Voyage of the Fox Rider (23 page)

That night Jinnarin’s dreams were filled with scenes of forests and fields, of streams and pools, of flowers and of everyday tasks. She had no sending, no dream of dread, and she awoke filled with misery, for once more her nightmare had fled.

But the following night, again it was back, and she awoke atremble in sweat.

Yet afterward it was gone for four nights running, ere returning on the fifth.

“Sporadic,” declared Alamar.

“He is weakening,” wept Jinnarin. “Oh, my Farrix dwindles.”

“I can see nought,” said Aylis wearily, “though Adon knows I have tried.”

Under a full Moon of the third night of November of the year 1E9574, the
Eroean
dropped anchor in the shelter of a headland along the rocky shores of the western continent, six weeks and six days after setting sail from Port Arbalin. Her crossing of the Avagon Sea and of the Weston Ocean had been swift but by no means spectacularly so, for the Elvenship in the past had made the same journey in as few as four weeks and two days. Even so. Aravan was satisfied that the ship had done as well as could be expected, given the state of the winds, though Rico was certain that they had lost a day overall, while others disputed his claim.

We took a solemn oath to Lady Jinnarin…fought pirates…rescued the Lady Aylis…rowed for days to get out o’ the grasp of the claws of the Crab…why, we even had a shipboard spree. Now given all of that, don’t you think, Rico, as we done as well as could be expected?

By damn, no! I t’ink we be one day faster do we row better. Next time, eh?

Regardless as to whether the trip could have been swifter, the fact was that the
Eroean
now lay at anchor along a shore where Fox Riders were said to dwell. And on the morrow, Aravan and the Lady Jinnarin and Rux, along with Alamar and the Lady Aylis, would go inland and seek out Tarquin, though just what aid he might give them, none aboard the Elvenship knew.

Ashore

Autumn, 1E9574

[The Present]

J
ust after dawn two gigs were lowered, one with Alamar and Jinnarin and Rux aboard, while Aravan and Aylis climbed down a ladder after, a rowing crew boarding as well. The other gig took on a mixed band of sailors and Dwarven warriors, Jatu and Bokar among these. With sailors manning the oars, toward the rocky shore they rowed, the gigs riding in on the high tide. A thin shingle of sand rimmed a tiny cove, rough crags rising above, and toward this landing they made their way.

“Look smart, anow!” called Boder to the rowers, the helmsman manning the tiller. “A bit more on the larboard oars, lads. Now steady. Steady.…Now hard!”

The gig rode in on the crest of a wave to scrape against rocky sand. Forward, two sailors jumped over the wales and haled the boat up, riding the next wave onto the landing. Five yards away the second boat settled into the shore as well.

Clambering over the side, Alamar looked up at the craggy rise. “Why is it that adventures always seem to involve difficult obstacles. Just once, mind you, once, I would like to go on an undertaking where level grassy lawns are all that is ventured, and the goal nearby at that.”

Jatu laughed. “Ah, but Mage Alamar, what then would the bards sing of? How Alamar the Great walked upon grass a few hundred feet and then rested for a
while?” Again the big black Man laughed, while Alamar cast him a scowl.

“Eh, I don’t care what the bards sing of, you big idiot. I’d rather walk on level grass than climb up rocks.”

“Father, you don’t
have
to go.”

“Oh no? Well let me ask you, young lady, just who do you think saved the ship from the Rovers, eh?”

Jinnarin shook her head. “No Rovers here, Alamar.”

“Of course not, Pysk. I’m not a complete fool, you know. Savages though, well, that’s a different matter.”

“Leave any savages to me,” growled Bokar, the Dwarf thumbing the edge of his axe.

“Nay, Bokar,” spoke up Aravan. “Any so-called savages are my province, for I have been here many times before and they know of me.”

Aylis looked at Aravan. “How long past?”

“Most recently?—mayhap a hundred summers, no more.”

“Then are they like to remember?”

Aravan nodded. “My ship and I are now woven into their lore.”

“Well, I’m going up now,” said Jinnarin. “The last thing I want is for the Humans of this Land to see me.”

“Hold!” called Bokar, but he was too late, for Jinnarin on Rux disappeared among the crags, the fox scrambling upward. “Dask, Brekka, up after, swift!” Two Dwarven scouts began a hasty ascent. “Fool Pysk,” he hissed, “running off like that, mayhap into the very jaws of danger.”

Jatu leaned down to the Dwarf. “Nay, Bokar, no fool she. She has the magic of shadow and stealth to protect her and Rux. Besides, as soon as we gain the top, these five go on without us, for they would find Tarquin, an unlikely end if we are with them.”

Bokar scowled at Jatu, plainly disliking the plan to let these searchers go forth without Dwarven escort. “Five? I count but four: Captain Aravan, Mage Alamar, Seer Aylis, and Lady Jinnarin. Who else do you have in mind?”

Jatu smiled. “I include Rux among their number.”

Now Bokar grinned. “Aye.”

A low whistle came from above, and on the verge stood Dask, signalling the all clear.

Leaving a boatwatch behind, up through the crags the others wended, choosing the easiest path for Alamar, at times merely steadying the elder, at other times lifting him bodily up the jagged way. At last they reached the crest, and Alamar sat and rested while others scouted about, ranging out across the grass-topped headland and toward the nearby pine tree forest…yet no sign did they find of Jinnarin or Rux.

As they gathered together once more near the place where Alamar rested, Bokar growled, “Captain, I like this not. Lady Jinnarin is missing. Mayhap the forest dwellers have captured her. I would set search parties out…and bring more from the ship to aid, if needed.”

Aravan shook his head. “Nay, Bokar. Although we found no sign of Lady Jinnarin, we also found no evidence of the forest dwellers—nor of the Hidden Ones, for that matter. I ween that she and Rux are off on their own to find Tarquin.”

Unconvinced, Bokar took a deep breath but said nothing, though Jatu nodded in agreement with Aravan’s words.

Turning to Alamar, Aravan asked, “Deem thee ready for travel?”

The eld Mage stood, a look of irritation on his face. “Hmph! Of course I am ready, Captain. Couldn’t be more ready if I was a thousand years younger. It’s not me who’s holding up the march. It’s that dratted Pysk gone missing, that’s who.”

Shouldering a small knapsack of supplies, Aravan looked at Aylis, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if to ask her how could she possibly be the get of this blame-laying old grouch.

“Come, Father,” said Aylis, offering Alamar her arm. “Let us find this Tarquin.”

Sneering at her proffered aid, Alamar barked, “Ha! More like he will find us than the other way about.” And the eld Mage tramped off in the direction of the woods, while in his wake stepped Aylis and Aravan, seeress and Elf casting grins at one another as if sharing a secret.

Toward the pine tree forest went the three, while Bokar stood behind and clenched his teeth, for only Aravan bore weaponry, and that nought but bow and
quiver of arrows…and a long-knife in a scabbard strapped to his thigh, and Bokar’s opinion was that they were virtually defenseless without the Châkka at their sides. The Dwarf watched until they disappeared into the woodland and he could see them no more. And then he turned and began aiding Jatu and the remaining sailors and warriors as they set about establishing a campsite along the top of the cliff.

When they came in among the trees, Alamar stopped and faced Aravan. “What now, Elf? Where do we go from here?”

Aravan gestured forward. “Ahead, a short way, a league or less, we will find the clearing where we will wait. Tarquin will come to us there if he is of a mind to meet ye twain. If not, then on the morrow I will go to him alone.”

“Well, if you know where he lives,” grumped Alamar, as they started forward again, “then I say we march straight to him. No need for this shilly-shallying about in the woods.”

“Father”—Aylis’s words came sharply—“these are Hidden Ones. We need to respect their rights.”

“Pah!” snorted Alamar “Foolishness! All foolishness!”

Stopping now and again for Alamar to rest, at last they came through the thick pines to the grassy clearing sought by Aravan. Here the Elf dropped his knapsack and they sat and waited, while a soft breeze soughed in the crowns overhead and a stream could be heard burbling nearby.

Aylis stood. “There is a rill somewhere close. I am going to taste of its water.” Hearing no objection, she walked through the tall yellow grass and across the glade toward the murmuring of the run. Aravan watched her go.

As she strode away, Alamar shifted about and then shifted again, fingers probing the earth. “The ground is chill. Winter is near. I feel it in my bones.”

Aravan nodded, his gaze yet following Aylis. “Aye, Alamar. At these latitudes, winter comes early.”

“Drat that Pysk!” complained the elder. “Where is she? She should have found Tarquin by now.”

Aravan stood, taking up his bow and shading his eyes, peering across the clearing. “That she will find him I do not dispute, for little passes in Fox Riders’ domains that goes unnoticed by them, and the
Eroean
has been at anchor now a goodly while. That we have been seen by them, I ween there is no doubt. All that is at question is whether they wish to be seen by us.”

“Foolish Pysks, I say again,” grumped Alamar. “Why, there is every reason to trust us, and little reason to—”

Aravan set an arrow to bowstring, his gaze intent.

Alamar fell silent, and huffing, he stood and peered across the clearing, too. Aylis was not in sight. “Now where—?”

At that moment Aylis reappeared, standing, wiping her mouth with the heel of her hand, the tall grass all about her.

Aravan relaxed, replacing the arrow in its quiver.

Alamar sat back down with a grunt.

Mid morn, Aylis and Aravan heard a fox bark, and Aravan placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle, startling Alamar awake. “Eh, wha—?”