Inheritance (41 page)

Jenrosa was taken aback by Kumul’s fierceness, and could not help wondering if he had been speaking as much in his own defense as that of Lynan’s cause, and in turn it made her think about the conflict going on inside his heart. Kumul was—still was, in his mind, she was sure—Constable of Grenda Lear, and it was his duty to put things right in the kingdom. She wished she could have some of his nobility of purpose, but for her the goals were more immediate: to rescue Lynan. It occurred to her then that she and Kumul had more in common than she would have thought possible. She studied the giant more carefully, and for a moment thought she could see the man beneath the constable’s livery and responsibilities. His regard for Lynan was due more than his loyalty to the youth or to the memory of the general. He was more like a father to Lynan than a guardian, and he was fighting for his son’s life That insight made her understand at last how she regarded Lynan. He seemed like a brother to her, and not a lover. Did that make Kumul her father, then? The thought made her smile. No, not a father. Something more perhaps, something she could not yet describe nor properly give voice to. She blushed involuntarily and turned her gaze out over the river. These were the stirring of feelings she did not ever properly understand herself.

Ager lay down on the deck and shaded his eyes from the sun. “Well, there’s no point in worrying about what to do next until we reach Daavis. I’m going to get some sleep.”

Kumul grunted, and looked in no mood to sleep. Jenrosa left them to stand at the stern and looked down into the river’s brown water. For a moment she wished she was a fish down there, gliding along in life without a care in the world.

No you don’t
, she told herself.
For the first time ever you’re actually starting to enjoy your life
.

The thought made her smile for the second time.

Until they reached the base of the wooded crest, both Lynan and Gudon rode on the horse, but Lynan dismounted as the slope increased to reduce the animal’s load and to guide it over jutting roots. Gudon hung on as best he could, not once complaining about his badly wounded leg. About midday, they came across a small stream, and Lynan called a halt. He eased Gudon off the saddle and made him comfortable before applying more of the Chett’s haethu.

“I should bandage it,” Lynan told him.

Gudon shook his head. “It has stopped bleeding. Truth, air is the best thing for it.”

“It will go bad.”

Gudon held up the bottle of haethu. “Not with this on it, little master.” He offered the bottle to Lynan. “Put some on your wound. It will heal more quickly.”

Lynan dabbed some on experimentally. The wound and the tips of his fingers became numb almost instantly. He handed the bottle back with thanks.

“Will you be all right by yourself? I have to find us something to eat.”

“We should have taken some of the dead jaizru with us. They make a good stew.”

Lynan’s face wrinkled in disgust. “After what happened this morning, I could never eat one.”

“But they were prepared to eat you; it is only just to eat them in turn.”

Lynan did not have to search far for food. He found berries and nuts and a colony of mushrooms, and on his way back discovered the white flowers of honey tubes. The pair ate quickly, then drank their fill from the stream.

“This crest is near the middle of the Ufero Mountains,” Gudon told Lynan. “I came east this way many, many years ago. If we continue northwest, we will stay under cover and find plenty of streams and food until we get to the other side of the range.”

“And then what?”

“From there, you must decide what to do next. I must go to the Oceans of Grass. It is time for me to go back to my people. But you can head north to Haxus or back south, if you wish.”

“I was taken from friends. They will be looking for me.”

“Where were you headed?”

“The Oceans of Grass.”

Gudon looked surprised. “It is rare for people from the south to go there.”

“We had our reasons,” Lynan said darkly.

“I do not doubt it.” Gudon slapped Lynan’s shoulder. “Then we must go on together. Your friends will come and look for you there.”

“Not if they think I’m dead.”

“If they truly are your friends, they will know you are still alive, little master.”

“Please, Gudon, stop calling me that. I am not your master.”

Before Lynan could react, Gudon reached out and put his hand under Lynan’s shirt and brought out the Key of Union. “Forgive me, but you are wrong.”

Lynan grabbed it back and hid it again. “How did you know… ?”

“When the beneficent master brought you aboard my barge, the Key was hanging loose from your neck. I recognized it, of course. What Chett wouldn’t? It is the symbol of your family’s rule over us. I must have looked too hard, for Prado struck me down.”

Lynan retreated from Gudon. “What will you do about it?” he asked suspiciously.

“What I am doing now. Helping you get to safety.”

Lynan swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have learned to trust very few.”

“Then if you learn to trust me, I will count it as an honor… your Majesty.”

Lynan shook his head. “No. I am not king. My sister, Areava, rules in Kendra.”

“So we on the river had heard,” Gudon said carefully. “I will not apologize for calling you what I did, but best I take you to my people. There are those there who will grant you refuge, and perhaps more.”

“More?” Lynan asked, his heart skipping a beat.

“I cannot say. You must go and see for yourself.”

They set off again as soon as the horse had rested. The ground became rockier and their going slower. The trees closed in around them and the air became heavy and moist.

After a while, Lynan said: “How long did you pilot a barge?”

“Oh, many years. My youth was spent on the river.”

“But you did not set out to be a pilot?”

“No. I did not know how my journey from the Oceans of Grass would end. Destiny made my feet follow the path to the Barda.”

“Destiny and instruction,” Lynan said quietly.

“Now what can the little master mean by that?”

“As a pilot, you have reason to travel between the capitals of Hume and Chandra, you listen to gossip and tales from your passengers, you see what cargo is being carried, including the movement of armies, and you have an excuse to talk to travelers.”

Gudon smiled easily. “Destiny takes many shapes and forms. In my case, it was not a king but a princess, although she is a queen now. And it is my turn to ask you your question: what will you do about it?”

“What I am doing now,” Lynan replied without trying to hide the irony. “Helping you get to safety.”

The pilot saw the deserted barge and swore loudly. Kumul stood up to see what the problem was.

“Poor Gudon!” the pilot wailed. “He did not deserve such a fate!”

By now Ager and Jenrosa were standing as well. It did not take them long to see what the pilot was keening about.

“Is that… ?” Jenrosa started, but could not finish the question. She did not want to know the answer.

“Take us closer!” Kumul told the pilot.

“I do not dare! See the spear trees, and how some of their branches end below the water? They are holding jaizru nests! If we get too close, they may attack us as well!”

“Take us closer, damn you!” Kumul ordered, and went astern to make sure she obeyed his order.

The pilot started her wailing again but gently eased her vessel closer to the bank. Ager climbed the bow gunwale and peered into the abandoned barge. “It’s a fucking mess,” he said. “I see at least two dead horses.”

“Any bodies?” Jenrosa asked.

“It’s hard to tell. The deck is covered in blood and dead eels. Maybe one… no, two! Get us closer!”

The pilot shook, but under Kumul’s glowering stare pushed harder on the rudder. Ager asked Jenrosa to hold on to his coat as he leaned even farther over the water. “One is too tall to be Lynan. The other… I just can’t tell. There is not enough left of the face and too much blood to tell by the clothing.” Jenrosa pulled him back in and the two of them joined Kumul astern.

“We must get off,” Kumul said.

Just then the water boiled to the starboard and several shapes, black and red with teeth like shears, flew out of the river. The landed just inside the barge and flopped uselessly on the deck, all the while trying to bite whatever was in reach. The three companions jumped back. The pilot kicked the rudder and pulled on the sheets. The barge lurched and then slid into the middle of the river.

“I am not stopping here, even if you cut me with your sword,” she told Kumul, her eyes wide in fear.

“She is right,” Ager said, his voice taut. “The river is too shallow here for the barge to get close enough to the bank. We would have to wade through the water, and probably all be dead before our feet touched dry land.”

“But what of Lynan?” Kumul cried. “What if he is still alive? He could be on the bank somewhere, needing our help…”

“If Lynan survived the river, he is either dead from loss of blood or long gone from here, in which case we will have to find his trail and follow it.”

“Where is the closest point we can disembark?” Jenrosa asked the pilot.

“About three leagues from here if you want to take your horses with you.”

“But which side of the river?” Kumul asked.

“I do not think he would have survived if he tried to swim for the eastern bank,” Ager answered. “The eels would have had more than enough time to finish him off. If he is alive, he is somewhere to the west of the Barda.”

“Then that is where we go,” Kumul said.

The barge seemed to take hours to reach the disembarkation point, but the sun had still not reached midday when the pilot pulled over and dropped anchor. The planks were not quite long enough to reach land, and the horses had to be pulled and pushed up the slippery bank. They left one of the horses with the pilot as payment.

“I did not take you to Daavis as agreed,” the pilot said, and gave them two days’ worth of food to make up the difference. “Journey well. I hope you find your friend.”

Less than an hour later they reached the clump of spear trees and the deserted barge with its cargo, already starting to stink under the hot sun. They quickly found the prints of two humans and a horse.

“I think these are Lynan’s,” Ager said. “They are too small for Prado or one of his men.”

“These ones are long, but the stride is short and there is much blood,” Kumul said.

“It could be the pilot,” Jenrosa suggested.

“Or not,” Ager answered grimly.

Kumul followed the second set of prints to a thicket of thorn bushes. “The tracks meet here, then Lynan’s set off west…” He stopped and stooped to the ground “… and come back again… and then set off once more, but the impression is much deeper. He is carrying something heavy.”

“The other survivor,” Ager said, joining Kumul. “Then Jenrosa is probably right. It must be the pilot. He would not bother to carry Prado or one of his men.”

“But Prado had two men with him,” Jenrosa pointed out. “Where is the last of them?”

Ager shrugged. “Dead in the river, most likely; probably nothing more than a skeleton now.”

With hope rekindled in their hearts, they followed the tracks west for half a league on foot before rediscovering the horse’s trail.

“They are riding west,” Ager said, and pointed to the crest in the distance. “They are heading for the woods.”

“Smart boy, that Lynan,” Kumul said under his breath. “They can’t be more than four hours ahead of us.”

“They will pull ahead, even though their horse is carrying both of them,” Ager said. “We have to ride slowly to keep to their trail.”

It was mid-afternoon before Lynan reached the top of the crest. It had been hard work, climbing and leading the horse. Gudon had slipped into a kind of sleep, stirring only occasionally to pat the horse and smile at Lynan before nodding off again. Now that they were clear of most of the trees the sun woke him fully, and he tried to slip off the horse.

“What are you doing?” Lynan cried, and tried to stop him.

“No, no, young master! I need to stand. I haven’t been on a horse for many years, and my thighs and back feel like they have been stretched forever out of shape.” He balanced himself on his good leg and held onto the saddle, then slowly stretched his muscles.

A cool wind blew around them. From their vantage point Lynan could see that the crest fell more sharply on its western side—leveling out in a broad dry plain with no trees and no sign of life—but extended north until it joined the saddle of a much larger rise. Beyond that he could see the peaks of several mountains, some of them high enough to shine with snow. He looked behind him and saw more mountains, though none as high as those in the north.

“That is the Lesser Desert,” Gudon told him, pointing to the plain. “It follows the Ufero Mountains along almost its entire length. South of here is the source of the Gelt River, which flows into Kestrel Bay.”

Lynan dimly remembered that the Gelt River had been the original destination for him and his companions on leaving Kendra. How much easier their journey would have been if they had not been forced onto the rocks by that warship, he thought. They could have sailed halfway up the Gelt, then strolled the rest of its length to these mountains. No great bears or vampires or Jes Prados or jaizru.

“North of here there is a pass through the mountains, called the Algonka,” continued Gudon. “It is part of a well-used caravan route, and will take us to the start of the Oceans of Grass. There is a water hole at the end of the caravan route called by us the Strangers’ Sooq.”

“We will find refuge at this sooq?”

Gudon shrugged.

“How far away is this pass?”

“Two days’ journey at least. We must stay this side of the mountains to find water, and the way is not always this easy.”

Lynan wiped the sweat from his brow. “Wonderful,” he muttered.

Gudon used his arms to mount by himself and grimaced when his injured knee bumped into the saddle. “Truth, it could be worse,” Gudon said between his teeth.