Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

Hoyt.

Gods keep Hoyt for a thousand Twinmoons. His old friend had come up with this strategy; Churn swore he would crush the little thief in a bear-hug if he made it back to the top. He watched as the rope came ever closer, then bent to lift Hannah gently over his shoulder. As soon as he moved her, she awakened briefly, screamed what he guessed was a string of obscenities in her own language, and then passed out again. When the line reached the flat stone, he grabbed it, wrapped it several times around his free wrist, tugged twice to let Hoyt and Alen know he was ready and then worked his way up the slope, digging in with the toes of his boots and allowing the two men to haul him and Hannah back to the upper edge of the gorge.

Churn was careful not to look down until well after they had reached the safety of the forested hilltop.

‘We would have known, right?’ Steven asked.

‘I suppose so,’ Gilmour answered, ‘although I can’t be certain anymore – I’ve lost track of myself recently…’

‘I think you’re underestimating yourself, Gilmour. Maybe you’re tired – we’ve been going at breakneck speed since Mark and I arrived, and that’s just been the past Twinmoon or so. You’ve been pushing yourself for much longer: you’ve been running on fumes since Orindale.’ Steven held back a branch to let the old man past. The forest they were walking through was thick with young growth, periodically interspersed with the charred remains of an older tree, still standing, but truncated by fire and crusted in black ash. Steven released the pliable branch with a snap. ‘Anyway, I’m sure we would have felt it.’

‘I agree,’ Gilmour nodded, ‘if he had levelled the city, we would have known. I felt the Port Denis spell from all the way across Eldarn, so even in my current state I think I would have sensed it if Nerak reduced Traver’s Notch to rubble three days’ ride from here.’ He tried to sound encouraged, but he wasn’t happy at the idea of resting at Sandcliff; the site of the massacre that had killed nearly all of his closest friends was not the most relaxing prospect. ‘You may be right, Steven,’ he continued. ‘I’m not young any more – I haven’t been young in nearly two thousand Twinmoons.’ He laughed. ‘But on fumes? That I don’t understand.’

‘Fumes, yes,’ Steven said, ‘gas fumes – it’s a car reference, Gilmour. Automobiles: you’re going to love them.’

‘Automobiles.’ He considered the word. ‘Very well; we shall see in due course.’

Comforted by the idea that Traver’s Notch still stood, Steven changed the subject and asked, ‘Where are we, anyway?’

‘You see that hill over there?’ Gilmour pointed across a shallow valley to the north. ‘That’s Gorsk. Sandcliff is probably four or five days’ ride north of there, longer if Nerak has the hills patrolled and we have to work our way up the coast.’

‘What’s keeping us from just riding through the valley and heading north right here?’ Steven indicated the gentle downward slope from their current position on top of a long ridge running west to east along the border. He was anxious to cross over into Gorsk; he needed to feel as though the final leg of their journey had begun. Lessek’s key had been feeling especially heavy in his pocket.

Gilmour stared for a moment across the valley, then said, ‘I’m no expert on foreign affairs, but I suspect they might have some questions for us.’ He pointed down into the draw where smoke swirled among the treetops that encircled a clearing. There were several rows of large canvas tents.

‘Holy shit,’ Steven exclaimed, ‘where did they come from?’

‘They are encamped all along this ridge,’ the Larion sorcerer said. ‘Take a look back there.’ He pointed west, the way they had come.

Squinting, Steven could see more tendrils of smoke snaking their way skywards from within the trees. ‘Jeez, they’re everywhere,’ he said, then, as if noticing their position for the first time, ‘Shouldn’t we take cover?’

‘Why?’

‘For one, the only cover we have right now is a few charred stumps. And two, well… there is no two, but one seems a healthy enough reason to duck down for me, wouldn’t you agree?

‘I wouldn’t worry, Steven,’ the old man said calmly.

Steven looked incredulous. ‘And why not?’

‘Your mother’s blanket, remember?’

Steven stopped and rubbed his horse’s nose. ‘It works on them too?’

‘From what I can gather, your spell was very thorough.’ Gilmour didn’t elaborate.

Steven looked around, suddenly uncomfortable, and gripped a fistful of mane. ‘All right then. If they don’t know we’re here, let’s go, before they find us some other way. What are we waiting for?’

‘Did I mention that I’m a little uncertain of my own skills right now?’

Steven nodded. ‘And?’

‘I don’t doubt your magic at all, but I would hate to attempt a crossing and have someone hear our horses whinny, or see too many tree branches moving against the wind – they’d be bound to investigate.’

‘Oh.’ Steven sounded dejected.

‘Don’t get downhearted.’ Gilmour tried to sound reassuring. ‘You did a very thorough job and I am quite sure Nerak has no idea where we are – at least for now.’

‘I think I’ve felt him looking for us,’ Steven said.

‘Me, too,’ Gilmour said. ‘But until I am convinced we won’t be riding into an enemy prison, I want to continue east until the patrols thin out enough that we could cross in one of your fuming automobiles and no one would be any wiser.’

‘All right then.’ Steven turned back to the trail.

Gilmour said, ‘I was impressed, by the way.’

Steven looked surprised at the unexpected compliment. ‘You were?’

‘No spells, no fancy incantations, just focus and concentration: you are far, far ahead of any Larion sorcerer I ever knew, Steven, even some who had been studying for twenty Twinmoons or more – except Kantu, Pikan and Nerak, of course, but they were exceptional.’ He sighed and climbed into the saddle. ‘I was impressed. Come on, I think we can ride from here.’

Steven looked back to where Garec and Mark were engrossed in a conversation about arrows and homemade fletching. ‘Mount up, boys,’ he called softly. ‘We’re going to ride from here.’

‘Oh, hurrah,’ Mark groaned. He was still clumsy in the saddle and would have been far happier jogging all the way to Sandcliff Palace. ‘How much further today?’

‘We need to get past that encampment, and Gilmour says we might have to go another day or two east towards the coast.’

Garec agreed with Gilmour. ‘They won’t patrol as much out there, especially east of the Merchants’ Highway. There’s nothing out there.’

As they set off, Mark tried to pull the wrinkles out of his leggings where the unruly fabric had bunched up to expose his lower legs; he cursed and nearly fell into the dirt beside the trail. ‘Goddamn these creatures,’ he muttered, pulling himself straight again.

Gilmour, confident Steven’s cloaking spell would effectively distract any one who thought they detected something out of the ordinary, allowed a small fire behind a house-sized boulder left on the ridge by a god building a mountain somewhere further north. It wasn’t strictly necessary – they had plenty of dried meat and cheese still – but Gilmour had been craving a cup of coffee himself, and as the milk wouldn’t last much longer, he decided a break would do them all good. Everyone was anxious to cross the border into Gorsk and he couldn’t blame them; he was a little excited as well. He hoped they had come east far enough to slip north safely.