Victim of Fate (19 page)

"Wizard, you said even a blind fool could
follow them; prove it."

"I’m no blind fool," Kar retorted.

Tristam opened his mouth but Namitus
interrupted him. "I’m probably part fool, at least. I can see where
the ground’s been torn up over there."

"Into the hills?" Tristam followed his words
by searching the ground where Namitus pointed. He saw the
frost-covered ground churned where the horses had entered the
foothills of the Northern Divide.

"Seems our enemy still has plans for the
princess," Kar said.

"Because they’re headed for the mountains?
This isn’t even near the secret entrance to the troll’s lair,"
Karthor said.

"Trolwerkz," Kar said, his voice dripping
with disdain. "It’ll be too soon if I ever step foot in there
again!"

"So why do you think Sarya wants Patrina?"
Karthor asked.

Kar frowned. "I don’t know why, but it seems
obvious enough. Why else would they go into the mountains?"

"The eastern reaches of the Northern Divide,"
Tristam muttered. He turned from staring at the distant mountains
to look at Kar. "Isn’t the entrance to the mines over this
way?"

"In ages past, but those were covered by
landslides," Kar said. "The lesser entrances that might still be
open would be in the mountains or on the northern side. They might
be taking her into there. I read that the dwarves had some tunnels
so long they were hundreds of miles in length."

"Let’s move; perhaps we can catch them up in
the hills," Tristam said. He spurred his horse into action and led
his companions after the jarl’s forces.

Their ride was short-lived. Less than half an
hour into the hills, they found a group of Kelgryn milling about,
some on their horses and some on the ground. Tristam flagged them
down as he approached, making certain his actions weren’t
threatening. Within moments, they were led to the jarl.

"Ah, Tristam and the Blades of Leander. Alto
said you’d be coming. Your timing is most ill-timed."

"Ill-timed?" Tristam frowned. "We set out
with Alto from Portland at the same time, but we were separated on
the way here. He made better time," Tristam said. "Is he here
now?"

"No, he’s as lost as my daughter is."

Tristam frowned. "Jarl, what’s going on?
We’ve heard rumors in Holgasford."

"The lad brought my daughter a unicorn! A
unicorn, by the saints!" Teorfyr said. He shook his head and
chuckled. "Winter’s his name. And I’ve seen him ride. Winter’s not
like a horse I’ve ever seen."

"He flies, we’ve heard," Tristam said.

"Yes, he does," the jarl said. "Come, you can
meet him."

"The unicorn is here?" Kar sputtered.

Teorfyr nodded. "And he’s acting up. Seems
downright angry."

"So where’s Patrina and Alto?" Karthor
asked.

The jarl sighed. "That’s the problem. Winter
came back when Trina had disappeared and Alto swore that the
unicorn wanted him to help get her back. He hopped on his back and
was off like an arrow from a bow. We followed as quick as we could,
but just this morning we came across Winter wandering through the
hills, acting lost and confused. Even for a horse, he seemed
off."

Kar grunted. "Take me to him."

Teorfyr nodded and led them through a pass
between the hills to where Winter was pacing back and forth.
Occasionally the unicorn would stop and paw at the ground or rear
up on his hind legs and kick his front legs into the air.

"This is Winter?" Karthor asked. "He’s
beautiful."

"That he is. Dirt doesn’t seem to stick to
him and that horn, I swear it’s been glowing in the shadows."

"It very well might," Kar muttered. He pushed
forward and walked past the men that stood watch around the small
pass where Winter kept returning to. He held up his hand to stop
the unicorn and opened his mouth to speak. Winter stomped his foot
hard and lowered his head to point his horn at Kar directly. An
unmistakable bluish white glow sprung from his horn. Winter scraped
the ground with a hoof again in warning.

"Father, step back," Karthor warned.

Kar frowned but backed up. "Discretion does
seem to be the better part of valor," he admitted.

Karthor stepped past him. "Winter, I know
nothing of your kind but I’m told you’re very smart. If you know
Alto and Patrina, they are our friends. We want to help them. Can
you help us find them?"

Winter snorted, but the unicorn lifted his
head up and stared at Karthor. At length he nodded, and then
flicked his head.

"What’s he doing? Has he got fleas or
something?" Namitus asked.

"He wants me to come closer," Karthor
whispered.

"You should be tracking, you’re the fool,"
Kar said.

Karthor frowned. "No, I think I’m safe."

"Famous last words," Tristam warned.

Karthor stepped forward and walked slowly
toward Winter. He came to a stop before the unicorn and waited,
staring at the magnificent creature. Winter returned the gaze and
then lowered his head. It wasn’t an act of submissiveness; it
brought his still glowing horn in contact with Karthor’s
forehead.

Karthor grunted and fell back, collapsing on
his back and kicking out with his arms and hands. He shook his head
and sat upright, and then held out his hand and cried out to his
friends who had started forward. "Hold, I’m not hurt. He wanted to
show me something."

"That he could knock you on your arse?" Kar
snapped. "I understand why no wizard’s published a proper discourse
on these beasts—they’re dangerous and irrational!"

"No," Karthor defended Winter. "No, he’s not.
He’s worried. More than worried, he’s scared."

"Scared of what? We didn’t bring any sausage
makers with us," Kar snapped.

"Father!" Karthor admonished the wizard.
"He’s worried about Trina and Alto. He showed me things, memories
of what he’s seen and more. I’m not sure what, really, but I think
it makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Kar snapped. "The ravings
of a mutant horse?"

"He doesn’t like you, either," Karthor said.
"You’re not trustworthy."

The wizard harrumphed while Namitus and
Tristam both chuckled.

"There’s a fissure down that pass where Alto
was taken. Trina was taken elsewhere; they were surprised while
riding across the plains."

"Taken by who, and where?" Tristam asked.

"Two men, one looks to be a wizard," Karthor
said. He shrugged. "He had a wand, at least."

"Probably a wizard," Kar admitted. Winter
used his hoof to draw a symbol in the ground, three interlocking
circles inside a fourth circle.

"I’ll be damned," Kar breathed. "That’s a
rune for sorcery."

"Sorcery? Is that bad?" Tristam demanded.

Kar waved his hand. "Sorcery, wizardry,
magic, or whatever you want to call it. It can apply to a great
many things. And no, by itself it means nothing, simply
information."

"Great, so we’ve got a unicorn that fancies
himself an artist," Namitus slipped in.

"Does he know where they went?" Tristam
asked, ignoring the rogue.

Karthor turned to look at Winter. "Do
you?"

Winter dug its hoof into the ground and
traced another figure, this one an arrow pointing north and
east.

"If he knows, why’s he still here?"

"He’s been bested twice by the wizard; he
needs help."

"Well, he’s found it," Tristam said. He
turned to Teorfyr and nodded. "Jarl, if you don’t mind, we’ll be
taking our leave and going after Alto and Trina."

"I do mind," Teorfyr said. "We’ll come with
you."

Tristam frowned. "We’re to ride hard; if you
or your men fall behind, we won’t hold up for them."

Teorfyr laughed. "I offer the same advice to
you. It’s of little matter; neither of us is likely to outrun
Winter!"

"How are you?" Patrina whispered after they’d
walked most of an hour through the white forest.

"Feet hurt and I can’t move my fingers," Alto
admitted. "Doing great other than that."

"Well, that’s good," Patrina said. When Alto
gave her a scowl, she added, "No, I mean about your feet. If they
hurt, that’s good; you can still feel them. Your boots might be
keeping them warm enough."

Alto grunted and then fell silent. Patrina
watched him as she walked, amazed that he could go on. The man had
run for days straight, pausing only when their captors had needed a
break. And the part that made the least sense to her was why they
were after him. Alto was just a farm boy. A lucky farm boy, at
that. He was handy with a sword and strong as a horse, but that was
it.

Or was it? He’d brought Winter to her.

Alto stumbled and threw his hands forward to
catch himself but his fingers jammed through the snow and into the
frozen ground. Patrina heard at least one of them crack before he
pitched over onto his side and struggled to rise up. She grabbed on
to him and helped him right himself in the snow.

"Get up, you oaf," Patrina hissed at him.

"Caught my foot on a branch," Alto mumbled as
he stood.

"Sure you did." Patrina looked at his hands
and bit her lip to keep from crying out. The middle finger on his
left hand was bent back at an impossible angle and his pointer
finger was bent off to the side looking just like his thumb. "Look
at me, farm boy."

Alto turned his head and glared at her. He
opened his mouth but before he could say anything, she grabbed his
hand and yanked his fingers back into position. Alto stopped trying
to talk and stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He looked down
and saw she held his cold hand between hers.

"Your hand is so cold," Patrina said.

"I felt something. What did you just do?"

Patrina felt the heat in her cheeks fighting
against the cold air. "You broke your fingers when you fell. I just
set them."

Alto pulled his hand free of hers and lifted
it up to look at it. A couple of his fingers twitched but the two
that she’d straightened remained straight. Alto frowned and raised
his eyes back to hers. Patrina felt something in her chest release
and it stole her breath.

Patrina grabbed his hand in hers again and
pulled it to her. She pressed her lips against his blackened and
frozen fingers. "I wish you could feel this," she whispered, her
warm breath lost on his numb skin.

"Um, me, too," Alto said.

"We’ll get this fixed," she promised.

"I’m not much use without my hands," he
said.

"I’ve seen men with injuries like this; they
find a way to get by," Patrina said. She forced a smile on her
face. "I know you, you’ll find a way."

"You’re wasting time!" Tyrus called out.

Patrina jerked her gaze away from Alto and
saw Garrick staring at her with his fierce blue eyes. She forced
her eyes to keep going until she saw Tyrus scowling at her.

"We’ve got most of another hour to go, less
if we throw him over one of those horses," Tyrus added.

"I can walk," Alto growled.

"Well then prove it!" Tyrus turned and
stomped off.

Patrina turned back to him and smiled. "I
think I know why one hand is worse than the other." She looked down
at his hand with the dirty ribbon wrapped around the wrist. "That
scrap of cloth was probably tied too tight; it cut the blood off
early. You should take it off."

Alto looked down at it and then back up at
Patrina. He smirked. "Can’t."

She felt her heart twist in her chest and she
fought the urge to snap at him. "Oh, okay, sorry I mentioned it,"
Patrina stumbled.

"I can’t use my fingers to untie it," Alto
said.

Patrina narrowed her eyes at his poorly-timed
joke. She’d offered him something and by making fun of her, he’d
spurned her. She should have expected as much; he was just a stupid
farm boy with a sword! She shook her head slowly and turned away.
"Come on, I don’t want to be left alone out here."

"Maybe you could help me later with it?" Alto
asked as he tried to catch up to her.

Patrina nearly stumbled in the snow at his
question. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. He was such a
bumbling oaf, all brawns and no brains! Or at least not smart
enough to know enough to stop crossing her at the wrong time. "Try
to keep up," she tossed over her shoulder at him. Maybe she’d help
him but he’d have to earn it.

The remainder of the hike was done in
silence. Patrina continued to check on Alto, fearing he might fall
again from the way he weaved back and forth. The injured warrior
managed the powdery snow without complaint.

Patrina smelled the wood smoke before she saw
the huts scattered amongst the evergreens. Tyrus led them through
the village, passing a primitive smithy and a hut where animal
skins were stretched out for tanning. People emerged and watched
them as they passed, and then followed behind them until they
stopped before a large hut with a fence made of stones and wooden
timbers.

"Wait here," Tyrus told them before he opened
the door and stepped through. He pulled it shut behind him and left
them to wait.

Patrina turned and saw Alto’s gaze was
focused on the hut before them. She imagined it belonged to the
chieftain. A healer wouldn’t have the largest hut in the village,
or at least not larger than the chief. She thought back to what
little she knew of the northern savages. Seldom did her people deal
with them, except on rare occasions when they came to trade. They
were simple and fierce. They prized hunting and feats of courage.
Alto, she knew, would do well among them if he had his hands.

She turned to stare at him. He remained
oblivious of her, focusing solely on the hut before him. She saw
Garrick watching her from behind Alto, but she forced herself to
ignore him. She’d beaten him but she feared it had been surprise
and luck. In a real fight, his size and strength would destroy her.
She might wound him or maybe even kill him, but not before the
barbarian crushed her.