10th of For-Summer
I hope Olret’s holding his own,” Ryshad muttered.
“He’s certainly giving Ilkehan something to worry about, by the looks of it,” I commented.
We lay side by side, peering through the grass topping the dune closest to the sprawling village below Ilkehan’s stronghold. The keep itself stood aloof on a rise in the ground, highest point for some distance in any direction, every approach cleared of cover for an advancing army. That didn’t matter, I told myself firmly; we weren’t an army.
“As long as those are reinforcements because it’s going badly for Ilkehan, not additional troops to help him carry his victory on into Rettasekke.” Ryshad kept his spyglass steady.
A metal-barred, solid wooden double gate was opening and a column of black-liveried men marched out with the mindless discipline that Ilkehan terrified into his people. All were armed to the teeth and beyond. The pervasive lack of wood and metals in these islands wasn’t inconveniencing Ilkehan to any noticeable degree. “How many’s that gone today?”
“Close on a cohort.” Ryshad’s satisfaction reassured me. “All the fewer for us to trip over.”
I dug myself lower into the sand. The coolness below the top layer was welcome after a long hot day crouched beneath the merciless sun now finally sinking to the horizon. “Still, at least we weren’t hiking through the desolate heart of the interminable island any more, walking from first light and all through the uncanny dusk, slipping past isolated settlements dotted among the barren hills, taking infuriating detours to avoid the desperate-looking bands that gave the lie to Ilkehan’s boast that his lands gave no exiles a refuge. I licked dry lips and wished for some water but we’d emptied our bottles a while back. ”How much longer do we wait?”
“We’ll let that lot get clear first, shall we?” Ryshad’s eyes shone dark in his blue-tinted face, bristles adding their own shadow to the overall Eldritch effect.
The column marched down to the harbour, cowed villagers ducking their heads before those most thickly studded with signs of rank. I wondered idly what earned these bullies their studs. One for each killing? One for every innocent tortured? “Can you see any gorgets?”
Ryshad brought his spyglass to bear. “One at the front, silver. Another at the back, silver.”
“Two less enchanters to worry about.” That was something at least.
“As long as Ilkehan doesn’t decide to lead his men into battle for a change.” Ryshad watched through the spyglass as the column waited for boats to ferry them out to larger ships anchored in the deep water of the inlet that bit into the coast just here. “I wouldn’t fancy trying get to him through that lot. How many adepts you think he had to start with? How long does it take to train them?”
“He can’t have had that many, surely?” I was looking for reassurance. “And it’s not the number that counts, it’s their strength with Artifice.”
“We haven’t seen any golden gorgets.” Ryshad took the glass from his eye to smile encouragement at me. “Guinalle seemed to think he’d sent his best to Suthyfer.”
“Let’s hope she’s right.” I stifled a groan of frustration. “I wish we could just get on with it.”
“You sound like ’Gren.” Ryshad returned to looking through his spyglass. “Why don’t you go and keep watch with Shiv?”
“You’re trying to get rid of me,” I accused.
“That’s right.” A fond smile took the edge off his words but he didn’t take his eye off the distant keep. “You’re distracting me. Go and talk to Shiv.”
I scurried backwards down the dune. We’d found this hollow with considerable relief after a tense night of sneaking along this shoreline but I’d be very glad to leave it just as soon as Ryshad and Sorgrad decided we’d learned all we could by watching and agreed it was time to act. All this waiting just gave me time to consider all the things that could go wrong with this plan and wound ’Gren up to an ever more dangerous pitch of frustration.
I crept carefully up the banked sand to where Shiv lay, chin on hands, eyes alert.
Inland, the shifting dunes yielded to more solid land where dark green spiny bushes dotted with yellow flowers clumped together. Dry and gritty with windblown sand, the land rose and fell in shallow swells, mimicking the ocean. A few spotted brown birds foraged for whatever might come wriggling up now that evening was drawing near.
“Any sign of them?” I whispered.
“No.” Shiv was as relaxed as if he lay by his own fireside.
“We’d have heard something, if they’d been taken.” I was starting to tire of hearing my own doubts.
“Screaming, at very least.” A smile quirked at the corner of Shiv’s mouth. ’Gren’s spoiling for a fight.”
“The trick is making sure he takes on the one you want.” I frowned. “Is that them?”
Shiv raised himself on his elbows. “I think so.” Tense, we watched the brothers dart between the spiny green bushes. It was a long run to our hidden hollow from the rise they’d just scrambled over.
“I could cloak them with invisibility,” muttered Shiv, less a suggestion than a comment on the powers we dare not let him use.
I tried to work out if the brothers could see the boat sheds along the shore where the dunes gave way to a stream and hillocks beyond it. If they could, they could be seen in turn.
“Here they come.” Shiv stiffened like a cat undecided whether to pounce or to run. Sorgrad and ’Gren ran across the hostile expanse, scattering the brown birds. I cringed at the thought that someone might hear the squawks of indignation. Sorgrad and ’Gren ran on, barely slowing even in the softer sands of the dunes, throwing themselves past us into hiding.
I spat sand out of my mouth. “Were you seen?”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
’Gren had his hand on his sword hilt, eager face turned towards the unseen boat sheds.
Sorgrad tossed me a few damp and grubby roots. “There’s something to chew on if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks,” I said without enthusiasm.
Ryshad turned to see what Sorgrad had brought. “Burdock?”
He nodded. “Some sedge as well.”
Between them, Ryshad and Sorgrad had kept our bellies full on the journey through the inhospitable island. With each showing increasing appreciation of the other’s foraging skills, I kept my own counsel when faced with food only the truly starving could fully appreciate. I just hoped we got home to some real meals before I wore my teeth down to the gums.
Sorgrad was already lying next to Ryshad. “Any sign of our friend?”
“Nothing so far,” Ryshad said in a low tone.
’Gren blinked and I shivered involuntarily. He looked curiously at me. ”Maewelin’s touch got you?”
“It’s your eyes.” I shivered again, icy fingers still stroking my neck. “Aiten’s eyes turned to black pits when Ilkehan’s Artifice enslaved him.” That was why I’d had to kill Aiten, Ryshad’s long-time friend. Drianon save me from having to make that choice for any of these four.
“Let’s not go borrowing trouble.” Sorgrad looked severely at us both. “Concentrate on the task in hand and worry about other things when they happen.”
“If they happen,” added Ryshad with emphasis. “Did you find the hargeard?”
Sorgrad nodded. “It’s a fair hike, over beyond that second rise with all the berry bushes.”
“It’s enormous,” chuckled ’Gren.
“Folk seeing we’re destroying it won’t be a problem,” frowned Sorgrad. “Getting away will be the difficult trick. There’s—”
Ryshad tensed. “The sentries are changing.”
“That’s the way in?” Sorgrad brushed sand from his breeches, nodding at a lesser gate cut in the wall.
“What’s on the other side?”
’Gren slid his sword a little way out of its sheath, face eager. A wise woman once told him he was born to be hanged, so he always reckoned to come unscathed through any situation not actively involving rope.
“A garden. We’ll be going in to the actual keep through a drain.” I swallowed hard on a sudden worry that the cover might be hidden, that I might not be able to find it again, that we might end up trapped like rats in Ilkehan’s sewer.