Dragon Choir (5 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Outrider

Minni paced her
scouting just as the sergeant ordered. Better to keep him happy for
the moment. She surveyed the road ahead of the wagons searching for
signs of covered tracks or careless prints. Orc raiders would claim
unwary caravans travelling through the pass. She doubted a hunting
party would take on a heavily guarded convoy though; orcs were not
as stupid as men made out.

Humans, on the
other hand—they were brazen enough. The real danger were
highwaymen. A couple of wagons in a train might be irresistible;
the more guards, the more it was worth. Like Minni, they would love
to have what the wagons carried.

The Council of
Jando rattled sabres and the Guilds of Calimska soured tariffs.
Tensions between the two powerful cities were building. Yet
something else lurked beneath. Things were going on in the shadows
and Minni had not been able to figure it out. Shipments of black
powder had increased travelling to Rum Hill since the last moon.
They knew the shipments sailed on to Jando. The rebels had eyes and
ears all up the coast and nobody could tell Minni what Jando and
Calimska were up to.

The road cut
around the foothills up into the mountains. The miles peeled away
into late afternoon with only a trickle of late season merchants
heading for Calimska. In places the surface was washed out and pot
holed, making her lie about the rainy weather seem true enough. The
drivers were thankful for her earlier advice and encouraged her to
ride with the wagons for some conversation—and likely, the fair
view.

“
Keep your eyes on the road fools,” shouted the guard
sergeant, riding up from behind. “And you ... do your job, woman.
Quit your seductions, get up that range and find out what’s
ahead.”

Minni wished
to kill him now. She could do it if she wanted to. Most of the
guards were still pickled. The sergeant might be a problem, but if
she picked them off from a distance it would not be too difficult.
No, that would be foolish. Minni would wait; patience was how they
would win this campaign, she would see the plan through.

The collector
hiding away in the rear wagon was a concern. If he were a messenger
for her, why hadn’t he contacted her earlier in Calimska? She was
there long enough. She hoped the stowaway was just another youth
running from an unsavoury apprenticeship. Whatever the reason, he’d
be run through if he was found out; Jandan officers had no
compassion. She’d see to him when they made camp. Food and water
and some pointed conversation. He might have some useful
information and could make an ideal recruit in any case.

They made good
time through the pass, only at the cost of their draft horses. The
poor animals’ condition declined with the increasing grade and the
relentless pace set by the guard sergeant. He allowed no breaks to
feed or water them, none even to rest their legs and catch a
breath. Chilled wind from the northern peaks blew down the old
road, sapping the warmth from the sun, dimming her mood even
more.

At the head of
the pass the road thinned and the mountains rose on either side
like a great rocky fence. The Calimskan outpost was wedged in
between. It guarded Stoneheart’s Bridge, the only safe access from
the coast to Calimska and the many lands of the West. The bridge
spanned the frigid waters of the ancient River Hiron, which melted
off the Ice Peak Mountains far to the north, carving a treacherous
course from stone to sea. The outpost tower huddled close to the
mountainside as though it were afraid to look up to the peaks or
down into the rapids far below. The natural geography of the
mountain pass and the river gorge gave the outpost a perfect
defensive position.

Minni stopped
at the checkpoint with the wagons. Two pillars barred the way to
the bridge, each made of interlocking stone blocks. The foundations
of both were encircled with magical sigils, carved out of the
stone. Calimskan soldiers gathered beside a brazier, playing cards
on a small table.

The air around
the pillars hardened with the proximity of the wagons and dancing
arcs of energy began to play across the sigils. High on the tower
battlements, a thick-faced man in brown woollen robes watched them.
It was Stoneheart, the guardian of the pass.

The Jandans
were tense. The wagon guard near Minni moved his hand to the
crossbow slung at his side. Stoneheart paid the Jandans no mind; he
was interested only in the wagons and the toll. His eyes tunnelled
down, hesitating at the last wagon for just a moment.

The sergeant
rode forward holding out a large purse to one of the soldiers by
the brazier. The soldier checked its contents and placed the bag on
a set of scales. The toll was of sufficient weight and he nodded up
to Stoneheart.

Without a
word, the earth mage plunged his arms into the stone battlements.
The ground vibrated and the two pillars blocking their way
transformed. Each stone block tumbled apart then reassembled into
two golems, both larger than a wagon on end. They shifted their
immense forms to the side allowing the wagons to pass. The bridge
across the river was made of stone like that of the golems. Large
and small blocks fused together flawlessly in a complex
pattern.

Minni led the
wagon train across the span without delay. She hated crossing this
damn bridge. Stoneheart’s will bore them safely, but at any moment
could pummel them with stones, set the giant golems on them or drop
them to their deaths. What if the old bastard was having a bad day?
Stoneheart’s bridge stole all control from her and that was not a
feeling she appreciated.

Riding down
the range might have improved the horses’ spirits had the sergeant
not pushed the wagon train so hard. He swore and cursed at his
drivers, goading the men to whip their horses bloody to outrun the
closing fingers of night. The Great Dividing Range behind them cast
an early dusk across the woodland below and long shadows swallowed
the road. The silhouette of the mountain peaks cut against the
orange and peach sunset like black blades.

After a long
scout down into the forest without any sign of bandits, Minni
returned to the wagons.

“
The bridge across Dayglow Creek is down,” she told the
sergeant. “Might be best to make camp here and try a different way
at first light.”

“
Hells to that. There must be another way past.”

“
There’s an old track that splits off before it. That’ll take
us across upstream, but it might be harder for the wagons at night.
I think we should stop and camp by the stream. Rest the
horses.”

“
Quit wasting time and earn your keep, witch. Scout
upstream.”

“
You might not make it through,” Minni baited.

“
Do you want a lash? We'll not stop in these damned dark woods
with a witches moon on the rise.”

The team of
wagons proceeded, and when they reached the fork, Minni guided the
lead wagon to the smaller trail off to the side of the main
road.

She called to
the lead driver. “There are a few dips, but nothing like the range
before. Slippery though, so take it easy.”

The track was
clear and she urged her horse into a trot; she knew this track well
by dark or by day. She came to the stream and dismounted, leading
her horse to the slow rolling water to drink. Out of sight, Minni
pulled a mouthpiece from her saddlebag and blew into it twice,
sounding an ibis call into the shadows of the forest. After a short
pause a call echoed back from the shadows across the stream. Minni
blew again, elaborating a complex series of honks. She paused. The
ibis called again followed by the wook wook of two barking owls on
one side of the path. Then came the whistle and zip of a
bristlebird from the other side.

Minni mounted
again and rode back to the wagons making their way down the path to
the stream.

“
Clear ahead,” she called to the first driver. “I’ll wait on
the other side of the stream to guide you through.”

The driver
nodded and kept on.

The wagons
came down the small slope taking care not to wedge the wheels
burdened by the heavy load in the sand. The lead wagon entered the
water and the horses pulled it across the creek. Once the wagon’s
front wheels passed safely out the other side, the sergeant called
the rear wagon to proceed down the slope.

Minni made a
loud ibis call from her mouthpiece.

A rope sprung
out of the sand and stretched tight, trapping the back axle of the
lead wagon. The driver cracked his whip across the horses. The
wagon lurched forward, but could not pull the wheels clear. Now at
the bottom of the slope, the rear wagon was wedged in; neither
could manoeuvre their way out.

The guard
sergeant began yelling commands to his men, but was silenced by an
arrow piercing his throat. Arrows danced from the shadows, taking
the life of each man with silent accuracy. There was no opportunity
for defence, no possibility of a counterattack. The only sound that
remained after the short cries of the fallen was the restless
murmur of the creek, playing the blood of the dead away into the
darkness.

Shadows in the
forest stretched forward, gathering around the wagons. The rising
moon revealed men and women of motley height and build camouflaged
in mud and ferns. They set to work. Each performed their task in
silence, bow and blade slung to their backs. Some dragged bodies to
litter bearers who took the dead into the forest. Others cleaned
the blood spilled on the wagons and steadied the horses.

Men in Jandan
uniform emerged from the shadows as if the fresh dead had risen.
They took up the positions of the former Jandan guard. A woman
draped in an ochre poncho approached the horses. She whispered to
each in turn, stroking their damp manes and offering them each a
blue fruit. Minni’s horse devoured the fruit quickly and nuzzled
for more.

Once each
horse received her attention she waded into the creek singing,
water lapping at her thighs. She knelt down and dipped her body
under. The song continued as she raised her head, water cascading
over her body. Thin fabric clung to her delicate curves in the
light of the lonely moon, her hands raised to the sky gathering
light in each palm. Bringing them together in a cup she drew water
from the stream and drank deeply. Moonlight rippled across her
body, shimmering as though she had become water herself. She spread
her arms in the direction of the horses and her song altered. Her
voice blended with the murmur of the creek until all became quiet.
Moonlight cascaded from her hands and enveloped the horses.

Energy rushed
from the forest towards the ochre woman. The charged air gathered
with the scent of a breaking storm. The water bubbled and whirled,
drawing into the wild mage’s body until the creek drained to
nothing, leaving her kneeling in damp sand. The woman dropped her
hands and the magical light faded from around the horses. She
slumped and waited in the sand. The water returned, replenished
from upstream and she stood slowly, singing softly, returning to
the forest.

***

A tall thin man
approached Minni after the wagons were pulled to the other side of
the creek.

“
Only watching this time. Why so?”

“
Your crew is too fast, Wendal. I had my eye on sparring with
the sweet sergeant. You never leave anything for sport. Never any
time for play.”

“
This is no game.”

“
And yet you enjoy it so.”

“
Death is enough for the Jandans. No more.”

Minni alighted
from her mare with a chuckle. “You are too serious. You won’t let
me have any fun with you.” She rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled
out a leather pouch and threw it to Wendal.

He opened it
and pulled out a handful of painted figurines. Wendal’s face
creased with a smile.

“
Minella, I thank you.”

“
I know how much you love moving your pieces about on a map.
Though, I can’t see how it will improve your work any; this job was
perfect. You need another hobby.”

“
Without Jaspa we must be extra cautious. What if they have
him and are keeping it quiet? What if they already know our
plans?”

Minni laughed.
“The Jandans don’t have Jaspa. If they did he’d be dead and they’d
be singing in the cathedral so loud we’d hear it from here.”

“
How are you so sure?” Wendal studied her face. “Have you
received word?”

“
No. You?”

“
Nothing.” Wendal shifted his feet. “Is Delik up to
this?”

“
It’s just a little hijack, Wendal.”

“
Hardly.
This
was a little hijack. That ... That will be a bloody
miracle.”

“
Are you a believer now? Got an angel hiding
somewhere?”

“
Please, be wary. Kobb has no master except his ego. He’d turn
for a title; might have turned already. If they’ve bagged Jaspa,
then you and Delik are next. You’re vulnerable
together.”

“
At least if all goes to ash, you’ve got new figurines. Who
better to lead than you?” Minella winked at Wendal and mounted her
horse.

Wendal frowned
and returned to the wagons to talk to his men. Minni knew he was
right. Honest Wendal; he never bothered with sweet lies. A lifetime
digesting bitter truth had diminished his humour. He was a good
friend, a true friend. It was wicked of her to toy with him. Minni
thought of hollering something nice, but it would only embarrass
him.