The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (15 page)

              Looking ahead, the road seemed to go on seemingly forever into the still distant mountains.  In the distance, they looked the teeth of a serrated knife and an impossible distance.  Captain Krall had given him no indication as to how long his route may take him; but looking towards the mountains as they curved off into the east, he wondered if he might make it to Kallesh before the new moon.  It just seemed so far away.  Still, he kept a steady pace.

              It was a particularly warm, but not quite hot afternoon.  He could feel the sweat begin to soak his back under his pack.  He unbuttoned his shirt and felt cool air against his chest.  His legs and feet also began to sweat and, at the time it seemed impossible for it to ever get as cold as he had been warned.  He’d never been to the mountains but had heard many stories.  His father had told him of a cruel and biting cold, worse than any winter he’d known in his hills.  He heard of snowstorms that lasted for days, penetrating winds and thin air that made each breath a labor.

              He’d heard of a place so inhospitable that each step was like climbing a mountain.  His father had told him of people’s fingers and toes turning black from the cold; even falling off completely.  Surely these were stories, he thought to himself.  He hoped they were only stories. 

When the sun began to set behind him, the air began to cool and feel more comfortable.  He found himself thinking that perhaps he could go on through the night, but his back and shoulders told him otherwise.  As it began to grow darker, he looked around for some shelter but could find none.  There were rocks and crags near the road, but no caves he could see.  He didn’t want to camp in the open, but also didn’t want to continue in the dark where it would become more likely that he might lose the road.

Suddenly he heard a voice that seemed to be all around him at the same time.

“Don’t worry.” It said and then he had the feeling that, wherever he stopped, someone or something would keep him safe.  He stopped and sat down close to the road; which he could only just see in the gathering darkness.  He ate the rest of the piece of hard tack, and then lay down, resting his head on his pack.

             
The sky above him was clear and packed with stars.  He heard crickets chirping and other animals he wasn’t sure of making other noises.  Staring into the pockmarked sky, he saw a shooting star, like the one he’d seen just outside of Kallesh and it seemed to tell him the same message.  Everything was going to be alright.  This feeling again coursed through him like a warm wave.

              As he slept, he dreamed again.  It wasn’t as clear as the dream of the General with the axe, but felt just as real.  In a grey haze, he thought he could see the entrance to a cave or a mine; he wasn’t sure.  A shadow was near the cave and it seemed to be pointing to it.  Then from out of the dream, he heard a soft whisper of a voice.

“Wake up.” It said.

             
He awoke with a start and saw that the dawn’s light was beginning to break through the darkness.  This time, he ate a whole piece of hard tack and another apple.  He knew he would need the extra energy to get started.  His back and shoulders were hurting from the day before, but he still slung the pack over his shoulders and continued on.  “Wherever I’m going,” he said to himself, “I’m one day closer.

              On the second day the road began to become more difficult.  It climbed more and the rocks under his feet began to become sharper.  The road wound up and around steeper hills.  Kenner thought for a moment that it might save time to simply climb straight up these hills as he did in his own country.  However, he kept on the path, remembering what Captain Krall had told him.  The second day was even warmer than the first and the sweat on him began to feel cold.  He found himself thirstier and drank more water.  Even though he was still worried about running out, he thought that surely there must be water to be found somewhere.  As the day got older, he had gone through his first canteen and was halfway through the second.

              The road wound its way up a particularly steep hill and when he got to the top, he found an abandoned dwelling.  It looked like, possibly an abandoned house.  The walls were long gone.  Only a few wooden posts and the remainder of a stone fireplace remained.  Further examining the remains, he found, what looked like a well and ran to it.  It was a well.  The bucket for collecting water was long gone, but the rope remained.  He tied the rope to his canteens and lowered them both down.  To his relief, he was able to fill them both.

              The roof of the old house had collapsed and the way it lay on the ground seemed to make a small shelter.  He climbed underneath to see if he could fit and was satisfied.  He ate some more and then rested himself under the fallen roof.  The second day was over without incident.

              Again, he had the same dream only this time, the images were sharper, more real.  The rock around the cave or mine was light grey, almost white with a nearly square opening.  The dark shape was more in focus and looked more like the shadow he was familiar with.  Once more, it was pointing to the opening.

              The same voice woke him the next morning.  It was more light this time as he’d slept longer.  He felt a little more rested and hurt less.  Still, he was sore and tired.  He contemplated simply not going anywhere that day and resting; but reminded himself that he needed to travel as fast as he could.  He didn’t have time to rest an entire day, he reasoned, even though his body seemed to want to.

              On the third day, the road had begun to become even more difficult.  Even though curving around hills, it was steep and his footing was unsure.  The rocks on the road were loose and slippery and more than once, he’d nearly fallen.  The air was getting thin and he found it harder to breath.  As such, he found himself needing to rest more and drink more water.  On this day, he emptied both his canteens.  A steady and cold wind began to blow.  As the sun set, the wind became harder and, for the first time, he wrapped one of the furs around him.

              He found, what looked like the entrance to a cave as the darkness fell, but it was too small for him to climb all the way in.  It was just big enough for him to lie in and wrap himself with the fur, but the pack wouldn’t fit as well.  That night, he hardly slept at all as it he felt as if nearly freezing, despite the thick fur.  The wind swept around him and through him and for the first time, he began to think that, perhaps he wouldn’t be able to accomplish his mission.

              Perhaps, he thought this was too much, too difficult.  Perhaps he should turn around and return to his hills.  But, he reminded himself that he’d promised he would do it.  Captain Krall, he thought was a good and honorable man and he’d made a promise to him.

              As he barely slept, he did not dream and the next morning, he needed no voice to rouse him.  The pack seemed twice as heavy and he barely managed to get it over his shoulders.  Marching along as best as he could, he found that each step was becoming more difficult.  And now, he had no water to quench his thirst.  His throat and mouth began to burn and each breath of dry air seemed to cut into his chest.  Turning a corner, he saw the road lead up a hill so steep; it looked like a sheer cliff.  Upon seeing this, his tired and thirsty body told him that he could not do it.  It was impossible.  Then he heard a voice tell him, “Nothing’s impossible.  Some things are just a lot more difficult.”  It was his father words; but not his father’s voice.  It was the same voice he’d heard the two mornings in a row.  Who are you, he asked?

              Step by step and seemingly inch by inch, he followed the road up the steep hill.  He breathed hard and heavy and each step felt as his legs were lifting his body over dozens of hills at once.

“Just get to the top of the hill.” He told himself.  At one point, his feet slipped and he nearly fell to the ground.  But he caught himself.  He grit his teeth and summoned up all his strength.  He willed himself step by step up the hill, but was disheartened when he reached, what he thought was the top.  Instead the road went on further and was even steeper still.

“Who the hell built this road?” He cried out.

              He nearly collapsed when he saw the road ahead of him and felt like crying.  Would the rest of the road be like this?  If so, he thought he couldn’t do it.  “I’m just not strong enough.”  Holding back anger and tears, he then heard a welcoming sound.  It was water running, like from a stream.  The sound was coming from the top of the hill and he pulled himself together.  He was in pain and his legs felt as if they could carry him no more.  His throat burned and his chapped lips felt as though they were on fire.  Still he made himself climb the hill. 

              Every step was like a full day’s running, but he made himself do it.  At one point near the top, he was on his hands and knees, crawling like a small child, but he did make it to the top.  There he saw from where the sound was coming.  There was a small stream flowing down from an even higher hill and at the bottom was a pool of water so clear it looked like glass.  And on the opposite side of the pool, he saw an even more encouraging sight.  Drinking from the pool was a giant battle cat.

              Feeling elated, he called out.  “Shela!”

The cat looked up…but it wasn’t Shela.

             
As it raised its head, he could see a white spot over the cat’s left eye and its right ear looked like it had been chewed.  When the cat looked up, Kenner could tell that it had seen him.  Its eyes narrowed on him and it crouched down as if it were about to pounce.  It crept along the edge of the pool and its ears went back.  Kenner felt like he should run, but his body was too exhausted to move.  He tried to get up, but he lost his footing and fell down to the edge of the pool.

“Oh crap!” He exclaimed.

             
The giant cat moved closer, growling.  Its mouth opened showing its huge, white and sharp teeth.  It growled again and looked as if it just about to pounce when another battle cat jumped from seemingly out of nowhere.  It rammed the other cat and roared.  When it turned its head to Kenner, he could tell that this was Shela.  She then chased the other cat away and began drinking from the pool herself.

              With great effort, Kenner crawled to the pool and began to drink like an animal.  The burning in his throat and mouth eased and he felt more energy; even enough to pull himself to a seated position.  As he did, he noticed Shela was gone.  He looked around and saw no sign of her.  Sitting on the hard ground, he panted for breath and then found himself saying, “Thanks again old girl.”

Chapter Nineteen

             
Kenner found a small cave next to the pool and made himself as comfortable as possible.  He built a small fire with the wood he had packed from the hide and ate.  He was starting to run low on food, he noticed.  He only had two pieces of hard tack and one apple.  And he was still, he thought very far from his goal.  He thought further that it was obvious that for some time he’d have to go without food; but for how long he had no idea.  The thought of turning around and going home was still in his mind; but even if he did, the road back would not be easier.  It was just as difficult and dangerous to go back as to go forward.

              He could hear the wind howling outside the cave and sometimes it would blow in.  At one moment, it almost extinguished his little fire; which, even with the thick furs was only giving him a mere sensation of warmth.  He began to understand what his father had meant of the biting cold and thin air.  He found himself wishing that none of what happened had ever happened.  He began to wish that he had died along with his cousins or the other soldiers from the fort.

              He slept better than he had, but awoke to a disturbing sight.  Peeking out of the cave, he saw that it had snowed the night before.  More than that, the snow had completely covered the road.  He could not see any hint of it under the white carpet.  He climbed to the top of a rock to try and see any evidence of it; but it had completely disappeared.  It was gone and now, in addition to running out of food, he was lost.

              The mountains were all around him with nothing indicating any direction.  The sun was above the mountain peaks, but he couldn’t tell if it were to the east of west.  He didn’t know how long he had slept; whether it was morning or afternoon.  He looked around desperately for some sign of the road but saw nothing.  Now, he could neither go forward nor back and he felt ready to simply give in and die.

              But then he saw something in the distance.  Standing on top of a rock, just barely close enough for him to see was a shadowy figure; looking like a person wearing a hooded cloak.  The wind blew around this figure, causing the cloak to billow and wave like a flag.