Magician (24 page)

Tomas and Pug laughed. Tomas’s
father made a great show of considering the playful drake a plague
from the gods visited upon his well-ordered kitchen, but on several
occasions both boys had spied Megar lavishing some of the choicest
dinner scraps upon the beast. In the fifteen months since Pug had
become Kulgan’s apprentice, Fantus had become a winged, scaled
house pet to most of the Duke’s staff, though a few, like the
Princess, found Fantus’s dragonlike appearance disquieting.

They continued to move east by south,
as quickly as the terrain would permit. The Duke was concerned about
reaching the South Pass before the snows made it impassable, cutting
them off from the east until spring. Kulgan’s weather sense had
allowed they had a fair chance of making it before any big storms
struck. Soon they came to the edge of the deepest part of the great
southern forests, the Green Heart.

Deep within the glades, at prearranged
locations, two troops of guards from the keep at Carse were waiting
for them with fresh horses Duke Borric had sent pigeons south with
instructions for Baron Bellamy, who sent a reply the same way that
horses would be waiting. The remounts and guards would be hurrying to
the meeting places from the Jonril garrison, maintained by Bellamy
and Tolburt of Tulan near the edge of the great forests. By changing
mounts, the Duke would save three, perhaps four days of travel to
Bordon. Longbow’s trackers had left clear blazes for the Duke
to follow, and they were due to reach the first meeting place later
that day.

Pug turned to Tomas. The taller boy was
sitting his horse somewhat better, though he still flapped his arms
like a chicken trying to fly when they were forced to a fast trot.
Gardan came riding back down the line, to where the boys rode before
the baggage guards. “Be wary,” he shouted. “From
here to the Grey Towers is the darkest part of the Green Heart. Even
the elves pass through here quickly and in numbers.” The
sergeant of the Duke’s Guard turned his horse and galloped back
to the head of the line.

They traveled the balance of the day,
every eye searching the forest for signs of trouble. Tomas and Pug
made light conversation, with Tomas remarking on the chance of a good
fight. Both boys’ banter sounded hollow to the soldiers around
them, who sat silent and vigilant. They reached the place of meeting
just before sundown. It was a clearing of considerable size, with
several tree stumps grown over with ground cover that peeked through
the snow, showing that the trees had been harvested long ago.

The fresh horses stood in a picket,
each tied to a long line, while six guards stood careful watch around
them. When the Duke’s party had ridden up, they had weapons
ready. They lowered their weapons when they saw the familiar banner
of Crydee. These were men of Carse, who wore the scarlet tabard of
Baron Bellamy quartered by a gold cross, a golden griffin rampant
over their hearts. The shield of each man bore the same device.

The sergeant of the six guards saluted.
“Well met, my lord.”

Borric acknowledged the salute “The
horses?” he asked simply.

“They are fit, lord, and restless
from waiting. As are the men.”

Borric dismounted; another soldier of
Carse took his horse’s reins.

“Trouble?”

“None, my lord, but this place is
suited for other than honest men. All last night we stood watches by
twos and felt the crawl of eyes upon us.” The sergeant was a
scarred veteran, who had fought goblins and bandits in his day. He
was not the type to give in to flights of imagination, and the Duke
acknowledged this. “Double the watch this night. You will
escort the horses back to your garrison tomorrow. I would rather have
them rested a day, but this is a poor place.”

Prince. Arutha came forward. “I
have also felt eyes upon us for the last few hours, Father.”

Borric turned to the sergeant. “It
may be that we have been shadowed by a band of brigands, seeking to
judge our mission. I will send two men back with you, for fifty men
or forty-eight is of little difference, but eight is a far better
number than six.” If the sergeant felt any relief at this, he
did not show it, simply saying, “I thank my lord.”

Borric dismissed the man and with
Arutha walked toward the center of the camp, where a large fire was
burning. The soldiers were erecting rude shelters against the night
wind, as they had each night of the journey. Borric saw two mules
with the horses and noted that bales of hay had been brought along.
Arutha followed his gaze. “Bellamy is a prudent man; he serves
Your Grace well.”

Kulgan, Gardan, and the boys approached
the two nobles, who stood warming themselves before the fire.
Darkness was descending quickly, even at noon there was little light
in the snow-shrouded forest. Borric looked around and shivered from
more than the cold. “This is an ill-omened place. We will do
well to be away as soon as possible.”

They ate a quick meal and turned in Pug
and Tomas lay close, starting at every strange sound until fatigue
lulled them to sleep.

The duke’s company passed deep
into the forest, through glades so thick that often the trackers had
had to change their course, doubling back to find another way for the
horses, marking the trail as they went. Much of this forest was dark
and twisted, with choking underbrush that impeded travel.

Pug said to Tomas, “I doubt the
sun ever shines here.” He spoke in soft tones. Tomas slowly
nodded, his eyes watching the trees. Since leaving the men from Carse
three days ago, they had felt more tension each passing day. The
noises of the forest had lessened as they moved deeper into the
trees, until they now rode in silence. It was as if the animals and
birds themselves shunned this part of the forest. Pug knew it was
only because there were few animals that hadn’t migrated south
or gone into hibernation, but that knowledge didn’t lessen his
and Tomas’s dread.

Tomas slowed down. “I feel
something terrible is about to happen.”

Pug said, “You’ve been
saying that for two days now.” After a minute he added, “I
hope we don’t have to fight I don’t know how to use this
sword, in spite of what you’ve tried to show me.”

“Here,” said Tomas, holding
something out. Pug took it and found a small pouch inside of which
was a collection of small, smooth rocks and a sling. “I thought
you might feel better with a sling. I brought one, too.”

They rode for another hour, then
stopped to rest the horses and eat a cold meal. It was midmorning,
and Gardan inspected each horse, ensuring it was fit. No soldier was
given a chance to overlook the slightest possible injury or illness
Should a horse falter, its rider would have to double up with
another, and those two would have to return as best they could, for
the Duke could not wait for such a delay. This far from any safe
haven, it was something no one wished to think about or discuss
aloud.

They were due to meet the second
detachment of horses at midafternoon. The breakneck pace of the first
four days had given way to a careful walk, for to rush through the
trees would be dangerous. At the rate they were progressing, they
would be on time. Still, the Duke was chafing at the slow pace.

On and on they rode, at times having to
stop while guards drew swords and cut at the brush before them, their
sword blows echoing through the stillness of the forest as they
followed the narrow path left by the trackers.

Pug was lost in thoughts of Carline
when, later, a shout erupted from the front of the column, out of
sight of the boys. Suddenly the horsemen near Pug and Tomas were
charging forward, oblivious to the thicket around them, dodging
low-hanging branches by instinct.

Pug and Tomas spurred their horses
after the others, and soon their senses recorded a blur of brown and
white, as snow-spotted trees seemed to fly past. They stayed low,
close to the necks of their mounts, avoiding most tree branches,
while they struggled to stay aboard Pug looked over his shoulder and
saw Tomas falling behind. Branches and twigs caught at Pug’s
cloak as he crashed through the forest into a clearing. The sounds of
battle assaulted his ears, and the boy saw fighting in progress. The
remount horses were trying to pull up their stakes, while fighting
exploded around them. Pug could only vaguely make out the form of
combatants, dark shrouded shapes slashing upward with swords at the
horsemen.

A figure broke away and came running
toward him, avoiding the blow of a guard a few yards ahead of Pug.
The strange warrior grinned wickedly at Pug, seeing only the boy
before him Raising his sword for a blow, the fighter screamed and
clawed at his face as blood ran between his fingers Tomas had reined
in behind Pug and with a yell let fly with another stone. “I
thought you’d get yourself into trouble,” he shouted. He
spurred his horse forward and rode over the fallen figure Pug sat
rooted for a moment, then spurred his own horse. Pulling out his
sling, he let fly at a couple of targets, but couldn’t be sure
if the stones struck.

Suddenly Pug was in a place of calm in
the fighting. On all sides he could see figures in dark grey cloaks
and leather armor pouring out from the forest. They looked like
elves, save their hair was darker, and they shouted in a language
unpleasant to Pug’s ears. Arrows flew from the trees, emptying
saddles of Crydee horsemen.

Lying about were bodies of both
attackers and soldiers. Pug saw the lifeless bodies of a dozen men of
Carse, as well as Longbow’s two lead trackers, tied to stakes
in lifelike poses around the campfire. Scarlet bloodstains spotted
the white snow beside them. The ruse had worked, for the Duke had
ridden straight into the clearing, and now the trap was sprung.

Lord Borric’s voice rang out over
the fray “To me! To me! We are surrounded.”

Pug looked about for Tomas as he
frantically kicked his mount toward the Duke and his gathering men.
Arrows filled the air, and the screams of the dying echoed in the
glade. Borric shouted, “This way!” and the survivors
followed him. They crashed into the forest, riding over attacking
bowmen Shouts followed them while they galloped away from the ambush,
keeping low over the necks of their mounts, avoiding arrows and
low-hanging branches.

Pug frantically pulled his horse aside,
avoiding a large tree. He looked about, but could not see Tomas.
Fixing his gaze upon the back of another horseman, Pug determined to
concentrate on one thing only, not losing sight of the man’s
back. Strange loud cries could be heard from behind, and other voices
answered from one side. Pug’s mouth was dry and his hands
sweating in the heavy gloves he wore.

They sped through the forest, shouts
and cries echoing around them Pug lost track of the distance covered,
but he thought it surely a mile or more. Still the voices shouted in
the forest, calling to others the course of the Duke’s flight.

Suddenly Pug was crashing through the
thick underbrush, forcing his lathered, panting horse up a small but
steep rise. All around him was a gloom of grey and greens, broken
only by patches of white. Atop the rise the Duke waited, his sword
drawn, as others pulled up around him. Arutha sat by his father, his
face covered with perspiration in spite of the cold. Panting horses
and exhausted guards gathered around. Pug was relieved to see Tomas
beside Kulgan and Gardan.

When the last rider approached, Lord
Borric said, “How many?”

Gardan surveyed the survivors and said,
“We’ve lost eighteen men, have six wounded, and all the
mules and baggage were taken.”

Borric nodded. “Rest the horses a
moment. They’ll come.”

Arutha said, “Are we to stand,
Father?”

Borric shook his head. “There are
too many of them. At least a hundred struck the clearing.” He
spat. “We rode into that ambush like a rabbit into a snare.”
He glanced about “We’ve lost nearly half our company.”

Pug asked a soldier sitting beside him,
“Who were they?”

The soldier looked at Pug. “The
Brotherhood of the Dark Path, Squire, may Ka-hooli visit every one of
the bastards with piles,” he answered, invoking the vengeance
god. The soldier indicated a circle around them with his hand “Small
bands of them travel through the Green Heart, though they mostly live
in the mountains east of here, and way up in the Northlands. That was
more than I’d have bargained was around, curse the luck.”

Voices shouted from behind, and the
Duke said, “They come Ride!”

The survivors wheeled and rode off,
again racing through the trees ahead of their pursuers. Time became
suspended for Pug as he negotiated the dangerous course through the
dense forest. Twice men nearby screamed, whether from striking
branches or from arrows Pug didn’t know.

Again they came to a clearing, and the
Duke signaled a halt Gardan said, “Your grace, the horses can’t
endure much more of this.”

Borric struck his saddle horn in
frustration, his face dark with anger. “Damn them! And where
are we?”

Pug looked about. He had no idea of
where they stood in relationship to the original site of attack, and
from the looks on the faces around him, no one else did either.

Arutha said, “We must strike
eastward, Father, and make for the mountains.”

Borric nodded. “But which way
lies east?” The tall trees and overcast sky with its defused
sunlight conspired to deny them any point of reference.

Kulgan said, “One moment, your
grace,” and closed his eyes. Again shouts of pursuit echoed
through the trees, as Kulgan opened his eyes and pointed “That
way. There lies the east.” Without question or comment, the
Duke spurred his horse in the indicated direction, motioning for the
others to follow. Pug felt a strong urge to be near someone familiar
and tried to rejoin Tomas, but couldn’t make his way through
the press of riders. He swallowed hard and admitted to himself he was
badly scared. The grim faces of the nearby soldiers told him he was
not alone in that feeling.