Chapter 31

The three of them trudged higher. Lothryn had been right to warn them of Haldor’s Pass. This was its earliest stages and already the going was treacherous. The air was thin enough to discourage any conversation other than odd grunts and noises to check on each other. Wyl’s thoughts rested with Gueryn. As much as Lothryn believed Cailech would kill him, Wyl did not share this notion. The subtlety of Romen’s thoughts—what tiny residue was left of them—reassured him that Cailech would not kill any man who might have some value down the track.

Cailech is too shrewd, he reminded himself. Why save Gueryn? Because up until Wyl declared his knowledge of him. Gueryn was a stranger to Cailech…nothing more than a Morgravian soldier of rank, and worth the satisfaction of killing. Now, Wyl reasoned, Cailech might view him as worth saving, if just to taunt Koreldy.

All of this was hypothetical, of course. Wyl had had a premonition that his mentor was dead. None of them had any idea whether Gueryn survived the descent. The likelihood of him surviving his rampaging fever was slim enough. Still, Wyl clung to his notion that Gueryn’s spirit was stronger than his body and Cailech’s shrewdness would overcome his desire to slake his thirst for revenge. Wyl reasoned that Cailech might spare Gueryn even just to find out what he knew of where his companions had headed. At the heart of it Wyl accepted that Cailech’s real thirst was for Koreldy and, no doubt, Lothryn. Gueryn was of negligible interest against such tempting prey but if his being kept alive could help trap them, Cailech would not hesitate to use him.

He came out of his tangled private thoughts only because Elspyth had signaled a stop. She was breathing hard, ignoring the advice of Lothryn to take shallow breaths.

The Mountain Man walked back to where she had slumped on a rock.

“I need a few moments,” she begged.

Lothryn nodded. It clearly was not to his liking but he refused to waste precious breath and strength arguing. He pointed to a small circle of boulders that would offer minimal shelter but a break nonetheless from the icy wind. He helped Elspyth back to her feet and the three of them gratefully collapsed among the circle of stones.

“If you tell me to eat anything. I am going to be sick,” she haltingly cautioned, eyeing Lothryn.

“No eating. Drinking is important, though. That’s what our bodies need.”

She took small sips from the skin he offered.

“I’ve been thinking,” Wyl said, glad to be out of the wind momentarily, “does Cailech have an actual healer he trusts?”

Lothryn nodded. “More than a healer. It’s Rashlyn.”

“Ah, of course. Tell me what you know of him.”

The big man sighed. “He is dangerous, as I’ve said. In ancient times, when we were separate tribes, each had their own barshimon. The barshi, as he is known, was called upon for everything from blessing a birth to cursing an enemy. He does readings, he interprets visions, reads the Stones, he performs enchantments…and he heals.”

“You say only in ancient times.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the magics were more genuine in ancient times or, more likely. most were pretenders. In the last few centuries we’ve discovered that true sorcerers are a rarity… most people could move through a lifetime and never meet someone with the true gift of magic.”

“And Rashlyn?” Wyl asked.

“As I said, he’s the real thing. And he’s ambitious.”

“You think he’s using Cailech.”

Lothryn nodded. “I know it, and none of it towards good.”

Elspyth joined in. “I heard one of the women use the word barshi against me when I came looking for you at the time of your son’s birth.” She instantly regretted mentioning his baby.

Lothryn smiled sadly. “Yes, barshi can also be used as a way of calling down darkness… bad things. They needed something to blame for my wife’s death. You were an easy target… and a stranger.”

“So Rashlyn is barshi to Cailech?” Wyl reasoned.

“He is barshi to the united Mountain Kingdom,” Lothryn admitted.

“You don’t sound approving,” Wyl risked, already knowing it to be true.

“I hate him. He has no soul. I have wished all too often that Cailech had not aligned himself with a man of such darkness.”

Wyl nodded. He would store away this knowledge. “But he is a healer?”

“Yes. I can see where you’re headed with this conversation. Koreldy. You believe Cailech will spare Gueryn’s life… save it. in fact, with powerful healings of the barshi?”

“You read my thoughts well!”

“You are as easy to read as a book when you’re being this Wyl Thirsk person. If you are to outwit Cailech you need to be Romen through and through.” Lothryn counselled.

“He’s right.” Elspyth admitted. She smiled. “Now that Loth mentions it, you do flit between personalities. I can believe there are two of you. As Wyl you seem naked, too honest.”

Wyl considered what they said. “Wise words. I must learn from them.”

“If it’s any consolation. Rashlyn has the power to save Gueryn if Cailech permits it. But what he is being saved for he may prefer to escape through death.” Lothryn added. “Cailech will go this way only if he can benefit.”

“He can,” Wyl said. “He can lure me back.”

“Romen, no!” Elspyth shouted. “Gueryn chose. He gave his life to save you. The two of us aside, he wanted you to get away. You make his sacrifice worthless if you consider returning.”

“I don’t mean to turn back now,” Wyl reassured her. “I just have a feeling that Gueryn will be preserved for the one reason that it might bring Koreldy back to Cailech’s fortress. I was so transparent at the feast. It was obvious I knew Gueryn well and cared for him. Cailech’s too wily to not notice such things.”

Lothryn nodded. “He misses nothing.”

“Then if Gueryn is alive—and I choose to believe he is—I think he will remain a prisoner to entice Cailech’s enemy back.”

“If you believe this, then you must not fall for such a plan.” Elspyth reasoned.

“I won’t. I promise,” Wyl said but his glance at Lothryn said differently.

“We must press on,” Lothryn cautioned and wearily they hauled themselves back to their feet and stepped out into the biting wind. “Use your hood tails,” Lothryn shouted against the howl. “Wrap them about your mouths. You must keep the icy air from entering as best you can.” They followed his lead. “One more thing,” he cautioned. “We’re entering zerkon territory. We must be wary.”

The first indication that one or more of the beasts were near came some time later when Lothryn, becoming suddenly rigid, stopped and smelled the air swirling about them.

“What?” Wyl mouthed, careful not to make a sound.

“Zerkon,” Lothryn replied in the same manner.

Elspyth’s expression queried how he could know this.

“The stench.” he whispered. “Can you smell it?”

They both lifted their noses and inhaled. A vague waft of something musty and unpleasant crossed their senses and they nodded.

“Not close enough to threaten yet. But if we can smell him. trust me that he can smell us. He will stalk us.”

“What can we do?” Elspyth asked.

“Distance is all we have,” Lothryn admitted. “But if he signals any others…”

He opted to say no more.

“Let’s go,” Wyl said and took the lead, setting a rattling pace.

Cailech’s tracking group had made good ground on horseback but the terrain was fast becoming too precarious for their precious animals. They did not know it yet but they were getting close to their prey, who had been laboring for a much longer distance at a slower pace.

“They’ve passed this way—and recently,” the leader called back to his second-in-command. He scrutinized the footprints and broken stems of nearby bushes where the trio had rested in the circle of boulders just a short while ago. “Send a bird,” he said. “Let the King know they’re in Haldor’s Pass and we’re following.”

The man he spoke to nodded. “Immediately.”

Myrt, close friend of Lothryn, turned back and squinted into the snowcapped Razors. He despised leading this mission, knowing how it must end. But he hated more Lothryn’s betrayal and the fact that his own loyalty was now being called into question. It was no coincidence that Cailech specifically picked him out for this task. The King was testing Myrt’s faithfulness to the tribe.

Myrt grimaced at the thought. “Hobble the horses, we’re on foot from here,” he ordered.

Wyl and Lothryn were just hauling Elspyth up a slippery series of rocks when they heard a sound that made Lothryn almost let go of her hand.

“That’s our zerkon. He’s calling in another. They often hunt in pairs.”

“How close?” Wyl asked, dragging Elspyth up onto the flatter ground.

“Too close. No longer any use fleeing, they’re much faster and sure-footed than us.”

“Can we hide?” Elspyth gasped, still out of breath.

“No point,” was the terse reply.

“Right then,” Wyl said, shedding his pack and dragging the blue sword from the sheath he now wore across his back. Instinctively he touched the knives at his chest. “So we stand and fight.”

Lothryn dropped his pack onto the ground and brought out a crossbow.

“I’ve been wondering what you carried in there,” Wyl admitted.

“This might be more effective than your beautiful weapon,” Lothryn said.

The men shared a knowing smile, one shared universally by soldiers needing bravado to go into battle.

“What was that thing you called out to Gueryn?” Lothryn asked.

“As one…Thirsk family motto and war cry,” Wyl said proudly.

“As one, then, Wyl Thirsk,” Lothryn said and they stood back-to-back, watchful. “He won’t strike immediately. If there’s two, they’ll watch us for a while.”

“Elspyth, you hide,” Wyl ordered.

“No point apparently. Give me a blade!” she replied.

“No!” Lothryn was determined. “We’re enough to satisfy them. You hide for now and then you run the moment you get your chance. Don’t you dare cross me on this.”

Lothryn’s glare was enough to dissuade her from arguing further. She grabbed their sacks and backed into a depression in the rockface.

And so the two men found themselves alone on a freezing plateau, awaiting sure death.

“I’ve been meaning to say something about your son, Lothryn. I’m sorry you’ve had to leave him.”

“He’s in good hands.”

Wyl should have left it at that but, embarrassed by his inept first attempt at raising the subject, he pressed on. “I fear we’ve forced you into making the most damning of all choices. Blood should come before duty.”

There was a difficult silence before Lothryn spoke again. “He’s not blood.” the man said in a soft voice.

The words hit Wyl like a blow and he was glad they stood with their backs to each other, eyes roaming the rocks for any sign of the beasts. His pause gave Lothryn the opportunity to fill it.

“He’s not my son. My wife birthed him as ours but he was sired by another. Duty came ahead of blood.” the man of the Mountains admitted.

Wyl was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I regret it but I permitted my wife to be used in this fashion. Perhaps I am making amends now for bad judgment.”

“I don’t understand.” Wyl said.

“He is from Cailech’s seed.”

“What!”

“I’ve never told anyone. I hate myself for being so weak and allowing Cailech his way. You shared your secret with me. I will do the same with you. Cailech made me promise I would swear it was the death of our first two babes that soured our marriage but it was nothing of the kind. If anything after such tragedy we felt closer than ever, more committed to each other. Ertyl saw my capitulation to Cailech as betrayal. She accused me of many things, the most hurtful. I suppose, was the most truthful—that I was his puppet. She said I had no mind of my own. And that made me less of a man in her eyes.”

“Why would you permit such a thing?” Wyl knew he should not ask it of Lothryn but the words tumbled out.

“My King demanded it for the line. Ertyl’s father was the strongest of the tribal leaders before Cailech united them. He believes in lineage. His family blood and Ertyl’s family blood would make a powerful mix.”

“Cailech strikes me as too intelligent, respectful—loyal even—to ask such a thing.”

This time Lothryn grunted, although Wyl could not see the twisted set of his face. “It wasn’t his idea, of course.”

“Oh, Shar’s Wrath!” Wyl cursed, understanding dawning. “Rashlyn?”

“He advised—he had a vision—and Cailech followed it.”

“So the boy is where?”

“He was taken from me. Cailech wants him raised away from my influence. He will keep the child close—be his father. I would have loved him as my own. because he came from Ertyl. When he was taken from me on the day of his birth something snapped…and then the feast and the events surrounding it gave me the excuse I needed, I suppose.”

“To strike back, you mean?”

“Well…to let him know I am my own man. He took too much from me—my wife died because of him. And my son is now motherless.”

“What is the child’s name?”

“He is called Aydrech…golden warrior.”

“We shall stay alive. Lothryn, and we shall see the boy grown. I promise.”

The Mountain Man grunted but before he could say what he intended they were spotted by Myrt and others, who were climbing up the escarpment to where they stood.

“Lothryn!” Myrt cried. “Traitor!”

“Run, Elspyth!” Lothryn screamed. “You too, Wyl, it’s our only chance.”

They heard Elspyth take flight like a startled deer and leap from her hiding spot, crashing down the ridge into the undergrowth below.

Wyl refused. “We face this together.”

At that moment, the zerkons leapt down from their vantage point above the plateau and pandemonium broke out.

It was a bloodbath. The zerkons’ long and agile bodies landed with the greatest of ease. Their white coats were striped with a dark brown, a brilliant camouflage in this environment. Yellow eyes sat above vast snarling mouths; their paws were huge and their spines strong enough to support them on two legs if need be. The daunting razorlike teeth were intimidating enough, but a barb on the tip of their strong, swishing tails that could inject a fast-acting paralyzing poison completed what was arguably the most effective killing beast Wyl could imagine.

Momentarily stunned by their arrival, he could only watch as the duo instantly killed two of the men with teeth and barb. Another two who rushed toward them with swords met a similar fate.

“They should know better,” Lothryn said almost conversationally as he slowly went about the business of loading his crossbow with a mean-looking bolt. “Myrt!” he called calmly. “Use bows!”

Myrt nodded and began barking orders, rallying the remaining men as another went to his sods.

“Wyl.” Lothryn spoke softly. Wyl could hardly tear his eyes from the carnage. “You must go. Fight on for another day. Take Elspyth. You’ll come out at a place we call Straplyn—a narrow deer track leading into your realm. Get into Morgravia to safety.”

“Lothryn, I can kill these men now! I can give us a fighting chance.”

“No! This is the right way. No killing of my people. Go—before they even realize you’ve gone. Save her for me. They won’t kill me. Wyl. Cailech will want that pleasure for himself. I’m not afraid.”

Myrt looked back. “Hurry, Loth, loose that bow!”

A man screamed as an zerkon ripped into his flesh. Wyl saw carrion birds begin to hover as words sunk in.

“He will torture you!”

“He has nothing to get from me. No. He won’t torture. But he will make me pay somehow. Please. Wyl…escape, for all of us. Make this count.”

It was the big man calling him Wyl that broke the spell. Lothryn saw his words get through and took the opportunity. He pushed Wyl away and ran toward his friend Myrt. Side by side once again they fired death bolts toward the animals as men died about them. Wyl finally turned and ran. hating himself. No one noticed him leave the wind-riddled escarpment…no one cared right now. Except Wyl. He made a promise that he would return. Return one day to claim back Gueryn and Lothryn if they were alive and if not. he would seek terrible revenge on the King of the Mountains.

Eighteen men died that day on the escarpment. The zerkons were riddled with bolts before they too fell. Only four of the Mountain Dwellers could claim to have outlived an zerkon attack.

Myrt finally turned to Lothryn. “We are to bring you back alive.”

“I thought as much.”

“You let him go. of course.”

“Yes. I’m glad I got him this far.”

“Why, Loth?” Lothryn knew Myrt was not referring to Koreldy’s escape.

“Oh, it’s complicated, my friend. Don’t immerse yourself in the web. Stay pure. Stay true to the tribe.” Lothryn offered his wrists and Myrt reluctantly nodded toward one of the others to bind them. “Did the Morsravian soldier live?”

“Cailech spared him for reasons he keeps to himself.”

Lothryn felt a twinge of satisfaction that Wyl had been right. “And me? Is there a plan?”

“I’m not sure any of us would want to know it. Loth.” his friend admitted sadly.