The Guardian (26 page)

I had commanded half a thousand men, but I had not planned wars, and it seemed to me that I had become a pawn in some jigsaw of magic and bellicose ambition played out by the Vachyn sorcerers and Talan and Eryk, and that now it was Shara and Clayre and Mattich who designed my future. I felt I did not much bare, save for Ellyn’s sake, but when I glanced at her, she seemed in far worse state than me. She had demonstrated her fondness for the brose, and now sat heavy-lidded and swaying beside me. Her head rested on my shoulder, and I leaned against her.

I drank more ale and let the fire warm me; I felt wary of my unplanned future, and it seemed that that lack of knowledge seeped into my bones, so I fell back on the mercenary’s
habit—let others decide your destiny, then pick up your sword and fight.

At some point I was aware of hands lifting Ellyn’s weight from my shoulder, and of her drunkenly grunted protests, and then of Shara urging me to my feet. I set an arm around her and followed her; I’d have followed her anywhere. Indeed, I remember (vaguely) attempting to loosen her clothing, to kiss her, and she turning away, and stronger hands carrying me to a most comfortable bed, into which I sank and (so Shara advised me) spent the night snoring.

M
y head ached come the dawn, and I quit the tent to find fresh water. It was a high, bright morning, summer hanging on autumn’s cusp, the sky a fine, clear blue straddled with windblown billows of white cloud. Birds darted overhead and waking horses nickered, their sounds met by the barking of the camp’s dogs. The air was scented with heather and horses and cookfires, and for a nostalgic moment I thought I was young again, and at home amongst the Devyn. Then I remembered, and sank my aching skull in the bucket and wished I’d not drunk so much the night before.

Shara emerged from the tent and I stood waiting as she bathed. I remembered sufficient of the previous night’s events that I felt embarrassment, and offered her an apology.

“It’s of no matter,” she said. “You were weary and drank a little too much.”

The morning sun shone on her hair and droplets of water sparkled on her smooth cheeks. She was very beautiful, and I wondered how old she was. She appeared young, yet clearly owned ancient wisdom. I bowed my thanks for her dismissal of my foolishness and asked after Ellyn.

“Still asleep. I suspect she’ll regret the brose when she wakes and finds a long ride ahead. But she’s young and she’ll recover.” She laughed, and it was a sound that seemed
to me to echo the birdsong and the dancing sunlight. “Shall we walk awhile—there are things we should discuss.”

I nodded and we strolled through the waking camp. Shara was dressed in the clothing of a clanswoman, and I could not tell if this was another aspect of her magic or simply borrowed gear; but when she looped her arm in mine, the sensation was entirely physical, and despite my aching head and the awe I felt, I found myself aroused.

“Well go with the Dur into the Barrens,” she advised me, “and then strike off alone. We must bring Ellyn to my broch and teach her what she needs to know.”

“And your broch is where?” I asked.

She said, “In the Styge.”

“The Styge?” Arousal—the easiness I had felt in her company—dropped away, replaced with a sensation of cold and horrid dread. No human being went into the Styge by choice, and those who did did not return. That place was worse than the Barrens according to legend; and legend was all we Highlanders knew of the Styge. I stared at her, aghast, and mouthed the words again.

“Where better to hide from the Vachyn?” she returned me. “A place where no man goes. The Barrens to either side, that none care to cross. Then such mountains as none have set eyes on.”

“Or not returned from,” I muttered, wondering and more than a little afraid. “To cross the Barrens is more than most would dare. The Styge …”

“Is a wonderful hiding place.” She clutched my arm tight, leading me on—almost unwilling now. “Think on it, Gailard. I fled the temple and would find a place where not even the Vachyn—not even my father—could find me. I found the city in the Styge, and I’ve been safe there since. Now Ellyn and you shall be safe there—none shall think to find us there, and we can teach Ellyn all she needs to know.”

I swallowed hard. I was tempted to withdraw my arm, no longer sure of the woman’s motives. She had saved my life. The gods knew, she had given me back my life, and
without her I could not have rescued Ellyn. But the Styge? I stared at her, nervous.

She chuckled and drew me on, and there was something in her eyes that I could not deny, but only trust and go with her.

“It shall be no easy journey,” she said, “but worth the taking. We shall be safe there, and you can teach her sword-play whilst I shall tutor her in other matters.”

“Magic?”

Shara nodded. “She’s much power, Gailard. Perhaps even more than I own, but she cannot recognize it yet—so she must learn, is she to reclaim her throne.”

“Shall she?”

“If I’ve aught to do with it.” Shara looked up at me, her grey eyes earnest. “Are we to defeat Nestor and Talan, then we must both give Ellyn all our knowledge, and see her safe to maturity.”

“And then?”

“We come back—when Ellyn’s ready—and we go to war.”

“We three?”

“We three,” she confirmed, “and the Dur. The gods willing, we shall find more allies—perhaps in this your brother shall prove our tool.”

“Eryk?” I gasped. “What help can he be?”

“He looks to conquer, no? He’d make himself headman of all the clans, and have them all bow down to him. Like the Vachyn,” she added bitterly. “And how shall the clans take that?”

“Hard,” I said. “They’ll fight him. But what if it’s Nestor’s magic influencing him? Shall Nestor not come to his aid? Shall Talan not send an army to help him?”

“Perhaps,” she answered, “but you Highlanders are hard foes, no? And does Eryk—with, or without aid—stir up the Highlands, then shall it not be like disturbing some wasp nest?”

I ducked my head, understanding. “He’ll turn the clans
against himself,” I said, “and make them our allies against his plans.”

“Exactly!” She clutched my arm tighter, drawing it against her side so that I felt the swell of her breast. “And El-lyn shall return as the Highlands’ savior. Are the gods willing, then we’ll win ourselves an army and defeat Eryk.”

“And then we’ve only Talan’s army to beat,” I said. “And the Vachyn.”

“Yes,” she answered cheerfully.

“But first we must go into the Styge?”

“To my stronghold,” she said. “To my broch there—where we shall be safe.”

I stared at her, loosening her grip that we might stand facing one another, eye-to-eye. “Can I trust you?” I asked.

She met my gaze unblinking. “Yes.”

I studied her face. I saw no guile in her, but still she was Vachyn-born, and would take my charge and me where none ventured willingly nor returned from alive. But she had raised me from the dead and risked her own life to save Ellyn. For all I was afraid, I could not find reasons to mistrust her, so I ducked my head, accepting.

And she set her hands against my cheeks and brushed her lips on mine. And as I drew her closer and would have kissed her harder, she pulled back, escaping my grip, and said, “No. We’ve things to do.” And smiled and turned away, back toward to the camp.

I think it was then that I chose to trust her and fell in love with her.

W
e returned to the tent and woke Ellyn. She was in a foul mood, complaining of her aching head and uncomfortable bed. I was mightily tempted to drag her out and douse her in cold water, but Shara was all solicitous, urging the fractious child to rise and perform her ablutions, reminding her gently that we must be soon ahorse and on our way.

“I can’t!” Elyn exclaimed. “I cannot possibly ride until
I’m recovered. I need tea and a decent breakfast. And more sleep. Leave me be!”

“We might,” I said, “but I suspect Eryk’s men are looking for you, and before long must find this camp.”

Ellyn glowered at me. “You’re my guardian—protect me.” She turned her reddened eyes on Shara. “And you can surely weave some spell to hide us.”

“No.” Shara shook her head. “We must travel without magic’s aid, else Nestor’s hunters shall locate our trail. Even now, we’re in danger of that.”

Ellyn grunted and flung herself back onto the bed, tugging the covers up to her chin. “I’m surrounded by savages,” she cried. “I forget when last I had a decent night’s sleep.”

I was about to drag her from her bed, but Shara motioned me back. “Do you see what’s to eat?” she asked.

I shrugged and quit the tent. I had thought that Ellyn and I had come to some sort of understanding, but she seemed now to have regressed to her former, petulant self, and I was willing to drag her up and spank her—save that Shara’s expression had suggested even more forceful argument. I found us tea and bowls of porridge, honey and warm bread, and brought my bounty back to the tent.

Ellyn squatted outside, her face pale with more than the aftereffects of her drinking. She spoke not at all, but took the provender I offered with a lowered head and only a brief nod of surly gratitude. I looked at Shara, wondering what their conversation had been, but she only smiled and thanked me, and set to eating.

Then Mattich, whose tent stood next to ours, announced that it was time to depart, and we struck camp and set out for the Barrens.

“I
hate her!” Ellyn’s tone was low as her mood, her face red and contorted into such angles of discontent as I’d not seen before. She glanced at me as she spoke, then returned her
narrowed gaze to Shara’s back as if she’d bore holes into the woman’s soul. “Why do you listen to her?”

“She saved my life,” I replied, “and yours. And she promises to help us.”

“Do you believe her? She
is
, after all, a Vachyn.”

“Yes, I trust her. She risks her life for us.”

“Us?”
Ellyn’s voice was a strident whisper. “I think it’s you she’d aid.”

“Me?” I stared at her. “What do you mean? She’d teach you to use your talent properly and see you set safe in Chorym, on the throne.”

“Could my grandmother not teach me?” Ellyn snapped back. “And do I regain the throne, shall
she
not stand beside, whispering in my ear? Isn’t that the Vachyn way?”

“Not hers,” I said. “I believe her honest.”

“That’s because …” Ellyn returned me, and fell silent.

“Because?”

“Can you not see it? She wants you; she’d make you her … her …
consort.
Her paramour.”

I laughed so loud Shara turned to look at us, and the folk surounding us chuckled and whispered amongst themselves.

“I’ve a vague memory,” I said, “of attempting to kiss her last night, but she spurned me.”

“You don’t understand women,” Ellyn snarled.

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t.”

Ellyn glared at me. “She’ll ensnare you, and you’ll become her plaything.”

I looked at the woman riding ahead of us and thought that she could ensnare any man, and that I was a most unlikely candidate for her affections. The gods knew I was aging and no match for Shara’s wit, nor had I wealth to offer—indeed, little save my faith and my sword. Which, of course, was sworn to Ellyn.

“I doubt that,” I said.

Ellyn snorted and fixed her eyes forward and for the remainder of the day refused to speak to me.

Nor much in the days thereafter, as we traversed the edges of the Highlands toward the Barrens.

The land here was all high valleys and roaring rivers that foamed down out of the plateau that held the Barrens, which in turn bordered the vast mountains of the Styge. Stretches of pine wood dotted the landscape, and sometimes little copses of birch, but mostly it was a place of tussocky grass and great spreads of gorse and heather that rustled in the constant wind and threw up grouse and dunnocks from our path. Overhead, buzzards and goshawks soared, and lonely eagles. There were deer to hunt, and rabbits, and we ate well. Moreover it seemed that we’d left Eryk behind, for Mattich’s tailguard reported no pursuit, and we came in peace—save for Ellyn—to the Barrens.

There was a daylong climb up a steep wall where grass and gorse and heather gave way to bare rock that jutted and jagged. Black-faced cliffs spewed red water, and all the trees that grew there were solitary and stunted, like withered fingers clutching at life. It was not yet summer’s end, but the wind was chill there and somehow soured, and as we climbed, we left the birds behind—as if nothing could survive in that place.

We reached the rimrock and looked out over a sterile landscape. Rivers ran, but fed little growth. What vegetation there was was poor and stunted and grey as the earth. The streams were dull, their passage seeming flaccid until they reached the edge of the dismal plateau. There, they appeared to find some renewed vigor and hurled themselves eagerly toward the brighter country below. I did not relish the journey ahead; but I felt I had no choice: I was committed now, and when Mattich reined in his horse and announced that he’d take his clan off along the edgeway, I thanked the old man and his kindly wife, and accepted the provisions they offered us and swore (again) that I’d protect Ellyn to the extent of my life.

And then we three stood alone in the Barrens.

“We’ve a ways to go yet,” Shara said, “so shall we goon?”

It was some time after dawn. The sun was up, but it seemed not to light the grey stone or the dull streams. No birds sang, and it appeared that all the light fell on the lowlands behind us. Streamers of grey cloud hung above us, but when I looked back I saw that they ended on the rimrock and gave way to blue sky and white billows, as if we left a world behind.

“To where?” Ellyn demanded. “What is there here?”

Shara pointed toward the Styge. “Safety in my broch, where you can learn to use your talent.”

I followed her hand and saw the Styge for the first time. The mountains were a warning spread by the gods across the horizon. They were vast, so big they were a shadow over all the west and north. I could not imagine such size, nor how Shara could choose to live there alone.