Things Unseen: (An epic fantasy adventure series) (The Caris Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

“I’m pleased to meet you too; everyone here is so friendly and welcoming.”

“We don’t get many visitors. It is always a pleasure to hear stories from outside, and a particular honour to welcome a...” she paused as if rethinking what she was going to say and finished by saying, “...member of The King’s Horse and his companion.”

“You know of The King?”

“Of course, doesn’t everyone know The King?”

“My experience is so limited, I do not know. I come from a village to the north and apart from the small band of King’s Horse who I travelled with and a couple of villages; I have met no one else.”

“So, how do you find yourself here, so far from The King’s road with only one travelling companion?” Elan asked in interest.

“A story! Let us hear your story!” Colden exclaimed in excitement.

“Yes!” Rodrin called out, running to join the circle.

“Food first!” Amarin interrupted. “She is still recovering from a head wound, do not badger her! There will be plenty of time for stories over the next seven-day.”

“I thank you for your generous hospitality but I fear we will not be able to stay that long. The King is at war and we are on our way to meet with him at the frontline.”

“I am afraid that your friend will not be fit to travel in less than a seven-day, and possibly much longer,” Colden told her gently.

“Oh, of course.” Caris looked down, ashamed that she had momentarily forgotten the severity of Crispin’s wounds. “Yes, we should eat. I don’t like to leave Crispin alone too long.”

“Jarla sits with him. He is gifted and will take good care of him,” said Amarin.

Caris nodded and contented herself by looking over to Crispin’s room, which was only forty paces away,
if I had wings.
A
t least we will hear if Jarla needs to call for help. Not that I could do anything for him, but there are three healers here, and they seem to know what they are doing.
Caris stared around the small circle in amazement. Her village did not have one healer, and hadn’t done for generations. Everyone always spoke longingly of the towns that had a healer,
but here are three! And another is close by, tending Crispin
.

“Are all elves healers?” she asked, as the idea occurred to her.

They laughed in reply. “No, just the first four you met,” said Jeniel.

“This is a lot, even for elves. It is more usual for us to have one healer and their apprentice. We have been particularly blessed, to have so many at the same time,” said Colden.

“Yes, though we wonder if there is a reason for such a great blessing,” Amarin said sombrely. Caris thought the look she gave Jeniel was full of apprehension and concern.

“Every great blessing comes with great responsibility,” Jeniel said happily and reached over to grab some food. “Eat,” she said to Caris, and with that, everyone began to help themselves to food.

Janen, Syngar, and Kalen galloped out from under the trees. The broken grass giving a clear indication of the direction the lost ones had taken. Prince stretched his legs, relishing the freedom from the ever-encroaching brush. Janen allowed the stallion to have his head and he surged forward leaving the others behind.

He let his horse run for a while, but well before Prince had begun to tire, Janen pulled him back to a canter, allowing Kalen and Syngar to catch up. They pushed the horses hard for the rest of the day and into the evening. The moon was full and it was not difficult to follow the path left by the lost ones.

An involuntary groan from Syngar ordered their stop.

“I can keep going,” he protested as Kalen signalled for them to rein the horses in to a walk.

“If I remember correctly, you refused my request for a democracy,” was her only reply.

When the horses had cooled down, they made a cold camp without leaving the trail of beaten down grass. There was no use moving away from the trail, as they would be clearly visible to anyone who ventured nearby anyway. Janen tended the horses, brushing the dry sweat from their coats and giving them a well earned small ration of grain. Kalen tended Syngar. His wound had reopened and was bleeding.

“It’s not as deep as it was. It is mending, though we are making its job difficult.”

After a cold meal, Janen climbed into his roll. The sun had beaten down on them relentlessly during the afternoon; the wind had been hot and dry, sucking the moisture from his skin and giving him a terrible thirst. They had sipped from their flasks only sparingly as there was little water to be found in the Barren Lands. He was thankful for the moonda fruit he had eaten after his smoked meat, it had helped alleviate some of his thirst, though his throat still felt grainy and his lips were cracked and swollen.

And that was only the end of an afternoon. I hope we find them soon; I do not relish the thought of spending too much time out here,
thought Janen.
The ground was hard and coarse tufts of grass, as tough as nails, pricked him even through the padding of his roll.
The confounded wind has turned cold,
thought Janen.
It was hot all day, and now it’s freezing.
Turning his thoughts from his discomfort, he lulled himself to sleep with memories of Caris.

After saddling the horses in the morning, Janen submitted to Kalen’s administrations. His cuts were healing well and he was amazed to discover that his burns were completely better; leaving behind only faded pink marks to show where they had been. Kalen had been applying the creams to him three times a day, but once the pain had faded, he had stopped paying attention. She no longer put the lavender coloured cream on his arms and torso, just his face.

He looked at her; he had failed to notice how well her skin was clearing up, but was grateful to see that it was remarkably unblemished. When she was finished with him, she smeared a liberal amount over her own face and packed her small assortment of supplies away.

“That stuff is amazing!”

“It’s remarkably potent,” she replied, obviously pleased with the results it was having.

“I can see why the lost one’s are unused to sleeping at night, I would forego the pleasure myself if I had to stay out here too long,” Syngar grumbled as they climbed onto their horses.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so cold,” Janen replied.

“And already it’s as hot as a bakers oven,” said Syngar. “I hate the Barren Lands.”

Janen nodded his agreement, regretting leaving the relative shelter of the long grass to perch on Princes’ back where the, already hot,, wind blew stronger.

They pushed the horses as hard as they dared in the heat, stopping only once midmorning to allow them to drink brown water from a small shallow pool. Syngar tasted it himself, screwed up his face and said,

“Not desperate enough yet.”

The grass had begun to thin out. There were more clumps of pale orange grass now and less of the blue. It had given way to a hard packed rocky ground, not dissimilar to the land where Janen had grown up. The similarity unnerved him. The country looked the same but was somehow wrong. Janen’s land had never been remarkably hospitable, but to those who knew its ways it had given freely. This land was not as welcoming.
It feels hostile,
Janen realised.
Not just inhospitable, but somehow, knowingly malevolent.
He kept his strange thoughts to himself.

They cantered over the dry earth, the sun directly overhead, beating down on their wind raw skin. The horses were tired, the long expanse of flat earth had finished, replaced by small ridges running across their path. Kalen gestured for them to stop. Without a word, she took the bit from her horse’s mouth and led it to a dry clump of grass. She sat down in the shade of her horse and picking up a rock began drawing in the dirt. Janen made to look at what she was drawing, thinking it must be a map or something, but Syngar pulled him away by the arm.

“Let her be,” he said, “She’ll talk when she knows what’s what.”

Janen gasped, “Is she...?”

Syngar smiled at Janen’s awe. “I’d say she’s probably interpreting something she saw, or maybe seeking more if she didn’t get enough information. Best we can do is not distract her.” Thus saying, he left his horse to work at some long dry grass, lay down in its shadow, and after commenting, “I had a lousy night,” fell promptly asleep.

Janen followed his example, but found he couldn’t sleep for wondering about Kalen.

He had grown tired of chasing his horse’s shadow long before she finally came to join him.

“I’ll wake Syngar,” said Janen starting to rise.

“Let him sleep,” she replied, waving him back down.

Janen complied, watching her intently, waiting to hear her revelation.

“They are two ridges to the west.”

“So close?”

“So close.”

“Well, why are we stopping? Let’s go!”

“They have met with reinforcements, three score at least.”

“Oh,” Janen was filled with dismay, he had been tracking around ten lost ones and had been confident that as weary as they were, and with a proper plan of attack, they would have been able to defeat them.

“How are we to defeat half as many?” he asked. “Are there those lizard things? Derks?”

“No, I think not, the grey ones servants do not mix well.”

Syngar snorted in agreement, as he came to join them.

“So we’ve finally caught them, hey?” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Two ridges over,” Kalen replied, gesturing to the west.

“And they’ve got reinforcements?”

“Possibly three score.”

“Great! So what have you got for us boss?”

“A smack in the head, if you don’t cut that out! What have you got for us?” She asked with a withering stare.

“Well, we can’t fight them, so well have to trick them,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Same tactic as last time?” asked Kalen

“Mmmm, they’ve got fresh reinforcements, and one can only hope they’re not dumb enough to be so careless twice.”

“I think it’s safe to assume we are not dealing with the same grey ones.”

“I think it’s safe to assume the Dark One did not allow those grey ones to live long after their failure,” Syngar replied grimly. “But there is a good chance he used their punishment to teach the others not to repeat their mistake.”

“Which was?” Janen asked.

“Falling asleep on the job,” said Syngar.

Janen stared at him, waiting for more information. Finally, Kalen elaborated.

“Last time we stole the pendant back from them, we snuck in at night when they had all fallen asleep after running themselves into the ground.”

“Last time you stole the pendant from them? How long has this been going on?”

“Ha!” Syngar laughed. “Not that long, they stole it from The King. We chased them and stole it back again, then they ambushed us and stole it, now it’s our turn to steal it from them.”

Janen stared at him in disbelief, finally replying, “If it weren’t so serious, it would be ridiculous.”

“Indeed it is and I say we call an end to the whole thing!” declared Syngar.

Kalen shook her head at him. “So, we can’t fight their superior numbers, we can’t count on their wiser and fresher reinforcements to all fall asleep without leaving a guard, so how do we regain the pendant?”

“We steal it,” said Syngar.

“Syngar, please do try to be helpful,” replied Kalen.

“I mean it. Who says they need to be asleep for us to steal it?”

Kalen merely looked at him, waiting to see if he was going somewhere with his comments.

“In my home town, there was a girl from a poor family. She was very beautiful, and had a way of speaking that would captivate even a volve. What she didn’t have was enough food to eat. I used to watch her in the market,”

“Syngar! You’ve never said!” Exclaimed Kalen.

He smiled at her sadly, “It was a long time ago.” A sharp pain stabbed Janen in the chest, as he realised that Syngar was single because he had been unable to attain the love of his youth. Syngar had been poor, too poor, Janen realised, to pay a bride price. He had lost the girl he loved, just as Janen was destined to lose his.

“Anyway, I used to watch her in the market, and what I saw her doing was stealing things. The point is, no one else saw her doing it. They weren’t asleep, she wasn’t even hiding. She was a master of distraction. She would smile sweetly, talk playfully, and while they were admiring her eyes, she would be pilfering an apple from right under their noses.”

“It’s an intriguing tale Syngar, one that I am going to hear more of one day,” Kalen said with a pointed look, “but I hardly think that if I go into their camp smiling sweetly and talking playfully, it will have the outcome we’re hoping for.”

“Yes, that would probably be inadvisable,” he said dryly. “However, I thought you were intelligent enough to not take me quite so literally. The point I was trying to make was that a distraction might work.”

“If we two get them to chase us, Janen can slip into the camp behind them, retrieve the pendant and escape without them being any the wiser,” Kalen said, catching on to his idea.

“But then, they’ll be chasing you!” Janen said with a profound dislike of the plan.

“Yes, and I am not that eager to give myself up that easily,” said Syngar. “I was thinking more along the lines of a distraction that didn’t involve them actually seeing any of us.”

They started brainstorming, but it became increasingly obvious that they needed more information about their enemy’s camp.

“I’m going to check it out,” said Janen.

“I don’t like it,” said Kalen, “It will be safer come dark”.

“We need to be ready to act come dark, we need the information now. Trust me Kalen; I have hunted for years in this kind of terrain. They will not see me.”

Kalen bit her bottom lip, struggling with her desire to keep him safe and the knowledge that none of them was safe anyway. Finally, she nodded her assent and Janen started off.

“Take this Janen,” Syngar called, holding a knife out to him. Janen took it gratefully. His sword would be too reflective to take, but he could conceal the knife in his clothing. He knew that if it came to the point of needing it, he would be lost anyway, but he felt better for having it all the same.

Janen stayed behind the ridge as he ran to the north. He hoped that anyone on the lookout would be expecting them to arrive from the east. He had only gone as far as he could shoot an arrow three times before the low ridge began to level out.

Hoping he had gone far enough he crawled to the top and laid on the ground, peering toward the next ridge. Sure enough, a lost one sat atop it looking east. He considered heading farther north. He was a long way from the lone sentinel and even without the shelter of his ridge, he could probably continue moving away in relative safety. If he did that, however, his back would be to the lookout and if he were spotted, he wouldn’t know. At least if he made his way across here, he could watch the lost one as he advanced.

He pulled himself over the top and down the other side on his belly, the rocky ground grating against his flesh through the burn holes in his shirt. Once down the other side he eased himself up onto his knees. He had feared the sentinel seeing him silhouetted against the sky, but felt more comfortable with the ridge behind him. He was wearing the clothes he had always hunted in, their tan colour blending well with the surrounding landscape. He stayed low and slowly made his way to the next ridge, keeping his eyes on the lost one in the distance.

The ridges hadn’t seemed so far apart when he was riding. He estimated there were only five bowshots between these two, but they seemed to take an eternity to traverse. His knees hurt badly from the low crouch he was maintaining across the dry ground. Whenever he could find a clump of grass large enough, he sat behind it, stretching his legs in front of him and scanning the next ridge for any more of the enemy. Twice, he saw the sentinel begin to turn his head toward him, and he froze, low to the ground, trusting in the distance and his colouring to camouflage him.