Beyond the Prophecy (26 page)

Vatar sat with the others in the main room of Orleus’s
house—well, Orleus’s and Quetza’s now. The structures in Tysoe felt like a
compromise between Caere and the Dardani huts at Zeda. Wooden structures, but
with sod built up around the lower part of the wall—and on the roof. This
provided insulation, but still allowed for windows, which could be thrown open
in good weather—like now.

He and Balan and Zoridan occupied a similar cabin—as far
away from the lake as possible. That annoyed Balan. As far as Vatar was
concerned, if the boy insisted on going for a swim—Vatar suppressed a shudder
at the idea—every morning and evening, he could walk the distance to the
lakeshore. So long as Vatar didn’t have to hear the lapping of the water when
he tried to sleep.

Vatar would have expected Tysoe to be more like Caere. It
wasn’t just the buildings that were different. Unlike Caere’s narrow, stuffy
streets, the houses here were set so far apart that it was difficult to see the
nearest through the trees. At least as far apart as the farmhouses outside
Caere’s walls—and with less organization. Even outside Caere’s walls, there
were at least wagon roads that lent a sense of order to the outlying farms.
Here, it looked like the citizens had just randomly chosen unoccupied spaces to
build their houses on. Which, apart from Orleus’s Tysoean Guard, was a fair
reflection of Tysoe itself. As far as Vatar could tell, even the small Tysoean
Council didn’t even attempt anything like a central authority.

The main room of Orleus’s house was sparsely furnished with
wooden benches and a long table. The window coverings and plush rug looked like
Quetza’s influence, just as Thekila had added such niceties to their home in
Caere.

Vatar sighed. He was more than ready to start back to that
refuge—and to Thekila and the children. Based on Thekila’s reports, Arcas should
be arriving at Tysoe any day now. Couldn’t be soon enough.

Meanwhile, he joined the others for Zoria’s regular report,
as conveyed by Zoridan. There hadn’t been much to relate so far. Less than
Quetza could discover by her regular fly-overs.

Well, except for the odd news that there were next to no
women in the Exiles’ camp. Not Exile women. Not Themyri women. Not even
Lorania, who Zoria had hoped would help her gain the Exiles’ trust. Orleus had
concluded that the Exiles must have a more secure base somewhere, but Zoria
couldn’t seem to get—or wouldn’t divulge—that information and not even Quetza
had been able to find it so far. Either the Exiles didn’t trust Zoria as much
as she’d hoped, or she wasn’t reporting everything she knew. Vatar wished he knew
which it was.

“They’re planning something for tomorrow,” Zoridan repeated.
“Loran and the others don’t tell me much, but Platan let it slip. I think
they’re going to try for the ford again. Since seeing Vatar there, Loran has
been almost obsessed with getting back there to try to find him. Nertan
disagreed, I think. But Wartan’s still hot for Vatar’s blood because of Keran.
I think he won.”

“How many?” Orleus asked and then waited impatiently for
Zoridan to relay the question and Zoria’s reply.

“Just a scouting party, I think. No more than ten or twelve.
Nertan has forbidden Loran to go, so Platan will be in charge.” Zoridan broke
off his recitation to snort, clearly speaking for himself. “That’s practically
a guarantee of disaster. Platan was never much good for anything but
following.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Quetza scolded him. “Right now,
we need to get as much information as we can, quickly, so Zoria doesn’t
inadvertently give herself away.”

“That’s almost all I know,” Zoridan went back to reciting
what Zoria told him. “Platan said they’d be leaving early. Before dawn. That’s
it.”

Orleus blew out his breath, clearly ready to end the
session.

“Wait.”
Vatar said to him through Far Speech, so the
others couldn’t hear. “
This might be a chance to find out for sure if Zoria
is passing on all she knows. Or if she’s really working for the Exiles.”

Orleus’s eyes narrowed and nodded almost imperceptibly. “I
suppose we should just be glad they don’t know about the other ford, only a
mile from the edge of the Forest. That one would be much harder to defend.” He
waited while Zoridan relayed that.

Quetza opened her mouth, but Orleus raised his hand for
silence.

“Yes,” Zoridan repeated. “It’s good they don’t know that.”

“All right. Thank you, Zoria,” Orleus said.

Zoridan blinked as he broke the connection.

Orleus shook his head. “Not much to go on.”

Vatar reached over to the map spread out on the table. He
placed one finger on the approximate location of the ford, and with his other hand
marked Zeda. “If they get across the ford . . .”

“If they do,” Orleus said, “there’s still a long way between
there and the Dardani. And, for a group mostly on foot, without knowledge of
where to find the waterholes, it’s a dangerous distance, too. A mere scouting
party, without a clear idea of where they were going, would almost certainly
turn back long before they reached Zeda. I’m more worried about them finding a
way to get behind us. If they could establish a base on the far side of the
river, we’d be forced to fight on two fronts. And I can’t spare the men to be
constantly patrolling the river.”

“Then we have to stop them before they get that far,” Quetza
said. “Preferably before they even get close to the ford or the river.”

“The Gna River isn’t as deep as the Maat, but I think I can
swim the river at least every two or three days as far as the ford, if that
would help.” Balan mimed the sinuous movement of his otter avatar with his
hand. “Beyond that, it’s not really deep enough for me. At least not at this
time of year. So I can’t get to this other ford you mentioned.”

Orleus glanced toward Quetza and shook his head slightly.
“Your scouting will be a help of course. I’ll send scouts to watch the other
ford, just in case. But we still need to stop this expedition tomorrow.”

“Easy enough for me to fly over and get a better look,”
Quetza said. “Knowing the route they’re taking will help you choose your
ground. I’d need to fly over in any case. We want them thinking that I spotted
them from the air, not that we had inside information from anyone. Zoria’s too
obvious a suspect if they ever think that.”

“Can I help with that?” Zoridan asked eagerly.

Quetza shook her head. “Not this time. Soaring over open
ground is more complicated than using the rising air currents in the
mountains.”

“Best you all go get some rest,” Orleus said. “Vatar, I’d
like you to stay a moment.”

When the other two had gone, Quetza leaned forward. “All
right, what was that about? There is no ford near the edge of the Forest that
I’ve ever seen.”

“No, there’s not,” Orleus said. “But Vatar pointed out that
this was a good opportunity to verify Zoria’s true loyalties. I will send
scouts in that direction. One of the few who can communicate with me by Far
Speech. If there’s no activity there, and Platan shows up where she said . . .”
He glanced toward Vatar. “Well, in that case, I think it’s time we stop
worrying about whether or not to trust Zoria.”

Vatar nodded, accepting this.

Orleus’s expression turned grim. “On the other hand, if
there is a move toward the nonexistent ford, we might have to start questioning
how much we trust Balan, and especially Zoridan.”

~

Vatar joined the others before dawn the next morning to
follow Orleus and a troop of his best riders. Quetza was already barely a white
speck in the eastern sky. Orleus watched that speck with a slightly worried
frown before he raised his hand and the troop moved out. They rode generally
east, turning only slightly south to avoid riding directly into the glare of
the rising sun.

Vatar, riding beside his half-brother, saw Orleus’s eyes
lose focus periodically. No doubt receiving Far Speech updates from Quetza. No
white speck was currently visible in the bright eastern sky.

Finally, Orleus held up a hand to stop the column. He waited
a moment for his sergeant to join them. “According to Quetza, we have about
twice their numbers. They’re making for the gap between the Willow Thicket
Outpost and the Disappearing Pool Outpost.”

The sergeant frowned. “There’s no cover in that area. And
the land’s flat as camp bread.”

Orleus looked into the distance for a moment, as if
summoning the area in his mind’s eye—or examining it with Far Sight. A grin
slowly spread across his face. “Yes, it is. And we’re going to use that to our
advantage.”

“Eh?” the sergeant grunted.

“It will take a bit of coordination to time it right.
Fortunately, we have an eagle’s—or a wyvern’s eye view—to help us with that.
We’re going to ride across that gap—at precisely the right moment—exactly as if
we were making a regular patrol of the area,” Orleus said.

“There are no regular patrols there. We haven’t the men,”
the sergeant objected.

Orleus’s grin turned slightly smug. “Yes. But
they
don’t know that. We’re going to be very surprised that our boring, routine patrol
has actually turned up something. And then we’re going to give chase. I want
them to believe that this area is much too thoroughly manned for them to make
another attempt. We want them to stay on the other side, where we only have to
fight them on one front. And we’ll still have Balan’s patrol from the river to
help us make sure it stays that way.”

Vatar grinned. “I like it. Do you think it’ll work?”

“If we time it right, I don’t see why not.” Orleus bit his
lip and studied his party. “Vatar, you and Balan and Zoridan had better stay to
the rear. If they recognize any of you, it could defeat the whole purpose.”

Vatar narrowed his eyes, but finally nodded. He didn’t have
to like it, but Orleus was right. If Platan spotted him—or any Valson he might
recognize—that would only give the Exiles more incentive to keep looking for
him. It might also make them suspicious about Zoria, who did actually seem to
be doing her best to relay accurate information. “All right.”

“We’ve been training to fight all this time,” Balan
objected.

Orleus shrugged. “Sorry. It might have been a mistake to
bring you along on this one. But you can’t be recognized. If the Exiles realize
you’re here—and why you’re here—it might endanger Zoria.”

Balan grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe we
shouldn’t have come on this patrol.”

“It’s all right,” Orleus reassured him. “Just stay to the
back. I don’t have any intention of letting them get close enough to recognize
any of us. This is just a precaution.”

They set out again, Orleus regulating their speed to arrive
at his chosen battleground at the same time as Platan’s group. The original
plan had called for Quetza to make herself obvious as she spotted and tracked
the enemy. Instead, she stayed high up, hiding in the sun to make herself as
invisible as possible while still relaying information to Orleus. Vatar had to
squint to spot her, even knowing where to look. With luck, Orleus’s deception
would work.

As they neared their objective, Orleus sent scouts out to
both sides, even knowing that there was nothing for the scouts on the left side
of the column to find. Appearances were everything if this was to work. Vatar
and the two Valson stayed back in the scant cover offered by a thin row of
trees growing along a dry wash.

The scout on the right—the southward side—gave a shout. Even
from his position, Vatar could almost feel Orleus counting off so he wouldn’t
appear to react too quickly. Then Orleus signaled and the whole column wheeled
to meet the outnumbered Exiles.

For a moment the much-less-disciplined group of Themyri
hesitated, staring at Orleus’s troop in horror. Only two riders and a dozen
Themyri on foot suddenly faced with two dozen mounted warriors bearing down on
them. The lead rider—presumably Platan—raised his bow and fired an arrow.
Orleus’s scout slumped in his saddle, but didn’t fall. Another arrow fell short
of Orleus’s patrol. Then the enemy riders spun their horses about and kicked
them into a gallop away from this new threat. The Themyri looked after them for
only an instant before
they
, too, broke and ran.

Orleus led the pursuit, just fast enough to be taken
seriously but not—quite—fast enough to actually catch the running enemy. Two of
his troops slowed their horses to fire arrows at the fleeing Themyri.

Balan and Zoridan leaned forward intently, probably wishing
they could join the chase. Vatar just hoped no one else, besides the scout, got
hurt.

A nearby shout from the right startled them all. Vatar
whirled to see three riders—all redheads—coming up from a bend in the dry wash,
charging straight for them. Vatar cursed. They’d have seen the riders, if they
hadn’t been so focused in the wrong direction. And if they’d been closer to
Orleus, they might have known that there were more Exiles around. Though either
Orleus or Quetza might have spared the time to warn them by Far Speech.

Zoridan and Balan started to dismount so they could
Transform
.

“No,” Vatar said. “These aren’t Themyri to be so easily
driven off. And your avatars are too distinctive.” He hefted his spear, cursed,
and tossed it to Balan. “Use this if you have to. But only if they get past me.
There’s more to using a lance from horseback than you think.”

Vatar rode out toward the enemy and vaulted from the saddle,
shifting to his lion avatar as he landed. He raised he head and roared at the
approaching horsemen, pacing toward them. The riders, all Exiles, didn’t seem
too impressed. As Valson, they would all have seen many shape changes before.
Their horses, on the other hand, did not like having an irate lion suddenly
appear in front of them any more than Vatar’s horse did. All four horses
bolted. Vatar’s ran back toward his companions, where he hoped one of them
would have enough sense to catch it. The other three spun, their riders
clinging desperately to their necks, and ran back the way they’d come.