Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) (23 page)

At the same time, an anxious feeling crept into his mind. Len-Ahl had pointed in a west-southwestern direction, and unless their destination resided close, one land lay in their path. Their road led to Yagolhan, where they would have to wade through a war zone, Eversor’s cultists, Qabala, and the gods only knew what else.

Chapter Twenty-Three

THEY LEFT AT first light, as the sun crept over the eastern peaks, bathing Orrigo in soft orange sunlight to chase away the last vestiges of the night. Nerris wanted to wait until Borrel had a chance to fully translate the scrolls, but Jhareth insisted on an early departure.

“Congir has had ample time to collect himself by now,” Jhareth said. “Unless you think it might be fun to play hide-and-seek with the Cult’s blades all through Orrigo, I suggest we stay one step ahead. Besides, Len-Ahl says we know what we need.”

Len-Ahl agreed. “The Cult protects its own. Congir is a menista, a leader of one of the various sects. He will seek to capture us and use us to further his own goals if we remain here.”

“Not to mention we’ll want to get past western Agos before Lord Duchois finds out about the death of his son,” Jhareth said. “I don’t relish a visit to the dungeons of Zarseille just now.”

Jhareth had purchased four sturdy mounts, in addition to a pack horse, and they saddled them in the inn stables before walking them out to the street. Nerris was a bit worried Len-Ahl would have a difficult time, never riding a horse alone before, but once again she alleviated his fears. She stroked her brown mare’s mane, emitting a sound into its ear which sounded half whisper and half hum. The horse accepted her without making a noise, in stark contrast to Nerris’s stallion, which clamped its teeth down on Nerris’s hand when he tried to pat him. Nerris cried out and pulled his hand away, favoring it.

“Careful,” Jhareth said. “That one bites.”

“You’re supposed to tell me before it does that,” Nerris said.

Professor Borrel came out to see them off as they made their final preparations. “Thank you, Nerris,” Borrel said. “I have waited for the chance to look upon the Stonechaser Prophecy for years, and I finally have. Rest assured, I will continue to translate the text should you ever need to peruse the rest.”

“I appreciate that, Professor,” Nerris said. “Thank you for all your help. One thing I’m curious about, however. You mentioned you had laid eyes on these Black Prophecies once. Where did you come across them? I think we would be at an advantage if we could learn more about the enemy.”

Borrel sighed. “Alas, they are no more. As I said, I was quite zealous about tracking down the name of Eversor. I found myself all the way at the western fringe of Yagolhan, a place called Regnak Manor in the Mount Zoko region. The man who owned the house had long since passed away, but a few sepps for the caretaker granted me access to the library. A year later, in an unrelated inquiry, I heard the manor burnt to the ground.”

Nerris was disappointed, but something tingled in the back of his mind. Hadn’t Rade’s surname been Regnak, or was it something else?

Jhareth interrupted his thoughts. “All right, let’s get on the road. First stop, Gauntlet.”

They decided the best route to take would be through the western Gosseen Mountains, skirting the northern shore of Lake Zarseille. If Lord Duchois had learned Nerris killed his son, he would surely have patrols out around Zarseille, so the highroad was no good. Before that, they had to make a brief sojourn.

The city’s west gate led out to a dirt trail, which wound up a steep slope. After a mile, it ended at a battered down gate overcome with vines and moss. Beyond, the ruins of the fighting school Gauntlet stood silent, watching over Orrigo even now. Jhareth led them past a shattered tower and to a stone building with no roof. It was the size of a longhall, and the southern wall had been battered in, the stones strewn about the cracked floor.

“This is Gauntlet,” Nerris said to Len-Ahl. “This is where it all began for us. We didn’t know anything about the world before we came here.”

“You mentioned this was a place for nobles to learn the art of combat and command,” Len-Ahl said. “How is it they allowed in three boys with no notable birth?”

“It began that way, true,” Nerris said, “but as the school expanded, they offered their services to others who could afford it. By the time we came, about a fifth of the school’s roster was commoners. Those with no money were put to work in the kitchens and stables as a way of paying for their tuition.”

“And the noble gits
loved
sharing their classes with the help,” Dist said. “I don’t think I ever suffered as much verbal abuse in my life as when I was here.”

Nerris flashed him a grin. “That stopped soon enough, once we began knocking them in the dirt in the practice field.”

Once they were inside the wide broken building, they dismounted and Dist prepared a fire while Jhareth retrieved some food from their packs. “Breakfast,” he announced. “Who cooked last?”

“Who can say?” Dist said. “The last time we were on the road by ourselves was three years ago.”

“I’ll cook,” Nerris said.

Jhareth grimaced. “Thanks all the same, Nerris, but I made a holy vow never to eat your cooking unless starvation is close. Even then it’s up in the air. It’s hardly a good omen if we begin this expedition with indigestion.”

Nerris threw up his hands. “Pardon me,” he said, walking away.

“Let’s just draw lots,” Dist said.

“No,” Jhareth said. “I remember now. I cooked last. We had rabbit stew, garnished with spices from Lord Minoku’s kitchen.”

“The hell you did,” Dist said. “You’re making things up. There’s no way you could remember that, Jhareth.”

Nerris saw to the horses while his friends argued. He knew why Jhareth had picked this place. This building was formerly the mess hall, where they had taken most of their meals while at Gauntlet, since eating outside was a privilege granted to those past their second year.

The school had grown over quite a bit in the past ten years. When King Ullas had declared intent to shutter Gauntlet and demanded the heads of Owen the headmaster and his son, Lord Gaviel Feigh had stood with the Palwells, calling his banners in defiance. King Ullas laid siege to the city, a feat not easily accomplished from the land side, as the only road to Orrigo led from the south and was guarded by a sprawling stone wall straddled between two cliffs.

Len-Ahl came over to him. “What happened to this place?”

“The forces of King Ullas Tornette,” Nerris said. “Gauntlet was always thought to be safe. The road here is through the west gate of Orrigo, and it is well situated in the mountains. Only a few secret paths lead down into the valleys.”

“And they found these paths?”

Nerris nodded. “We were betrayed by one of our own. Valez Vaed, the third son of a highlord from western Yagolhan. He had friends of his own, two Agossean nobles named Tarias Dinge and Maria Whitewater. Tarias and Maria were torn between their loyalty to their best friend and their love for the school. Before they ran off with him, they returned to Gauntlet to warn us. We fought fiercely, but in the end we were forced to retreat to the city, and Gauntlet was destroyed.”

“That is sad,” Len-Ahl said. “So many memories for so many people wiped away in one battle.”

Nerris pointed to a stone stair which used to lead to the armory, but now led nowhere. “I remember our first year here. That stair was part of an obstacle course which led throughout the school, a grueling course fashioned to push our physical abilities to the limit. Every student had to complete it three times during term. And it changed every year. It was the graduating class’s task to design the new path for the coming term.” He grinned at her. “Imagine trying to get to the privy with much older boys barreling down the hall at you at frequent intervals.”

Len-Ahl laughed. “That does sound inconvenient.”

Nerris pointed out the main yard, where they had practiced at combat, first with their hands, moving up to staves and swords, and finally picking a weapon to specialize in. He gestured to a building with half the wall missing, which had been called the Healer’s Hut, where those with healing intensive schedules had learned their craft. Trees had sprouted up amongst the ruins where the library and classrooms had once been. Most of the outer walls were still intact, but many of the crenellations were missing.

“Gauntlet had no guards,” Nerris said. “The students learned basic military procedures by keeping watch themselves. No one was exempt. It doesn’t look it, but this was once a formidable fortress. Some say that’s what made the king so paranoid.”

“And no one ever restored it?” Len-Ahl asked.

“King Owen planned to, once his father was crowned,” Nerris said, “but Owen the Elder died of his wounds and his son elevated to the throne. With matters of state and other priorities, the rebuilding of Gauntlet never got off the ground.”

By then, the smell of bacon had begun to waft into his nostrils. Looking back, he saw Jhareth reclining against a large piece of stone while Dist toiled over a frying pan and a pot of oatmeal, muttering curses. It was plain to see who had won that argument. Nerris and Len-Ahl rejoined them, and they ate amongst the ruins and shadows.

They set out again after breakfast and wound their way through the valleys and ravines of the Gosseen Mountains, stopping every night to camp under starlit skies. Jhareth scouted ahead, often climbing up a rock face to get a better view of any hazards which lay ahead. On one particular occasion, they had to lead their horses three miles out of their way to get around a gorge, which dropped off right out of a tree line.

Occasionally, Len-Ahl would play the tune she had learned from the Stonechaser Prophecy on her flute. Every time, the wind picked up into a similar gust they had experienced back in Orrigo. The direction still led toward the southwest, but they stayed on their own western course. It was all but certain the Faery Footpath would lead them across the border, and they could hone in on the first beacon of the Exemplus once they were safely across.

After nearly a week, they crept close to the Yagol border. It would not have taken so long had they cut across northern Agos to the Tormalian Highroad, which ran west to Zarseille and around the southern part of Zarseille Lake. There were no ravines and gorges to navigate around in that fertile stretch of land, but plodding through the mountains would keep them out of the sight of potential foes.

At least Nerris thought so, until Jhareth came back from his scouting one evening with some urgent news. “We’ll want to get off the path,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Nerris asked.

“Soldiers,” Jhareth said. “A patrol of some kind. Their sigil depicted a warrior brandishing a morning star.”

“House Garero,” Nerris said. “I knew we shouldn’t have passed so close to the Rockfort.”

“They’re vassals of House Duchois,” Dist explained to Len-Ahl. “Do you think they’re looking for us?” he asked Jhareth.

The thief shrugged. “How would I know? It could be a routine patrol, but we don’t want to take that chance.”

Nerris swore. “All right, let’s find a hiding place. No fires tonight, Dist.”

They wandered off the game trail they had been following and Jhareth soon found a cave at the top of an incline, shrouded somewhat by the foliage. They led the horses up the slope and into the cavern to wait for the patrol to pass.

That night, Jhareth returned from scouting once again and made his report. “The patrol isn’t budging,” he said. “I think they’re waiting on us.”

“News sure travels fast,” Nerris said. “I bet they’re under orders from Zarseille to intercept us in case we came this way.”

“How many are there?” Dist asked.

“Two dozen riders, better equipped than we are,” Jhareth said. “Plate armor, gauntlets of lobstered steel, lances as well as swords. You get the idea.”

Nerris’s heart fell. If it came to a fight, they would not stand a chance against so many. He did not relish having to explain his actions to Lord Laque Duchois. King Owen would probably intervene, assuming their messenger had reached him, and that would set off a whole new slew of political problems for Agos.

“And that’s not all,” Jhareth continued. “There is a force of men behind us, camped at that ruined stone wall we passed a few miles back.”

“More soldiers?” Dist asked.

Jhareth shook his head. “These men wore black robes with white inlays, with runes patterned on them. Some wore metal masks and had long, serrated blades. They had a few locals tied to a tree, and looked to be preparing for a ritual.”

“Cultists,” Nerris hissed. Congir’s men were pursuing them after all.

“How did they track us?” Jhareth asked. “They didn’t know what direction we were going.”

“Eversor has many foul beings at his disposal,” Len-Ahl said. “Some of the more practiced menistas can conjure them into our world to do their bidding. We may be hunted by something we cannot see. Something we do not want to see.”

“We have to help those villagers,” Nerris said. “They’ll kill them all.”

“There were thirty of them,” Jhareth said. “Even we aren’t going to prevail against those odds.”

Nerris turned to Len-Ahl. “Would your magic be able to help us? We could take care of thirty men if your songs disabled them like back in Faerlin Castle.”

“I am afraid I am not powerful enough to subdue such numbers,” Len-Ahl said. “I found myself in over my head back in the great hall, remember.”

Nerris clenched his fists, remembering the atrocities he saw in Yahd’s Walk and the village of Gelnicka. “We’re cornered if we sit here.”

“Soldiers to the west, cultists to the east,” Len-Ahl said, nodding her head. “One of them is bound to find us.”

Dist rubbed at his chin. “Maybe not.” He turned to Nerris. “I think I can take care of both problems.”

“What are you going to do?” Nerris asked.

Dist grinned. “Trust me. Jhareth, I’ll need your assistance.” He stood and grabbed a flint and tinderbox. “Get my satchel, if you would.”

“Which one?” Jhareth asked.

“The one that’s marked
flammable
,” Dist replied.

Dist and Jhareth disappeared into the night, and Nerris stood watch at the cave mouth. Len-Ahl wrapped a cloak around her body and joined him. “What can they do against so many cultists?” she wondered.

“I’ve got sort of a general idea,” Nerris said. “You’ll want to watch for it, Len-Ahl. It’s sure to be spectacular.”