“Here,” she said, roughly pushing the small bottle into Wyl’s hand. “It’s all yours.” He took several sips and felt the numbing sensation begin to ease the pain. He made Gueryn take a few sips as well. It would not touch the fever but it would ease the pain of his other hurts.
“Silence.” Lothryn cautioned as he and Wyl virtually carried Gueryn between them.
The early hour worked in their favor. The castle was only lightly guarded, such was Cailech’s faith in his Mountain fortress’s impregnability. Very few Morgravians even knew of its existence save what the old stories told and even fewer would know how to reach it. Most would die with an arrow through their throats anyway, for Cailech posted keen-eyed lookouts throughout the passes that gave access to the fortress.
For now the small group tiptoed by several fallen guards, presumably sleeping off the same drug Lothryn had used on the dungeon guards.
“I’ve tipped off the gatekeeper that I will be leaving with three of our men. Remain silent. I will do the talking. Elspyth, keep your hair under that hood and face covered. We are all dead if they suspect anything.”
Wyl whispered to Gueryn, “You’d better keep your head covered too.” Lothryn had planned well. They wore the special hooded cloak favored by the Mountain Dwellers for travel in the higher parts. That hood would serve them brilliantly now, they all hoped.
“Are we trying to do this on foot?” Wyl whispered.
“No. Horses have been readied. Can he ride, do you think?”
“Don’t talk around me as though I’m senile. I can ride. Ride the breeches off both of you—even without sight!” Gueryn growled as they both shushed him.
Lothryn led them to stables, where a young lad was rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Very late for you to be heading out. Loth.” the boy said.
“Secret mission, lad. I told you. Now you must keep that quiet, remember. Tell no one. all right?”
“Not even the King, Loth?” the boy joked.
“He’ll know,” Lothryn replied and they all imagined the cold touch of Cailech’s wrath reaching out to them already.
Lothryn kept the nosy stableboy distracted with a request to adjust his horse’s saddle straps while the others mounted. Somehow Gueryn managed to clamber onto his horse himself, slumping into the saddle.
Elspyth’s foot slipped in the stirrup but fear made her quick to scramble up, while Wyl managed easily enough with no pain to hamper his movements. He had little doubt, however, that his rib would be aching again before sunrise.
Lothryn whispered some final parting words to the lad and then waved a silent farewell. The boy responded in kind and then yawned, heading back into the stable.
“That was the easy bit.” Lothryn muttered to Wyl. “Just follow my lead now.” Walking the horses softly out of the stables complex, Lothryn led them to the gatehouse. They pulled their hoods even deeper over their faces as they approached.
“Ho!” Lothryn called to the man whose sleepy head poked out of the window.
“What do you call this then?” the guard asked.
“Apologies, Dorl, for the late hour. We are on the King’s business.”
“Oh, yes, and what might that be, Lothryn?”
“Never you mind that nose of yours, Dorl. It will get you into trouble one of these days,” Lothryn replied, amusement in his voice.
Dorl responded in kind. “It’s my job to be nosy.”
“Yes, but not about Cailech’s private business.”
“All right, all right. Give me a moment. I’m off for my supper, just waiting for the relief.”
“Who takes over?” Wyl asked conversationally, taking Lothryn’s lead and firmly believing that three silent riders might be construed as suspicious.
Dorl was not paying attention anyway. He was already occupied with cranking the wheel which would open the gate. “I think Bore is on his way down,” he called out in answer. Wyl and Lothryn threw each other a meaningful glance. Bore would be a problem. “Although I heard there was some problem at the feast. That he had been hurt or something?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Lothryn lied. “Come on, Dorl. Put your back into it!” They heard him make some deprecating noise at Lothryn’s comment and the gate slowly began to ascend, protesting with creaks.
Lothryn was not prepared to risk waiting any longer and clicked his horse to move on. The animal was reluctant until the gate opened fully but the rider insisted and the beast obeyed, ducking its head. Elspyth was next and was relieved her mount simply followed the lead horse.
“Haldor’s Wrath, but you’re in a hurry,” Dorl called out.
“King’s business can rarely wait,” Lothryn called back, hoping Gueryn would take the hint and follow next.
He did so and Wyl brought up the rear, lifting his hand in thanks to the gatekeeper.
“Haldor guide you,” he hailed at their backs.
Lothryn replied in similar fashion and felt relief flood through himself as the gate began a quicker descent.
“Ride!” he said over his shoulder to his companions and they broke into a canter over the rocky ground and through the first pass. “Don’t look down. Elspyth.” he cautioned.
“I won’t,” she called grimly, holding the reins and staring at the back of the Mountain Man.
“Do you think they’ll follow?” Wyl called to Lothryn.
“Of course they will. Cailech will track us forever now.” It was probably fifteen or so minutes later that Wyl heard hooves behind them. He yelled to Lothryn.
grateful he could see some flatter, open ground for a while. “Run for it!” No one needed to be told again. The four horses were spurred into a gallop. Wyl calling guidance to Gueryn. who seemed fearless despite his blindness. His horse obediently followed the lead horses and. as the companions’ hoods blew off and their identities were revealed beneath a full moon, they heard the roar of anger behind them as Bore tried to shorten their lead. He was brandishing a sword and Lothryn had no choice but to pull his own from its scabbard and turn back to meet the howling man head on.
Wyl turned back too but felt helpless without a weapon. The others slowed their horses and Elspyth took Gueryn off to the relative safety of a craggy overhang. Wyl yelled to Lothryn to give him the sword.
“Don’t fight your own man. Let me. I’ve reason to kill him. You don’t.”
“I have no intention of killing.” Lothryn yelled back.
“I understand. Let me,” Wyl begged, mindful of how hard this betrayal was for Lothryn.
Lothryn finally tossed the sword to Wyl, who grabbed it effortlessly from the air and then jumped from his horse. He had only a moment’s time to gather his wits before Bore was upon his fellow tribesman, determined to slay him. He swung at Lothryn’s head with his sword, only just missing, and if not for the distraction of Wyl running at him with a weapon, might have finished the attempt with a second swing.
Instead, he jumped to the ground to face Wyl.
“You traitor!” Bore yelled at Lothryn as he circled his new opponent. “How could you betray us?”
“Because Cailech is wrong!”
“Wrong to kill the enemy?”
“Wrong to murder innocents.”
“Since when have you cared about a Morgravian soul?”
Wyl allowed them this time. As Bore continued to circle him. Wyl could already see that his opponent was clumsy by comparison to his own silky skills. Bore, he anticipated, would simply rush at him. Wyl had no fear of this warrior.
“Since now. Bore.” Lothryn replied.
“Just fuck her, Loth, and be done. I’ll help you do it. man. You know there will be no forgiveness from Cailech.”
“Not another word about her, Bore.” Lothryn cautioned, “or I will take the sword and finish you.”
“And you think I’m afraid of you?” he countered.
“No,” Wyl chimed in. tiring of the conversation. “But you should be very afraid of me, Bore, because I still carry insult from you. How is your throat, anyway?” Bore narrowed his eyes at Wyl. “When this is finished,” he called back to Lothryn, “I shall do her in front of you.”
Wyl made the sound of a parent scolding a child. “Very ugly talk. Bore. Let’s see if you fight as dirty as you speak.”
A whir of sword thrusts left Bore groaning on the ground, holding his leg, with blood pouring from severed tendon and muscle and another slash on his arm.
“That should slow him down.” Wyl said to Lothryn, who looked on with awe.
“I knew you were skilled. Koreldy. but not that good.”
“I’ve learned some tricks from a new friend.” Wyl replied. “I gather you want him left alive?” Lothryn nodded. “Leave him some water.”
They did so and rode off immediately. Bore howling curses after their backs. Once out of sight of the guard. Lothryn stopped the group’s progress.
“What’s wrong?” Wyl asked.
“We must use what’s left of the dark to get as far as possible.” Lothryn cautioned. “Once Bore set off after us. Dorl will not have wasted any time in running to the King. In any case, the guards have probably already woken and raised the alarm that you three have escaped. Cailech won’t wait—he’ll have sent a tracking party by now.”
Elspyth felt a new fear. “What are you saying?”
“He’s saying we’ll have to escape the hard way. am I right?” Gueryn croaked.
Lothryn nodded, looking at Wyl.
“So leave me!” Gueryn ordered. “I will hamper progress.”
“Stop!” Wyl ordered. “There’ll be no talk of anyone left behind. Lothryn… tell me the worst.”
“We’ll have to go over the mountains. The horses can only take us so far. It will be on foot for the most part. Very dangerous.”
“Lookouts?”
“No,” he said somberly, “they’re the easier of our problems. Our greatest threat is from the zerkons.”
“You mean they’re real?” Elspyth said.
Wyl had not heard of them. “Zerkons .. another tribe?”
Lothryn gave a harsh laugh. “Another species. I hope you never have to see them, let alone fight them.
Here,” he said, lifting a bundle wrapped in sacking from beneath his pack. “You’ll be needing these.” Wyl heard the comforting clank of metal. “My weapons?”
The barbarian nodded. “I took them from your room at the inn in Yentro. I had high hopes of keeping them, to be honest, but they’re somehow too elegant for the Mountain style of combat.”
“Are the knives sharp?” It was a strange question from Gueryn.
“Very!” Wyl assured him.
“Good. Then you can release these stitches from my eyes.” His three companions looked at each other. It was no polite request from the old soldier.
“Do it!” he commanded with a strength Wyl remembered all too well.
“I will.” Elspyth offered. “I have a steady hand.”
Wyl gingerly gave her one of the daggers.
“I can’t see very well by moonlight.” she admitted to her patient.
“Well, that makes two of us,” he replied gruffly. “Do what you can.” Laying him on his back, she quietly thanked Shar for his full moon this night. It hurt Gueryn badly, for the stitches were dried. She did her best to moisten and soften them with water but the delicate task was still seriously hampered by the conditions. Wevyr’s brilliantly fashioned blade was the only blessing. One touch and the black thread was cut through cleanly. Gradually, painfully, his swollen lids were released.
“They’re not perfect,” she admitted, looking at the stray threads still embedded in his lids.
“It is to me. Thank you, my dear, and you are every bit as pretty as I imagined you might be with that lovely voice.”
She smiled at his compliment. Gueryn now looked for the man who claimed to be his beloved Wyl Thirsk and saw only a tall stranger.
“You’re not Wyl.” Bitter disappointment gutted the older soldier.
“Gueryn — there is much to say and yet no time.”
Understanding dawned on Gueryn le Gant. “Save those words for another time. Thank you for helping me-I presume you arc the Romen Koreldy Cailech was so interested in me identifying. If you had not called out the Thirsk motto or pretended you were Wyl back in the dungeon, I might have given up my fight against him, against the fever, against the pain.” He found a shaky smile. “You know, you look nothing like Wyl Thirsk and yet somehow you do remind me so strongly of him.” Wyl could only shake his head. He badly wanted to confide in Gueryn and tell him everything about the bewildering life he now led but he knew that right now his old friend would not believe him. It would need careful telling and time.
Gueryn’s gaze had already moved on to Lothryn. “Our eyes meet again,” he said in his dry manner. “If‘ I was strong enough I would offer to fight you.”
The big man smiled, offered his hand to help Gueryn to his feet.
Wyl was anxious at how weak Gueryn really was. “Right.” he said, “we’ll take our chances over the mountains, then.”
Lothryn nodded. “He will not expect it. He will follow the most logical trail, anticipating we will go for speed.”
Elspyth groaned. “He’ll just send out two sets of trackers, surely?” Lothryn flicked a glance toward Wyl. Elspyth was right but he did not want to dishearten them any further. Their chance of escape via the more treacherous and mountainous route was slim at best between Cailech’s men and the zerkons but it was infinitely better than the more straightforward route winding down the Razors.
“Cailech will not send two sets of trackers if he’s following four horses on one clear track.” Gueryn said firmly, trying hard not to cough or reveal how sick he was.
“I don’t understand,” Wyl said.
“Koreldy, your chances, I am gathering, are lessening by the moment. If we give them a clear set of tracks and no reason to question it, they will follow that trail blindly, no jest intended.”
“No!” Wyl said, suddenly understanding where this was headed.
“Yes!” Gueryn replied just as adamantly. “You three go off on foot across the mountains. They will not suspect it if you cover your early tracks well. I will take the horses and lead them down and away from you. You will win a day, perhaps even two if you move quickly and you’ll move faster without me.”
“Gueryn, I can’t permit this.” Wyl said.
“Why? I am not answerable to you. Grenadyne. We have no loyalties to each other but I can do this for you because I want to. Get yourselves to safety and warn the Legion of Cailech’s threat to spare no prisoners. The Legion must not be sent in recklessly—perhaps you can persuade Celimus to do that much.”