Fire And Ice (Book 1) (64 page)

             
“Maybe I should have left the last part out.” 

             
“Don’t forget everyone keeps saying he is mad.”

             
“Okay.  Next time I will remember that.”

             
Coran looked at him like he was crazy.  “Next time?”

             
There was no chance for a response.  Two figures emerged from the woods into the camp.  One was taller than the other and from the outline he had a bristling beard.  Coran could see his eyes which were opened wide and very wild.  “Which one of you said that!”  Gorod demanded.

             
“That would be me.”  Devon raised a hand and waved it to be sure the man would know who was talking.

             
“That one is mine,” Gorod stated to his companion and stepped forward.  The other one came at Coran with a long handled ax in his hands.

             
Coran drew his sword and waited.  From the other two he heard insults shouted between them and the clash of their weapons as they fought.  Coran’s opponent came forward, his ax spinning.  It was different than facing a sword, with the gracefulness of the swinging arcs, but not enough.  As their blades met his opponent tried to hook the ax head around his sword and pull it from his grip.  Instead Coran twisted his wrist and slipped the sword free.  His thrust went through the Northman’s chest.               Pulling his sword out slowly, he went to the aid of his friend who was being hard pressed by the larger man’s heavy bladed sword.  It was not Gorod’s skill that had Devon retreating, but rather the way he savagely threw himself into the attack with no thought for his own safety.  They entered an open area in the trees as they fought, and the moonlight flooded over them.  Gorod was a very big man, with wavy hair and a bristling beard as he had thought.  A cut on his face proved that Devon was not yet completely overwhelmed.  As it was, his friend’s face was determined and becoming strained.  Coran knew that face well.  He had sparred against the man for too long not to know it meant he was getting desperate.  Coran stepped next to Devon with his sword out, challenging the mad man. 

             
Gorod was more than ready for the challenge and Coran now knew how his friend felt.  It took an intense moment of adjustment before he started to turn aside the attacks with some confidence.  As it was, the towering Gorod continued to push his way forward, never taking a retreating step.  The large Northern blade sent jolts up Coran’s arms with every blow he managed to deflect.  Worse, Gorod didn’t seem to be tiring at all.  Coran had to admit that the Northman was almost more than he could handle.  He was left with no choice.  He let himself go as he had in Crecy.  He gave himself over to his instincts.  After that Gorod’s attempts to reach him were futile. 

             
“Give up, Gorod,” he said to give him a chance at least now that he was sure of the result.  The Northman refused of course.  He was frothing at the mouth as he charged.  The sword sliding through him came as a complete surprise.  With mouth open and eyes wide he fell backward onto the layer of snow.  The clean white substance was quickly stained with red.                             

             
Devon stumbled up to his side breathing heavily and with his sword hanging from his hand.  “I guess you were right.” 

             
“About what?”

             
“I should not have insulted him.”

             
They glanced at each other and for some reason it seemed very funny at the moment.  They both laughed in the silence of the night. 

             
After their laughter died they cleaned and sheathed their blades.  Then they stood around seeing the bodies on the ground. 

             
“We need to find the girl,” Coran stated.

             
“Do you want to look for her now or wait until light?”

             
They wouldn’t be able to see much in the dark.  It would be almost impossible to find their camp without light enough to follow any tracks.  “I guess we will have to wait until daybreak.”  He sighed.  He didn’t like the idea of leaving her out in the dark alone.  If she was alone.

             
“It will be all right,” Devon told him.  “Sunrise is not far off.  It is later then you think.”

             
Coran looked to the sky in the east, but forgot that he couldn’t see through the trees.  “Let’s get the horses ready.”  That way they would be ready to leave as soon as there was enough light.

             
“Right.”

             
The sky brightened enough for the light to reach them even under the trees.  As soon as he could see the ground, Coran was scanning it for tracks that would lead them to Gorod’s camp.  He couldn’t shake off the feeling of urgency that came to him.  He had to find her. 

             
Devon brought up the saddled horses to where he had stopped a good distance from their camp.  Coran took the reins of his horse and led the animal so he could be closer to the ground.  Footprints were all he needed to back track their attacker’s trail.  They followed it for most of the morning when they finally came across a break in the trees.  A stream meandered its way down a gentle slope between tan colored tents.  There were six of them set up in the clearing. 

             
Coran stopped to listen for any sign of someone being present.  He heard nothing.  “Check the tents.”  He suited his own words by dashing into the closest one.  There was a pallet of unrolled blankets on one side and some sacks in the other.  Containing ill-gotten loot no doubt.  He checked a second and found nothing again.

             
“Over here!”  Devon called from across the camp.

             
Coran ran to the tent and peered inside.  Devon was holding a hand out to a girl about fourteen with long blonde hair that was disheveled.  Her red and yellow dress that must have been quite pretty at one time was torn in several places.  Her face and hands were smeared with dirt.  She took Devon’s hand and allowed him to pull her from the tent.  Coran backed out of the way.

             
“It is all right,” Devon told her kindly.  “We are here to take you home.”

             
She looked at them blankly, as if in shock.  It took her a few moments to understand.  When she finally seemed to comprehend she started to cry.  Devon held her for a long time until she could talk.

             
“I was so scared.  I thought he was going to...”  She could not finish the sentence.  She didn’t have to.

             
“You are safe now.”  Devon’s tone was as gentle as Coran has ever heard it. 

             
They checked her over for injuries and she seemed fine except for the rope marks on her ankles and wrists.  “I am all right,” she assured them.  “That big one was going to.. do things to me.”  She shuddered.  “The others convinced him that I would be worth more for ransom if I was untouched and taken care of.  He still talked about it though.  He talked about it all the time.  And he said if anyone came to rescue me he would kill me before letting me go.”  Her emotional look took them both in.  “Thank you.”

             
“Forget it,” Devon told her. 

             
“Did you kill him?” she asked suddenly, fiercely.

             
“Yes.”

             
Then she cried again.  Devon stood and the two of them left the girl alone for the moment so she could weep without them watching.  “We have to take her home.  She needs her family.” 

             
“You have to,” Coran corrected.

             
Devon stared at him for a minute until a frown blossomed on his face.  “That was your intention all along,” he accused.  “You planned to have me take her back without you.  You never intended for me to go to Herrinhall.”

             
“I am sorry, but it is for the best.  As you said, she needs to go home and I don’t have the time to take her there.”  Coran glanced at the girl sitting in the snow, then back at his friend.  “You must take her back yourself.  My path leads me to Herrinhall.  Yours does not.”  He had no intention of risking his friend's life in Herrinhall.  Since learning of the potential conflict here his resolve was doubled.  It was reasonable to assume that tensions would be running just as high with the Northmen as with the Midians of Northwatch.  If they found a Midian in their midst the results would be predictable.  Coran, having the blood of the North in his veins at least had a chance to avoid that fate.  Devon would have no such protection. 

             
“If I return without you Katelyn will string me up and hang me from the walls,” Devon stated with a smile.               

             
“I need you to look after her for me.  Remember, there is a spy close to her.  Naras admitted that much.  You have to protect her for me.  Okay?”              

             
Devon didn’t take long to think about it.  “Consider it done.”  He stuck out his hand and Coran clasped it warmly.

Chapter 33

Finding the Way

              The wind picked up a bit as they rode side by side towards the border.  Devon glanced at the blonde girl riding the deceased Irne’s brown horse next to him.  She wore one of the heavy coats that hung down well past her knees, borrowed from one of her abductors.  He found out her name was Kurina.  She had high cheekbones and a narrow nose on a prominent face.  After her initial jubilance at being rescued she withdrew into herself.  Perhaps fearing he was not who he said he was.  Or perhaps it was her way of excising the nightmare of her captivity.  She remained reticent after they left Coran and only became more open after a couple of days together.  She was still quiet most of the time but it was a good sign that she might be recovering emotionally.

             
“Almost there now,” he said conversationally.  “Another day at the most.”

             
She nodded absently.

             
He was about to say more in an attempt to get her talking when dark shapes appeared against the white of the landscape.  At first he thought they might be trees in the distance, but then noticed that they were moving.  On closer inspection he saw a lot of them moving in their direction.  At the front was visible a banner fluttering in the wind.  It bore the crossed swords on a field of white.  Lord Nevil Digala had crossed the border.  All they needed now was for a war party of savage Northmen to appear, yelling and waving axes in the air.  He scanned the horizon behind them and was relieved to see nothing.

             
Almost upon them the column stopped and the man in the lead stared at Kurina with his mouth open in shock.  Lord Nevil was a rather plain faced man, almost ugly in his armor and helmet.  He had on a long gray cloak for the weather.  “Kurina!?” he finally spoke and rode to her.  “How can this be?  What happened?”

             
Kurina hugged him from the saddle and explained everything.  She used more words than she had since being rescued.  She told him how she was taken, and assured him that she was treated well- omitting the hate filled words of Gorod.  Then she explained how Devon and Coran had shown up one morning and told her they were taking her home.  That led to Devon having to explain how they found out where she was and about the rescue. 

             
When he was finished Lord Nevil frowned at the ground.  “I have heard of Gorod.  That it was all a plan to keep me here in the north is vexing.  It is too bad that I could not deal with the murderer myself.”

             
“I thought you might feel that way, so I brought you something.”  Devon untied a sack that was hanging low from the rear of his horse and handed it over to the Lord of Northwatch. 

             
Nevil reached in suspiciously and removed the contents.  He pulled out the head of Gorod by thick locks of blonde hair.  Kurina looked away from the sight.  “I thank you, Devon.  But to have proof of his death is enough.”  He tossed the head into the snow with disgust.  “Let the scavengers have it.”  Turning his horse he led them back to the column.  “I owe you a great debt, Devon Anders, and your friend too when I meet him.  Kurina is the only family I have left.  If there is anything you require?”

             
What happened to the rest of his family was a question for another time.  “Actually, there is something.  Summerhall needs your help.  If you would accompany me south with your soldiers, it would be greatly appreciated.”

             
“There is no need for me to stay here anymore, thanks to you.  I can lead them south as well as north,” Nevil decided.  He turned to Kurina riding by his left stirrup.  “I am not going to let you out of my sight again.  We will stop and get you cleaned up before continuing southward.”

             
“Yes, Uncle.”  The girl smiled up at the man warmly.               Devon turned his head to look back north.  He didn’t like leaving his friend, it felt as if he was abandoning him.  It was probably for the best though.  “She is going to tie me up and hang me from the walls by my ankles,” he said to himself and shook his head.

             
“What was that?”  Nevil asked.

             
“Nothing.  Just thinking out loud.”  Devon resumed following the Lord and his niece as the column began to turn around.  At least there would be no war between Midia and the North.  Not today, and hopefully never.

              The wind picked up as Coran found the ford and his mount splashed across the chill waters of the East Wolf.  The cold air brought with it the first flurries of snow that intensified as the day wore on until it became an all out blizzard.  He wrapped the cloak around him as a shield against the pelting snow.  The wind swirled around his cowl, stinging his eyes and hunching him over in the saddle.  His body stiffened from the bone chilling blasts of air.  His feet and hands were slowly losing their sense feeling.  Desperate to get his circulation going he dismounted and led his loyal black mount.

             
It seemed that the northern winds were trying to make up for the overlong warmth all at once.  In the span of a day the temperature dropped from what he would call mildly cold to down right frigid- the worst of the winters in Tyelin. 

             
After what seemed like hours, exhaustion from trudging through the deepening drifts wore him down.  At that moment he missed the sun baked desert of the East.  Grunting with the effort he placed one frozen foot in front of the other, then repeated the process with his other foot.  Finally he had to remount and let the horse carry him a ways.  The driving snow obscured everything more than a few paces in front of him.  Despite the walking his feet and hands were still numb.  He knew that he had to find shelter soon or he was going to die.  He was no stranger to tales of frozen bodies being found in the mountains, both man and beast.   

             
“I did not travel all this way to have it end here,” he said stubbornly to the air or his horse if the animal cared to listen.  “I made it to the East and back, made it through more than one attack on my life.  I am not going to die now.”

             
He kept himself going by thinking of other things, such as seeing the white walls of Summerhall with the sun high in the sky.  He remembered Shirri and her wild eyes and her temper.  He thought of Katelyn in that blue dress she wore at her birthday celebration.  That was the first time he really saw her as something other than a friend or a little girl.  After a while his thoughts even drifted to his mother, her smiling face full of love for him and his father.

             
He shook himself awake.  It wouldn’t be a good idea to fall asleep now.  He thought of building some sort of shelter, but knew it was too late for that.  He could barely move.  His eyes threatened to close again and he forced them open as the wind screamed around him. 

             
At first he thought it was a mirage, a vision brought on by his condition, but it grew larger as he got closer.  There were vertical planks of wood in front of him.  They continued to the right and the left.  His horse turned to walk along side the obstruction.  The planks ended and he turned around a corner.  The building sheltered him from the worst of the wind.  There was a door.  Stretching out his stiff hands he pulled on the handle and the door squeaked open on rusty hinges.  His mount needed no encouragement to ride into the welcoming shelter.  He had to lean over in the saddle to fit under the frame.  There were two separated stalls along one side and a couple bales of hay on the other.  It was a stable.  A small one, but it would do nicely.  

             
Coran slipped slowly out of the saddle and held to the pommel until he was sure he could stand.  Forcing himself to move he paced the dozen feet that was the length of the stable until he could feel his feet again.  Pain blossomed in his fingers and toes as they warmed.  From what he could remember that was a good sign.  It was still cold in the building, but nothing like being exposed to the wind outside.  When he could move his fingers enough he unsaddled the black and rubbed him down with a hand full of straw.  Then he led the animal into one of the stalls and provided it with hay.  He also found some oatcakes in a corner to feed him.  The horse whinnied gratefully after finishing off the unexpected meal.

             
His faithful mount settled for the moment, he returned to caring for himself.  He shook out his cloak and looked around for a place to start a fire, but there were strands of straw everywhere.  The place would go up like a torch.  He did find a pail half filled with a mixture of water and ice.  Using his knife he broke up the ice chunks and stirred them into the water.  He found a cup, dipped into the pail, and took a drink.  The cold liquid numbed his throat as it slid down. 

             
He took his blankets and unrolled them out onto the dirt and straw covered floor.  Before laying down he went through his saddle bags to inventory what he had left.  There was still plenty of the dried meat.  It was tough to chew, but it filled you up.  One small package of dried fruit was left as well.  That would do for variety.  If he had the chance to purchase some supplies he had the money for it.  Katelyn had persuaded him to take a pouch full of coins for his journey.  He checked the other bag and beneath the spare shirt that was stuffed towards the bottom he felt a smooth cloth.  Pulling it out he saw what it was.  A blue, silk scarf.  He smiled at the memories that accompanied the piece of cloth.  She must have put it there before he left.  It gave him pleasant thoughts to go to sleep with.

             
The storm continued for the rest of the day and part of the night.  By the next morning the sky was clear again.  He emerged from the stable to the sight of a half a foot of new snow.  It was going to be a hard day’s travel if he had to break a trail through that. 

             
It was slow going for the next two days until he came across a road where the snow had been packed down by previous travelers.  It might be risky coming across Northerners, but his horse was tired and it was taking much too long traveling over the rougher ground.  It must be almost the middle of winter by now.  That he guessed according to the length of the nights.

             
He was thinking of looking for a sheltered spot for the night when horsemen appeared coming around the next bend in the road.  He glanced to the sides of the road, but it was already too late.  They had spotted him, and if he ran off they would surely follow.  There was no choice but to keep going as if he had the right to be there.

             
They closed the distance and instead of moving to one side so he could pass they halted, blocking the way.  Luckily there were only two of them.  The one to his right had shoulder length blonde hair, braided at the sides and a full, somewhat well kept beard.  The other was big even for Northman standards.  His full head of blond hair and thick beard accentuated his size.  They both had axes at their hips.  The second man’s was a cruel looking, double headed one with a long handle.  He could imagine what a weapon like that could do to armor.  Coran reined in a few feet away. Both of them had to be in their late twenties to early thirties.  They wore clothing that involved a lot of fur.  He was envious since it was probably warmer than what he wore.

             
“What do we have here?” the blonde braided one said amusingly, but his eyes held suspicion.  “A Midian all alone.  Where are you going, Midian?”              

             
Coran tried to assess the two men.  The braided one obviously preferred a fight to talking.  The second man was watching him with interest.  If either of them was in charge it was him.  “Herrinhall.”  He didn’t think lying would do him any good.

             
“You’re going the wrong way then,” the first told him.  “Unless you are lying.”

             
The wrong way?  Maybe he should have taken that turn off this morning.  “Then I would appreciate any directions you might give me.  As you might have guessed I am not familiar with the land.”  He tried to sound polite, but it might have come off as flippant.

             
The blonde’s face frowned in anger.  “I do not care for your tone.”  He gripped the handle of his ax. 

             
“Raise it and I will kill you,” Coran told him.  His voice conveyed the threat.  He thought he could carry through with it too.  Certainly with the shorter of the two.  It was the larger man who stayed his hand.  Coran recognized someone who was dangerous.

             
The blonde started to anyway, but a word from his companion stopped him.  “I wouldn’t do that Kjell.  I believe him.”

             
“Are you crazy, Storvik?” Kjell said in disbelief.  “He is just a boy.”

             
“His face is young, but not his eyes,” Storvik explained slowly.  “Why do you risk your life to go to Herrinhall?”  He addressed the question to Coran.

             
“I was sent by my Queen.”

             
“What Queen would that be?”  Storvik asked.  He did not speak mockingly. The question sounded rhetorical, like he already knew the answer.