As the two disappeared once more into the trees, the man carrying his dreadful burden, Marna turned back to the rider. Increasingly bewildered by what was happening, she asked again, ‘Who are you?’
‘More importantly, who are you?’ Aaren asked her. ‘And what are you doing in the woods at dawn with a large travelling pack, when there’s a perfectly good road along the bottom of the valley?’
Marna considered a variety of answers, then forced herself to ask another question. ‘Are you with Nilsson?’
Aaren and the rider exchanged glances. ‘No,’ the rider replied after a pause.
‘But you’re from the same country,’ Marna said, an inadvertent note of accusation in her voice. ‘You speak the same way as he does.’
‘That’s nearly true,’ the rider acknowledged. ‘And that’s why we’re here. But we’re not with him, believe me. Now tell me why you’re here. It’s important. We don’t want to stay here too long, it’s dangerous for us.’
Marna looked from him to Aaren standing beside her. Aaren nodded encouragingly. She took the chance. ‘I was trying to get to the capital to tell the king about what was happening here. About Nilsson, and Rannick and… everything.’
The rider nodded. Though his face revealed little, Marna felt his approval in this acknowledgement. ‘I’d like you to come with us,’ he said. ‘We’ve a camp higher up, and we could use your help.’
‘I… I don’t know,’ Marna stammered. ‘I don’t know who you are or…’ Her voice tailed off.
The rider looked at her thoughtfully, then he bent forward and spoke in a kindly voice. ‘You’re right to be uncertain,’ he said. ‘Especially after what’s just hap-pened to you.’ He pointed south. ‘That’s the way you need to go to get out of the valley. It won’t be easy to reach the capital. Your… Rannick… has done a great deal of harm hereabouts and there are a great many unpleasant people gravitating to this place as a consequence. You might be able to make it, judging by how you’ve handled yourself here. But it won’t be easy.’ He paused. ‘The choice is yours. We need your help here, but if you want to go on, we’ll give you what advice we can, and we’ve got messages of our own that we’d like you to carry to the king for us.’
Marna barely registered the reference to the king. The encounter with the two men had shaken her profoundly, and the hint about conditions beyond the valley that she had just been given had a truthful and unwelcome ring about it. She turned to Aaren, but this time the woman’s face was expressionless. ‘Your choice,’ it said.
The journey ahead unfolded before her, as she had so often studied it, though now the uncertainties that had hovered about it had doubled and trebled and they had an all too real vividness about them. And these people intrigued her. There was something disturbing… frightening even… about their quiet, purposeful intensity, and their seeming indifference to what had happened. And they were from Nilsson’s country, without a doubt. Yet…?
If they’d wanted to kill her they’d have done it by now; she had no idea how she had finished up helpless on the ground after she had attacked Aaren, but she knew that she could have done nothing to prevent it.
Then her practical nature advised her that she could always sneak away from them later if need be. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
‘Good,’ the rider said. ‘I’m glad. There’s a great deal we need to know about this place and what’s been happening here. Give Aaren your pack and mount up behind me.’
As Aaren cupped her hands to help her on to the horse, Marna noticed that the tip of one of her fingers was missing. It was another small question to add to those that were still tumbling around her head.
‘What about your friends?’ she asked, as she wrig-gled herself comfortable.
‘They’ll follow us,’ the rider replied. ‘And they’ll hide our tracks. Don’t worry.’
Marna raised her eyebrows in surprise. It had never occurred to her to consider hiding her tracks.
A little while later, after a silent and predominantly uphill journey, Marna found herself in the strangers’ camp. To her, it seemed that they came upon it very suddenly, and it was only when she looked around that she realized how simply and yet how cunningly it had been hidden by the careful positioning of a few branches.
The rider introduced himself. ‘I’m Engir,’ he said. ‘This is Aaren. The others are Levrik and Yehna.’ He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
‘Marna,’ came an awkward reply.
Engir smiled and motioned her towards a grassy bank. ‘Do you want anything to eat, Marna?’
Marna shook her head. ‘I’m thirsty, though,’ she said, taking the water bottle from her pack.
‘Eat,’ Aaren ordered, when Marna had finished drinking. An apple was thrust into her hand. ‘You’ll need it, you left most of your breakfast back there.’
Marna looked at the apple for a moment, her stom-ach rumbling, before hesitantly biting into it. Only then did she realize that she had not eaten since some time before Nilsson had made his fateful visit the previous day. She finished it noisily.
As she ate, Aaren and Engir talked, in their own language. Marna listened unashamedly, though she could understand nothing of what was said. There was a sonorous beauty about their speech that enthralled her, however. Could these people really be from the same country as Nilsson and his men?
‘Why are you here?’ she asked abruptly, interrupting them.
‘There’s a little stream just over there,’ Aaren said, ignoring the question, and pointing. Go and clean yourself up, you look a mess.’
Slightly affronted, Marna did as she was bidden. It took her some time to wash all the blood from her hands in the cold water and she was shivering when she returned to sit on the grassy embankment. She looked at her new companions. Both of them were lying idly on the sunlit grass as though they were on some leisurely picnic. It appeared, however, that they were simply waiting for the return of their companions, for as Levrik and Yehna arrived, Marna found herself the focus of their attention. ‘Tell us about Nilsson, Marna,’ Engir asked, smiling. ‘And this… Rannick… person we’ve been hearing about.’
Marna would rather they had told her about them-selves first, but she could not but respond to this pleasant albeit determined asking. A little self-consciously at first, she told them what had happened since the arrival of Nilsson and his men on Dalmas Morrow. Even as she spoke, she found it hard to imagine that so much had occurred in so short a time. She also found her listeners almost disconcertingly attentive. They sat still and silent throughout, only interrupting on those occasions when she knew herself that she was repeating herself or rambling.
The atmosphere in the small camp changed as she spoke, however, becoming noticeably more uneasy particularly as she spoke about Rannick and his strange metamorphosis. And when she concluded with the details of her own decision to flee the valley, the unease became open concern.
Engir put his hand to his forehead, while the two women both spoke at once, in their own language. Levrik leaned back on the grass, but Marna could feel a tension in him.
After a moment Engir spoke to the two women and nodded towards Marna. Yehna protested a little, but Engir replied, ‘No. Speak her language. If we’re going to ask her to trust us, then we’ll have to trust her.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Marna asked, concerned by this sudden agitation.
‘Will this Rannick come looking for you?’ Engir asked.
Marna did not get an opportunity to reply. ‘We must assume he will, no matter what she thinks, and act accordingly,’ Levrik said.
Engir nodded. ‘You’re right, of course. Yehna, put on her boots, get back to where we found her and lay a false trail. Don’t take too long, just…’ He shrugged. ‘… take it up towards that escarpment we passed and lose it in the rocks. We’ll move up to the lookout we set up yesterday.’
Swept along, rather than agreeing with this idea, Marna found herself exchanging boots with Yehna and, despite Engir’s earlier request, surrounded by the native language of these mysterious travellers. Then Yehna was gone, and Marna was left walking with the others to some unknown destination and peering down at her temporary new boots. They were rather small for her and squashed her toes, but she could walk well enough. In fact she was not a little pleased to be wearing such fine boots. For they were indeed of a remarkable quality and beautifully made.