Draykon (35 page)

'Stay here,' he
murmured and left the room. She heard the front door open and
hushed voices in conversation. He was gone for several minutes, and
at length she drifted that way, taking her tea along with
her.

Two winged
Glinnery guards stood in the hallway. Their eyes flicked to Llandry
as soon as she appeared. Devary looked up also, an expression of
haggard alarm on his face. Llandry looked questioningly at the
guards, trying to stifle the flicker of fear that began in her
belly.

'Miss Sanfaer,'
said one, bowing to her. 'Bad news to report. We left two of our
colleagues at the Silver Harp yesterday. Their bodies have just
been discovered.' He paused, his face hard. 'Your room was broken
into last night. It's been ransacked; most of your possessions are
destroyed, I'm afraid.'

'Whurthags,
Llan,' said Devary gently. 'It cannot be long before the search is
extended to this house. We are leaving immediately.'

'We're escorting
you back to Waeverleyne, Miss,' said the guard. 'I've requested
some reinforcements from the guardhouse here, plus a local
summoner's coming along. You'll be well protected.' Llandry guessed
he was anxious to regain face after a series of failures, but she
appreciated his consideration for her safety.

'Thank you,'
Llandry said to the guards. 'I-I'm sorry about your
colleagues.'

'Not your fault,
Miss,' said the captain. 'We'll await you and Mr. Kant outside.'
Both men bowed to her and left.

'It is my fault,'
she said sadly, to an empty hallway.

Everything moved
very rapidly after that. Devary returned within minutes, hastily
groomed and dressed in his travelling clothes. She stood ready by
the time he arrived, her cloak donned and her few remaining
possessions clutched in her small travel bag. A carriage waited
outside, with a team of four nivvens in the traces. She and Devary
stepped on board and the carriage immediately began to
move.

Devary settled
into a seat opposite her. 'I am not letting you out of my sight
until you are safely back with your mother and father.
Understand?'

She nodded,
twisting her small hands nervously in the folds of her cloak. She
watched sightlessly out of the window as the city of Draetre
blurred past, trying to ignore the knot of guilt that had taken
root in her belly. Every time she stepped beyond the confines of
her mother's house, she generated disaster, and she was wholly
sickened by it. Her gravest mistake had been in wandering the
streets of Draetre while Sigwide carried the istore pendant. True,
she hadn't known he had taken it, but that was little excuse. He
had stolen it once before. She should have been more
vigilant.

Feeling the
advance warnings of an imminent attack, Llandry fumbled in her bag
for her tonic. Devary's eyes flicked in her direction as she drank,
heedless of his observation, but he didn't enquire. She hid the
bottle away again and slumped back into her seat, trying to breathe
slowly. She had been mistaken in thinking she could achieve
anything by her rebellious journey into Draetre. Her presence - her
mistakes - had only destroyed Devary's errand and brought death to
two people - and she had almost got herself captured in the
process. She had nothing to offer, no skills, no special knowledge,
not even sufficient strength to handle herself without
disintegrating into a heap of frayed nerves. She would have to
admit defeat, accept her reincarceration at home until the istore
craze had died away. The thought was severely
dispiriting.

It occurred to
her, belatedly, that the carriage was moving at a slow pace that
didn't fit at all with Devary's apparent urgency not long before.
She caught his eye.

'Shouldn't we go
a little faster? It could take a week to get home at this
rate.'

'We don't want to
attract any undue attention,' he replied. 'At the moment we are
merely one of many hired carriages travelling through the city. If
we were to fly along at a dramatic pace, we would make ourselves
conspicuous. We will travel faster when we reach the open
road.'

This explanation
made sense, but Llandry's nerves would not be soothed by it. She
spent a nervous hour as the carriage ambled through the town to the
northern gate and finally picked up speed beyond. Their route was
to take them up the Coach Road a long way north from Draetre, and
then west and back southwards into Glinnery. It was less direct,
but nonetheless faster than their pedestrian journey of only two
days before.

They travelled
all day, putting up at an inn that night. Before sunrise the next
day they were back in the carriage. Devary looked as though he
hadn't slept the night before; she supposed he had been keeping
watch. She hadn't slept much either. They were well out on the
Coach Road now, passing through the densely forested hills through
northern Nimdre, and the pace was much faster than the day before;
so much so that Llandry forgot her misery in the sheer physical
discomfort of being bounced, jolted and shaken to pieces hour after
hour. She felt that it was deserved.

As they entered
Glinnery the wide Coach Road ended and the route became narrow,
steep and winding, wholly unsuitable for large vehicles. They were
obliged to abandon the carriage in favour of forming a mounted
party. One guard rode ahead, two behind, and a few more maintained
their station on the wing overhead. Devary was mounted on the
largest, strongest nivven, and Llandry was set behind him. She
spent several more hours with her arms wrapped around his waist and
her cheek resting against his back, clinging to him as they
journeyed on at speed.

For a time they
were able to maintain a brisk pace, but eventually the roads became
so narrow and twistingly unpredictable that they had to slow down.
The way became increasingly difficult after that, and their
progress painstaking. At length the bright Glinnery sunlight grew
muted and the softly-lit dusk hours came on. The guard riding at
the head of the party reined in and held up his hand.

'I'd hoped to
reach the Sanfaer house before the end of today, but we aren't
going to make it.' He was obviously chagrined - and worried. 'The
nivvens are exhausted. We'll have to stop here for a few hours.' He
dismounted and the rest of the party followed suit. Llandry winced
as she swung down to the ground, her stiff legs threatening to
buckle beneath her. She was grateful for Devary's strong grip on
her arm, keeping her upright.

'Miss Sanfaer,
please stay with Mr. Kant. I've sent ahead for help. We should
expect to see another company arriving within two, maybe three
hours.'

Devary frowned.
'Is that necessary? There's been no sign of any pursuit at all. Has
there?'

The Captain
glanced at him, saying nothing. Llandry understood: more had
occurred than had been apparent, but nobody wished to speak of it
before her.

'I can bear it,'
she said. 'Tell me.'

'I've had scouts
aloft, combing the route behind us for signs of activity. One of
them spotted a party early this morning, some way behind us but
riding hard. It may be nothing - only travellers.'

Devary let out a
long breath. 'How long till they catch up with us?'

'At their pace,
not more than five or six hours. I've men keeping an eye on them.
We'll stay here only for four.'

He nodded to them
and collected the reins of his nivven, drawing the beast away for
rest and food. Llandry looked anxiously at Devary. She tried not to
show the extent of her anxiety, but she very much feared it was
written across her face.

He smiled
reassuringly and squeezed her hand. 'All will be well. I'll make
sure of it.'

She wished his
apparent confidence was more convincing. She couldn't help a glance
back at the road behind them, half-expecting to see a group of
pursuers come riding up at any moment.

Devary drew her
away from the road. 'It's best to rest while we can.' He took off
his cloak and laid it over the grass for her. She accepted the
gesture silently, laying herself down and wrapping herself in her
cloak. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was riders, riding hard
and relentlessly with bright weapons in their hands.

***

The hours passed
slowly. Minutes dragged by as Llandry lay, restless and unable to
sleep under these nightmarish conditions. Sigwide lay curled
against her side, but for once his small form was unable to impart
any comfort to her. She was conscious of Devary lying nearby, too
far away to touch but she could hear him. There was nothing of the
sleeper in the rhythm of his breathing, and in the whisper of grass
as he frequently changed his position. He lay as unable to sleep as
she. At last she sat up.

'It's time to go,
surely,' she whispered.

Devary grunted.
'I hope so. I'll see to the nivvens.'

As he rose to his
feet, a shout went up on the edges of their little camp, and a
uniformed figure swooped down from the skies.

'Captain,' he
gasped. 'The scout's missing and we've one man unaccounted for. I
fear that-' He broke off, staring beyond the borders of the camp.
Then he swore and grabbed the hilt of his sword, drawing it with a
hiss of steel. 'Too late.'

The Captain drew
his weapons grimly, shouting orders. Their clearing, so quiet
before, was suddenly a whirl of activity as guards descended from
the skies and more rose from the ground. Nivvens bucked and
whinnied and in the commotion Llandry saw several unfamiliar
figures, Nimdrens and even - oh, horror - two winged Glinnery-folk,
armed with flashing weapons and pursuing the uniformed men of the
Glinnery guard. She watched, aghast, as two were instantly cut
down, betrayed by the suddenness of the attack.

Devary came up
beside her, his knives gleaming in his hands. 'Stay behind me,' he
said tersely. He chose an opponent and attacked, not recklessly but
coolly and with considerable skill. His knives flashed in the low
sunlight as he fought with perfect coordination. His opponent fell,
but immediately two more were upon him, and he was hard pressed;
one was defeated but he fell back before the second, clutching at a
wound opening redly in his side. Around her the fight raged, too
evenly matched: she saw another of her guards fall. She'd kept the
knife Devary had given her the night before, and she drew it now,
ready to go to Devary's aid.

But before she
could reach him, the two winged men appeared before her. They were
much taller than she, and they easily blocked her way through to
Devary.

'That's the
little Sanfaer,' said one, smiling at her with a horrible
approximation of kindness. 'Give us the pendant, little lady, and
there'll be no need for any more bloodshed.'

The pendant! She
didn't have it. It rested in Devary's care, but she had no
intention of revealing that fact.

'Why's it so
important to you? You've killed for it!'

The second man
spoke up, and in his face and manner there was a trace of
regret.

'We've no desire
to kill you, truly. Just give it up and we'll be gone.'

'No,' she said,
backing away. She heard her name called; Devary was trying to reach
her, but as she watched he was attacked anew, three men surrounding
him. Desperately he turned to defend himself, unable to help
her.

'No!' she said
again, anguished. 'Why are you doing this?'

'Do you know what
it is you're carrying?' The first man's eyes were oddly alight. He
took a sudden leap towards her and grabbed her arms. 'You'll never
be safe while you keep the pendant. Give it up!'

She twisted,
slashing with the knife. Her attacker cried out in surprise and
pain and released her.

'Llandry!' The
shout was desperate. Devary tackled the man who'd grabbed her, but
the second was after her. She ran hard, but she was small and her
stride was short. Her pursuer caught up to her easily, knocking her
to the ground. She bit at the hands that tried to subdue her, and
stabbed upwards with her knife. A cry of pain rang in her ears, and
then she was free. She unclasped her cloak and let it fall to the
ground as she unfurled her wings. Then she was aloft, soaring
upwards, flying with all the speed she could muster.

She'd only
intended to get above her attacker, out of reach of his weapons,
but she was followed: two men opened their wings and jumped into
the air after her. She heard cursing, and a hand tried to grab her
feet: she kicked hard, freeing herself, but the delay had given the
second man enough time to get in front of her, cutting off her
escape. She twisted to the left and darted out of reach, trying to
rise, but she knew it was hopeless; her attackers had begun to
circle, keeping her surrounded, and they were almost as fast as she
was.

Then something
hit her face. Confused, she saw flashing colour as wings fluttered
directly in front of her eyes. Her absent winged friend had
returned, and the stupid thing was buzzing like an enraged wasp. It
threw itself into the face of the nearest foe, and the man
faltered. Llandry seized her chance and shot forwards, her wings
pumping as she climbed higher.

She turned,
preparing to circle back, but the air abruptly blurred around her,
like sheet rain, and she could see nothing through it. The sky
began to ripple like a heat haze and a thick mist laced with colour
rushed in, swirling visibly in front of her face. Heat beat upon
her, of an intensity she'd never felt before in the temperate
climate of Glinnery. When a faint but strengthening melody reached
her ears and the ground turned lavender beneath her, Llandry
realised what was happening.