Vault Of Heaven 01 - The Unremembered (47 page)

The instant cold forced a cry from Wendra’s throat. But her horse began working alongside Jastail’s mount toward the opposite bank.

Already, Wendra’s legs were growing numb from the cold. The horses chuffed and swam, struggling to make the far shore. Behind them on the riverboat, the Bar’dyn howled, meeting the swords of the boat guards and dispatching them quickly. Then the riverboat begin to burn. Some people jumped into the river ahead of the swinging blades; others fell beneath the onslaught. Some jumped to escape the flames, which danced on the river water beside the reflection of the lesser light.

Then into the water came the Bar’dyn, pulling with ferocious strokes. She glanced ahead; could they reach the east bank ahead of the Quietgiven? The Bar’dyn gained on them, snatching the slowest of Jastail’s henchmen from behind and pulling him from his horse. His scream ended in a gurgling sound.

The boat had gotten them close to the bank, but Wendra did not think the horses could outswim the Bar’dyn. Downriver, dozens of Quietgiven had seen their escape and now swam swiftly for the shore.

The riverboat became an inferno of swirling flames on the water, men and women trying to swim away from the heat, their arms succumbing to the freezing cold water and slowing their flight for land. More than a few slipped soundlessly into the depths.

Hearing another splash just behind them, Wendra turned in time to see a Bar’dyn crush the second of Jastail’s men before sending him adrift, blood flowing from a wound to his neck.

Then Jastail’s horse lurched from the water, jumping onto the bank. The Bar’dyn uttered indiscernible words and kicked harder toward Wendra. But before they could close the distance, her own horse gained the land and pulled her from the river. In a heartbeat, she followed Jastail north along the riverbank into the trees, the feeling in her legs all but gone.

The wind cut at Wendra as her horse raced to stay with Jastail’s fleet-footed mount. Tree limbs and tangled roots whipped past as they forged their own path through the dense wood that clung to the riverbank. Twice, her horse nearly went down, the swim having exhausted its legs. But the steed righted itself and fought to stay close to Jastail.

The forest rose like a series of dark columns frosted with the glow of the moon, but its beauty hid itself from Wendra, who clung desperately to her reins. They splashed through an estuary and up into a dense stand of firs. Jastail slowed at the top of a short rise and cocked his head toward the river to listen. Wendra looked in the same direction and saw a shape moving among the trees.

“Run!” she screamed, and kicked her mount hard in the sides.

The horse bolted forward past Jastail just as a Bar’dyn dove from a thicket of saplings. Jastail scarcely had time to draw his sword and turn. The Bar’dyn’s bulky body sailed through the air with a strange grace, hitting Jastail’s horse full in the side. The horse, the Bar’dyn, and Jastail all went down in a knot of arms, legs, and drawn weapons. Immediately, the horse stood and bolted into the trees. Jastail rolled aside, one large Bar’dyn hand clasping his ankle. A wet tearing growl escaped the Bar’dyn’s throat as it yanked Jastail back. Wendra could see blood on her captor’s pant leg where the beast’s razor-taloned hand held him firm.

The gambler struggled against the Bar’dyn’s strength, but to no avail. Jastail’s left hand scrabbled for purchase on root or rock to pull himself away, the other clinging to his sword. Finding it useless, he stopped fighting the Bar’dyn, twisting his sword in a quick spin and clutching it with both hands like a plunging weapon. As the Bar’dyn pulled him in, Jastail used the creature’s force and drove the blade into the beast’s shoulder.

The Bar’dyn let go and stood erect, howling in pain. The sound vibrated in the trees and hummed in the forest floor. Jastail’s sword rose like an ornament from its body, the creature touching it tentatively as it mewled in its throat. With a painful jerk, the Bar’dyn pulled the blade from its fibrous skin, a soft, wet sound accompanying the sword’s removal. One of its arms hung slack, but the other lifted Jastail’s weapon to its eyes and surveyed the blood streaming in runnels down the blade’s flat edge. It grunted and tossed the sword aside, fixing its baleful eyes on Jastail, who crawled backward, kicking with one good leg.

Wendra realized she could flee. Jastail would die, or he would find a way to defeat the Bar’dyn, but either way she could be several thousand strides north of here when the battle ended. She looked north and considered kicking her horse into a run.

The Bar’dyn took large steps toward Jastail, who seemed unable to climb to his feet. In a moment, it would pounce upon him and Jastail would be dead. To Wendra’s right, water suddenly splashed at the river’s edge: more beasts out of the Bourne. In the space of seconds the fury of many Quietgiven would descend upon them. The forest trees and low growth and Jastail and the Bar’dyn all swam before her eyes, her lungs burning with hot breath that longed to pass over her teeth in violent song. She shook her head, dismissing the strange irrelevance of the inclination and thought.
What would Balatin do?
Still, her legs would not move—they were still numb from the river cold—she could not stand to defend Jastail.

Dear Will and Sky, I prepare to help my captor. I should like to see him suffer at the Bar’dyn’s hand. This very night he played me like a token.

The Bar’dyn took another menacing step, now seeming to deliberately threaten Jastail, knowing the man was beyond self-defense. Jastail butted up against a tree, turning on his side to crawl around its base. Then the Bar’dyn grew still, a serenity entering its face as if it contemplated the death that would follow in the next moment. Heavy feet pounded the forest floor, growing louder from the direction of the river. Time fled—Wendra knew she must intervene now or not at all.

In the tense moment of calm, Wendra slapped her horse with the reins and plunged forward to place herself between the Bar’dyn and Jastail. The Bar’dyn looked up at her in surprise, its death mask gone and hatred twisting its features.

“Sa’hon Ghetalloh,” the Bar’dyn shrieked, compacting the very air around Wendra. It turned at the sound of its brothers racing to its side. “Your blood will nourish the dust, Womb, then no more will you people the land with their plan.”

The coarse, ripping sound of its voice caused her horse to rear, kicking with its front legs. One hoof caught the Bar’dyn in its wounded shoulder, forcing it to double over in pain. A second hoof landed on its head, driving it back into the saplings.

Wendra yelled to Jastail, “Get up!”

The gambler struggled to his feet, leaning against the tree. Wendra pulled her mount backward by his reins and Jastail struggled onto the saddle. As the highwayman put his arms around her waist, three Bar’dyn emerged from the trees behind the saplings where the first Quietgiven had recovered its balance. Wendra kicked hard, spurring her horse into a dead run. Through the trees Wendra pushed, gathering speed. Behind them, the Bar’dyn pursued, their feet pounding the ground. But slowly they outdistanced them, and before the lesser light fell west of the river valley, Wendra was alone again with her captor, who slumped against her back.

*   *   *

Wendra did not stop to tend Jastail’s wound, nor to warm herself or eat. She followed the riverbank, keeping it just within sight through the trees, but stayed far enough away to avoid being seen by anyone traveling by boat. She had done as Balatin would have, and she wondered now if she should attempt to push Jastail from her saddle and regain her freedom. But the man still claimed to know where Penit was, and the promise of finding the boy held her in its grasp.

The cool smell of evergreen softened the heat of their flight, and at dawn Wendra stopped and helped Jastail down to rest. Her horse needed rest, as well. She hoped the Bar’dyn would need to regroup and sleep, or her intervention would have been for nothing.

Birdsong filled the strengthening daylight, and Wendra pulled up Jastail’s pants leg to check his wound. The gambler muttered incoherently, flinching at her touch. His leg where the Bar’dyn had held him was purple and black, lined with several deep cuts from its sharp nails. Wendra cautiously wound her way to the river and wetted a length of cloth from her cloak. Crouching at the water’s edge, she looked both north and south along the smooth surface that reflected a clear morning sky. No boats or Bar’dyn interrupted the perfect glass image of the water. She closed her eyes and muttered hopeful words about the others reaching Recityv safely.

Silent, she paused there, listening to the lapping of water at her feet and watching swallows fly close to the surface gathering food. The steady burn in her lungs subsided, relieving her need to rasp out an angry song. The soft melody of her songbox played in her mind, and she allowed herself to briefly forget Jastail and all that had happened since descending from the plains of Sedagin. Into her repose rose the face of Penit promising to return. The image scathed her, chided her for poor judgment and selfishness. Though she did not fully understand how, she’d been able to heal herself, but had done it too late, after the boy had gone to find help. She realized she had not attempted to sing the song for Jastail, to try to heal his wound. But even should it work for someone beside herself, she did not intend to ease his suffering. He would live; that was enough. Wendra wrung the cloth out and returned to find Jastail more coherent.

“Why did you save me?” he said as she knelt close to him and softly wiped his wound.

“I believe you tell the truth when you speak of the boy,” she explained evenly.

“And if I don’t, you have made a very bad wager.”

She lifted her face from dressing his bruised and cut leg and prepared to press her point with a murderous look. But his words hit home. The anger abated and her face fell slack. “The second time my life will be the stakes,” she replied. “But this time, I choose it.”

Jastail frowned at her words. “Why is this child’s life worth risking your own? You could have left me to the Bar’dyn and been free. Or you could leave me now; I am too weak to stop you. But you tend my leg.… Have you not considered how the child came so far from you, who brought him, or why?”

Wendra returned her attention to Jastail’s leg. She finished cleaning off the blood, and wrapped the cloth around the bruised and damaged flesh, tying it loosely to avoid paining him.

“If you know of him, it is likely it was you who took him, just as you took me,” Wendra reasoned. “For what purpose I don’t know, but I’ve seen how you treat others, and I’ve no delusion that you will repay this kindness.”

Jastail’s hard, angular face betrayed no softness. In his aspect Wendra saw the same look as she’d seen at the game table the night before, the look of abandon and considered revenge wrought on anyone he knew. He would become whole, and become again the deceiver and user that knew no bounds to winning any game.

“Come,” he said, “we’ve lost much time.”

Jastail stood, favoring his hurt leg. Wendra stood beside him and allowed the man to lean on her as they walked to the horse and mounted.

“And let us talk of why the Quietgiven are so deep in the south and so intent on finding us,” Jastail said, cocking a quizzical brow.

Wendra clucked mildly, allowing the horse to walk at an easy pace. They made their way slowly until sun covered the river valley. Shafts of the greater light, filled with dust motes, fell through high boughs of fir and towering hemlock.

“Tell me why Bar’dyn swim a cold river after a girl,” Jastail said as they wound east through the canyon.

“They did not knock
me
from my horse,” Wendra said, smiling. “I think they sought a highwayman, perhaps someone who has stolen something that belongs to them.”

He laughed. “Yes, yes, they are swept up in their need to reclaim a few coins, which mean nothing to them in the Bourne.” He paused before continuing in a mirthless voice. “Or perhaps what I have is less of metal and more of man.”

“The Quietgiven want nothing of man but his death,” Wendra returned blackly.

“Perhaps,” Jastail began, “but the one may serve the other.” He laughed again. “It is rare fortune that I won
two
bounties at Gynedo’s table last evening. Though the second is one whose value I’m likely to have to discover on my own, yea?”

Wendra considered. “You find me the boy, and you’ll be glad of it, I assure you.”

“Clever,” Jastail said, squeezing Wendra’s waist affectionately. “Making a partner of me. You’ve seen how well my companions fare, lady. Be careful how you make your alliances. I expect that a time shall soon come when we have fewer secrets from each other. But the time in between is fuller for the ignorance.” The highwayman smiled.

The small earthen highway snaked through the canyons until the mountains fell to wider rolling hills. A fork in the road turned a smaller path south along the back of the mountains that fronted the river valley. Jastail directed Wendra to take the south fork. Within an hour their horse could go no farther.

*   *   *

That night Jastail made a fire from wood that Wendra gathered. Her chill ran deep, having lingered in her flesh ever since the river. The bones in her legs felt brittle and shaky. A lazy sun westered against the mountains to their right, casting them in shadows while touching the few clouds with bright russet and crimson hues.