Assail (31 page)

‘Yes, we should. But … who are they?’

‘I should warn them.’

‘Warn them? Warn them about
what
?’

He handed her his weapons, water, and gear. ‘Take these. Hunker down. If I’m taken, just go on without me.’

Lyan stared, uncomprehending. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to talk to them.’ Hunched, he edged down the hillside.

‘Don’t be some kind of fool hero!’ she hissed after him.

This gave him pause. It reminded him of Ruthen’el’s words. But he wasn’t trying to be a hero; he was just trying to do these people a favour.

When he got close enough, he shouted, ‘You there! On the hilltop! Let me speak to your commander.’

The men and women guarding the perimeter of heaped wrecked carts and baggage all sprang to their feet. They scanned the hillsides, readied crossbows.

After a moment a gruff voice called out: ‘Yes? What is it? Show yourself.’

‘You can’t stay here,’ Kyle shouted. ‘You have to keep moving.’

‘Show yourself! Are you one of them?’

Damned fools. Couldn’t they tell he couldn’t possibly … oh, fine! He stood. The guards pointed. A man climbed the barricade: a fat fellow, in leather armour.

‘I see you there. So, a traveller like as ourselves.’ He waved Kyle up. ‘Very well, come. Join us.’

‘No. You’re in a death trap. Your only hope is to keep moving.’

The commander appeared taken aback for an instant, then he gave a great belly laugh. ‘We’re holding them off!’ He glanced about to his people. ‘Isn’t that so?’

Kyle resisted raising his hand to press it to his forehead. Blind idiot. ‘Listen – they’re coming in twos and threes, yes?’

The man frowned, losing patience. ‘Yes? What of it?’

‘They’re just using you. They’re sending their least experienced warriors to blood them. You don’t understand: it’s like a game to them. They’ve got you right where they want you.’

The fellow was scowling now, rubbing his bearded jaw. ‘Wait a moment … it’s
you
, isn’t it?
You’re
the one they’re after. You caused all this!’

Kyle raised a hand for a pause. ‘Now wait! I didn’t cause any of this …’

‘Kill him!’ the commander ordered. ‘Fire!’

Bows and crossbows thrummed. Kyle dived for cover. Bolts and arrows hissed through the grasses about him. ‘Get out there,’ the fellow bellowed. ‘Get his sword! It’s worth a fortune!’

Kyle ran hunched almost double, straight south. Bolts and arrows continued to punish the grass about him, but luckily none struck. One did slash his arm. He ran on until he judged it long enough, then cut due east. He kept glancing back to look for any pursuit but saw none. It appeared these men and women were unwilling to travel too far from the security of their redoubt.

Their voluntary burial ground, as far as he was concerned.

He jogged east until twilight came. Only then did he start to worry; he hadn’t really organized a firm rendezvous with Lyan. What if he’d lost her too? He assumed she’d been watching. Wouldn’t she have started east, knowing that this was his chosen direction?

He walked now in the open, scanned the gently rolling steppe lands as he went. It was getting cold as night gathered. Then a light flashed on a distant hillside. He raised a hand to shield his vision. It came again from north of him, flashing and flickering on and off. A signal? He set out jogging in that direction.

He came to a long winding hillock, not too tall, but broad with steep sides. A figure rose from the deep shadows there and descended towards him. He went to meet it.

It was Lyan. She held out his weapons and gear. He took it all and re-girt himself. Dorrin rose from cover nearby and came dragging the two heavy packs.

‘So,’ Lyan said. ‘That went well.’

Kyle just made a face.

‘Your diplomacy skills at work again, I see.’

He merely gestured, inviting her eastwards.

‘Making friends all over the region.’

He let out a long breath. ‘Try to help someone and what do you get?’

‘No good deed goes unpunished.’

‘No indeed.’

‘Now what?’ she asked. ‘Just going to leave them to be ground down?’

‘They deserve it. I recognized them. Slavers out of the south. A city named Kurzan. I have a particular dislike of slavers.’

‘Slavers! In truth? Then they do deserve it.’

He took a pack from Dorrin. ‘Thanks, lad. You’re doing just fine, you know?

‘Thank you, sir.’

Kyle laughed. ‘Sir? You don’t have to call me sir.’

‘Oh, but I should,’ the lad returned quite seriously. ‘All champions should be called sir. As a sign of respect.’

Kyle’s gaze snapped to Lyan, who looked away as if disinterested, but he thought her face a touch flushed.

‘Who says I am a champion?’ he said, still gazing over the lad to Lyan.

‘Oh, I’ve heard the stories too,’ Dorrin continued, unaware. ‘From my tutors. They said that Whiteblade cut through a ship’s chain a thick about as a man’s thigh.’

‘A wrist, perhaps,’ Kyle conceded.

‘That the sword Whiteblade cut a goddess that none other could touch.’

‘That is true.’

Lyan seemed to flinch at that, reddening even more.

‘They said Stonewielder broke the Shieldwall – though many in Fist claim it was just an earthquake.’

‘It was he,’ Kyle said, his voice hoarse and faint, and he looked away to scan the hillsides.

Lyan cleared her throat. ‘That’s enough, Dorrin.’ Then, to Kyle: ‘This sea to the east … it is the Sea of Gold, yes?’

He shook his head. ‘No. It is another. It has many names. My people called it the Sea of Terrors. Everyone knows it is cursed. We will not go near it.’

‘Then … what is our route?’

‘North, skirting its shore.’

‘Then … we remain within the Silent People’s territory?’

‘No. I understand their territory ends just to the north.’

‘And who is next? What murderous clans?’

Kyle did not answer immediately; he shaded his gaze to the west, squinted into the sunset, glanced away. ‘We’ll need to find a camp soon.’

‘What tribes?’ Lyan continued stubbornly.

His gaze lowered, he drew his hatchets, tested their edges with his thumbs, hooked them back into his belt. ‘There are stories,’ he began slowly. ‘Only stories. The further north we go the less I know of things.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘The Silent People’s territory ends north of here because they are afraid of those lands. As were my people.’

‘Who lives there?’

He cast her a quick bleak smile. ‘No one knows. We call it the Vanishing Lands. That is because those who venture there are never seen again. None have ever returned.’

Lyan halted. ‘And we are walking into it? You would … I would take Dorrin to such a terrible place? I would rather take my chances with this sea.’

Kyle halted as well. ‘Believe me, you would not. I know more of this sea than the north – that is why I would avoid it.’

‘There will be ships! Surely one will be headed south, away from these dreadful lands.’

‘There is only death on that sea. All agree it is cursed with madness.’

‘A few days on a ship will see us free of here!’

Kyle raised his eyes to the darkening cloudless dome of the sky. ‘There will be no ships coming south out of the Sea of Terrors.’

Lyan dropped her pack and waved a dismissal. ‘How do you know? Have you
seen
this? Countless ships are entering it now. Heading north even as we speak! Yes? Do you deny that?’

‘No, I do not deny that.’

‘Then why are you even arguing? They will come south again.’

Dorrin came and stood between them; he looked from Lyan to Kyle.

Kyle shook his head. ‘None of them will ever return.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, come now. Listen to yourself: “None will ever return.”
Some
will.’

He drew a sharp breath.

Dorrin announced loudly, ‘We need to camp. It’s late.’

Kyle clamped his jaws shut. Lyan glanced away. She clenched and unclenched her gauntleted hands.

Dorrin headed for the nearest hilltop. Kyle watched him go. After a time, he murmured ruefully, ‘Wise beyond his years.’

Lyan hitched up her pack and followed. ‘I’m glad one of us is.’

*

There was little talking the next morning. Kyle walked ahead and apart. He thought through yesterday’s conversation. How close could they get to the sea? And what of water? They were in desperate need. Yet the narrows could sometimes reverse their flow and seawater would wash into the basin. It was unhealthy to drink much of it, although some claimed it was the water itself – run-off from the great icefields and snows of the north – that carried the curse.

They passed the scene of an old attack: grass grew through the spokes of burnt cartwheels; tiny scavengers had gnawed the leather of scattered rusted equipment. A skull half bare of flesh grinned from the dusty dry earth. Its hair was long and black. Kyle scuffed dirt over it before Dorrin arrived.

Later, he and Lyan walked together. He cleared his throat. ‘We do need water …’ he began.

‘But as you say – if it is too dangerous …’ she answered. ‘And you should know. You’re the local. I should defer. I’m sorry … command is a hard habit to break.’

He laughed. ‘Yes it is. And I am sorry. I swear that if I see any ship headed south I will personally swim out and shake the captain’s hand.’

Lyan was quiet for a time, then she peered sideways at him, her brows raised. ‘You can swim?’

They walked east for four more days. The grasses grew taller here, and greener. Copses of brush and short trees occupied the depressions. Kyle sought out each hoping to find a pool or a soak. So far he had found none.

He did his best to maintain a watch for possible challengers but it was harder and harder to maintain the necessary heightened awareness and readiness. He felt that they were being watched; yet now these Silent warriors were keeping their distance. It was exhausting, and he was feeling the weakness and drain of lack of water. Dorrin hadn’t realized it yet, but he was now the only one drinking.

Kyle could sometimes feel moisture on his face in the breeze out of the east. White birds flew in the eastern sky. He stopped walking and gestured to the rolling horizon. ‘The sea is close. Just beyond those rises, perhaps. Some call this the Shore of Fear, or Anguish Coast.’

‘Pleasant names you lot have here.’

He grinned. ‘They are meant to keep people away.’

‘They don’t seem to be working.’

He nodded. ‘Unfortunately, they just seem to have piqued everyone’s interest.’

‘We turn north?’

He nodded again, wearily, already tired. ‘Yes. I wonder if we should start moving at night now.’

‘Dangerous. I’ve seen predators watching our camp at night. Jackals and spotted cats.’

‘Yes.’ He drew a sleeve across his brow, let the arm fall. ‘Perhaps I should head to the top of those hills. Have a look.’

‘We’ll all go.’

He eyed her; she still wore her heavy mail coat. Sweat ran in rivulets down her temples and her hair lay pressed and matted to her skull. Her eyes were sunken and dark. He nodded heavily. ‘Very well.’

The slope was gentle; in fact, it was hard to tell that they had reached a hilltop so lightly did the land rise and fall. He stopped, shaded his gaze in the harsh noon light. Between hills he could just make out the iron-grey shimmer of the sea. He raised his chin to Lyan. ‘There it is.’

She lifted her hand to her brow. ‘Looks harmless. We could reach it by the end of the day.’

‘Yes.’

‘But we won’t. So … what?’

He gestured north. ‘There are a few streams that run to the sea. We should come across one eventually.’

‘If we have the strength,’ she murmured; Dorrin was close now. ‘And what of our friends?’

He scanned the surrounding horizons. ‘I have the feeling that they’re letting us weaken.’

‘Not very fair of them.’

He drew a fortifying breath. ‘Well, it’s our own damned fault, isn’t it?’

Dorrin arrived to peer east. ‘So that is your Sea of Dread. I don’t like the look of it.’

‘Neither do I,’ Kyle agreed. He held out a hand, inviting Lyan northward, and they started off.

The next day Kyle sucked on stones. He pinched the skin of his hand and it did not fall back at all. The moisture coming off the sea was a torment, but no matter how much he feared the Silent warriors shadowing them his instincts told him that the true threat lay to the east.

Even so, if the Silent People’s strategy was to wait until they were falling down weak, then it was working. The next day he stopped Lyan from donning her mail coat. He’d found the poles of two dead saplings that he used to build a travois. He motioned to the packs. ‘Keep only what you need.’