Beyond the Prophecy (21 page)

At the same time, Loran shouted, “Vatar! Get him! I want him
alive.”

Through the fog, Vatar could make out dark shapes on foot
moving toward him. Themyri. About a dozen of them. Then a large white shape
lifted above the ground to his right. Quetza’s wyvern avatar. The Themyri
hesitated and then turned to flee.

“Come back here, cowards!” Loran screamed, his voice rising
in pitch.

Vatar lowered his lance. They were severely outnumbered.
Best to end this quickly, before Loran had a chance to rally his allies. The
one thing he knew about Loran, other than his temper, was that Loran didn’t
like pain—at least not his own. If Vatar could wound him, Loran might just run,
taking his Themyri with him. All they needed this day was time enough to get to
safety. Vatar pointed the spear at Loran’s shoulder and spurred his horse forward.

Loran recoiled as soon as the spear point touched him,
jerking his horse away. He looked wildly around. The Themyri had all
disappeared in the fog. The angry bellow of a wyvern sounded from above and was
repeated from somewhere behind Vatar. Loran growled in frustration and turned
his horse to follow the Themyri.

Vatar let out a breath and reined his horse back. No point
in following. A quick flash of mingled joy and fear ran through him, but he had
no time to think about that now. He turned to see how the others were doing.
Zoria sat astride her horse, struggling to maintain control of three others. A
large black wyvern stood between Zoria and the enemy, wings outspread. It
roared again. Platan still lay on the ground, held there by a large white-furred
creature. That must be Balan. Quetza circled in and landed, melting back into
her human form even as her feet touched the ground.

Thekila sat bolt upright in her bedroll. The surge of fear
wasn’t hers and it hadn’t been a nightmare. Something had happened—was
happening—to Vatar.

“What is it?” Terania asked in a sleepy voice from the
opposite side of the tent. “Had a nightmare?”

“Hush.” Thekila turned to check on the twins and little
Jadar, still sleeping behind them. “Something with Vatar.” She drew a deep
breath and began the calming and focusing exercises. The ambush last year had
taught her that her fear could be a distraction for Vatar. Possibly a fatal
one. She had to master her own emotions. Hard to do when the tension afflicting
Vatar’s body caused the same reaction in hers.

Vatar hadn’t been very talkative last night. Preoccupied
with something. She knew they’d reached the river yesterday. Had they crossed
already or were they planning to do that today? She knew how flowing water
still affected him. And
that
river would be far worse. Maybe it was
nothing but that. Well, there was one way to find out.

Their bond made it relatively easy for her to find Vatar and
to extend her Powers in a distance viewing. She sucked in a breath at the sight
of Loran’s enraged face. “Exiles!” Almost as soon as she recognized Loran, his
expression turned to pain and then he turned and ran—rode away, actually. When
had the Exiles learned to ride? And who’d taught them?

Thekila breathed out in relief. She felt Vatar’s tension
easing, too. “It’s all right. It’s over now.”

“How do you know?” Terania was now sitting up on her
bedroll, but she kept her voice down low enough not to wake the sleeping
children.

“Distance viewing. They had some kind of skirmish with at
least one of the Exiles. I recognized Loran. But they succeeded in driving
him—or them—off. I’ll bespeak Vatar later and find out exactly what happened.”

Terania waved her hand dismissively. “I guessed the distance
viewing. How did you know that something had happened? I just thought you were
having a nightmare at first.”

“Oh, that. Vatar and I are bound. I felt it.”

Terania blinked in astonishment. “Bound? Already?”

Thekila shrugged. “Well, it was happening anyway. Something
happened just over a year ago, a problem I couldn’t help with because I was so
pregnant with Jadar I could only waddle, so we chose it.”

“What was that?” Terania asked.

Thekila barely heard her. Something about the word pregnant was
ringing through her like a chime. Why? She blinked. Oh. She ruthlessly clamped
down on those emotions, too. That could only be even more distracting to Vatar.

Terania tapped her arm. “I asked what made you choose to
bind yourselves so
early?
”

“Sorry.” Thekila shook her head as she tried to refocus her
attention. There were certainly things Teran and Terania should know before
they reached Caere. She’d been waiting until they could be more comfortable at
the farm, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea after all. “It’s complicated. And
it involves a lot of family history—Vatar’s family. And it concerns some things
you definitely should know before we reach Caere. I’ll tell you all about it
while we ride. That way, Teran can hear it at the same time.”

Terania stood up—well, as far as the tent allowed,
anyway—rubbing her back. “Comfort. I’ve almost forgotten what that is.”

Thekila grimaced in sympathy. It hadn’t been that long since
she was new to the plains, herself. Between sleeping on the ground and riding
all day, she could guess just how uncomfortable the other woman was. “It’ll be
better in Caere, I promise. I won’t be sorry to sleep in a real bed, either.”
She only wished she’d be sharing that bed with Vatar. Well, it wouldn’t be that
much longer.

Vatar sat still, scanning around him as well as he could
through the fog.

“All clear,” Quetza said. “The Themyri ran as fast as their
legs could carry them. Loran and his friend are hot on their heels. Which only
leaves him.” She pointed at Platan.

Vatar dismounted. “Is he wounded?”

Balan stood up and shifted back into his true form. “Don’t
think so.” He grinned. “Just had the wind knocked out of
him.
”

Vatar crouched down to check. “And got a nasty knock on the
head. Looks like he’s still out.”

“Good,” Quetza said. “We can tie him up before he comes to.”

Vatar shook his head. “That won’t work. Or not for long. We
can’t keep him prisoner.”

“We’ll see about that,” Quetza said. “But first, let’s get
him tied up and loaded onto his horse. We want to be away from here before they
decide to turn around and come back for him.” She nodded to Vatar. “I’ll
bespeak Orleus. He’s probably at one of the outposts. If so, he can ride to
meet us when we stop at noon. We can discuss what to do with Platan then.”

Vatar nodded. Now wasn’t the time to argue about it. Quetza
was right about getting away from the ford as quickly as possible.

~

At midday, they rode to the top of a rise with a commanding
view of the country for miles around. Orleus was already there, just pulling
the saddle from his black stallion, Racer, and preparing to give the lathered
horse a rub down. He dropped the rag he’d pulled out for that purpose and ran
to embrace Quetza, practically dragging her, laughing, from her own saddle.

Vatar grinned, watching them. Inside himself, he felt for
his connection with Thekila.

Vatar. I’ve been waiting to ask you what happened this
morning.

Vatar gave a brief description of the skirmish.

I knew it had ended well. So, now you have a prisoner. Do
you think you can get more information from Platan?

Vatar blew out a breath.
Possibly. But the bigger problem
is that we can’t hold him—not for long. So, what do we do with him now that we
have him?

Ah. Maybe Orleus will have some idea. Have you talked to him
yet?

Vatar chuckled.
No. He’s occupied at the moment, saying
hello to Quetza. Will you greet me like that when I get home?

I’ll probably put Orleus to shame.
Thekila paused.
Their bond conveyed the impression of Thekila drawing a deep breath.
Vatar,
I only just realized this morning that . . . I’m pregnant.

Vatar remembered the brief flash of mingled joy and fear
he’d felt that morning when he was too busy to attend to it. That feeling had
been so ephemeral he hadn’t been sure, afterward, if it had been real. Now he
knew it as the moment of Thekila’s realization.

Vatar clenched his fists. He should be there, with Thekila,
not out here. There to protect her, to look out for her.

It’s very early yet, Vatar.
Thekila’s voice was
soothing.
We’re halfway to Caere now. Danar’s here to see that we make it
home safely. And I promise to see Boreala first thing.

Pa was with her. That was good, but not good enough.
I
belong there. Now we’ve got our volunteers to Orleus, I’ll ride straight back.

You’ll do no such thing.
Thekila’s mental voice was
firm.
Loran has seen you. He knows where you are. You will not go riding
alone across endless miles of grassland. You’ll be much safer riding back with
Arcas.

That’ll take a month or more.
And she would be
virtually alone at the farm, with only Elaria to look after her. Well, and
Teran and Terania, for all the help they’d likely be.

You’ll still be back here before most women would even
know they were pregnant. I’d prefer to have you back all in one piece, thank
you.

Vatar blew out a breath. He didn’t like it, but . . .
You’re
right. But tell Arcas to hurry.

I will. Take care of yourself.

You, too.

Vatar took a few more deep breaths, using one of his calming
exercises and trying to convince himself that Thekila would be fine and so
would
their
. . .
daughter.
That felt true.
How useless of his Fore Sight to supply him with that and not an answer to more
important questions—like whether or not to trust Zoria and what the Exiles’
real goal might be. Things he could use.

Well, at least Thekila would be safe in Caere. Boreala would
be there to take care of her. And, if he asked, maybe Father could provide some
extra protection until Vatar could get back to take up his proper duties. And
she was at least far away from any potential fighting. There was no way the
Exiles could get to her or the children in Caere. He was glad for his decision
to keep Zoria far away from Caere. And Zeda. And all points in between.

Vatar shook his head. Time for those thoughts later. There
were other problems to deal with first.

Orleus let go of Quetza finally and nodded as she made the
introductions. “Well, so now we have a prisoner. And some new recruits. Good
work.”

“We need to talk about that,” Vatar said.

Orleus paused to look over the hill top. It was mostly bare
of anything taller than the grass, but there were a few sparse shrubs on the
southwestern side. “Tie him up over there while we discuss things over there.”
He pointed to the northeastern side.

Vatar nodded. “But someone should keep an eye on him.”

“Leave that to Seeker and Arrow,” Orleus said, pointing to
his two hunting dogs already lying in the meager shade supplied by those
shrubs.

Orleus quickly finished rubbing down his horse and joined
the others. “What’s your concern, Vatar?”

“We can’t keep Platan prisoner.”

Orleus drew in a breath. “I appreciate your ethical
concerns, but—”

“No,” Vatar interrupted. “Not that we
shouldn’t
keep
him. We
can’t
. It’s something I figured out when the High Council tried
to arrest me three years ago. It’s not possible.”

“Why not?” Zoridan asked.

Vatar answered with a question directed to Zoria. “Platan
can do a fourth-level Transformation—a complete shape change, right?”

“Yes,” Zoria said quietly. “His avatar is a black wolf.” It
was practically the first thing she’d said since the skirmish.

“Well, sooner or later.” Vatar glanced over to where Platan
was uselessly pulling on the ropes that bound him and grimaced. “Apparently
later in his case, he’ll figure out that he can also
Transform
that rope into something he can break. And he can
Transform
himself into whatever he needs to—well, within certain limits—to escape any
prison. It doesn’t have to be a wolf. If you put him in a cell, he’ll
Transform
the bars. If you put him underground, he can become—I
don’t know, maybe a giant mole or badger—and dig his way out. Short of having
Balan here sit on him all the time, it’s not possible to hold him.”

Orleus blew out his breath. “I’d forgotten that.”

“So what do we do?” Balan asked.

“First, we try to get as much information out of him as we
can,” Quetza answered. “Then . . .” She looked to Orleus.

“Right. What then?” Orleus looked back to the prisoner.
“I’ve killed often enough in battle, but I don’t relish the idea of killing
anyone in cold blood. But if we can’t hold him, we don’t dare take him into any
of the outposts or even Tysoe itself, where he could scout our weaknesses. We
especially don’t want the Exiles to find out about our current difficulties
with Kausalya.” He looked up at Vatar. “Or even that Kausalya exists, if we can
help it.”

Orleus’s words faded into an awkward silence no one seemed
to want to break. What else, indeed could they do with Platan, if they couldn’t
hold him? It would have been better to leave him out cold where he’d fallen, to
limp back to his comrades on his own.

Zoria sat chewing her lip. “Then let me release him,” she
said in a rush.

“What?” Zoridan asked in horror.

Zoria grasped her brother’s hand. “If I release Platan and
pretend to escape with him, he’ll take me right back to the Exiles. Then I can
find out what they’re planning. They’ll trust me.”

“No they won’t,” Balan objected.

“They will,” she insisted. “They know I was supposed to be
exiled, too, if I ever regained my right form. Lorania will trust me for sure.”

“How would you explain being with us?” Quetza asked.

Zoria shook her head and stared off across the grassland. “I
don’t know. I . . . I’ll pretend I only came along with you because I didn’t
know how to find the Exiles any other way.” She looked up at Quetza. “I can
find out where they are, what they’re planning and relay the information to you
through Zoridan.”

Balan reached over and covered her hand with his. “No. It’s
much too dangerous.”

She half-smiled at him. “I wasn’t much use in that fight
today. Only good to hold the horses. Someone you and Zoridan had to protect.
More of a liability than a help. But this is something I
can
do.
Probably the only thing of any use.”

Orleus rubbed his chin. “It could work. But Balan’s not
wrong. It would be very dangerous. If they suspected you . . . there’s probably
no way we could get to you to rescue you. Not even Quetza.”

Zoria nodded. “I understand. But I came out here to help. To
. . . to make up for what we did—tried to do—to Vatar. I don’t think I’ll ever
be a fighter, but I know Lorania and Platan will trust me. And they can get the
others to trust me, too.”

Orleus looked to Quetza and then to Vatar.

Vatar shrugged, honestly uncertain.
“I don’t know whether
to trust her or not, but I may be biased,”
he said to Orleus through Far
Speech.
“I don’t think she knows much—yet—that could hurt us, either.”

Orleus considered it for a moment. Finally he nodded. “All
right. We’ll set it up for tonight. You might as well go ahead and make camp.
Quetza and I will see what information we can wring out of Platan before
nightfall.”

Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “The first thing I’d like to know is
when the Exiles started riding horses—and
who’s
teaching them to ride.”

Quetza snorted. “Based on what I saw, I don’t know that
anyone’s teaching them. They must be trying to figure it out on their own.”

Orleus stared at the tethered horses. “They’ve lost every
battle and skirmish when we’ve been mounted against their forces on foot. They
must have started to realize what an advantage that is to us. I’ll have to take
a closer look at his horse. I’ve had reports of a few horses being stolen from
the outlying farms. Themyri will steal horses for food, of course. I thought that
was what it was. I may have been wrong.”

~

Vatar forced himself to lie quietly in his bedroll despite
his urge to be up, spear in hand. Platan needed to believe that all of them
were sound asleep for this plan to work. Through
slitted
eyes, he could see that Balan—nominally on watch—sat with his back to a
boulder, head sagging forward.

A soft rustle in the dry grass told him where Zoria walked
stealthily toward Platan’s still-bound form. The younger man still hadn’t
realized his own ability to free himself. Maybe it was possible to imprison an
Exile after all—as long as they showed as little imagination or initiative as
Platan.  Well, from what little he’d seen during their first encounter,
Platan had always been the follower, not the leader.

With his eyes still half-closed, he watched Zoria approach
the prisoner and touch his shoulder. She swiftly shushed his exclamation,
looking pointedly at the others rolled in their blankets. The moonlight glinted
off her knife as she sawed through the ropes that held Platan to the thorny
shrub. Platan stood and stretched, rubbing his wrists.

Vatar could just hear the hiss of their whispered voices,
but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Didn’t really need to. They’d
rehearsed Zoria’s answers to the most likely questions half the afternoon. He
could recite them himself. And make a pretty good guess at what Platan was
asking. The only real question was whether Platan would believe Zoria. Well,
that and whether Zoria was lying to Platan—or to Vatar and his friends.

The two shadowy figures crept toward the two horses that had
been left saddled for them. Zoria was to claim that she’d saddled them before
going to free Platan. Vatar just hoped no one expected her to saddle another
horse anytime soon. It was one of the many skills she’d failed to master since
leaving the Valley. Her ineptitude would certainly give her away if she was put
to the test.

When the two horses galloped off, Vatar sat up, meeting
Balan’s eyes. They nodded to each other and Vatar lay back down and tried to
settle himself for sleep.
I just hope we haven’t released two enemies
instead of one.