They were approaching the wild forest that had formerly divided Evandar's lands from those he'd made for his brother and his brother's people. The forest, at least, still flourished, as wild and tangled as she remembered it, but then, it owed its life to older, stranger magicks than Evandar's. As they followed a road into the twisted, moss-covered trees, the sunlight faded, and a huge greenish-silver moon rose off to their left, hanging in the sky just above the treetops. When she turned in the saddle to glance back, she saw that the elven archers had spread out to surround Carra, Dar, and his precious burden. Jahdo seemed to be having no trouble urging his mule and packhorse to trot along quickly. But in the sky—
“We've lost Rhodry!” Dallandra said abruptly.
“Curse that wretched snake of a dragon!” Evandar looked up, searching the narrow stripe of view between the trees. “I saw them fly into the mist.”
“But I never saw them after. We should stop and wait—”
“Stop? Here? Under this moon?”
“True enough. Well, maybe they're just circling our line of march.”
“So I'll hope.” Evandar's voice sounded full of doubt, not hope. “I should never have trusted that slimy little wyrm.”
Thanks to Rhodry's coaxing, Arzosah had flown into the dweomer mist readily enough, following the horsemen. Evandar, however, had forgotten that the mist would blind any creature who flew so high above the ground. At first Arzosah flapped along steadily through the light-shot silvery air, and Rhodry thought he could hear the jingle of tack and the clopping of horses' hooves. All at once, though, they burst out of the mist into sunlight and looked down upon open sea, dotted with what seemed to be white islands. “Ah by the black hairy arse of the Lord of Hell!” “What?” Arzosah called back. “Speak louder!” “Doesn't matter!” Rhodry raised his voice over the wind sweeping over him as they flew. “We've lost them.”
“I can see that for myself.” The dragon dipped one wing and began to turn. “Hang on!”
He clung to the leather straps of her harness as she banked a wing for the wide turn around. When he risked a look at the ocean below, he saw the white islands more closely and realized that they were chunks of ice, exactly like those that form on lakes of a winter but a thousand times the size. The mist rose up all silver and lavender in front of him and swallowed the ice from his view. They swooped into the fog, flew some way in the blind grey, then swooped out again. Below them crawled a lead-colored river, oozing its way through brown reeds.
“Here we are!” Arzosah called back. “I know this place.”
“How?”
She ignored him and flew smoothly onward over the grasslands. At the horizon he could see the dark mounds of what appeared to be a forest. Arzosah changed course slightly and headed for it.
“The mother roads go through there,” she shouted. “They must have gone that way.”
“If you say so, then.”
All at once Arzosah flung up her head and sniffed the air like a hunting dog. She let out a screech that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle, then with a huge beat of her wings launched herself upward, flapping hard to gain height. Rhodry clung to the straps for all he was worth.
“What are you doing?” he yelled.
He got no answer until she'd risen so far above the ground that he felt dizzy. She levelled off her flight, banked one wing again, and turned in a lazy arc.
“Look down!” she called out.
Rhodry saw, so far below that they might have been beetles crawling on a dead log, a line of horsemen marching in military order. When Arzosah began a long glide down, he could count about twenty of them, all riding heavy horses and leading pack mules. He could also discern that they had manes as wild and long as those of their mounts. Leading them, flying fairly low to the ground, was a raven the size of a small pony.
“Horsekin!” Rhodry yelled.
“And Raena with them! Let's have a bit of sport!”
With a roar like a river in spate Arzosah plunged down. The raven saw them first; shrieking, she turned tail and flapped away fast. The men looked up just as their horses smelled the dragon. Kicking, plunging, bucking, the horses tried to bolt. The Horsekin riders were yelling and grabbing manes and necks, shortening up on their reins, clutching their saddle peaks—anything to keep from being thrown. Some of the horses did bolt, with cursing riders still clinging to them. Arzosah ignored them and swooped after the raven.
Shrieking, the raven dodged, darting this way and that, but steadily the dragon gained. Arzosah reached out with the full length of her neck and snapped. With one last shriek the raven disappeared, bursting through some invisible gate to another world, but Arzosah had a pair of black feathers in her mouth. She spat them out, then turned in a wide arc. Below the panicked Horsekin were trying to collect their mounts and their marching order.
“Shall we go after them again?” Arzosah cried out.
“No! Do you want to be lost here forever? We've got to find Evandar.”
“True!”
Still, she skimmed the ground and charged them one more time. The men screamed, wrenched their horses' heads around, and let them run where they would. Arzosah pulled up, gained height in a mad flap of wings, and flew fast away, chortling to herself. Rhodry tipped back his head and howled in berserk laughter.
To Dallandra it seemed that they travelled through the thick humid air of the forest for only a short space of time, but she knew perfectly well that in the physical world, Time was speeding along. Whenever they came to a clearing, she would look up, hoping to see the dragon, but they had ridden clear of the trees before Arzosah caught up to them. At the edge of the forest grew a tall tree, half of which burned perpetually with golden flames, whilst the other half grew green in full leaf. With a roar of greeting, Arzosah swooped overhead and landed near the living side. Dallandra was relieved to see Rhodry still on her back. She nudged her horse to a jog and trotted over to join them, with Evandar close behind.
“News!” Rhodry called out. “We've seen Raena, leading Horsekin through—well, through wherever this may be.”
“Evil news, then! How many of them were there?”
“Not more than a score. A good many found themselves on the ground when their horses got a noseful of Arzosah.”
“It was glorious,” Arzosah chimed in. “And I nearly caught that rotten-hearted little mazrak, too. She nipped through some sort of gate twixt worlds just ahead of my front teeth. Huh. I wonder if she'll come back for her delightful friends?”
“If she doesn't, I will,” Evandar said. “But come along, all of you! We daren't linger here. Move, move!”
With one long grumble of a roar, the dragon flung herself into the air. Dallandra swung her horse's head around and trotted after Evandar down a long dirt path that skirted the forest. She kept looking back and counting, but this time everyone in their ragged procession followed right along. At an enormous pile of grey boulders, they turned away from the forest edge, but still Evandar chivvied them to make speed. Not until they had got well clear did Evandar let them halt.
On the flat crest of a low hill, much like the one from which they'd first seen the dweomer mist, the line fanned out, allowing the horsemen to pull up abreast. The dragon began to circle above. Dallandra noticed that while the archers looked nervously ahead and muttered among themselves, Carra was smiling, all anticipation. Just below them the path ran down the gentle slope into a gathering mist, shot with pale stains of swirling colors on the silver-grey.
“Just go through that mist and you'll find yourself on the road to Cerr Cawnen,” Evandar said. “The town's but a few miles on.”
“You're not coming with us?” Dallandra said.
“Not just at the moment, not with Raena flying around the Lands as if the stinking bitch owned them!”
“True spoken, but once we're in Cerr Cawnen—”
“I'll never be far away. Shaetano's lurking there, you know, hoping for a chance at mischief. But I'd best be gone. Raena
's not going to dawdle around waiting for me.”
Evandar swung a leg over his horse's back and slid down to the ground. He tossed her the end of the halter rope.
“Take this poor beast with you, will you? He'll only be a nuisance to me now.”
“Very well, but—”
“I know, I know. I'll take him back to his owner later.”
With a cheery wave Evandar turned and jogged off. Dallandra watched until he plunged into the forest and disappeared, then rode back to the others.
“We're almost there,” she said. “Jahdo, no doubt you can lead us the last few miles home.”
Evandar had not gone far into the forest before he changed his form into the red hawk. With a harsh cry he leapt into the air and took to his wings, gliding on the wind over the trees, then flying fast to gain height. As he soared, he looked this way and that, searching for the raven, but if she lurked in the thick cover, he never saw her. Finally he left the forest behind and flew over the green hills of the new Wildlands.
He saw no horses, no riders, no raven, even though he spent a long time searching, crisscrossing back and forth over the meadows. Although he wondered if perhaps Arzosah had lied to him, he knew that Rhodry never would have done so. It was more likely that Shaetano had come to rescue his so-called priestess and her men and lead them back to the physical world by some devious route. He would simply have to search until he found it—and hope that it lay in a different part of the physical plane than the spot where he'd just set Dallandra down.
Riding through the dweomer mist had indeed brought Dallandra and her band of travellers to a place free of
Horsekin. They found themselves ambling west on a dirt road that ran between two fields of pale green grain, rippling in a soft wind. At some distance off to the south stood a blocky square farmhouse with a steep peaked roof. Dallandra could hear a dog barking, faint on the wind. Jahdo turned in the saddle toward Dallandra, but she could see he was having trouble speaking, caught twixt laughter and sobs.
“Oh my lady! It be true! This be the very road that does lead to my city.”
“Splendid!”
“But I did think of somewhat. Rori and the dragon. They mayn't land on the streets or suchlike. Everything be too narrow and crowded.”
“That's an excellent point. What shall we do with them?”
“There be an open space of sorts on Citadel. If we might fetch them down, I can tell them.”
Eventually Dallandra did get the dragon's attention by rising in her stirrups and yelling like a madwoman. Arzosah flapped her wings in answer, sheared off, and glided down some distance ahead. When the rest of the expedition caught up with her, Rhodry dismounted to stand in the dusty road.
“I thought I'd best not land where those farmers could see me,” Arzosah said.
“True spoken,” Dallandra said. “Jahdo's been thinking ahead to the problem of where you might stay in Cerr Cawnen.”
“A good question indeed.” Arzosah swung her head Jahdo's way. “You're very astute for a hatchling, I must say.”
“My thanks, my lady,” Jahdo said. “Now, when you do fly over our town, in the middle of the lake there be an island. Round the west side of that island there be ruins, these big blocks of stone, all tumbled and broken. But there be trees there, too, and you'll not be far from the plaza, where be a well of sweet water.”
“Sounds like a good choice, then,” Rhodry joined in. “What we'll do is this, if it passes muster with you, Dalla. I think you'd best prepare the town for our coming, like, and so we'd best not turn up till the morrow morning. I'll take some provisions and a blanket and suchlike before we fly off again.”
“I think you're right,” Dallandra said. “Jahdo, tell me, what will your fellow citizens think about a dragon?”
“Oh, we do see them now and again. They come to steal cattle—”
“I wouldn't call it stealing,” Arzosah broke in. “More like a tribute to the beauty of dragons.”
“The ones who own the cows, they do live in ignorance of your beauty.” Jahdo paused to smile at her. “Be that as it may, there be our fire mountain, too, for their resting place. Never before did I know the liking of great wyrms for fire mountains, but now that I do, it does explain why we see them round here.”
“So, then,” Dallandra said, “they'll not panic or suchlike?”
“Oh well now, we be a hard folk to panic. But truly, it be one thing to see a great wyrm fly past, another to have her land amongst you. But the spot I did tell about, it does lie out of the sight of most of the town.”
“Sounds better and better, then,” Rhodry said. “Let's be on our way. You don't want to be caught outside the walls tonight, if there are Horsekin prowling around.”
Once Rhodry had taken the supplies he needed, he and the dragon flew off, veering away from the road due north. As she watched them disappear into a vastness of sky, Dallandra felt a sudden sadness touch her, as if she were seeing him leave her for the last time. You always knew we'd part, she reminded herself. She shook the feeling off and turned to Jahdo.
“Lead on!” she said. “How far is it?”
“Well, my lady, all we truly have to do is follow this road, but as to how far, I wouldn't know, truly. I did walk this road only once in my life. But not far, that I do know.”
With the sun hanging low in the west they set off again at a brisk walk. They'd not gone more than a mile or so when Dallandra smelled rot—manure from a cow pasture, she assumed. As they rode on, though, the smell grew stronger and fouler. If it was a pasture, it had to be hip deep in filth to smell so bad. Jahdo, riding beside her, noticed it too.
“Oh my lady, what can be making that stench? It be worse than the privies in Dun Cengarn.”
“A thousand privies wouldn't be as bad, I'd say.”
Dallandra glanced back to find that Dar was holding his reins in one hand and a scrap of cloth, of the sort that normally wrapped spare arrowheads, with the other. He kept flicking it in front of Elessi's face to try to waft the stench away. Dallandra doubted that it was doing much good. The farther they rode, the worse the smell became— it had a rich warmth to it, Dallandra decided, as if the filth were being stewed over a slow fire.
“The lake!” she said abruptly. “Jahdo, didn't you tell me that your town's on a lake fed by hot springs? Do your people just toss their garbage and suchlike into it?”
“They do not, but in the river that leads out to the south. I lived there, and never did it smell like this to me.”
“That's because you lived there. When we get used to somewhat, be it a smell or a sight, we stop noticing it.”
“My town would never—” Jahdo hovered on the edge of indignation. “Although—well, my lady, there be a sudden fear on me, that you be right, especially after the long winter and all.”
Sure enough, by the time they saw the towering stone walls of Cerr Cawnen, they could tell that the stench was coming from nowhere else but the city. Enough garbage got into the lake, Dallandra supposed, to add strength to the reek that went out with the warm river. All of the Westfolk men began muttering among themselves, and Dallandra was very glad that Jahdo knew no Elvish to understand their remarks about pigs and carrion crows.
It was close to sunset by the time they reached the east gates. Above them on the wall stood a handful of men wearing chain-mail hauberks—the town watch, Dallandra assumed. When they saw the travellers they began to call out.
“A caravan! Merchants, mayhap! Leave the gates stand open a bit longer there!”
Jahdo tipped his head back and squinted.
“Kiel!” he sang out. “Kiel, it's me!”
Up on the wall a tall guardsman yelled in wordless triumph.
“My brother,” Jahdo said, and his voice was trembling.
By the time everyone had ridden through the gates, Kiel was down on the ground and waiting to greet them. Jahdo dismounted and raced to his brother's open arms with his mule and packhorse trailing after him. Dallandra tur
ned in the saddle and waved the prince over.
“We'd best dismount, don't you think?” she said. “I've no idea where to go now.”
“It would be polite,” Dar said. “Well, if you think Carra will be safe? There's quite a mob gathering.”
So there was—maybe a dozen men of the town watch had climbed down from the wall; everyone in earshot was hurrying their way; farther off, townsfolk were yelling out the news to those farther still. Dogs barked and came running, tails wagging, to join the excitement. Daralanteriel had his men dismount, but he handed the baby up to Carra and told her to stay on horseback. His men kept firm hands on the bridles of their horses. The pack mules, held loosely, began to bray and pull at their ropes every time a dog came near them.
Dallandra was just thinking that they were going to lose stock and supplies both when militiamen trotted over to lend a hand. In a flurry of quick greetings they took over the pack animals and allowed the elven men to settle their horses down. From the back of the crowd, Dallandra heard a determined sort of shouting that swept forward from person to person until she could finally understand the words.
“Let the councilmen through! Here, step aside for the councilmen!”
With their streaky-red cloaks billowing around them two men, one skinny and grey, the other blond and good-looking, were working their way through the crowd. From Niffa's descriptions Dallandra could guess that the blond was Verrarc. The older man stopped and began talking to the townsfolk, pointing with one hand and tapping someone here and there on the shoulder with the other to make the crowd move back and thin out. Verrarc, however, strode toward the group at the gates.
While she waited for him to reach her, Dallandra summoned the dweomer sight and studied his aura, an unpleasant greenish color, all shrivelled around him like a wet shirt. So this was the man who'd ensorceled Jahdo. It was hard to imagine him summoning the power to have done such a thing, but when Jahdo looked up and saw him, the boy shrank back against his older brother. Verrarc gave him a look that ached with a fear to match it, and his aura seemed to shred at the edges, suddenly grey. Dallandra hurriedly returned her sight to normal.