Bastion (31 page)

It kind of surprised him. He hadn’t thought that Jakyr was that . . . clever . . . when it came to quarrels within a family. Especially not when you looked at the way he and Lita sniped and battled with each other.

But then again, maybe when it was happening to someone else, it was a lot easier to see what needed to be done. When it was happening to you, things got blurrier, the way a picture did when you brought it too close to your eyes.

What with all the work, they stayed a full seven days. Jakyr seemed to be getting impatient after a while, but Mags thought that he had never learned quite so much about ordinary folk. He knew all about the very poor and the very rich, but about the sorts of people in the middle, not so much. He picked up a lot of useful trivia about various trades, about how a village was run, and about good ways to handle all sorts of problems.

On the whole, it was a very instructive stop. With Lita off in her own inns, and he and Jakyr able to go and relax in the smaller inn that Lena was playing in before they left for the Waystation, things were quite pleasant in the evenings. Lena seemed to appreciate having them in her audience as well—though, really, with Bear there, giving her adoring and encouraging looks after every song, she didn’t need
them to bolster her spirits.

But their luck started to change as soon as they left the town and headed back toward The Bastion.

It was a glorious morning, if cold. There was a heavy hoarfrost coating everything, which was pretty enough but made Mags more than glad for the fur-lined winter cloak that Princess Lydia had insisted he have as a present from her. The sun beamed down from overhead; they’d wanted to give the others a good head start and had decided to stay long enough to have luncheon. People waved them out of town, and Mags’ spirits at least were high.

When they were into the forest, Mags happened to glance back at the unusual sound a bird made, and what he saw behind them through the skeletal branches of the trees made a chill go down his spine.

“Jakyr!” he said urgently, as Dallen whipped his head around to see what had alarmed him. “Behind us! Blizzard!”

Jakyr swiveled in his saddle and saw what Mags had seen: charcoal-gray clouds on the horizon, looming closer with every moment.

“Do you carry some sort of blizzard attractor?” Jakyr asked, in mingled irritation and alarm. “I swear, every time you and I go anywhere in winter, there’s a blizzard. Never mind, time to move. It’s a damn good thing the others started so early this morning!”

As Dallen and Jermayan went from an easy lope into a full-out gallop, Mags had to wonder if Jakyr was right. Blizzards certainly did seem to play a large part in his life—far larger than he liked, to tell the truth.

There had been the early one that had nearly caught them on the way to Haven when Jakyr had first rescued him, for instance. That blizzard, like this one, had caught them on the road. They’d barely made it to the Guardpost they were aiming for and had been snowed in there for two days. Then, later that same year, there had been the blizzard that lasted three whole days, shut down all of Haven for a solid week, and had kept it under snow for a good long time after that. He’d been caught at the stable and had nearly died trying to get from his stable room to the Collegium in the teeth of it. If it hadn’t been for having Dallen in his head, he probably would have just given up, laid himself down in the snow, and that would have been the end of it.

On the other hand, that blizzard had been very useful to him. That was when he’d first really used his Mindspeaking Gift and had found out how powerful it was. With people scattered among all the buildings on the Hill, and no way to effectively and quickly communicate with them, there was no way to tell whether everyone had made it into safety. He’d volunteered to “look” for people who might have gotten trapped between buildings up on the Hill, for there was always the possibility that some of them had not realized how powerful and deadly the storm was until it was too late. He’d found five people that way, with Dallen’s help. It had been easy, really, easier than raising shields in the first place had been.

And that was when the true scope of his power had been uncovered. He, it seemed, could Mindspeak to anyone and Mindhear anyone. That was, so they kept telling him, incredibly rare.

That was also how he had found Bear when the assassins kidnapped the Healer.

They hadn’t come there—in disguise as envoys—for that purpose, of course. No one had any idea there was such a thing as an entire clan of killers, killers who wore some sort of talisman that both guarded them from Mind-magic and would murder them if it thought they had been caught.

All anyone knew was that they came from somewhere no Valdemaran was even remotely familiar with.

He knew now that they had all taken a contract from Karse to disrupt or even cause the overthrow of the Valdemaran monarchy, but no one had known that at the time. All that was certain was that they had come to spy and perhaps make trouble; but more by accident than design, he and some of the other Trainees had managed to uncover the fact that they were frauds and scare them out.

He also knew now why the assassins had taken that contract in the first place—it helped them finance their quest to try to find Mags’ parents. Mags’ foreign parents, who had been murdered by the same bandit band that had lived for so long in The Bastion. Mags’ parents, who, it seemed had been members of the assassin clan and had fled so fast and so far that even the best of their kind hadn’t been able to stop them.

The assassins hadn’t actually been looking for Mags. They hadn’t known Mags existed, and the first lot hadn’t recognized him at all. But the one who had been sent to help get them out when they were exposed and who had kidnapped Bear certainly had. . . .

Mags would never forget that moment.

Mags stepped into the light, his hand clutching his sword hilt.

The thin, dark-haired man dressed in strange, dark clothing stared at him.

“Not YOU!” he screamed. “YOU are not supposed to be here!”

He would probably see that moment in nightmares for the rest of his life.

:You might want to concentrate on the nightmare closing in on us.:

Mags looked back over his shoulder. There was definitely more black cloud back there, and that didn’t bode well. It seemed cruel that ahead of them was a bright, sunny, nearly cloudless sky.

:Dallen, keep me from fallin’ off. I gotta try to warn the others.:

He didn’t wait for an answer; he dropped all of his shields, which was safe enough out here, where there was nothing but birds and beasts and—

Wait. Woodcutter.
The man was intent on the tree he was chopping down; wise, since when a woodcutter’s mind was on other things, bad accidents often happened. Mags concentrated as hard as he could.
:BLIZZARD!:
he “shouted” into the man’s mind, timing his warning for the moment when the ax blade would actually strike the tree.
Let’s not make things worse by choppin’ his foot off!

He sensed the fellow jump; the ax lodged in the tree and stuck there. The man looked up and spotted the ominous clouds. The first thing that leaped into the man’s mind was relief that his cottage was not far away. The second was to get his ax out so he could run for its safe walls.

Good.
Mags left his mind behind.

He found two more people out in the woods, a hunter and a trapper. He managed to alert both of them before moving on. He hoped they would get to shelter, though he probably would never know for certain, since neither of them had a destination in mind when he pulled his thoughts away from them. But they had a better chance now than they had before he’d found them.

At last, he found Amily and the rest. With a surer touch now than he’d had when he’d first tried to talk to her this way, he didn’t so much shove his way into her thoughts, the way he’d done with the three strangers, as he slipped into them, a welcome guest instead of an interloper.
:Amily! Blizzard behind you!:
he Sent urgently.

:What?:
he Heard—and it was almost exactly like a deliberate Sending. Then
:Oh, gods! Don’t worry, we’re not that far, and we’ll run for it!:

He could have cheered at the clarity and strength of her thoughts, except he had other things to think about right at that moment.

It was going to be easier, for him at least, to Send to Jakyr than to try to shout over the pounding hoofs of the Companions. He crouched farther down against Dallen’s neck and closed his eyes.
:I warned the others,:
he Sent.

:Good,:
came the labored response.
:I think we’ll make it, but the storm will catch us before we get there. This is going to be a near thing.:

:Just get us there,:
he replied.
:You an’ Jermayan know yer way around woods better’n me. We’ll follow you. Just don’t lose the track when it hits!:

As they pounded along the track, Mags began to wonder if waiting for that steak-and-kidney pie for luncheon was going to prove to be the mistake that cost them dearly.

Maybe it would have been better to ask for the sausages in rolls and eat in the saddle.

Well, too late now to undo that mistake. And hindsight was always crystal clear.

He kept shooting glances over his shoulder, and the view didn’t get any better when he did. The clouds boiled up behind them, still charcoal-gray, still closer every time he looked. The wind picked up behind them, colder and damper, cutting through the cloak and making him wish Lydia had got one lined with sheepskin instead of fur. Ahead of them, the trees swayed, and the wind moaned in the branches.

It seemed they had been running forever, with the menace coming on fast behind them, and the landscape never varying. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were running in circles, except that you could still see the clear track passing through the trees ahead of them, with the hoofprints of the vanners clear in the damp earth and moss, huge horseshoe shapes squashing leaves into the mud.

He fell into a kind of trance, concentrating on making himself the least burden to Dallen he could, using every muscle in his body to stay in perfect rhythm with the Companion. Were they closer now? They’d been running flat out for a couple of candlemarks or more, and he knew that Companions could achieve incredible speed for very long periods of time. They’d have been about four to six candlemarks away at a simple lope when he first noticed the storm. How far at a gallop? He actually didn’t want to look down, because he knew that the ground would be going past at a rate that would make him dizzy.

Now he could hear the wind and the storm howling behind them, and the branches of the trees ahead of them and around them lashed the sky as the wind strengthened ahead of the blizzard. The clouds were right overhead, like a shelf of rock overhanging them.

How far away from the caves were they now? He didn’t recognize anything around them, but then again, there weren’t really any landmarks out here.

The storm pounced on them.

Suddenly they were enveloped in streaming curtains of snow, carried on a bitter, bitter wind. He felt Dallen gasp as it hit them, felt him put in extra effort. All he could do was hold on and close his eyes, trying to lend his strength to his Companion and praying with all his might that Dallen wouldn’t trip or stumble into a hole. It had been one thing to run at a full gallop when the track had been clear—but now?

And then, suddenly, the wind stopped, and Dallen stumbled a little into a walk.

He opened his eyes.

They were in the cleft in the rocks that led into The Bastion. They were safe!

He almost fell off with relief.

They came through the cleft into the pocket valley, and now into snow falling mostly straight down. And there was a
lot
of it. Already it was hoof deep here.

The hills cut the wind but not the snow; it was coming down so hard that it was like being in a thick fog, and despite the fact that it was barely midafternoon, it was as dark as thick dusk. But there were two lights burning through the white, about where the cave entrance should be, and Mags knew that the others had put lanterns out there to guide them in.

:Feel your way. Walk slow,:
he told Dallen sternly.
:Don’t need to have run all that way only to break an ankle now! In fact, I’ll get off and help. You just follow me, right on my heels.:

He slid off Dallen’s back before the Companion could object. Jakyr looked at him oddly through snow coming down so thickly it almost obscured his face, then did the same. Mags took the lead, walking slowly, shuffling through the snow to find any dangerous spots. Dallen walked directly behind him, in his footsteps, Jakyr in Dallen’s, and Jermayan’s in Jakyr’s, as the best way to find a safe path. The floor of the valley was littered with stones, the odd branch, little depressions. Those were not a problem when the ground was clear, but now—step on the wrong thing and a sprained ankle or hock could be the
best
outcome. Dallen had already suffered one broken leg thanks to Mags; Mags was not going to let him suffer another.

The cave entrance had never looked so welcoming. When they reached it, Dallen and Jermayan paused to shake off snow that had already managed to build up a good two fingers deep on their saddles, necks and haunches, then trotted down into the stabling area. Mags and Jakyr each took a lantern from the front of the cave and headed into air that felt almost summerlike in comparison with the white hell outside.

Amily came flying out of the darkness and caught Mags by surprise in a frantic embrace. He managed to keep her from burning herself on the lantern only by a last-moment maneuver that put it over their heads. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to; Mags understood all too well just how frantic and worried she had been.
He
had been pretty frantic and worried himself!

When they were done kissing—which in itself was very warming and welcome—they held hands and followed Jakyr down to the blessed light and further warmth of the central area. Lita, Lena, and Bear were already seeing to it that Dallen and Jermayan were rubbed down, blanketed, watered, and fed. The vanners were drowsing, blanketed, and content.