Besieged

by Verity Moore

  Thorson and Hezzor stopped at the crest of a hill. “I had forgotten. We must wait for dawn. It’s too treacherous.” The bridge man swept his arm across the valley filled with rotting logs. “In our urgency to find the treasure, we produced wanton waste. And a great hazard.”

  Kyam rested his hands on Cierra’s shoulders. “Agreed.”

  Cierra gasped. Kyam was never so blunt and maladroit with his words. Thorson looked crushed. She jabbed her elbow into Kyam’s stomach.

  “Oof. What displeases you, my queen?”

  “Other than being referred to as a queen, you need not have agreed with Thorson.”

  “But we did have difficulty navigating his obstacle course midday.”

  “You agreed about wanton waste.”

  “Ah. Now I see the difficulty. I focused on his wisdom in choosing to wait for daylight. While you latched onto his self-derision.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It was the last thing he said. Even Thorson thought that was what you referred to.”

  Kyam swiveled to look directly at the bridge man. “My apologies, friend, for words mistaken. Instead of seeing first people, I saw strategies of how best to proceed. Hence my bumbling harmful word.”

  Throson threw himself against Kyam’s chest. “I would not have misunderstood if I were not such a simpleton. Such a gracious apology for what was not your fault. Thank you.”

  Kyam patted the bridge man’s back. “You are most welcome.” Over Thorson’s head, he cocked an eyebrow at Cierra.

  Did that expressive lift speak to “only simpletons (which must then include her) misinterpreting his words?” or asking if his apology was acceptable to her? She had no intentions of floundering any deeper in that quagmire. When first she painted Kyam, that eyebrow would be most prominent, probably exaggerated. Or not. “Well done, my king.”

  Hah. That lowered both eyebrows. She allowed her smirk to spread wide across her face. If he was permitted to call her queen, then…

  Hezzor intervened. ‘Light comes stealthily. Soon we can proceed.’

  She crossed her arms against the cold. Standing still greatly increased her discomfort. “How soon?”

  Hezzor’s antenna touched her forehead. Tesmore has a proverb: Peace begets patience.

  “Delays are difficult to accept.” Kyam kneaded her shoulders. “Unless they are seen as directions from The Masters. They alone know what lies ahead.”

  The dark gray faded into a dingy mist, muffling all sounds but the bird songs. They ventured into the fallen forest, testing each step. Avoiding logs and nets formed by rotting branches required time.

  When they reached the general area of the river door, Kyam took the lead. “Ya-Wyn, Your assistance, please.” Overhead the leaves began to rustle. Cierra and Kyam searched, craning their necks.

  She pointed. “There. Gold leaves.” Her insides began to hum. So easy to find the right tree with Ya-Wyn’s help.

  Kyam strode to the trunk and twisted the “knob.”

  Thorson stared as the trunk opened up to reveal a room. “The Masters be praised. Unless we had chopped down every tree in the forest, we Thorsons would never have discovered this. How providential your arrival is!”

  “Another mutual benefit, my friend, for your maps are a great blessing.” Kyam stood to one side to allow Thorson to enter. “What think you? Buried treasure or hidden aloft?

  Except for an occasional nose twitch, Thorson was still as he pondered. “Thorsons are more squirrels than moles. Let us start high.” He tilted his head back and stared up into the conical roof. “It is too dark to see and I brought no lamp. What a simpleton I am.”

  “Are there any signs of rungs or climbing accessories?”

  Thorson ran his hands up and down the rough walls. “None. Whatever shall we do? I did not think to bring tools to build a ladder.”

  “We will lift Cierra up to look.”

  So it was that she found herself sitting on Kyam’s shoulders feeling for a treasure’s hiding place. “Nothing.”

  “Can you reach all the way to the top?”

  “No.”

  “Brace…er, ah, Can you brace your arms against the wall and stand up?”

  She patted the top of his head. “No time for diplomacy. Go ahead and give orders.”

  “Hmm. I am in a rather vulnerable position if you should take exception, wife.”

  She chuckled, “Fear not, husband. Now hold my feet steady if you please.” She was grateful for the dimness. It covered her less than graceful moves from sitting to standing. If Kyam had not held her, she would have tumbled more than once.

  She turned to feel the walls—and found a shelf with her head. “Ouch.”

  “What? Are you hurt?”

  “Fine. Just bumped my head on something.” Before she could investigate, Castoff growled a warning. A faint drumming sounded in the distance.

  Hezzor stuck his head in the door. “Ho’ses com.”

  “There are no horses in these woods,” Thorson said.

  Kyam tilted his head the better to hear. “Then it must be soldiers.”

  “Perhaps Caparian…” Thorson stepped outside.

  “No, not Caparian.” Had he forgotten what they had said about the soldiers or didn’t he believe them?

  “Quick, Thorson, Castoff, get in. Hezzor, can you hide?”

  The werfs melted into the forest.

  “There is not room.” Thorson poked his head in. “I will scale a tree.”

  “Too risky. Castoff, in sir. Now, Thorson, straddle him and pull the door shut.” Kyam shifted to the side and Cierra leaned forward to accommodate the sloping ceiling, holding herself in place with hands pushing against the wall.

  With grunts and a yelp—Thorson accidentally stepped on Castoff’s paw—they managed to squeeze in and shut the door.

  Utter darkness. Again. How many times had she been enveloped in black, sightless holes since leaving Landend? It did not get easier to bear with repetition. Each time she felt smothered and helpless.

  Castoff growled low in his throat. Kyam ran a hand over her foot. Thorson sneezed. She was not alone. Her heart pattered. The darkness no longer threatened.

  The drumming drew closer. She turned her head to listen and discovered a pin hole of light. Probably compliments of an industrious woodpecker, the opening fit her eye perfectly.

  At first all she saw was a green blur. Then images began to sort themselves into identifiable objects, individual leaves, branches, a russet colored bird.

  The sound of horses’ hooves was getting closer.

  Castoff growled. No, it wasn’t him. The hair on her neck prickled. The growls, yips, and howls came from outside—and all of them could not be coming from one throat. Nor did it sound like the werfs.

  ✽✽✽

  Corporal Frick pulled his horse to a halt at the captain’s signal. The stupid hounds had worked themselves into a frenzy. They circled a tree baying and howling, rearing up on hind legs as if they planned to climb it.

  “Agor,” the captain barked, “examine the tree.”

  Frick saw Agor grimace as he dismounted. This was not the easy victory they had been promised when they signed on. Easy money. Rich spoils. Not so much as a whimper of protest from the natives, let alone any resistance to their conquest.

  Something had gone wrong. He could see it in the captain’s tense jaw…and in the increased flights of the fulcarries. He could feel it in the pit of his own belly. Just how wrong? If this forced march through uncharted forests was any indication, His Eminence’s plan was in serious trouble. Frick shook his head. He should have quit when they were told to board those rickety boats and travel for days on the River Salz.

  What did the captain expect to find in a tree?

  Agor shoved the hounds out of his way. When they didn’t retreat, he cracked his whip. That made them pull back a couple of steps.

  “Nothing, Captain.”

  “The dogs disagree. Someone could be up in the branches.” The captain’s ey
e swept the column. “Corporal Frick, investigate.”

  “Yes, sir.” He eyed the behemoth in front of him. Just how long did a tree have to stand to reach such an immense size? And what did the captain think could be hiding in the tree that was worth the bother? An entire battalion of enemy soldiers?

  There was no way to reach the lowest branch from the ground—nor seated on his mount. He heaved a sigh. “Hold my horse.”

  Only when Agor had a firm grip on the bridle did he stand in the saddle to grab the only branch within reach. The whole column watched. He dared not show any sign of discomfort or fear.

  Sweat popped out on his forehead. His arm muscles trembled as he pulled himself up. Once standing on the first branch, he plotted a path to the top. Anything less than a thorough search and the captain would send him back up.

  Bird nests, squirrels, and a wasp’s abandoned cone: nothing to interest the captain. There were no lines of sight since they were surrounded by like-sized trees. A complete waste of time and uniform — torn on an obstinate branch. He eased his way down.

  He dangled from a branch—feet searching for the next lower branch, glanced at the trunk and lost his grip. He dropped the last scentons, bounced off his horse’s rear and landed on his knees.

  Rough laughter and insulting suggestions surrounded him as his comrades offered their opinions. Agor hauled him to his feet.

  “What happened, corporal?”

  “Lost my grip, sir.” Under no circumstances would he ever admit that for one moment he had thought the tree was staring at him.

  ✽✽✽

  Cierra jerked back, heart thumping, and hit the wall. She held her breath. Surely the soldiers had heard her. Rumbles of mirth and ribald comments filled the air but no sounds of alarm.

  She had not expected to see an eye looking through her knot hole. If she had seen him, he must have seen her. Did they have an axe? How long would it take to fell the tree? They were too outnumbered for Kyam and Castoff to win. Even the werfs might not swing the advantage to their side. The river door—could they find the treasure in time? Was it a key and code book? Endless questions swarmed in her head, all eluded capture.

  Faintly she heard Frick say he had lost his grip. She waited, but he gave no further explanation. No mention of an eye. She heard the command to move out. The sound of dogs and horses faded, then silence, and finally the normal forest sounds returned.

  “Thorson, the door. Open it a crack and let Castoff sample the air.”

  The dog nudged the door wider.

  “Careful.” Kyam’s warning came too late. Castoff bolted from the room carrying Thorson with him.

  Kyam chuckled, “I’ve seen more graceful riders.”

  Cierra peered through her knot hole. “I have seen smaller donkeys.”

  Kyam wrapped his hands around her ankles. “I will lift you down.”

  “Not yet. I found a ledge.” She swept her hand over the shelf and touched a soft leather pouch. “Perhaps the treasure? Catch.” She dropped it into Kyam’s hand.

  He handed the bag to Thorson, who had returned, and steadied Cierra as she descended.

  “It may not be what we hoped for.”

  “Why the doubts?” She had been so sure The Masters had provided their need.

  “The shape is right. But not size and weight. Too much for a code book and key.”

  She turned away as Thorson opened the pouch. Would disappointment always have the power to sear?

  “Is this the treasure you seek?” Thorson’s voice shook.

  “The Masters be praised. Look, wife, They have provided above and beyond what we asked.”

  Cierra turned. Three. There were three. Three books resting in Kyam’s hands. And three keys glittering in the bridge man’s palm.

  She blinked. Yes, there truly were three.

  Chapter 8

  Each of these is written in a different hand. But the contents are identical.” Kyam laid all three books—open to the same page—on a log. Hezzor studied them from his upside-down position. The other four werfs maintained their watch positions facing outward.

  “This is Great-grandfather’s.” Thorson caressed a page. “And this,” he pointed to the manuscript beside it, “See the ornate loops? Is my great-great-grandfather’s.”

  “You recognize their handwriting?” Cierra found it hard to believe, since she had never seen her grandfather’s script.

  “Each Thorson writes a blessing over all their future generations. All are framed and hung on my walls. And all are read thrice weekly. From the day of my birth, I have seen and heard them.”

  “An amazing legacy. Would it offend you if Cierra and I copied your family’s tradition and made it our own?”

  “I would be honored…especially since it will otherwise die.” Thorson stared into the forest. “These books are the ones you need? My quest is ended? The treasure found?”

  “Exactly what we need. Once again Thorsons’ faithfulness has blessed the land of Capular. Its very existence may well hinge upon it.”

  “It has always been our purpose…it makes our solitary existence tolerable.”

  “Since there are three of each, the werfs may borrow one, and if you approve, Cierra and I will use one, which leaves one set in your care.”

  Cierra stroked Riflet’s fur. “Do werfs read?”

  Hezzor shook his head. “We no longer have that skill.”

  “Then why give them a set?”

  Kyam fingered a key. “Think how many times unexpected people in need have crossed our path. Hezzor may well be an instrument of rescue. With his ability to see hearts, he will know who to trust. And there is the matter of security. With the books and keys divided there is less likelihood of all being confiscated by His Eminence.”

  Thorson took the oldest of the three books and tucked it next to his heart. “I will begin my own copy of it at once—I’m years behind in its formation. Even a simple man can reproduce another’s words—or numbers and letters in this case.”

  After wrapping a book in oiled skins, Hezzor placed it in the pack Dareby now wore. “With our lives we will protect this treasure.” The key disappeared in his chest. When Cierra stared closely she noticed a slit no larger than a strand of hair between his shell plates. “It is best that we leave immediately. Both our presence and the shields to protect us from the plumes, which we hope to bring back, will be of value in the battle ahead.”

  Kyam looked at the five werfs, “The discovery of the books and keys has made the decision for us. Thorson needs your skills and protection. Will you return here from the Outer Realms as quickly as possible?”

  Hezzor knelt on one back leg before Thorson. “Hon’r to ser.”

  Thorson knelt in front of the werf. “Companionship. What joy!”

  “You will be greatly outnumbered. Hezzor, confrontation must be your last resort.”

  The lead werf nodded.

  “Until they return, Thorson, if more soldiers should come, pretend that you know nothing. That you never met us.” Cierra tucked their copy of the code book into her pack.

  “You want me to lie?” Thorson looked ready to weep.

  “They are the enemy and they are trying to kill us,” Cierra snapped. Had he forgotten all they had told him of their enemy? Did he not care about their safety?

  Thorson cringed. The younger werfs cowered behind Hezzor. She swallowed hard. What had she done? Surely her plume was rising. The bridge man blinked—several times. She winced at the bewilderment and pain in his eyes.

  Kyam intervened, “Forgive us. We would not want you to do something which damages your conscience: you are right to refuse.”

  “I do not want to be the cause of your deaths either.” He stared at a blue jay scolding overhead. “If I were not such a simpleton, I would know what to do.”

  “If all were simpletons such as you, we would hear Ya-Wyn’s voice easily and often.” Kyam placed his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Capular would never have fallen prey to a
n enemy if all were as you.”

  “But what am I to do?”

  “Are you good at hiding?”

  A smile stretched across the woodworker’s face, digging grooves in his cheeks, even moving his ears. “I know all kinds of hiding places—caves, dipsom bushes, behind a little waterfall. If I’m close,” he held up his key, “I can slip into the river portal.”

  “Then if you see or hear soldiers coming…”

  “I’ll hide. Then they can’t ask me about you and I won’t have to lie!” His grin disappeared and he nudged a pine cone with his foot. “Will you ever come back this way?”

  “Yes, I’m sure we will.” Cierra held up the leather pouch. “These must be returned to your keeping.”

  “What else shall we bring with us?”

  The pine cone rolled back and forth under Thorson’s foot. “If…” he gulped, “if you should find a maiden who does not care for marketplaces and lots of people and who could care for a simple man…” He shook his head. “That is too much to ask. Perhaps if my fine friend,” he scratched behind Castoff’s ear, “should have pups…”

  Kyam laughed. “The second will be easy, for he is a romantic fellow. But we will try for the first as well.”

  “Oh dear.” Thorson whirled to face the werfs. “I meant no disrespect to you or to imply that your friendship was inadequate.” He shook his head and yanked on a tuft of hair. “If I were not such a simpleton, I could explain myself.”

  The werfs circled them until they stood in a tight, touching knot. Hezzor spoke first. “No offense was taken. All creatures yearn for communion with their own kind.”

  Byssop chimed in with what Cierra was certain was a twinkle in its slanted cat’s eye, “And a dog, while inferior to a werf, is good for his kind.”

  Castoff growled and feinted in the big cat’s direction.

  Kyam laid an arm across Thorson’s shoulders and the other on Cierra. “Come, let us petition The Masters.” Furry snouts pushed in between bodies and legs. “Great and Loving Masters, see your servants gathered under the banner of Ya-Ray and for Ya-Owni’s purposes. Grant us the strength to do what Ya-Wyn has called us to do. Give us Your divine protection, for You know our paths are perilous. We look forward to the day when Capular reflects Your Empire and its citizens mirror Your image. May Your name be revered to the farthest corners of this sphere.”