The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (4 page)

"For the most part, now, they compete only on the tilt field, and with the Renné and Wills quiet, there is a peace of sorts over I much of the rest of the land between the mountains. I pray it j lasts a little longer." Alaan blew out the flame on his stick, gazed!

at it a moment, then tossed it on the fire. His charming facade | seemed to have slipped away and he looked tired and grim.” I think it's time for me to sleep, as much as I hate to give up you j pleasant company. Do you keep watch here?"Tarn shook his head, and the stranger rose, thanking them again for their kindness before going to the bundles he had j removed from his horse. When he had disappeared beyond a' wall to find some privacy, Fynnol turned to Tarn.” Well, what do you make of him, Cousin?" Tam cocked his head to one side.” I think you would spend many years with Alaan before you would know what | to make of him.""He seemed to think your family were renegades of some kind," Fynnol said, teasing.

"Every family in the Vale came escaping something," Tam said.” I never thought my family's story any different. Shall we sleep?" he said, rising. Baore looked up at him and then quickly away. Tam wondered if there would be three setting out downriver the next morning.

After they had rolled into their blankets Tam lay awake, looking up at the crescent moon, unable to sleep. We're all from away, his grandfather had said when Tam had asked him if it was true their family was not originally from the Vale. Some more recently than we—but all from away. It is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is there any great mystery. Like so many after the great war, my father was forced to flee, and brought his family north. We have earned our place here, Tam, and the people of the Vale—those who came before and those who found their way here after—have been good to us. He would say little more than that and likely that would have satisfied Tam—but they practiced the arts of war with a deadly earnestness in the Vale. Every boy spent uncounted hours learning to ride, bear a lance, and fight with the sword. The bowmen of the Vale were as good as any in the land between the mountains, Tam heard men boast. It was true that the people of the Vale had been forced to protect themselves over the years, but such proficiency in war did not come from farmers and tradesmen. Often his father had ridden out to patrol the road. There was some unrest in the distant south then, and a steady, thin stream of stragglers flowed up the old road, most looking for peace and safety—but not all. Tam was only a boy at the time, but he remembered his father leaving. All that returned was word of his death. He'd been buried beneath some unmarked mound, and no one remembered where it was. The earth rolled over in its sleep and hid the crescent moon behind the shoulder of a distant hill, and Tam felt sleep coming over him. A last memory of his father wending his way up the path from their door, the horses' hooves sounding dully on the packed earth—the poor beasts moving slowly and hanging their heads as though reluctant to leave. Tam came awake to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Path—?"

"Make no sound," Alaan said.” There are men in the wood nearby, and they don't approach like men who wish us well."Tarn sat up, straining to hear. The fire was ash now, emitting no light, but the smell of it was strong. Starlight fell into the ruin of the old tower, and, far below, the river tumbled among the rocks. The hollow sound of a boot on wood echoed dully, as though someone found unexpected roots in the darkness.

"I hear them," Tarn whispered. He would normally not be frightened of men in the dark—for likely they were doing as I Alaan had done and making sure Tarn and his companions were not cutthroats—but Alaan was clearly alarmed. He had a sword in his hand and seemed poised to use it.

Why do they seek him? Tam wondered. A low whist-whist \ sounded above him. Alaan's bird.

"I might have brought you ill fortune without meaning ' to," Alaan said, keeping his voice low.” If you have a blade or a bow, best to find it now."Tam pulled on his boots and snatched up his bow while Alaan woke the others. He crouched low, staring into the darkness. There were too many openings in the tumbledown walls. His eyes flicked from one to the other to another.

Something in the darkness. There is nothing so frightening as something hiding in the darkness.

"Who are they?" he heard Fynnol ask, as he scrambled up.

"Men to be avoided, I fear," Alaan said.” Follow me. Take nothing but weapons."He led them out of the ruin through an empty window, and the four went as silently as they could into the trees. Tam designated himself rear guard, straining to hear the sounds of pursuit.

What if Alaan is an outlaw? Tam wondered.

But he followed this thought no further. Heavy boot steps echoed through the ruin behind them.

"We are headed toward cliffs," Tam heard Fynnol hiss.

"I know a path," Alaan answered, not slowing. Branches whipped at Tarn's eyes, and bits of torn spider-web netted his face. He plunged on, following the others in almost total darkness. How Alaan kept to the trail was a mystery. Suddenly there was more light ahead, an opening in the trees—the road where it met the bridgehead, Tam was certain. Alaan brought them to a stop and turned back toward the others.” There are only three men on the bridge. They weren't expecting us to come this way." "But how did we get here?" Fynnol whispered.” There are bluffs between the bridge and the ruin." Alaan ignored this.” Listen to me. You've never encountered men like these. They are relentless in pursuit of their ends. Better they never know who you are. I will drive the men off the bridge. Cross over and don't stop until you're back in the Vale. Do you hear?" But Tam heard a noise from the wood, "They are behind us!" he whispered. The sound had not gone unnoticed by the men on the bridge. One of them called out, and Alaan answered as though he were a friend. And then he burst out into the open. Three men in dark surcoats stood at the bridgehead, swords and iron helms glinting in the starlight. Alaan didn't hesitate but was upon them, crying out as he swung his blade. The men did not stand their ground but fell away, one stumbling and falling to his knees. Alaan's sword flashed in the starlight and the fallen man sprawled facedown and did not move. A second man lost his sword and jumped back, clasping a hand to his arm, shouting in panic. Alaan drove the last man off the bridge and shouted to the Valemen.” Cross over. Quickly! Don't wait for me." Fynnol did not need to be urged and dashed onto the bridge.

Baore looked back over his shoulder, as though he would not leave Alaan alone, but Tarn pushed him ahead, and the two bolted onto the span behind Fynnol.

"Not our fight," Tam managed as they went, but the sounds of shouting and struggle behind made him wonder if they did the right thing. If Alaan was an outlaw, why had he sent them on and stayed to block the bridge?

Tam stopped, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and let fly | at the men swarming down onto the bridge. And then another and a third. A shaft sparked off the stone balustrade a foot from Tam, prompting Baore to grab Tam by the shoulder and drag him on.

The last sight he had was of the brigands hacking terribly at a figure down on the stone, his cloak fluttering in the breeze and cold starlight.

Then the men rallied and rushed out onto the bridge, chain mail ringing dully at each step. Tam and Baore ran. But as they reached the far bank they heard men pounding down the old road toward them.

"After me," Tam hissed, and plunged into the underwood. There was a steep path that led down to the river here. Even knowing where it was, Tam had trouble staying on the trail. He was sure that anyone unfamiliar with it wouldn't dare try to follow.

In a few moments they were on a sloping rock at the water's edge, where they bent double trying to catch their wind. They could hear men above them calling out and others on the bridge answering. Then an arrow glanced off the rock by Fynnol's foot.

"They're shooting from the bridge!" he yelled, leaping back into the shadow of the cliff. Something trundled through the bush, and then a good-sized rock splashed into the river. Arrows continued to fall.

Fynnol did not wait to consider the best course of action but plunged into the water, pulling himself along the cliff, struggling to keep his feet beneath him on the slippery stones.

"They're still coming down," Baore gasped as he jumped in after Fynnol. Tam spent two arrows shooting up at the men on the bridge, and followed the others into the water. He regretted leading them to the river now. If they went downstream with the current, the men on the bridge would likely shoot them as they passed, but to struggle upstream against the flow was going to be possible only for a while. He heard the first man land on the rock at the water's edge and more coming. With some effort Tam had kept his bowstring dry.” Steady me!" he said to Baore, and felt one strong hand take hold of his clothing at his back. Tam let go of the rock, but Baore would not let the current carry him away. He nocked an arrow and shot at the man he could just see, not twenty paces off. He heard the man cry out, and saw his shadow fall. A second man appeared, crouching on the rock. Tam shot again, and this man scrambled back up the path, out of sight. Tam gave his treasured yaka bow to the river then, and turned to follow the others. He could hear them breathing fast ahead of him, coughing up mouthfuls of the cold, metallic river. Cursing in their panic. Up, Tam thought. We have to go up. The cliff was striated and cracked, with hardy shrubs and ferns growing on the smallest ledges and from the narrow fissures. Here and there small pines and cedars seemed to grow from the rock itself. They might scramble up and hide, Tam thought. It might be possible. Arrows continued to search for them in the dark, and occasionally one would float past Tam. He hoped the others hadn't been hurt. An edge of rock came to Tarn's hand, and he stared up. A fang of stone leaned out slightly from the cliff—perhaps seven feet high—and a tree seemed to grow out from behind it. They could go up there, perhaps higher.” Fynnol," he whispered, trying to pitch his voice over the river but not loud enough for others to hear.” Come back. We have to go up here." Perhaps Baore could go on fighting the river, but Fynnol could not last much longer, Tam was sure, and he would not be far behind.

He felt Baore bump into him in the darkness, and heard Fynnol suck in a mouthful of water.

"We'll go up and hide beneath this tree. Give me a leg up." Tam dragged himself up, his wet boots slipping on the stone. The branch of cedar touched his head gently, as though alerting him to its presence in the dark, and he took hold of this offered hand and pulled himself up. He scrambled over the top of this rock and down into a fissure behind, pulling Fynnol after him, and then the two of them took Baore's hands. The big Valeman tumbled in on top of them.

They hunched down, shivering from the river, trying to make no sound. It was too dark to see the others' faces, but Tam could hear their quick breathing, sense them fighting panic. He strained to hear the sounds of their hunters in the dark. There was the occasional shout in the night, but these grew less frequent with time and Tam felt the edge of his fear blunt a little. They made themselves as comfortable as they could in their lair and waited.

Tam watched the last stars gutter in the gray, and then the familiar world emerged. Tam was sure they could not be seen where they hid, for the branches of the tree concealed them from anyone on the cliff or the bridge, and they were above any man who would venture into the river. But what to do, that was the question. They could hardly stay here forever.” I say we keep still and watch until noon," Fynnol said.' we see nothing, we go straight back to the Vale.""I'm with you, Cousin," Baore said softly.” We need to warn the others that there are such men about.""Such men?" Tam asked.” But who were they, and why did they murder Alaan?" No one had an answer.

Tam could not believe that the man who had shared their fire only the night before was dead, perhaps lured to that 'If

death by a desire for companionship—for it had certainly been their fire that had drawn the men in the darkness.” Alaan said he knew old Gallon. Perhaps we can find out something from him, or at least find some way to send a message to Alaan's kin." Tam crawled up to the edge of the rock and looked out through the branches of the tree.” What do you see?" Fynnol asked, ever impatient.” No men. No—" Tam stopped, sure that he was not looking at the right place on the bank, but after a moment he was forced to admit the truth.” There is no luck for us! The boat is gone!" Fynnol and Baore scrambled up beside him. Tam heard Fynnol groan, but Baore said nothing. He and Tam sank back down behind the rock. Still none of them spoke. The loss of the boat and their long held dream to journey down the river was overshadowed by their relief at being alive. Fynnol kept watch, and Tam and Baore sat quietly with their thoughts.” I'll feel the fool cowering here if these bandits are gone," Fynnol whispered down to them.” Hey up! What's that I hear?" The three fell silent, trying to separate the voice of the river from some faint sound....” Is it a flute?" Baore asked.” Singing. I'm sure I heard singing," Tam said. A moment later one of the great horses of the Fael appeared, twenty-two hands tall, and behind it one of the wanderers' colorful carts. On the high seat Tam could see a man and woman, raven-black hair wafting in the breeze funneling down the gorge. Black wanderers the people of the Vale called them, for the color of their hair and eyes. Fever bringers they were called as well, for the night fever they were said to have spread across the land between the mountains.” I would say it is safe for us to venture out," Fynnol said, heaving himself up the rock and down into the running river. He looked back up at the others, grinning.” I don't think even brave brigands would risk angering our wandering friends.""Do not assume they are friends, Fynnol," Tarn cautioned as he followed his cousin into the water.” These might not be the Fael we know."The current took hold of Tarn and carried him quickly down to the path—the place he had shot a man the night before—but if blood had been spilled upon the rocks, the river had washed them clean. The events of the night seemed unreal suddenly, as though it had all been a bad dream and nothing more. The path seemed especially steep after a cold night spent cramped and frightened. Fynnol stopped once to rest. Eventually they emerged into a clearing just as one of the great carts rolled by.