The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (55 page)

At a signal from the middle of the cavalry officers, a big man on a huge horse, the soldiers halted. The officer who’d signaled and the man to his left continued forward until close enough to speak. The man who’d been on his right waited calmly with the rest of the company, his horse along with the others’ breathing steam into the cold air. None of them looked hostile.

The big man removed his white-plumed helm after they stopped, revealing a broad face behind a thick black beard. From the size of his neck, he looked as if he filled the entire expanse of his large armor. His companion kept his helmet on, his only sign of life the steady stream of hot breath billowing out from between the slits in his faceguard.

“Good morrow to you.” The officer’s voice was deep, and he raised one mailed hand and ignored the snow that slowly gathered in his hair. “I am Charak, Knight-Captain of His Majesty, King Sothos’ Imperial Cavalry.”

Drath nodded and returned the salute. “Good morrow to you, as well, Knight-Captain. I am Drath, of Celene. My companions and I are traveling through this land to explore the mountains beyond. We seek no trouble in Norden.”

“I am sure you do not. But that is not why we stopped you.” Like all Nordens, in particular the knights, the captain was impossibly formal. “From which direction did you come over the last few days?”

Drath glanced at the others in wonderment, apparently confused about why the man would want to know such a thing. Rush took the tall man’s gesture as a request for aid and edged his horse up beside Drath’s. Somehow he kept his face averted while still looking straight at the captain.

“From the southwest.” The elf pointed back over his shoulder, his lyrical voice surprisingly serious. Vaun could tell from the tenseness of his back how difficult it was for Rush to maintain that kind of tone. He also seemed unusually scared. “We left the foothills of the Black Mountains about a week ago, just beyond the curve. Since then, we’ve traveled almost due north.” Vaun was amazed at the elf’s lack of embellishment to so long a speech.

The captain pursed his lips. “I had hoped you had come the other way.” He turned to his companion, who still wore his helmet, and spoke briefly and quietly to him.

A gust of wind sprang up, causing everyone’s cloaks to fly about wildly. To Vaun, the cavalry officers, with their cloaks billowed around them, resembled majestic birds ready to take flight.

The captain looked back at Drath. “No matter. You are free to continue your journey. Best of luck to you all.” So saying, he turned his horse to go. He did not, however, put his helm back on.

Drath frowned slightly at the officer’s back. “Is there something we can help you with, Knight-Captain Charak?” It was something all northerners expected but refused to ask for; they looked for everyone’s help in solving a problem, yet would never request it. People were supposed to just offer. Drath visibly suppressed a frustrated sigh at the delay this might cause. He’d said northerners could cause more trouble if they didn’t offer support at the right time.

Stopping his horse, and managing to look both surprised and pleased at the question, the captain turned back toward the party. “I am not sure. We are looking for an escaped prisoner. Last we heard, he was headed in this direction. We have kept up with him so far, but lost him during that Ikone-cursed blizzard. Idiot probably wandered into the Black Mountains and, Ikone willing, got eaten up by a Jaga. Serve him right.”

Merdel leaned around from behind Drath. “What did this man do?”

“Plenty.” The captain’s companion raised his visor. His voice was not quite as deep as his superior’s, and his smaller face was clean-shaven. He didn’t have an insignia embroidered on his cloak as did Captain Charak, so Vaun assumed he was of lower rank. “He was planning an overthrow of our king, and we only found out about it six months ago. We have learned he has done this before in other kingdoms. We were taking him to the executioner in Luxen when some of his friends jumped us. Half of them died before they managed to escape. We lost nine in the attack.” Not as disciplined as his captain, he wiped away the snow that had gathered on his lip and spat contemptuously. “If only we had made it to Luxen.”

Drath whistled. Killing nine Norden cavalrymen was no easy task. “Who is he?”

“Someone named Liskin. Ever heard of him?”

All six of the companions stiffened at once. Having more self-control, Drath and Merdel managed to keep their surprise off their faces. Rush ducked his head and pretended to wipe snow out of his eyes, which wasn’t hard to fake, and the others fortunately sat their horses too far away to be seen by the soldiers through the blanket of falling snow.

Drath coughed once before managing to respond. “Sorry, no.” Vaun knew the tall man didn’t think it wise to reveal what they knew, for the officer would surely want to know their entire story, which they couldn’t tell, and would request their aid in the search for Liskin, which they couldn’t give. Right now, they could not afford such a delay. Even though it might mean the capture of one of the men responsible for the attack on King Dobry, their current mission was too important to delay longer.

Merdel had experienced another weakening of the barriers a few days ago, and he’d said then that their time was running out. The blizzard yesterday might have been caused by Elak’s magic, and twice before since leaving Mahal the earth had rumbled discontentedly. Norden was not known for earthquakes.

The captain nodded. “Well, if you do hear of him or see him, please let us know.” His deep voice rumbled, and for the first time he displayed a bit of the contempt he held for his escaped prisoner. “He has murdered several people and been involved in the assassinations of three noble lords.”

“What does he look like?” Merdel asked the question casually, as if merely out of curiosity and a genuine desire to help. But Vaun could tell he suppressed the urge to forcibly pull the information from the officer’s mind.

“Short, wiry fellow. Almost a runt. Hair is kind of blond and red. Always looks like he is squinting, or just planning something. Looks like a Galesian.”

The other cavalryman smiled wryly. “Which would explain his appearance.”

Vaun saw Merdel’s back grow more and more rigid throughout the captain’s description. The youth could see the tendons in the wizard’s neck standing out, and though he was behind the mage, he knew the silver specks in Merdel’s black eyes flashed angrily.

Despite his agitation, Merdel nodded calmly, as did Drath. “If we see him,” the tall man added, “we’ll certainly send word. We’d be glad to help you capture him, but right now we’re on kind of an errand. Thank you for the information, though. Good luck to you on finding him.”

“Thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy your journey.” So saying, the big captain put his helmet back on and saluted; then he and his junior officer turned and rejoined the rest of the soldiers. At another of his brisk gestures, the troops began moving again. Soon they passed over a hill and out of sight, only the trampled snow marking their passage.

*
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*

Merdel sighed expansively when the soldiers left, as did the others. For a moment, there seemed to be nothing but a cloud of hot breath hanging around the six horses until the wind carried it away. “By all that is good, no.” The wizard shook his head. “I thought he was dead.”

“Who is he?” Drath and the others gathered around.

Merdel eyed his companions, wondering what he should tell them, if anything. Knowing Vaun would probably cut his head off if he said nothing, the wizard decided to tell them just enough to satisfy their curiosity. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the mage to be secretive with a Swordsman around.

“He’s probably the most accomplished assassin who’s ever lived. Quiris hired him shortly after he’d gained the throne in order to secure his place. What he didn’t know was that Liskin had already been hired to kill him. It was from Liskin that I saved Quiris’ life. It was a very long time ago, right after I was appointed Court Wizard. What happened to me left me unable to remember anything at all for weeks. It took me almost a year to learn all that happened.”

“Why?” Vaun seemed determined to prevent Merdel from keeping secrets.

The wizard sighed aloud this time, displeased at having to answer questions, and peered out into the falling snow. At least this part he didn’t have to conceal. “When I saved Quiris, Liskin cut me instead. Pretty badly. Fortunately, Rebbuk was in the castle, so the poison didn’t kill me. They told me I was delirious for five days, and that they’d had to read the poison-slowing spells to me out of my spell book in order for me to cast them. If they hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have lived. When I recovered, I could barely remember my own name, and I thought my powers had been used up. I was too concerned about that to give much thought to the man who’d almost killed me.

“Liskin had disappeared. The soldiers sent after him came back a few days later and claimed they’d killed him. Either they lied to avoid punishment, or they caught the wrong man. Fire, they may have even been working for him. As it is, none of that matters now.

“Quiris hired him because he has an incredibly agile mind when it comes to plotting an assassination. It’s said he masterminded the overthrow of one of the most powerful Meschian lords. It’d be just like him to use a Jaga, because he always recruits helpers. Some of them will fight to the death for him, as in the case with the Nordens. If he’s behind the conspiracy against King Dobry, there isn’t much chance His Majesty will survive. Liskin is a professional and always has an inside man. Hopefully, Captain Stolar will keep the palace guard alert enough to fend off any other attacks. But he won’t have a Swordsman to help him if his men fail.”

The mage shook his head. “From what the elves told us, it sounds like the men in Darim are hiring another assassin, which means Liskin won’t be doing the job himself. That gives King Dobry a better chance, at least until Liskin shows up or is caught. Until then, we can only continue on our assigned task. Elak far outweighs Liskin’s plotting, even if it means sacrificing the Overlord. If anybody can catch a fugitive, the Nordens can. And if they get him to Luxen, he’s as good as dead.”

Vaun glanced toward the departed Nordens. “What’s in Luxen?”

“Luxen has better prisons than Mahal. Their current executioner has been in business over seventy years and has maintained the city’s perfect record. Luxen became the execution capital of the north over two hundred years ago.”

Vaun whistled, impressed with what must surely be a difficult accomplishment. “Let’s hope the Nordens succeed, then.”

“Aye, let’s hope.” Drath didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but there was nothing any of them could do.

Merdel was grateful none of his companions questioned him further. Even the ever-curious Swordsman didn’t seek any more details as they resumed their journey. The bearded mage was glad he didn’t have to tell them he believed Liskin was not human.

*
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*

The ground rumbled, causing rocks to tumble down hillsides and trees to sway and lean. Animals bolted in all directions in an effort to escape, but none was to be found. Birds launched themselves into the air, screeching harshly in fear.

People traveling or working or just standing about stopped and looked around, trying to figure out why the earth moved. It had never done this before. Earthquakes only occurred in other parts of the world, not here.

Men and women alike fell down, rose, and fell again. One family was crushed when their house collapsed on top of them. Several boys and girls climbing trees were flung to the ground, and only one stood with just bruises.

The sky itself seemed to groan as the world protested its destruction.

*
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*

Vaun soon began to wonder whether or not they’d ever reach their destination. The encounter with the Norden soldiers was nearly two days old, but the mountains seemed no closer. They’d had relatively easy traveling for the last few days, at least as easy as the deep snow would allow, yet the Kalt Mountains were still on the horizon. They sat there, waiting, almost daring the companions to reach them.

No snow had fallen for the last day, and the sun was actually visible overhead. This caused a considerable brightening of everyone’s spirits, except that the glare off the white snow nearly blinded them. Removing his hood, Vaun squinted yet again at the mountains beckoning to him. That strange sense of urgency had been building for a while now, and the youth was anxious to complete their quest.

Thorne eyed him. He had changed places with Drath because Vaun was willing to trade traveling stories and also because Merdel had wanted a private conference with Drath.

“The mountains always seem to get no nearer until you’re almost climbin’ ’em. ’Tis because of their size. On a clear day in the spring, you can travel nearly three weeks after sightin’ the Kalt Mountains afore you reach ’em. They’re that big.”

“We reached the Black Mountains fast enough.” Vaun couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“Aye.” The dwarf spoke in a calming voice. “But if the weather had been clear, you’d have spotted them almost immediately after we left Mahal, yet it took us a few days to reach them. You see?”

“I guess so. But it seems like we’re taking too long. I want to get to Elak right now. I don’t know why, but I have to get to him immediately, no matter what’s in my way.”

“We’re going as fast as we can. You can only travel so fast through this snow. And the storms’ve slowed us down. The Northern Kingdoms aren’t easily traveled even in spring and summer, so we’re doin’ the best we can. Have patience, Swordsman; your time will come.”

Vaun said nothing more. He squinted ahead again to try and make the mountains come closer, but it didn’t help. They were as far away as ever.

Later that day, the companions spotted a waystation on a nearby hill. Like Galesia and Ipek, the Northern Kingdoms had many places for travelers to rest indoors during their journey. The stations in the north, however, were not quite as comfortable as those in the west. Thorne said it was because westerners wanted you to feel safe before they robbed you, and the northerners didn’t care whether you slept well or not. They simply didn’t want to deal with your dead body if you froze to death. Whatever the reasons or quality of their construction, the waystations were a welcome respite from the cold.