First Comes The One Who Wanders (57 page)

"Don’t wish for trouble that hasn’t happened yet," said Adrian. "Don’t be gone too long. I don’t want to lose you, too."

Brenth looked at the duke in surprise. He'd been so caught up in his loss that it hadn’t occurred to him that Adrian might be suffering, too. "Nope, you're stuck with me for a while. Did Vanya give us any indication which direction?"

"No. She was going to do that this morning."

Brenth closed his eyes and turned a complete circle. When he opened his eyes he turned to the east. "I’ll try to be back by morning."

"I’ll take care of things here," replied Adrian, taking a bite of chicken.

The trail was almost nonexistent, but Brenth found it. It led to the fortification, which was camouflaged well into the rocks. Finding the entrance, Brenth took his time and ensured the stronghold would suffice for the last of the people of Kyris. The sun had set by the time he’d checked everything. Gathering wood, he made a small fire and settled in for an early night.

Why hadn’t Vanya come to talk with them this morning? He wanted to assure her that he'd do his best to find out about her brother and bring her the news the next time he came this way. Her father seemed a hard man. Had he forbidden her from having anything more to do with the strangers? How did such a beautiful, smart, and kind girl have such a father? Brenth fell asleep with Vanya’s face pictured in his mind and her voice soothing him.

For the first time in weeks, since they’d left Kyris, Brenth woke refreshed. He was back to Vanya’s city by noon. "The stronghold is only six or seven miles from here. It will serve nicely," he told Adrian when he found him."

"The people are ready to go. We were told we couldn’t stay another night," replied Adrian. "You didn’t make it back by morning."

"Who told you to leave?" asked Brenth.

"Laman, Vanya’s father. He’s not going to be a good neighbor."

"Did Vanya come with him?"

"No. I don’t know what's happened to her. It isn’t our business," added Adrian pointedly.

"The last time someone told me that, I lost a good friend," replied Brenth darkly. "I’m not sure I’m going to take that advice anymore."

"Joshuas knew the cost of what he was attempting. All the crafters knew. They killed thousands of our enemies and saved hundreds of our people."

Brenth fought against the pain in his heart. His head knew all that Adrian was saying was true, but his heart still rebelled. "We looked all day for them, Brenth, so we could give them a hero’s funeral. We didn’t find them. There's still hope he might be alive."

Despite Brenth steeling himself against it, the hope in his heart soared. Telling himself the odds were still small that Joshuas might be alive, nonetheless, he felt better knowing that someone else was hoping and believing Joshuas was alive, too.

There'll be other days, when we're in a better position to help, to confront Vanya’s situation. She's in no immediate danger," added Adrian.

"You're right, as usual," said Brenth, squaring his shoulders. "We should get started. As it is, we won't get all the people settled before nightfall."

Calling the people to the ready, Brenth led the way under the watchful eye of Laman and his men. Adrian took his place in the rear. The trek that had taken Brenth only a few hours took the group all afternoon. They entered the fortification in the dark. There was no point in trying to assign quarters and settle into their new homes. They camped in the courtyard and waited for the morning.

They posted guards every night, but they hadn’t seen any enemies prowling around. Not only had Joshuas killed thousands of their enemy, he'd bought Brenth and Adrian time to get the people settled in the mountains. Now it was up to them to use the time he’d bought in preparing for a long, hard fight.

Duke Jonas Donnegal looked out at the creatures dotting the countryside around the city. In his fifty years, he’d never seen anything like it, creatures of the night, out in the daylight, threatening his city. He and his men had held the city for over a month. He’d sent the people to Sylphia and Kyris months ago.

It wasn’t often he thanked his Menas mother for the foresight he considered a curse. But this was one time he’d been glad he’d known what was coming. He squared his shoulders and tried to shake off the feeling of fear and dread. He’d kill those damned gaunt crafters if he could. The best he could do was keep them at bay and as far away from the men as he could. They'd moved to the middle of the city. But even here, the effect of their presence rendered half the men helpless with fear.

The gray-headed, barrel-chested man looked over the situation, as he did every morning. There were still thousands of them surrounding the city. They were content to sit outside the city, for now. They would shoot a few volleys of arrows over the wall and catapult waste into the middle of the city, but they didn’t attack or try to overtake the city.

If they were waiting for them to run out of supplies, thought Jonas, they'd be waiting a long time. He had access to food and fresh water within the city. If they were waiting for them to go crazy from the fear –he squared his shoulders again in an attempt to shake off the feeling– that might happen. It was harder to wait with the fear eating at them then it would be to ride into a battle they knew they couldn’t win. He clenched the hilt of his sword. The urge to ride out and run his sword through someone outside the gate was overwhelming. One day soon, one of the men would give into it and then they would be lost. It was quite a weapon to have. A creature that spread fear just by being near, that a man couldn’t kill. Jonas turned away from the sight, his jaw clenched in anger. Only last year, he’d stood in this very spot admiring the beauty. How had everything changed so radically in such a short time?

He descended the wall stairs and strode resolutely to his office. His captain was there waiting to report. But what was there to report? Another man went crazy? Another day went by where all they did was try not to go crazy? "Any news, Jason?" He asked anyway. The routine seemed to calm his nerves.

Jason stood, clenching and unclenching his fist. Jason was his best man and even he was beginning to be worn down by the effects of the constant feeling of fear. "Nothing new, sir. A few more rumors, nothing for certain."

"What are the rumors, today?" Jonas tried to relax and failed.

"A group of creatures arrived last night. They were gibbering about some big earthquake near Kyris that swallowed up thousands of these vermin. They also said Kyris was abandoned."

"What of our people there?"

"These creatures wouldn’t know or care sir," replied Jason. "But it sounded as if it was quite a blow to them. Especially if some of them have retreated all the way back here. They said the earthquake was caused by magic."

Jonas looked up with interest. Perhaps if a crafter had caused this trouble, he could help them with the gaunts. If they could send someone to find the crafter–.

He must have been a very powerful magik to cause such an event. Jonas tried not to let the hope well up in him. But he couldn’t stop all of it. "Was there any talk of what became of this crafter?"

"Not from these creatures," replied Jason. "They were too busy running. We could probably rout most of them," he pointed in the general direction of the city wall, "if it weren’t for those demons."

"We probably could," agreed Jonas, worried his captain was surrendering to the madness. They were two hundred and fifty to their five thousand. They'd stayed out of stubbornness, pride and a sense of duty. No one here had ever believed they'd win the battle.

"That’s all the news, sir. The men are all about the same."

"Thank you, captain," replied Jonas, distracted by the idea of finding a crafter. The captain turned to go. His hand was on the door when the Duke stopped him. "Is there anyone among the men who might be able to sneak out and find that crafter?"

"There's that messenger who snuck in here," offered Jason. "He's been chafing to leave and deliver his message. Perhaps he could look for crafters on his way."

Jonas knew Jason was being facetious, but in fact, it wasn’t such a bad idea. Most everyone tended to overlook messengers. They were everywhere. They slipped in and out of places most people could never get inside. "Send him to me," said Jonas, to his captain. "Let’s have a look at him." Jason raised his eyebrows at the request, but bowed and left the room. A few minutes later there was a knock at his door. "Come," he called and went back to his papers.

A young man, of average height with dark hair and dark skin stepped into the room. "You asked to see me, my lord?" said the man, bowing. Jonas looked up at the messenger and tapped his fingers on the desk, while he assessed him. He hadn’t seen him in Barat before. There was something about him. Jonas tried to put his finger on what it was, but couldn’t come up with anything. "I hear you're anxious to continue your mission and deliver your message."

"It's very important that it be delivered," said the messenger.

"Who is this message for?" asked Jonas.

"You know I can’t tell you that, sir."

"Quite right," replied Jonas, trying not to bristle at the reply. It had been quite some time since anyone had refused to answer him.

"I have a request. Keep in mind, I'll understand if you say no," began Jonas, wondering if he was going crazy asking this of the lad standing in front of him. "What's your name, son?"

"They call me Cephom, sir," replied the young man, standing calmly before the Duke.

Jonas rose from his desk and began to pace back and forth, his hands behind his back, tapping nervously. "There's a rumor going around," he began and turned to face Cephom, "that there's a powerful magik somewhere nearby. I'd like to speak to this man." Cephom stood quietly, waiting for him to go on. Jonas wished he was as calm as this lad. "It's easier for messengers to get through enemy lines than it is for a soldier."

"You want me to find this crafter and ask him to come to Barat," said Cephom, putting into words what the Duke was finding it hard to say.

"It's dangerous. I know it's a lot to ask of you," said the Duke apologetically, waiting for an answer he expected to be in the negative.

"It's a bit out of my way, but I'll look for this crafter," said Cephom. "So is it permissible for me to leave Barat now?"

"As soon as you wish," replied Jonas, not believing his luck.

"Hold fast, Lord Donnegal. Your situation isn't as desperate as it seems," said Cephom, turning toward the door. "The Creator will provide."

Jonas looked at him in surprise as he slipped through the door. He was an odd duck, he thought. But his words had brought him some respite from the fear.

Cephom slipped his pack on his back, while diligently listening to Jason’s last minute instructions. "You don’t have to do this, Cephom," he said for the third time. "No one would think any less of you."

"It's very important that I deliver this message and there's someone waiting for me," replied Cephom cryptically. "I must go, I've lingered too long as it is."

"I can’t say I understand, but may the Creator go with you," said Jason, stepping back.

"He always does," said Cephom. He took the hand Jason offered in friendship. "I'll be back. Be strong and you will overcome."

"I’ll try, Cephom. If you see any of our friends, tell them we're still fighting."

Cephom smiled encouragingly. "I will. They'll be glad to hear it." With that, Cephom slipped into the watery passageway that led out of the city. It emerged to the west, beyond the enemy in the grassland that surrounded the west side of the city. Cephom skirted the city and headed for the forest. Once in the trees, Cephom turned south. His original destination had been into the Drakmoth Mountains, but now he had more urgent business.

He moved quickly covering the miles to Kyris. There were dark creatures dotting every section of the way, but they didn’t seem organized or inclined to fight.

Cephom stayed in the forest and avoided the enemy as best he could. It wasn’t in his calling to fight. The devastation at Kyris saddened him. Where there had been beautiful fields of golden, green grasses, now there were jagged upheavals of rock and dirt. Miles and miles of plains had been affected. The crafters had enacted a mighty feat at Kyris. There was no denying that fact.

The Dredracians hadn’t bothered to stay long enough to honor their dead. The bodies that hadn’t been swallowed by the moving earth lay strewn on the ground. Cephom removed his pack and began the weary task of collecting bodies and wood for a funeral pyre. He collected as many as he could move in one day then at dusk he lit the fire and began to chant the song of the dead. The task cost precious time, but he needed to honor as many as he could. Leaving them abandoned wasn’t right. He would have stayed and collected all the bodies, but his business was urging him to continue his journey as quickly as possible.

Retrieving his pack, Cephom turned toward the forest. The major upheaval was to his back, the crafters who'd created it must have fallen somewhere near the rift. He searched up and down the edge of the forest all morning. Resting against a tree, he smiled. At least one of the crafters had survived and managed to hide or honor the others. Now all he had to do was find him.