Tag: fantasy adventure

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30-Ironsides

 

My brothers and I followed Ironsides into the dim of the house, Vaudrin and Quill entered behind us. Sunshine from a window above our heads provided ample light for the entryway and central hallway of the manor. I looked around. The lower half of the walls was bare stone, the upper was coated in plaster. The entryway was wide, and there were two doors leading into rooms on either side. Iron Sides ignored these and led us down the hallway until it reached the great room. This room was lit by four windows at the moment, but there were also lamps hanging from the ceiling and a generous gray stone fireplace. An assortment of chairs draped in blankets and furs were grouped around the fireplace. In the middle of the room was the dinner table. It was at least twelve feet long and made of thick slabs of knobby olive wood which had been sanded until it was as smooth as glass. Two benches ran down either side and two large chairs sat on one end. Six hunting hounds were sprawled under the table, they leapt up and ran to greet us when we entered.

“Please, sit.” Ironsides gestured to the table. “I will call for food.” He left us to the wriggling of the hounds and went out a door at the back of the room.

Quill bowed slightly, “Take your rightful places, my lords, my lady.”

Namal and Ayglos bowed in return and walked to the table. There was more than one acceptable way to arrange seating, and normally such things would be determined in part by the nature of the visit and relationship with the host. Namal chose to sit on the right bench, and indicated that Ayglos sit on his right. I sat to Ayglos’s right, and Quill and Vaudrin sat across from Ayglos and I, respectively, leaving the seat across from Namal empty. Perhaps for Ironside’s lady, or if he had a chief warrior or advisor he would want in attendance.

Ayglos leaned in, “Does Iron Sides have a proper name?”

Quill and Vaudrin hesitated.

“Ironsides is his name,” said Vaudrin.

“I think the family name is Bairdwynder,” offered Quill with a shrug.

Iron Sides re-entered the room and to our surprise took the seat across from Namal rather than the seat at the head of the table. “Food is on its way,” he announced cheerfully. “Your people have been arrayed in the day laborer’s hall and will also taste my cook’s wizardly food. She is a miracle worker in this times when spices are hard to come by. Now, I have only one question for you: Are these women with you by their own will?” He leveled a stern glare around the table, but especially at Quill and Vaudrin.

“Yes. We rescued them from the garrison at”—Quill began.

“Stop,” Ironsides held up his hand, “That will suffice. I haven’t decided yet if I want to know what Dalyn’s royal guards are doing this far afield.” He pointed at me and my brothers, “Or who they are.”

“Fair enough,” Quill leaned back. “May we spend the night here? We have traveled hard these past several days. Even your barn would be a welcome refuge.”

“That, I can provide,” replied Ironsides, shedding his stern looks and allowing a smile. “Some of you can even have beds—though I can’t sleep forty in the house! And I am still well situated so I can bolster your provisions a bit for wherever you’re headed.”

“We would be grateful,” put in Namal. “Our path has taken unexpected turns, and we did not prepare for so many mouths to feed.”

“Sounds like a marriage,” laughed Ironsides.

Before anyone could react to Ironsides’s joke, the door to the kitchen opened and a pair of maidservants came in carrying platters of food –two each—and two boys around the age of ten scuttled in behind them carrying plates and silverware. Immediately the delightful smell of roast lamb and garlic filled the room. My mouth started to water and I breathed deeply, it had been a lifetime since I’d had roast lamb. The maidservants skillfully placed the platters in the center of the table and the boys breathlessly plunked the plates and silverware in front of each of us.

As the boys turned to scurry away Ironsides reached out and caught the boys by their britches and tugged them back to him. The boys dissolved into giggles as Ironsides’ arms closed around them. “Friends, these are my sons: Alam and Wyck.” The lads squirmed, laughed, then straightened and stared at us with bright eyed curiosity. “They were supposed to stay in the kitchen, little rascals.” He growled gently at them, and they giggled.

“We were helping!” announced the taller one.

“We’re sorry, sir, we told them to stay behind,” one of the maidservants paused close to Ironsides and scowled at the boys.

“I thought as much,” Ironsides turned the boys around to face him, “There now, you’ve seen the strangers, head back to the kitchen and eat your supper.”

The boys had evidently been hoping for a different verdict and their shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir,” they replied. Their unison that much more impressive considering their gloomy tone.

The boys both kissed their father on the cheek before heading back to the kitchen, this time the maids shooed them along before them. I caught snatches of soft scolding as they exited and the door closed behind them. I looked after them wistfully. Ayglos and I had once haunted the kitchens of Galhara. Cooks are very good friends to have–although they will make you earn your handouts. Or at least ours did. There were times when all four of us would loiter in the kitchens and she would task us with preparing herbs–we would race to see who could strip the most rosemary or lavender.

Ironsides’ voice brought me back to the present. “My apologies,” he said, a smile lingering on his face. “I had thought it would be better to keep my lads out from underfoot—considering the times and not knowing what errand you’ve been about. They are good boys, but like all children have a nose for secrets.”

“Sadly a wise choice, I’m afraid,” replied Namal.

“Say no more,” grunted Ironsides, “Let us eat and be grateful for peace tonight.”

I was certainly grateful—the roasted lamb was as perfect as it smelled; moist and laced with garlic. There was also a spinach pastry drowned in butter, and flat bread with tomatoes, hummus and a bowl of pesto. I ate as if I’d never had food before—and I ate too much. No one talked much during dinner. Ironsides occasionally commented about farming or the weather, but most of us were happy enough to commune with the food. After we finished, the maids came back in and Ironsides asked them to show us to rooms, since we were clearly tired.

My limbs were heavy and I felt like a round decanter brimming dangerously full as I followed one of the maids down a hallway and into a modest little room with a bed. She showed me also where the wash house was, and where the lamps were. I thanked her through my food-stupor, and as soon as she left I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the bed, and burrowed under the blankets. I was awake just long enough to coo over the touch of a real mattress and then I slept without dreams.

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29-A very long walk

When I woke up it was dark and I felt a bit better, though my limbs were sore in places from all the swimming. I found Quill and made him change places with me—it was his turn to look weary and not argue. Over the next few days we stopped only for short rests, eating handfuls of road food and passing around water skins while we walked. We had to outdistance any hunt from Gillenwater, and we still hoped to rescue my family. Quill assured us we would find refuge and help in Dalyn, so we set as blistering a pace as we could manage. I wondered, too, if perhaps our family had been sent to Dalyn to take the river to Hirhel instead of going overland.

Though Dalyn had been conquered five years ago, her puppet king was of the rightful line and clearly the city’s spirit was not broken. What with her royal guard marauding around area cities to harass the Nether Queen and all. As with the Nether Queen’s other conquests, the toppling of Dalyn was shrouded in rumor and wild stories. I quickly learned that one contributing factor to the rumors was that none of Quill’s men—who had all lived through the conquest as children—were willing to talk about it. The first day or two, if one of the men wandered close I would ask him what happened and generally their reply was, “Dalyn fell,” spoken with finality as if there were no other variables.

Not that there was much talking of any sort on this march.

Night and day traded places again and again, and still we walked or jogged south and west. Five to ten of Quill’s men were always scouting ahead or to the sides—steering us around hamlets, homes, and other travelers. Quill mostly rode Hook, but still walked for ever lengthening periods to stretch his legs. Having no other duties, I usually walked between the horses.

Our scouts did see hunting parties from Gillenwater’s garrison a few times, and worked hard to lay down misleading trails to confuse the trackers. It appeared to work, because none found us.

The women, even the girls from Gillenwater who were not accustomed to life on the road, were all in good spirits. A few were suffering from colds, but on the whole they were doing very well and keeping up with the soldiers. Sinker was indispensable—providing a mobile resting place for them. Gabe and Balleck, too, were quite busy helping any way they could. I wanted to talk with my circus people—particularly Olena, but there wasn’t really time. What talk was had was between her and Ayglos, for he stayed close to her.

On the fifth day we came to the orderly lanes of an orange orchard. One of the scouts came trotting back to find Quill.  The scout fell in step beside Hook and I sidled close to hear what he said. “Iron Sides says it is safe to come ahead.”

“Excellent. We shall have a warm supper tonight.”

The scout grinned and moved off again.

Quill looked down at me, “Iron Sides was once in the royal guard, now he lives here.” Quill gestured to the orange grove. “This estate belonged to his father, but when Dalyn fell it passed to him.”

“Was his father in the army?” I asked quietly.

Quill looked grim. “Not exactly. He was a priest and a seer, and the Nether Queen had him executed.”

“What?” I had not known that she executed priests—and no one executed seers. “Did she kill all the priests in Dalyn?”

“No,” Quill shook his head. “Just the one who was a seer.”

“Perhaps he foresaw her doom,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.

“Undoubtedly,” came Quill’s dark reply.

We fell silent and continued along the lanes of the orchard. Soon we started to catch glimpses of laborers and whiffs of cooking fires. Namal joined us and Quill explained about our plans to spend the night with Iron Sides. The peaks of a manor house appeared over the orchard trees, and then the lanes came to an end at a packed dirt yard before the house itself. A well-built man with chin length honey colored hair stood in the doorway to the house with his feet spread and his arms crossed. I guessed he was from Remko’s generation, and I liked him immediately because of the association. He watched the company spill out of the orchard and pool in his yard like an overflown spring, and then he smiled. The look so transformed his face I felt like I was looking at a different man. He stepped forward.

“Quilleran! How you’ve grown!”

“Iron Sides! Yet only one foot in the grave?” asked Quill, dismounting and moving forward to greet Iron Sides with manly back slapping.

“Just a toe,” replied Iron Sides with a grin before turning to Vaudrin. “Vaudrin Lakeside? The guard suits you, too.”  Iron Sides was the same height as Vaudrin, but his build was tighter knit and it gave the odd impression that he was a small man. Small and dangerous, like a crossbow quarrel, I thought. “Your men and women we can feed in day laborer’s hall,” Iron Sides was saying, “we’ve been preparing for them since your scouts told us of your approach.”

“Thank you,” said Quill, “And we have three for your hearth, also.” Quill gestured to my brothers and I. “They are allies.”

Iron Sides turned to us. “Come in, and welcome to my home,” he bowed and gestured for us to follow him inside.

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28-Underway Again

With a deep breath I began to sum up the exploration of the garrison. Telling the story made me feel like my actions were very reckless. I winced as I related my impulsive strike on the men in the girl’s room, and made sure to prominently mention Olena’s news that our family had already been moved. They already knew about the harrowing escape through the tunnel so I didn’t dwell there. My brothers could well remember the unpleasantness of such a project, and the others would never know anyway. I tried to gloss over the skirmish with the patrolmen at the river, and summed up as quickly as I could our getting over the wall and crawling to the woods. I was relieved when Jemin stepped in again to relate his side.

Jemin explained his diversion, that he had gone to the main road and—using those sad remaining sheaves of wheat—lit a fire in the street roughly the shape of a prancing horse, the old seal of Gillenwater.

Quill and Vaudrin were both nodding. “It is too early to involve Dalyn publicly, and under the circumstances implying Galhara’s involvement would be unwise also,” commented Vaudrin.

“Does anyone in Gillenwater actually oppose the Nether Queen?” I asked.

“None love her, but few would have the courage to stand up to her without some great aid,” replied Jemin. “Perhaps the burning horse will give them courage.”

“Perhaps,” said Quill, “But we should move on from this place immediately. If the garrison searches the countryside, we need to be farther than half a day’s walk.”

I felt despair rising in me as I realized there would be no rest. “But we have walked all night, I don’t think the women can keep going like this.” I couldn’t go on like this.

“They have to,” said Namal, looking at me compassionately, “But they can take turns riding Sinker—he can likely carry three at a time.”

A sigh escaped the depths of my being. “Very well. But I would like to change my clothes.” I picked up the hem of my very humble homespun, which was looking even worse after the night of abuse I had given it.

“It will take a little while to get ready to leave, so you have time to freshen up,” Quill looked to Vaudrin. “Have the men get ready, we leave within the hour.”

Vaudrin rose and immediately set about the business of recalling their scouts and sentries.

“Come on, Zare,” Ayglos stood and offered me his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I took the hand up gratefully, and Ayglos led me over to where our packs sat in a tidy pile at the base of a tree. He located mine and handed it to me. I deposited my crossbow and daggers on the ground to take the pack. I rummaged for a clean tunic, trousers, and a linen wash cloth, then ducked behind a larger tree to shed my filthy clothes and shoes. I scrubbed myself quickly, then with a shiver slipped into the dry clothes. I had forgotten what dry clothes felt like—and just how much warmer they were than damp! There was no help for the shoes, and damp shoes were better than nothing. Wadding up my rags I came back around the tree. Ayglos was waiting.

“At our next stop I want to burn these,” I held up my bundle. “They are not worth—nor likely to survive—the effort to scrub the blood out.” I stuffed my distasteful wad in the pack. I wished I could leave it under the tree, but if it was found then the Nether Queen’s soldiers would know they were headed in the right direction.

“How are you?” Ayglos asked, searching my face with his green-flecked eyes.

I shrugged. “Exhausted.” I picked up the leather belt and sheathed daggers and strapped them back around my waist. “And I already feel naked without these.”

“You’re not wounded?” he prodded, pulling out one of our cloaks and draping it around my shoulders. “Or otherwise scarred?”

“Not wounded. If you mean mentally scarred…I don’t know yet.” I sat down and pulled my knees up. “I think I’m fine, but I’m too tired to know for sure. I don’t think I killed them all—there are a couple that I just knocked out. Is that bad? Should I have killed them?”

My brother looked at me, tenderness radiated from him like heat from a hearth fire—a welcome refuge after being out in a storm. “Not necessarily—even if they recognized you, they might not want to own up to being so thoroughly trounced by a seventeen-year-old girl.”

I smirked. “Some girls my age are already ruling kingdoms or raising children, it’s not such an insult.” Though, not many girls my age were running around with knives and swords.

Ayglos smiled, then said, “I guess we always forget that you lived through the siege, too.”

I cocked an eye at him. “And that I fought by your side.”

“Yes, and that you fought by my side.”

“And survived just fine,” I added, “Valiantly. Better than you, even.”

Ayglos prodded me with his foot. “Don’t push it.”

I grinned and closed my eyes. “I wished for you often, never fear.”

Ayglos laughed.

He had beaten me in every single duel we had ever fought. Usually I pretended that wasn’t the case because it was more fun that way. “Wake me up when we’re leaving,” I said.

“Of course.” I heard him walking away as I gave myself to the dark of my eyelids

When Ayglos shook my shoulder I swore that no time had passed—and I was nearly right. It had only taken Quill’s men a half an hour to get ready. Even with finding cloaks for all the girls. It appeared that they simply existed in a state of being able to pick up and run at a moment’s notice. My horses, Sinker and Hook, were standing in the center of the glen, and Gabe was boosting women onto Sinker’s back. I smiled at the women but went straight to the horses and let them sniff my hands. They remembered me. They’d better. I scratched Hook’s neck, and he relaxed into my touch just as much as I into his.

Quill approached. “You should ride, my lady,” he said.

“I still have legs,” I countered, “You’re the one who needs to ride.”

“I will, later,” He stopped next to me. “Jemin and the red-head—Olena?—told me of your deeds. You have earned a ride.”

I was puzzled. “Didn’t I tell you my deeds?”

Quill smiled and arched his eyebrow, my heart flopped. “An abbreviated version, yes. Jemin expounded on your inventiveness, and Olena on your prowess—taking on three men with naught but your daggers and a broken bottle after swimming for two hours with barely a break.”

“Olena killed one of them,” I corrected.

“And playing a ghost to haunt the men on the wall,” his smile broadened to a grin. “I wish I could have seen it. Jemin said you gave him a bit of a turn himself.”

I looked down, then at Hook’s ears. My cheeks were warm from Quill’s praise and I didn’t know what to say. Princesses should know what to say, but my ingenuity was apparently spent for the time being.

“Did you know that this week should have been the Feast of Maten?”

“Maten?” I furrowed my brow. I had forgotten about that feast. The mountain cities observed this feast, it had to do with the man and woman—Maten and Nelia?—who lead the mountain cities to victory against a warlock. “Maten died,” I said slowly, “because he took the warlock personally to the gates of hell…and then didn’t make it back?”

“And after helping the cities rebuild, she disappeared. They say she left to find him, that she roams the earth to this day looking for him.” Quill’s eyes were sparkling. “She had dark hair like you, as the story goes.”

My ears couldn’t get redder as I discovered that the feeling of accidently achieving something incredible felt awfully similar to nearly falling off a cliff. I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that.”

“Jemin also told me that you overrode him and kept him from sacrificing himself to cover your escape. I am grateful to you for preserving one of my best men. There aren’t many your age—man or woman—who would have performed so well. Were you not born with rank, I would gladly give you one,” Quill bowed at the waist, “Rest a little, and later I will ride. It’s not a short journey to Dalyn; you’ll get your chance to walk.”

If he was going to insist, I wasn’t going to argue. My spirits bolstered, I mustered enough energy to jump on Hook’s back—rather less gracefully than usual—and once we were underway I nodded off to the rhythm of his walk. Maybe Eloi hadn’t forgotten us.

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27-Small Victories

 

What remained of the night passed in a blur of olive and pine trees. I mostly remember the scent of the earth, and those horrible little vines which trail along the ground solely to trip unsuspecting travelers. I gave away my curtain to one of the smaller girls for whatever warmth it could offer. I remembered no color, and only a vague surprise when I realized I could see the trees I touched. The world crept into gray, then eventually grew brave and donned green, then all at once the sun covered the forest in brazen gold.

Even though I felt dead, I lifted my face to the sun’s touch and let myself smile a little. We’d been out of the city for hours and were still alive, and still free. I looked at the women, nine were my circus girls, three I didn’t know before last night. My girls were dirty, pale, one or two were sniffling after a cold night in damp clothes, but their eyes were bright with freedom.

“I have never been so glad to see the sun,” whispered Olena, pausing to look around. Her eyes fell on me and she reached for my hand. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand and said nothing. It was a miracle, I noted, that we’d gotten this far. I wasn’t about to take credit for that. We walked all morning without a rest. I think Jemin was afraid that if we stopped at all we would never start again. So while our pace dwindled and hunger began to rear its head, we kept on. It’s not as if we had any food anyway. I remembered mournfully the supplies we’d left at the little inn in Gillenwater…and my donkey! When I remembered Line I spun as if to go back for him before realizing it was impossible. I hoped the tavern keeper would be good to him.

Our pace was such that it was afternoon when we reached the dancing little stream that would lead us to the camp. We all knelt gratefully on the stream’s banks and drank our fill.

Jemin made us cross over to the other side before following it south. “In case they bring out their hunting hounds,” he explained.

I didn’t think they would if they hadn’t yet, but one never knew. We’d only been walking an hour or so more when one of Quill’s scouts hailed us. Another twenty minutes and we walked into the little camp by the gorge. The score of men loitering around the glen leapt to their feet at our approach. Everyone looked stunned.

The awkward silence was broken by Gabe—the circus strongman—who pushed several men out of his way and ran across the stream crying, “Adva! Adva!”

One of the acrobats threw out her arms and ran to meet him. “Gabreal!” When they met, Gabe scooped the slight acrobat into his arms and collapsed to his knees weeping. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried, too.

Then suddenly my brothers and Balleck were splashing across the stream and I realized that I was still at the back of the group and Olena was with me.

Jemin realized it, too, and quickly held up his hands, “Lady Zare is here!”

I grabbed Olena’s arm and pulled her forward. The others made way and we met our kin next to Jemin in a gasping mess of suffocating embraces—family first, then friends. My brothers and Balleck, who had obviously been worried, were now alarmed that they had not been worried enough, but were giddy that we’d turned up anyway. In all the excitement even Balleck gave me a fierce embrace, and I was pretty sure that Ayglos kissed Olena. For several minutes there was nothing but hugs and exclamations as they greeted all the circus women—and even the girls they didn’t know—with warmth and rejoicing. Returning to Olena and I, they fell upon us again.

“Zare—what has happened?” demanded Ayglos, after my bothers had crushed me with a second round of affection. “Your clothes are damp—is that blood on them? Are you alright? How did you get the women back? And where are our parents and Nadine?”

I swallowed. “They were already gone.” I felt so very many things, but at this moment I felt more like crying than anything else. “May we have food and sit down?” I asked weakly.

This set off another flurry of activity as the rebel soldiers hurried to help the women across the water, make places for them to sit, and bring out cheese, dates and bread for us to eat. Namal guided me over to a spot near a large rock where I saw Quill standing squarely, his arms crossed. I sat down on the ground without waiting for a bedroll and curled my fingers into the scrubby grass. Sitting down: The only thing better would be laying down.

Namal sat down beside me.

“Welcome back, my lady,” said Quill, lowering himself to the ground.

“Thank you.” I watched him—he was favoring his wounded leg but making a real effort to use it. My eyes narrowed. “No one changed your bandage while I was gone.”

“And yet I still live,” returned Quill. “It appears that you had an eventful scouting mission.”

I nodded, I felt like a pound of sand was in my eyes. “I lost my donkey.”

Namal looked at me incredulously.

Quill’s face twisted as he tried to stifle a laugh.  “For a start, anyway,” coughed Quill as Ayglos, Jemin and Vaudrin joined us.

I felt a smile tug at my lips.

Jemin handed me food and I fell upon it without mercy. The others waited patiently as Jemin and I ate, and when we were done Namal said, “Report.”

I arched a brow at him, but Jemin began to relate the whole story—starting with our arrival in the city, the opinions of the people, and the plans we made to find out the lay of the garrison.

When he got to the water tunnel everyone looked sharply at me—but for different reasons. Quill and Vaudrin, at least, looked at my brothers also, with the revelation that they were also half-blooded. My brothers’ eyes bored into me and I could already guess their reproaches. Yet with our mother a prisoner, secrecy about our blood was almost certainly pointless. I returned their looks tartly, and then gave my attention to Jemin just in time to hear him say, “When Lady Zare returned she brought one of the kidnapped women back with her through the tunnel, and then spent the next two hours extracting all the others. I have not heard her portion of the tale.”

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26-Escape

 

I was not as good with the ropes as the other circus performers—by a long shot—but I managed to make it down without destroying my hands or falling. The scrubby grass at the base of the wall had never been so blessed.

I stepped back from the rope and waited for Jemin to descend. He was better on the rope than I was, and I was thoroughly impressed as the burly man descended with grace. When his feet touched the ground he turned and surveyed our surroundings grimly. I turned, too. An open space fell away from the walls for about a hundred feet—give or take—then a bramble of forest started. If we were further south, by the main gate, we’d see a road leading to the red-fenced festival grounds where the circus had camped not so long ago. By now it had to be three or four hours after midnight, the moon was low and shadows were long. Even in darkness, the open space could easily undo us. I turned my head to look back: The women lined the wall like a relief sculpture. A soulful portrayal of determination and desperate times.

Jemin touched my shoulder, “Listen carefully, lead them north a little ways. When I have set fire to the rope, wait for the alarm on the walls, then cross the open space.  Once you are in the woods follow the moon due west, while you have it, anyway. You will eventually come to the stream, or to our patrols, and from there find the others.”

I stared at him for a moment, not understanding. Then anger burned through me; he intended to stay behind as a distraction. “No.” I struggled to keep my voice low. “Where will you go? If they catch you, they may torture you and find out about the rebellion!”

Jemin pushed something into my arms, I looked down and it was one of the sideways bows I’d seen on the bridge the night I rescued Quill. “Have you ever used a crossbow?” he asked.

“No.” It was heavier than I expected. I ran my hand over the smooth wood and metal. A leather carrying strap dangled from either end.

“Here is the trigger,” he guided my fingers gently—taking care that the crossbow was pointed at the ground. “And here are quarrels.” He handed me a hefty pouch.

“Jemin,” I grabbed his arm with my other hand, “Please—we can just crawl across the grass. We don’t have to raise an alarm at all. They don’t know we went this way. It’s dark and getting darker.”

Jemin shook his head skeptically.

I lifted my chin. “We crawl,” I said with finality. He was the experienced soldier, but I was a princess, and I gave him a look that invited no argument. “You can go last if you wish, and if they raise a cry, then you can set as many fires as you like to turn them off our trail.”

Now it was Jemin’s turn to stare at me a moment before understanding. Astonishment, irritation, and then resignation paraded across his face like the ornamental fish in my grandfather’s water gardens. “Very well, my lady.”

The plan was passed down the line of women, and I led the way again. I strapped the crossbow to my back and tied the quarrels to my belt. My curtain I draped over the crossbow. Getting down on my belly I began to crawl away from the wall on my elbows and knees. I daren’t look back and show the whites of my eyes to the wall, I had to assume the others followed. The quiet of the grassy space was both comforting and discomforting in that way. I set a languid, irregular pace. For one thing, I was exhausted and it was a relief to slow down. For another, I hoped if we moved slowly enough no one on the wall would notice human lumps in the grass. Though, with reduced speed came increased cold. I rolled my lips together and tried to focus on the touch of the scratchy short grass and the scent of dirt rather than the bite of the air on my damp skin. One hundred feet takes an eternity to crawl, and some part of my mind suggested perhaps we could just sleep in the grass and escape later. I reached the edge of the forest and had to finagle a bit to get through the scrub without rattling hundreds of dry branches. But suddenly there was a little screen between me and the watchful wall and I scrambled to my feet taking deep breaths of the woody air.

I had about three breaths before the first of the girls wriggled through the bracken, and at the same time I heard shouting on the wall.

The girl gasped and wriggled faster, popping up next to me, her eyes wide with fear. I slung the crossbow around and pointed it at the wall—uncertain of the weapon’s range or my purpose. Another girl cleared the bracken and joined the first.

“Don’t rush!” I heard Jemin’s voice wisp up from the open space as another girl reached the shrubs.

The hustle on the wall got louder, I noticed torches springing to life and men converging on the guardhouse we’d left. I couldn’t tell if they had found the rope yet, or had jumped to the right conclusion about its use. Though, they couldn’t possibly miss the rope for long. The alarm spread along the wall, jumping from one torch to the next till a ring of fire stretched as far as I could see in either direction. Vaguely I heard Jemin’s soothing tones again urging the creepers to stay slow as they slithered into the cover of the wood. At the last, Jemin dragged his bulk through the bushes—with some delicate maneuvering and assistance from the girls who held branches out of his way.

“Where are the others?” asked Olena beside me.

“Are we missing someone?” I looked around, trying to count.

“No—the other rescuers.”

“Oh,” my cheeks heated, “The others are half a day’s walk.”

“And we need to get going,” Jemin broke in, “now.” He turned and started west into the darkness of the forest. I gestured for the girls to follow him—quickly before he disappeared from view.  I waited to bring up the rear, and Olena lingered with me.

“You came alone?” she asked again. “Is Ayglos alright?”

“He is,” I promised, but I could feel the skepticism radiating from Olena, even though I couldn’t see her face. “We weren’t expecting to be able to rescue you tonight,” I confessed, “Otherwise Ayglos and Namal would certainly have come with us.” Weren’t intending to rescue tonight, more accurately, but so say it that way made me sound so impetuous and possibly unfeeling. Feelings, though, are what got us here.

“I’m glad you did,” replied Olena.

I nodded, wrapping my ams around myself for warmth. “Me, too.” Then Olena and I walked as close as we could manage while dodging trees and brambles. Jemin set a steady, fast walk, and I could feel warmth starting to grow again in my core. The night sounds of the forest swallowed our movement and my mind started to slow down. My consuming occupation became staying upright and not walking into anything.

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25-Ghosts

Movement caught my eye and I spun. To my right, a ragged curtain fluttered from the second story of a rundown building. The curtain looked pale and mournful, a ghost of how things used to be in Gillenwater. A ghost. I paused and looked down at my homespun. Then I ran across the street to the building and began climbing its dilapidated side. When I reached the curtain I tangled my fingers in its shreds and tugged until it came loose with a dull crack. I slung the rags over my shoulder and climbed back down to the street. I took off toward the wall at a quick jog; I didn’t dare look back to see if anyone appeared at the window I’d defrocked. When I reached the end of the street I stopped. There wasn’t much to the curtain, but what there was I spread across my shoulders so it hung from my arms like robes.

Drawing a deep breath I drew myself up and stepped out into the lane between the houses and the city wall. All the dance lessons from my childhood and the days and days of practice with the circus served me now. I moved as lightly as laundry turning in the wind. My arms rose and floated out by my sides as if on their own, and I glided smoothly across the ground. It was easy enough to imagine myself a heartbroken ghost haunting the wall, and to make my expression one of vague sadness—I just had to remember how cold I was and how much further we had to go. Also that I had to keep the men on the wall from noticing thirteen people climb the stairs.

Suddenly afraid that no one on the wall would notice me, I let out a long moan—loudly.

I felt ridiculous.

An excruciatingly long moment passed and I hazarded turning my face toward the city wall.  To my relief my gaze met one of the inward-facing soldier’s. I didn’t flinch, but gave him a deep mournful look and slowed my floating walk.

He tapped the soldier nearest him and that soldier turned around to stare also. I slipped to a stop and faced the city wall and swayed in the night breeze as I imagined a ghost might. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another man turned around, then another.

I was also vaguely aware of Jemin at the edge of my periphery. He gained the top of the wall and choke the first soldier he reached. My heart quickened.  I wanted to watch Jemin but daren’t. Focusing on the soldiers before me, I raised one hand and moaned imploringly. The men on the wall looked thoroughly unsettled. I raised my other hand and moaned again.

I caught a glimpse of the girls darting to the stairs. This was the hardest part—and how was I supposed to get over? I grimaced inwardly; my father was right about my ability to get into trouble.

I lowered my hand to my side in a slow fluid movement—as if my arm were made of paper and drifting down as fast as it could go. Most of the men on this stretch of wall were watching me now. I moved back a step, and searched the faces of the soldiers as if despairing of help. They stared back at me, some looked nervous, some frightened, and one or two looked sad.

I was pretty sure the girls were up the stairs and hiding in the shadow thrown by the guard house.

I took another floating step backwards. Then, since I couldn’t afford to back into a wall and betray my solidity, I pivoted until I was pointed at an alley and started gliding down it. I kept up the drifting movement until I reached a cross street and could duck out of sight. Once around the corner I jerked off the ragged curtain and rolled it up. Tucking it under my arm I ran down the street and turned down the next alley toward the wall.

Some of the soldiers were staring searchingly at the alley I had disappeared down—others were talking amongst themselves. I darted across the open space and made the stairs without attracting attention. When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that the guard at the top leaned awkwardly on the guardhouse—unconscious, or dead. I crept past him and found Jemin crouched in the doorway. He gestured for me to enter the guardhouse.

The guardhouse had one torch flickering in a corner—though I saw sconces for more. There was a tall, thin window—probably only two feet across—facing the outside and Olena stood by it with six of our rescued women. This explained where Jemin had managed to hide so many people. I hadn’t thought of hiding inside the guardhouse. Jemin followed me inside and took up a position next to the doorway, ready to pounce on any soldier who happened by.

One end of Jemin’s stolen rope was tied to an empty sconce and the other disappeared out the window. I noticed three more inert soldiers in the corner. Olena gave me a grim smile as one of the other girls got started climbing down the rope. I felt a horrible weight in my stomach. So many to go—I had cut my ghost act too quickly. The first girl disappeared from view and immediately another hopped up on the ledge. She grabbed the rope ably and spun lightly into the darkness beyond. As soon as she was gone from view another took her place. Acrobats. The number of women in the guardhouse dwindled quickly as the circus performers took on something they knew how to handle—rope and heights.

Olena looked at me. “I sent the girls from town among the first—since they would need the most time.”

I smiled, a real smile, “Good thinking.”

When it was down to just Olena and I, Jemin stepped back from the entryway. Olena hopped up on the sill, grasped the rope and started a skilled descent. I stuffed my curtain down my tunic and jumped up behind her. I waited till Olena was halfway down, and then swung myself off the sill into the darkness.

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24-The Wall

24-The Wall

 

As we gathered on the stone bank of the Tryber a horn started sounding deeper in the city. Its voice mingled with the garrison drums like a wolf’s howl with a stampede. There was no time to waste. I counted my women quickly, and located the two swimmers. “It’s time, into the river.”

They obediently sat down on the bank, then scooted into the water. I passed them the lantern pole and turned to Olena, “Help get everyone in, and get a firm grip on that pole—I’ll keep an eye out for Jemin.”

Olena nodded, looking relieved to have something to do, and turned to help organize the other girls into the water. They shivered but didn’t complain as they re-entered the Tryber. Their hands were pale against the stone banks as they kept one hand on the shore and strung the lantern pole between them with the other. They reminded me of the picket line of circus animals when we made camp. The girls on the other side of the pole were a little too far to grasp the bank, the swimmers took that side and showed the others how to tread water.

I kept watch. Shortly, I saw Jemin’s bulk slip into the open and head toward us. A thick coil of rope was draped across his chest. He eyed the fallen patrolmen as he crossed the open space and stopped to pick up one of the swords before joining me where I stood above the others. “Keeping a low profile, I see,” he commented as he arrived. “Is everyone alright?”

I grimaced. “Trouble finds me,” I spread my hands, “We’re unharmed. How’d your project go?”

Jemin gave me a grimace of his own. “Well, you heard the horn. I set a fire, so I think they’re sufficiently distracted for the time being. I stole this rope from a shop I passed on the way. We’ll need it to get over the wall. Are we ready?”

“Yes, and I got us a tow line of sorts, so we should be able to do this crossing in one trip.” I motioned for him to go to the back of the line of bobbing heads. He did, and lowered himself into the river with surprising grace. I took my place at the front of the lantern pole. Twelve people—well, fourteen—crowded close around a seven-foot pole, was not the most hydrodynamic raft in the world.  But the Tryber felt warm to me, compared with the night, and I was sure I felt the river quiver with excitement as I shoved off the wall. With the help of the three other swimmers we began the slow crossing of the wide, dirty, lazy water. I wished we could just take the kindly river all the way out of the city—but that gate was also shut and guarded after the fire at the forges. Jemin and I were going to be hard pressed to get us out the way we were going, there was no way we’d survive an attempt of either the land or water gates.

We reached the western side of the river without incident. I lingered in the comfort of the water while Jemin climbed out and helped all twelve women out into the chill night. I wondered darkly if any of them would fall horribly ill from this rescue. We had to succeed. So at least if they fell sick they would be free and sick rather than dying in an uncaring cell. When everyone was out I reluctantly left the Tryber, giving the grimy river an affectionate farewell. I had never thought, when I had jumped in to rescue Quill, that I would ever willingly enter this river again much less be sad to leave it.

This side of the river was mostly residential, and mostly poor. Jemin led the way now, and I brought up the rear. He set an even, brisk pace—it would hardly be taxing if I hadn’t been swimming for two hours and then fighting. Jemin made only cursory checks for patrols at cross streets, so we made good time through the deserted streets. I wondered if any of the Gillenfolk peeked out of their houses and saw us, probably speculating what all the din at the garrison was about, and how it would affect them. It was hardly cheerful thought, but it kept my mind off the burning in my lungs, the cold on my limbs and the weariness making my body leaden. Finally, we saw the city wall rising before us and we stopped with a row of houses between us and the wall. Jemin motioned for me to follow him and we slunk the rest of the way, arriving in the shadow of a dilapidated old building right next to the wall.

Like most of the Bay Cities, Gillenwater had been a prosperous city state, and had a great wall encircling it. The wall was thick enough for three horses to ride abreast on the top, and it had guard houses built in so the wall guards didn’t even retire to the garrison for their rest. Happily, city walls are built to keep people out, not in. From our hiding place, I could see a set of stairs going up the wall. I could also see guards at the top—some facing in, thanks to the drums. I rolled my lips together. I was starting to get used to this battle thing again, but this fight could be my last if we made any mistakes.

“They will be watching the stairs,” said Jemin, softly, “But that spot there, where the guard house jags out, looks climbable. I’ll go up that way. I need you to be a distraction.”

I nodded. “Drunken damsel?” I asked.

A smile showed through Jemin’s dark beard. “Good start—we need to knock heads but not raise an alarm. Go get the girls and make sure they are ready to get up the wall and over as soon as we’ve a window.” He slipped the coil of rope off his shoulder and onto mine.

I went back the way we’d come and found the twelve women waiting in a huddle. I transferred the rope to Olena’s shoulders and reminded them all to take the first chance to get up the stairs. Then I led the way back, this time favoring stealth over speed. I was impressed with how little noise we made when we weren’t rushing—just the faintest scuffs and breaths reached my ears. They gathered in the dark shadow of the crumbling building. Olena and I exchanged a serious look, then I slipped off to make my distraction from a different place. I moved the opposite direction from the guardhouse where Jemin planned to climb up and stewed about how on earth to make a sufficient distraction to turn heads, but not too many heads. We couldn’t afford to put the whole wall on alert.

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23- Shadow and Spark

Thirteen people, for all their efforts, make much more noise than two people when darting from one shadow to the next. If I had had time to fuss over it, I would have. Jemin had given me directions and I led the way quickly through alleys, pausing at the cross streets to look and listen for patrols. It was hard to be sure, with so many people panting behind me, that the coast was ever clear, but we had to keep going. My senses were on edge, and I strove to keep us close to the river as we wove our way through the dark places. At least the running kept us warm, for our wet clothes were useless in the cold night air.

The large homes and walled gardens gave way to narrower roads crowded by hodge-podge buildings with big windows. There were awnings and porches along the bigger roads to hide us now, so we moved more quickly. The shopping district, I guessed, though all the windows were covered with curtains. Just a little further and we’d cut back west–before the burned out forges and the bridge, since that was doubtless guarded.

Then the drums started.

If anyone in the garrison had still been asleep, they weren’t any longer. Doubtless they had figured out we’d left the garrison; it didn’t matter if they had figured out how. I imagined a fast rider was being sent to the city gates this very moment—if one hadn’t gone already. And the drums told the guards on the city walls that something was afoot.  My heart beat faster and I took the next alley that led west toward the river. It was time to get back to the Tryber anyway. The alley was so narrow that if I tucked my hands into my armpits and spread my arms, my elbows would scrape against the buildings.  Trash littered the ground. I stopped at the end of the alley to watch and listen.  The river glittered in the moonlight ahead of us. Between the drums, the gaggle behind me, and the hammering of my own blood, listening for patrols was almost pointless. I forced myself to wait and watch carefully.

I had almost decided to move on when I noticed three men in helmets walked abreast on the little road by the riverbank, their silhouettes clear against the river. A round lantern bobbed along above the middle soldier as if by some dark magic. They were talking. I glanced behind me and gestured for the women to squeeze against the wall and hide as best they could.  One of the girls tripped, and a broken bit of crockery shattered under her foot.

Everyone froze like rabbits. Olena’s eyes met mine from deep in the alley, she gripped the knife I’d given her. I turned back to watch the patrol, fingering the hilt of Azzad. The soldiers had definitely heard the crockery and were moving toward the buildings. Could I take three by myself in the open? These men were wearing armor, unlike the men in the garrison. I wondered when Jemin would return and if they had those little crossbows which had wounded Quill.

Quill. An idea started. I released my daggers and cast about the alley for a bottle of any sort. Finding half a glass bottle, I turned back to the coming patrol.

Two of the soldiers had drawn their weapons—swords, mercifully—and were moving cautiously ahead of the one carrying the lamp. I guessed they weren’t completely sure where the sound had originated. Or perhaps they were thinking of the fight on the bridge just a few days ago. Now that they were closer I could see the poll and chain that held the lamp aloft—not dark magic after all. That was a relief.

With a deep breath I swaggered into the open, holding my broken bottle and mumbling any words that came to mind about “too much wine” and “go home.”

“Halt!” cried the closest soldier.

I recoiled sloppily, “Oh, no!” and covered my mouth with my free hand.

The three soldiers approached, lowering their weapons. “No one is allowed to be out at this hour.”

“Trying to go home,” I slurred, my head down and the broken bottle dangling in my fingers.

One of the soldiers sheathed his sword, stepped close and took my free arm. “You have to come with us.”

Savagely I twisted my hand free and with my other hand propelled the broken bottle full force into his face. He toppled backwards and the other two looked stunned. I made for the lantern—grabbing the pole with both hands I aimed a kick at the man’s knee and twisted the pole away from him. He collapsed with a cry, grasping at his knee.

The last man leapt at me with his sword. I blocked the sword with the lamp pole–the light doused with a slosh of oil—and then hurtled the butt of the pole into the soldier. He stumbled back, bringing his sword up at my side. I slipped to one side to avoid it and smashed the lantern on his shoulder. The oil splattered harmlessly and the soldier attacked again. I blocked, my eyes on the oil. I threw the pole at him and jumped back to draw my daggers. Deflecting the pole he charged after me. My flint hilts smashed together, scattering sparks and turning the soldier’s oil-soaked shoulder into a sheet of fire. He yelped and stumbled back beating the fire with his hand.

I didn’t get to gloat. The wail of a horn started behind me. I spun and saw the lamp-man, sprawled on the ground, one hand still clutching his knee, the other holding a curling horn to his lips. In two steps I kicked the horn away from him, sending it skittering away on the cobbles. I stood over him glaring. Fear pinched his face as he gazed up at me. “The Nether Queen is not the only women you should fear,” I snarled and clubbed him with Shiharr’s hilt. He dropped to the ground unconscious.

I turned, looking for the man I’d set on fire. I found him face first on the ground, the fire burning out, and Olena standing over him. Her face was deathly pale as I approached. “Are you alright?” I asked.

She dragged her eyes off the soldier and met my gaze. “I killed him.” She gestured to the body and I noticed Jemin’s knife hilt sticking out of the soldier.

“You did what you had do.” I bent and, retrieving Jemin’s knife, cleaned it quickly. “Come on, we need to get going,” I squeezed Olena’s shoulder, hoping that would help ward off the shock of killing.

She nodded, her face was grim, but she met my eyes evenly.

I trotted to the alley and beckoned. My gaggle of stolen women trickled out and followed me across the little open road down to the river’s edge. Along the way I paused to scoop up the pole with the shattered lantern, it wasn’t a buoy but it would do.

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22-Hold Your Breath

One of the swimmer girls volunteered to go first.  A brown haired girl who looked a year or two younger than me, and who I didn’t recognize from the circus. At the mouth of the tunnel I explained, “A little way into the tunnel we will lose access to air. You must take a deep breath and hold it. Do not panic, do not struggle. Keep your body stiff and straight, and hold onto my collar.” I took her hands and wrapped her fingers around the back of my tunic collar. “I will swim and take you out. Halfway, I will stop and breathe into your mouth—I will pinch your nose when I do it so you don’t suck in water—alright?” I craned my neck to look at her behind me.

The girl nodded, her eyes big.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Melia.”

“Ready, Melia?”

Melia nodded again. Her face was pale but resolved.

I turned to face the black hole of the tunnel. “Take a deep breath,” I said, filling my own lungs with the damp air of the cistern before diving forward with my burden.

I swam for speed this time, not caution, hugging the bottom of the tunnel so I didn’t knock my passenger unconscious. And this time I counted. Melia didn’t know I had no idea where “half way” was, and I was determined that next time I would.

When I reached eighty I reached back for her hands and tugged her fingers off my collar. I swiveled in the passage, still gently kicking forward so to make the most of the time, and grasping Melia’s shoulders pulled her up to me. Her hands closed on my arms with deathly strength—she was afraid. I hadn’t done this since we’d fled Galhara; it was exhausting, dangerous, and unpleasant. Even with the girl holding my arms I managed to find her face with my hands, pinch her nose, and putting my mouth over hers blew my air into her. She let go of my arms and as quickly as I could I had her grasp my collar and I poured myself into swimming.

I had reached two-hundred and my burden had gone limp when I saw the pale of the river at the end of the tunnel. Another forty before we reached the surface. I towed Melia by collar to the steep stone bank near the alley where I was to meet Jemin. How were we to get out? I flung one arm up the bank, hooking my hand on the cobbled street and trying to pull myself high enough to see into the shadows of the alley. “Jemin?” I called softly. There was no answer. I shifted. I had to get this girl out of the water, then get water out of her, and I had to do it quickly. “Jemin?” I called again, a little louder. Please be there. “Jemin?”

A figure came out of the alley, crouched low, “Lady Zare?”

“Yes,” relief flooded me, “Give me a hand here.”

“Are you alright?” Jemin came to the bank and tried to take my hand.

“No,” I shook my head, “Get her.”

He noticed the head bobbing beside me for the first time. He looked surprised, but he reached down into the river, snagged his hands under the girl’s armpits and pulled her out of the river. I helped guide her body over the edge. Then I used both my hands to haul myself up after her. The cold night air hit me as a harsh reminder that this was autumn.

Jemin laid Melia on the cobblestone in the alley and I was glad when he set about the business of forcing the water out of her lungs so I didn’t have to. I leaned against a building and caught my breath as the girl hacked up water and coughed. She startled when she saw Jemin but he soothed her and helped her sit up. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. He put my vest around her shoulders.

Jemin turned to me. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I found the kidnapped girls. I killed a man. They are all in the cistern now waiting for me to get them out.”

Jemin stared at me.

“And my family has already been moved,” I added, wiping water off my face.

Jemin stared a moment longer then exclaimed, “I thought I told you not to get cocky!”

“If it makes you feel better it was an accident. And I’m sure not feeling cocky, I have to bring eleven more women the same way I brought her,” I pointed at the girl huddled by Jemin.

“Will they all arrive full of water?” he asked in annoyance.

“Hopefully not,” I huffed. Now that I had a count, I could space the breath better. “I have to go back. Maybe you can start thinking of a way to get out of the city.  It takes roughly four minutes to swim the tunnel one way, so, don’t expect me back before eight have passed.”

Jemin shook his head, “Be safe,” he said, resigned. I turned and went back to the river.

The Tryber received me warmly and the trip back to the cistern seemed to take much less time than the trip out had. I was greeted at the other end by eleven pale, frightened faces in a dark cistern. If any servant girl did happen to see them, she would probably scream in terror at seeing the cistern haunted by such ghosts. I took the closest girl by the hand and explained the journey as I had to Melia. She was one of the acrobats and significantly easier to pull through the water, accustomed as she was to making herself stiff as a board for minutes at a time. Fit and aided by a better timed breath, she made it to the free air on the open river without ingesting water. I stayed in the water as she climbed out into Jemin’s care. Then I dove down again. Ten more to go. I felt the currents helping me along as I enacted the grueling evacuation. With each trip I could feel my limbs getting heavier and my head getting slower. Swimming took more and more effort, even with the Tryber’s kindly efforts. I tried to remember the last time I’d swum as long as this and couldn’t. Probably because I had enough to do counting and swimming. By the time Olena, the last to come, and I broke the surface in the river I felt that what I wanted most in the whole world was a warm bed. Right this instant, in fact.

Olena climbed out with but little assistance from Jemin. My arms shook as I pulled myself up and Jemin quickly reached a hand to steady me and help me to the alley.

“I should go back,” I mumbled wearily to Jemin, “and close the grates behind me. I had to prop them open to get everyone out.”

“Grates? Forget them, you’re not going back. The last twenty minutes there has been a commotion in the garrison, I expect soldiers in the streets at any moment.”

“I bet they found the blood.”

“I’m sure they did,” growled Jemin. He pulled me deeper in the alley, past the women huddled together in the darkest shadows, and stopped next to a small pile of crates. Probably the waste from the fine kitchen of the fine house we were hiding behind.

I sat down on the crates and tried to wring out my clothes, shivering in the night air. The moon highlighted the dark splotches on my tunic and I shuddered. Bunching my sleeves up I grabbed the cloth and twisted it savagely, wishing I could get all the blood out of them as I drove the water out.

“Are you hurt? Are those…” Jemin hesitated and I looked up at him.

“What?”

“Stripes?” he pointed awkwardly to my forearms.

“Oh,” I had forgotten about those. Visible now after so much time in water, two blue stripes graced each arm, stretching from under my sleeves and trailing halfway down my forearms. “Yes, nymphs have blue stripes…camouflage in water. Mine are much more pale, and not quite so far reaching. They fade when we aren’t in water.” I pulled my sleeves down and shivered again.

Jemin shook his head in wonder and leaned against the wall next to me. “Here, my lady,” he put his arm around my shoulders to share his warmth.

I leaned in gratefully.

“We don’t have much time,” said Jemin, “Here is the plan.”

 

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