Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

Churn had been doing relatively well most of the day. His first moments in the saddle had been difficult; Hoyt was nursing a painfully bruised shoulder and a ringing ear, the price for keeping the bigger man aloft long enough for him to experiment with Hannah’s sapling strategy. At first, Churn had gripped his friend hard, as if clinging onto life itself, until Hoyt had shrieked for mercy.

Finally Alen and Hannah calmed Churn enough to try the cane idea, and Churn had released Hoyt only when he had the stick in one muscular paw and the pommel grasped with the other. Wide-eyed with terror, the mute had only released the saddle-horn long enough to berate his companions with economic but vituperative insults.

‘Would you look at that?’ Hoyt teased. ‘Which one is the horse?’

With inhuman quickness, Churn cupped his hand for maximum pain and boxed one side of the smaller man’s head, landing a direct hit over Hoyt’s ear and sending his friend reeling to the ground.

Hoyt rolled over in the dirt and shouted, ‘I told you not too hard, you slack-jawed oaf!’

It took a good three avens, but eventually Churn started to relax in the saddle. He was not yet a horseman, but he had not yet fallen either. He jabbed at the ground with Hannah’s cane, and clung hard to both pommel and bridle. They didn’t make particularly good time, but if it took Churn several days to feel comfortable in the saddle, then that’s what it took. Riding was still quicker than walking.

By the dinner aven, Churn had mastered a three-step survival technique. Feeling the rhythm of his horse’s gait, he would use his powerful legs to lift himself in the saddle, step one. Next, he would await the appropriate moment and release his not inconsiderable bulk back into the saddle, step two. Finally, in the beat between sitting and rising again, he would lift and plant his sapling cane, preserving a tenuous connection with the dusty Pragan road, step three.

It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. With darkness closing in about them, Alen quickened the pace slightly in hopes of reaching the edge of the current vegetable farm and finding a grove of trees or perhaps a forest where they could camp. He didn’t relish the notion of sleeping in one of the fields – though he hadn’t detected Malagon’s magicians in three days, the idea of being so vulnerable, especially at night, was too unsettling.

In time, he guessed, he would overcome his fear of sleeping outside, but like Churn, it would not be tonight. He spotted an indistinct blur on the horizon and said, ‘Is that a grove of trees or just a stand of bushes over there?’

‘Trees,’ Hoyt said. ‘It looks like a good place to spend the night – and there’s plenty of food scattered about as well.’

‘Good,’ Alen said. ‘Churn! We’re about done for the day. Congratulations, my old friend. You survived.’

Churn, busy gripping his pommel and sapling, didn’t answer.

After a dinner of fresh vegetable and venison stew, Churn and Hannah moved through the grove collecting enough wood to keep their fire kindled for the night. Hoyt used a whetstone to polish the thin surgical knife he carried and Alen sipped from a wineskin while scraping stew from dirty trenchers.

‘I hate to be the one to bring up another sore issue,’ Hoyt began.

‘But you will,’ Alen could sense a thorough chastising on the horizon.

‘Someone has to,’ Hoyt said, ‘and I’ve known you longest.’

‘And I need to cut back on the wine, right?’ There was no irritation in Alen’s voice.

‘Think about where we’re going. How much confidence would you have if the person to whom you looked for guidance and leadership was ass-over-hill each night?’

‘You’re right,’ Alen said.

Hoyt went on, And where we’re going – Churn and I might be the only two people in Eldarn willing to tag along on this journey. I mean, Hannah has to go, and you have your- your problems to work out, but if you’re getting kicked in the head every night, it won’t bode well for-’

‘I said, you’re right,’ Alen said, a hint of irritation appearing now. ‘I will cut back – some.’

‘Oh.’ Hoyt was genuinely surprised; he had been expecting a harder fight. ‘Oh, well, uh, good. I’m glad to hear that… and I don’t know that you have to quit entirely.’

‘I should,’ Alen said. ‘It’s the only way to be certain it won’t raise its cadaverous head looking for me, especially when things get difficult later on.’

Hoyt had what he wanted: Alen’s commitment. Now it was up to the former Larion Senator. ‘Well, you can address those details as they – sorry – arise. But either way, I’m glad to hear that and I know Hannah will appreciate seeing less of that kind of behaviour as well.’

‘I’m sure she will.’ In a display of good faith, Alen handed the wineskin over.

Hoyt wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he jostled it back and forth between his hands for a few moments, drank a quick slurp as if to say See? This won’t be awkward at all and then set the skin aside, wishing Hannah and Churn would return. ‘Does it affect your abilities?’ he asked.

‘You mean being drunk? Does it impact my ability to work Larion magic? I should say so; although I’m not entirely sure, because I have used so little magic in the last-’ He stopped and thought for a while. ‘I don’t know how many Twinmoons it’s been. I don’t know how many have passed. Isn’t that funny? One can actually drink enough to lose whole Twinmoons. Pissing demons, but I am a sorry sop.’

‘So, it does,’ Hoyt confirmed.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Will you be able to get us inside?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alen answered honestly. ‘I haven’t been to Welstar Palace. I have seen it in visions, when Nerak’s worked various unholy spells, but I didn’t watch with the eye of one planning a covert assault. And to answer your next question, no, I don’t know if I have enough magic left to keep us safe, especially once we get inside. There was – is – a whole team of magicians looking for me and who knows how many more doing other work for our dark prince. It will be my final test, of that I am confident.’

‘But your house,’ Hoyt said, ‘how did you keep your house hidden for so long?’

‘I cast that spell long before your great grandparents were born, Hoyt. If I hadn’t released it on purpose, it would have stayed that way until I died, maybe even longer.’

‘Didn’t that drain you, keeping it going that long?’

‘Not really. You see, magic is kind of like physics: once something gets going, it actually takes more to stop it than to keep it moving. Look at our twin moons. Those two hunks of rock have been spinning around this world since the beginning of the first Age, longer than that. And they are about perfect, meeting in the northern and southern skies with such predictability that we know the day and time, within an aven, when they will align. It’s amazing. Something got them here; something got them started and even something as huge as our own sun, gigantic in the distance, can’t pull them away from each other and from us.’

‘So, the magic keeping your house hidden-’

‘Except for the occasional flicker when a bird would slam into it and perish right there in the sky – that took some quick explaining – but apart from that, my house would have remained camouflaged, people on the street finding it curious but difficult to recall, possibly for ever.’

Hoyt smiled, but his eyes betrayed his trepidation.

‘You don’t have to come along, Hoyt,’ Alen said. ‘Actually, I don’t know why you’re here at all. What have you got to gain by going into Welstar Palace?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe I won’t go in. Maybe just Churn will go with you. He’s wanted to get his hands on Malagon for a long time.’