“Then if Gueryn is alive—and I choose to believe he is—I think he will remain a prisoner to entice Cailech’s enemy back.”
“If you believe this, then you must not fall for such a plan.” Elspyth reasoned.
“I won’t. I promise,” Wyl said but his glance at Lothryn said differently.
“We must press on,” Lothryn cautioned and wearily they hauled themselves back to their feet and stepped out into the biting wind. “Use your hood tails,” Lothryn shouted against the howl. “Wrap them about your mouths. You must keep the icy air from entering as best you can.” They followed his lead.
“One more thing,” he cautioned. “We’re entering zerkon territory. We must be wary.” The first indication that one or more of the beasts were near came some time later when Lothryn, becoming suddenly rigid, stopped and smelled the air swirling about them.
“What?” Wyl mouthed, careful not to make a sound.
“Zerkon,” Lothryn replied in the same manner.
Elspyth’s expression queried how he could know this.
“The stench.” he whispered. “Can you smell it?”
They both lifted their noses and inhaled. A vague waft of something musty and unpleasant crossed their senses and they nodded.
“Not close enough to threaten yet. But if we can smell him. trust me that he can smell us. He will stalk us.”
“What can we do?” Elspyth asked.
“Distance is all we have,” Lothryn admitted. “But if he signals any others…” He opted to say no more.
“Let’s go,” Wyl said and took the lead, setting a rattling pace.
Cailech’s tracking group had made good ground on horseback but the terrain was fast becoming too precarious for their precious animals. They did not know it yet but they were getting close to their prey, who had been laboring for a much longer distance at a slower pace.
“They’ve passed this way—and recently,” the leader called back to his second-in-command. He scrutinized the footprints and broken stems of nearby bushes where the trio had rested in the circle of boulders just a short while ago. “Send a bird,” he said. “Let the King know they’re in Haldor’s Pass and we’re following.”
The man he spoke to nodded. “Immediately.”
Myrt, close friend of Lothryn, turned back and squinted into the snowcapped Razors. He despised leading this mission, knowing how it must end. But he hated more Lothryn’s betrayal and the fact that his own loyalty was now being called into question. It was no coincidence that Cailech specifically picked him out for this task. The King was testing Myrt’s faithfulness to the tribe.
Myrt grimaced at the thought. “Hobble the horses, we’re on foot from here,” he ordered.
Wyl and Lothryn were just hauling Elspyth up a slippery series of rocks when they heard a sound that made Lothryn almost let go of her hand.
“That’s our zerkon. He’s calling in another. They often hunt in pairs.”
“How close?” Wyl asked, dragging Elspyth up onto the flatter ground.
“Too close. No longer any use fleeing, they’re much faster and sure-footed than us.”
“Can we hide?” Elspyth gasped, still out of breath.
“No point,” was the terse reply.
“Right then,” Wyl said, shedding his pack and dragging the blue sword from the sheath he now wore across his back. Instinctively he touched the knives at his chest. “So we stand and fight.” Lothryn dropped his pack onto the ground and brought out a crossbow.
“I’ve been wondering what you carried in there,” Wyl admitted.
“This might be more effective than your beautiful weapon,” Lothryn said.
The men shared a knowing smile, one shared universally by soldiers needing bravado to go into battle.
“What was that thing you called out to Gueryn?” Lothryn asked.
“As one…Thirsk family motto and war cry,” Wyl said proudly.
“As one, then, Wyl Thirsk,” Lothryn said and they stood back-to-back, watchful. “He won’t strike immediately. If there’s two, they’ll watch us for a while.”
“Elspyth, you hide,” Wyl ordered.
“No point apparently. Give me a blade!” she replied.
“No!” Lothryn was determined. “We’re enough to satisfy them. You hide for now and then you run the moment you get your chance. Don’t you dare cross me on this.” Lothryn’s glare was enough to dissuade her from arguing further. She grabbed their sacks and backed into a depression in the rockface.
And so the two men found themselves alone on a freezing plateau, awaiting sure death.
“I’ve been meaning to say something about your son, Lothryn. I’m sorry you’ve had to leave him.”
“He’s in good hands.”
Wyl should have left it at that but, embarrassed by his inept first attempt at raising the subject, he pressed on. “I fear we’ve forced you into making the most damning of all choices. Blood should come before duty.”
There was a difficult silence before Lothryn spoke again. “He’s not blood.” the man said in a soft voice.
The words hit Wyl like a blow and he was glad they stood with their backs to each other, eyes roaming the rocks for any sign of the beasts. His pause gave Lothryn the opportunity to fill it.
“He’s not my son. My wife birthed him as ours but he was sired by another. Duty came ahead of blood.” the man of the Mountains admitted.
Wyl was confused. “What do you mean?”
“I regret it but I permitted my wife to be used in this fashion. Perhaps I am making amends now for bad judgment.”
“I don’t understand.” Wyl said.
“He is from Cailech’s seed.”
“What!”
“I’ve never told anyone. I hate myself for being so weak and allowing Cailech his way. You shared your secret with me. I will do the same with you. Cailech made me promise I would swear it was the death of our first two babes that soured our marriage but it was nothing of the kind. If anything after such tragedy we felt closer than ever, more committed to each other. Ertyl saw my capitulation to Cailech as betrayal.
She accused me of many things, the most hurtful. I suppose, was the most truthful—that I was his puppet. She said I had no mind of my own. And that made me less of a man in her eyes.”
“Why would you permit such a thing?” Wyl knew he should not ask it of Lothryn but the words tumbled out.
“My King demanded it for the line. Ertyl’s father was the strongest of the tribal leaders before Cailech united them. He believes in lineage. His family blood and Ertyl’s family blood would make a powerful mix.”
“Cailech strikes me as too intelligent, respectful—loyal even—to ask such a thing.” This time Lothryn grunted, although Wyl could not see the twisted set of his face. “It wasn’t his idea, of course.”
“Oh, Shar’s Wrath!” Wyl cursed, understanding dawning. “Rashlyn?”
“He advised—he had a vision—and Cailech followed it.”
“So the boy is where?”
“He was taken from me. Cailech wants him raised away from my influence. He will keep the child close—be his father. I would have loved him as my own. because he came from Ertyl. When he was taken from me on the day of his birth something snapped…and then the feast and the events surrounding it gave me the excuse I needed, I suppose.”
“To strike back, you mean?”
“Well…to let him know I am my own man. He took too much from me—my wife died because of him.
And my son is now motherless.”
“What is the child’s name?”
“He is called Aydrech…golden warrior.”
“We shall stay alive. Lothryn, and we shall see the boy grown. I promise.” The Mountain Man grunted but before he could say what he intended they were spotted by Myrt and others, who were climbing up the escarpment to where they stood.
“Lothryn!” Myrt cried. “Traitor!”
“Run, Elspyth!” Lothryn screamed. “You too, Wyl, it’s our only chance.” They heard Elspyth take flight like a startled deer and leap from her hiding spot, crashing down the ridge into the undergrowth below.
Wyl refused. “We face this together.”
At that moment, the zerkons leapt down from their vantage point above the plateau and pandemonium broke out.
It was a bloodbath. The zerkons’ long and agile bodies landed with the greatest of ease. Their white coats were striped with a dark brown, a brilliant camouflage in this environment. Yellow eyes sat above vast snarling mouths; their paws were huge and their spines strong enough to support them on two legs if need be. The daunting razorlike teeth were intimidating enough, but a barb on the tip of their strong, swishing tails that could inject a fast-acting paralyzing poison completed what was arguably the most effective killing beast Wyl could imagine.
Momentarily stunned by their arrival, he could only watch as the duo instantly killed two of the men with teeth and barb. Another two who rushed toward them with swords met a similar fate.
“They should know better,” Lothryn said almost conversationally as he slowly went about the business of loading his crossbow with a mean-looking bolt. “Myrt!” he called calmly. “Use bows!” Myrt nodded and began barking orders, rallying the remaining men as another went to his sods.
“Wyl.” Lothryn spoke softly. Wyl could hardly tear his eyes from the carnage. “You must go. Fight on for another day. Take Elspyth. You’ll come out at a place we call Straplyn—a narrow deer track leading into your realm. Get into Morgravia to safety.”
“Lothryn, I can kill these men now! I can give us a fighting chance.”
“No! This is the right way. No killing of my people. Go—before they even realize you’ve gone. Save her for me. They won’t kill me. Wyl. Cailech will want that pleasure for himself. I’m not afraid.” Myrt looked back. “Hurry, Loth, loose that bow!”
A man screamed as an zerkon ripped into his flesh. Wyl saw carrion birds begin to hover as words sunk in.
“He will torture you!”
“He has nothing to get from me. No. He won’t torture. But he will make me pay somehow. Please.
Wyl…escape, for all of us. Make this count.”
It was the big man calling him Wyl that broke the spell. Lothryn saw his words get through and took the opportunity. He pushed Wyl away and ran toward his friend Myrt. Side by side once again they fired death bolts toward the animals as men died about them. Wyl finally turned and ran. hating himself. No one noticed him leave the wind-riddled escarpment…no one cared right now. Except Wyl. He made a promise that he would return. Return one day to claim back Gueryn and Lothryn if they were alive and if not. he would seek terrible revenge on the King of the Mountains.
Eighteen men died that day on the escarpment. The zerkons were riddled with bolts before they too fell.
Only four of the Mountain Dwellers could claim to have outlived an zerkon attack.
Myrt finally turned to Lothryn. “We are to bring you back alive.”
“I thought as much.”
“You let him go. of course.”
“Yes. I’m glad I got him this far.”
“Why, Loth?” Lothryn knew Myrt was not referring to Koreldy’s escape.
“Oh, it’s complicated, my friend. Don’t immerse yourself in the web. Stay pure. Stay true to the tribe.” Lothryn offered his wrists and Myrt reluctantly nodded toward one of the others to bind them. “Did the Morsravian soldier live?”
“Cailech spared him for reasons he keeps to himself.”
Lothryn felt a twinge of satisfaction that Wyl had been right. “And me? Is there a plan?”
“I’m not sure any of us would want to know it. Loth.” his friend admitted sadly.
Chapter 32
Wyl worried at not fending Elspyth. By nightfall his anxiety had tripled yet he dare not risk a fire, which might attract Cailech’s scouts or worse, a curious zerkon. He hoped Elspyth would have the same sense.
He decided to find shelter before darkness closed in completely. One blessing was that he was already in the lower levels of the Razors so the air was far milder and breathing was normal again.
His fighter’s hearing and instincts combined to sense danger before he saw it. The noise came from behind and his sword was out of its scabbard and pointing at Elspyth’s throat in a blink.
“Shar’s Wrath. You’ve cut me.” she complained, although the wild look in her eyes suggested she had intended far worse for him with the thick branch she was carrying. “I thought you were one of the scouts.
Thank the stars you’re safe.”
He slid the sword back. “Let me see how bad it is.”
“It’s fine, really,” she said and he could see it would stop bleeding very quickly. She looked as weary as he felt. “Where’s Lothryn—is he coming?”
This would not be easy. “No.”
Elspyth dropped the branch and balled her fists instinctively. “Dead?” she asked, her face without any expression.
He shook his head.
Now she just looked beaten. “He made you leave, didn’t he. like he made me run?”
“Lothryn is too brave for his own good. We had a chance at escape but he wouldn’t agree to my killing any of his people. He chose to face Cailech.”
Her shoulders slumped and she sat on the leafy ground amid the small grove of trees they found themselves in. She wept quietly, her wound already forgotten.
Wyl knelt and put his arms around her. “I know you were fond of each other.”
“Cailech will execute him.” she muttered through her tears.
“I don’t believe so, Elspyth. I can’t promise you that but as I sense with Gueryn. I think Lothryn might be more useful to the King alive…if he can get past his rage, that is.”
“He will hurt him. though.” she muttered.
“Perhaps, but he is strong. He will survive. I know it.”
She wiped her face, trying to gather herself. “So we just leave?” she said flatly.
“For now.” he offered as gently as he could. “But I give you my oath. I am coming back for them.” She turned to him now, her wet eyes searching his for any sign of guile. “Swear it!”
“I do swear, on everything I consider precious to me. I will return, I promise.”
“With other men. you mean?”
“With a plan and when I am equipped to deal with Cailech.”
“And so what happens between now and then?”
Wyl had not thought beyond escape. Now that freedom seemed very real for them he considered his options. Elspyth waited while he thought, digging in her pack absently to fill the silence. It was Lothryn’s pack. She had mistakenly grabbed it in her flight. In it Elspyth found a little food. She was no longer hungry. She offered it to Wyl.