The Faerion (10 page)

"Listen to him," said Navir. "Right now you have no friends except those who are right here, and you have tried hard to reject their aid."

Estes breathed deeply. He nodded his head. "Some friends. Again, Navir, I will think about what you said. And I will think on your words, Apal. But it is very difficult."

"If you are successful, you will be a better man for it," said Apal. "Perhaps a man other men will follow. Yes, it will be difficult and I foresee you facing death many times. Only you can determine your fate."

"What about Treteste? He has a hand in my current fate. How did I alone determine my current state?"

"You talk too much," said Apal. He looked to Navir. "Everyone tries to destroy my beautiful theories. How can I be a great philosopher with such people around? It would be better to work in a deserted town. Except for the money, I'd love it."

They took their leave of the minstrels, Estes staring straight ahead, Navir waving to Apal his thanks. Estes had not enjoyed the conversation. His brow was furrowed and his face flushed. Navir shook his head. The anger of the young man would be his undoing. Were all Men this headstrong?

They walked long without speaking. The land was familiar to Navir. He had wandered the edges of the troll land, Darkfell, and Paglo, the land of the Tuors, for many years, guarding against Man presence in Arda. He knew Blackthorne made his home in the mountain reaches but had not seen him in twenty years. The next land they would pass through was once the domain of a Wierlun. Navir frowned at the thought of exposing that part of himself to Estes. He did not want to relive those short days at all. Yet when he looked at Wynne that time became a pleasant memory, not the bitter one where his father was prominent.

Rocks rose high around them; their steps echoed slowly as they passed. Estes thought he heard something and turned to the Daerlan, who already had drawn his sword. They slowed, walking back to back, watching the tops of the rocks. No bird songs or other sounds reached their ears. A pungent smell greeted them.

"Trolls," whispered Navir. "They are close and clever concealing themselves. They can't see well but can smell us."

They moved by several misshapen rocks, their eyes still upward when the misshapen rocks began to move. Suddenly four huge trolls stood over them. Navir lashed out with his sword, wounding one, but something struck his head rendering him senseless. Estes tried to run and made it twenty yards before the Troll caught him and trussed him up like a bird for the supper pot.

Navir regained his senses underneath a tree. He had rolled a good distance without the Trolls noticing him, occupied as they were with Estes. Navir raced towards the Trolls, his sword piercing the eye of one troll. He twirled and cut the ropes binding Estes, then faced the Trolls again.

"Run. Run as fast as you can. I will hold them. Head southeast for four days and you will reach Evenlight. The scouts will find you before then."

Estes did not move immediately. Navir kicked at him, flailing his leg backwards. "Run! Or your father will go unavenged!" Estes finally heard the Daerlan and scampered into the trees. Navir waved his sword, moving to the north to draw the brutes after him. With a roar the Trolls charged him. He led them on a merry chase through the rocky terrain, dodging branches, jumping streams, keeping within sight of the Trolls. He could lose them quickly, but Estes needed more time to escape.

However, escape was elusive. A Troll dragged Estes toward the Troll's campsite. Estes had tried to run, but a straggler happened upon him, knocking him down. The creature made no noise as it approached its camp, probably intending to cook Estes for itself. Suddenly, it heard a whistle from the east. The Troll stopped. An arrow pierced its eye. It screamed, dropping Estes who sprang to his feet. He ran toward the archer. It was Melana. Rocks began raining down near them. A small rock struck her in the head. She fell heavily. Estes looked back to see more Trolls approaching. He checked his impulse to run and went to Melana. Her scalp peeled back from her wound but she still breathed. He looked back at the Trolls, closing quickly. Cursing, he picked up Melana with strength he didn't know he had and hurried down the ravine, roots grasping at his ankles, the weight of the girl fouling his balance. The Trolls gained ground quickly.

Arrows rained on the trolls. One struck the leader and it went down, tripping two more. The arrows flew again. With savage cries they withdrew out of the range of the arrows. Estes ran wildly, finally stumbled and pitched into a fern. Rough hands pulled him out, turning him over and covering his mouth in one motion.

Estes looked into the face of Apal.

"Thank you for saving my Melana. The wound is not serious, but we have other matters to discuss. Navir has gone. I do not know where. I called with a prearranged birdcall, but he did not answer. Either he is out of range or is sorely pressed. Your only safety is with us. I know your real identity. Without Navir your only hope is to hide with us. Become a minstrel. We pass through most towns without question. We could find out many things about Treteste to help you gain the throne. You have no other help."

"That last remark is the telling one. I do not trust you, Apal, but I don't know why. I don't fear for my life, but you are not totally honest with me."

"That is true. And I will be more honest as time passes. I have many responsibilities and I treat them all the same. But I am devoted to each." He glanced behind them. "We must go; the Trolls may return."

Over the next days Estes was tested for abilities to help the group. His juggling was horrible and he did not play the lute. However, his voice was pure and golden; blending with Melana's so well that Apal's eyes misted over. Apal smiled at Melana. This was a real break. They would obtain better engagements allowing them better intelligence. Apal was pleased; Estes was not.

"Do you sing often?" Deenie asked.

Estes bit back an angry answer. He studied the smiling face of Deenie.

"No. I haven't had much opportunity. I used to sing with my mother, but she died many years ago. It saddens me to sing now."

She smiled and touched his hand.

"No. Do not let it. Sing and remember your mother. I think of my own mother often when we perform. It helps me remember her. Sometimes her face begins to fade from my memory but a tune often brings her back. A song is a joy and each song praises your mother and revels in those wonderful memories. It does work. Try it."

Estes smiled. "Thank you. I shall try to do as you suggest. Don't expect great things right away."

"Of course I expect great things Rapert." Deenie patted his hand then went back to cooking supper. Estes watched her the rest of the evening.

The Trolls gave up chasing Navir and returned to their home. He had led them miles to the north, almost letting them catch him, then sprinting out of reach. The game lasted through the night but the Trolls' stomach made them stop and seek out easier fare. Navir stopped and sat on a warm rock in the morning sunshine. It felt good to be free of Estes. He could finally relax. A hawk flew overhead, startling him. Tears filled his eyes for the memory of Aeli. She would laugh at him, sharing some secret with the forest, but it was never troublesome. She loved keeping things from him and set small clues for him to uncover. Often he did. When he didn't, she loved him all the more. Did he ever tell her he loved her?

The anger toward his father and brother was unabated even after so many years. Why did they do it? He cried.

He worried about Wynne. How could he have left her in Stormridge? Her life was in danger.

He had to find her. He would find her. He had to reclaim his daughter.

Tomen led the small party out of Paglo to the steep slopes of the forest to the north. Their short legs labored up the terrain but Tomen held his pace, not looking back at his charges. Their breathing labored but no one complained and he thanked the stars for that. Their journey would become perilous soon enough and complainers usually disrupted the trust necessary in a time of danger. He wanted to enter Troll country during mid-day, passing though it quickly while the Trolls watched the border passes between Arda and Paglo. It was rare for anyone to enter Troll country willingly but Tomen had often walked the rocky terrain of Darkfell. He knew where the Trolls laid their traps and he knew safe paths.

They waited while Wynne found the hollow tree where she had hidden her belonging before entering Paglo. She said she had circled to the west to be sure Treteste's people wouldn't stumble across it.

While they waited for Wynne, Tomen received word from one of his scouts of Trolls chasing Treteste's men into Paglo. Tomen did not share this information but urged them to make haste. When Wynne returned, they started out at once.

"All my sorceress's tools. All I have in the world. I was lucky to be able to smuggle them out of Stormridge." She held them close to her, confirming their value. Culver watched her as his stomach tightened. What did she really hold? She said she did not have the Faerion, but that was at Whitehall. She did not have this bundle there. He did not dare ask her the truth; he wasn't sure he wanted to know for certain. The presence of the book would make it more dangerous for Elise.

Elise hummed to herself while they walked. Tomen was silent and Wynne muttered to herself. Culver brought up the rear, watching his companions each chance he could. Wynne seemed pleased with her belongings, now stuffed in the extra pack Tomen had brought. Culver hoped it contained only her tools of trade, but the more his mind dwelt on it, the more troubled he became. He felt sure she had the Faerion. He could sense its presence in the pack, urging him to touch it, to see it, to unleash it. It grew on his mind with every step. He could see it in her pack. It bulged out in the middle. He kept his eyes on it. Suddenly, it began to move! It was alive! Someone spoke and he looked away. When he looked again it did not move. He convinced that it had and kept some distance away from the pack. Even singing to himself did not help keep his thoughts from the pack.

He closed the distance to Wynne heedless of Elise's puzzled expression as he passed her. Wynne stopped suddenly and Culver leapt aside so he wouldn't run into the pack. Tomen gave him a pained look, motioning for quiet.

"Sorry," said Wynne. "I had a rock in my boot. I'll let you know before I stop next time."

"Thank you," croaked Culver.

"Quiet," said Tomen. "We are nearing Troll country. See, the land is becoming barren."

The land was still rugged but there were more rocks strewn across the landscape. Jagged rocks of various sizes covered parts of the trail. Tomen led them from the trail deeper into the trees. When they were a good distance from the trail, he stopped.

"There are Trolls nearby. Six to ten by the number of tracks. They trampled the ground so much I cannot tell the exact number. I did not expect them. Something disrupted their normal activity. We must take great care. Trolls do love Tuor stew."

"Don't say that," said Culver. "You will scare Elise."

"If it saves her life, so be it. Have a care with your concerns, Culver. I think Elise can handle herself much better than you."

"Keep to the matter of the Trolls," said Wynne. "You obviously did not expect them here and have no experience of what it might mean. What would you do if you were alone?"

"I would wait until noon. The Trolls should be napping, but I am not certain. I would cover ground as fast as I could. The Trolls are not sharp witted and even if I made noise they would not be able to pursue immediately. They would be disoriented and the hundred yards or more it would allow me might get me to Arda unscathed."

"Might?" asked Elise.

"Might," confirmed Tomen. "There is the chance of running into a stray Troll, late for his nap. They are an unstructured people. Remember, they are swifter than they appear. Do not think their stupidity limits the danger. Tuors have been caught before."

"I think we ought to follow that plan," said Wynne. "I might be able to raise a fog to confuse any who pursue."

"At noon?" asked Culver. "I am impressed." Elise gave him a sour look.

"Do it, then," said Tomen.

When the sun was high, Wynne moved away from them, her face drawn and pale. Culver stared, fascinated. Avolan was more an herbal type of wizard; extracts of berries, potions, but Wynne used real spells. Culver grinned at Elise who shook her head at him although she was no less enthralled with the demonstration. Wynne began to chant softly, with a disturbing rhythm. Culver's skin began to crawl and he felt clammy. The chanting lasted several minutes. Culver knew the Trolls would find them before Wynne finished. Then the sound stopped.

The chilly fog rose up around them, moving with them as Tomen led them forward. It clung to them silently, swirling with their movements. Tomen slapped Culver on the back, grinning. "Let's make a go for it."

They ran quickly, stopping for nothing. Thin branches whipped at them, snapping in their passing. A quizzical grunt reached their ears, then another. Great voices rose up around them. There were more Trolls than Tomen expected. The fog puzzled them and enraged them, but the Tuors were too fast. The giant shadows lumbered among the trees unable to find their quarry. Wynne proved faster than a human, surprising Culver because he thought she was human; she moved like a Daerlan. This confirmed to him that sorcerers were a race unto themselves. They ran and ran through the daylight until the fog dissipated.

"I am too weary to hold the spell," said Wynne. She bent over with her hands on her knees.

"It was enough," said Tomen. "We are far enough away. We need to find shelter for the night in case the Trolls try to follow us. I don't think they will, but I never take a chance unless it's necessary."

"I think I see smoke over that rise," said Elise. "A campfire."

"Or a dwelling," said Culver. "There appear to be different tree tops over there."

"Yes, I see it," said Wynne. "Almost like an orchard."