Duty (Book 2) (26 page)

“We didn’t know it would be a dangerous mission, and you’re the one that’s been preoccupied with Geoff every second of the. . .”

A stinging slap brought his argument up short.

“Don’t you dare think that this is my fault! I wouldn’t run off with some gorgeous ranger without telling you what I was up to. I’ve noticed you and Maewen talking lately, always in Elvish, as if you have your own little secrets to keep from the rest of us. I’ll tell you this, Gen. My heart belongs to you. One day, I hope yours will belong to me.”

She marched off without looking back. If he weren’t on duty, Gen knew the right thing to do would be to follow her, pretend he was wrong, and apologize.

“Don’t worry,” the Chalaine said. “She only does that to people she likes.”

“Very funny, Chalaine. Do you show this wicked edge of yours to everyone or just me?”

“Just you, I’m afraid.”

Gen put his arms behind his back and clasped his hands. “Well, if you have anything nasty to say to me, go ahead and get it over with. It would be most efficient to get all the abuse taken care of in one day.”

“What should I say?” the Chalaine whispered teasingly, coming close to the bars. “Your reckless self-endangerment has saved both my dignity and my life. I could hardly tell you to stop now out of respect for the good incurred by your past insanity. But,” and her voice grew soft and serious, “please don’t do anything like that again.”

That was the last remark Gen heard directed at him that evening, and he was grateful. He figured he would be the laughing stock of the camp tomorrow since the Dark Guard and half the camp had heard both of his thrashings. But the night was quiet and starry, the wind soft, and he enjoyed the silence until the sun bathed his face in light.

Gen couldn’t help but think that the skirmish with the Uyumaak had somehow been the catalyst that changed the prospects of the caravan from good to ill. In the days that followed their discovery of the Uyumaak company, fierce winds howled from the north, kicking up dust and dirt that bit when they hit exposed flesh. Soldiers and drivers had difficulty controlling the horses, and they could only see for short distances in front of them.

For once, Gen mused, the Chalaine could feel grateful for her carriage. While dust still came in through the bars, she was not exposed to the full fury of the wind. The Mages, including Ethris, rode patrols around the camp, using their magic to ease the effect of the gale and to help the caravan lumber forward.

The winds would usually die down when the sun fell, something for which all were thankful, but Uyumaak bands began making raids in the night, launching arrows into the camp from their hiding places in the dark. Two soldiers had been killed, a few others injured, though many more Uyumaak found death for their boldness.

Regent Ogbith sent skirmishers forward night and day to clear the way and bring advance warning of any attack. The terrain, hilly and dotted with trees and rocks, provided many shadows for ambush and assassins. Any sound out of the ordinary turned heads and moved hands to weapons, but as yet, the Uyumaak had attempted no open confrontation. Even so, the creatures’ rhythmic and distant pattering in the night foreshadowed conflicts yet to come.

On the fourth day since Gen and Maewen’s excursion, the quick-moving wind brought clouds with it, along with a light rain. The change from blistering heat and stinging wind was welcome, but as morning changed to afternoon, the rain picked up and the wind intensified again. It was in that wind that the long-missing deep range scouts were found, swaying from the branch of a dead pine, mangled so horribly that Gen felt sick despite the hundreds of brutal visions he’d seen during his training. Regent Ogbith ordered them cut down and given a proper burial. Their enemies had clearly left the corpses to unnerve the caravan, and thankfully the bodies were hidden from view well before the Chalaine’s carriage passed.

Night fell, and still it rained.

The Chalaine spoke with Gen for nearly two hours, whispering her concerns in the dark, seeking strength as fear settled in the camp. To distract her from her troubles, he got her talking about Fenna and Geoff and her mother, throwing in a few jokes about Chertanne. By the time his watch was over, Gen was thoroughly drenched, his toes squishing in water pooled around the socks in his boots.

“I scared up a dry blanket for you, Gen,” Jaron said as he climbed atop the wagon. “I would appreciate it if you would return the favor this evening.”

“Thank you, Jaron,” Gen returned. A dry blanket and his Trysmagic books sounded very inviting, and he jogged away toward his wagon. Maewen waited for him a little ahead of the wagon, backpack resting on her foot to keep it out of the mud. She wore no hood or hat against the rain and seemed heedless of the weather. Even with her black hair matted against her head and face, Gen thought she still carried an air of nobility that court-bred women with their carefully crafted hair and meticulously painted faces could not match.

“How was the watch, Gen?” she asked, always in Elvish. He hoped Fenna was nowhere nearby, since she scowled at him every time she saw Maewen talking with him.

“Long and wet, though uneventful.”

“And the Chalaine?”

“She is understandably a little scared, but clinging to hope. She spends most of her time giving me advice on how to navigate the troubled waters stirred up by Mirelle and Fenna.”

Maewen smirked. “I’ve lived a long time but cannot offer any aid there. You have done your duty and earned your respect by it. You haven’t lost my respect for what we did.”

“I would hope not, since it was your idea. But I doubt you’re loitering around here waiting to tell me about your respect.”

Maewen’s face sobered. “No. I thought you should know that I had a talk with Ethris. He tells me what I had already suspected. The weather is the work of magic. The Uyumaak are trying to slow our journey and interfere with our ability to look around us. Ethris feels that the magic is too powerful to be the work of just the one Uyumaak Shaman we saw, so we are likely facing more than one Uyumaak company, or a very strong Magician.”

“I prefer the rain over the threat of arrows in the dark,” Gen said.

“They are toying with us. I fear they have a large force to set against us, and I have an idea of where they will loose it upon us. The farther we get into rough territory, the less our strength of numbers or provisions will help us. If you feel like defying everyone, convince Jaron to come with us, and we will take the Chalaine to Elde Luri Mora quickly.”

Gen knew Maewen was serious, but she didn’t have to report to anyone when it was over. Gen wasn’t sure Maewen’s plan would work anymore, anyway. The Uyumaak appeared to have intelligent leaders, and if there were significant numbers of them in the wilderness, they would be deployed to keep anything from slipping by them unnoticed. Strength and speed coupled together were what they needed to survive the Uyumaak, and the weather ensured that speed could not be had.

The question Gen had heard on the lips of leader and soldier alike was what had happened to the large force sent to clear the way for them. They were to guard a store of provisions at Dunnach Falls, and two days would see the caravan there unless the carriages and wagons became so mired as to prevent any progress. So far, the ground had held firm, but if the rain continued, it would only be a matter of time before the earth was over-saturated and the wagons would sink.

“I’m afraid we’re stuck with the caravan for good or ill,” Gen replied. “Besides, we would have to take the Blessed One with us if we absconded with the Chalaine, and I don’t think I could stand being in close quarters with that man. Of course, if we left and he were killed, we could return home.”

“Then the world would be doomed. He has many faults, but we cannot do without him.”

Gen nodded but thought privately that they were all doomed, especially with Chertanne at the head of the human nations—unless the war were to be won by philandering and inebriation.

Gen said, “I’d best get some rest. I think I’ll need every last wit I have in the coming days. I see they’ve granted you permission to scout ahead.”

Maewen smirked. “I don’t need their permission or their blessing, though I let them think I do as a courtesy—sometimes. I want to see if I can find any sign of the soldiers who were to meet us at Dunnach Falls for reprovisioning. They refuse to send any more scouts forward—as they tend not to return anymore—but I think I can manage. I do wish you could come, though. I could use that sword of yours.”

“If you find the rest of that Uyumaak company, don’t attack them without me. They’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble, and I should like to exact the price from them.”

Maewen grinned and shouldered her backpack. “When this is over, you should travel with me. I could show you places that would cure you of any longing for cities or human company.”

Gen was stunned by the offer. “No doubt you could, but I imagine I will spend the rest of my days in the service of the Chalaine.”

“I don’t think you shall be in the service of the Chalaine for much longer at all.”

“Why?” Gen asked, surprised.

“Once the Chalaine marries Chertanne, she will be a member of his house and he will be the King of all the race of men, including you. Considering the way he feels about you and Rhugothians in general, he will place her under the protection of his guards and have the Dark Guard dismissed. If I read him right, he will have you killed the first chance he gets. If he is wise, which he isn’t, he will at least wait till you help get him home. If I were you, I would enter no stronghold of his. You’ve made him look the buffoon twice, which is twice more than anyone alive has done. If you step one foot into Aughmere, I will be at your funeral within a week.”

She paused, letting it sink in. “Of course, he’ll order Fenna to stay with the Chalaine and order you to stay away first. He knows you have feelings for Fenna and will do whatever he can to make you miserable.”

Gen felt numb. He thought his appointment to the Chalaine’s guard would never end, at least as long as Mikkik still threatened her. The realization that what he thought would last the better part of his lifetime would be over in a few weeks made him instantly feel as gloomy as the weather.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Maewen said upon noticing his distress. “I thought you would already know, though you might have thought the Chalaine would have some sway with Chertanne on the matter. When it is time, Gen, I will come for you, and you should come with me. Soon, I think the only service you will be able offer the Chalaine or Fenna will be to stay alive and not grieve them. Chertanne will want your blood, and I know every good place to hide. Think about it, but tell no one.”

Gen nodded his response as Maewen squeezed his arm and sprinted away into the rain-drenched hills. Gen exhaled heavily and went to the rear of the wagon.

Fenna sat inside, arms around her knees and eyes burning with anger. Unexpectedly, Geoff was nowhere to be found.

“Did you have a nice little talk with Maewen?” she asked, voice cold.

Gen clambered up into the wagon. He didn’t feel like talking at all. “No. She had nothing good to say.”

The bitterness in his voice was more than he had intended to show. The effect on Fenna was remarkable. Her face immediately changed from anger to concern.

“Gen, what’s wrong?” Fenna asked as he removed his sword.

“For one, there are likely more Uyumaak arrayed against us than we previously thought. And they have Magicians. This storm is their work.”

Gen pulled his shirt off and began to wring it out over the edge of the wagon.

“We always knew that was a possibility, Gen. Something else is bothering you. The look on your face when you came around the corner of the wagon was darker than any I’ve ever seen you wear, though you rarely have an expression at all.”

Gen pulled off his boots and socks and lay back on the bedding. Fenna shifted to look at him.

“If you must know,” Gen explained, calming his voice, “Maewen is of the opinion—and unfortunately I agree with her—that once the Chalaine is married to Chertanne, elevating him to be the Lord and ruler of us all, he will have the power to dismiss me from the Chalaine’s service, if not kill me outright.”

Fenna’s face saddened. “If he had any respect for the Chalaine, he wouldn’t.”

“We both know how much respect he has for the Chalaine.”

“He will probably dismiss me, as well.”

“That is the other thing. Maewen seems to think he will send me away but order you to stay and serve the Chalaine because he knows I love you and will keep you from me to hurt me.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?

“Love me?” Gen regarded her closely and steeled himself. He knew what he had to do, even if it was unfair to Fenna.

“I do,” he said softly. “If I didn’t, I would have run off with that little half-elven hussy a long time ago.”

Fenna grinned warmly and punched him in the ribs before laying her head on his shoulder and remaining quiet for many minutes. “I suppose,” she finally said, “that I should act like I hate you from now on so that he won’t think to use me against you.”

“On the contrary! You should act like you love me more than ever. As if you can’t stand to be without me.”

“One might think that a self-serving answer.” Fenna grinned, coming up on an elbow. “Though that wouldn’t require an act on my part. But you are serious, aren’t you? Why?”

Gen held her eyes with his. “Listen, Fenna. When the Chalaine marries Chertanne, she will be utterly alone, kept from everyone she knows or cares about. If there’s anything we can do to trick Chertanne into letting you stay with her, then we should do it. It would be hard on you, too, I’m afraid. You will end up in Aughmere miles from home and I’ll be running for my life and won’t be able to do so much as write. We could only hope that when Eldaloth returns to the world, he will put things right, both with Mikkik and Chertanne, and we can become Lord and Lady Blackshire.”

Fenna lay her head back on Gen’s breast. They listened to the rain patter against the canvas covering above them and the voices of soldiers preparing their gear for the next leg of the journey.