Silent Hall (40 page)

T
he climb
back did not feel so long, now that Salemis was behind them.

“I still can't believe it,” said Criton. “We have the Yarek's seed now, and we're bound to have Psander's help. We're going to rescue Salemis!”

He was so happy now. Why shouldn't he be? This was what he had wanted, the chance to be a rescuer and to pretend that a dragon was his father. But what did it mean for Bandu and for her young? She carried big Goodweather's acorn in her arms, and little Goodweather inside her. Which one would Criton cherish?

“It's amazing,” said Phaedra, stumbling along beside her with an arm over Hunter's shoulder. “I always knew that dragons were huge, but I never really realized what a… what a lesser order of being we are.”

“How do you mean?” asked Hunter.

Phaedra panted a little as she walked. “That hissing sound he made – that wasn't speech. He was using magic to make us understand him. Just like Bandu does with animals.”

Hunter nodded. “Right. I see what you mean.”

“Back to Psander, then,” said Narky happily, “and for once, she'll be doing as much for us as we do for her.”

When they reached the end of the tunnel, they stopped. The entrance had shrunk while they were gone. A dim light poured through the narrow hole in the roots, soft and subdued. There was barely room to crawl through one at a time, and even as they watched, the roots slithered and tightened further around their exit.

“Let's get out of here,” said Narky.

“Bandu goes first,” Criton insisted. “She's the only one who can't slip through sideways.”

It was true. Turning sideways would only have made Bandu wider now, the way her belly stuck out. She crouched and squeezed through, her arms out in front of her.

It was around sunset outside, though the mountain stood between her and the view. When she turned, the flower that had stood at the cliff's edge was completely gone. She went back to inspect it, then suddenly stopped and fell to her knees. There was a man standing at the mouth of the cave. A man with a spear.

She made to peek over the edge a second time, but just then Phaedra stepped out of the tunnel and stood beside her. Bandu grabbed her skirt and pulled her to the ground.

“Someone looks for us,” she whispered.

She crawled forward again on her hands and knees, leaving Phaedra to warn the others if she could. The man with the spear was standing next to their horses, keeping watch. So far, he was looking down the mountainside instead of up it.

Phaedra managed to get Criton to stay quiet, but Narky stumbled as he came out of the tunnel, and the watchman heard him. His body stiffened, and Bandu pulled out of sight just as he began to look upwards.

“Oh please,” Bandu whispered to the wind, “don't carry our sounds to him.”

Above her head, the hole in the mesh was nearly gone. Before it could close completely, Hunter dove out of the shrinking tunnel and crashed to the ground beside her.

Bandu held her breath, but nothing happened. Then the man below called out to whoever was in the cave.

“What is it?” asked a harsh man's voice.

“I think they're close,” the watchman replied.

“Did you see them?”

“No, but I thought I heard something.”

“Where?”

“I don't know. It was gone almost as soon as it started.”

Bandu sighed in relief and silently thanked the wind. The man below sounded frustrated. “It's getting dark,” he said, “and they've left all their horses and equipment here. They'll come back soon enough. Here, bring the horses inside. When the islanders come looking for them, we'll be waiting.”

“But what if they don't come looking?” asked a third voice, a rough, gravelly voice that sounded somehow familiar.

The other man laughed. “They won't get far without their food and their waterskins. We can track them by the light of day. And if all else fails – well, in that case we can try your wizard.”

“Who
is
that?” whispered Phaedra. “I've heard that voice before.”

“It's Bestillos,” answered Criton, looking almost yellow. “The high priest of Magor.”

Phaedra's eyes widened. “Gods protect us,” she said.

There was a clopping of hooves from below, and the men's voices grew more distant. “Let's get out of here,” whispered Hunter.

“We're not going anywhere near that cave,” said Narky, “not until we can be sure they're not looking.”

Criton seconded his opinion. “We'll find another way down,” he said.

Their climb away from the cave was torture. It would have been impossible for her without Criton and Hunter's help. In order to avoid passing the tomb's entrance they had to go up the mountain for a while before heading back down again. The sun had long set by the time they were once more on level ground. They did not stop then, but continued traveling by the light of Criton's magic. In that dim light, Criton's eyes begged her for forgiveness. It weakened her, that look. With people nearby who so unashamedly meant to murder her, how could she stay angry with a man who had only hit her by mistake, when he was weak and afraid?

“I think I know who you were talking about,” Hunter told Phaedra, as they continued down the mountainside. “You were talking about the one with the raspy voice. It sounded familiar to me too.”

“That was Hearthman Charos,” said Narky, “of the Gallant Ones. I bought a horse and our tents off him.”

Phaedra groaned. “Bestillos said they'd try the wizard if they couldn't find us – Charos is going to lead him straight to Psander!”

“We should get to her as soon as we can,” suggested Criton, “before Bestillos can raise his army again.”

“Not a chance,” said Narky. “We can't go by the roads. We can't even go back the way we came – too many people saw us that way. If we stay in the open, he'll track us down. He might track us down even if we don't.”

Hunter nodded. “We have to go through the mountains,” he said.

“What?” cried Phaedra. “Bandu and I can't climb over the Calardian range! And even if we could, that would take months!”

“What else can we do, Phaedra?” Hunter hissed back. “Narky's right. The red priest tracked us to the Dragon Knight's Tomb, and he has our horses now. The mountains are the only place we can go where he's not twice as fast as we are. If he doesn't follow us,
then
we can worry about Psander.”

They traveled on through the night, and did not stop until their march became a climb once more. The mountains loomed before them in the darkness, and Bandu shivered. It would be cold up there, and their blankets were still in the cave.

Bandu's belly weighed on her, and her feet felt as if she was pounding them flat. Her back ached. Yet onward they climbed until the sky began to brighten again and their legs could take them no further. Criton found them a sheltered nook to sleep in, and they all huddled there together for warmth.

And then, just when sleep was finally falling upon their eyes, the young inside Bandu woke up and began to squirm and kick. She moaned and shut her eyes tight. Would the torture never end?

Whether she slept, she could not say. She felt the priest of Magor tracking them, or else she dreamed that he was. He could smell the magic on them, smell Criton's fire and Bandu's pregnancy and Goodweather's seed, and he would chase them down until he had caught them all on the end of his spear. He was catching up with them already. She could feel it.

She rose and shook the others awake. “We go now,” she said.

They did as she told them to, yawning and rubbing their eyes as they stumbled up the mountainside. They had not slept long, and by noon had broken past the treeline and could stare back down upon the plains of Hagardis. Bandu could not see the riders below, but she could still feel them. She begged the wind to scatter the islanders' scent, but she doubted that that would be good enough this time.

“Phaedra,” she said. “I need talk to dead Mountain God. How do I do?”

“What?” Phaedra asked, startled.

“Mountains need to help,” Bandu told her, “or we all die. Magor's priest can smell us. He is chasing.”

Phaedra looked both horrified and confused. “But how could Caladoris help us with that, when He's been dead for hundreds of years?”

“Dead God still is strong,” Bandu answered. “Only does not wake up. Salemis says Yarek is dead, is broken and cut in two pieces, but Yarek is only not strong like before. And maybe one day Yarek is fixed.”

“I don't know,” Phaedra said dubiously. “I don't know anything about what will happen ‘one day.' Eschatology never really appealed to me. None of it seems reliable.”

“I don't know what you say.”

Phaedra sighed. “I don't know anything about the end times. You could be right, or you could be wrong. I do see what you're saying, about primordial beings like the Gods being in some ways indestructible, but even if a God's death is more like a long sleep, I still don't see how you can hope to communicate with a dead one.”

Bandu shook her head, disheartened. She had hoped that Phaedra would know.

“There's another way,” Criton said suddenly. They all turned to look at him, and he sat up straighter.

“Another way to get Bestillos off our trail,” he clarified. “He's tracking us. He can feel our magic, just like we can feel his.”

“Are you saying we should split up?” Narky asked incredulously.

“Not all of us,” Criton said. “Just me. I'm the one Bestillos wants. I'm the one he's following. But I'm also the one who can fly. I can move around these mountains much faster than you can, and send Bestillos off in the wrong direction. By the time he realizes I'm throwing him off, your trail might be cold. I'll rejoin you in two weeks, if you make a big enough campfire for me to see from the air.”

“Right,” said Hunter. He reached out to shake Criton's hand. “Good luck.”

And just like that, Criton was gone.

Their travels grew no easier, for all that the feeling of being followed abated. In the mountains, the others relied on Bandu completely. It was she who found them water and game, and showed them which plants were safe to eat. It was she whose magic kept the wild animals at bay.

At the same time, she knew she was slowing them down. She could hardly go a few paces without her belly seizing so that she had to stop and rest. It felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders – and on her bladder. That was the other thing. No matter how often she went, it seemed as though she could never relieve herself enough.

Criton rejoined them after two weeks, looking hungry but triumphant. “I think it worked,” he said.

“Let's give it another two weeks before we start celebrating,” Hunter answered.

They continued southward, grateful for the warmer weather of the dry season. Yet even when Hunter's two weeks were up, they had barely made any progress toward Silent Hall. Phaedra was even slower here than Bandu, and when the climbing got steep, it took two of the boys beside her to keep her from falling. How many miles had they traveled? It was hard to say, but Bandu doubted they had gone very far past Ardis. They came across a tribe of mountain people, but they had nothing to trade for food or shelter, so they had to simply move on. Phaedra asked if any of these clansmen had lost a daughter named Caldra, but none had.

Another week went by, and another. The weather grew hot and dry, and finally Hunter said that they could leave the shelter of the mountains and find a road again. It took them the rest of the day to find a gorge that led out to the plains, where they washed their dirty faces in the river and lay down to rest at the water's edge.

That night, it happened. Bandu awoke, her stomach a solid ball of pain. A moment later the pain was gone, but it soon returned with a terrible cramping sensation. Her young did not kick or move – it seemed to have slid down inside her while she slept, finding a place to hide from her tensing muscles.

Another jolt from her stomach, and she sat up sharply. Her back was beginning to ache, but for now, this did not bother her. All she could think of was Criton.

Should she wake him? He would try to take control, she knew he would, and she did not want that. But didn't he deserve to know?

Another contraction. No, Criton could wait until after. He would only trouble her now, and she did not have time for trouble. Phaedra would be more sympathetic… but would she be useful? Bandu was sure that she would have a lot of advice to give – advice that she had never tried out herself. Hunter was kind and gentle, but he seemed afraid of her body. He might be a wonderful help, but she could not risk it.

Narky? He knew more than he said about these things. He had helped her with Four-foot, and he had grown up in one of the farms by the forest. He would have seen sheep give birth, and maybe helped them… but no. Even though Narky might be the best one to help her, she knew how much it would hurt Criton to have another man there beside her instead of him. No, she could not ask Narky. She would have to do this herself.

She rose, gasping for breath, and tottered forward in the dark. She had to get away from them all, far enough so that they would not awaken until she had finished. She staggered through the night, stopping now and then just to clutch her belly and breathe. It was such an urgent feeling, that feeling in her belly. It was much more than pain. It was a force.

She sank to her knees and planted her hands on the ground, drawing strength from the steady earth. Wave after wave came upon her, each one longer than the last, and with less time to rest in between. Her dress bothered her, so she took it off. She lost track of time after that, with her mind focused entirely on her belly and her breathing. This was lasting hours, she thought, during a brief moment of clarity. Then another wave struck, and she stopped thinking.