Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

The Mother’s voice pulled him on until he reached a lowlander’s road. It shone pale in the moonlight and he paused at the edge of it as if it were a swift river that would carry him away if he stepped too carelessly into it. His witch marks tingled and itched again and his eyes closed, but his feet moved. He let them, trusting in Mother Shek’met, whose pale, comforting face looked down on him from the clear night sky. Her light was like cool springwater, soothing his aching legs and parched lips.

He walked on the road for a long time, the dusty packed earth strange under his feet. No deer had walked here, only horses, and their marks gave him nothing. He walked until something hard pressed into the arch of his foot, making him stumble.

He stooped down, surprised by the glint of gold in the hoofprint he’d just stepped in. It was a ring. He’d seen such ornaments on the hands of lowlanders before. This one was damaged, bent in on itself and flattened.

Perhaps a horse stepped on it , he thought. As he turned the bit of metal over in his hand, he saw that part of it was made to look like a bird.

Lhel appeared ahead of him in the road, waving for him to follow. Hurry , she whispered on the night breeze. Hurry, or you will be too late .

In the distance the road divided like a river around a rock. One way went along the cliffs to the east. The other way was narrower, and headed toward the dark shape of a forest. Lhel gestured in that direction and he was glad. It would be good to be among trees again.

Caliel and Barieus fell silent as the night dragged on.

Lutha didn’t know if they were asleep or not and didn’t have the heart to disturb them.

Pain was a good distraction, or perhaps he really was brave, for he couldn’t muster much fear. Perhaps that would come later, when he was climbing the gibbet? He tried to picture his own head on a pike, beside those already rotting on the battlements, but felt nothing but a numb disinterest. When he imagined the others dead, though, especially Barieus, it broke his heart.

He had no idea how close dawn was when he heard a laugh and the murmur of voices, then a soft thud against the door. He lay very still, like a rabbit frozen in front of a fox.

A moment later he heard the grating of the door bar. Fear found him then, as the door swung open with a small creak of hinges.

It was still dark outside and the guards had no torches. Lutha could make out nothing more than the indistinct outline of a smallish figure standing there.

“Who is it?” Lutha demanded, throat so dry he could scarcely get the words out.

“A friend.” Lutha didn’t recognize the whispered voice, but it sounded like a young man. “Get up, all of you. Hurry!”

Lutha struggled painfully to his knees. There was a faint rattle, then the sudden brightness of a small, shuttered lantern. A fair-haired young man stood holding it, and a bundle of clothing.

“Hurry, put this on,” he urged, shaking out his bundle and handing them each a shirt and plain cloak. He looked down at Caliel and gasped. Caliel hadn’t stirred. His back was black with dried blood and raw wounds.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Lutha whispered, gingerly pulling on the shirt.

“A friend of the queen’s,” the young man replied impatiently. “She’d be very unhappy if you died. Please, hurry before someone comes.”

“Caliel, wake up,” Lutha urged softly, shaking him by the foot.

Caliel groaned. Barely conscious, he was too weak and disoriented to stand by himself. With the stranger’s help, Lutha and Barieus got him on his feet. His skin was hot and dry, and he let out another ragged groan when the stranger draped the cloak around him. “What—What’s happening?”

“I’m getting you out of here before Korin hangs three more good men,” the stranger told him. He shuttered the lantern again and opened the door a crack to peer out. “Clear. Go now. The guard is about to change.”

“No, can’t!” Caliel muttered, confused. “Won’t desert—”

Lutha tightened his grip around him. “Please, Cal, don’t fight us. We’re helping you.”

Between the three of them they managed to get him out the door. The yard lay in shadow, the torch by the door extinguished, but Lutha could make out two prone forms on the ground. He wondered how this slight young man had overpowered them, and if one of them was the man who’d spoken kindly to him before. He hoped not.

Keeping to the shadows and avoiding the guards stationed at the main gate, they made it to a small postern gate on the west side of the wall. Another guard lay dead or unconscious there.

“There was no way to get horses for you, so you’ll have to get him away on foot as well as you can. Take the path along the cliffs and stay clear of the encampments. If you hear anyone coming after you, you can hide—or jump.”

Lutha was less shocked by the advice than he might have been a few days ago. “At least tell me your name.”

The fellow hesitated, and then whispered, “I’m Eyoli. Please tell Tamír that I’m still here, and will get word out as soon as I can. Go on now, hurry! Steal horses if you can find them, but get from here before the sun comes up.”

With that, Eyoli all but shoved them through the postern and closed the door after them before Lutha thought to thank him.

The outer walls reached almost to the cliffs. A narrow strip of grassy, uneven land lay below, and in the starlight a well-worn goat path showed in a pale line, winding away between the rocks and hummocks. Not far away lay the outer watch fires of the southern encampment. Lutha squinted around in the darkness, praying they didn’t meet anyone on this trail so late at night. They were in no shape to run or fight.

They had to all but carry Caliel—not an easy task. He wasn’t heavy, but he was taller than either of them and half-dead on his feet. Lutha could feel the warmth of blood soaking through the cloak under his arm and running down his own back as the effort pulled the lash cuts open again. By sheer determination, they managed it; but Lutha scarcely dared breathe, expecting an outcry from above or the angry hiss of arrows.

But luck was with them, it seemed. They got away from the keep and met no one on the trail. Carefully skirting the outlying tents, they followed it for a mile or so, resting often as their strength threatened to give out and Caliel drifted in and out of consciousness. When they were past the last of the pickets, they cut across to the road leading into the small forest in the distance.

Lutha was in terrible pain and had had no water in nearly a day. He felt increasingly light-headed as they went along, and Barieus was in no better condition.

“What are we going to do?” Barieus whispered, voice filled with pain and fear. The trees still seemed very far away and the first hint of dawn was visible on the eastern horizon.

“To Tobin,” Caliel rasped, lurching deliriously along between them. “We must—we have to find out—”

“Yes.” This would mark them as traitors for sure, but their lives weren’t worth a lead sester if Korin caught them. Ah well, he can only hang us once .

Still, he found himself looking across Caliel’s shoulder at Barieus. They’d known each other since birth. If anything more happened to Barieus because of him—

Barieus caught him looking and rasped out, “Don’t say it. I go where you go.”

Lutha grinned to hide his own relief. Atyion was a very long way off. He wasn’t certain they could even make it to the forest ahead.

There were no steadings or villages on this stretch of the isthmus, nowhere to steal a horse. As dawn slowly lit the sky, they struggled on, and finally managed to get Caliel into the cover of the trees as the first bright edge of the sun appeared over the sea. A narrow dirt road wound away into the dark wood. Brambles and cane berry bushes lined the road, too thick to get through. For now at least they had to keep to the road.