The Born Queen (15 page)

“I don’t.”

A sharp ringing commenced, and Stephen realized that the Aitivar on the steps was working at the stone with a hammer and chisel, probably trying to create some purchase to tie a rope to. Another Sefry began the same work on their side. After perhaps half a bell, a rope was fixed across the gulf, and Adhrekh went across, hanging upside down, hooking his legs over the cord and using his hands to pull himself along.

Before Stephen went, they tied a second rope around his waist. An Aitivar held it at either end so that if he fell, they had a chance of stopping him. That safeguard made Stephen feel a bit condescended to but infinitely safer, and he insisted that Zemlé be brought across in the same fashion.

Finally, with the exception of a man Stephen hadn’t known the name of, they were all on the stairs.

The footing improved after ten or so kingsyards, the steps becoming more defined and the way wider. The witchlights occasionally showed the other side of the crevasse but not the bottom, or the roof, for that matter.

“It’s colder still,” Zemlé noticed.

“Yes,” Stephen agreed. “There is much debate about the nature of the world beneath. Some mountains spew fire and molten rock, so one would imagine there is great heat below. And yet caves tend to be cold.”

“Rather that than molten rock,” she replied.

“Yes. What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Up above, at the waterfall: a sort of scraping sound, like something big coming through.”

“Something big?”

“Archers,” Adhrekh said quietly.

Stephen tried to focus in the direction of the sound, but beyond their luminous companions there was only darkness.

“Is there any way to dampen the witchlights?” Stephen asked. “They make us easy to see.”

And then he smelled it, a hot, animal, resiny smell, just like the trace of scent in the aerie.

“He’s here,” Stephen said, trying to keep his voice from showing his building panic.

A warm breeze blew across them, and Stephen heard the sharp hum of a bowstring.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
G
EOS

T
HE BEAST
saw Aspar coming and whipped its snake-necked head around, lifting its great batlike wings in challenge.

Aspar rushed to meet it, trying in the few instants he had to see where he should strike.

As on a bat, its wings were its forelimbs. It was crouched down on its hind legs, so he couldn’t see much of them. The head was vaguely canine, like some mixture of wolf and snake, and sat atop a kingsyard of sinuous neck.

That long throat seemed the safest bet. The feyknife ought to cut right through it.

But then it beat its wings and jumped, and as its long, sinewy rear legs unfolded, he realized that despite a few details, the thing was grown more like a fighting cock than a bat, as it was suddenly above him, kicking down with wicked claws and dirklong heel spurs. It was
fast.

Aspar had too much momentum to stop, so he pivoted to his right, but not quickly enough. The spur of one foot struck his chest.

To Aspar’s surprise and relief, the thing wasn’t as heavy as it looked. Although the claw probably would have laid open his chest if he hadn’t been warded, it didn’t have the force to cut through the boiled leather cuirass he wore beneath his shirt.

It did stick there, though, and the thing shrieked and yanked, trying to get loose. Then it did the more logical thing and kicked its other set of talons at Aspar’s face. Aspar brought the feyknife up and through the wedged claw and almost couldn’t feel the blade cutting. Then he bounded up and slashed at the neck.

Its reflexes were better. It hurled up and back, shrilling—

—and going straight into Winna, who went sprawling on her back.

Aspar started after the beast, but suddenly heard the thrumming of hooves and glanced to see what it was. The monster looked, too, but not in time to dodge the spear that struck it in the ribs and lifted it off the ground, propelling it along with the weight of a bay charger and an armored knight behind it. The knight slammed it into the trunk of an ash, and the spear shivered. The terrible beast crumpled and then started haltingly to get up.

The knight dismounted, drawing his sword.

“Wait,” Aspar said. “It might be poison.”

He was trying not to think that if it was like the greffyn, Winna was already venomed.

The knight hesitated, then nodded.

Aspar walked over to the creature. Its skin was barely cut, but it was clear that much was broken inside. It watched him come with curiously blank eyes, but when he was close enough, it hopped at him again. It was slower than before.

Aspar sidestepped, caught the leg above the claws with his left hand, and severed the whole limb with the feyknife. Dark, almost purple blood jetted from the stump as the head darted down to bite him. Aspar kept the knife coming up, however, and it went through the serpentine neck as if slicing soft cheese.

He turned away from the bloody work and found Winna hobbling toward him.

“Stay back,” he shouted more loudly than he meant to.

She stopped, her eyes widening.

“The blood,” he explained. “Every one of these things is different. Its touch may not be so bad, but its blood might.”

He noticed she was rubbing her elbow.

“Were you hurt when you fell?”

“It’s you,” she said feebly. “I should have known. All I had to do was find a monster…”

“Yah, it’s me,” he said more softly, unable to keep his gaze from jumping down to her belly.

“You’re—”

“Yah,” she said. “Yah.” She smiled a wavery little smile. “I knew you couldn’t be dead. I told them.” He saw that tears were streaming down her face. She reached out her arms, but he took a step back, and she nodded.

“Saints, then,” she said, straightening and wiping her cheeks. “Get cleaned up so I can greet you proper. And you can tell me where you’ve been all this—”

Her gaze went out over his shoulder and became suddenly less tender. “Oh,” she said. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he heard Leshya say behind him.

Ah, sceat,
he thought.

The knight had his helmet off, and he looked familiar.

“There’s a spring just over here,” he said. “You can leave your clothes and take my cloak. We can be to Ermensdoon in under a bell.”

“I know you,” Aspar said.

“Auy. I hait Emfrith Ensilson. You saved my life.”

Aspar nodded. “You look better than when I saw you last.”

“I should think,” the greftson said. “How are you feeling?”

Aspar shrugged. “I’m not so easy to poison as some.”

“From what I’ve heard, I’d hardly guess you were human at all,” Emfrith said, trying on a little grin that didn’t fit and was soon put away. Aspar didn’t miss the shy glance at Winna, either.

“Human’s not all your mother told you it was,” Leshya said.

“He’s human enough,” Winna said.

“Where’s Ehawk?” Aspar asked.

“In the mountains, looking for you.”

Aspar had been aware that more horses and men were approaching, and now they were there: twenty-two of them, most in the livery that Aspar remembered from Haemeth. A couple were dressed more roughly, and he reckoned they were trackers or hunters.

“We’ve a few extra horses,” Emfrith said. “I’d be happy if you and the lady would use them.”

“I’ll stay on foot till I’m clean,” Aspar said. “Where’s this spring you were talking about?”

“Just there,” the fellow replied, gesturing.

Aspar nodded and headed in that direction.

The spring came cold and clear from the ground and fed a pretty pool edged in moss and ferns. He wearily stripped off his leather chest plate and the gambeson beneath, which was so threadbare that it was worn through in places.

Next to go were the elkskin boots and breeches, and he slipped into water that was almost painfully cold at first but after a few moments felt perfect. He closed his eyes and soaked for a moment, letting the toxic blood flow away from his skin in lazy banners.

Truth to tell, he didn’t think that as sedhmhari went the—what, wyver? drake?—was all that poisonous, at least not compared to the woorm or greffyn, whose mere glances were enough to bring death to the weak. But he needed a moment to think, and with Winna in her condition…

In her condition. He suddenly remembered the huge sow back in the Sarnwood, the thing within her tearing to be free from its mother’s belly, and felt his breath quicken.

“The next human being you meet, you’ll take under your protection. And you will take that person to the valley where you found the Briar King sleeping.”

That was Winna. Of course it was, Grim damn it all.

Well, he wouldn’t do it. To the hanging tree with the Sarnwood witch.

But why would she want him to take her there? Why would she want that?

He heard a twig snap and shifted his gaze. It was Emfrith, coming toward him.

Aspar cast a glance at his armor, a kingyard away, but there wasn’t any time to get that on. The knife was within arm’s reach.

“It’s me,” Emfrith said unnecessarily.

“Yah,” Aspar agreed.

“I’ve brought my cloak. It’s probably best we burn the clothes, don’t you think?”

“Probably,” Aspar replied.

Emfrith nodded but didn’t go toward the abandoned garments.

“Didn’t really think I’d see you again,” the greftson admitted. “She kept insisting we search, and I did, because, well, I suppose I owe you.”

“Was that the reason?”

“Not really. But I did search for you nevertheless, followed the waurm’s trail into the Bairghs and lost it there. That still wasn’t enough for her. Two days ago she had a dream, she said. Said she saw you coming down through these woods. I reckoned one more look wouldn’t hurt.”

“But it did.”

He shrugged. “I could wish we hadn’t found you.”

Aspar nodded, trying to take in the whole scene. Were there archers out there? But this boy had taken on the woorm with only a lance and a horse. That was almost the only thing Aspar knew about him, but it suggested he didn’t lack courage or conviction. Honor sometimes went with that.

“I never reckoned I could feel this way about someone with common blood,” Emfrith went on. “But it’s not so unusual in my family. We’re not high royalty, after all.” His voice lowered. “I can give her a better life than you can, holter. And the child, too.”

“I know,” Aspar said. “How does Winna feel about all this?”

“What do you think? She’s been waiting for you.”

“And here we are.”

“Here we are,” the greftson concurred. Then he started forward, toward Aspar’s clothes.

“Maunt you we should destroy the cuirass, too? I can give you another.”

Aspar glanced at the worn piece of armor. He’d had it for a long time. He’d already lost Ogre.

Stupid. It was just a thing, a thing nearly used up. And if Emfrith wasn’t going to try to kill him now, he probably was telling the truth about replacing it.

“I’m being chased,” Aspar said.

“Chased? By whom?”

“A pack of monsters,” he said.

“How far behind you?” Emfrith asked. He didn’t seem surprised.

“Well, the flying ones are here already, aren’t they? The rest could be a day behind or a nineday. I’m not sure about their route or how well they track.”

“We can fight them at Ermensdoon.”

“No, we can’t,” Aspar said. “Trust me.”

“What, then?”

“I—” Aspar began, but then his throat tickled. What he meant to say was that he and Leshya would continue on, draw Fend and his beasts off someplace.

That was what he meant to say.

“We can keep ahead of them. I know a safe place; it’s just a matter of getting her there.”

Emfrith frowned. “I understand your feelings for her, but if the monsters are chasing you, wouldn’t she be safer if she didn’t travel with you?”

Yes!

But Aspar shook his head. “They’re after her, too. The wyver was attacking her, yah?”

Emfrith nodded. “Yes,” he conceded. “But why?”

Aspar took a deep breath. Could he tell Emfrith about the geos? Then the boy could kill him or imprison him long enough to get Winna away from him.

It was worth a try.

“You remember where I got the berries that cured you from the woorm’s poison?”

“The Sarnwood witch, they say.”

“Yah.”
There was a price for that.
“She told me that Fend was going to kill Winna if I don’t stop him.”

He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t.

“Look,” he said desperately. “You said Winna dreamed I would be here?”

Emfrith nodded. “Does she often have premonitions?”

“No!” Aspar replied. “No, she—” But that was all he could manage. He was like a strangpoppet in a children’s farce.

“We’ll go to Ermensdoon for supplies and the rest of my men,” Emfrith said. “And I’ll send out a few scouts to see if they can get a better idea of how far behind you they are. You killed the wyver; maybe they’ve lost you entirely.”

“Maybe,” Aspar said dubiously.

The ride to Ermensdoon wasn’t a comfortable one. Winna rode near him, and Emfrith wasn’t far away. Leshya hung back, but that didn’t do much good. No one wanted to talk in front of everyone, so they mostly went in silence.

Ermensdoon was an old-fashioned hill castle with a square central tower and a stout wall. It sat on a little stub of a mound surrounded by a moat so old and unused that it had reverted mostly to a marsh of cattails and river grass and was currently home to a number of ducks and coots.

“There’s a newer fortress a league south,” Emfrith told him. “A full garrison marched up from Eslen last nineday. I reckon the queen thinks Hansa may try a march to the Warlock and then take boats down. My father gave me Ermensdoon when I was little. Before that, it hadn’t been lived in for a generation.”

Aspar didn’t really have anything to say to that, so he didn’t speak. Soon enough they were inside, anyhow, and he was in a small chamber in the tower. He was supplied with several cotton shirts, a pair of sturdy riding breeches, and calfskin boots. The thickset fiery-headed fellow who had brought them looked him over.

“What sort of broon you favor?”

“Boiled leather,” Aspar said.

“I can come up with a steel one, I think.”

“I’m not a knight. Steel doesn’t suit me: too heavy. Leather will do.”

“I can make one in a couple of days.”

“We’re in more of a hurry than that, I think,” Aspar said.

“I’ll start it, but I’ll see what else I might have on hand,” the redhead replied.

“Thanks,” Aspar said.

Then the fellow was gone, leaving him to his worries.

But not for long. The knock came that he had been both hoping for and dreading; when he opened the door, Winna stood there.

“Are you unpoisoned now?” she asked.

“I reckon.”

“You’ll kiss me, then, or I’ll know why.”

It seemed like a very long time since he had kissed her, but the taste came right back to him, and he remembered the first time his lips had met hers. He’d just encountered a monster then, too: his first. And the surprise of her kiss had easily matched the shock of seeing a kinderspell beast come to life.