Voyage of the Fox Rider (84 page)

Aravan kissed her fingers. “Thou hast only to name it,
chieran
.”

“You must sail the
Eroean
to Darda Glain and evacuate the Hidden Ones.”

Aravan’s eyes widened. “But I would not leave thee,” he protested.

“Love, you must go. No other ship is swift enough to get there in the little time we have left.”

“Dost thou know how much time remains?”

Tiredly, Aylis ran a hand through her silver-shot tresses. “If Durlok keeps his vow, perhaps we have five days and a bit—not quite six.”

“Then come with me,
chieran
.”

“I cannot. I am needed here.”

Aravan looked long into her eyes. Above, the silent stars shown down upon the heartrent lovers. At last Aravan took her in his arms and gently kissed her. And he whispered, “I will come back for thee.”

Tears slid down Aylis’s cheeks as Aravan turned and strode to where the others waited. After a few words, Jinnarin came running to Aylis. “We will return, sister of mine.” Then the Pysk ran to Jatu, and the big black Man lifted her into his cast-back cloak hood. All waved to Aylis, and she to them, then they turned on their heels and strode toward the garden gate.

And the world trembled once more.

As the comrades came down to the docks, they noted a small number of frightened Men and Women sitting on the quay, waiting to set sail. These passengers knew not what danger threatened; they only sensed that something dire was afoot. And the trembling isle to them seemed disastrously unsafe, whereas a ship could weather any storm—or so they thought. And so they sat quietly and waited to board the given ships upon which they had purchased passage.

And as Aravan and company strode across the quay, another tremor juddered the land. Sensing their parents’ alarm, children clutched fathers and mothers and wept in fear.

Aravan with Farrix, Jatu with Jinnarin, and Bokar finally came to where the
Eroean
was docked. They found the gangway hauled aboard and the warband standing
guard along the railing. As they approached, Kelek called out and the ladder was lowered. A Man bearing a sleeping child stepped before Aravan. “Are you setting sail now? If so, I would book passage, though I have no money. I am a good worker.”

Aravan looked into his pleading eyes. “Nay, we but go to another part of Rwn. If thou and thy daughter would set sail away from this isle, here is enough to pay thy way.” Aravan took a small pouch from his cloak, coins clinking within, and pressed it into the Man’s hand. Aravan turned and pointed. “That ship yon is even now loading.”

“Oh sir, I don’t know—”

Aravan held out a hand to stop the Man’s words. “Repay me by doing well unto others.” He glanced at the far-docked schooner. “Go now; thou must hurry.”

As the Man hastened away, the child awakened. “Oh, Father, a little person.” she called out, but he did not turn to see.

Aravan looked at his comrades. “If we take strangers to Darda Glain, we will never get the Hidden Ones aboard. Yet how can I refuse them?”

“Captain,” rumbled Jatu. “Our first loyalty is to the Hidden Ones. If we have room after they board, then perhaps we will discover a way to take on others as well.”

Aravan gave a sharp nod, agreeing, then said. “Let us away.”

As the comrades boarded the
Eroean
, again the island quaked.

Running against the morning tide, the Elvenship sailed away from Kairn, with her silks unfurled full. Due south she ran, bells ringing in her wake, the wind on the starboard beam, and now and again the ship would shake in the juddering of the sea. As dawn began to pale the skies, Aravan stood on deck with Jinnarin and Farrix. He pointed to the heavens where rode a quarter Moon above. “Ye can see four of the five wanderers: the red one nigh the zenith, ‘tis named
Reier
by the Lian, Red Warrior in Common; next to the Moon is
Veorht Iian
, Bright Voyager; ‘tween the Moon and the eastern horizon lies
Cianin Andelé
, Shining Nomad; and below,
down on the rim of the world is
Wifan Aun
, Swift One. The fifth wanderer,
Rul Pex
, Slow Foot, will not rise until shortly after the Sun, hence cannot be seen until the coming of the eventide when the Sun has set, and then for but a brief while.”

Farrix pointed a finger at the sky and counted off, “In the order you named each wanderer, we instead call them Red Vixen, Snow Bear, Bright Lady, Sun Rider, and Traveller.”

Jinnarin looked at them all, running from high above in what seemed to be a line down to the eastern horizon. Then her eye swept back to the crescent quarter Moon, and a cold shiver ran over her frame. His arm about her, Farrix looked at Jinnarin and asked, “What is it, love?”

Jinnarin sighed. “That such splendor could be twisted for evil…it speaks of a vile mind.”

“I know,” replied Farrix softly, and together they stood on deck and watched the dawn brighten until at last the Suñ rose. And when it was full above the horizon and day was on the deeps, no longer could the wanderers be seen, though the waning Moon yet rode the sky above, the silver crescent steadily edging toward the Sun.

Due south they ran until early morn, the wind on the starboard, Rwn on the larboard, until at last they rounded a broad peninsula outthrust well into the sea, where they swung east-southeast. And with a following wind blowing on the starboard aft, they headed for the great outjut of land on which lay Darda Glain. Aravan was heading for a long bight of sea that reached deep into the ancient forest, falling short of the center by only ten miles. Both Farrix and Jinnarin had assured him that ships could sail into the firth without fear of attack, just as long as they did not put ashore. They would, however, be well watched, for eyes of the Hidden Ones would be upon them from the moment they entered the bay.

It was high noon when they sailed past the mouth of the long inlet, and the ship swung to the east-northeast to follow the bight inward. Aravan had all hands piped on deck. “I would have the Hidden Ones see ye so that they will know who comes calling. Leave thy armor and weapons below so they will know we come not in War.”

Bokar arranged the Châkka so that half stood along the starboard rail and half on the one to the larboard. Somehow without their crossbows and axes and warhammers and shields and without their armor and flaring steel helms, they looked like nothing more than crafters and merchants…or so Jinnarin surmised. And on the part of the Men, Jatu placed his unarmed sailors up the ratlines and along the yards in the crow’s nests as well, so that they bedecked the ship as if it were on parade. And down the center of the fifteen mile long firth they sailed, the
Eroean
running at eight knots, her cerulean silks belling in the aft quartering wind, while the silent forest watched to left and right no more than a mile either way.

The Sun had progressed one third part down from the zenith when the
Eroean
at last came to the wide root of the firth, where she dropped anchor.

“Stand by to lower a single gig,” called Aravan.

The Elf looked down at the Pysks and fox. “Ready?”

They nodded, Jinnarin adding, “And eager, too!”

Bokar turned to Aravan and gritted, “Captain, I mis-like this idea of you going ashore alone. Darda Glain is closed to outsiders. What if you are attacked by the Hidden Ones? Little good will my warriors be with you there and we here.”

“He’s not going alone, Bokar,” said Farrix, waving a hand toward Jinnarin and Rux. “We will be with him.”

“And as to attacks,” put in Jinnarin, somewhat miffed, “he wears his stone and all will know him as a Friend. We’re not bloodthirsty savages, you know. Besides, I thought we discussed this and you were in agreement.”

Bokar growled, but said no more.

“Ready with the gig, Cap’n!” called Slane.

Elf, Pysks, and fox stepped across the deck, where Jinnarin was lifted into the boat by Jatu, Farrix after, and Rux leapt in at Jinnarin’s command. Aravan stepped aboard, and the gig was swung out on the davits. “Lower away,” rumbled Jatu.

Even as the keel of the gig scraped sand, the island shook with a tremor, the leaves of nearby forest trees rustling as if in protest. Jinnarin said, “We will be back as soon as we can, Aravan. There’s much ground to
cover, and many to warn. I am just hoping that most will respond, for I think something…dreadful…lies but five days away.”

Aravan glanced at the Sun. “‘Tis early afternoon of the seventh. Try to be back by sundown of the tenth, bringing all with you who will come. I would be at sea early morn of the eleventh to make a run back to Kairn.”

Jinnarin and Farrix canted their heads in agreement. Then they both mounted Rux, Farrix behind his mate, and at a command from Jinnarin the fox leapt over the side and darted across the shingle of sand and into the dark forest beyond.

“Fare ye well,” called Aravan after, but he doubted the Pysks had heard.

And the island shivered again.

Gradually the time eked toward the tenth, when the Hidden Ones were due on board, for Aravan hoped to set sail the day after—on August eleventh. And as time crawled by, the waning crescent Moon, now fingernail thin, crept closer to the Sun, while at the same time the tremors worsened. Aravan and the crew entire paced the deck of the
Eroean
and fretted, for they’d had no word from the Hidden Ones and neither Jinnarin nor Farrix had returned. And gradually the breeze blowing up the firth dwindled, dwindled, diminished, until on the tenth of August at mid of day the wind died altogether and nought but a hot summer stillness lay over the forest and across the bight. And the Moon would kiss the Sun in but a two-day.