by CC Hogan
Chapter 22 – The Mines
The bed was not as comfy as Farthing had promised, but Mistry slept like a dead dog. When she woke, the first thing she noticed was how much her arms ached. This had become a bit of a problem on the journey, especially across the uneven moors, but the push across the river, followed by several days hard traveling on the dry road, had kind of finished her off. She nudged the place next to her where Rusty had been snoring to find it was empty, then sat up to discover she was alone. The inn was close to a large central market and the noise from the sellers was filtering through the wooden shutters of the upstairs room the three girls had shared. Farthing and Weasel had slept in the Wagon for security, and the two dragons had flown on the day before as they did not know what reception they would get here.
Mistry stretched, pulled a sheet around herself and opened the shutters next to the bed, blinking in the light reflecting off the white buildings. The room looked out over the main street, and she knelt on the bed to lean out of the window, looking up towards where the noise was drifting down from the market. The wonderfully confused mix of calls from the various sellers, the odd bark of laughter and occasional cursing of someone realising they had been done, brought the morning to life. A couple of men shouted out something rude from the street below, and she realised that leaning out of the window while wearing nothing more than a sheet, was probably not the best decision she could have made. She quickly pulled back inside and crawled across the bed to retrieve her travelling clothes.
“Come on, girl, breakfast is down in the common room.” Pree walked in through the door, hair wet from where she had been washing it under the pump by the stables.
“Get the dust out?” Mistry asked with a yawn.
“Most of it, but it has got into places I didn’t even know I had,” the girl said, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“You should have been out front with me then. I feel like I am wearing half the country.” Mistry dropped the sheet and put on her leather trousers and a loose shirt. “I am going to wash first, then have whatever is on offer. Then back in the wagon, I suppose.” Pree came over and gave her a hug.
“Sorry you have to do all this, Mistry. Weasel says that the road is dead straight out of town, so once you get us through the walls, Rusty and I can take turns driving again.”
“Thanks, I will hold you to that. And stick to our other names while we are in town, Sparrow. Mr Horseman’s orders.”
“Oh, I forgot! You’re the second person to tell me that this morning. Far… Mr Goatherd gave me a hard time when I woke him up.”
“You went and woke… No, I don’t want to know!” Mistry shoved on her boots, unlaced, and started down the stairs, the loose shoes clumping on the old wooden treads. “Where are they, by the way?”
“Gone to the market to pick up what we need,” Pree told her, following behind. “You can get out back through here.” They turned down a couple of steps into the livery yard. By accident, they had managed to find one of the better establishments, and Weasel reckoned it was worth forking out on a decent room for the girls and good oats for the horses for one night. The livery had had only two other horses stabled when they arrived so there had been plenty of room for their big draughts. The wagon had been too big for the barn, and they had manhandled it into the corner of the yard. The water pump was behind a wall and they couldn’t be seen through the gate, so, with Pree keeping watch, Mistry stripped off her shirt and gave her hair a really thorough rinse to get rid of all the dust.
“Rusty and I managed the same trick this morning,” Pree said. “I get the feeling that this place is empty a good amount of the time. The landlady who served up the breakfast this morning seemed thrilled to have us here. Certainly not like the packed inns of my town,” Pree told her, working the large handle on the pump vigorously to give Mistry as much water as possible. Mistry shook her hair out, scuttled over to the wagon and jumped into the back to dry herself off. She reappeared, sat on the driving seat, and dragged her fingers through her hair.
“Have you got that brush Farthing picked up on one of his shopping trips?”
“Hang on, it’s in my box.” Pree climbed into the back of the wagon and after some thumping around appeared with the thick brush.
“Thanks, my comb is on its last legs,” Mistry complained.
“No problems, Miss Raven,” Pree said with a grin. “We girls share, you know.” A sort of whimsical look came over her face. “I have never had that before; sharing I mean.”
“You haven’t got sisters or brothers or anyone anywhere?” It was a stupid question really, considering that Pree had been kidnapped by her father’s cousin, but Mistry knew nothing about Pree’s younger life.
“No I haven’t, and I didn’t get to mix with any of the kids of any of my father’s servants either.”
“Were you lonely?”
“Yeah, I suppose I was. It wasn’t till I was chained up with Miss Parrot that I realised how much I had missed. Oh, I have been sneaking out and meeting the odd person that my father and his guards had no idea about, but when I went back home it was just me. In the last few weeks, waking up to find you and Parrot and Lily next to me every day, well, that has been pretty special.”
“Sisters together?”
“Yeah, I like that.” Pree looked at Mistry carefully. “Have I messed that up? I mean with Johnson and me?”
Mistry stopped her brushing and looked at Pree, the slim, strong girl with far too much flame-red hair. “What, you mean stealing the only really good man for leagues when I am turning sixteen in a couple of days?” Mistry smiled gently. “No, Pree, it is alright; it really is. I have no idea where it is going or what the future is for the daughter of a prelate and an orphan from the poorest part of Redust, but you have our support and our help if you need it.” Pree nodded and let out the breath that she had been holding, worried about what her friends really thought.
“Breakfast?” she asked.
“Yeah, breakfast, and quick!”
Henderton had once been the capital of Hendesse, and beneath the neglect and empty buildings there were still faint echoes of grandeur. But as it had lost its status, and the population had built smaller, poorer structures in between the ancient buildings, any of the greater thoroughfares had long since vanished. The big wagon only just made it through the narrow, twisting streets that had grown up over the years. It took them nearly two hours to make it through to the west gate and Mistry sighed with relief and handed the reins over to Rusty when they hit the empty but straight highway. Rusty had proved handy with the wagon before, but the journey had been so difficult across the moors, over the river and along the rutted, stony road, that Mistry had not been able to give her much of a go. She decided to sit upfront for a while until she was happy that all was going smoothly, and then she had plans that involved doing a lot of lying around on the bed in the wagon. Weasel trotted up alongside on his brown-eyed mare who had also been washed down.
“Still dusty, but at least it is clear and not so stony. We should make good time.”
“Is it like this the whole way across?” Mistry asked.
“No, it isn’t. I met Mab-Tok at the east gate this morning, and he and Lily have scouted a long way ahead now. About ten leagues down the road it becomes slightly hillier and more fertile and stays like that all the way to the Mountains. More villages too, though spread out, like over on the south bank of the river.”
“We’ll keep the horses well-watered and see if we can get to the end of this plain by dark. If the road stays like this, we should do it.”
“Mr Goatherd and I won’t be doing any scouting today, nothing to scout for here, so we will keep together. If you want to stay in the back, I can watch the girls to make sure they don’t overwork the animals.”
They would alternate between trotting and walking the horses to make the best speed with the heavy wagon, but it was important to get the bala
nce right. Mistry smiled her thanks. She really needed this day off and she turned sideways on the seat and leant against Rusty. Mistry might not be quite ready to leave the driving seat yet, but at least she could get comfortable.
The wagon made its way along the dusty western highway and then picked up speed as the big horses broke into a trot, the two outriders keeping pace either side. Above the west gate of Henderton, a man, dressed in the style of men from Wessen, squatted on the wall and picked his nose. He watched the cart for a few minutes more and checked on his map. It looked like they were heading to the mines and across the mountains or they would have taken the north-west road. They would go on to Tool, he reckoned, as there was nowhere else in that part of Peys where they could get passage. That also meant that his boss had guessed wrong. The man stood up, climbed down the ladder and walked back into the town to find his horse and buy a spare. He had a long, fast ride ahead of him to find Tekkinmod, and then they would need to race down the coast road to Tool. It was going to be tight, but they had a good chance.
“By an oothens fat arse!” Farthing had no one to swear at, but he thought he would get it out of his system before the others caught up. They had been five days on the road from Henderton, an almost unerringly straight route that cut through low hills, small villages, and endless groves of olive trees, fruit trees and hillsides of vines. Weasel had picked up a very small barrel of some local dark-red wine which they had used to celebrate Mistry’s sixteenth birthday a few nights before. The evening has seen the girl getting giggly, then far too cuddly, then very kissy and finally managing to pass out before she did anything she or anyone else regretted. Still, it had kept Farthing on his toes and close to panic for most of the evening.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mab-Tok was having a day without Lily on board, and flew in from where he had been floating on the high winds, something he had come to enjoy more and more in recent days over the warm plain.
“It looks like something has eaten half the mountain away!” Farthing slid off his horse and stretched his muscles. From where he stood, the road dipped down into a very broad shallow valley, all the way to the foot of the Iron Mountains. If Farthing had expected to see little tunnel entrances, he was mistaken. The government of Hendesse was taking the mountain apart, dumping the bits they didn’t need anywhere on the foothills, and shipping the rest to whoever had the cash. For the most part, that meant the ports and over the seas to The Prelates, an enormous consumer of both coal and iron.
“What you can’t see from here is how they are doing it,” Mab-Tok continued. “They are using loads of workers and the small plains ponies we saw on our way across, and are just mining by brute force. I know I was way up above them, but it didn’t look like it was clever; just big.”
“We can get through alright?” It was a bit late to ask really, but still important.
“We’ll be fighting all the carts shifting dirt and ore, but yes, the route is straight through. Once we start up the hill, we will need to keep going between the rest areas. When we hit the dumps, it is just dirt all the way up to the pass.”
“Oh, great. Like I don’t get enough of shifting dirt and dust at home.” Farthing found a nice smooth rock under a tree and sat down. Mab-Tok ducked under the branches, gently pushed Farthing’s horse out of the way and sat next to him.
“There is a village about halfway from here to the mines, two hours away I would guess.” Mab-Tok pointed into the distance to where there was a small wood. “It is just off the main highway behind those trees and looks to be mostly farming, but it has an inn. It might be a good place to stop tonight. I am concerned about the trip up to the pass through the mines. It is a wide dirt road with a long stream of big wagons carrying away the waste to the dumps closer this way.”
“Why haven’t we seen any wagons coming through here?” Farthing asked.
“I think they are shifting most of the ore and coal over the pass and down into Peys. But there is another main highway going north-east back into Bind and that is the route the Bind traffic is taking.”
“What is the problem with the road?”
“It’s long and steep, and most of the wagons have teams of eight, even ten horses, and some are using oothen; they just don’t stop. Our cart is a lot lighter, but with only two pairs of drafts, we may be slower. I need to take Mistry up for an early morning scouting trip so she can work out what she wants to do.”
“She’ll like that,” Farthing said, laughing halfway through a stretch. “She has been desperate for a break, even though the girls have been doing much the driving for the last week. I think she would like to just get away from us all for a few hours.” It was odd, but they all still referred to Pree and Rusty as “the girls” even though they had now been rescued and there were two other girls in the party; Mistry and Lily. Mab-Tok stood and flapped out his wings to shake some of the dust off.
“There is so much dust from those mines that even thousands of feet up I can taste it,” he complained. “Are you going to stay here? I am going back to the wagon to tell them about the village.”
“I will go on ahead. See if I can arrange a bath or something just in case you guys take a while. I know it is going to get worse up at the mines, but I would like to start clean. And anyway, even Pree has been keeping her distance the last day so I think I am overdue.”
“That is the advantage of flying; quick dip through a nice wet cloud and you feel lovely and scrubbed. See yer!” The horse-sized dragon ducked under the branch and leapt into the sky. Farthing took a slurp from his water bottle, then ran some into his hand so his roan could wet his lips. Down the road, he could see a small stream eking out a living between the dry rocks.
“Come on horse, you can have a proper drink down at that stream.” He swung himself up into the saddle easily and plodded down the hill. He might have only learned to ride a few weeks ago, but he had had so much practice it now felt natural, and he almost could not remember what it felt like not to be able to ride.
“You, know, horse, I have no idea what your name is, or even if you have ever had one. I think you should be named. What would you like to be called? Ceddy? Tekky? No, too close to Tekkinmod. Rabbit? Well, we have a magician called Weasel, after all. What about Fennerpop? He might be flattered if I used his name. I wonder what he is doing right now? Oh, stupid question, he will be shifting dirt, of course. Barkles? Geezen? Oh, sorry, that is a girl’s name and I checked; you might not have it all, but you are definitely a boy. How about …. er …. Rocky? Dusty? Mountainy? Sheepy? Olive? Apple? Grass? Hmmm. I suppose I could just call you Horse. It’s worked so far. Right, Horse it is! I hereby name you Horse, horse. How do you like your new name?”
Mistry took back the reins on the way into the village of Lekid. The girls had done well on the long, straight highway, but neither of them had quite got the hang of sharp corners, and the trail through the woods to the village was narrow and twisty. As they pulled into the small square, a tall, good-looking and incredibly clean young man came out to greet them, drying his hair. Mistry glared at him.
“Do not fret, fair maiden!” he said in as poncy a voice as he could manage.
“Hang on, I am coming,” Pree shouted from somewhere inside the wagon.
“He is talking to the other fair maiden, sweetheart,” Mistry said.
“Ooh! Look who’s all Miss Mardy!” called out Rusty with a laugh.
“Get on with it, Goatherd,” Mistry said, with death in her voice.
“As I was saying, do not fret because in that barn there is a massive great big copper, filled up with clean water, a big bar of soap and a pile of towels I managed to persuade the innkeeper to let me have. There are some big holes in the walls, but we promise not to peek.”
Four blurs shot passed the young man leaving him staring at an empty wagon and four bemused horses.
“Okay, girls and boys,” he said to t
he Bekon Browns, grabbing the lead horse by the halter and leading them and the wagon slowly into a large livery yard next to the barn. “Your turn. I don’t suppose you know where that bloody magician is? No, I thought not.” He threw the towel onto the driving seat, put the brake on, unhitched the horses and lined them up at the trough to drink. They all stuck their heads straight in, right up to the ears. “Well, looks like I didn’t have to make you,” he said, wondering if they got the joke.
“What have you done with the female four sevenths of our band, Mr Goatherd?” Weasel walked his horse into the yard followed by Mab-Tok. A scream and a splash echoed from between the slatted wooden walls of the barn. “Alright, I worked it out. Now, how many barmaids did you kiss to pull that trick off?”
“Only a landlord at the inn when I arrived so I avoided that method. No, they were happy to help out. Seems that when they upgraded the main road for the mines they bypassed the village and now they get almost no custom at all. He all but hugged me when I said there were seven for dinner.”
“Did you mention two were dragons?” Mab-Tok asked.
“Oh, I might have forgotten that bit,” Farthing admitted. “Any dietary considerations?”
“What is he cooking?”
“A sheep.”
“I’ll adapt,” the dragon said, licking his lips.
Suddenly the door banged open and a small, white, and very wet dragon trotted passed wrapped in a towel. Mab-Tok stared with his mouth open.
“What’s wrong?” Farthing asked.
“Dragons don’t take baths,” Mab-Tok said in amazement.
“I do!” called out the little dragon from inside the cart. “I do now! Bathing is wonderful!”
“How do you normally wash?” Farthing asked, realising that he had never seen a dragon washing or seen a permanently dirty one.
“Just get very wet and the rest sort of just falls off. Soap is not needed. Slippery skin, you see. And imagine the size of bath Fren-Eirol would need. Or Bell-Sendinar?” It was a good point. “Lakes and oceans are very useful in those cases.”
“But they don’t smell nice,” Lily said, climbing out of the wagon wearing one of the thin, silk, finely-woven gowns loved by the Draig Wen, and looking exquisite. Mab-Tok just sighed and Weasel and Farthing looked at each other, grinning. Three more, towel-clad girls sauntered out of the barn filling Farthing’s arms with clothes.
“Rinsed and hung to dry out, boy,” Rusty told him in a haughty voice, and they dived into the back of the wagon.
“Well, you kind of set yourself up for that,” Weasel told the young man.
“It’s alright, Mr Horseman. I had a chat with the barman about the road up to the Mines. It is going to be a really hard journey. At the very least, I owed Mistry that bath. Wasn’t quite planning on doing the washing, but I am sure you can help.”
“Well, I think I have other things…”
“Oh, no, I am pretty sure you can help. Right after you have also had a bath. How long has it been?”
“I had one!”
“Yes, we gave it to you back in Wead! Mab-Tok, Grab him!”
And for the second time since Weasel had known Farthing, he was picked up and thrown into a large copper of water, still clothed, and ordered to wash. He had no trouble hiding the non-existent smile.
Mab-Tok took Mistry to see the road that cut through the mines and up to the pass before dusk at her suggestion. She wanted to start out before it was properly light in the morning to give them as long a day as possible, knowing the journey was going to be slow. It had been weeks since the girl had flown, and feeling clean and rested, she whooped for joy as Mab-Tok leapt off the ground and flapped up into the air.
“Higher, Mab-Tok. Take me as high as you can!”
“Why?”
“Just cos!”
The Dragon, not always in tune with the wishes of sixteen-year-old human girls, shook his head in puzzlement and headed into the clear skies till Mistry was near breathless. She leant forward on his back and put her face on his warm neck, closing her eyes as he swept across the plain to the mines.
It was still busy around the digs and the rows of tents in the mining town that had sprung up by the works, but it was becoming too dark for the wagons, and the highway was quiet. Mab-Tok flew halfway up the mountain and landed on a sharp hairpin bend. Mistry climbed off his back and looked up and down the road. She could see the road ran dead straight from the broad valley in a long, long climb, though not particularly steep. But then, not far below where they stood it became steeper and zig-zagged up the side of the broken mountain in long stretches with dangerous cliffs between the turns.
“This is going to be hard and slow,” Mistry said, turning to watch the road disappear into the gloom. “How many turns does it make?”
“Twenty,” the dragon told her. “They get much shorter towards the top and there are a few big rest areas on the way up.”
“We are definitely going to be using those. What about water points for the horses?”
“At the rest areas, but I am not sure whether we will be allowed to use them or not. This has been built for the mines, though it is a public highway, I suppose.”
“We will need both barrels full then, and only use them for the horses and to cool their legs. I would have preferred a team of six, to be honest. We now have a lot of weight on that wagon.”
“We have two other horses,” Mab-Tok pointed out.
“I doubt they have ever been harnessed to a team in their entire lives, they will just panic. No, we will have to do it with the four, but I only want me in the wagon, or perhaps Weasel as well.”
“Why?”
“Weight, for one, but if I lose it on one of these bends, I want to just jump off and not worry about anyone in the back.”
“Does that happen?” Dragons, for fairly obvious reasons, knew little about wagons.
“Oh yeah. One of our neighbours lost his back wheel off a bend in the Black Hills two years back. His son managed to jump off, but he was on the cliff side of the wagon and didn’t make it. He followed his cart down a three-hundred-foot drop. Anyway, I can’t imagine any of the wagons here going faster than walking pace on these upper stretches, especially if they are using oothens, so the others can walk along behind.” Mistry looked out across the plain to the small village where her friends were currently trying out the local brew. “Come on Tok,” she said, punching him on the arm gently. “Let’s get back while the inn still has beer.”
“Do sixteen-year-old humans always like beer so much?” he asked her as she hooked her feet into the straps on his back.
“Given half a chance, yes.”
“What about dangerous jumps off cliffs in the dark?”
“Why do you ask? Ohhh…… Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…….t.”
“What do you mean, a permit?” Weasel looked down at the small, annoying man sitting on a box at the bottom of the mine road, shaded by a tatty umbrella. The man held a clipboard and was ticking off the wagons passing downhill full of waste rock and dirt.
“This road cost a lot of money to build Mr …?”
“Horseman.”
“Horsehoof. We charge people to use it. Have you mine business or passing through?” The man’s annoying nasal voice was drilling into Weasel’s head.
“Horseman. Going over the pass and into Peys. We have no business with the Mines.”
“Well, you still have to pay. Will you be using the stopping points? You will need to show a pass to get into those, Mr Horsehead.”
“Horseman, and yes, we will need to rest the horses.”
“Yes, you don’t have the expected number I notice.” He wrote something down. “I assume that you will also want to water the animals, Mr Houseman?”
“Horseman, and yes, we will want to use the water.”
The man scribbled down something else and tore off a piece of paper.
“That will b
e fifteen for the wagon and team, and another three for the two extra horses, Mr Headman if you please.”
“Horseman, and thank you,” Weasel said between gritted teeth, swapping the coins for the permit.”
“Thank you. Now move on please Mr Headman.”
“Horseman, Horseman, Horseman! My bloody name is Horseman!”
“Next!”
As they trundled up the first straight leg of the climb, Farthing leant over to the fuming magician. “I am pretty sure his brother runs the dumps in Wead-Wodder. We all spend hours dreaming up terminal fates for the miserable little git.”
“Anyone acted on any of them yet?”
“No, but it has been a close call a few times.”
“I can imagine. Come on, let’s get some distance up this road before we are forced back down to walking pace.” Weasel nudged his mare into a slow trot.
Farthing tried to spot Mab-Tok and Lily, but if they were still airborne, he couldn’t see them against the bright sky. He blinked the dust out of his eyes and pulled the scarf up over his face.
“First stopping point ahead!” he shouted back to Mistry, who had been keeping up a slow but steady pace for the last hour.
“Good. Has it got water?”
“Can’t see yet.”
“Want to cool their legs down if I can; more important than drinking at this point.”
The last thing they needed was for a horse to go lame on this hill with nowhere to camp. Mistry had been right about the pace of the traffic, and they had slowed right down so they were not too close to the large wagon ahead of them and risked a face full of dust from the road. Farthing turned into the first stopping point and led Mistry over to the far end where there was a huge, raised waterbutt fed from a pipe coming down the hill.
“Must have tapped into a stream somewhere,” Weasel commented, waving his pass to a small man with a satchel who ran over and clipped a hole in it.
“You can only use each stopping point once in either direction,” the man explained in a near identical voice to the man who has issued the permit. “That mark is your first at this point. Good day.” He scuttled off to wait for the next wagon.
“Good idea of yours to start early,” Farthing said to Mistry as she jumped down.
“Grab the buckets, Mr Goatherd,” she told him, checking the harnesses and adjusting a couple of straps. “Let’s cool their tendons down a bit first and then they can drink.” She had tied rags around each of the horses’ legs that morning which they now removed, soaked in water, and then tied them back on.
Weasel looked carefully at the permit. “I just noticed there is a rough map sketched on here,” he said. “Looks like they will punch their way up the sketch. At least we have a clue how far we have left to go.”
“At the moment, it is all about up,” Mistry said wryly. She looked up at the road where it headed to the first of the twenty hairpins she had to negotiate. “It is steeper from here on in, so everybody off.” She wandered over towards the road to watch a team of eight pulling a large wagon. Although empty, the driver was still taking his time since the horses would do this route two or three times in the morning and he needed to save the beasts. Of course, he was only going to the current mining operations, halfway up the road. From then on, the wagons would be mostly full and transporting ore up and over the pass. Still, he was going slowly enough that his mate was walking in front with the lead pair. Mistry turned back to the wagon and jumped up onto the driving seat. Rusty was tying the wagon bonnet up tightly so it didn’t fill with dust.
“Do you need a fresh skin of water?” she asked Mistry.
“I am alright for the moment. Time to get going.” If the young girl sounded unfriendly or abrupt, no one was going to object. She was in charge and it would be a long, slow, and unpleasant drive.
Two stops later they were two-thirds of the way up and it was lunchtime. Mistry desperately wanted to keep going, but she had to give the horses a longer rest.
“Get them unharnessed,” she shouted to anyone listening, and climbed into the wagon and collapsed on the bed. Rusty peeked in.
“How are you doing, sis?”
“Tired. How much beer did we drink last night?”
“Not as much as we could have. We are going to get reputations at this rate, girl.”
Mistry giggled. “Well, I can think of worse things to have a reputation for, and anyway, at least we get to choose what we do. We very nearly didn’t.” She looked up at Rusty with a searching look. “I hear you sometimes dreaming, Rusty. And Pree.”
“Have you told the others?”
“No, but I think you should.”
“I don’t want them getting worried.”
“What Weasel?” Mistry laughed gently. “He won’t lose sleep over it, but he probably ought to be reminded exactly what you guys went through.”
“What about Farthing?”
“Yes, he needs to know too. Trust me, Rusty, he will get it. I know he is your silly big brother and Pree’s new-found soulmate, but I was chained to him by those slavers when we thought that was going to be our whole life. We didn’t go through anything like you did, but he will still understand.”
“It’s difficult,” Rusty said, furrowing her brow. “When I am awake and with you lot, my family, I don’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. I just want to be silly and talk rubbish and have cuddles and be, I don’t know, young I suppose. Pree is the same, even though she knows that once we get out of this, her life is going to change forever and my brother’s life too.” Rusty sighed. “It scares me, actually. It is not the romance thing, because most of the time they are just a couple of silly, infatuated kids.”
“I can relate to that!” Mistry said with a wicked grin.
“So I noticed on your birthday. Pree was close to dunking you in the nearest lake.”
“Oh. That bad?”
“Yeah, that bad. Anyway, what scares me is what they are planning, or at least what they want to plan. They are on this mission to change the world, to change my world and your world, to give us a better life. It sounds lovely, but I think it is going to be near impossible and dangerous, and they are going to end in serious trouble or worse. Frightens me stupid sometimes.” Rusty sat down and rubbed her eyes. “Dust everywhere, Mistry! I need another bath!”
“Well, if their grand plan gets me baths on a regular basis, it has my vote,” Mistry said. “Look, I know this is all scary stuff, but they are not alone. Weasel might be a right irritating little sod, but he is not stupid, and he is watching them carefully and thinking about everything. I have seen him. And we have his mother and the dragons back in the Black Hills with those crazy people from the desert.”
“What, like that cute young Gellin, you mean?” Rusty had a twinkle in her eye. Mistry looked away suddenly.
“Yeah, him too,” she said nonchalantly. “And we are going to Taken first before anything happens. So yes, it is scary, but it hasn’t happened yet, and I still have to get us up this bleeding hill!” Mistry stood, dragged Rusty to her feet, and gave her a hug. “One mountain at a time, sis.”
“Yeah, one mountain at a time.”
The road had steepened significantly, and they had slowed to a crawl behind a huge, six-wheeled wagon and trailer, pulled by a line of massive oothen. The large hexapods might be much stronger than even the largest of horses, but they were not exactly light on their feet, and they could be stubborn, going by the shouts of frustration from the driver. Weasel was sitting on the driving seat with Mistry since at this slow pace the horses were coping well.
“If this map is accurate, we have three more turns, one last rest point, and then two turns and we are on the pass proper,” he told her, showing her the permit with its roughly sketched map.
“Map-Tok and I ran out of light so I didn’t see the actual pass at all,” Mistry told him.
“It is still broad and Mab-Tok says
it has been cut through part of the mountain so it is not as bad as here. The Peys side of the pass is much gentler and with the wet winds in from the sea, it is greener and less dusty. That is about all I know, but it sounds an improvement over this.” He waved his hands over the barren waste of the mine workings and the winding, dirt road. “Are those oothen getting slower?”
“Oh, damn!” Mistry brought the horses to a standstill and Weasel pulled on the brake. “What the hell is he doing?” She stood up on her seat, still holding the reins. “He is really yelling at those beasts, you know.”
“Is that the way to do it?” Weasel asked.
“Don’t know; never driven an oothen. Doesn’t work well with horses if you do it all the time, they get annoyed and stubborn and then… Oh, shit!”
“What?” Weasel stood up hurriedly.
“One of the oothen has broken his harness. He better have his brakes on.”
Suddenly, the wagon ahead lurched as the oothens panicked and dragged it sideways across the road complete with its rocky load.
“Everyone, away from the back!” Mistry shouted, aware that the others were standing behind her wagon. “Weasel, hold that brake. Farthing! Go to the horses; keep them calm!” The young man leapt down from his horse and ran between the lead pair, making soothing noises. “What the hell is he up to?” Mistry sounded worried. “The idiot is whipping his oothen. They’re going to freak.”
The massive six-wheeled wagon suddenly lurched again, the oothens now fighting against their harnesses, and then it was tipping over.
“Farthing! Turn the horses, now!”
It was a wide road and with only two pairs, they should be able to get around.
“Too late!” Weasel shouted. There was a sound of ripping and cracking wood, and the trailer, filled with ore, rolled backwards down the hill towards them, its metal-rimmed wheels grinding heavily against the stone and dirt road. Before Farthing could stop them, the lead pair of horses wrenched their halters out of his hands and backed up in panic into the wheelers, who backed into the wagon. They were on the steepest section of the road, and the brake couldn’t hold them. Weasel pulled as hard as he could on the brake, but they kept sliding backwards.
“Put the chocks under the wheels!” shouted Mistry, desperately trying to get the big horses under control as Farthing grabbed for the lead pair again. Rusty and Pree shoved the chocks under the wheels and for a moment they held, then the chocks too started sliding on the loose road surface.
“They are not holding!” Pree shouted out.
“Get out of there!” Mistry shouted back. The trailer ahead of them started picked up speed, and then one front wheel caught a rock, turned, and the trailer careered straight across in front of them, missing the lead pair of horses by inches, before it slid off the edge of the road and crashed down the cliff. The older mare rolled her eyes back in fear and bucked and reared, and Farthing leapt into the air and wrapped his arms around her neck, forcing her back to the ground. Mistry, determined not to lose the wagon and team, yelled at the nearest pair to get them pulling.
“Mistry, your wheel!” Rusty shouted from the back, just as the rear wheel of the wagon started slipping sideways to the edge of the road. “It’s going to go!”
“Come on! Heeya, Heeya!” Mistry shouted, while Farthing used every muscle he had to pull the great mare forward.
Suddenly, the cart jerked and the rear wheel slid off the road and the wagon started rolling backwards, tipping alarmingly. Farthing growled as he pulled, and Mistry slapped the reins on the backs of the horses.
“Move, damn you!” she shouted.
And then there was a huge crash, and the wagon lurched sideways, sliding across the road and away from the cliff.
“Mab-Tok!” Pree shouted in shock.
“Get that brake off!” Mistry yelled at Weasel. He released the handle and Mistry and Farthing between them got the horses moving straight again. “Whoa! Stop! Farthing, stop them! Weasel, brake! Chocks!”
The big wagon lurched once more and stopped, the horses panting, sweating, and foaming at the mouths. Pree and Rusty shoved the chocks under the back wheels then grabbed some large rocks from the side of the road and pushed those behind the front wheels till the wagon was held fast. Mistry sat down and turned to Weasel, who was sweating fiercely from pulling so hard on the brake and staring down over the cliff.
“What happened?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought we were going over.”
“Mab-Tok!” Pree shouted from the back. “Quick, come help him!” Weasel and Mistry jumped off the wagon to find Mab-Tok lying flat and unconscious in the middle of the road.
“Where did he come from?” Weasel asked the girls.
“He just flew in from nowhere and crashed into the side of the Wagon, knocking it back onto the road.” Pree was kneeling by the dragon with her hand on his chest. “He is hardly breathing, Weasel. Where is Lily?”
Weasel shut his eyes and concentrated. “She is up on the mountain top. She can’t get here without Mab-Tok.”
Wagons were stopping everywhere and two big men came up from the Wagon behind them.
“Can’t you keep control of your stupid horses?” one of them shouted. Mistry lost it and marched up to the big man, twice her size.
“Me? Don’t you call me out, thickhead. Look ahead of you! That idiot and his oothen nearly knocked us off the bloody cliff!” She punched the man in the stomach, not hard, but it made him step back in surprise. His fellow grabbed his shoulder.
“She’s right, Den. Look. It is that mad bloke we ran into yesterday. Hey! He had a trailer earlier.”
“Well, it is down there now,” Mistry shouted, the reality of how close they had come to following the trailer down the mountain hitting her hard. She started to tremble. Farthing came over and put his hand on her arm. She tried to shake it off in her anger, but he didn’t move.
“Sis, go check the horses,” he said firmly. “I can’t calm them as you can. Now.” Mistry stalked up to the horses. The man who she had hit looked up at the big, muscular young man who was obviously in no mood to argue.
“Sorry, mate,” he said. “I got scared and angry.” He looked down at the dragon. “Can we help?”
“We need to get him off the road, but he is out cold.”
“I’m not surprised. Have you seen what he’s done to your wagon?” The man was right. The left barrel was completely smashed and part of the thick sideboard pushed in.
“If he hadn’t, we would have all been over the cliff,” Weasel said. The second man pulled the first aside and whispered something.
“Look, we got an empty wagon here and eight horses,” Den said. “It is bigger than yours. You get yourselves sorted and stay here. We need to get that idiot and his oothen out of the way and his wagon shifted, and then we will get help from the other drivers and lift your dragon onto our wagon. Are you going over the pass?”
“Yes, down into Peys,” Farthing told them.
“Well, we are not going that far, but we can get you up into the old pass and then there are places you can stop just off the road up there. There is even a small stream you can stay by.” Farthing shook the man’s hand.
“Thanks, and sorry about your stomach.”
“I had it coming, mate, but it didn’t really hurt,” the man said, smiling. “Made me bloody jump, though!”
Pree and Rusty looked after Mab-Tok while Mistry stayed with the horses and Farthing and Weasel helped with sorting the capsized wagon. It had been badly damaged by the oothen, so the drivers from the queue of mining wagons simply pushed it over the cliff, to the loud protests of the driver. He shut up when he was told he was lucky they didn’t tie him to it first.
Then it was the turn of Mab-Tok. Den and his mate brought up their wagon which was an open-top quarry wagon with sides that dropped down. It took eight of them to man
handle the small dragon up into the back, and then Rusty and Pree jumped up with him; there was no way they were going to leave him.
“I am sure your dragon will be fine, miss,” Den said, trying to be friendly.
“He is not my dragon, his name is Mab-Tok,” Pree told him firmly. Den all but saluted her.
“Sorry, miss. I don’t know much about dragons. I’ve never seen one before except in drawings.” He smiled, a bit embarrassed by his own ignorance.
“They make the best of friends,” Pree told him. “And the bravest.”
“They do at that, miss. They do at that.” The big brute of a man punched his friend in the arm and climbed up quickly onto his driver’s seat to get the wagon and eight moving.
Weasel and Farthing threw the remaining bits of the barrel over the cliff, helped Mistry get their own wagon moving and followed Mab-Tok and the girls up the hill. Weasel untied his horse and mounted up.
“I am worried about Lily,” he said. “Mab-Tok left her right up on the peak and she is trying to climb down. I am going to ride on up to the pass and see if I can help in any way, even if it is just to make sure she is careful.” He handed the permit over to Mistry.
“Maybe she will find a goat to follow,” Farthing said.
Weasel smiled and galloped up the road. Farthing hung the chocks with their ropes around his neck and climbed up next to the Mistry as she coaxed the still frightened horses up the hill. Suddenly, she pushed the reins into his hands, put her face on her knees and shook with sobs. Farthing didn’t say anything, he really didn’t need to. He just put one arm around her and pulled her close.
The old pass through the mountains was like a different world. They hadn’t appreciated there was effectively two passes. The new wide road that had been hacked through the mountain for the big mine wagons, and the remains of the old pass through a narrow gorge, too small and winding for anything larger than their wagon and four, and unused now. The mine drivers carefully negotiated their big wagon as far as they dared, and then all of them slid the still unconscious dragon down planks onto the grass next to the path. Mistry helped the men unhitch their four pairs and led them back up the pass while Farthing and Weasel helped manhandle the wagon around. The men hitched back up and then Den came up to Mistry with his hand held out.
“Friends?” the big man asked. Mistry eyed him suspiciously for a moment then took his hand.
“Yeah, friends, and sorry.”
“No, I am. Look I am not the brightest bloke, I know that, but I should have used my eyes first and my words second. My mum always used to tell me off for that.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “You know, I was watching you with your team just now and you are way better than most of the drivers on the job. We don’t have many women drivers, but there are a couple. If you ever want a job, I will vouch for you. It’s hard, but its regular, and that is about as much as my brother or I can hope for. Anyway.” He climbed up onto the wagon and picked up the reins where they lay over the foot board. “They are still clearing the new pass out, so we have a ton of rock to pick up and haul back down the hill. Enjoy the trip down to Peys. It is a nice run and the road up to Tool is good. There is also a big inn called Hilda’s on the highway down at the bottom of the mountain. Food is straightforward, lots of it and is cheap. Good luck, Miss. I hope your friend’s alright.” He clicked quietly and his horses moved into a trot and back to the new road.
“Better than most, eh?” Farthing said, putting his arm around the girl. “I said you were good.”
“Or course I am good, Farthing!” Mistry elbowed him hard. “And hungry. How is Mab-Tok?”
“Still out, but Pree thinks he is breathing easier. She is sitting with him looking as worried as hell.”
“What about Lily?”
“I haven’t seen Weasel yet, but hopefully, she is climbing down. If she is stuck, I am going to have to climb up and help her, I think.”
They walked back to where they had pulled the Wagon onto the grass just by a small stream that was winding down the rocky, tree-covered steep hillside above them. Leaving Mab-Tok in the caring hands of Rusty and Pree, Farthing and Mistry unhitched and unharnessed the horses and walked them into the stream to drink, then tethered them safely to a line, giving them their oats in nosebags. They still had two more hours of light, but they would not be going anywhere till the next day at the earliest. Farthing made up a fire, boiled up some water from the stream, and cooked beans with dried smoked ham that he had picked up a few days before.
Mistry was still trying to get over their narrow escape. She was all too aware that if Mab-Tok had not saved the wagon, there would have been a real chance that both she and Weasel would have been killed, and she was having trouble shaking it off. She hung onto Farthing for a good half hour, then excused herself and went to sleep in the wagon, even though it was not yet dark. Farthing took two bowls of bean stew over to Rusty and Pree, who ate it thankfully.
“Any change?”
“I don’t know,” Pree said. “I really thought we were going to lose him on the way up. At one point, we thought he had stopped breathing.”
“Anything broken? He must have hit that cart incredibly hard.”
“We didn’t even see it happen, it was so quick,” Rusty told her brother. “Suddenly he was there and the cart just skidded sideways. He must have rammed into it.”
“Probably the only thing he could do,” Farthing said. “He saved Mistry and Weasel. They would have gone with the wagon if he hadn’t.”
“Where is Mistry?” Rusty asked.
“She went to bed. She is still shaky.”
“I will go stay with her,” Rusty said standing up. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“Thanks, sis.”
Rusty stood, shaking some of the dust out from her clothes and untied her hair. “And I still want another bath!”
After a couple of minutes, she reappeared with blankets and one of the bedrolls and gave them to Farthing and Pree. “You mustn’t get cold out here. Look after him.”
Farthing laid out the bedroll, put a couple of the blankets over Mab-Tok, then sat down cross-legged on the ground. Pree lay down and put her head on his leg, holding his hand to her face.
“I am scared, Johnson.”
“I know. So am I.”
She kissed his hand and closed her eyes.
A few hours later, with the sun now set, Weasel appeared on horseback from the shadows, the small white dragon sitting behind him. She jumped off the horse and rushed over to Mab-Tok. Farthing woke Pree, who sat up quickly.
“I’ll get a couple of the lamps,” she said, and trotted back to the Wagon. Lily was stroking Mab-Tok’s head and whispering in her strange language that she sometimes used. Farthing took Weasel’s horse from him as he climbed down.
“Where did you find her?”
“About half a league back down the main road,” the magician answered. “She had a hell of a time getting down and couldn’t work out where she was in the dark. Farthing, she was crying.”
“She was upset!”
“You don’t get it; dragons don’t cry! I didn’t think it was even physically possible. Anger yes, sob and shout when upset, but not crying, not like that. It was like a child. There are things about these Draig Wen I just don’t understand. They are definitely dragons, but then, you know, they are almost human too.” The magician looked positively confused which was something Farthing had rarely seen before. Pree emerged from the back of the wagon with three lanterns, handing one to Farthing then hanging the other two from branches by Mab-Tok.
“Oh, no!” she said. “Farthing, Weasel, help me, will you?” Pree pointed at the small white dragon. In the lamplight, they could now see how hard the climb down had been. Her clothes were torn to shreds, she was filthy dirty and she was covered with cuts, scratches and bruises.
“I must help Mab-Tok!” Lily pulled away from Farthing w
hen he put his hand out to her. “He’s getting worse!”
“Lily, you both need help,” he said gently. “Let Eafa check Mab-Tok, and let us help you. Then you will be able to help Mab-Tok better.” She looked undecided, but Pree took her hand.
“Let them help, Lily,” she said. Rusty and Mistry appeared, and seeing the state of the Draig Wen, they helped her to her feet and the four girls climbed back into the wagon.
Farthing knelt beside Mab-Tok. “She’s right mate; he’s hardly breathing!” Farthing looked up in panic. “Weasel, you need to do this.”
“He is a dragon; I don’t know anything about dragons. Lily needs to do it.”
“Lily can’t. You saw the state of her, and you helped Fren-Eirol.”
“That was different, I was just closing a wound I could see. This needs proper healing, and I am not a healer, Farthing!”
“No, you are not. That is what your mother told you. You are not a healer, or a finder, or a speaker, or a wave talker, or any of those stupid things, but you can still do them. You can do this. Weasel, you must do this.” The magician looked suddenly very old and very nervous. Farthing reached up, grabbed him by the arm and firmly pulled him down next to the dragon, pushing the magician’s hand down onto Mab-Tok. “Do it, Eafa, or he will die.”
Weasel looked up at the young man, then down at the dragon, his friend. He frowned, then closed his eyes and put both hands on the dragon, pushing gently with his mind. He jerked back and looked up at Farthing. “Definitely not a human,” he said, shaking his head. Then he tried again, cautiously.
For the next hour, Weasel delved into the strangeness of the dragon’s body, trying to find his way around, to understand how he was constructed, what made him work. As he had said, Mab-Tok was not human, but he was not unfamiliar either, not in a way he thought a dragon should be. The sweat was pouring down his brow and he began to shake and go white. Suddenly he opened his eyes briefly in shock and toppled over backwards, out cold.
“Oh, sod it, not again,” Farthing muttered. But then Mab-Tok stirred slightly, blinked a couple of times, and licked his lips.
“What happened? Oh, I am so tired!” And he fell asleep.
Lily climbed down from the wagon nervously, wearing one of Mistry’s shirts. She rushed over to Mab-Tok, put her hand on his head and then sat up in surprise.
“Mab-Tok is well? He is sleeping! How?”
Farthing pointed over to the unconscious Weasel. Lily blinked several times.
“How? He should not be able to cure a dragon!” the Draig Wen said.
“But I thought he was special, different.”
“He is, but he still shouldn’t be able to do it. No human can. Never ever.”
Farthing thought that this idea of never was getting tired. “Weasel says that dragons can’t cry, but you had tears in your eyes.”
“Draig Wen are complicated,” she said dismissively.
“Well, it looks like Weasel is complicated too, then,” Farthing said softly.
The small dragon contemplated the idea. “That might be true too,” she said. “Will Eafa be alright?”
“Yes, he will. He won’t be in a good mood and will have a bad headache, but he will be alright. What about Mab-Tok?”
“He is already alright,” Lily said with some amazement. “I, I …” She hesitated and looked up at Farthing. “I couldn’t have done that.” She shook her head. “I will stay with him now because he will still hurt when he wakes.” She lay down and curled up next to the Draig Bach-Iachawr and rested her head on his shoulder.
Farthing shook his head, not even bothering to try and work it all out. Standing up, he picked up the bedding role in one hand, then picked up Weasel with the other and slung him over his shoulder. Taking him over to the wagon, he dropped the bedding roll on the ground, and gently lowered the unconscious magician onto it, covering him with a blanket.
“Now,” Farthing muttered to himself. “Where the hell am I going to sleep?”
A small, timid, young woman with rich, red hair popped her head around the end of the wagon, smiled a small smile, and held out her hand.