths
It didn’t take very long for the Pith sentries to notice me. Cries of alarm sounded, followed by warriors on horseback galloping toward me. The last time that I had ridden alone toward a Pith camp, they had only tried to intimidate, not hurt me. But this time, the first man to reach me didn’t even pretend that his intent was anything but my death. I shouted at him to stop and that I only wanted to talk with Einhard, but he just spat a curse and swung a war hammer directly for my head. I managed to twist to one side in the saddle, avoiding the worst of the blow. The edge of the iron face of the hammer still grazed my temple, though, with the metal shaft cracking painfully against the meat of my shoulder before deflecting away. I fell from Angry’s back, landing heavily in the dew-covered grass as the Pith leaped nimbly from his horse. He came for me then, growling as he pounced on top of me, the sharpened beak of the hammer now pointing down as he lifted his weapon for the killing blow. Then a second warrior appeared, and he clasped his hand around the first man’s wrist and twisted, eliciting a grunt of pain before the hammer dropped from numb fingers. It was Saldor.
“Chieftain,” Saldor said to me as he pushed the injured Pith away with a contemptuous shove. “Are you lost, or have you become deranged?”
“Neither,” I assured Saldor as he helped me to my feet. I felt around, relieved to find the codex still tucked safely away in my trousers, knowing that the words inside were all that stood between me and a quick death. Would Einhard listen to what I had to say, or even care for that matter? I was betting my life that he would, though I doubt even Saldor would be willing to take that wager right about now.
Warriors on foot and horseback poured out from the camp and began to swarm all around the two of us in a sea of outrage, their faces half-seen in the light of torches as they shouted angry words at me. But suddenly, there were Amenti among them, pushing back against the surging crowd as they began to form a protective cordon around where we stood.
“Why have you come here, Chieftain?” Saldor asked. “What you are doing is very dangerous and foolish. You must turn back. I can’t guarantee your safety for much longer.”
“I have to speak with Einhard tonight,” I told him. “It can’t wait.”
Saldor hesitated, then he shook his head. “He won’t speak with you. Go back to the river while you still can.”
“Yes, he will talk to me,” I said, trying to sound confident. “And as my Sword, I am depending on you to get me to him.”
Saldor took a deep breath, then he nodded. “Very well, if that is what you really want. Mount your horse, my chief, and do nothing that might anger our brothers further. I will try to get you through to Einhard.” He grimaced. “But don’t blame me if his reaction is not what you expect.”
Saldor and I rode deeper into the Pith camp together, with the Amenti warriors pressing in tightly around us on all sides, shielding me from the members of the other tribes who cursed the Amenti and called them traitors. Someone threw an axe from the crowd, which clanged loudly off the boss of Saldor’s shield. I hunched low in my saddle, afraid that soon arrows would start to fly as well. Riders and men on foot from both sides pushed and shoved against one another in a teeming mass of confusion, with the Amenti working furiously to clear a path for us using the flats of their swords. But a solid wall of Piths had now moved to block our progress, refusing to step out of the way as they struck back with their own weapons. Both sides were being careful not to kill or injure one another, but I knew if we didn’t break free of the mob soon, that would change and blood would start to run.
“Enough of this!” a voice rang out over the uproar. “Make way! Make way, I said!”
The Piths began to step aside, revealing Einhard limping toward us. He was dressed in light mail and a naked sword was clutched in his hand. He paused to stare up at me incredulously as he took in my lack of armor and weapons. “Have you lost your mind, Hadrack?” he finally said.
“That is what I asked him,” Saldor muttered.
I jumped down from Angry and made my way toward Einhard. “I need to speak with you,” I said. “It’s urgent.”
Einhard just glared at me in disbelief. “Your arrogance astounds me, Hadrack. Our debt of life to each other is paid. Do you really think that just because we were once friends and I made you a Peshwin that you are safe here?”
“No,” I said. “I think nothing of the kind.”
“Then why would you come here, alone and dressed like this if you didn’t think that I would show you leniency?”
“Because I know the truth now, Einhard,” I said. I pulled out the codex and held it up. “You were right all along, my friend. The Master created the world just as you told me.”
Einhard blinked in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Hadrack? What trickery are you planning now?”
“Look at me, brother,” I said forcefully. “Look into my eyes and you will know that t
his is no trick. The Pathfinders were wrong. They misinterpreted the blood, and we are fighting each other for no reason. Gandermen and Piths were never meant to be enemies. We are all brothers, born of the same gods. I can prove it if you will just listen to me.” Einhard’s face was set in stone, impossible to read. I moved closer to him. “We have all been misled, Ganders and Piths alike, and the time has come to set things straight.” I spread my arms. “That is why I’m here, alone like this, asking for nothing except that you listen to me. Do that, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
“And if I don’t believe what you have to say?” Einhard growled.
I let my hands drop to my sides. “Then you can do with me what you want.” Einhard studied me, his one eye hard and cold. “Please, for all that we have meant to each other,” I said. “Just listen. That’s all I ask.”
Einhard shifted his gaze to Saldor behind me. “Bring Hadrack to my tent in twenty minutes. See that he behaves. If there are any problems, I will hold you responsible.”
“Yes, brother,” Saldor said.
The warriors from both sides slowly began to disperse at Einhard’s sharp command. I could see many of them looking at me with resentful eyes, even some of the Amenti. I tried not to focus on their hateful glares, and instead, I worked on what I wanted to say to Einhard while we waited. I figured I only had a few minutes to convince him, or, if not that, at least pique his interest. Beyond that, there was no telling what the volatile Sword might do. I wasn’t all that keen to find out.
Finally, we were summoned by a monstrous Pith who reminded me vaguely of Eriz, and Saldor and I paused outside the entrance to Einhard’s tent.
“I will wait here,” Saldor said. “Call if you have need of me.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Thank you, Saldor. You have been everything I could have asked for in a Sword and much more.” I turned to go inside, then thought of something and paused to look back. “Is there a senior Pathfinder here, Saldor? One who the others listen to and respect?”
Saldor pursed his lips as he thought. “None are above the other, Chieftain. But if I had to choose, I would say Malakar would best fit the description that you give.”
“Can you see if he can join us?”
Saldor inclined his head. “I will ask, Chieftain.”
I stepped inside to see Fitz pacing back and forth in the light of several fat candles. “Hadrack!” he called out as he rushed forward to embrace me. “Einhard told me you were coming, but in all honesty, I thought he was just playing one of his cruel little jokes on me. I didn’t think even you would be so foolish as to come here alone.” He laughed. “I should have known better.”
I glanced at Einhard, where he stood at the back of the tent with his arms behind his back as he glowered at me. I nodded to him, then turned back to Fitz. “I’m surprised to see you looking so healthy and fit, my friend. I guess captivity suits you.”
Fitz shrugged. “I gave Einhard my word I wouldn’t try to escape. I have the run of the camp, so to speak.” He leaned forward, a hand cupped to his mouth, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Don’t let that cranky face fool you, Hadrack. He’s delighted to see you.”
“Looks to me like he’s hiding it well, then,” I said sarcastically.
Fitz laughed and drew me further into the tent. “Care for some wine, Hadrack?”
I nodded and Fitz busied himself pouring us wine. I noticed a chatrang board with crudely formed figures of stone and wood sitting on a stool. “You’re still playing?” I said to Einhard, surprised. I had actually thought he’d just been humoring me in Gasterny when we played together.
“It passes the time at night,” Einhard muttered. He gestured to Fitz. “My slave here reintroduced it to me.”
“Tut, tut,” Fitz said with a chuckle. “Slave is such an ominous word.” He handed Einhard a mug of wine, then me. “I prefer something closer to reluctant servant, if you don’t mind? It just has a better ring to it, I think, all things considered.”
“Shit still smells bad no matter what you call it,” Einhard grunted.
“True,” Fitz agreed with a grimace. “You certainly do have a way of cutting directly to the heart of an issue sometimes.” His face brightened as he raised his mug. “Here’s to friendship, then.” Neither Einhard nor I moved as Fitz snorted impatiently. “Enough of this silliness, you two. You’re both stubborn idiots, and you aren’t fooling anyone. Now drink your damn wine and stop acting like spoiled children.” I drank reluctantly, then Einhard slowly brought his mug to his lips. “Good,” Fitz said, looking pleased. “Now that we have that settled, why did you risk your life to come here, Hadrack?”
“He suddenly believes in the Master now,” Einhard said, his voice deep and suspicious. He swirled the wine around in his mug, then downed it in one gulp. “It’s awfully convenient timing, don’t you think? Hadrack knows we are going to smash him tomorrow, and he’s looking for a way out.”
I bristled at that. “We already sent your men running with their tails between their legs twice,” I snapped. “And we can easily do it again.”
“You think so, do you?” Einhard growled as he slammed his mug down on a table.
“I know it,” I said, glaring back at him.
“Why do I even bother?” Fitz muttered with a sigh. He turned to Einhard. “You said you would be nice.”
“This is me being nice,” Einhard grunted.
“And you,” Fitz scolded, turning to me. “How can anybody have a serious conversation with you when you look at them like that? Frankly, those grey eyes of yours are unnerving.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I protested. “It’s him. He’s the one not willing to listen.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Einhard rumbled. “I could have just had your throat slit and left you where you fell.”
I was about to respond angrily when both Einhard and Fitz looked past me in surprise. I turned. A tall, thin man with a bald head and looped rings in his ears stood just inside the entrance. He wore a bright purple robe and had an oval, intelligent-looking face. This, I guessed, would be Malakar.
“You wished to see me, Sword?” Malakar said.
Einhard turned his sarcastic gaze on me. “No, I did not. I believe we have the puppy, here, to thank for your presence.”
Malakar blinked, looking back and forth between us. He gestured the way that he had come. “Shall I leave, then?”
Einhard took a deep breath, then let it out noisily as he waved a hand. “No, Wise One, you are here now. You might as well stay and hear what he has to say.” Einhard folded his arms over his chest, staring at me in challenge. “I doubt this will take long.”
“Very well,” Malakar said. He swept past me, lifting the hem of his robes to sit cross-legged on the furs lining the floor of the tent. He glanced at Fitz with little warmth in his eyes. “Can you not see my throat is parched, slave? How long must a man wait to quench his thirst?” Pathfinders might be the equivalent of Gander priests, but they were still Piths and liked their drink as much as any other of their brethren.
Fitz hurried to get the Pathfinder some wine, and I waited until he had drunk his fill before I began. “As I explained to Einhard earlier,” I said. “I know now that the Piths have been right all along. The Master is the Lord of us all. He made our world from nothing and gave life to everything that inhabits the lands and the seas.”
Neither Einhard nor Malakar showed much reaction to my words, though Fitz looked shocked. “Hadrack,” he said, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing? You risked your life to come here just to say that?”
“You are pandering to us,” Malakar said bluntly, studying me with unamused eyes. “You speak the obvious in some misguided hope that it will distract us from the coming battle.” He shook his head. “Piths are not so easily fooled, Ganderman.”
I shook my head. “No, Wise One, that is not my intent. If someone had asked me only a few hours ago if I believed in the Master, then I would have l
aughed at them and told them no.”
“Have you had a vision, then?” Malakar asked, looking suddenly interested now. “Has the Master visited you and told you to lay down your arms and accept Pith superiority?”
“No,” I said. I withdrew the codex. “Inside this holy book written by Ganders is the proof that the Master created our world.”
I heard Fitz gasp. “Is that the codex?”
“It is,” I said. “But before I explain what it says, I need to tell a story about a man and a woman who lived long ago and a quest I participated in to find this book and end a war.” I glanced at Einhard. “It’s a long story, my friend, but one that I think you will appreciate. Though I’ll need you to let me live long enough so that I can tell it.”
Einhard merely nodded, his features unreadable as I began to talk. I told them about a Son-In-Waiting finding the original codex and concealing it hundreds of years ago inside another book. Then of how the pages were mostly unreadable when it was finally found, all except one page that had helped to start a civil war. Next, I told them of the copy the Son-In-Waiting had made of the codex and how the scholar, Rorian, who was working for the Cardians, had eventually concluded that it was hidden somewhere on Mount Halas. Then I described the harried pursuit we had undertaken over land and sea to catch Rorian. I could see Einhard’s cold features starting to thaw as I talked, the warrior in him appreciating the many trials we had faced along the way. I told them then of the Walk and what Sabina and I had gone through on that heartless mountain, only to find the cave empty in the end except for a single journal.
“This man that you spoke of,” Malakar said when I finally paused. “This Son-In-Waiting. What was his name?”
“Waldin,” I replied.
Malakar and Einhard exchanged a look, and I thought I could detect a change in both their demeanors. “And the woman that he wrote about in this journal?” Malakar asked in a soft voice. “What was her name?”
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