Fortress Draconis (15 page)

Peri laid her right hand on Alyx’s left shoulder. “My sister, she is Gyrkyme in all but wings. If she chose, she could fly.”

“You are no doubt correct, Perrine.” The other rider, a thickset man, reached up and adjusted the patch he wore over his right eye. “Your caution does you great credit, Highness. You are indeed all that was hoped. This we will communicate to our masters.”

Alyx nodded slowly. “Temper the report with reality. I have been trained to do something that will become legend. Assuming I can do exactly thatbefore the act must be performed is pure folly. The saving of Stellin is a good sign, but reading the future from it is, at best, tricky. We have much more to learn and do, and your masters should know that this is exactly what I will continue to do.”

fT]he ride south exhausted Will, and the necessity of post-I ing a watch when they did stop to rest meant he never JL got enough in the way of sleep. What he found most disturbing about this was the nature of the dreams he had. Over and over again he found himself watching the winged woman kill the gibberer, then return after the Crow killed the vylaen. She enfolded him in arms and wings, hugging him to her to express her gratitude at saving her life.

To be awoken in the midst of one of those dreams produced embarrassment—and Resolute seemed preternaturally adept at knowing just when to wake him up. Will would assume his duties and return to the dreams when his watch was over; but dawn would arrive before the dreams had come to any fruition.

On the road he mentioned the dreams to Crow. The older man smiled and shot him a wink. “Not really a surprise is it, that you would dream about her? She saved your life and you likely saved hers. She was beautiful. Trysting with someone exotic like that would be an adventure.”

Resolute turned in the saddle and snorted. “So would consorting with sheep, but that does not mean such things would be recommended.”

Crow frowned. “Is that a traditional elven view of Gyrkyme coming from you, Resolute?”

The Vorquelf shook his head. “I’m as much of an alien creature in the eyes of my brethren as they are. My concern’s for the boy’s blood. Coupling with her likely won’t do the prophecy any help, so I’d not recommend it.”

Will arched an eyebrow. “Back up a minute. What do the elves think about the Gyrkyme?”

“Centuries ago, back before Chytrine was a threat, there was a sorcerer, Kirun, who ensorcelled an elven prince and his band of champions. He caused them to mate with a flock ofaraftü —savage aerial creatures with the head and body of a woman, but wings, feathers, and talons of an eagle. Their union produced the first Gyrkyme, who then bred true.” Crow gestured back toward the mountains where they had visited Oracle. “The urZrethi created Gyrvirgul for them, to the disgust of the elves, who see them as bestial rapeget.”

A low growl issued from Resolute’s throat. “It doesn’t help that many of the Gyrkyme, early on, pressed claims to the properties of their fathers. Their society is a parody of elven society, or so most elves see it. But the few I’ve met are fierce warriors, so they’ve earned my respect.”

The youth frowned. “You said I couldn’t get a child on her, but elves got children on theAraftü, how is that?”

The Vorquelf shrugged. “Most say it was Kirun’s mag-ick, which means it wasn’t a natural thing at all. When it has happened, when an elf has gotten a woman with child— rare though that is—the child is accepted. For the sake of your blood though, you should abandon thought of the exotic. It’s better you were dreaming of Sephi.”

Will smiled. “Not so hard to do. I wonder how she’s making out, given that we rode out with all her stuff, and that of her uncle.”

The Vorquelf shook his head. “She won’t miss ratty clothes.”

“She’d probably want her uncle’s book, too, and the other things.”

Crow glanced over at Will. “Book? Other things?”

“Some bugboards—you know, the cedar things to keep bugs away from cloth. The book has drawings and words and things.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I did, to Resolute, when we were loading up and you were tending her.”

The Vorquelf nodded as he reined his horse around a bend in the game trail they were following through the hills. “He did mention it, Crow. With the girl around, there was no way to talk to you about it. The book didn’t surprise me, given he’s a sorcerer.”

Will scratched at the back of his neck. “How did you know that?”

“The gibberer had been killed by magick and Distalus’ face had been peeled. Gibberers tend to think of magickers as being possessed by the ghosts of vylaens. They peel the flesh off faces to let the ghosts out, so they can be reborn into vylaens. The more and louder the screams, the more powerful the ghost.”

Will shivered, then reached back and pulled Distalus’ saddlebags off the rump of his horse. He dug around in one of them and handed the book to Crow. “Maybe this will make sense to you.”

Crow opened the book and turned to the place marked with the strip of wood. “The writing is coded, but we have a drawing of Stellin, marking strengths and weaknesses.” He tapped the page with the bookmark. “More importantly, we have a strip here ofmagilex wood, stained to look like blackoak.”

Resolute reined his horse to a stop and turned it around. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before, boy?”

Will shrugged. “Probably because I didn’t know about it. What is it?”

“What else did they have? Bugboards, you said?” Crow closed the book and laid themagilex strip against the cover. “Give them to me.”

Will found the one in Distalus’ bag easily and handed it to Crow. He had to dismount and run back to one of the packhorses and rummage around before he found the other one. He raced back and handed it to the man. “What do you think it is?”

Crow pressed the two pieces of bugboard long edge to long edge, with the slot connecting them across the top. He slotted themagilex strip in there, sliding it first left and then to the right, where it caught and held when the groove narrowed slightly. In an instant a blue flash passed over the wooden tablet and left in its wake burning blue characters.

“I can’t read. What does it say?”

Crow shook his head. “I don’t recognize the script. Resolute?”

The Vorquelf stared at it for a moment, then frowned. “I’ve not seen its like before. Probably code, like the book.”

Crow snapped themagilex strip out of the slot and the writing vanished. “So, they each had half anarcanslata with them. Combining the two halves and using the mageoak to connect them, that’s fairly sophisticated magick. A map of Stellin in the book with descriptions in code. I’d say they were spying for someone.”

“For Oriosa.” Will smiled. “Definitely Oriosa.”

The Vorquelf arched an eyebrow at him. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“The coins in Distalus’ purse. A good mix, some are fake, and none are from Oriosa.”

The older man smiled. “Circumstantial proof, but interesting. Since thearcanslata allows them to communicate with their masters instantly, do you think they were told to look for us and that’s why they followed us into the mountains?”

Resolute slowly shook his head. “If they were looking for us, they would not have spun the tale about going to Yslin. I would bet when waiting in Stellin they were told that you and I had passed through before, years ago, with Oracle. They followed, trying to track us, but failed. Because of her prophecy at the time of the expedition, she’s known, so they were probably sent to find her. Her location would be of value to Scrainwood’s people.”

Will closed his eyes as facts collided in his head. “But, if what Distalus said about King Scrainwood is true, and he’s working for Chytrine, why would the gibberers have killed Distalus?”

Crow half smiled. “While Scrainwood might provide sanctuary for Aurolani forces within Oriosa, he denies that he does the same to his peers, and will send them reports from his scouts about possible movements of Aurolani forces. He plays both ends against the middle, but because he provides value to both sides, no one kills him. Chances are Chytrine did not know Scrainwood had spies in the area.”

“Or,” offered Resolute as he reined his horse around and started off again, “she did and wanted them killed.”

Mulling over the variety of permutations of who knew what, when, and where kept Will busy for much of the time he spent awake. They traveled east-northeast, following a river valley that skirted Yslin to the south. They kept away from towns, preferring to move through the woodlands along woodsman-tracks or game trails. Their travels took them a week—the whole of ten days—and proceeded along what Will took to thinking of as the outlaw path.

In the hills and hollows, as night fell, they would find caves or clearings where others had gathered. Mostly men, but not a few women, all of them looking lean and hungry—closer to a pack of wolves than a gathering of humans. The nature of the people surprised Will because in the Dimandowns he was used to hard men, bad men; but they seemed soft compared to those who had been chased into the wilderness. Most of the outlaws seemed almost feral. Will had no doubt that if cornered in a city, they’d tear their citified counterparts asunder.

In the city, you have enemies who want to kill you. Out here, everything wants you to die, and only the maggots will notice your passing.

Names weren’t used on the outlaw path. No one asked where they were going, just where they’d come from and what they’d seen. Will figured half the replies were outright lies; and the other half were elaborated to the point of being of little use.

At one place, a green dell with some standing stones and a stream meandering past, an older man—who bore a passing resemblance to Crow—nodded as he sucked on a pipe. “I’d be being careful, were I you. Come from east, I have. Riders been asking after three traveling together: a Vork, a man, and a boy. Wouldn’t be wanting you to be mistook for them. These must be desperate men, what with soldiers inquiring.”

Crow laughed gently. “Not us, friend. We’ve done aught but kill gibberers and eat plump berries plucked from trail-side. Likely King Augustus might be wanting us to show him the best bushes.”

“Well, you’ll find berry-picking spotty as you go on, but your other pastime, it’ll keep you busy.” He shook his head. “They’ve been a bother before, but now they’re a bit more organized. Striking at farms and a few villages, which is why you’ll see families on the path.”

“Lots of people being driven from their homes, then?”

The man nodded. “I’ve seen worse. Was in Jerana when Chytrine took Okrannel. I remember them streaming over the borders. This is just a trickle, but soon enough, my friends, if she comes south, we’ll have ourselves a flood.”

After that night they hid themselves away from even the outlaws. The logic of the decision was as inescapable as it was simple. If soldiers were looking for them, the fewer people who saw them the better. Picking their way through the countryside off an established route did slow them down, but there were several days where only birds, beasts, and plants marked their passage.

That isolation ended the tenth day out of Stellin, at week’s end. Their supplies were beginning to run low. They came across a small cultivated plot deep in the woods northeast of Yslin, almost to the Saporician border. A small wooden house sat in the middle of the plot and had obviously been constructed from the trees cleared from the field.

After a hushed conversation at the forest edge, they decided to let Will approach the house and ask if he could buy some food—meat that had been salted away, meal or flour, cheese, or anything else that might be available. The fact that no smoke drifted from the chimney suggested the building might be empty, in which case Will could employ his skills to get supplies and leave money in exchange.

The idea of leaving money, as well as the admonition to not take the best of whatever was to be found, rankled. Will fully understood that the supplies he’d be taking were valuable—if they weren’t, why would I be taking them?Leaving money for them, though, that was just rewarding the householder for not protecting his house well enough.Likely someone will come in, take the rest of his supplies and the money I leave behind.

He smiled as he rode toward the house and decided he’d leave the counterfeit coins as payment.As a lesson.

Halfway to the house, he reined his horse around to a shallow spot in a ditch that cut across the plot. The course deviation let him see a new patch of forest past the house. There, emerging into the field from an arch of green foliage, came five gibberers leading a bearded prisoner. The naked man, whose hands had been lashed to a pole running across the small of his back, had a noose hung round his neck and stumbled forward as a gibberer jerked the rope.

Without conscious thought, Will kicked his horse in the ribs and galloped toward the gibberers. His right hand went to the bladestar pouch. His first throw spun one of the metal projectiles into a gibberer’s belly. It howled sharply, then mewed and toppled over. The second throw caught the rope-wielder high in the chest. It staggered, then dropped face first to the ground, pulling the man down with it.

A black-fletched arrow whizzed past him, nipping at the upper leaves of the half-grown corn stalks. It passed through a gibberer’s forearm and pierced its chest, pinning the limb. The gibberkin’s outraged yip melted into a gurgle that dripped red from its nostrils. A second arrow came in with a bit more arc, passing clean through another gibberer’s chest. A squirt of blood pumped out a hole in its breast, then its beady eyes rolled up and it toppled over.

The last gibberer moved from behind the captive and brandished the spear it had been carrying over its shoulder. Will reined back on his horse and the beast came around to present its flank to the gibberer. Will got a bladestar and threw it across his body, but the gibberer flicked it out of the air with the spear-point.

The gibberer charged and Will leaped from the saddle. He drew his longknife and ducked between rows of corn, letting the gibberer’s first lunge slide past him. He figured he could time the lunges, move inside, and kill the gibberer, but the Aurolani soldier had other ideas. It scythed the spear to the side, smacking Will in the flank and driving him into the open. There it stalked him as an arrow whipped past its back.