by Verity Moore
Chapter 9
There.” Kyam pointed toward a valley below and to their left. “Lipfar.”
Cierra slipped her hand into his and rested her head against his arm. It looked so small from here. The city’s red stone buildings were square and low. The city wall undulated with the sloping land, which led to the deep turquoise satin of the Islis Ocean. Like corks, ships bobbed at anchor in the harbor. The summer storms had ceased. When had she lost track of time?
They sat on a ledge, partway down the last mountain, with trees at their back, and ate their noon meal. She searched for signs of distress or death in the city, but all looked normal—all, at least, that she could see. Tears of joy leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“His Eminence’s men will be watching for us.” Kyam turned to face her. “If not in the city, then on the roads leading to it. They know Lipfar is our destination.” He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “They will station most of their forces in this section close to the city.”
She swallowed a moan. “How do we avoid them?”
“We will wait for dusk to proceed, use the darkness to cover us. And then depend on Castoff’s nose to warn us when we approach an outpost. It will take two nights to reach it.”
“Two?”
“Reduced sight, slower progress. And our path winds back and forth in a very indirect route.”
✽✽✽
Cloud wisps moved across the face of the moon like a veil stirring in a breeze. Kyam crouched next to their open packs and began redistributing the items.
“My pack was not too heavy.” Cierra’s mouth went dry.
“There are certain things I want to make sure you have.”
Into his pack went extra clothing, her sandals, the maps, most of the food, and all but Mischief’s water skin. When she saw what he put in her pack, her stomach clenched. Healing water, Thorson’s code book and key, her sketch book, and the poison antidote: all the things that must reach her father.
“We go together or not at all.” She grabbed his wrist to stop the rearrangement. “There is no need to put all the vital things in my pack.”
“The information we carry is more important than either, or both, of our lives.” When she groaned, he wrapped her in his arms. “The Masters have chosen us for a difficult task. And while our name is not Thorson, we will be faithful—regardless of the cost.”
She locked both arms around his neck. “I can’t go on alone. Not on the road to Lipfar, not in the years of living beyond.” Panic made her shake.
“You are stronger than you realize. But I doubt The Masters will ask you to walk alone. If not with me, then with another.”
What an awful thought. She clung even tighter. “I want no one but you.”
“Thank you, kitten. That is the most precious gift you could give.” He squeezed the breath from her lungs. “To be second-best wounds the soul.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “We must petition The Masters for safety, but make provisions for war. Come. Let us not waste the moonlight.”
Shadows moved like a dappled gray mare prancing across a meadow. Everything seemed to shift and move without substance as the moon and the clouds glided overhead. The illusion made it easier to hide their movement as they picked their way along the trail. But it was more difficult to walk without stumbling—what appeared to be shadow became a stone or shallow hole.
They had traveled several miles when Castoff gave the signal she dreaded. Trouble. She scanned the path ahead. It narrowed and dipped between boulders—a perfect place to trap the unwary. Cierra looked to Kyam and waited.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Hide in those bushes while I see what lies ahead.” He pushed the bushes apart with barely a rustle of sound and helped her step into the middle. After releasing the branches, he passed in his pack.
And then she was alone. Clouds bunched together and the night became much darker. Which was best for him, but left her feeling breathless and uneasy. Mischief rubbed its frond across her cheek. At least she was not totally alone. The air was heavy; it would rain soon. She hunkered down and rested her forehead on bent knees. Kyam had taught her that eyes were the first thing seen after dark. So while she wanted to constantly scan the area for danger, she forced herself to close her eyes and listen.
The hoo-hoo of a night bird. The screech of a rodent. The wind combing through the leaves. The plop of a raindrop on her pack. The thump of her own heart. All reassuring sounds.
But she did not hear the most comforting sound of all—Kyam’s voice.
She thought of all the times they had walked unknowingly into danger. She remembered the underground cave, the poisoned pond escape, Kyam’s staff dividing the storm. Surely The Masters would not bring them this far to fail. And to lose Kyam was an insurmountable failure.
She hugged the two packs. Please, she begged, don’t take him from me.
Her own voice echoed from a time in Landend when all seemed normal. I want nothing between The Masters and me. How easy to make such a vow when it took so little to keep it. She shuddered with dread. The Masters would not like holding second place in her affections. Could her fierce love for Kyam endanger him as much as her plume?
Am I a bully still? Ya-Owni’s voice whispered across her heart. She gave a restless shake of her head. When she caught only small glimpses of what The Masters were doing, it was folly to try to determine what They planned. And to judge Their heart based on those same small sightings was idiocy.
Goodness and care, a passionate love for Their creatures: these were all part of who They were. Trust. Without seeing all that was happening. Without knowing why…she must trust.
Trust Their heart.
Even if it broke hers.
The branches swooshed and swayed. “Cierra…” A large hand reached toward the packs.
His whisper was so hushed it did not stir the air. “A contingent of twelve lies sleeping beyond a narrow spot in the trail. One drowsy sentry watches. There is no way around.” He kissed her hair. “I will go first. Sing a lullaby with my fist, then we will slip past. It is not the best plan, but the only one I can see.”
She nodded and followed. Before they drew abreast of the pass, Castoff stiffened, turning to the right. His fur collar stood on end.
Mischief dropped from her shoulder to the dog’s back. Its frond brushed his ear. His head cocked as if listening to a voice.
Castoff bounded away, Mischief clinging to his back like a monkey.
“No.” Kyam started to chase the dog then stopped. “He will rouse the contingent. Why has he behaved in such an irresponsible manner?”
“I suspect Mischief is to blame. What are we to do?”
The dog’s run through the woods was anything but silent.
Kyam groaned, “We will never get past them now.”
New sounds erupted—the guard’s shout, the crunch and rumble of running feet…
And an angry squeal.
“A boar.” Kyam tightened his grip on her arm. “Quick, while they are watching for the angry tusker, we may get through.”
Not worrying about silence or stealth, they pounded down the trail, through the narrow pass and out the other side. Behind them they heard the confusion and clamor of men facing an unexpected menace.
“Thank you, Ya-Wyn, the boar was much better than my plan.”
Cierra nodded. “With yours, they would have known we passed by. This way they do not.”
Castoff, with Mischief still clinging to his back, met them a mile down the trail. Tongue lolling, ears up, tail swishing with great pendulum swings—he was obviously pleased with himself.
At dawn they looked down at the city again. This time they were close enough to see individual buildings with ant-sized creatures scrambling to and fro.
“So close,” Cierra murmured.
“But still too far to continue during the day. We will find a cave where we can rest and wait.”
Less than a melo further on and a hundred scentons from the pat
h, Kyam spotted a low opening in the rock wall. Cool and dry, with no signs or smells of recent inhabitants, it appeared the ideal place to wait out the day.
Sleep was slow to come. Her mind skittered from thought to idea to hope and back again. “Kyam,” she whispered, “are you awake?”
“Hmmm?”
“You have made many sacrifices and discomforts for a country not your own. You do not regret choosing this ‘mountain’?”
“Ah, but I did not choose it. The Masters did. So it must have infinite worth.”
“Even risking your life?”
“I told you. Life becomes mere existence if I hold onto it at all costs. If I value it too highly, it loses all worth. Now sleep, kitten.”
✽✽✽
Castoff’s growl woke them mid-morning. In the distance they heard hounds baying on a trail—probably theirs. They scrambled to their feet, grabbing packs and slipping from the cave.
Kyam’s face was grim. “It’s a race to the city.” He held out his hand. She placed hers in it. He gave it a squeeze and tugged her toward the trail. He set the pace, a pounding lope.
It wasn’t long until they reached a split in the path. He pointed to the left. “This way.”
Castoff blocked the trail.
The tromp of feet marching in unison was coming toward them. Kyam wheeled to the right. Far less traveled, this path was overgrown and strewn with stones.
“Where does this one lead?”
“Thorson’s map indicates it leads back into the mountains. But it does not matter where it goes; it is the only other option.”
Now they ran even harder. Cierra had a sharp pain in her side; she ignored it. Sweat stung her eyes; she brushed it aside and kept going. Her legs trembled with fatigue; she forced them to move. For over a melo they ran. The trail became steeper and increasingly narrow.
Kyam set Castoff in the lead. Cierra and Mischief followed, while he came last. To their left rose a wall so vertical it would be impossible to scale. To their right was a sheer drop-off of two hundred scentons or more, which ended in a jagged pile of rocks. Cierra forced her eyes away from the edge. Falling would be a horrible death.
Another hundred scentons—around a sharp curve—and Castoff stopped without warning. Ahead, a tangle of broken trees, boulders, and earth blocked their path.
Kyam took the lead, looking for a safe passage to the other side of the rock slide. His first step caused the pile to shift and rattle. He jumped back in time to avoid trapping his leg. He tried again. Again the pile moved, inching toward the drop off.
He shook his head. “It will not support us. Come.” He hurried back down the trail, stopping to uproot a large bush with a one yank. He pointed to a small niche in the rock face. “In here.”
“There is not room.”
“You are small enough. It will work.”
Her throat tightened. She knew the answer before she even asked, “And you?”
He traced her cheek with a calloused finger. “I will draw them off.”
Cierra whimpered. He hushed her lips. “You must reach Lipfar. I need to ensure your safety. We each have a mountain to conquer.”
She turned her head to kiss his hand. She blinked back her tears; they would have to wait.
“When you hear me shout, cry as loud as you can. Then wait until you are sure all the soldiers are gone.”
“They will see me and the hounds will smell…”
He held up the bush—a dipsom. It might work, but it would not save him.
Kyam cocked his head to listen. The baying sounded close. “When you leave…”
Cierra choked back a sob; he would not be coming with her.
“Take the dipsom and pull it behind you to ruin the scent.”
She nodded and bit her lip.
He pulled her into his arms. “Masters, watch over my Mela Dolsi, bring her safely home.”
She burrowed deeper into his arms. Memorizing every scent and sensation. Storing up images for fifty lonely years.
“They are growing close. One last kiss, kitten?”
She grabbed his face with trembling hands and standing on tip toe pressed her mouth to his. Her fingers tunneled into his hair as she strained to be even closer. She opened her heart and her lips.
She was a starving woman who knew she had only moments to grab morsels from the feast, before it was gone forever. She knew it wouldn’t be enough, that she would carry a deep hunger with her for the rest of her life.
Kyam ended the kiss, pressed her head against his chest and murmured, “If, from the first, I had known this day was coming, I would still choose this mountain.”
She lifted her face and he rested his forehead against hers. “I will try to meet you in the city. If not, Toby and I will be waiting to greet you in The Masters’ Empire.”
He settled her cross-legged on the ground then had Castoff straddle her lap. “Care for her well, my friend.” He cupped the dog’s muzzle. “It seems I must wait until The Empire to hear your voice.” He poked the dipsom in the earth. She steadied it.
And he was gone.
His footsteps moved away from her at a rapid pace. In the other direction the loud clomp of booted feet drew closer. So arrogant, so confident, they made no attempt at silence.
Before they reached her hiding place, she heard Kyam’s shout.
She screamed. She filled it with pain and grief and all the loneliness to come.
✽✽✽
The heavy footsteps broke cadence and rushed past her to the rockslide. Dogs howled their excitement. She pressed her face into Castoff’s back to keep him still.
“Halt, Dubin, the path grows dangerously narrow.” The voice sounded within feet of her hiding place.
“Yes, sir,”
Footsteps returned. “Jumped or fell over the edge, sir.”
“Dead?”
“Can’t be anything else.”
“Nevertheless, we must find the bodies and send them to His Supreme and Revered Eminence. Take a contingent to the cliff base, sergeant. Lieutenant, take your contingent back to Lipfar.”
“Yes, sir. Sir, finding the bodies may not be possible. The scouts reported a pack of wild dogs in the area. They may well beat us to the bodies.”
“A curse on this land. We must have the evidence of our success or there will be no reward.”
“Reward? We’ll march double quick.” Footsteps retreated.
“It was wise of them to jump.” The commander’s laugh sent shivers down her back. “His Supreme and Revered Eminence has planned great retribution for the trouble they caused.”
“Yes, sir." The guard cleared his throat. "Sir, what of the dog?”
“Dog?”
“The reports said they traveled with a great overgrown mutt.”
“Who knows…or cares. We return to Lipfar. My informant says Watcher Reg will not last beyond tomorrow. We must be ready to consolidate our position.”
Father still clung to life. Still hope. But it danced just out of reach to mock her. Like the water Thorn had taunted her with. Hope that was no hope at all.
✽✽✽
Cierra waited long after the quiet returned. And then she waited some more. Impatience could easily lead to her capture. Finally she peered out between the branches. When nothing stirred, she pushed the bush aside and signaled Castoff. He lifted his nose into the wind and whined. Not the sound of warning.
She crawled out and tried to stand—her legs, deadened by the time spent in hiding, would not hold her and she clutched her staff with both hands. The sun was directly overhead. She needed to find a safe place to wait until dark.
Vigorous rubbing and pounding returned painful sensation to her limbs. At first she could only manage tiny steps like a toddler, but as she persisted her movements quickened.
The need to get off the cliff trail pulsed in her—she felt as exposed as a fly on a white wall.
A chill wind pushed from behind and overhead black clouds gathered. This was not a good plac
e to be caught in a storm. She forced herself to move faster. Up ahead she saw the trail to Lipfar. The varied greens of forest and grass promised a haven from the wind.
Raindrops plopped on her head, splattered on her tunic, and made mud puddles at her feet. She needed shelter now. Off to her side she spotted a familiar tree with drooping fronds like a giant green haystack. After the supernatural storm, Kyam had found one of those.
‘Welcome to Lyndorf Inn, my Lady.’ How Kyam’s cheeky grin poking out between the fronds had irritated her that day. How incredibly foolish she had been.
Blinking away the memory, she headed for the shelter of another Lyndorf —this time without her merry innkeeper to see to her comfort.
Once under the sheltering branches, Castoff lay beside her—head on paws, eyes grieving.
What was the purpose of reaching the city now? Lipfar was surrounded. His Eminence had hundreds of henchmen searching for her. It was ludicrous to try. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth. The tears flowed. Hopeless. Useless.
She fell asleep pillowed on Castoff’s side.
And woke when he nudged her with a wet nose. “Leave me alone.”
Next he tugged on her tunic hard enough to roll her over. She tried to push him away. “Stop it.” When he persisted she rained flailing hands on his head and chest. “There’s no reason to get up.”
“You will dishonor his sacrifice? Make his death of no value?”
She groaned. Then stilled, tilted her head to peer at Castoff out of one eye. “Did you just speak? No, of course not. My mind has unraveled.” She licked dry lips.
Castoff snorted, “Why must you always accuse your imagination of excess when it is usually too small? How else are you to comprehend The Masters and Their work? Surely you do not expect your mind to accommodate such great ideas.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “You do speak. Wait until Kyam hears...” A wounded cry usurped the rest of her thought. “He’s gone. Why did you wait until he was gone? He so looked forward to this day.” The wound of loss was raw and bleeding once more.