The Guardian (23 page)

“You cannot use your magic yet?” I asked. And when Shara confirmed what I already knew with a shake of her head, “Then do you wait here while I steal us horses?”

“No.” She shook her head again, but this time she was smiling. “I’ll come with you—I’ve a way with animals.”

And without further ado she set out in the direction of the horse herd.

“By the gods, woman! What do you know of stealing horses?” I forgot for a moment that she was a Vachyn sorcerer. “This is man’s work. Just wait, and I’ll bring them to you.”

She only continued on her way, leaving me to fall into step beside. I had no other choice, save to argue—which would likely alert the camp’s dogs and bring men after them. So I went with her, believing that I should soon die again and Ellyn be forever lost.

But she was right; she did have a way with animals.

We approached the herd and a dog came out to inspect
us. It was a typical Highland dog: muscular and long-legged, with shaggy hair and large jaws, its coat brindle. I drew my sword, readying to hack the beast down when it attacked, but Shara stayed my hand and stepped forward. She murmured words too soft for me to discern and knelt, opening her arms. The dog growled a moment, then came into them and she stroked its muzzle, its chest, and the great beast lay down and panted like a puppy eager for attention. She fondled the underside of its jaw and beckoned me on; the dog followed, nuzzling at her legs, and we approached the herd.

The watchmen were asleep—which spoke to me of either massive confidence or the laxity of Eryk’s rule; surely our father would never have tolerated sleeping herdsmen—and we wandered in amongst the horses. Some snorted, but Shara spoke to them and they grew quiet as the dogs that gathered about us. I found my bay and Ellyn’s chestnut, and looked to Shara to choose her own mount.

She shrugged and whispered that I should choose for her, so I selected a black mare that looked to own both speed and stamina, and we led them away, back to the stand of pines.

“Can you ride bareback?” I asked.

Shara looked up from the dogs she stroked (they’d followed us—or her—like puppies hungry for their mother’s teats) and said, “Yes.” She went on fondling the dogs as if we had no cares.

“It shall be a hard journey,” I said. “We’ll need to ride swift to escape Eryk. It would be easier if …”

“I cannot use magic,” she said, recognizing my thought. “It was all I could do to find you—bring you your gear—and fashion that spell that brought us here. And listen, Gailard—magic leaves a trail. Every spell that’s wrought leaves behind traces, like spoor for those with the talent. What I’ve already done shall leave … tracks … for Nestor and his hunters. I’d not leave any here, nor to where we go; so best we go mundane.”

I grunted, somewhat irritated by her calm demeanor. It seemed to me that I had placed my life in her hands. Surely I had replaced my instinctive mistrust of magic with belief in her abilities, and forgotten—or forgiven—that she was a Vachyn sorcerer. Now it was as she had promised—that Ellyn’s rescue lay in my hands. I stared at her and asked, “So what now?”

“We find Ellyn,” she said, still stroking the dogs, “and take her away.”

I think that it was then that the enormity of what we planned truly sank in. “Away from this camp, across the lines of warring clans, and—do we survive that—to your broch?”

Shara nodded. “Have you a better plan?”

I shook my head.

“Then best we get to it, eh?”

She rose, shedding panting dogs, and smiled at me. “We’ll learn to live together, Gailard. Perhaps you’ll even learn to trust me—after we’ve rescued Ellyn.”

“If we live,” I grumbled.

“There is that,” she allowed. “Shall we go?”

“With them?” I stabbed an irritable finger in the direction of the horses and the dogs. “What shall we do—walk into Eryk’s camp with three horses and a dog pack?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Let’s leave the horses here; the dogs might be useful.”

I grunted again, and she smiled and chuckled, and asked me: “Are you afraid of dying again?”

“I’d rescue Ellyn,” I said. “And for that, I need to live.”

“Then come here.”

She dabbled fingers in the beck and scooped up mud from the soft bottom. She smeared it over my face and through my hair. I started, backing away from her applications.

“By all the gods, woman, that’s how we dress our corpses!”

“And are you not a corpse?” she asked. “Have you not died?”

I nodded, beginning to understand; Shara daubed me thoroughly, but not so much that folk would not recognize my face. Then she smiled and said, “Shall we go, then?”

I looked at the dogs.

“They’ll come with us,” she said. “Do you Highlanders not believe that dogs carry your souls to the afterlife?”

That was true, so I shrugged and decided to follow her plan, whatever it was. Surely, I had none of my own that was better.

W
e left the horses amongst the pines and went down toward the camp with all the dogs around us. The clay was wet and sticky on my face, uncomfortable as it began to dry. I scrubbed at my eyes for fear they’d stick and cloud should I need to use my blade. Dogs nipped playfully at my breeches and my hands, as if this were all a great game, but none of them made a sound. I turned toward Shara and saw that she now wore the white robe again, and had daubed clay over her own face, so that she looked like a beautiful ghost.

She smiled a thin smile and murmured, “Trust me,” and walked boldly toward the nearest tents.

We walked in the grey hours of the morning, when night contests with the day and all is misty oblivion: the time when ghosts walk and old folk die. The grass beneath our feet was damp, the moon was gone away behind the clouds; it was too early for the birds to sing. We walked through an ethereal oblivion that wreathed us in mist. Before us stood the tents; I saw the clan banners of the Agador on this side of the stream, those of the Devyn limp in the mist to the other. The glow of banked fires cast faint light on the shapes of sleepy sentries, but even were they drowsy I could not believe we could pass unnoticed, and hesitated, motioning that Shara wait. She halted, still surrounded by the dogs, as I studied the panorama before us. The sentries were spaced at wide intervals, but save we crawled wormlike I could see no way we might pass them unobserved—and surely not with all those dogs milling about—but then
Shara touched my elbow and smiled at me and walked confidently forward so that I was left no choice but to follow.

Did magic save us then? Was Shara’s power not so depleted as she had suggested? I did not know—only that we passed between the sentries as if we were ghosts. I anticipated a shout, a flung spear, but none spoke or turned or moved to halt us, and we walked on amongst the tents of the Agador to the stream. We splashed through the water and came to the tents of the Devyn.

It was all still and misty, the silence disturbed only by those sounds any sleeping camp makes and the soft padding of our feet, the small noises of the dogs that accompanied us. I let my memory guide me to that small tent I’d seen beside Eryk’s pavilion, where two men squatted before the entrance. They did not seem especially alert—I supposed they felt confident, surrounded by so many—but they still held swords rested across their knees, and there was sufficient distance between us that they’d have time to rise and give the alarm before I might reach them. I wished Shara had brought me my bow, and motioned her to the temporary refuge of a nearby tent. Eryk’s great billet was separated from the rest by a circle of open ground; only that small bivouac that I prayed held Ellyn was nearby. I studied the distance and put my mouth close to Shara’s ear.

“I can’t reach them in time—not without they give warning.”

She smiled, cracking the clay around her wide mouth, and whispered back, “Trust me, and stay silent. Come.”

And set out directly toward the sentries. The dogs went with her and I speeded my pace to catch up, raising my blade as I prepared to die.

Halfway across the open space the sentries saw us and rose, hefting swords and bucklers. Shara continued toward them, and in the mist, white-robed and daubed with clay, with the shapes of the dogs moving around her, she seemed entirely ghostly. The two guards stared at her transfixed. I saw her intent then. It is believed in the Highlands that when
we die, our souls are escorted Beyond by the messenger, Helig, and her pack of soul-hunters, and to those two sleepy warriors it must have seemed that Helig came awandering with my shade in tow. Neither spoke—only stared wide-eyed and gape-mouthed—but I saw one’s lips move and read my name there. I grinned, and it likely seemed to them that my shade was risen from the tree and come seeking vengeance. One began to shudder, and Shara raised a hand, pointing. The man fell to his knees, letting go his blade that he might clutch his buckler across his chest. The other goggled, then turned his head as if seeking help from the sleeping camp, then took an unsteady pace backward.

I saw that he was about to flee and darted forward, hacking my blade deep into his neck, so that his burgeoning cry was stifled in the flow of blood. I smashed him down and spun to drive my point into the other’s back. It was not an honorable blow, and I felt guilty at the shedding of Devyn blood; but these were Eryk’s men, and I had sworn to protect Ellyn. I saw no other choice.

I withdrew my blade and turned toward the tent.

The entry was laced from the outside. I cut the strings and pushed the flap aside, ducking into the dark interior. There was no fire and all was shadowy, a single shape stretched on the floor, covered with a blanket. I set my sword down and plucked the blanket aside. Ellyn stirred, waking with an irritable grunt. Then opened her mouth to scream as she saw me.

“Quiet!” I slapped my right hand across her mouth and she bit me, hard. “It’s me—Gailard. Do you understand? It’s me!”

She stared at me, much as the guards had stared, and slowly nodded. I removed my hand. It hurt where she’d sunk her teeth, and I sucked at the cut.

“But …” Her eyes studied my face, filled with hope and disbelief. “Gailard? You’re dead. I saw you die—they made me watch.” She drew back as if afraid. “Am I dreaming? Are you a ghost?”

“You’re awake, and I’m not.” I showed my bitten hand; blood oozed across the palm. “See? Ghosts don’t bleed, eh? I’ll explain later, but hurry now.”

She went on studying me as if she could not believe what she saw. I said, “We’ve an ally, but we must be gone before the camp wakes—so quick now!”

I yanked the blanket away, grateful that she slept full-clothed, and took up my sword. Ellyn rose, shaking her head as if she’d dispel a dream, and touched my face.

“Why are you painted with mud?”

“In the name of all the gods!” I grunted. “I’ll tell you later. But for now, hurry!”

Ellyn nodded and at last went to the entry. I checked the tent for supplies, hoping there might be food—my belly now felt hollow—but there was none, only the blanket and a sorry mattress. I followed Ellyn outside.

Shara stood there, still surrounded by the dogs. Ellyn studied her curiously. “I … know … you.”

“You summoned me,” Shara said. “I heard you calling.”

“How?” Ellyn asked, looking now from Shara to the milling dogs, to me, her face creased in confusion …

“We’ve no time now,” Shara replied. “Later—when we’re safe—you’ll understand.”

“Save we stand here debating,” I muttered.

The morning was still grey and misted, but that brume was thinner now, and to the east I could discern a brightening glow that heralded the sun’s rising. The camp would wake soon, and save we were long gone we’d be recaptured. I doubted I could survive a second execution.

Shara said, “Follow me,” and I said, “Stay close,” and we started back through the maze of tents.

As we reached the stream I heard a bird burst forth in song, and then the sound of a man coughing; a horse whickered, and I knew that our time ran short. Before us, an entry flap was thrown back and a woman emerged, carrying a bucket. She stretched and looked about—saw us and screamed.

“Run!” I shouted.

The woman went on screaming and a man dressed only in his undergarments came out, holding a sword. He gaped at us, turned toward his wife, and then bellowed in alarm.

We broke into stride as the camp woke behind us.

We raced for the perimeter and I sped my steps to get ahead; surely there could be no chance of passing the sentries unnoticed now. I hefted my sword and held my buckler across my chest, intent on carving a way through so that at least Ellyn and Shara have some chance of escape.

I saw men gathering—four or five sentries, alerted by the shouting behind us—and then heard Shara call out in a strange, high-pitched tone. I glanced back, fearing she was caught, or pricked by an arrow, but saw that she only cried out as she ran. Then all the dogs that had accompanied us raced by me and fell on the sentries, so that they were overwhelmed and fell down screaming as we went by. I heard more shouts, men and women calling to one another. Some screamed that the Dur attacked, others that Helig walked amongst the tents with her pack of soul-hunters; some that dead Gailard was come seeking vengeance.

Even so, I could not see how we might now hope to escape. The camp was awake and warriors came afoot after us. I heard the song of arrows join the chorus of the wakening birds, and javelins whistled through the air. I turned, thinking to buy the two women a little time.

“Take the horses and run! I’ll find you if I can.”

“No need.” Shara called out again and the horses emerged from the trees, trotting toward us.

Shara sprang nimbly astride the black; I hoisted Ellyn onto her chestnut, then slung my shield on my back and leapt onto my bay. We dug in our heels and set off along the valley at a gallop. I felt an arrow thud into my buckler, and looked back to see men flighting shafts at us, more racing bareback in pursuit. I crouched along my horse’s neck, holding back behind the two women until I saw a group of
warriors come running to block our forward path. Shara turned her mount up the slope, Ellyn following, but I knew that that height could afford us little advantage. It slowed us, and the dozen horsemen chasing us were trailed by more, and closing fast, and those warriors ahead were climbing the slope to cut us off. I cursed, and urged my willing mare onward, charging the climbers.