Duty (Book 2) (22 page)

After the camp had settled, Gen enjoyed the quiet and the soft rain that tapered off during the middle of the night. He glimpsed Maewen ascending the hill to scout forward and wished he could go with her. Beyond the rise awaited the new and unfamiliar where few but the half-elf ranger had trodden for hundreds of years. And somewhere in the distance awaited a city of legend where the great work of the prophecy would begin.

The next few days held few distinctions. Due to the downpour of the night before, they were unable to ascend the steep, muddy road that had been hastily excavated from the hill during the summer months. They ascended the third day and headed northeast over a pleasant plain between the shard edge and the cliff. It waved with tall green grass and purple wildflowers that shocked the nose with a rich, pungent smell. Once they cleared the shard edge, they turned due east, the lush plain giving way to stunted, yellowing grass, the moist winds from the lake replaced by a stifling, humid heat.

Due to the water needs of the caravan, they planned to press due east until they found the Khell River, which they would follow until it met up with the Dunnach River. The Dunnach River would take them into the Far Reach Mountains and the ancient Dunnach River Bridge. Regent Ogbith explained that the water would also provide a natural barrier of protection against attack. At the bridge they would resupply with food and animals brought in during the spring and take the Mora Road to Elde Luri Mora. The scouts reported that the road was intact and easy to travel.

Going was slow despite the clear weather. The heat forced long stops to rest the horses and foot soldiers, and Regent Ogibth had to ration the water before they found the river Khell near sundown two weeks later. While everyone desperately wanted to stop and enjoy the abundant water, Regent Ogbith permitted only a watering of the animals before he demanded they press on. The river Khell disappeared into the dense Kord Forest to the south, and the Regent wanted a good mile between the caravan and the forest before they camped. He preferred the open fields they had traveled through, for they afforded high visibility in every direction. The forest could hide an entire army.

Given the composition of the caravan, Gen knew that the Regent’s decisions were for the best. The First Mother and Regent Ogbith had sent knights and soldiers to the shard months in advance to clear the way, and the advanced scouts had found nothing. Since over five hundred soldiers currently marched in the caravan, it was unlikely that they would unexpectedly encounter a force of threatening size along the way.

If anyone wanted to get to the Chalaine or the Ha’Ulrich, however, their best strategy would be to send a small, quick attack group to sneak or streak past the outer perimeter. Thus, Regent Ogbith kept to the open plains and short grass as much as possible, steering clear of even the smallest copse that obstructed the horizon.

As Gen waited for the sun to sink and bring another scorching day to a close, he still thought that the best plan to get the Chalaine to Elde Luri Mora over hundreds of miles was not in a lumbering caravan; it was with a small mobile group on fast horses. As it was, any enemy within miles could mark them easily by the dust thrown up from their passing, and besides being slow, if rain came, he feared the Chalaine’s heavy carriage would sink into the mud so deep it would be beyond hope of extraction.

Gen had proposed his plan to Regent Ogbith a month before they left, but the Regent rejected it, thinking they would arrive to find the road to Elde Luri Mora held against them despite the lack of evidence of enemies. Gen tried to explain that if the enemy blocked the way to Elde Luri Mora in numbers, five-hundred soldiers would be just as ineffective as five. The Regent had waved the idea off, grumbling about Gen being too young to understand.

The Regent’s plan had worked so far, however. Their eastward crawl across the plain proceeded without the slightest sign of menace or danger. Faces that had been twisted with worry two weeks before relaxed with every mile forward, and laughter echoed through the camp with increasing frequency. This was doubly true wherever Geoff went. The young bard’s infectious good mood and impeccable talent added flavor to the long, monotonous days.

The hurt and anxiety Gen had found in the First Mother faded as the weeks passed, and the Chalaine gained confidence in stride with her mother. Fenna was as bubbly as ever, though she was constantly with Geoff and brought him with her when she came to visit so he could record more of Gen’s life. Gen’s annoyance mounted with every visit from the exuberant bard. Whether Geoff’s continual inquisition about Gen’s past, his unrelenting flowery attitude, or his obvious feelings for Fenna, Gen didn’t know. Maybe it was the way Fenna smiled when Geoff doffed his hat to her and winked. But whatever it was, Geoff bothered Gen like a rock in his boot during a long march.

As Kord Forest faded behind, Gen sat up from his bed in the wagon, put his shirt on, and grabbed his sword. The carriage he and Jaron shared for a bed bounced around more than usual as the ground grew harder and more strewn with rocks washed down with the river. Gen hopped off the wagon and walked backward past half of the Dark Guard and their apprentices.

Volney saluted him while Kimdan scowled down at him from astride his spirited bay. Gen returned Volney’s salute and wished him well. The mess cart assigned to the Chalaine’s party was only a few wagons behind. Since they weren’t stopping until after dark, Cookmaster Broulin would have nothing hot in the pot tonight. Gen settled for raiding the sacks for bread and wrinkled apples, taking several ladles full of water before walking at a leisurely pace several yards away from the sweat of horses and the dust of wagons.

The low sun beat down against his neck, and the cool shadows of the Kord Forest beckoned to him in his memory. The wood had thick new growth along its edges, an excellent place to hide but a hard place to get out of quietly. Ahead of him, the land was still flat and featureless, though he knew it would turn hilly and finally mountainous once they joined up with the noisy Dunnach River.

Tactically, the passage along the river Dunnach presented a perilous and unwelcome challenge. To their right would run the swift, rocky river, roaring down toward Lake Mora. To their left would rise the steep slopes of the Far Reach Mountains, vast and not well known, even by Maewen, who had traveled them before the Shattering. She told Gen that the thickly wooded ravines and passes were too risky to be explored alone, and she usually traveled alone.

Their only other choice was to build a bridge across the Dunnach and go through several tricky mountain passes until they arrived at the abandoned fortress of Echo Hold and Echo Road, which connected to the Mora Road. Such a course was abandoned. There simply wasn’t time to build the bridge across the deep water due to the difficulty of transporting men and supplies.

Out of a habit he supposed belonged to Samian, Gen ate his entire apple, including the core, and spit the seeds upon the ground. The bread was tasteless and made him think of water again. He turned to jog back to the supply cart when he noticed Geoff and Fenna riding up the column in that general direction. Gen turned away, hoping they hadn’t seen him, but the beat of horse hooves behind him indicated he had not escaped their notice. Talking with Fenna and Geoff at the same time was like trying to woo a girl while her talkative, drunk father sat on the porch between you.

“Lord Blackshire! My good man!” Geoff greeted him enthusiastically. “We’re heading into dangerous territory now, aren’t we?”

Gen made sure his face was a cold expressionless mask before looking up at the handsome bard whose long blond hair flowed from underneath his smart, green cap—complete with feather—that seemed impervious to the wind and dust. Fenna rode on the other side of him, face flushed and happy. She greeted Gen with a smile and a wave.

“Yes,” Gen answered. “Miss Fairedale.” Gen bowed to Fenna. Geoff waited for more of an answer but got nothing.

“Well, I was just telling Fenna how anciently ships floated lazily down the Khell, sails burning in the dusk while lords and ladies, elves and men, danced on their festive decks. Those were the days to be a bard! Sure, they still do the same on Kingsblood Lake, but something about a river accompanying my voice sets an atmosphere and a tone that strikes the heart. Our companions will need a performance tonight, I’d wager, now that we’re headed into a great mountain range full of creatures and enemies unknown, mysterious, and dangerous! Can you feel the excitement, Gen? Lands unexplored for hundreds of years! New songs to write and sing! My blood quickens at the thought! I’m sure you feel it yourself, as you have the heart of a bard.”

“Actually,” Gen replied, “I can’t help but feel that every step brings us that much closer to disaster. The Far Reach Mountains are not the type of place to inspire a jaunty tune, Geoff.”

“You talk to Maewen too much,” Geoff replied. “She seems about as happy as you are about the whole prospect of seeing a land that was once so full of wonders. The Dunnach River Bridge, Gen! Can you imagine?”

Gen said, “Maybe she’s tense because she’s the only one in this caravan that’s traveled these lands extensively. Do you know what the place we’re walking on right now was called in the days of the First Mikkikian War?”

Geoff screwed up his face into a mask of concentration, snapping his fingers as if to coax forward the memory with the sound. Gen thought it was an act to cover up his complete ignorance of the topic.

“It’s just not coming to me at the moment.”

“This place was called Akrikuh Mikkik, or in the common tongue, Mikkik’s Fury. After Eldaloth was killed, Mikkik’s armies drove men, elves, and dwarves across this plain in a great slaughter, unleashing for the first time the foul creations he’d been breeding in preparation for many years. Near where we met up with the river is where the elven general Alemwei fell, head crushed by the club of a Gagon. Alemwei was a Mage-fighter more powerful than any single person in this caravan, and he died with one blow and was swept down a river tinted red with blood before the Uyumaak dragged his body to shore and ripped it apart. Those of his army unable to get across the river fought till death and were then eaten for dinner as part of a grand celebration.”

“Gen!” Fenna exclaimed, eyes aghast and hand over her mouth. Geoff’s face slowly drained of blood.

“So you see, Geoff,” he went on, “there is no thrill in every footstep forward for me. And there shouldn’t be for you either. If I listen to Maewen too much, you listen to her too little.”

“Yes, well,” Geoff said, working up as much levity and calmness as he could, “I see your point, but there is a ray of sunshine in every storm! I intend to find it and live every moment in it. We should be off, however. Fenna here is going to accompany me on a song I am singing around the fire tonight. She really has a lovely voice, you know.”

“I do,” Gen replied, flashing her a smile. Fenna blushed.

“Of course you do. You must also accompany me some time, Gen! Come Fenna. One more practice and we’re ready!” Geoff galloped off. Fenna held back for a moment and said, “I will see you later tonight, Gen! I promise!”

Gen waved. “Nice talking to you!” he said sarcastically, but he wasn’t sure if she heard as she rode away after Geoff.

Gen opened his clenched hand to find he had inadvertently crushed his bread into the size of a small egg while Geoff droned on. The upside was he was able to push the whole piece of bread into his mouth and finish it quickly. After he made a quick stop for more water, the sun finally sank behind the horizon and he went to find Jaron. To his dismay, Torbrand Khairn had fallen back to the Chalaine’s carriage and was talking with her day Protector. To make matters worse, Chertanne joined them as Gen strode up.

“You are going to have to ask Gen,” Jaron was saying, voice exasperated. “He’s on duty now.”

Jaron climbed down from on top of the carriage and inclined his head to Gen. Gen grabbed the bars and swung up to stand on the ledge at the rear of the wagon, awaiting a familiar conversation.

“Gen,” Chertanne called to him, voice dripping with concern. “We must insist that you let the Chalaine join us around the fire! You are torturing her by cooping her up in there.”

“I am well, Chertanne,” the Chalaine interjected through the bars. Gen knew very well that the Chalaine was not ‘well.’ The magical brand on his chest let him know that her head throbbed terribly. Days inside the thick wooden wagon were hot, miserable, and lonely. Gen sympathized with her but didn’t feel he could risk letting her out as the journey went deeper into dangerous territory.

“You want the Chalaine to come out and sit by a
fire
at night?” Gen chastised. “Have you completely forgotten the Three Willow Inn? Honestly, Lord Khairn, did you teach your boy nothing?”

Khairn’s eye twitched. Gen enjoyed baiting the Shadan almost as much as he enjoyed baiting Chertanne.

“Gen,” the Shadan said, controlling his anger, “we all know about the danger, but I would have to agree with Chertanne—and that is rare. We have the finest sword fighters in Ki’Hal in this camp, not to mention enough Mages and Church folk to burn down the entire country of Rhugoth. They’ve agreed to ward the camp strongly. The Chalaine isn’t going to be more safe inside this box than she is around the fire.”