Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) (28 page)

“The soldiers took all my stores,” the farmer had complained to Roanna, Simo and Sylene. “I’ve hardly nothin’ left.”

Yet his pained expression, as he studied the three from top to toe, suggested how reluctant he had been to turn them away empty-handed. After a long awkward minute when the trio stood staring, wordlessly refusing to leave, he had raised a finger and said, “Wait here.”

They had watched as he marched toward the farmhouse. His clothes were as filthy as theirs and the soles of his shoes were almost worn through. As much as Roanna had hated to beg, especially from this poor wretch of a man, they had nowhere else to turn and so she and the others had stood waiting.

He hadn’t gone long and returned with a small burlap pouch.

“It isn’t much,” he had apologized. “Maybe a pound.”

When Simo took the bag of grain, the farmer had clenched his lips and turned away in abject embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, unable to face them. “That’s all I can do.”

“Bless you!” said Roanna. “We can’t thank you enough.”

That was four days ago. Under ordinary circumstances, that little might have been adequate for one. But they had eaten sparingly, making the small parcel of grain suffice for three. Twice daily, they had built a fire and prepared a miniscule portion of porridge, dividing it among themselves, keeping themselves alive for the most part with water.

Afraid they had gotten lost, they had asked him the way to barakMall. The farmer had assured them their direction was correct. Since then, however, the road had split repeatedly and all were well aware how those compounded deviations could have taken them far off course. Whenever a patrol or group of couriers or, as was the case today when what must have been an entire brigade bearing blue and gray Pytherali banners passed by, they had followed. They had tried to inquire about the brigade’s destination, but found the soldiers unwilling to divulge even that information.

Nor could Roanna provide assistance. Except for those visions a few days before, she foresaw nothing. Instead, she continued to complain of headaches and struggled to remain cheery despite repeated descents into despair.

To add to all this, they now found themselves stuck axle-deep in a ditch after one of the larger bodies of troops had forced them off the roadway. Simo was trying to goad the team to haul them back out, but the horses were balking.

“Everybody out!” he cried when the load proved too much.

They all leapt overboard, grabbed a sideboard and pushed.

“I’m still amazed we haven’t busted something,” Simo remarked after the horses had freed them. The women climbed aboard, happy when all four wheels were planted squarely on the road.

“How much farther, do you think?” Sylene gasped as she pulled herself onto the seat beside him.

He shook his head.

“I’d have thought we’d be there by now,” he replied, craning his neck toward the north.

He scanned the landscape, visoring his eyes from the afternoon glare with one hand leveled across his brow, then shook his head.

“My guess is we are in Liad-Nur alright,” he said. “But I’m uncertain what part.”

“I move we keep following the Pytherali soldiers,” said Roanna. “Unless we run across another farmhouse soon, we will finish the food by dinner.”

Simo nodded and flicked the reins.

At least the horses are alright
, thought Roanna.
They’re not starving like we are
.

In fact, the horses had had plenty to graze upon. The rains presaging the cold months had brought the grasses alive and filled the many streams and rivulets that coursed through the land. Certainly, the animals were tired from days spent hauling with very little respite, but Simo knew not to push them to exhaustion and allowed them plenty of rest every night.

At one point, the road wound through a grove of werewood trees, so called because their bark contorted into contours that often resembled people’s faces. Superstitions had grown around these odd quirks of nature, despite the fact there was nothing to prove the tales had any foundation. To their starvation-ravaged minds, each tree seemed to stare, scowling at them from beneath its boughs. It was lack of sustenance, Roanna knew, combined with the terrifying times, that played on their imaginations, and she watched as Sylene slid next to Simo. He, in turn, nestled her in the crook of his arm. And while the stand was neither large nor very dark and they were not inside it for more than five minutes, the trio released a collective sigh and conversation resumed once they emerged.

Once again in the open, Sylene turned the conversation to her children, a boy and a girl now gone from her home with families of their own. Roanna was laughing with her, wondering why she was finding the topic of children so delightful that it caused her to laugh. She was remembering a time involving Pandy’s tree climbing days when Simo braked hard.

“Whoa!” he cried and the horses neighed and attempted to rear onto their hind legs. Confused by the abrupt stop, they forced Simo to work to control them.

“What is it?” cried Sylene, looking to see what had caused Simo to do so.

When the horses seemed to have calmed, Simo stood. He was staring, as if in a trance, across a broad open plain that extended to the horizon.

“There,” he said after a moment and raised an arm to point.

Roanna’s eyes moved from Sylene to Simo. Then, seeing the rise and fall of his chest and the intensity of his gaze, she followed the length of his arm out past his finger toward a vast swarm of movement barely visible through the haze.

“Do you see?” he asked.

As if a spell had been broken, he turned at the waist and returned Roanna’s stare.

“Do you see?” he repeated.

When he appeared satisfied he had secured her attention, he turned back, drawing her eyes with him, and pointed again. He dropped to a crouch, so that all eyes were on the same level, and gestured toward what appeared to be a large low-lying structure near the swarm’s center. When Roanna rose to her feet, the better to see, Simo rose with her, then turned to Sylene. He grasped her arm and drew her up beside him.

The three remained staring for what seemed close to a minute until, as the object of their quest resolved in their minds, they said in unison, “barakMall.” The air at the horizon shimmered, rendering the structure almost invisible through the haze, so that, for a moment, Roanna doubted its existence. But the longer she stared, details like the movement of what certainly must be troops and meandering lines of supply wagons coalesced, converging around a focal point.

“BarakMall,” they repeated.

It was all they could do to contain themselves, and soon even that effort disappeared. They were laughing and embracing and all at once Roanna began jumping for joy.

That proved too much for the horses. They bolted. When they took off, Roanna fell back onto the bed as Simo and Sylene tumbled on top of her.

As the wagon bounced across the plain—the horses having parted with the road—what had only moments earlier been a celebration, rapidly transformed into a frantic struggle to climb back into the driver’s seat and regain control.

Simo had nearly managed to do so when one of the wheels struck a hole, sending the bed airborne and Simo soaring. He landed hard and rolled into the rear gate. Roanna grabbed the seatback. When she had pulled herself forward enough that the back creased her waist, the wagon bounced yet again, hurling her forward and almost out onto the splinter bar that extended between the horses.

A hand grabbed her ankle and she struggled for a handhold on the footboard as hands on both her legs began pulling her back. Before they could retrieve her, however, she managed to grasp both sets of reins. They had nearly become lost beneath the transom and front axel and she feared that losing them would be disastrous.

As Simo and Sylene hauled her onto the seat, she tried reining in the team. The horses were now well beyond control, however, and as the wagon continued jouncing forward, its passengers strove simply to remain where they were.

Without warning, the right front wheel slammed into a depression and it was all they could do to prevent being ejected. Roanna heard a crack and a pop as the axel gave way. It broke from the wagon’s transom, allowing the horses to run off, taking the axle and its solitary wheel with them.

The wagon, leaning hard to the right, but still under momentum, dug a groove in the soil and halted. In the sudden quiet that followed, dust clouds blew past. The trio covered their faces and turned their backs to the wind until the air around them became clear enough to breathe. Once they were able to turn back and look, the horses were a hundred or more yards distant and were rapidly disappearing.

“Mastad! That was stupid of me,” Roanna swore as she leapt to the ground.

Her body stiffened when she landed and she cried out in pain. Grabbing her lower back with both hands and holding it arched, she eased herself upright.

“Are you alright?” asked Simo.

He was preparing to climb out, bracing himself with one hand on the sideboard, when Roanna shook her head.

“It hurts,” she gasped.

Simo eased himself down and came beside her, taking each of her shoulders into his hands.

“Perhaps you should sit,” he said and frowned, his face reflecting his concern.

Roanna started to refuse, then thought better and looked for somewhere she might rest. Simo helped her walk to the rear of the wagon’s bed and dropped the tailgate.

“Here, let me help you,” he said and lifted her up onto it.

Sylene, still aboard, scooted down beside her, exchanging glances with Simo as she came. Once she was seated beside Roanna, she turned toward their now impossibly remote destination, then back at Simo. He nodded, frowning gravely.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

Roanna grimaced and shook her head.

“Not that far,” she gasped, gazing toward the place where they had been going. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Thunder boomed and she raised her head to see storm clouds forming in the west.

“This is a fine mess I’ve gotten us into,” she said.

After considerable debate, they decided to send Simo to the fort. As difficult as they expected the journey would be for him, especially with a tempest looming, they could not afford to remain this far from the road. Although it was unlikely anyone would wander by, they were reluctant leave Roanna all by herself for fear the wrong sort of person might do so. Certainly Sylene would not be bodyguard enough to protect her, but she was now the stronger of the two and they agreed that counted for something. In fact, there was no good choice, only worse ones. So, as the day began to grow late, the women found themselves staring toward barakMall, all other topics of conversation exhausted, wondering aloud about Simo’s progress.

“How long do you think it will take him?” asked Sylene.

Roanna tried to assess the giant sun’s position through the haze.

“It depends on how well he holds up. I know the two of us are spent. He could already be there, or he may have been forced to stop and rest.” She looked helplessly at Sylene. “I’m so sorry,” she said as tears began streaming down her face.

“Nonsense!” said Sylene. “If you hadn’t spooked them, it could have been Simo or me. We were all acting like children.”

“It was just so… ”

“I know,” Sylene interrupted and placed a hand on top of hers. “After so many days, it had just built up inside of us.”

And then Roanna wasn’t listening. As Sylene continued her reassurances, Roanna’s eyes opened wide as a vision expanded before her.

“Pandy!” she gasped as, for the second time in as many days, her daughter’s auburn hair and unmistakable form appeared before her. Turn around, she begged. Please turn around so I can see you. As if Pandy had heard, she turned and Roanna gasped.

She was almost unaware of Sylene saying, “No, dear. I’m Sylene.”

“Pandy!” Roanna repeated.

Before Sylene could object again, Roanna turned and looked at her.

“My daughter is in the fortress.”

Roanna leaned toward Sylene and stared into her eyes, assuring her she was cognizant of the one to whom she was speaking.

“She’s inside barakMall. I can see her.” When Sylene cocked her head to question, Roanna added, “From the way she turned and looked in this direction, I think she sees me as well.”

Day turned into night as the women discussed the return of Roanna’s ability.

“I’m almost afraid to believe it, but it feels right. When we daydream,” Roanna was saying, trying to help Sylene make sense of what she was telling her, “it’s easy to distinguish those illusions from the real world around us. They don’t have the same clarity. They lack substance. Do you know what I mean?”

Sylene nodded, so Roanna continued.

“And while my foresights also lack the same kind of substance, they seem somehow closer to reality, much more so than any fantasy.” She smiled and said, “That’s how it felt when I suddenly saw Pandy. I’m certain she is there. She’s… ”

Roanna grabbed her head and winced.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed.