Book 2: Chapter Eighteen

“It’s done,” said Cenric, a bulky, brown-haired man who’d become the spokesman for the former red-eyes. He spoke in a dull, tired tone. He and his remaining men had spent the entire morning building two massive funeral pyres, one for the red-eyes who’d died and another, larger one for the villagers.

Corec looked up from where he’d been conferring with Sarette. “Then line everyone up. I want to speak to them.”

Cenric trudged back to where the others were standing in a dispirited group, with Boktar keeping a close watch over them. Shavala leaned unobtrusively against a nearby building, her bow close at hand in case anyone tried running.

Cenric had held the rank of sergeant in the mercenary army, and was the only squad leader to have survived the previous day’s attack. Of the twenty-eight red-eyes who’d come after them, only eight still lived. Treya had used the last of her strength the previous night banishing whatever magic had been controlling the ten men who’d made it through the fight, but she’d passed out before she could heal the four who’d been wounded. Two had died of their injuries overnight, and she’d healed the other two once she’d woken up.

While Corec waited for them, he turned back to Sarette. “How bad is the storm tomorrow going to be? Will we be able to keep traveling?”

“At least for the next day or two. I’m not sure what will happen after that.”

“When will it start?”

“Around noon, I think. I’ll know better tomorrow.”

The former red-eyes gathered in a rough semblance of a line, Cenric at one end, and Des and Arnol at the other. Nobody had told the other red-eyes what the scars burned into the two men’s foreheads meant, but they gave them a wide berth anyway.

“We’re setting you loose,” Corec told them, channeling the gruff tone that Armsmaster Javin had always used back at Fort Hightower. “We’ll give you two days of food, and you can have your armor back—it’s got enough padding that you won’t freeze to death. But we want you gone immediately. You can keep your own coin pouches; you’ve all got enough money to get wherever you’re going.”

“What about our weapons?” one man asked.

“You’re not getting your weapons back after what you did here. You can have your belt knives, I suppose.”

“We didn’t mean to do it!” another man protested. “The voice made us!” They’d all given the same story as Des, about a voice forcing them to do things.

“Which is why I’m letting you live, and why I’m letting you go. Don’t push your luck or you’ll end up like the rest of your friends.” Corec had no way of knowing what sort of men they were, other than what Treya had told him about Des and Arnol, but he had no intention of arming a full squad of mercenaries and setting them loose to prey on the small villages that lined the foothills.

He waited for the men to quiet down, then continued talking. “How many of you are from around here? From anywhere in the plains?” He knew Des and Arnol were. Two other men raised their hands as well.

Corec doubted Treya would want to say farewell to the men she knew, so he said, “You four, get going. Head west and don’t come back. There’s a storm coming in tomorrow, so you’ll want to be well clear of this place.” He pointed to Katrin and Ellerie, who were standing nearby with a pile of equipment. “These two women have the armor and food we’re allowing you to take. Don’t give them any trouble or you’ll regret it.”

“What about them?” Arnol asked, pointing to the remaining men.

“They’re not your concern. Go.”

Corec waited while the four plainsmen gathered up their belongings and started out northwest, arguing about heading to some larger town they were familiar with. Before they were even out of earshot, one man had split away from the others to head due west instead.

Once they were gone, Corec turned back to the others. “Where are the rest of you from?”

It turned out Cenric was Larsonian, two of the others were hillfolk, and the last was from Tyrsall.

“All right,” Corec said. “You four, head south along the foothills. You’ll eventually reach the Mountain Road, and that leads straight to Tyrsall. Or, after you’re south of the mountains, the snow won’t be so bad and you can cut southwest across the countryside to the Trade Road, and go west from there.”

There was no guarantee the men wouldn’t meet up together once they were out of sight, but by not giving the second group a chance to discuss it with the first, Corec hoped it wouldn’t occur to them. Even without weapons, eight men together could be dangerous. He’d divided them up and left them their own coin pouches on purpose—if they could buy supplies, hopefully they wouldn’t turn to theft or violence.

“Please don’t make me go with them!” the man from Tyrsall protested, his voice cracking. He was barely a man, Corec realized. Underneath the wispy whiskers, he couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

“Why not?” Corec asked. “You’ve got the easiest trip, right back to Tyrsall.”

“I can’t! Not after what we… I never wanted to join up in the first place, but my brother said we had to after Pa died. Please, don’t make me go with them!”

The two hillfolk looked at the boy with disdain.

Corec sighed. One of the solutions he’d discussed with Ellerie, Sarette, and Boktar during the night had been to hold the former red-eyes as prisoners until they could find some sort of authority to turn them over to, but they’d decided it was too dangerous to keep that many men around.

Still, one person was easier to watch over than eight. “What’s your name?” Corec asked.

“Nedley.”

“Nedley, you can stay for now, as long as you make yourself useful. You do what Boktar tells you, and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“Yes, sir!” the boy said, making an awkward salute as he tried to face Corec and Boktar at the same time.

“I guess you’re my problem to deal with now,” Boktar told the boy. “Let’s go light those pyres so we can head out.” He strode off, and Nedley hurried to catch up.

Corec shrugged at Cenric. “I guess there’ll be three of you. We’ll take care of him. You know where you’re going?”

“I’ve seen a map of these parts before. I should be able to find the Mountain Road.”

“If you go back to Larso, stay away from Telfort. Treya thinks you’ll be safe from the magic—the voice—as long as you don’t get too close to whoever cast the spell in the first place.”

“I don’t plan to go anywhere near that bastard prince after what he did to me,” Cenric said coldly. “My wife and sister are in Highfell. I’ll get them and then turn right around and head back to the free lands.”

Corec nodded. “Good luck.”

The three former red-eyes stalked off, leaving Corec alone with Sarette.

“That still leaves enough food for us to get to the ruins and back, right?” he asked.

She was quiet for the moment as she did the math in her head. “Yes. Enough to get there, spend some time, then get back to Elmsford to restock, plus a few extra days as a buffer.” She changed the subject. “Do you think it’ll work, splitting them up like that?”

“It’s the best I can think of to make sure they don’t cause any trouble, without dragging them back to the High Guard as prisoners. Would your people even take them?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t commit their crimes in the Heights.”

“I’m not sure what sort of crime they committed at all if the spell forced them to do it. I couldn’t bring myself to kill them for that—they’re victims, too. But I hope Treya’s right, and that it can’t take control of them again.”

The men had all professed remorse over the things they’d done, but Corec had no way to tell if any of them were lying. He’d made them build the funeral pyres to reinforce any regret they felt.

“I wasn’t much help yesterday,” Sarette said.

“You mean during the fight? You did fine. It wasn’t your fault you got hurt.”

“Yes, it was. I froze, and I got hit.”

“You must have taken out, what, three of them by yourself?”

“Two. You helped me with the third. I could do better if you bonded me.”

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Corec finally realized where she’d been leading the conversation. “Even now that you know someone is trying to kill me?”

“You won the fight.”

“With a lot of help, including you.”

“I could help more if I was a stormrunner.”

“I can’t promise that it’ll help you with that.”

“I know, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

“And remember our deal—you’d need to stay with us until we figure out what we’re doing. After that, we’ll have a better idea of how much time you’ll need to spend with us. It’ll depend on what sort of jobs we look for.”

“Even if I can only be here part of the time, I’d still be of more use than I am now. And I’ve been talking to the girls—I think I’d like to travel, and see other places besides the mountains.” She waited, staring at him with an earnest look on her face, but before he could respond, Gregor returned, and everyone gathered around.

“I followed the path the villagers took up into the mountains,” the scout said. “It’s like those red-eyed soldiers told us—a lot of the people escaped.”

“Can we send them a messenger?” Ellerie asked. “To let them know it’s safe to come back?”

The few buildings that remained in the burned-out village weren’t much to come back to, but they’d be better than wandering around the mountains in the winter.

“They’re following the same path we’ll be taking,” Gregor said. “The snow’s deep and there are children with them, so we’ll likely catch up.”

Corec breathed a sigh of relief knowing that some of the village’s children had survived. That was the other reason he’d made the former red-eyes build the funeral pyres—he couldn’t bring himself to look at the bodies any more than he had to.

“Then as soon as we’re sure the pyres have burned down, we’ll head out,” he said.

Gregor scowled when he saw Boktar and Nedley return from their task. “We’ve picked up a new recruit? I thought you were going to send them away.”

“He’s just a boy,” Corec said. “We’ll keep him under control, or send him on his way.”

The scout shook his head and sighed. “I’ll help them pack the sleds.”

He intercepted Boktar and the former red-eye, and the three men went into the building where the group had spent the night. Bobo was already inside, continuing his work on Ellerie’s book, so Corec was left alone with the women.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked Sarette. “Whatever happens, it’ll take time. It won’t do anything right away.”

“I’ve talked to Treya about what it was like for her. But I trained as a stormrunner for years—I know what to do, I’m just not strong enough to do it.”

Corec looked around at the others, but no one raised any objections. Katrin and Shavala shrugged, leaving the decision up to him, while Ellerie and Treya gave him slight nods.

“Then let me see if I can figure this out,” he said, closing his eyes and concentrating. He’d never actually tried to cast the spell on purpose before, but Yelena had made him practice it over and over again. His other spells seemed to happen almost on their own, without any thought put into them, but this one required effort. It was something like tying together intricate knots using thread that only existed in his imagination. He followed the steps in his mind, and felt the familiar shifting that suggested he’d finished casting a spell, but his arm didn’t start itching. He thought he’d failed, but when he opened his eyes, there were faint blue lights moving around on Sarette’s brow, under the skin. They gradually took on the shape of three jagged, diagonal lines running parallel to each other.

“It’s done,” he said.

“I didn’t feel anything,” she replied.

“Let’s go get my mirror, so you can see it,” Katrin said. “Why did it show up already?” she asked Corec.

“I think it’s because I cast it the right way this time. Yelena said the itching and the delay were never supposed to be part of it.”

“Then you’ve skipped the worst part already,” Treya told Sarette. “Let’s find Katrin’s mirror, and then I can teach you to hide the rune.”

“Oh, yes. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Gregor.”

They led her away, leaving Corec alone with Ellerie.

“Thank you for dealing with the red-eyes,” she said. “I don’t think they would have listened to me.”

He shrugged. “I was the one they were after, so it was my responsibility. I just don’t understand why Prince Rusol would be working with a demon. There’s got to be something else going on, but for now, I need to decide what to do. I’ll be putting everyone in danger if I stay here.”

“If you go, then you’ll have to fight the next group by yourself,” Ellerie pointed out. “I hate to admit it, but we’re stronger together. Did you see what Shavala did? And Treya…I’ve never seen anything like that before. If we stay far away from Larso, this prince of yours can’t send a group much larger than this one, and now we know Treya can stop them.”

“What if he’s smarter next time, and sends archers?”

“I can only cast my arrow shield on myself, but when we get back to Snow Crown, I’ll see if there are any spell books for sale. I might be able to find a version that can cover us all. Maybe you can learn it too.”

Corec nodded. It was a good idea. “Well, I suppose we should help the others finish packing.”

The two of them walked back in almost-companionable silence.

#

Leena pressed on through the underbrush, following the nearly silent elves. When Dalanis, the leader of the scouts, had said she’d learn more at their camp, she’d assumed it was no more than a few hours away. That had been seven days ago, and they were still traveling east. She was supposed to be going south.

Were they spiriting her away, as the old stories suggested? She had a hard time believing that—they weren’t as scary in person as they’d been in the tales she’d heard as a child. More than anything, they seemed embarrassed about not being able to speak to her in a language she could understand.

She could simply Travel elsewhere, of course, but she had no way to tell them that. They didn’t know enough of the trade tongue to discuss anything more than simple concepts. On their first day together, she’d collapsed from exhaustion after only a few hours of brisk hiking through the forest, but she hadn’t been able to explain why. Dalanis had understood the word magic, but he seemed to think someone else had done something to her.

They’d been concerned, and had gone at an easier pace the next day, but it hadn’t been necessary. Without the fatigue that came from Seeking and Traveling, she’d been able to keep up with them easily. Or, at least, she could keep up when the ground was flat and the way was clear. The elves seemed to be picking their path at random, and they were just as likely to scramble up a brush-covered hill as they were to take an established game trail.

Each day, Leena had talked to Dalanis about letting her go south instead, preferably on her own, but he was insistent that she come back to their camp first.

“How much farther is it?” she asked him once again.

“Short,” he replied, but this time he added, “Much short.” That was new. Perhaps they were finally getting close.

And then, without any warning, they were there. The small but bustling village of wooden huts and log cabins wasn’t what Leena had been expecting as a camp, but this was obviously the place Dalanis had been looking for. The scouts split away from the group one by one, calling out greetings to others in the camp, and soon only Dalanis was left. The elven onlookers watched Leena curiously, but without surprise, as if outsiders were a common sight.

Dalanis waved to catch someone’s attention. A moment later, another elven man approached. This one was older, with graying hair, but he wore an outfit similar to the scouts. He spoke to Dalanis in Elven before turning to Leena with a smile.

“Welcome to Terril Forest and the western border camp, Leena,” he said in trade tongue. “My name is Gylvaren. Dalanis tells me he found you in the dragon’s territory?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I was told it would be safe.”

“Yes, the dragon is becoming a problem. You managed to make it quite far inside its territory, so perhaps you would have remained unnoticed, but it’s best to be safe.”

“Are you the human talker?”

Gylvaren laughed. “I apologize. With the dragon roaming so near the forest, our rangers have been spread thin, and we haven’t been able to include translators in every patrol. I speak several human languages. Not Sanvari, I’m afraid.”

“You know my people?” she asked.

“When I was young, I spent four years outside the forest on my travels. I didn’t stay long in Sanvar, though—I couldn’t get used to the heat. But the food was…interesting.”

“I’m on my way home. I’ve been trying to explain that I need to go south, but Dalanis insisted I come here instead.”

Gylvaren spoke to Dalanis in Elven again before turning back to her. “He wanted to provide you with directions away from the dragon. He couldn’t leave his patrol area, but he didn’t feel he could adequately describe a safe route through the forest for you to travel on your own. He brought you here because there’s a road you can follow. It leads down to the southwest border camp, and then on to South Corner.”

“Oh,” she said, then turned to Dalanis. “Thank you.” He’d mentioned the word road several times, but she hadn’t understood what he meant.

He nodded, grinning back at her.

“You’re welcome to stay here for the night,” Gylvaren said. “Do you need anything before you go?”

“I was planning to resupply in South Corner.”

“That’s still a long way from here, perhaps ten days if you make good time. Are you certain you’ll have enough food?”

“I can go faster. I’m a Traveler.”

“Yes?” he said, tilting his head to the side. It was obvious he didn’t understand the emphasis she’d used.

“I can teleport.”

“I do not know this word,” Gylvaren said.

That made sense. The word teleport was Zidari in origin, and trade tongue didn’t have a translation for it. Probably no trader had ever had need for one.

“It’s magic,” she said. “It lets me travel a long distance in an instant. That’s how I ended up in the dragon’s territory.”

“I’ve never heard of that before. I didn’t realize you were a mage.” He said something to Dalanis, who also seemed surprised.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I tried to describe it, but I couldn’t find the right words.”

“And this magic will let you reach South Corner quickly?”

“Yes. I can show you if you’d like.”

“Please.”

Leena Traveled.

In the instant of blackness during her teleport, she realized she’d made a mistake. She’d only planned to move a few feet to demonstrate the skill, so she hadn’t sought out a safe place first, but she’d become so used to Seeking a target before Traveling, she hadn’t bothered to fix a firm location in her mind.

She ended up five feet above the steep, thatched roof of a cottage. She landed with a thump, but the thatching held together and she rolled down the roof. She hit the ground face-first with a louder thump, barely managing to get her arms out in time to break her fall. She lay there for a moment, trying to get her thoughts in order, then slowly climbed to her feet. Her left arm gave a jolt of pain when she used it to push herself up, and her whole body ached, but she managed to stand.

Luckily, no one had seen her fall—she’d ended up in an alley.

She trudged to the street, then stared in surprise. This wasn’t part of the elven camp. It was a human town, and a big one at that, judging by how busy it was. A few buildings to the south, the street intersected with another, even larger one, full of people walking, riding, or driving wagons. There was no sign of the forest anywhere.

“Excuse me,” she said in trade tongue to an elderly woman who was walking past, carrying a bucket of water from a communal well, “could you tell me what town this is?”

The woman gave her an odd look. “It’s South Corner, of course,” she said, before going on her way.

Leena stared after her, stunned. From what she remembered from her map, South Corner must have been at least two hundred miles away from the elven border camp. She’d Traveled farther before, of course, but never to somewhere she’d actually wanted to go. Appearing fifteen feet above the ground was hardly something to brag about, but she’d just saved herself several days of travel, making up for the time she’d lost hiking through the forest.

Then she took stock of herself. She’d left her pack and her supplies in the elven camp, and her left arm hurt too much to move it.

Her coin pouch was still safe inside her coat, at least. It might be enough to get her home—she was far enough south now that she wouldn’t need as much cold weather gear.

With a sigh, she looked up and down the street for a temple. Before she did anything else, she needed to find a healer.