Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) (32 page)

Ehren ignored him. "We're on our own business," he told the Guards. "We'll make our own way."

"We've got orders," the man said, and nodded back at his partner. "You'll come with us back to Kurtane."

"It's a lot of trouble to ensure I get where I already intend to go," Ehren said. "And unless you can show me signed orders, I won't be needing your company." He kept his voice flat and final, and shifted his grip on his sword. Shaffron felt the change in Ehren's seat, knew the tension in the air…already he drew under himself, ready to respond to the slightest shift of Ehren's weight.

The man offered a particularly forced grin. "Never thought I'd see the day when a Guard would distrust his own like this."

"I don't know you," Ehren said. "I've seen you, but not as a Guard. And I've never seen your friend. If you're King's Guards, they're cycling you through too damned fast." He paused, and added, "Which probably means you're no damned good."

"Ehren!" Laine gulped out the word, aghast.

But Ehren's attention riveted on the men— both of whom had given up their pretense of congeniality with one quick exchanged glance. They kicked their horses hard, eliciting annoyed grunts as they charged, crowding each other on the narrow trail.

Ehren dropped Ricasso's lead; Shaffron broke into a gallop from standstill, only a few strides from collision point. Ehren closed the reins and deepened his seat and the chestnut surged forward and up, leaping high, his sword flashing to take the first man down. Branches raked Ehren's side, momentarily blinding him; the noise of whipping foliage, pounding hooves, and grunting horses made up his world until Shaffron broke into the clear.

Blinking watering eyes, Ehren pivoted Shaffron on his hindquarters to face the men. One man hung over his horse's neck, no longer a threat; the other hesitated just beyond Ricasso, his horse dancing— and then chose to turn on Laine.

"The Barrenlands!" Ehren bellowed over the distance between them. Laine instantly dropped the mule's lead and whirled his handy little horse around, disappearing into the woods with the Guard in pursuit.

Ehren ignored the pain shooting through his limb-whipped leg and sent Shaffron after them, keeping him to a high-stepping trot once they turned off the path, wary of ambush— if the Guard was smarter than he looked, he'd stop his pursuit, pull off to the side, and attack as Ehren rode by.

But Ehren met no one coming through the trees, and when the Barrenlands were within sight, he slowed Shaffron to dance a high-stepping trot in place. Through the brush, he saw Laine cantering a wide circle within the Barrenlands— one that would bring him back to his point of entry. He seemed to be missing one stirrup entirely, but other than that looked unaffected by his mad dash through the woods. The guard who'd pursued him hesitated at the border, his horse fighting the bit, clearly weighing the idea of following. If Laine could do it...

Ehren grinned. A shift of his seat, and Shaffron opened up into a full gallop. He reached the Guard just as the man realized he was coming, and Shaffron body checked the other horse squarely in the shoulder, sending him staggering into the Barrenlands.

The man clutched his horse's mane and missed; he tumbled to the ground, screaming— or, at least, his mouth was open and his face contorted, although Ehren heard nothing from within the ochre lands. The man stopped screaming only when he started retching; by then Laine had circled around to dismount. He dropped his reins to the ground and kicked aside the man's sword, then stood looking at the Guard, at a momentary loss. Finally he shrugged and reached down to grab the man's booted ankles, dragging him toward the border.

Ehren dismounted and met him at the border, taking an ankle for his own. The man's screams broke the air as his head crossed the border, then abruptly cut off. "Guides have mercy," he babbled repetitively, until Ehren grew tired of it and rested his sword tip firmly on the man's chest. Then the babbling cut off, too, replaced by gasping, which Ehren could hardly fault him for.

"I've got him." Ehren nodded at the Barrenlands. "Get your horse. See if you can get his, too."

It wasn't much of a task; the Guard's horse cantered aimlessly in the same circle Laine had taken, and seemed more than pleased to find a human that might give it guidance. While he was gone, Ehren sent a sharp whistle into the air. With any luck, the mule would follow Ricasso, and they wouldn't lose any of their supplies.

When Laine emerged from the Barrenlands and Ehren heard Ricasso making his way back to them, he turned his full attention back to their captive. "Suppose you tell me what this is all about."

"No," the man said, but it came out as a moan, and without any defiance at all. He lay on his back on the ground, looking wrung out. Unresisting.

"No?" Ehren said, leaning on the sword, taking the weight from his leg.

"Guides, Ehren, not another one," Laine said, sounding a little desperate. When Ehren glanced at him, he looked immediately abashed. "I mean..."

"Never mind." Ehren cut him off sharply, his thoughts, as Laine's, going back to that night at the T'ieranguard inn and the man who had died under questioning. "
Is
it, Laine?
Is
it another one?"

Laine blinked, and then caught on. He looked down at the man again, his face suddenly gone distracted; when he winced, it was all the answer Ehren needed. "Don't say anything," he ordered the Guard, taking all his weight off the sword, which had only cut through the first layer of the man's stained brigandine.

Ehren stared pensively at the man a moment. He'd not be part of that gruesome death again, not if he could help it. But he needed to know what he was walking into

The ochre-smeared brown of Barrenlands, just feet away, caught his eye. No man's magic worked in there, not even personal things that were otherwise part of him. Nothing but the dispensation spell.

"What do you suppose would happen if we were to go back in there," he nodded at the border, "with this one between us? Would our protection extend to him?"

Laine looked startled. "I don't have any idea. It didn't work when we dragged him out. Maybe flesh to flesh..."

Ehren looked again at the Barrenlands, and gave a decisive nod. "Let's find out. Give me a hand." Without removing his sword, he reached down and caught his knife in a fold of the man's sleeve, slicing it open. He closed his hand around the spot and straightened. After a moment's hesitation, Laine did the same at the other side; it was only when they'd dragged him a step that the man came out of his dazed state and realized what was going on.

With a howl, he twisted in their grip, fighting to stay out of the Barrenlands. He cursed and gibbered and even tried to bite, but they were only steps away and the Barrenlands immediately closed around them.

As soon as he realized they'd crossed over, he froze, his face screwed up in anticipation of the utter disorientation. Ehren and Laine exchanged a glance and gently lowered him to the ground, kneeling so they could maintain contact. After a moment, one of the man's eyes opened slightly, then closed just as quickly.

"You're all right," Ehren told him. "And you'll stay all right, as long as we're holding on to you. So I wouldn't try to get away if I were you."

"No," the man said, his eyes still closed. "I'm not gonna move— just don't— don't let go!"

"I don't have any plans to," Ehren said. "Unless, of course, you don't feel like talking to us."

The man struggled with this a moment, and then the words burst out in a rush. "I can't! Don't let go!"

"Relax," Ehren told him. "You're under some kind of spell, am I right? Something that will kill you if you talk about your orders?"

This time the man opened his eyes, and they held surprise. "Yes, and it's no bluff. I know of one man who already died."

"So do we." Ehren shifted his weight so he could straighten his sore leg, causing the man to stiffen in alarm. "Stop it. I said I wouldn't let go yet, and I won't. But I need you to talk to me."

"We think you're safe in here," Laine added. "Nothing works in this place, no magic but the dispensation spell."

"You
think?
" the man asked incredulously.

Ehren's grip tightened on his arm. "You were the one who came after me— and you're the one who lost the fight. We're doing our best to protect you, but make no mistake... I
will
walk away and leave you here if you don't start talking to me, and I won't wait much longer."

Their captive paled a few shades lighter, his skin a sickening yellow in the reflective light. Laine didn't look all that much better as he watched Ehren, question in his eyes.
Would you really?

Yes
. Ehren met that question evenly, and turned back to the erstwhile Guard. "I want to know who sent you, how you found us, and exactly what you were supposed to do with us."

The man closed his eyes, swallowed with effort, and said carefully, "It's
you
we were looking for." He paused, and took a deep breath, trembling beneath Ehren's grip. And nothing happened. Ehren gave him the time, and after a moment, the man looked up again. "It... it was the ring," he said tentatively, and paused again. The next time he spoke, his voice was stronger. "We have a ring that's been keyed to yours. Adlin has it... is he dead?"

"He wasn't when I left him," Ehren said. "Keep talking and you might have a chance to find out."

"We... we've been at the border for more than a week. He knew you were in Therand, and
where
— he must have guessed you'd try to go through the Barrenlands. We were supposed to bring you in, in disgrace... if you lived through the taking."

"
He?
" Ehren stabbed the word at their captive like a knife point, and the man winced as though it had struck home.

Hesitantly, in a voice barely loud enough to call a whisper, he said, "Varien."

Ehren nodded.
Varien
. Of course, Varien. Not that he hadn't suspected it, believed it…in his heart, known it. The man had warned him what would happen if he failed this assignment and returned to Kurtane a liability.

He looked down at the man and his renewed trembling. "You're still alive."

"I... I don't know how long it would take..."

"We do," Ehren assured him flatly. "And it's not going to happen. Are you truly a Guard?"

"Adlin is...
was
. He went through half the training and was mustered out for his temper. Varien got in touch with him, offered him an assignment, and then a sweeter deal if he could round up some others to help... that's where I came in. I think... he didn't say so, but I'm almost certain... he already had people placed in Therand."

"He used to." Ehren wiped his sword on the man's leg, sheathed it, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "All right," he said. "Varien's annoyed at me, no big surprise. I
am
surprised he kept such close tabs on me, and that he'd bother to send anyone for me. If he can track me through the ring, he'd have seen I was heading for Kurtane, anyway."

Laine just shrugged at him, sympathetic and unhelpful.

Ehren shook his head, mostly to himself. "He can't have any idea what we know."

Someone in Kurtane is smuggling mage lure through a Barrenlands pass only a magic-user can withstand.

Varien, of course— Ehren was well convinced of that. If the man wasn't running the smuggling, he certainly had a hand in it. But knew none of what they'd discovered. At most, Varien knew only that Ehren hadn't yet triggered the ring— and obviously, that he was on his way back to Kurtane.

If he'd been as disagreeable as all that to the ministers, why not simply discharge him? Or, as Varien had strongly hinted they might, have him killed in the first place?

You don't get killed for stepping on toes. You get killed for being a genuine threat
.

One hundred years ago, Coirra, Varien's mentor, had cursed the T'ierans in a last-ditch effort to keep the Barrenlands intact.
To protect mage lure smuggling even then
?

One year ago, Benlan had been on the verge of renewing diplomatic ties to Therand; he'd been on the verge of learning about the smuggling through Hetna's journal. Now Benlan was dead and Ehren was hunting Benlan's murderers. And Varien wanted him dead.

You get killed for being a genuine threat
.

Varien, protecting his interests. Benlan, murdered
. And Ehren, the only one truly looking for answers.

Ehren clamped down on the cold rage growling in his throat. But he met Laine's questioning look without offering any answers, and turned abruptly to their captive. "You'll leave your ailettes, brigandines, and weapons with me," he told the man. "If your friend's still alive, you can take him to the closest surgeon. And if I see you again, I'll kill you first, ask questions later. Understood?"

Mutely, the man nodded, his gaze darting between Ehren's no-nonsense finality and Laine's wary concern, the protest on his face but not quite voiced.

"On your feet, then." Stiffly, Ehren gained his own feet, careful not to lose his hold on the man. They walked the few feet to Solvany, where Ehren released his grip and stood, waiting pointedly.

With a single resentful glance, the man unlaced his brigandine and struggled out of it, still bearing his shapeless, quilted gambeson. His sword lay on the ground by the border; he made no move to pick it up. His horse waited, tied to a springy limb it had stripped of leaves; the man took a hesitant step toward it, realized no one would stop him, and wasted no time in mounting up and riding out.

Laine went to fetch his mule, which rustled in the brush not far from them. Ehren checked Ricasso's girth, pondering how much distance they could make in what remained of the day... mulling over what they'd learned. What in the Hells was Varien up to? And why was Laine, returned with the mule, closing his deep blue eye to look at Ehren like that?

Ehren stopped in mid-thought to look at Laine,
really
look at him, and to see the hesitancy that had sprouted there. "Spit it out, Laine."