Midnight Quest (9 page)

The wagon creaked and dipped under Rialt’s weight as he moved. The wood under her hands jumped up a good inch when he freed himself from the wagon’s confines.

The quick steady tread of a man’s boots approached. Jewel turned towards it with a smile, already recognizing the rhythm. “Sarvell.”

“I see you fared well enough,” he observed.

“Eh,” Rialt agreed with an edge of disgruntlement. “Though it does no do a man’s back good to be doubled over like that all day. Tell me I can ride my horse tomorrow.”

“Yes, we’re well within Ramath territory now. In fact, I think it safe enough to separate from the train entirely and move ahead.”

“Sounds fine.”

“Jewel.” Sarvell reached out a hand and cupped her shoulder. “This camp is going to be challenging for you, isn’t it. You told me once that you have to memorize where everything is to be able to move about.”

Bless him for realizing that. In this area where things were constantly moved, or just placed about at random, she had no way of navigating without cautiously edging along. “It will be a labyrinth,” she sighed.

“Then we’ll guide you.”

“Thank you.” She followed the hand on her shoulder to his elbow, where she took hold. She fell into step with him, allowing the feel of his body movements to guide her. The heavy, slow tread of Rialt’s footsteps followed closely at her other side.

Sarvell guided her directly to a seat near the fire, a flat stone that was cold and sharp against her hands. Just sitting there, with nothing to do after a full day of having nothing to do, made her hands twitch. She bargained with her guardians until they at least allowed her to help with dinner preparations. Watching her competently peel and dice up vegetables for a stew caught most of the men’s attention and they gathered as spectators and praised her. She felt like a circus entertainer.

Still, with the vegetables all in the pot and the smell of stew thick in the air, she felt satisfied with her contribution.

During all of this, Rialt or Sarvell stayed by her side, a constant protection from anything that might pose a threat to her. When the horses were properly cared for, their bedrolls rolled out, both men returned and bracketed her on either side.

Sarvell leaned close to her ear to whisper, “Jewel, you said that you can feel the crystals. Can you feel the one in Ramath?”

“Yes.” She twisted to point almost directly behind her without hesitation. “It’s that direction.”

“Oh-ho!” Sarvell twisted, as if looking in the direction she pointed. “So at some point you came close enough to feel it? How far away are we?”

She shook her head in resignation. “I have no idea. It still feels rather faint to me.”

“Rialt, you know Ramath better than I. Are there any roads going that direction?”

“Generally,” Rialt answered with thoughtful hesitation. “The main highway here will connect to another that heads northeasterly. Afore that, it be all minor trails, really.”

“Any stories about where the crystal is now?” Sarvell pressed. “Any hints that might help us to get there faster?”

“Stories aplenty,” Rialt answered wryly. “But nothing helpful, leastways. The tale goes that many generations ago, Juven and Elahandra had some spat or t’other. My people, knowing how the wee lass felt, rose up and took the crystal out of the building it was in. They tried to destroy it and could no make a scratch on it, so they dragged it off a fair piece instead. Now, here the story changes depending on who you ask—some say it was buried, others say Elahandra appeared in a flash of light and took it, and I even heard one man say that it just dissolved into the ground when taken away from its rightful place.”

“An argument between the gods,” Jewel repeated in sheer disbelief. “
That’s
why the crystal was moved?!”

“Eh, that’s the one part everyone agrees on.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she spluttered. “The gods argue amongst themselves all of the time! I mean, sometimes they don’t get along for whole centuries! Why would your people sacrifice the safety of the entire clan over
one argument?
”

“Well, we be all a mite fond of the wee lass,” Rialt answered with a long sigh. “As temperamental as she be, she still be a good ‘un. We take insults against her to heart.”

“
RIALT AXHEIMER!”
a loud, feminine voice boom seemed to shake the heavens.

“Speak of the goddess, and she appears…” Rialt muttered in an odd voice. “She be right behind me, be she no?”

“Y-yes,” Sarvell choked out.

In the sudden, absolute stillness of the campsite, Jewel could hear every angry step that the goddess took. Jewel reached out and grabbed Sarvell’s arm, drawing him in sharply. “Quick, tell me what she looks like!” she hissed to him.

“Tall, buxom, hair loose and wavy,” Sarvell quickly muttered. “She’s in armor, although her legs are bare, and her swords are still in scabbards on her back. She looks ready to strangle Rialt.”

The hilt of Rialt’s axe scraped against the rock as he stood. Jewel shivered as he gained his feet, whether from the glacial silence pressing against her, or the sudden absence of Rialt’s warmth, she wasn’t sure.

“Juven,” Rialt greeted calmly. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

“You can go back to your homeland where you’re supposed to be!” she snapped at him.

“I be on my way,” he assured her with that same eerie calmness.

“Without that puny girl!”

“Now that I canna do.”

“Axheimer, are you arguing with
your goddess
?!”

Jewel winced as that voice blasted, setting her head to ringing.

“That ‘puny girl’ faced death instead of leaving our people open to attack.” A hard edge of anger laced his retort. “Even now her head be full of nothing but helping Ramath, eh, and every clan like us that be left to our own defense against the Daath! Elahandra might have called me to her, Juven, but it was me alone that decided to protect her. I willna leave her defenseless again just cause you be at loggerheads with your sister.”

Jewel winced, half-shying from where Rialt stood solidly between her and the angry goddess. She half-expected Rialt to be struck by lightning (or a heavenly sword) at any moment.

“You are the most
impossible,
thrawn, eijit of a man!” Juven spat.

“Eh,” Rialt agreed readily. “But you love me anyway.”

To Jewel’s surprise, Juven let out a low, rich laugh that seemed almost musical.

“Eh, that I do, that I do,” Juven said fondly. “Though some days, I’ve no idea why. All right, you crabbity man, I’ll let you be. High Priestess of Elahandra, mind this.”

Jewel sat up straighter. “Yes, Exalted One?”

“I shall no be pleased if you get him killed.”

The threat was clear. Jewel raised both hands in supplication. “I won’t be reckless with him, I promise. Um, may I assume that we have permission to act within your territory?”

“Eh, that you do,” Juven agreed although it sounded reluctant. “Well enough, then.”

Between one blink and the next, the overwhelming presence of the goddess disappeared. Jewel let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She cleared her throat, twice, to make sure her voice would come out normal before speaking. “Rialt. Is your goddess normally capricious like this?”

“Eh, she blows hot and cold all the time. You get used to it.” Gravel crunched as he turned about. “I think the stew be done.”

~*~*~*~

They started out again early the next morning before the dew even had a chance to be evaporated by the rising sun. The air had a distinct chill to it that froze their breath. Rialt had been colder, and this early spring weather seemed warm compared to the winter he had just survived, but the blue tint to Jewel’s skin said clearly she felt the cold all the way to the bone.

Rialt caught Sarvell’s eye and inclined his head toward the girl. Sarvell nodded grimly. They could no keep her out in this air, exposed, without taking some measures to keep her warm. Jewel was a mere slip of a thing—she did no have any fat to keep her warmer.

Without a word between them, they wrapped her up in her cloak and Rialt’s before sitting her in front of the Ramathan. Jewel huddled down in her layers, letting her head rest against his chest, and did no make a peep. He kept an arm around her waist as a support, the other on the reins, and prodded his stallion into a brisk walk. The caravan drivers, still harnessing the horses as Sarvell mounted up, waved a farewell. Sarvell passed Rialt and took point, keeping an eye out for trouble.

Rialt knew the moment that she warmed up enough to talk without chattering, as Jewel started peppering him with questions. The morning passed pleasantly with him telling her of his clan. Sarvell hung back several times, head canted a bit their direction as he listened in. Rialt let him eavesdrop without comment, knowing the man had just as many questions he needed answered.

By noon, they reached Rialt’s hometown of Denzbane. The whole city had been built along three hills, with bridges that spanned the valleys between them. When Rialt had left last fall, one of the bridges had been torn down with another being built to replace it. Now that he had proper lighting to see by, he observed with pleasure that the new bridge neared completion, with only a side of railing lacking.

“Describe it to me,” Jewel urged him.

“It be a sizeable enough town, spread out on three hilltops,” he told her factually, “and three bridges connecting them. Place is mostly made of stone, as it be less likely to burn. We have got crafts and artisans here since we be close enough to trade with Belthain. What farms we have are on the hillsides, but mostly we deal with livestock, and they live in the valleys between the city.”

“Sounds like a peaceful, prosperous place.”

“The wee lass be praised, it be.” The peace likely would no last ten seconds after word spread he was back. Rialt led their way past the first turn in the road to the second, leading them toward the outer wall of the city. A few were out with their sheep or cattle, letting them graze on the new grass on the flatlands. When they spied him, they waved a hand in greeting, which Rialt returned. No one challenged them until they reached the thick wooden gates where two of his clansmen stood guard.

“Rialt!” Kal greeted with a wave of the hands and an outraged finger pointed his direction. “Where by Cherchez’s beard have you been? Your whole family has been plaguing me all morning about turning you loose on the world, and I was no even
on
duty that night!”

Rialt reined in his stallion a pace before the gate, eyeing his cousin thoughtfully. Kal’s dark hair looked unrulier than usual, which likely meant he had been tugging at it most of the morning in aggravation. The clothes on his big frame also hung a little oddly, as if he had dressed in a hurry—with only one hand, to boot. No doubt the cause was being rousted out of a sound sleep. Rialt had a flash of empathy. “I left a note.”

“A note. A
note
, he says, as if that solves it all!” Kal threw up his hands and then whirled when his companion laughed. “Do no say it, Tiburn, and wipe that silly smirk off your face afore I do it for you!”

Tiburn, unfazed by this threat, smiled wider behind his bushy beard. “I told you no to let them ruffle your feathers so. Rialt be part cat. He will turn up when he be of a mind to. Did no I say as much?”

Kal gave an inarticulate groan at this, turning his head away so that he did no have to look at anyone.

Tiburn (another cousin, although he did no look like one with his shorter, stockier build and fair hair) turned to Rialt with the smile still in place but weighing eyes. “So where
have
you been?”

“Belthain Castle, on a rescue.” He nodded to the woman in his arms. “If it be all the same, Tiburn, I would like to pass.”

Tiburn shot a curious look at Sarvell, which Rialt had no even attempted to explain, but retreated two steps to unlatch the gate and push it open. “So long as I get the full tale later.”

“Belike tonight,” Rialt assured him as he kicked the stallion back into motion.

“Eh, that will do.”

They rode through, entering the city proper. Sarvell caught up once through the gate to ride stirrup to stirrup. “You left a note?” he asked in frank amusement.

“Mind, I was a bit pressed for time,” Rialt drawled with a pointed look at the man.

“Ooohhh my, we’re going to get quite the welcome, I can see it now.” Far from being vexed by the idea, Sarvell smiled in anticipation.

“Hush, man.” Rialt growled again when Jewel giggled. “You too, lass.”

Word of his coming spread as quickly as children and gossiping women could carry it. By the time they had climbed past the sloping farms and reached the center of the hill where Rialt’s house stood, dozens of cousins, aunts, uncles, two of his sisters and his parents waited on his doorstep. Considering that his house was a bit on the small side, meant for a bachelor, squeezing that many people into his front yard was quite the feat.

His house sat between several others, but it faced the square which had any number of shops and restaurants. The whole place appeared deserted compared to his house. The few people that were on the opposite side of the street clearly were no on pressing matters as their faces were turned to watch him stop in front of his gate.

His mother met him at the gate, pushing her way through until she could stand at his stirrup. His stallion, usually upset with this kind of proximity to other people, docilely allowed her to be in his space. (Previous experience had taught him that she was definitely master here.)

“Rialt!” Calio stood with limbs akimbo, an apron around her waist and her sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She had apparently been baking when receiving word her only son had come home, as flour dusted her cheeks and dark hair, skin still a little pink from the heat of the stoves. “Where have you been? And who be these people with you?”

“Belthain Castle,” Rialt answered as he waited for Sarvell to dismount and come take Jewel from him. “I was called for a bit of a rescue.”

Sarvell, not taking Rialt’s silent cue, instead turned to the matron with a blinding smile. “I’m Sarvell Sorpan, sweet lady. I, like your son, was also called to Belthain in the dead of night on a rescue mission. I am very sorry for the worry you experienced these past few days. Secrecy was of the utmost importance.”