A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (8 page)

‘Something coming,’ said Jed

Will nodded. At the river, when he’d stopped to fill their water flasks, he’d seen dust-colored clouds like scratches on the sky. He had said nothing. No sense in worrying the others. But he’d seen such clouds before. They marked the passage of many men, or a fire. Maybe both. That’s how the Shield traveled; fast, without mercy, leaving naught but burnt villages, piles of skulls.

‘She said ‘
the land changes’
. What do you think she meant?’

‘Means it changes. I guess. Best be on our guard, young Will. Change ain’t never good.’

Finally, the track began to flatten. Sunlight glimmered, the gloom of the undergrowth eased. Was the forest coming to an end? The horses, feeling the ground level out, increased their speed.

‘Hold them back,’ Jed pulled at his mare’s reins.

Will dragged at his own horse, almost pulling him onto his hind legs. Slowly, inch by inch, the travelers made their way down the slope, out into the sunlight.

Jed whistled, long and low.
The land changes,
thought Will.

They stood at the top of a high cliff. Tumbling over the cliff edge, the river became a waterfall. Wind caught the water blowing it so it rainbowed into a veil of spray. Far below, birds circled.

Suddenly dizzy, Will backed his horse from the edge. ‘Now what?’

‘We fly?’

‘There’s a track.’

Jed eyed the narrow path that followed the top of the cliff like a muddy ribbon. He groaned. ‘Tell me you’re joking?’

‘Unless you’d rather turn around?’

Far away, fields rimmed with hedges lay quietly in the afternoon sun. And there, in the distance, was the line of blue that marked the sea. If only they had wings. Then they could step into space and let the air lift them up. The water rushed as it fell. The light breeze blew his hair into his eyes. Except for the enormous drop in front of them, the place felt strangely peaceful.

Jed peered cautiously over the edge. ‘It’s a long way to the bottom.’

‘You could do it fast,’ said Will.

Jed grinned. ‘Don’t know if I’d be in one piece at the end. Best we lead the horses, don’t you think?’

The route threaded along the cliff top until it reached a small gully that dropped abruptly downwards into a steeply sloping canyon. They passed behind rough stone, stepping around the roots of thick trees that leant over the abyss. What were N’tombe and Dana doing? Preparing something magical, no doubt. The Enchantress seemed to have a plan. Will sighed. Ah, Dana! She was so ... beautiful. Determined. How smooth her skin had felt, cool and wet from the water. If only N’tombe hadn’t come upon them.

The men spoke seldom, and then only to swear. It was hard going; steep, with a sheer drop to one side. Spread-eagled against warm stone, fingers splayed, he felt like a lizard on a wall. His fingers trembled so hard that he could barely hold the reins. His horse, shiny with sweat, hardly seemed to care, just shook his neck and, obedient as a dog, followed his rider. After that, Will worried less about the horse and thought more of his own feet.

It took only a few hours to reach the bottom, but it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, they neared the bottom. Rubbing his aching legs, Will stared up at the way they’d come. High above them red-gold cliffs arced against the evening sky. Far, far away, a speck moved. It seemed larger than most birds. Maybe it was an eagle. The spray from the waterfall mingled with the dark shape, made it harder to see.

Jed stared. ‘What’s that?’

‘Think it’s an eagle.’

‘Nah. That’s no bird.’

The speck grew larger. It’s falling, thought Will. Birds don’t fall. Then, suddenly, he realized: It’s not a bird. It’s a
man
.

Thump
. The earth shook. It sounded like a rock hitting the ground hard. Or a ripe pear, falling from a tree. The sort that breaks apart when it hits. All its juices fly out, and bits of fruit go everywhere.

‘There’s more,’ Jed pointed.

He was right; more men fell. And horses. Screaming, twisting, fighting the air. A few dropped quietly, as if this was a final adventure. These ones laid themselves flat, like arrows pointing at the ground. They had their arms by their sides and they plunged fast. A rain of men, falling.

‘So,’ Jed looked at him.

‘So.’ Will couldn’t bear to watch. To draw his mind from the sight, he asked, ‘Do you think that’s the army?’

‘Must be,’ said Jed. ‘Unless there’s a crowd of men failing flying lessons at the top.’ He turned back to the track. ‘Not much further to go, now, Will. Wonder how the Enchantress and your Princess are faring?’

‘You think N’tombe’s done this?’

Jed nodded.

Will felt sick. So many men, dying. So many horses, too. ‘Such a waste,’ he said.

‘You’d rather it was your head on their spear, lad?’

A favorite trick of the Shield: if you needed to be made an example of, you were impaled, and then beheaded. Your head, stuck on the top of a spear, would be carried into battle — a warning to others.

‘I guess falling isn’t a bad way to go,’ said Will, over the thud of bodies.

‘Over quickly and only hurts once,’ agreed Jed, his eyes tracking a falling figure. He winced when it hit the ground.

Finally, the sky above was clear. Relieved, the men turned to go.

‘Hold,’ said Will, quickly. More specks had appeared in the sky above. But these were different. Were they men? Or something else?

‘Down,’ hissed Jed.

Will threw himself behind a rock. Jed flattened himself onto the ground, pulled his cloak above his face, so blending into the mud.

They were men, falling, sure enough. Some screamed and fell. But others spread their cloaks, holding them open so they looked like giant bats. They watched the ground as they fell. Who were these men? Will half-expected them to lift above the treetops, to grow wings, and at the last minute soar upwards.

But the men fell and hit the ground hard, and then there was no more sound. The birdsong quieted. Even the wind seemed to hush.

‘Think we’d better check them ones. Seem like the kind of people who might just endure that fall,’ Jed picked himself up off the track.

They were magicians, thought Will. Soothsayers. I hope Dana is all right. Those men, they’re not to be trifled with. He loosened his blade. How ruthless N’tombe must be, to send so many men to their deaths. Yet what choice did she have? It was as he’d said to Dana — kill or be killed. What choice did any of them have?

The dead lay far from the base of the cliff, as if they’d flown westwards while falling. They’d torn branches as they’d landed, creating a clearing, so the men lay under open sky. The place smelt of fresh sap and blood.

They looked like broken toys. Blood pooled beneath them, splattered the rocks. The magicians, their matted hair blood-specked, lay staring angrily up at the cliff. Jed dismounted and plunged his knife into their necks, just to be sure.

‘No bleeding. They’re definitely dead.’ He sounded pleased.

Ripe fruit, thought Will, feeling nauseous. He turned away.

‘Shame to let that meat go to waste,’ Jed eyed the broken bodies.

‘You’re not suggesting ...’

‘No! Hell, no! Not the men. Just the horses.’

‘
Eat
the horses?’

‘Why not? They’re dead, ain’t they? And we’ll need food before long.’

Flies hummed. The cliff reflected warmth from the sun; Will could feel the difference from the cool forest. Jed started chopping flesh from a horse leg. Will turned away; he didn’t want to look at the broken trees, the broken men. There was a flicker in the trees.

‘Jed!’ he called.

Jed looked up, just as the wolf came out of the trees. ‘Aargh!’

He grabbed the leg, now free from its owner, and rushed back to his wary chestnut. Ears cocked back, the animal shuffled its feet, staring at the wolf. It circled, trying to get away. One foot in a stirrup, Jed hopped about, trying to clamber onto the horse without dropping the meat.

Any other place, thought Will, watching Jed struggling with a circling horse, this might be funny. But not here, not with all the dead men staring at the sky. He set an arrow against his bowstring and aimed it at the wolf.

But with all these unresisting bodies to feed upon the big animal wasn’t interested in moving meat The wolf growled at Will, a noise that made Will’s horse shiver, but otherwise left him to pass on into the trees. As Will looked back, he saw other shadowy figures come free of the wood. All the predators of the forest will be out tonight.

‘Come on,’ he said.

Birds sang their nighttime chorus. The ground was stony and rough and there was no sign of a track. The only marker was the cliff; if they kept its grey ramparts at their backs then at least they knew they were traveling in towards the coast, where the Enchantress had said they would meet.

They walked slowly, their horses stumbling and weary. We need shelter, thought Will. If we don’t stop soon, we’ll have a horse with a broken leg. And then where will be?

Finally, the wood opened and the travelers passed into a small glade, where a river trickled gently over rocks. The trees at the edge of the clearing were charred as if by a great fire, and in the center lay a toppled oak. Its spreading roots were silhouetted against the darkening sky.

‘There was a fire here,’ said Will.

‘Lightning,’ Jed replied. ‘Maybe.’

They dismounted and stretched and Will led the horses down to the water.

Jed glared up at the gathering clouds. ‘Looks like rain.’

The horseflesh was tough as boot leather. But it was meat, and Will was hungry, and it was better than an empty stomach. Tonight, even boiled bracken root tasted good.

They cleared away the dishes, washing them in the stream lest a bear or boar might smell them and investigate. Then they strung the remains of the horse leg into a tree and unrolled their sleep rolls. The fire burned down to embers, the horses murmured, whickering softly to each other. Leaves dropped on the tarpaulin above. Will lay on his bedroll, tried to sleep. Lord knew, he was tired enough. But he worried, oh how he worried. Was she well?

‘Go to sleep, lad,’ said Jed’s voice in the darkness. ‘She’ll be fine. The Enchantress is with her.’

Will lay on his side and stared out at the dark forest. His eyes closed.

Seemed he’d barely gotten to sleep when he jerked awake. Patter patter; rain dropping from the sky onto the canvas. The sound reminded him of his childhood, of lying on his bed, listening to the rain on the roof and his parents talking softly in their room next to his. A sound of safety. Was a while since he’d had that feeling. He lay, drifting twixt sleep and wake, hearing the rain and the roaring of the river, then he turned to his side, easing his back on the hard ground.

Later, the wind picked up. The forest roared, the canvas cracked like a sail. Dana will be all right, thought Will. She’ll be warm and dry in a cave somewhere. He pictured her lying in the dark. And the Enchantress is with her. I’ll see her on the morrow. No, maybe the next day. Tomorrow, the cliffs will be too wet to pass easily.

A distant flare lit the sky, turned it bone-white. Then Boom! A roll of thunder like the wheels of a thousand carts. Crash! Louder now, longer, reverberating. A clamor of sound, echoing from the stone cliffs until it seemed the whole world was made of noise.

‘God’s teeth!’ swore Jed, lurching from sleep. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Thunderstorm,’ Will watched the sky, counted from the flash. One-and-two-and ...

‘Maybe this clearing wasn’t such a good idea,’ Jed pointed at the ruined tree.

‘Lightning don’t strike the same place twice,’ said Will.

There came another flash, and, like a giant’s fist on a coffin-lid, the thunder detonated, rolling, growing. The rain hardened, pouring like a sky-fountain onto the canvas.

‘It’s coming from the cliffs,’ Will called.

‘Ware the canvas! Ware the canvas!’

Just in time, Will grabbed the corner of the tarpaulin. Bucking and heaving in the wind, it had broken its mooring to the tree. Rain dashed against his face. He stared up at the streaming sky. A harsh call, like the cry of a lost crow, sounded shrill above the storm. The horses neighed anxiously. Behind the cliff-top, the sky flashed distant white. Thunder growled, echoing from the cliffs.

Slowly, the rumbling lessened, grew more distant. The rain lightened to a drizzle, and stars peeped between the fragmenting clouds. The storm was moving away.

Will threaded the rope back through the corner and tied the canvas down.

‘The fireplace’s still dry,’ Jed sounded surprised.

Next morning, broken branches littered the clearing and the river ran high and muddy. Will groaned. Morning after a bad night was the worst part to being outdoors. This was the time when every stone on the ground made itself known to his hips, his back. Evidently feeling the same, Jed sat for a time on his bedroll, saying nothing, breathing deeply. Finally he stood, arched himself, and looked over at Will.

‘Getting too old for this life, boy.’

Will wanted a brush for his hair, a brush for his teeth, a razor for his jaw, and hot water on his face. He staggered to the river, rinsed his face. It helped, kind of.

‘In the stories,’ said Will, ‘the hero rouses fresh as a daisy. He leaps on his horse, gallops away to find the dragon or the princess or some such.’ He eyed Jed, who was coughing like his lungs might split. ‘The hero never has lice or bed bugs. He’s probably always clean shaven, too.’

‘Ah well.’ Jed, scratched his armpit, ‘there’s real life, and then there’s stories, lad. You know how you’re in real life?’

Will walked back to the campsite and began rolling up his bedroll.

‘In real life,’ yawned Jed, ‘the hero doesn’t get the girl, the dragon eats the knight. In real life, you get sick. You smell. In real life, you fight dirty to win.’

Will unwound the rope from the tree and pulled down the meat. ‘In real life,’ he looked over at the still scratching Jed, ‘you eat horse meat and bracken root.’

‘And you think yourself lucky.’

‘Aye. You think yourself lucky.’