EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (406 page)

Her question stopped him sharply in his tracks. He turned. “Arik? Where did you hear that name?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Good. She had his interest. She said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

She shrugged. “Knowledge of this person came to me in a vision as I meditated in the Pool of Tears in Silverwood Grove. The First Mother whispered many things in my ear while I floated in that pool. Information about you. Information about this man you seek.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.” But the flicker of interest hadn’t left his eyes. “Are you truly a seer?”

“Do you doubt my powers after what you’ve seen of them?” she asked, sidestepping the question. Let him think she was a great oracle. Let him think she was the First Mother reincarnated if it’d win him to her aid.

He said, “It’s not your powers I doubt, but your intentions. If you know of my interest in the One-Eyed, then you know also how desperately I search for him. Yet you would stand in my way?”

She thought quickly. “I’m not in your way, but neither am I going out of mine to share information with you. You said yourself we owe one another nothing.”

Anger flashed across his features, and as he took a step toward her, it was all Eydis could do not to reach for the knife at her belt.

“This is no game, witch,” he said. “Arik is the one man alive who can clear my name of the charge of treachery and remove the death sentence hanging over my head. Until he speaks out, I’m a wanted man, a traitor to my people and to yours. I have to find him and force him to tell the truth about the battle at Endguard. Where is he?”

She kept her face still. Confident. He wouldn’t be fool enough to hurt her. Not when she alone held the answer he so obviously wanted.

“Help me with the first leg of my quest,” she bargained. “Come to Asincourt. There’s a seclusionary in the baselands at the foot of the mountains. The place is about to fall under the attack of an evil army. Help me save the seclusionary and its innocent inhabitants from their doom, and I will personally lead you to the man you seek.”

She sensed he was weighing, considering, and she knew a moment of panic. What if he didn’t take the bait? What if he guessed that half her vaunted knowledge was bluster?

He appeared to come to a sudden decision. “It is an oath in the sight of the First Couple,” he said firmly, taking hold of her forearm with a large grimy hand.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eydis hid her consternation and forced herself to return the clasp that would seal the deal. Doubtless even this pagan knew that an oath in the sight of the First Couple was sacred to her, as a Lythnian. If she failed to fulfill her end of the bargain, creed would demand she take her own life.

“That’s it?” the Kroadian demanded, on seeing the rowboat in the distance, beached along the shore. “That leaky heap of scrap lumber is going to carry us to the mainland?”

“It’s only a few miles from here,” she pointed out with forced patience, wiping a damp tendril of hair from her eyes and stepping around a tombstone in her path. The relentless fog curled around her boots as she walked, but the chill in the air was welcome as, panting, she struggled to keep pace with the long-legged barbarian.

He didn’t have the consideration to slow down for her, and she would drop dead from exhaustion before she would ask.

She tried to make conversation as they traveled. “You still haven’t given me your name,” she said. “I’ve shared mine already.”

Instead of answering, he responded with a question, “What about provisions? Have we food or not?”

“Waiting in the boat,” she gritted, narrowly avoiding a shallow hole that would have snapped her ankle if she’d stumbled into it. The sunken path was disappearing as more graves and stone markers closed in around them. These weren’t the newer, poorer additions but the ancient headstones with ornate inscriptions and sculpted detailing. Whatever bodies lay beneath these markers, they had been people of importance at one time. It seemed a shame they were now lost to memory.

Her nameless companion was still grumbling. “And what about the weapons? I was promised a weapon by that dead Fenric fellow. But do I see any here? No, I don’t.”

Eydis couldn’t hold her aggravation in check any longer. “You want a weapon, do you?” she snapped. “If it will silence your infernal grousing, I’ll give you a weapon, you ungrateful—”

She ran up to a tall grave marker shaped like a winged messenger bearing a sword. Laying her hand on the arm of the statue, she funneled her anger into it, trying to remember how she had infused life into the dog statue at the temple. The stone grew soft and warm, gray rock melting into pale human flesh. As the messenger’s fingers loosened, she pried them free of the sword in their grip. When the heavy weapon dropped into her hand, she halted the magical process before the transformation reached beyond the statue’s shoulder. Into the weighty sword, she channeled another stream of altering magic, until the weapon flared with a blaze of blue light. The flare died down quickly, and when it was gone, the sword had been changed from ancient stone to new steel.

Wordlessly, she tossed the weapon to the stunned barbarian. He caught it easily and examined the glowing hilt as if he half expected it to burn his hand. When it didn’t, he gave the weapon a few practice swings, testing the balance.

“Well, barbarian?” she demanded smugly. “What do you say to that?”

“I say have you got any more tricks like this one up your sleeve?” he asked with grudging admiration.

Mollified, she admitted, “Lots of them. Between my powers and your skills as a swordsman, perhaps we’ll stand a chance at accomplishing our mission. If the First Couple will it.”

“You think a lot of that First Couple of yours, don’t you, Red?” he asked. The way he said it made his opinion clear.

Still she asked, “You do not?”

“No.”

His tone was challenging, but she refused to rise to the bait. “Fine then,” she said evenly. “Don’t believe in the First Father and Mother. But believe in me.”

She prayed he wouldn’t ask why he should do that because she hadn’t the faintest idea. She only knew if this quest they were embarking on was to stand any hope of success, she would need to gain the trust of her new ally.

Chapter VII

“M
Y
NAME
IS
O
RRICK
,”
THE
barbarian said as he dropped the armload of kindling he had just gathered beside the campfire.

They were the first words he had spoken since they had rowed across to the mainland, skirted Shoretown, and made camp in this thicket away from the main road.

“I suppose sharing your name means you’ve decided to trust me?” asked Eydis, glancing up from the scanty meal she was dividing.

His tone was noncommittal. “Maybe.” He accepted the portion of dried fish and bread she passed him, devouring it with the impatience of a starving mongrel. From the looks of him, it had been awhile since he’d had real food. She unobtrusively slipped her portion in with his, thinking at his size he needed it more.

To cover the action, she said, “We probably shouldn’t have this fire. If there are going to be people out looking for you—”

“There will be,” he interrupted, wiping the back of his hand across his greasy lips. “Lythnian authorities want to impress my people with their swiftness in dealing with traitors. They question Kroadian commitment to the alliance. It’s always been our duty to man the border of the Lostlands, so when Endguard fell, both Kroad and Lythnia needed someone to blame. They chose me.”

Eydis didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe he was innocent of the treachery merely because he claimed to be. In fact, it was very difficult to view this man as a helpless victim in anything. Somehow she sensed there was more to the story. But luckily the truth about his past made no difference to her mission. Defeating the dark sorcerer and protecting the Asincourt seclusionary was all she needed of this unlikely catalyst.

So she said simply, “We’ll keep the fire low then. We’ll stay off the roads and avoid the towns, where you might attract unwanted notice.”

“Unless you can conjure more supplies out of thin air, that’s going to be difficult,” he said. “It’s a week’s journey to the base of the mountains, unless we can get horses to speed us on our way. Meanwhile, this is the last of the food.”

Eydis retorted, “Well, I’m sorry Fenric and I didn’t have time to scrounge up more supplies. We were a little busy arranging to save your life. Anyway, I’ve come up with a plan for passing through the Elder Forest. I’ve heard of a village there, where I think we can safely resupply. It’s a colony of Drycaenians—a peaceful people who have little contact with the world beyond their forest. They won’t have heard of you or your escape.”

Orrick spat on the ground. “There’s no such thing as a peaceful Lythnian.”

With an effort, she ignored the affront to her nation. “The Drycaenians are a sub-culture within ours. They do not share Lythnian ancestry or customs. We will be safe among them.”

Although he looked doubtful, he didn’t argue further. Good. He must learn to trust her judgment if he was to be of any use to her or the oracle in fighting Rathnakar. According to her vision in the pool, the catalysts must cooperate to have a hope of victory.

The Kroadian finished his meal in silence before rolling up to sleep in the cloak she had supplied him. Eydis followed suit, although it wasn’t yet dark. Under the circumstances it seemed wisest to use the daylight hours for sleep and do most of their traveling under cover of darkness. Weary and sore muscled from rowing the boat and spending a sleepless night hiding atop a tomb, she drifted quickly to sleep.

Eydis was atop the walls of the Asincourt seclusionary, the Arxus mountains looming darkly in the distance. Below her, an army of undead swarmed like ants, scaling the protective walls while meager forces attempted to hold them back. The battle was lost, but surrender was not an option for the defenders. Eydis and Orrick stood back to back, panting, swords drawn, brows streaked with sweat and blood, fighting wave after wave of undead soldiers.

The enemy flooded the wall like ocean waves breaking against a rock. Corpses piled high at Eydis feet, but no matter how many she slew, more of the undead soldiers spilled in to fill the gaps in their ranks. Thunder sounded in the distance, while black storm clouds roiled over the mountains and blinding bolts of lightning streaked the sky. It was as if nature itself had turned against the defenders.

A shrill scream sounded in the courtyard below and was drowned out by a thunderclap. Eydis looked to see the defenses had been breached. Undead were clearing the walls and swarming into the courtyard, cutting down unarmed attendants and helpless children. With a cry of anguished outrage, Eydis let down her guard. In that moment of distraction, an undead soldier dodged past her sword and slammed into her, shoving them both off the wall. She managed to grab the edge with one hand, even as her attacker sailed past, falling to oblivion. She dug her fingertips into the rough stone, even as her feet scrabbled unsuccessfully for purchase. Her grip was slipping.

Suddenly a strong hand caught hold of her forearm. “Give me your hand!” Orrick shouted over the roar of battle. Eydis looked up into his sweat-streaked face and intense eyes, and she made a mistake. She trusted him.

Transferring her grip to his large hands, she waited to be hauled up. Instead, she was startled when he swung her sideways and outward, before letting her go. Flailing, she fell through the air, plunging toward death. She caught a last glimpse of the stark figure of the barbarian standing tall atop the walls of Asincourt. Then she hit the ground.