Chapter 19: 19. Heric

Heric explained.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The stallion complained, hinnying and whickering.

“I understand,” Heric said softly rubbing the horse’s flank.  “You were scared.”

“Is he a ziteruinaren?” Heric heard Falduin ask.

“No,” Ifonsa answered. “They just have an understanding.”

“What sort of understanding?”

“They’re friends.”

With the formalities out of the way, and acquaintances made and reunited, they set off.  

Including Rianio, there were seven horses. Six to ride, plus one they used as a pack animal.  The latter was laden with much of the food, plus the bedrolls and packs they had liberated, as Ganthe called it. They also now had enough cloaks, hoods, and travelling gear for all of them.

They rode quickly as they dared to push the horses.  There was no talking.  No details about what had happened during the night. 

Heric had briefly been told that the horses had been obtained from the bailey, and that Lera had slain some bandits, that had invaded the camp.  In turn, Ganthe had told them they had obtained the bedrolls from the bandits, but little more.  

Heric had introduced Orwic, and they had shifted around the loads to free up a mount for him, but all up they took less than a quarter hour to depart.  Heric and Ganthe had even forgone eating, despite their nagging hunger. Eating, chatting, and story-telling would all have to wait. 

 Ifonsa led them along a narrow gaming trail that wound its way amongst the fir trees.  They were in single-file, Heric following Ifonsa, then Falduin, Lera, Orwic and finally Ganthe.

However it didn’t take long for trouble to emerge. The mare Ganthe was riding kept trying to buck him off.

“I warned you,” Ganthe said.

“Stop fighting her,” Heric called back. “She’s scared.”

“So am I!”

“She can tell, and that’s scaring her even more.”

Heric rode back and manoeuvred Rianio in beside the mare. She immediately settled. 

“You’re not her lord.  You’re her friend,” Heric told Ganthe.  “Guide her.  Don’t command her.” 

“What if she doesn’t want to be my friend?”

“She does.  Look at how calm she is around Rianio.  She’s in love.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Treat her right, “ Ifonsa called, “And she’ll treat you right.”

Heric wasn’t certain that Ganthe understood, but he seemed to relax.  Soon he was leaning forward and whispering in the mare’s ear as they rode.  Eventually Heric felt confident enough to ride back toward the front of the line.

About an hour later  it began to rain. It was just a drizzle, but enough to dampen their mood.   With the exception of Orwic, they were all completely exhausted. They had very little rest, and almost no food over the last few days.  However Heric felt that distance was far more important than immediate comfort, so they pressed on.  

Privately, Heric welcomed the rain.  It might wash away their trail to all but the most skilled pursuers.  Even then, the most able trackers would be slowed to a crawl just to follow them. Most likely they wouldn’t bother.  Instead their pursuers would guess where they were headed and move fast in order to cut them off. 

They turned to the north-east, following unkempt trails leading up into rugged wolds. Occasionally, when they topped a rise, they could see tall, thickly-wooded hills in the distance especially in the north. Their ultimate destination lay there, but it was still some days away yet.  

“Are these the same horses that you sent up the river?” Falduin suddenly asked Heric.

“Apart from Rianio, no,” Heric answered.

“What happened to them?” Falduin asked, turning in his saddle to look at Orwic.

It was Ifonsa that answered however, “Perhaps the bandits ate them.”

“They’re men.  Not goblins,” Orwic said.

“I know,” Ifonsa said coolly, “That’s why some of them are still alive.”

“There was no sign of them in the town,” Heric answered.

“So what happened to them?” Falduin asked Orwic.

Orwic shrugged, “The first I knew of it, was the innkeeper telling me that they had been requisitioned. I presumed by Lord Alcaf.”

“Requisitioned?” Ganthe asked.

“Stolen,” Lera answered.

“Did they give you a promissory?” Heric asked Orwic.

“No,” Orwic said.

“Then it wasn’t Lord Alcaf.  Promissories are required by law.  Sir Helmund got in trouble during the war.  His new captain requisitioned some things he shouldn’t have.”

“His new captain being you?” Lera asked.

Heric nodded sadly.

“Lord Alcaf must have been involved somehow,” Falduin said, “Otherwise how’d he end up with Rianio?”

Heric shrugged.  He didn’t know, and wasn’t certain he wanted to find out.  Lords being involved with bandits was a terrible possibility to him.  It was almost as bad as Lord Thuoli, who had sided with the goblins in the early part of the war.  

They stopped just after midday, sheltering beneath the overhang of a cliff, wide enough that even the horses could fit easily.   The drizzle continued, almost drowning out the sounds of a nearby waterfall, as it plunged down into a stream far below.

They built no fire, and they kept their conversations muted.   This far from Harnsey they  were close to The Wilds.  Foul beasts and even fouler creatures lurked there.  It would not do to attract their attention. 

 For the first time in a long time they managed a proper meal.  As they ate they chatted, revealing what had happened in and around the town the previous night. 

“And how did you escape the town?” Lera asked Heric.

“We simply followed everyone out the north gate,” Heric said.

“Just like that?” Falduin asked.

“We looked just like them.  Orwic wanted to sneak out via the docks.”

“You looked like them,” Orwic protested. “I did not!”

“Nobody cared,” Heric said, “By the time we were outside everyone was baying for blood after what had happened to Stuska.”

“Who’s Stuska?” Lera asked.

“The witch,” Orwic answered.

“What happened after we left?” Falduin asked.

Heric turned to Ganthe, “What did you see?”

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Ganthe shrugged, “I saw them carrying someone back to town.  It might have been her.”

“Was she alive?” Falduin asked.

Ganthe shrugged again. “I don’t know. I had bigger concerns.”

“By then it had gotten completely chaotic,” Heric explained, “There were all kinds of rumours flying around:  the High Tower was attacking them;  there were Eagle Knights in the south-.”

“I might have been the cause of that one,” Lera admitted, furtively.

“Thank you.  It helped us escape. Which we did, although we had to be careful to ensure we didn’t lead them right back to the camp.”

“What about the packs?” Lera asked.

“We found them in a ditch,” Ganthe said. “They had a nice little camp set up. Of course, they had abandoned it by the time we found it, so we borrowed them.”

“Borrowed?”

“We’ll give them back if we see them again, I promise,” Ganthe said grinning broadly.

 

After their meal, Heric inspected their newly-won gear, as the rest prepared the horses. They were more poorly equipped than he had wished, but better than he hoped. They had food enough to reach Wombourne and return at least part of the way.  If they weren’t so rushed they could supplement it with hunting, fishing, and scavenging.  He hoped that the journey back to Milardus would be less hectic.

As they worked they swapped stories - mostly about the war.  All of the tales somehow ended with laughter (as war stories tend to), remembering the funny, and ridiculous. Meanwhile the moments they really needed to reveal  - the trauma, the fear, the loss - were buried deep. It emerged in other ways.

“And then Heric looks up and says, ‘can anyone see the lights on the roof?’” Ganthe said, trying to contain his laughter, “To which Trithold says, ‘It’s the night sky, you idiot.  They’re stars.’”

Everyone laughed, including Heric. “We had been down there a very long time,” he explained, then asked, “What happened to Trithold?”

“Rauhoffen,” Ganthe said, his grin dissolving.

That left an uncomfortable silence.  The joviality of the moment had lulled Heric into making a mistake.  He had leant long ago not to ask about former comrades or passing associates.  It inevitably ended with bad news.

He glanced about at his current company.  All were focused upon their tasks.  Yet he sensed that none wish to break the awkward stillness .  As Ganthe attempted to secure the saddle on his horse, Heric noticed the man’s hands trembling uncontrollably.  

Heric realised that now was the time to hurry them up.  Keeping them busy would stop them wallowing in the past.

However Ifonsa interrupted before he could utter the command. “What did you do in the war?” shes asked Orwic.

Orwic glanced around at them each in turn.  He smiled, and Heric wondered if he had been expecting the question.  Orwic told them what he had told Ganthe: that his ship had become stuck in Taachua.

“It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.  “We were all woken up by the captain in the middle of the night.  Soon as we came up on deck we saw that most of the port had frozen solid.  We were lucky.  We managed to haul our ship out of the water before it became trapped.  Others weren’t that lucky.  The ice trapped, their ships. Then it slowly crushed them, and there was nothing they could do about it.”

“Was it a spell?” Falduin asked.

“No,” Orwic scoffed. “It’s something that happens every now and again at the start of winter.  Taachua’s located just north of the Edge. A hundred leagues further south and the ice never melts. Not even during summer.  The Glyd-abt they call it. There are people that live down there.”

“Why?”

Orwic shrugged, “Perhaps the fishing is especially good.  I did hear a tale about a group that lived right at the southern tip.  They were thralls to an ice dragon.”

“Do you believe that?” Lera asked.

Once again, Orwic shrugged. “Who knows.  I’m never going down there to find out.  I’ve had enough of the ice. I prefer the heat.”

“Are you from The North?”

Orwic nodded, “North-east.”

Heric roused them.  He hoped to make good gains before nightfall.    Not just to put more distance between them and any pursuit, but also because they were at least two days behind schedule.  That could prove costly.

The rain got heavier about an hour after they set out.  Small rivulets flowed past them as they meandered through the pine and fir  trees.  The terrain became more rugged, and the trees more dense as they climbed the rise out of a valley.  

They were all miserable, their hoods and cloaks soaked utterly.  The horses didn’t appear to mind the rain, but their riders for the most part remained sullen.  Sometimes Falduin and Lera discussed, what Heric called, wizard things, but for the most part they travelled in silence. Fatigue, and the efforts of the last few days were beginning to take their toll.  

Heric noticed that even Ifonsa was beginning to feel it.  Once she had almost ridden into a chasm that had unexpectedly opened in front of her. That was not at all like her.

Topping a rise, the land beyond suddenly became more gentle, the trees replaced by low scrub. Heric edged Rianio forward, pulling in beside Ifonsa.

“Hey,” he said.

“That’s what horses eat.” Ifonsa snapped back.  “You’re still worried about the chasm.” It was a statement, not a question. A warning too, Heric realised.

“It did cross my mind.”

“We weren’t supposed to come this way.  We were supposed to cross the river, and head north.  That’s what you wanted.”

“Are you saying that you don’t know where you’re going?”  Heric said.  It slipped out.  He too was fatigued.

Ifonsa responded before he could apologise.  “I know the Tatoro is one league to our right,” she said, “and that we are more than five leagues from Harnsey.”

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that.”

Ifonsa shrugged his concern away.  “I should have seen the signs, Heric.”

“The chasm was completely hidd-“

“I meant everything: the ambush, following the tow path, at Cabridge.”  She paused then added, “It’s like I’m a blunt knife.”

“We all missed them.  Not just you,”

She patted her sorrel’s neck, “But for Röá’s quick feet I might have needed flying lessons.”

“Rooer?”

“Röá,” she corrected him.  “It means red.  That’s what they call me back home.  Because of the hair.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said. He was surprised by her revelation.  She almost never spoke of her family, beyond the exploits of her sister.  “What’s the word for white?” The question just popped into his mind.  He asked it before he could think it through.

“Pan,“ she said turning to him. “Pan and Röá.”

Heric nodded sadly.

“We should not have come this way,” Ifonsa said. “This place is dangerous filled with many unnatural things.”

“We don’t have a choice,” he said. “There’s no way across the river before Pryleah.”

“They’ll be waiting for us at Pryleah.”

“I know.  That’s why weren’t not going there.”

“How do you plan to reach Wombourne?”

“From the East.  That’s how we did it last time.”

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