The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (25 page)

Dease shifted on his rock. "Llya, Eber's son, led us. He came to the Fael saying that he knew where Wyrr was buried and could lead us there.""There is always some unexpected twist," Alaan said. "Where did a child learn this skill? And why didn't he tell us this before? He might have saved us a journey."Dease shrugged. "He is a child of mystery, that one. Who can claim to understand him?"Alaan shook his head. "Come aboard. We have to press on, fire or no.""But can we pass the fire?" Fynnol asked. "Will we not be burned?""It has burned itself low now," Alaan answered, digging a pad-dle into the bank and straining to push them off. "There are some rocky hills not far off. Even Hafydd's fire will be hard-pressed to find fuel there."Dease clambered aboard, rocking the boat as it slowly gained way.

"I can't quite believe that I should find a such rough-hewn boat a luxury," the nobleman said, "but after the last day, it seems the most comfortable craft afloat to me.""Find yourself a berth, Lord Dease," Alaan said. "We will need you to take a turn at the paddles." Saying that, Alaan dug his own paddle into the river and sent the log boat quickly south.

Samul woke to armed men entering his chamber, swords drawn. He was allowed to dress, his hands were bound, and in a moment he was hustled down the stairs to the front entry, where Prince Michael waited. The men wore the evening-blue surcoats of the Wills family, and were not, by the look of them, men to be trifled with. The Prince had his hands bound behind his back, as Samul did, and a look of sadness and rage on his face.

There was a disturbance on the landing above, and Franny ap-peared in her nightclothes, her husband catching her at the top of the stairs. They struggled there a moment.

"No, Henri! He is my cousin!"

Henri had an arm around her waist and held one hand by the wrist. "The Prince of Innes is dead," he said. "Michael cannot help us now. We have different allies. There is no going back." He pulled her away, sobbing and cursing her husband, trying to scratch at his eyes.

And then Samul and Michael were pushed outside and hoisted into a cart.

It was still dark, but Samul could see his companion by the light of torches. He thought there might have been a tear on his cheek, but then he hung his head and was silent. The driver shook the reins, and the cart rolled forward, a mounted troop of Wills men-at-arms falling in around them.

Dawn was not far off, Carl thought. He crouched behind a tree, bow in hand, staring at a dark vein of road curling off into the wood below.

"Shoot the torchbearers last," Pwyll said. "The driver of the cart I'll shoot myself."Carl pulled back the arrow he had nocked, testing the bow Pwyll had given him. His heart was pounding madly, not from fear, but because they had run like madmen to reach this place before the men carrying off the Prince and Samul Renne. The ever-resourceful Pwyll had bows and quivers of arrows he had taken from some unlucky men-at-arms—perhaps the two they'd stum-bled over in the oat field.

Carl could hear Jamm gasping nearby. The thief was frightened. He wasn't much for a fight, especially one where they were out-numbered by trained men-at-arms, but Carl knew he would do his best, all the same. Pwyll, however, could not have seemed more calm. There were only eight men after all. Just a fair fight by his es-timation, Carl was sure.

The drumming of horses and the clatter of wheels sounded dully through the wood, then torches appeared, bobbing and wav-ing. The smell of smoke was carried down the dell by a night breeze.

Carl did not know the bow he was holding and would be lucky to hit anyone at all. But horses were large, and if the men rode close together, he might find some luck. He hoped only to miss his com-panions in the cart, which was why Pwyll insisted the driver be left for him—he'd used his bow.

Carl pulled the feathers back to his shoulder, feeling the bow flex.

"Not yet," Pwyll whispered.

Around the torches shadow horsemen began to take shape, rid-ing out of the gloom. The cart appeared, then the driver. Carl strained to see Michael and Samul in the back, but the light was too faint. He hoped they were lying down.

The riders drew nearer, growing in size it seemed.

"Now!" Pwyll whispered, and they let fly their arrows, pulling two more free. A horse rose up, and the riders drew their blades. Two more arrows flew, and at least one man toppled from his sad-dle. A horse spun around and crashed into another, an arrow in its face, Carl thought. A torch fell to the ground, then another was thrown, the riders realizing the light was their enemy. Several spurred their horses forward as the driverless cart shot ahead. Carl got one more arrow off, then drew his sword. The cart horse tum-bled to the ground below them, the cart turning over on top of it. Two more riders went down, their horses tripping on the doubled rope Pwyll had tied across the road.

Carl followed Pwyll down the slope, where the men-at-arms were trying to get up among panicked horses. Pwyll jumped into the midst of this, his sword swinging this way and that, men falling before him.

"Michael!" Carl called in the dark, afraid of slaying the men he meant to rescue. He cut at the head above a dark surcoat and felt the sickening thud of a sword striking flesh, then bone. Dodging a horse, he threw himself on another man, though this one had found THE SHADOW ROADS a sword. Two missed strokes, then the man went down, his leg cut from under him by Pwyll. And then all was silent but for the pounding of horses speeding into the dark. Jamm ran off and came back a moment later with a torch, examining each fallen man and taking his purse.

"They're not here," Pwyll said from the ruin of the cart. He dis-patched the horse, which could not rise,with one quick, sure blow.

"Michael!" Carl called again.

"Here!" came the reply.

"Up among the trees, I think," Jamm said, and held his torch aloft.

Samul and Michael came stumbling down the slope, their hands bound behind them. Jamm cut them free.

"Who's hurt?" Pwyll asked.

"I've twisted my ankle," Samul said, and Carl could see the Renne grimacing in the poor light.

"Can you walk?" asked Pwyll.

"Yes, but I don't know how far.""Pwyll?" the Prince said, recognizing the knight. "Are you our mysterious protector?""So it seems," the man-at-arms said. "You need weapons."Swords and daggers were quickly found, as well as a basket of food in the ruins of the cart. They set off,first along the road, then through a field of high corn. Samul was hobbling, and Carl and Michael helped him where they could.

Pwyll drove them on, silently, over the starlit land. If anything he was more wary than Jamm, and seemed to know the land almost as well. By sunrise Jamm had led them to one of his hiding places, beneath a curtain of willow branches in a dense copse of trees. A little stream ran nearby, and if they had not been hunted, Carl could hardly have imagined a more pleasant spot. Jamm un-wrapped the food that had been packed in the basket, and he and Carl fell on it like carrion crows.

"Well at least we got a meal and bath out of it," Samul said, eye-ing his hungry companions.

Prince Michael did not seem quite so philosophical. "I hope one day I have the chance to roast poor Franny's husband over a hot forge." He glanced at Carl. "Your father was right about Henri—thrice-worthless scoundrel!""I will take no satisfaction in that," Carl said. "If A'tanelle was our best hope, what are we to do?""The army," the Prince said. "I will go directly to my father's army. Let's see how the men-at-arms feel about Menwyn Wills usurping my father's place.""Lord Menwyn will know by now that you are on this side of the river trying to undermine his control of the army," said Pwyll, keeping his voice low. "He'll send many, many more men to find you. It is only a matter of time until we are caught.""Then we must make all haste," the Prince said, his voice shak-ing with rage over his betrayal. "Where is the army of Innes, now?""They were east of the Isle of Battle," Carl said, "when we es-caped a few days ago.""They have moved south," Pwyll said, and when the others looked at him. "I questioned some men-at-arms not two nights past. One had a great deal to say."Samul remembered the two men they'd found in the oats, re-membered their pale, still faces in the starlight.

"Armies don't move swiftly," Michael said. "We'll catch them."They fell silent for a while, each man alone with his thoughts. Samul took off his boot with difficulty and soaked his swollen foot in the cool waters of the stream. His jaw was sore from gritting his teeth.

"How did you come to be on this side of the river, Pwyll?" the Prince asked.

The knight shifted where he sprawled, raising himself up on one elbow. "I wish I had an answer for you, your grace—""Call me Michael. We're a company of beggars, here."Pwyll plucked up a long stem of grass and began to chew on the soft end. "After nearly being drowned in the Stillwater, I was spewed out into the river on a dark night. I'd lost my sword and boots and was battered and bruised; it was all I could do to stay afloat. Fortune sent a log drifting my way, and I managed to keep hold of it until I found the shore.

"I slipped up the bank and lay for a time in the trees, gathering my strength. When the sky began to brighten I realized I'd washed ashore on the wrong side of the river and went looking for a boat, too tired to manage the long swim. I thought I'd row across by night, but before I had gone a mile huntsmen happened upon me and seemed to think I was some kind of Renne spy. We had a dispute over that, as you might imagine, and I was forced to kill them with my dagger. Fortunately, they weren't skilled with the swords they carried. One of them gave me his boots and another his sword.""How many of them were there?""Oh, four or five," Pwyll said. "Are you going to eat all that food yourselves or will you give a bit to me?"Carl and Jamm moved the basket so Pwyll could reach it, and he went on with his story as he ate.

"There were no boats to be had, and I learned that the Prince of Innes had tried to invade the Isle of Battle and been defeated in this endeavor by Kel Renne. I knew then that all the boats on this side of the river would be gathered together and well guarded, which left me to swim the river. Unfortunately, the huntsmen I killed were found, and the countryside was suddenly swarming with men-at-arms, looking for me … or so I thought. It turns out they were looking for some spies who'd crossed the river a few nights later. I was forced to go inland, hiding by day and skulking about the countryside by night. And then I saw the four of you— two of whom I knew—so I followed you to see what you might be up to. You know the rest."They slept and stood watch by turns during the morning. Just after the sun reached its zenith they began to hear men calling out in the distance. Samul could see that both Jamm and Pwyll sat up, turning their heads this way and that listening to every small sound. If fortune smiled on them, these would be field workers or herds-men, but then they heard horses and, far off, a horn on the wind.

Pwyll was in a crouch now. He parted the curtain of willow branches, watched for a moment, then moved a dozen feet and did the same. Jamm looked out the other way.

"Should we climb up?" Samul wondered, gesturing to the tree, but Carl shook his head and motioned for silence—perhaps being treed was not such a good idea.

Carl had one of Pwyll's bows in hand though only a few arrows remained. Samul slipped his sword from its scabbard, feeling his mouth go dry. There were only four of them, and even with Pwyll on their side they wouldn't be a match for even a small company of mounted men. Pwyll and Carl had prevailed over their guards be-cause of surprise—the guards didn't know how many men they faced in the darkness—and because of the ferocity of their attack. A dozen men would take the five of them down quickly—though not without losses. Samul squeezed the hilt of his sword. This is what he'd wanted—a clean death in battle. An end to all his folly, where every decision he made seemed to go awry.

Horses could be heard.

"They're coming up the stream," Jamm whispered, and. plunged through the branches opposite. Samul followed, trying to go as quietly as he could. They wormed into a dense underbrush, but too late. A shout went up, and horses galloped toward them.

Samul heard arrows, and realized Pwyll and Carl were shooting. He leapt up from where he hid and saw the horsemen coming through the bush. Two went down but the others were on them in-stantly. Samul dodged and parried a hard blow that nearly took the sword from his hand. His bad ankle collapsed under him, and he went down awkwardly. A horseman aimed a stroke at him, but his horse stumbled, falling forward and throwing the rider. Samul struggled to his feet but the rider was up quickly, fending off Carl A'denne. The man found his balance and began to drive Carl back. Samul waded in, on the man's sword side, swinging at his arm, feinting at his knee. Despite his immense strength the man realized he was in trouble, up against two trained swordsmen. He shouted for help, but Carl managed to slash his forearm so that he dropped his sword. The man raised his hands in surrender, but Carl drove the point of his sword into man's exposed throat, yanking it free be-fore the man fell.

Carl turned to Samul, his face grim and determined. "There are no prisoners in this war," he said, and went to the aid of Jamm.

In a moment it was over, six men down, their horses milling about but for two that had been hamstrung and lay thrashing. Prince Michael dispatched both of these cleanly, turning to the oth-ers, his face contorted in fear and rage, sweat glistening on his cheeks. Jamm was finishing off the men who still lived, which Samul could not bear to see. This was not the kind of warfare he had been trained for.

"If the sounds of this little melee have been heard, every man-at-arms within half a league will be upon us," the Prince said grimly.

"Quiet," Jamm ordered. "Listen."They all stood gasping for breath, Samul favoring his injured ankle. It had almost cost him his life a moment ago. Pwyll and Carl caught the remaining horses and brought them under the cover of the willow.

"Samul?" Pwyll said. "Can you help?"The Renne went to the aid of his friends, calming the horses.

After a moment Jamm appeared. "I think fortune has smiled on us," the little man said. "Though we'll not be this lucky twice.""We're traveling too slowly," Pwyll said. "We need to put leagues between ourselves and this place. Sneaking about by night can only take us a small distance each day." He shook his head. "Not enough.""I agree, but what else can we do?" Samul asked.

"It is time for a bold stroke," Pwyll said, tying two horses to the tree. "Help me strip these corpses. We'll hide them in the bushes. Wash the blood out of their surcoats, and ride out into the daylight. There are companies of riders going this way and that, we'll hardly be noticed. At a distance we could be anyone. Up close… well, four of us can pass for men-at-arms. Jamm will do if he doesn't speak.""It's a crazy risk," Jamm said urgently.

"So is staying near here this night," Prince Michael said. "I agree with Pwyll.""Someone will find these dead horses," Jamm said. "What will you do with those?""Use the other horses to drag them into the wood," Carl said.

"Anyone who sees the flattened grass and bush will want to know what caused it." Pwyll considered a moment. "There might be nothing better to do than leave them where they are and hope no one discovers them."After some debate, they cut down bushes and hid the horses as best they could. The smell would give them away soon, anyway, as it was a warm day. They stripped the dead men and washed the blood out of their clothing as best they could. Jamm found a nee-dle and thread in a saddlebag and turned his hand to mending the rents caused by blade and arrow.

Samul Renne felt good to be a man-at-arms again, even if he was dressed in the purple and black of the House of Innes.

"There you are, Michael," Carl said, gazing at his companion. "A Prince of Innes again.""Just a renegade man-at-arms, I'm afraid," the Prince said.

They let the horses drink, and rode out of the protection of the trees. Pwyll led them up a nearby hill, where they could survey the countryside for some distance. Parties of riders and men on foot could be seen searching the hedgerows and woods.

"We'll have to make a show of searching as we go," Pwyll said. "But we must also make our way south with all haste. Once the dead horses and men are found the search will be on for men-at-arms dressed in purple and black. We need to be far away by morning."Pwyll and Jamm contrived to keep them distant from any other companies they saw that day, and when a company was in view Pwyll and the others would make a show of searching along hedgerows and under thickets. Near dusk they stopped at a peas-ant's cottage and bought food enough for dinner and to break their ￡8^33fast in the morning. As night fell they stopped to eat and let the horses graze awhile. Soon after, they were riding, under a clear, starry sky. If they were seen crossing the open fields, they would appear to be men-at-arms searching the countryside—and the local people didn't interfere with men-at-arms.