The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (20 page)

"I didn't much like that," Samul admitted to Lord Carl. "Though it didn't seem to bother our guide.""He was never trained in arms, as we were, but he does not lack courage when it's needed.""Where do we go, now?" Carl asked Jamm.

"I was going to ask you that same question," the thief whis-pered, always wary. "Where am I to take you? The army was gath-ered east of the Isle, a few days ago. Is that our destination?""I have been thinking about this," Prince Michael said. "Not so far from here I have a cousin who married a nobleman. He is older and won't be involved in the fighting, but he profited much from his marriage into our family. He could contact my father's allies— the ones I think will be loyal to the House of Innes. I need such an intermediary, and A'tanelle would be perfect.""Are you prepared to trust him with your life?" Samul asked.

"I am."

"Where must we go?"

"South a league, more or less, and a little inland. His estates are near the town of Weybridge.""My father," Lord Carl began hesitantly, "did not hold A'tanelle in the highest regard, for what it's worth."Samul glanced over at Prince Michael, whose face shone nagar-pale in the starlight.

"A'tanelle is an opportunist, I admit, and a bit more cunning than I would like, but he is my kinsman by marriage and has enough authority to sway the undecided to our cause." The prince threw up his hands. "And if not A'tanelle, then who?""I can't answer that," Carl said. "I'm only telling you my father's opinion.""I don't think you need worry, Lord Carl," Prince Michael said, though he looked concerned himself.

"A'tanelle rose in the world because of his connection with the House of Innes. His future de-pends on us.

Despite his shortcomings, he is intelligent enough to know that. And you mustn't forget his wife: she is beyond reproach, for beauty, sentiment, or reason."Carl made a little bow.

"Weybridge," Jamm said. "We'll not reach it this night." The thief led them off at a good pace, not abandoning his practice of staying to shadow, crossing open land only when he had to. Without a torch to light their way, the going was difficult and slow, punctu-ated by many stubbed toes and tumbles on the uneven ground.

Parties were still out searching the countryside, even by night, and they found two encampments of huntsmen and men-at-arms, giving both a wide berth. Several times Jamm stopped them to lis-ten and watch the countryside carefully from the relative safety of a shadow.

The fifth time he did this Samul could stand it no more and whispered close to the little man's ear. "What is it, Jamm?"The thief shook his head. They were skirting a small wood of oak and beech, and Jamm pointed down the border. "Wait for me at the end of the wood," he whispered. "Go quietly."Samul hesitated, but Carl, who had utter faith in Jamm, mar-shaled them on. At the end of the wood they crouched among the bordering trees. The night air vibrated with the sounds of insects, and the leaves whispered sleepily in the low breeze. Off in the dis-tance, a dog's bark pummeled the night.

"What is Jamm up to?" Samul asked. Despite Carl's obvious loyalty, Samul had never trusted Jamm. Once a thief always a thief, he believed. People didn't change their natures any more than a fox could become a sheep.

He half expected Jamm to abandon them there and run off. No doubt he'd turn them in for the reward if he wouldn't face a noose himself. Samul found himself shifting from foot to foot, eager to be off.

They waited an inordinate length of time. Samul fixed his eye on a point on the western horizon and counted the stars that slipped behind the distant hills. When Jamm did appear he con-trived to do it with such stealth that he made them all jump, ap-pearing in their midst.

"I could hear you breathing from twenty feet," he told them softly. "Quick now!" And he was off again—along the edge of the wood, then on his belly through a field of oats. They "surfaced" in the shadow of a spreading cherry tree, then slipped through an or-chard, the barking dog closer now.

Hedgerows were Jamm's highways. Farmers habitually carted the rocks they removed from the soil and piled them along the bor-

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ders of their fields. If the fields were used for pasture, the rocks might be made into drystone walls to contain livestock, but more often they were merely piled, and whatever grew over or near them was left untouched. Wild apple trees, chokecherries, vines and bushes of all kinds, many armed with lethal thorns. These hedgerows grew thick and tall, providing a network of shadow roads across much of the night landscape.

Of course those same shadows could hide their enemies; but Jamm was so wary and had such matchless night vision that he held the advantage there. He led them on through the night, stopping often to listen. Samul could not help but notice Jamm was paying more attention to what might lie behind them than he had been formerly. Carl had noticed this too, Samul was sure, and the young noblemen had taken up traveling at the rear of their column and casting his eyes back often.

Jamm led them up a small hill crowned with a wood. There they hunkered down in the edge of the trees, and Jamm watched the shadowed countryside with the intensity of a hungry hawk.

"What is going on, Jamm?" Carl asked.

"We're being stalked. I'm sure of it.""By whom?"Jamm shook his head. "Someone more wary than I, and more skilled in woodcraft, too. But I've heard him now, several times, and I've caught glimpses of him—just a shadow slipping into cover— more than once." Jamm fell silent, his manner grim, unsettled.

"Is this some huntsman of the Wills?" Samul asked.

"I don't know what his game is," Jamm said. "I suspect he's known where we've lain up at night, yet we've not been disturbed. Explain that.""Perhaps he is some old friend of yours, Jamm," Carl suggested.

"If he was a friend, he'd have shown himself before now. No, this one's up to something…" It was clear the little thief didn't know what.

They hid in the wood that day, staying deep in the shadows. Jamm slept a little while Carl stood watch, but then he was up,prowling the wood's edge. Twice Carl caught glimpses of him, bent over, a hand to his cracked ribs. He was hiding it, but he was still not healed, and Carl wondered how long he would be able to keep this up.

"Is your thief patrolling our borders," Samul asked Carl, "or is he trying to catch sight of this imagined huntsman who's stalk-ing us?""I think he's doing both, though I doubt that Jamm is wrong. If he thinks someone follows us, then someone follows us.""But it doesn't stand the test of reason. If someone were fol-lowing us, he would have turned us in by now, especially if he knew where we hid by day. It's Jamm's imagination and fear, though per-haps these are not bad things. They might be the reasons that he's lived so long."The day crept by, a low overcast washing across the sky by mid-day. Light rain spattered down through the leaves, and a wind, cool and ghostly, rustled through the wood. Samul found it difficult to sleep. Rain, in rivulets, streaked his face, and just as exhaustion closed his eyes, the wind would moan through the trees, waking him with a start.

Crows found an owl roosting in a pine, and soon a dark army had gathered, crying and cawing from every perch. Finally, Samul sat up, cursing.

"I'm hungry, thirsty, and foul-tempered," he announced, "and now these bloody crows have come to ruin my sleep, as though the wind and rain were not accomplished enough at that particu-lar task.""Everything you say is true," Prince Michael answered, not ris-ing from his prone position, "but you are alive, and there is much to be said for that."Samul could not deny this, and hardly more than a day ago that had been in doubt. "I'm tired of sneaking through hedgerows and sleeping in ditches," Samul said. "I would rather a horse and a bat-tle. I wish Toren had allowed me that. Such a death I could accept.""Better than the life of a spy?" the Prince chided, but then he ￡8^nodded. "You speak like a true man-at-arms, Lord Samul. But we've made this bed of discomfort and dishonor for ourselves, so we must try to sleep in it, crows and all."Samul smiled unhappily. "Perhaps I've made such a bed for myself, Prince Michael, but neither you nor Lord Carl can make such a claim, I'm afraid. You've merely been the victims of mis-fortune.""But we are all equally desperate—dispossessed, almost friend-less, our worth measured by our ability to convince my father's old allies to rebel against this sorcerer and Menwyn Wills—which might make our worth very small."Samul considered this. The Prince seemed to be bright enough, and in an unusually candid state of mind. "Tell me honestly, Prince Michael. Are there men among your father's officers and allies who remain loyal to you?"The Prince almost squirmed where he lay. Samul saw that Carl A'denne was awake and listening carefully.

"To be honest, Lord Samul, my father did not create alliances out of loyalty. I'm not sure he believed in it. He preferred to em-ploy threats—force when needed. You can ask Lord Carl. His fa-ther wanted no part of this war, but my father coerced the A'denne into our alliance even so, driving them into their desperate bargain with the Renne. I'm not sure that I am any more respected than my father, but I'm sure our allies and my father's officers will not be happy serving either Hafydd or Menwyn Wills. I'm placing my hope in that.""Do you mourn your father?" Carl asked suddenly.

Prince Michael looked over at Carl, his look not so much of-fended as surprised by the question—as though he'd not consid-ered it. "The Prince," Michael said, "had little respect for me, and for my part, I felt the same toward him." He hesitated, the look on his face unreadable. "And yet, he was my father. He bore me on his back as a child; my wild charger as I slew imagined enemies with a wooden sword. The truth is, I mourn the man he never was more than the man he became." ~Samul would have to recast his opinion of this Prince—who was neither coddled nor foolish, as he had at first assumed. His visit to the Stillwater had matured him greatly, and a good thing too.

"I … I find myself mourning my father," Carl said, suddenly interested in the handle of his dagger. "And must remind myself that the Renne believed him still to be alive when we set out. I pray that he remains so and that we will see each other again.""I met Lord A'denne on several occasions," Prince Michael said. "He was a man worthy of esteem. I hope that you will see each other again, so he can tell you how proud he is of all you've ac-complished.""I've accomplished little," Carl said. He looked up at the sky, which seemed to be growing dark at last. "Dusk is finally coming."As if they'd heard, the crows took flight; a winged cacophony swarming south.

"The owl will be on the hunt soon," Carl said. "Smart crows to fly now.""Smart perhaps, but ill-mannered," Prince Michael said quietly. "We should follow their example and be off soon."Jamm returned half an hour later, shaking his head. "It will be too dark to travel this night without torches or lantern, and we can risk neither.""You mean we have to spend another night here?" Samul said, unable to hide his frustration.

"There are many worse places than this, your grace," Jamm an-swered. "My only complaint of this wood is that someone has been here, too recently, cutting trees. I hope they don't come back until we are many days gone."They made a small meal of the last of their food—bread going stale and cheese turning moldy. It didn't help the mood much. Samul found the rhythm of his sleep had been ruined and lay awake after darkness, listening to the forest endlessly dripping with rain. A fitful wind kept the trees from sleep, and far off, lightning tore at the sky.

Samul had nodded into a strange dream of food and a warm fire, when a hand on his shoulder brought him back to damp real-ity. It was cellar-dark, and the rain was falling in earnest.

"We're found!" Carl whispered. "They're coming up the hill."Someone came crashing back into camp then. "At least a dozen men coming up the hill with torches!" Jamm said, his voice rising in fear. "We'll have to go down the north side, as fast as we can. There is no cover there, just open pasture cropped by sheep." He didn't wait for the others to collect themselves but set out. Samul came stumbling behind, dizzy from just waking.

Beneath the trees there was no light, and they went forward like blind men, groping and flailing with their hands. Samul smashed his shins on a large boulder, fell, and left too much skin behind. The close wood claimed a great deal of blood and skin that night, but fi-nally they reached the far side. Jamm stopped there a moment even though they could see torches had reached the edge of the wood behind them. The landscape was utterly impenetrable, areas of black contrasting with areas of near black.

"Jamm, we have no time!" the prince complained. "They're in the wood.""They might not be the only danger," the thief said.

The sounds of their hunters crashing through the underwood could be heard.

"All right," Jamm said. "Keep low to the ground. There are hedgerows straight on. They funnel into a lane way with a gate at this end. It's easy to get off your course in the dark. When you reach the hedgerow follow it down hill, and we'll find each other at the gate."Beneath their feet the short grass was slick with rain. Samul's feet went out from under him first, then Prince Michael's, or so he thought—it was difficult to tell in the dark.

They slid and tumbled down the hill, getting farther and farther apart. The ground finally began to level so that Samul could run without fear of slipping, though the odd boulder or patch of thistle would trip him as he went. He glanced back once to see the torches coming out of the trees.

Somewhere ahead and to Samul's right, Jamm cursed. The hedgerow loomed out of the dark, and he plunged into a thick cedar. Disentangling himself, he turned right and hurried on as best he could, someone only a few feet ahead.

"The gate," Carl called.

"Where?" Jamm's voice came out of the darkness.

"You're through it, I think," Carl answered. "It's open.""It was closed at dusk…"A torch appeared twenty feet behind them, coming out of some hole in the thick hedge. Then two more ahead of them, casting light on the narrow lane way. There were men before them and behind. Samul heard a sword being drawn, then another. The third was his.