Текст книги "Call of the Herald"

Автор книги: Brian Rathbone

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 7

With dogma and aspiration, one can spin sand into gold.

– -Icar the glassmaker

***

In the late morning, Catrin awoke and saw Benjin looking exhausted. As soon as she stood, he stumbled to his bedding.

"Don't leave the cavern," he mumbled then flopped down heavily and fell asleep.

Catrin used a stick to stir the remnants of the fire, and she added twigs to the glowing coals beneath the ash. She soon had a fire large enough to boil water. Kettle in hand, she approached the lake, and it shimmered in the light breeze, its surface rippling like the scales of a snake. Concentric rings added to the impression of a giant serpent curled around itself. She wondered at its beauty, amazed that something so massive and alluring could lie hidden inside a mountain for ages.

Was something beautiful if no one saw it? Her life had been that of a farm girl, and she hadn't entertained such philosophical thoughts that she could recall, but she had changed lately. Perhaps it was the bizarre events she had experienced recently, or maybe she was growing up; either way, she knew she would never be the same. It occurred to her that she and the rest of the group, with the exception of Benjin, would be growing up fast.

Curiosity gnawed at her, and she decided to wet her feet in the lake, if only to conquer her fear of something grabbing her and pulling her in. She let the water cover her ankles, finding it curious that little sand or mud covered the lake floor. The black stone was smooth and cool under her toes, almost too slick to stand upon. With the kettle filled, she pulled herself away from the mysterious serpent lake. The entire place intrigued her and sent her awareness into motion. So much of the cavern was obscured by darkness; her imagination bridged the gaps with grand images. Some of her mind's creations filled her with an almost irresistible desire to explore; others urged her back to the relative safety of camp.

Walking toward the fire, she looked up at the distant ceiling, which appeared to be a natural stone formation, in contrast to the man-made entrance hall. Stalactites reached inexorably toward the water below. When she looked ahead again, she saw Chase about to walk into her, his head craned upward. He, too, was caught up in the majesty of their hideaway, and a fair amount of water sloshed from her kettle onto his feet when Catrin stopped short to avoid the collision.

"Sorry," she said.

"No problem. I should've seen you coming. It's just that this place is so mystifying. It's not that it scares me or anything, but there's a strange feeling in the air-or something."

"I know what you're saying, and I feel like that too. I like it, and yet it frightens me a bit. Let's just sit by the fire while you dry out."

Strom and Osbourne came over to join them by the remains of the fire, bringing their mixture of nuts and dried fruit and hard, dark bread. As their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the cavern, they found they could see quite well despite the low light. Revitalized by the snack, Chase suggested they have a look around, and Osbourne agreed to stand guard.

As they skirted the lake, the walls began to close in, and the rock shoreline tapered to a narrow point, beyond which the water lapped directly against the nearly vertical walls of the dome. They couldn't quite make out the far side of the cavern, but they could make a fair guess at the distance. It was farther than any of them thought they could swim, not that they wanted to swim in that ominous-looking water.

The place had a powerful energy, and the black water brought to mind visions of giant serpents lurking just below the surface, lying in wait for unsuspecting swimmers. They had seen no indication of fish or any other creatures in the lake, but that seemed logical considering the lack of sunlight. They continued on along the shoreline, which was relatively smooth and free of debris.

Along the opposite shoreline, Catrin spotted an irregular shadow against the cavern wall. Moving in for a better look, they found the remains of the raft Benjin and Wendel had made years before. It looked as if they had pulled the raft to shore, stood it up, and propped it against the cavern wall. The logs were crumbling, and the rope had long since deteriorated, falling away when Chase gave it a tug. They left it where it was so Benjin could see it. Perhaps, Catrin thought, it might spark some good memories.

When they returned to camp, Benjin was pulling the kettle from the smoldering coals. He strode to the lake, kettle in hand, and it hissed as he placed it in the cold water. He dropped the handle and hastily pulled his hand away then waved to the returning group with a smile.

"Well, did you find anything exciting?" he asked.

"We found your raft," Chase announced with pleasure. "It definitely needs some new rope to hold it together, but I think it could still float."

"There really isn't much to see from what I recall, but if we find the time, we could lash it back together just for old time's sake," Benjin said then paused a moment before addressing them in a more serious tone. "We may need to stay here far longer than we are prepared for, and we need to get ready so we have food during the winter," he said as he walked over to where he had unpacked the bows and fishing rods.

"Catrin, you and Chase are both experienced hunters, and I'd like you to see if you can bring down any game. We can't afford to be picky. We're going to need as much meat as we can get. I believe there's a stream to the north and east of here. If you find it, look for a good fishing hole. I don't think there are any fish in this lake, but you never know. On a rainy day, we could try dropping a line." He handed Chase and Catrin each a bow, string, and a quiver of arrows.

"Try to retrieve any arrows you loose. My fletching skills are not what they used to be, and I was never very good to begin with," he said.

Catrin and Chase strung their bows, and Catrin was glad to have her familiar hunting tool in hand. After drawing her belt knife, she cut off a length of rope and coiled it around her belt. Chase seemed satisfied with Benjin's bow, and he got some dried beef strips from their provisions so they would have something to eat while they hunted.

"I want Strom and Osbourne to help me gather wood so we can build a small smoke room inside the cavern. We can also work on getting more water boiled, cooled, and into the flasks," he continued. With the responsibilities assigned, they got their gear and set off.

"Be back before dark," Benjin instructed. "Stay quiet and always remain alert. If you need help, howl like wolves."

Catrin and Chase made short work of their descent and headed east. They saw a few game trails, and Chase spotted a couple of buck rubs on the trunks of some nearby trees, but they found no other signs of wildlife.

"We need to find water. If we find water, we'll find game," Chase said.

They stood quietly, listening for the sound of moving water, but they heard only leaves rustling in the light breeze. Catrin checked the air for the scent of apples or berries, knowing that those, too, would attract animals, but she didn't detect anything. They turned toward the east since Benjin had mentioned a stream somewhere in that direction. Walking in stealthy silence, they were alert for any movements, large or small.

Chase stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes. "It may be hot now, but there's a storm coming. I can smell it."

"I smell it too," Catrin said. "Let's hope it waits till after nightfall to rain. We better get moving."

A moment later, though, Chase stopped and stared, open mouthed, at a large eagle, which swooped in for a kill just a short distance ahead. Catrin watched in awe as the magnificent bird smashed into the ground and just as suddenly propelled itself back into the air with a huge black snake in its claws. The eagle had to work hard to gain the air, the weight of the snake holding it down, but it pumped its powerful wings and flew back into the treetops. They soon heard the screams of the eaglets demanding their turn to be fed.

Catrin and Chase pressed on, hugging the valley wall to keep from getting turned around in the cover of the trees. Catrin froze when she heard a branch snap off to her right. She and Chase nocked their arrows and took up positions behind nearby trees, but nothing emerged from the woods. Catrin was about to give up when Chase tapped her on the shoulder and pointed.

A little farther north from where the noise had come, a medium-sized spike buck was following a pair of does into a narrow clearing. Catrin took aim at the buck, the largest of the three. Her arm trembled as she held the bowstring taut, waiting for a clean shot. The buck suddenly flicked both ears forward and snorted, and all three deer turned and fled, their fluffy white tails standing up straight.

Taking hasty aim, Catrin loosed her arrow. Her shot flew over the buck's head, but it didn't miss by much. The sound of the arrow frightened him, and he turned aside, giving Chase the broadside shot he'd been waiting for. Chase's arrow hit just behind the buck's shoulder, and he reached the deer almost before it hit the ground. Catrin held back a moment and allowed him time to grant the animal a quick death. She understood the need to hunt, but she didn't like to kill or see anything die. Chase would take care of that part, and she was grateful. She tossed him a length of rope with a sad smile, and he tied the buck's ankles.

"Nice shot," she said.

"Couldn't have done it without ya, Cat. If you hadn't panicked and taken the bad shot, I might never have gotten a good one. Your shot wasn't even close, you know," he said, grinning.

"It was close enough to make him hesitate and change his course, which gave you a sleeping bull for a target," she scolded and set off in the direction her arrow had gone. She pushed her way farther into the underbrush, and caught a sudden movement from the corner of her vision.

Stumbling backward, she found herself staring down at a large boar. She let out a yelp as she met the boar's eyes and knew immediately she had made a big mistake. The threatened boar interpreted her direct eye contact as a challenge and dropped its head as it charged. Catrin backpedaled as quickly as she could, and she could hear Chase scrambling behind her, trying to come to her aid. In a split second, she realized she could not possibly outrun the boar and knew her best chance was to shoot it before it gored her.

She spun gracefully, pulling an arrow from her quiver as she turned. With practiced precision, she nocked the arrow and drew, but in mid-draw she realized that she was not going to be fast enough. The boar was going to reach her within an instant of her firing. She leaped into the air as she loosed her arrow, and she heard the air whistle as Chase's arrow whizzed by. Both arrows struck the beast in the chest, but the boar's momentum carried its enormous weight forward and sent it crashing into Catrin's legs while she was still in midair. She felt a tusk stab her in the shin as she was tossed higher into the air by the impact.

Face-first, she landed on the flailing hooves of the mortally wounded boar. Her landing knocked the wind out of her, and she was kicked in the face several times before she could get her breath and roll free. Fortunately, the boar was in its death throes, and the kicks had little force behind them. Chase quickly finished off the boar and turned to Catrin, who sat dazed and winded.

Her vision clouded as her eye started to swell shut, and blood poured freely from her nose and lips. The boar's tusk hadn't penetrated her leather pants, but her leg felt as if it were bruised to the bone. She sucked air through her teeth as she pulled her pant leg up to expose the wound. Her leg was swelling, and she soon had a large lump on her shin.

"I'll go back for help," Chase said just as a light rain began to fall.

"I can walk," she said, but she winced when she put weight on her wounded leg.

"Our kills weigh more than the two of us combined. I'm going for help," Chase said firmly. He turned and jogged back toward the cavern, occasionally howling like a wolf. He and the others returned more quickly than Catrin would have thought possible. She stood to greet them, and Benjin's face paled when he saw her. Her wounds were not as bad as they appeared, but she made a ghastly sight. The rain had streaked the dirt and blood on her face, and the swelling was getting worse.

"Cripes, Cat. You were supposed to shoot the game, not tackle it," Strom said. "It looks like he put up a pretty good fight."

Benjin gave her a thorough looking over and shook his head. "You got mighty lucky, li'l miss. Not many survive facing a boar that size. I'd say you fared pretty good by the looks of things. D'ya think you can walk?"

"Yes. It hurts a bit, but I don't think anything is broken," she said through gritted teeth. She put some weight on her leg and it held, but it throbbed painfully.

Benjin looked for a fallen branch but found none that suited him. He cut down a nearby sapling, stripped it of branches, and cut it to be as long as Catrin was tall. He handed her the makeshift walking stick. "We all need a little help sometimes. Lean on this."

Chase and Strom hacked at a couple of saplings with their belt knives and stripped them of branches. Benjin tied the animals' ankles then inspected the saplings. They slid the smaller sapling under the ropes that tied the buck's ankles and took the larger sapling to the boar.

Benjin helped them get the boar on the pole then stood and wiped his hands on his pants. "Strom and I will take the boar. Chase and Osbourne can carry the deer. Are you sure you want to walk, li'l miss? We could come back for you."

"I can make it," she said, wiping blood from her nose, but she leaned heavily on the walking stick. Benjin and Strom each put a shoulder under the sapling and struggled to get the boar off the ground.

"I know I said we couldn't afford to be picky, but in the future, let's stick to game smaller than a horse," he said between clenched teeth. With that, they began lurching back toward the cavern.

Chase and Osbourne moved in behind them, struggling a bit with the weight of the buck. Catrin limped along, lost in thought as she struggled to keep up.

They reached the base of the rock pile where the cavern was located, dropped the boar and buck to the ground, and flopped down beside them. They lay there, exhausted. Catrin leaned against a tree and tried to ignore the pain in her face and leg.

"With these kills, you and Chase should be able to sit back and relax. My stomach thanks you," Strom said with a smirk and a quick bow. Benjin had rigged a harness to lift the kills up to the cavern while Chase and Catrin had been out hunting. After they raised the deer and the boar, Benjin gave her his shoulder to lean on as she carefully put her injured leg into one side of the harness he had crafted. She leaned heavily on him as she gingerly lifted her other leg into the apparatus. "We'll take it real slow. Just let us know if you need help or if you feel you are in trouble," Benjin said.

As soon as her feet left the boulders, she started spinning, and she had to catch herself on a nearby branch. Chase did what he could to steady the rope from his perch in a tree above her, but his movements shook the tree, showering her with rainwater. He pushed the rope out away from a large branch, and she passed well clear of it. When she finally cleared the ledge, they looked at the boar then at the deer and finally at their small smoke room.

"We're going to need a bigger smokehouse," Osbourne said.

Benjin attended to Catrin's wounds while the others dressed the carcasses. She winced as he wiped the dried blood from her face and nose. Her eye was nearly shut, and her nose was sore, but those were barely noticeable compared with the throbbing pain in her shin. She pulled back with a sharp intake of breath when he lightly ran the damp cloth over it. He got his wax-sealed herbal kit and another flask of clean water and told Catrin to tilt her head back and open her mouth. She did so reluctantly, knowing what was coming. He sprinkled a fair amount of ground humrus root into her mouth and handed her the flask. She gulped, and water splashed down the sides of her face as she hurried to wash down the bitter-tasting herb. She took several more large gulps before she would let Benjin take the flask from her.

He put a bit more of the powder in his palm and poured a small amount of water on it. He mixed it into a paste and told Catrin to lie back and relax. She sprawled on her back but could not relax; her leg was still throbbing, and she tensed in anticipation of his touch on her swollen shin. He did it as quickly and gently as he could, but she cried out in pain, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

"It'll take a little while for the humrus root to dull the pain, but it should help you sleep tonight," he said. Soon, mercifully, the potion began to take effect. Her pain was mostly dulled, and exhaustion overtook her. The herbs and the rhythmic sound of the falling rain soon lulled her into a deep sleep.

***

Though he had met with General Dempsy in the past, Kern felt an ache in his stomach and his knees trembled. This mission was different from all that had come before it, and the general's mood had been ranging from seething to bitter. The men had come to fear him more than ever as he lashed out in anger. His judgments over disputes became increasingly harsh, often punishing both the accused and the accuser. Most disputes were now handled between the individuals for fear of General Dempsy's decisions.

Biting his lip, Kern rapped on the general's cabin door.

"Come."

"Good afternoon, General Dempsy, sir."

"Overseer Kern. Report."

"We've covered the farmlands, sir. She's not there. I've sent men into the mountains, but I've received no reports yet. We'll find her, sir. You can depend on that."

"You'd better. Your men are supposed to be the best. I suggest you prove it, or your next medal could be posthumous."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter 8

The righteous are bound by duty to enlighten the heathens and emancipate the souls of those beyond reform.

– -Archmaster Belegra

***

The next few days passed more quickly than Catrin had thought they would. Her wounds were healing well, and she spent most of her time dressing, butchering, salting, and smoking the game Benjin and Chase brought back. Strom had had some luck with a fishing hole, and there were fish to be filleted then cooked, salted, or smoked. Racks made of fresh-hewn saplings now lined one of the cavern walls, and a few were already laden with cured venison, pork, and fish. Strom had been elected to find fruits and nuts, and he brought in apples, berries, and sacks of black walnuts.

As the provisions mounted, Benjin said, "I'm pleased with your work, but we still need at least three times what we have if we're to survive the winter."

"I'd rather not live here, but if I must, I don't want to go hungry." That was the mantra that kept the young people working. No one was happy with the prospect of a prolonged stay, but they tried not to dwell on it; their lives depended on the work they had to do, which meant less idle time to speculate about the future and the fates of their loved ones.

Despite Catrin's rapid recovery, Benjin continued to apply humrus paste to her shin, though he used it sparingly to conserve his supply of herbs. Catrin gladly retired her walking stick when she could put weight on her leg without any pain.

Benjin described a few herbs he thought might grow in the area and asked them to harvest only half of any plants they found, making sure to leave enough for repopulation. "If you only find one or two plants, just pick a few leaves. Some will be better than none," he said.

Within a few weeks, they had food to last until spring with strict rationing. They had to use the last of their salt supply, however, and their herb-gathering efforts had produced little. "There's no help for it, I suppose," Benjin said when he shook the last of the salt from the bag, too little even to cover a perch fillet. "We can't smoke too much meat without giving away our location. We'll need to eat as much fresh meat and fish as possible until we can no longer hunt. Any food that'll keep is off limits. We'll need it before spring arrives, no doubt. I want Strom and Catrin to gather more black walnuts, since they seem to be plentiful, and any other nuts or fruits you find.

"I know I've been pushing you all hard, but I've little choice in the matter. The storms can be intense this high in the mountains, and the snow doesn't melt till spring. Once the snows start, we could be trapped in here until spring. We need to gather more food so we can eat comfortably this winter, and we're going to need a much larger supply of firewood. I want you to spend half of each day hunting and foraging and the other half collecting wood. If you can do both at once, then you'll certainly impress me. I'm going to look for herbs. Our supply is far too small for my liking, and I know the places they like to hide," he said with a wink as he shouldered his pack.

When Benjin returned that evening, he was laden with plants and roots, and he entered the cavern with a big smile. "I feel a bit better now, I should have enough medicinal herbs to deal with most ailments, but try not to fall off any cliffs and watch out for snakes," he said. Along with the herbs, he produced turnips, asparagus, and even some wild garlic, which he used to make a delicious soup.

***

"I hope we don't have to eat all of these walnuts to survive," Strom said while he and Catrin were returning from one of their many nut-gathering outings, and she admitted that she was dreading the winter as much as he.

Tension grew as the weeks passed, and even Benjin began to show signs of worry. One night he sat them all down around the fire. "Wendel and I made an agreement. If he hadn't joined us within forty days, then I was to sneak back as close to Harborton as I could to see what's going on. I'm going to leave tomorrow before dawn, but I only plan to be gone for four or five days. You all know to remain quiet and stay hidden, keep the fires small, and try not to leave obvious signs of your passage when you're out hunting and gathering," he lectured.

"Maybe I should go with you," Chase offered.

"It'll be a very dangerous task, and I'm more experienced at this kind of thing. I want you all to stay here and continue on as you have been, but be extra careful; you must protect one another."

"What if you don't come back in five or six days?" Osbourne asked, concern written clearly on his face.

"The best thing you can do is keep yourselves safe and carry on as you have been. If you think you've been spotted, or if you need to escape, try to go east. About a half a day's walk from here, there's a large river. Follow the river north. When you reach the waterfall, climb to the top if you can and then follow the valley north by northeast," Benjin said, pausing a moment to look into the troubled faces in front of him to gauge their concern.

"I don't think you'll have any trouble; you're well hidden here. Just remember to stay inside as much as possible and keep quiet. You'll have enough provisions to last through the winter if you use good judgment. Strom, take the first watch and wake Chase for the second. I'm going to need my sleep tonight," he said before retiring to his bedroll.

Catrin and the others exchanged worried glances but didn't speak. They wanted to know what was going on outside their hideaway, but they feared for Benjin's safety. The tension in the cavern was palpable.

Catrin woke in the dead of night to find Benjin already gone. Chase sat near the fire and waved when he saw her sit up, and she joined him by the fire.

"How long ago did he leave?" she asked quietly.

"It's been quite a while. His idea of morning is more like the middle of the night," he replied. He declined her offer to take the rest of the watch, and instead they talked until dawn.

***

Though most of his wounds had healed, Peten Ross still walked with a limp, and not a moment passed that he did not feel pain. Yet no one showed him the slightest bit of favor or kindness-he was just another refugee, lumped in with commoners and men he wouldn't let shine his boots. The stench alone was enough to make him want to escape, but it was the chance to prove his bravery and worth to Roset and everyone else that was too alluring to resist.

She and the others had shunned him ever since the snake incident. Even knowing the snake was harmless, Peten recoiled from the thought of its touching him. He would prove Roset and the others wrong. While most chose to spend their time wallowing in self-pity, Peten had been looking for a way out. There were too many people confined in the Masterhouse, and he was convinced that Wendel Volker and those who followed him to the cold caves were getting fat on the Ross family's meat. For generations his family had been storing sides of beef in the cold caves, but only now did that practice seem a liability. It infuriated Peten that he should have to endure a strict ration when those who didn't deserve it dined on his food.

Things had seemed hopeless until Peten met a dirty little man whose name he did not remember nor care to know. All that was important was that this man was willing to reveal some of the Masterhouse's secrets for nothing more than a few silvers.

When everyone else was asleep, Peten walked on the tips of his toes over the still bodies that seemed to carpet the cold flagstones. One man cursed him when he stepped on a finger, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

At the entrance to the hall that led to the sacred chambers, those denied to the refugees, a bored-looking guard seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. It seemed an eternity that Peten waited, but then the moment came: the guard let his eyes droop closed. After waiting for a few more anxious moments, Peten moved as quietly as he could past the guard, his limp making the act of being silent even more difficult. His right foot seemed to want to drag across the stone with every step, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

Voices carried through the halls, and Peten flattened himself against the corridor wall, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"… can smell the boiling vermin from here."

"Won't be much longer before that problem is…"

The voices faded and Peten hastily resumed his quest, suddenly panicking, worried he had forgotten what the man told him. Was it left at the fifth hall then right at the third? Or was it the other way around? Sweat dripped into his eyes as he concentrated. Part of him wanted to give up, to go back and hide with his family and friends, but another part seemed to have awakened. He could make a difference. His actions could save countless lives. In his mind he played through the drama and pageantry that he imagined would follow his great victory. His people needed a leader, a person who would take action in the face of death, and he was that leader. All he had to do was prove that to everyone.

With determination, he strode forward as fast as his limp would allow. Following his gut instinct, he turned left when he reached the fifth hall and right at the third. No more voices broke the silence, and finding the room the man had told him about sent Peten's confidence soaring. If only his confidence could defeat the smell, which was worse than the smell of the refugees. The thought of climbing through a sewer made Peten want to wretch, but it was the path to his salvation. Driven by his need for power and a deeper, almost unrecognizable, feeling of responsibility for those he cared about, he entered the sewer.

The journey was something he hoped he could erase from his memory for all time, but he doubted it. At least the man had been true to his word about leaving a torch. Obtaining flint from a fellow refugee had cost him another silver, but it was coin well spent. Without the torch, he would have been lost. When he rounded a corner and saw a splash of dim light illuminating the way ahead, though, he quickly tossed the torch into the fetid water.

When he reached the grate, he nearly wept. Grasping at the bars that blocked his way, he cursed the dirty little scoundrel who had sent him on a fool's quest. Anger boiled in his belly, and he growled in fury. It took every scrap of will he possessed to refrain from crying out, from venting his rage on the heavens. In his anger, his muscles contracted and he could feel the bars digging into his flesh, but then something amazing happened: One of the bars began to move. It was only the slightest movement, but it was enough. Increasing the pressure, Peten began to push and pull on the bar as hard as he could. Mortar fell away in large chunks, and with a suddenness that sent Peten stumbling backward, the bar gave way.

Again Peten had to refrain from crying out as he pushed his way past the remaining bars. Rock and metal bit into his skin and left him with a dozen minor cuts, but he gained the fresh air and his freedom.

The drainage ditch that ran from the mouth of the sewer ended at a small cove so fouled and stagnant that no one would stay near it for long, and Peten decided that it could be no worse than the sewers had been, and it was his best chance to slip into the water undetected.

Beyond the cove he bathed in the crashing waves, letting them blast the foulness from him, but the smell seemed to follow him no matter how hard he scrubbed. In the end, he gave up washing and concentrated on swimming and, at times, wading his way along the coast. The sun began to rise, as if Vestra wished to expose him to the Zjhon.

Peten cursed his luck and looked for a good place to leave the water and gain the shore. He had seen no shadows and heard no voices for quite some time, and he knew he needed to cover a lot of distance in a hurry. When he reached the shore, he climbed a pair of massive stones that cradled an ancient tree between them. Using a branch to pull himself up, he had no time to react and not the slightest chance of avoiding the boot heel that was hurtling toward his face. In an instant, the world went dark.