Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (45 page)

“Can you sense her now?” Taran asked.

Robin drew a shaky breath, sat on a log and closed his eyes. Taran waited. Cal climbed from his bedroll and came to sit beside him.

The Captain eventually opened his eyes, punching the log in frustration. “Nothing!”

“Let’s try a Powersink,” suggested Taran.

Robin grabbed the idea. “Yes, that might work. Cal, you’ll have to be passive in this, we just need your strength. Taran, will you let me have control?”

“Of course.”

They showed Cal what to do and the three patterns flowed effortlessly into one. Taran felt Robin take hold of the power and cast it beyond the Veils. He sent it arrowing across the alien terrain in the direction of Marik’s mansion. Taran felt as if he were flowing over the land on a wave of power, seeing but not quite seeing the familiar outlines of the mansion’s structure. Yet it was only an impression of the stones and mortar; only an imprint of its substance in the substrate.

They searched for signs of life and one psyche in particular. After a thorough but fruitless search, Robin pulled them back.

“Where are they?” Taran asked.

Robin shook his head. “Either there’s a powerful and impenetrable shield over the entire building, or there are only a few servants left. Even the shanty town’s deserted. I don’t understand it. I felt no evidence of disaster, only abandonment. Sullyan definitely isn’t there. What do I do now?”

“Why don’t we widen the search a little and look in the surrounding countryside?” said Taran. “If there was a fight or a raid, she might have fought her way free. Maybe she’s laying injured somewhere.”

They meshed again and returned to the mansion’s vicinity, gradually widening the area of search. Again, they drew a blank. They couldn’t find even the merest hint of her passing in the substrate.

Robin swore. “I really don’t understand this. There ought to be some trace of her somewhere. It’s as if she’s completely vanished. Just ceased to exist.”

They puzzled over their lack of success, Taran and Cal throwing out ideas that really only served to pass the time. Suddenly, they heard a commotion on the outer edges of the camp. Robin left the tent and Taran followed, amazed to find that dawn was breaking. He hadn’t realized they had spent so much time searching through the Veils.

The unrest turned out to be a bunch of outriders returning from night-scout duty. One of them, seeing Robin, cantered over his lathered horse. He called the Captain’s name.

“What is it, Dexter?” said Robin, striding forward.

The Sergeant pulled up in front of his senior officer. “It’s the invasion, Captain,” he said, short of breath. “It’s over.”

“The invasion’s over?” repeated Robin. “What do you mean? Details, man.”

Dexter took a deep breath, sweat sheening his ruddy face. “They’ve withdrawn, Captain. Just before dawn.”

“What, all of them? Completely?” Robin clearly couldn’t believe it.

“The entire invasion force, yes sir. A few raiding parties remain but they’re well scattered. The scouts all report the main body of warriors seemed to get some sort of signal at the same time and began an immediate retreat through the Veils. They’ve killed the severely wounded but taken the rest. You know what that means, sir.”

“Yes I do,” said Robin. He sounded both amazed and puzzled.

Taran didn’t understand, so Robin explained. An Andaryan badly wounded on this side of the Veils, he said, would be unable to travel back through them without risking serious damage to both body and mind. If the wound was infected, they were unable to return at all, they would die in screaming agony if forced into the Veils. And they would only be able to survive a few months if trapped permanently in an alien realm. The same principle applied to Albians, which was why Sullyan had been so careful with Bull’s shoulder wound. Whoever had sent this invasion force was clearly willing to risk the probable damage to recover the troops, which meant numbers must be vitally important.

Taran realized how little he really knew about the life he’d chosen to lead. Clearly, he’d been lucky to escape serious injury in the past. He’d known that the inhabitants of each realm couldn’t exist long in another but hadn’t appreciated the significance of an outland infection. The thought of what could have happened because of his ignorance turned his blood to ice.

Robin and the Sergeant were discussing the arrangements for returning to the Manor. The Captain ordered Dexter to take about a hundred of the fittest men and remain in the area to keep an eye on the situation in case the Andaryan withdrawal was a feint. The taking of their wounded, however, had convinced him it wasn’t. Whoever was behind the uprising needed every available warrior, damaged or not.

When he was done, he turned back to Taran and Cal. “From what Dex has told me, the mysterious signal that caused the Andaryan withdrawal occurred at almost the exact moment I heard the Major call me.” His voice was tight with strain. “That’s too much of a coincidence. Come on, we’re breaking camp. The sooner I get the men back, the sooner I can search for her.”

“Will the General allow that?” asked Taran.

Robin’s expression was grim. “He won’t be able to stop me.”

The company, tired and grimy, followed Robin back to the Manor. They met and merged with some of Vassa’s men, each captain leaving a small detail of scouts behind to mop up any straggling raiders. The Colonel himself had ridden on ahead.

Robin had them ride on full alert, weapons ready, in case the withdrawal should turn into an ambush. All the reports, however, both from scouts left behind and those in front confirmed the original report. The invasion forces had departed. The only outlanders left were those who had taken advantage of the situation to do a little looting.

Their camp that night was only a few hours’ ride from the Manor. The men were tired and in all conscience, Robin couldn’t hurry them. He chafed at the delay but wouldn’t leave them to ride on alone. Sullyan had given him this command and if he couldn’t immediately go searching for her, he wasn’t about to let her down by abandoning his responsibility.

Taran cooked a meager supper, although none of them had any appetite, while Robin spoke to Bull back at the Manor. The big man, he reported, was as worried as they were, and if not for the stricture of not braving the Veils alone, he’d have gone to search for Sullyan. Apparently his shoulder wound was fully healed, so it wouldn’t stop him from traveling. He had nothing encouraging to tell them, but he had one unusual piece of news.

They linked together so they could all hear him. He told them that for the last three or four nights, Rienne, who had worked tirelessly in the infirmary, earning admiration and gratitude from swordsmen and healers alike, had suffered a recurring nightmare. She could make no real sense of it except to say that it definitely concerned the Major.

She’d had visions of strange faces looming above her; feelings of great pain and pressure, of terror, torment and chains. Startling awake with sweat pouring off her and her heart aching in her chest, she would be left with nothing but a sense of holding on, of not giving up, which for some reason was vitally important.

After suffering this nightmare two nights running, Rienne went to Bull. He’d tried his best to catch a glimpse of her visions, but he simply didn’t have the skill. He’d reassured her as best he could, but told them she’d be infinitely relieved when they were back.

Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?
demanded Cal.

What would that have achieved except to worry you even more?
said Bull.
Besides, she asked me not to until you were nearly home. She didn’t want you worrying. She thought you might lose concentration and take an arrow in the back.

Cal grimaced but remained silent.

But why should Rienne be able to pick anything up from Sullyan?
said Robin.
She’s not an Artesan. And I’ve been open for days to anything the Major might send.

All I can think, lad,
replied Bull,
is that Rienne’s an empath. I know a lot of healers are, it’s what makes them so good at what they do. And she and Sullyan did spend that evening getting drunk together, remember? From what I recall of some of the things they discussed, I reckon they got pretty close that night. Although empaths are not Artesans, they are far more sensitive than ordinary folk. Rienne might well have formed a strong bond to Sully that night, enough to enable her to ‘hear’ the major.

An empath?
asked Cal.
Wouldn’t one of us have picked that up before?

You’d have thought so.
Bull’s voice carried a touch of sarcasm.
I imagine you and Taran were too wrapped up in your own business to wonder about Rienne. Especially if she’s showed no overt signs until now.

Tell her we’ll be back tomorrow morning,
said Robin.
If she gets anything else, we’ll need to know. I’m planning to set out through the Veils just as soon as I’ve reported to Blaine. If you’re coming, Bull, you’d better be ready. Oh, and I’ll need a remount. Tell Solet to make sure it’s Torka.

He broke the link.

“We’re coming, too,” said Taran, his assertion drawing a startled glance from Robin. “Well, you didn’t think we’d stay behind, did you?”

Robin smiled and gripped his arm. “Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need all the power we can get.”

They collapsed into their bedrolls early that night, anxiety and weariness taking their toll. Taran half expected to be woken by a nightmare, but his exhausted sleep was undisturbed. He didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved.

Robin roused everyone early and the company moved off in the pre-dawn light. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and it was raining. Eager to reach the Manor, they kept the fastest pace they could sustain.

The sentries saw them coming and opened the gates. They rode in to the cheers of their comrades who had made it back before them. Taran saw Cal looking for Rienne, but she wasn’t there. He guessed she was already in the infirmary.