A VOICE IN THE DARK

Karigan and Fergal settled down behind a cluster of boulders to keep watch. Not that they could see much in the dark, but moonlight pooled in the clearing that was the Teligmar Crossroads, and they’d be able to detect any movement there. Their initial inspection of the area showed no sign of a trap; turned up nothing, really, and so they hid the horses and found this spot for themselves. If Timas Mirwell wasn’t playing some joke on them, they were in a good position to see whatever it was they were supposed to see.

They took turns keeping watch while the other slept. Karigan dozed uneasily, her back at an uncomfortable angle against a rock. Her mind chattered endlessly, debating with itself as to what it was Timas thought she’d “want” to see, and why. Did it have something to do with Beryl? He indicated he knew why they’d come to Mirwellton—to make contact with Beryl.

Just as Karigan’s mind settled and it seemed she might get some rest after all, Fergal gently shook her wrist.

“Whaaa—?” she began.

“Shhh. Someone’s coming.”

All at once Karigan was fully alert and upright, peering into the dark. Five riders approached through the woods, halting short of the crossroads by several yards.

“Clay,” a man said, “I want you to go on ahead and take a look around.”

“Aye,” one of them replied, and he urged his horse away from the others, heading for the crossroads.

The first speaker then turned in his saddle to address the others. “Jeremy, you’re with me. Whittle, you are to stay here with the lady.” He and the rider named Jeremy left Whittle and “the lady” behind, guiding their horses toward the crossroads but halting just at the edge of the road, remaining within the cover of the woods. They sat there, apparently waiting. Waiting for what?

Karigan wondered if “the lady” seated on the white horse might be Beryl. But she didn’t think Beryl would be riding sidesaddle. Perplexed, she whispered to Fergal, “I’m taking a closer look. You stay here.”

Before he could protest, she called upon her ability to fade and stepped out from behind their cluster of boulders. She crept toward Whittle and the lady as silently as possible. When she got near enough to identify features, she almost gasped aloud. She hastened back to Fergal and behind the boulders, dropping the fading.

“That’s Lady Estora on the white horse,” Karigan told him without preamble. “Her hands are bound—she’s a prisoner.”

Fergal’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“We’ve got to act,” Karigan told him, “and we’ve got to act quickly. That’s our future queen being held captive, and we have no idea of what’s about to happen to her. I need your help, Fergal. Will you do exactly as I ask? I’m going to be asking a lot of you.”

There was a slight hesitation before Fergal nodded. “Aye. Anything. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Karigan smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You wanted our errand to be more exciting, eh? Well I guess it is now. All right, here’s what we’re going to do. The darkness will be our friend…”

In the moonlight, Estora saw before her an intersection of roads with a signpost in its center. She could not, however, read the lettering for it was too dark and too distant. Sarge ordered her and Whittle to remain several yards under cover of the woods. He sent Clay off to do his usual scouting while Jeremy waited with him just off the road. Waiting. Waiting for what? Or for whom?

Falan shook her mane, the silver of her bridle jingling. She was as restless as Estora felt.

Thunk.

Both she and Whittle glanced into the woods at the unbidden noise.

“What was that?” Estora asked him.

He scratched his head. “Nothing, most like.”

Crack. The unmistakable snap of a branch.

“Animal, I reckon,” Whittle said. He gazed toward Sarge and Jeremy, but they had not moved, had not seemed to hear the noise.

They sat and waited for a while more, then, Thump! Crack!

“Damnation,” Whittle muttered. “Better make sure it’s not your hero. You will stay here, m’lady. Do not move a muscle. Understand? You know what Sarge will do.”

Estora nodded. She knew. But there was a fluttering in her stomach as Whittle reined his horse away. Could the noise belong to an animal, or her “hero,” whoever he was?

“Shhh.”

Estora sat straight in her saddle, looking desperately around but seeing nothing. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

“It’s me, Karigan,” a disembodied voice whispered.

Estora was so startled she could not speak. Karigan? Where? And what in the name of all the gods was she doing here? She sounded so close, but Estora could not see her. And it was her voice; of that she was certain.

“Karigan—” she whispered.

“Shhh. Don’t say anything, no matter what happens,” Karigan said in a low, urgent voice. “Don’t make a sound. I’m standing at your horse’s left shoulder, but I’m faded out. Using my special ability.”

Estora peered at the location but saw nothing, and she recalled the scene in the throne room of the castle two years past and the demonstration of Karigan’s ability. She had even made King Zachary vanish from sight.

“I’ve already made you and your horse fade out,” Karigan whispered. “I’m going to lead you away. All right? No one will see you, except me. Remember, make no sounds.”

Invisible hands took Falan’s reins and turned her about, leading her deeper into the woods. Estora did not feel invisible, and when she looked down at herself and Falan, she seemed as visible as she should in the dark of morning. She could only trust in Karigan.

Then it began to sink in. Karigan was helping her escape! She was so relieved, so overjoyed, that her tears almost washed away her self-imposed dams. The hero Sarge and his fellows had worried about was actually Karigan! How could she contain herself? But she must so no one would detect their departure.

She glanced over her shoulder. Sarge and Jeremy were lost to sight, but she could still discern Whittle, standing in his stirrups, straining to see into the dark in the opposite direction. A flash of silver arced toward him, and he slumped in the saddle and fell from his horse. He did not move. Estora put her hand to her mouth to forestall a gasp. She thought she observed someone move near Whittle’s body, but then the scene fell out of sight as Falan stepped into dense growth.

They came to a stream and here Karigan led Falan into it and downstream. “There’s enough flowing water,” she explained, “to fill in the hoof prints with silt.”

At one point they traveled beneath an opening in the canopy and moonlight showered down through it, glinting on the stream and revealing a ghostly figure leading Falan, one pale hand on the mare’s neck. Estora caught her breath, but in the next instant, as they passed from the moonlight, Karigan vanished from existence once more.

Estora longed to break the silence, to make Karigan real—to make all this real, for this slow ride in the dark, with a phantom for a savior, made her feel as if she were caught in some unending dream.

Falan clambered out of the stream, up the bank, and deeper into the woods. Karigan reversed their direction of travel so many times, as if walking a labyrinth Estora could not see, that she became thoroughly disoriented. She guessed Karigan hoped it would likewise confuse anyone who came searching for them.

As time went on, the terrain became rocky, and boulders the size of small cottages lay about the woods. As they picked their way among them, dawn began to lighten the morning, and as it did so, Karigan the ghost was gradually revealed to her once again.

Karigan sighed and solidified, her flesh and clothing taking on color, though muted by the weak light.

“We’re no longer faded out,” Karigan said. She sounded weary, and rubbed her temple as if her head pained her. “Bear with me for a few moments more and remain silent.”

Estora nodded, though she was ready to abandon all restraint and leap off Falan’s back and hug Karigan. She was free!

They came to the bottom of a rockfall that must have been calamitous when it happened. The boulders were jumbled this way and that, creating a primeval, natural wall at the bottom of a cliff. The going became more difficult for Falan as she walked over the boulders, but then Karigan angled her approach toward the rockfall and an opening to a cavelike shelter appeared. If they had not approached it just so, one would never know it existed.

Inside, a shaft of brightening light fell through a gap near the back of the cave and she saw two horses there, one of which she recognized as Condor. He nickered quietly in greeting while the other horse seemed content to snooze.

Karigan led Falan right into the cave. The floor was gravelly. Silently Karigan helped Estora dismount, then drew her knife to cut her bonds. The tears finally came. Estora wiped her eyes, and then rubbed her wrists, raw from the cords.

“Are you…are you all right, my lady?” Karigan asked her.

“Am I all right?” Estora started laughing and crying at once, thoroughly discarding her usual aloof composure, and hugged Karigan who received her stiffly. “Oh thank you, thank you for taking me away from those awful men!” When she released Karigan, she saw the Rider’s eyes were wide.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Karigan said. “Look, we need to talk, as I’m just as surprised to see you as you were to see me. I’d like to know what the five hells is going on.”

“You mean you didn’t know I was abducted?”

“No idea. I’ve been on the road.” Karigan winced, closed her eyes with a groan and rubbed her temple again.

“Karigan?”

“Headache. It’ll pass. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of your horse.”

Estora did not know how she was supposed to make herself comfortable in this place, but she found a flat rock to sit on and continued to work on bringing life back to her wrists and hands.

Karigan, meanwhile, untacked Falan and rubbed her down, then took her to the back of the cave with the other horses where apparently there was a spring for them to drink from. As Karigan worked, she kept glancing toward the cave entrance as if she expected someone to appear there at any moment. When she finished with Falan, she strode to the entrance and peered out, hands on her hips, and muttering to herself about “that boy.”

When she returned, she asked, “Do you need food or water?”

Estora broke down again, and Karigan stood by looking helpless, which made Estora laugh through her tears, and only made Karigan look more perplexed.

“I’m just grateful,” Estora said, sniffing, “to be free.” She blotted her eyes with her sleeve. “It was awful.”

Karigan sank down on a nearby rock and asked in a low voice, “Did…did they harm you?”

“No, not really. I was just terribly frightened. I did not know their intent.”

Karigan nodded as though she understood, and Estora was certain she did. “Well, you’re free of them now, but I have to warn you we’re not out of danger. Given time and persistence on their part, they’ll most likely find this place.”

“What shall we do?” Estora asked.

Karigan flipped her braid over her shoulder and glanced at the cave entrance. “I’m not exactly sure. For now, we wait for Fergal to return, and while we do, I think you should tell me how you ended up in the clutches of those thugs, and then I’ll tell you how I came to be here myself.”

Estora obeyed, beginning—hesitantly so—with her desire to escape the castle. As she poured out her story, Karigan made a few short comments marking, without surprise, the presence of the Eletians outside Sacor City, musing that she did not recall meeting or hearing of a Lord Amberhill, and uttering surprise at the part taken by the Raven Mask in the abduction and of his subsequent demise. To the rest she listened quietly and raptly until the end, and remained silent for some moments after.

“So we don’t know their exact purpose in taking you,” Karigan said.

Estora shook her head. “They would tell me nothing. I can only expect they wished to obtain a large ransom for my release.”

“Perhaps.”

“But come, you were to tell me your part of the tale.”

“Yes, but it is not as long as yours,” Karigan said. “The short of it is that Fergal—he’s a new Rider—and I were in Mirwellton on king’s business to see the lord-governor, which we did yesterday. Later, as Fergal and I sat in the common room of our inn, Lord Mirwell’s steward—” and here Karigan’s face showed clear distaste “—smuggled to us a note from Lord Mirwell that we’d see something of interest at the Teligmar Crossroads at dawn. I must say, it was not you, my lady, I was expecting to see.”

Teligmar! Now the small mountains Estora had seen made sense, and she finally had an idea of where she was. As for who Karigan expected to see? She did not explain.

“Naturally I was suspicious of the note,” Karigan said, “so I made certain Fergal and I arrived well before dawn. We scouted the area out, and expecting possible trouble, we established this as our hiding spot. We then returned to the crossroads on foot and hid ourselves and waited. The rest you know.” She paused, deep in thought. “I’ve no idea what game is being played, or what part Lord Mirwell has in it, but it is clear to me Mirwellton is no safe haven for you. We will have to find refuge for you elsewhere.”

Karigan hardly finished her sentence when Condor whickered, followed by the sound of rocks clacking outside. Karigan leaped to her feet, sword bared, and faced the cave entrance.

Estora rose, not sure what to do. Was this Sarge or one of his men coming to reclaim her? Had they been found already? She wilted back to her rock in relief when a young man in a green uniform appeared in the entrance. He leaned against the rock wall breathing hard, his hair tousled. Estora relaxed even more when Karigan sheathed her saber.

“Where have you been?” Karigan demanded, looking simultaneously aggrieved and happy to see him.

The young man, who could be none other than Fergal, entered the cave and found a rock of his own to sit on. “Up a tree,” he said. “Hiding.”

“Were you followed?”

Fergal shook his head. He looked dazed, and to Estora’s mind, much too young to be doing such dangerous work. “I made sure,” he said. “No one followed.” Then he looked at his hands. “I–I killed that man.”

Estora’s heart went out to him. No wonder he looked dazed. Lost even.

“I know,” Karigan said. “I saw him fall. You did well, Fergal. You helped Lady Estora get free of those men.”

He looked up, as if noticing Estora for the first time. He started to rise from his rock. “M–my lady—”

“Sit, Rider,” she said. And she herself rose and took his young hands into hers and said, “Thank you. Thank you for your help.”

Karigan cleared her throat. “Fergal Duff, meet your future queen.”

Fergal’s mouth dropped open and he tried to stammer something, but Estora simply smiled and gave his hands a squeeze, and returned to her seat. Only then did Karigan sit again herself.

“What happened,” Karigan asked, “after you killed the man?”

Fergal swallowed hard. “I caught his horse and tied it to a tree so it wouldn’t run off and alert the others. Like you told me.

“And then,” he said, “I got my knife out…out of the body.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “I was going to hurry back, but as I was starting to make my way, more men joined the two at the crossroads. They talked a bit, and one of them called for the man I killed. I tried to get out of there, really I did, but when they realized something was wrong, they were all over the place. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, except in a tree. No one thinks to look up. Once they found the dead man, they searched all around, and I snuck away.”

“How many men?” Karigan asked.

Fergal scratched his head. “Maybe ten all told, but they sent one for reinforcements to help with the search.”

Karigan’s face turned grim, but her words were soft. “Well done, Fergal, well done.”

“What are we to do?” Estora asked.

“Rest for a while,” Karigan said. “Rest and think.”

Karigan and Fergal gathered together some of their food supplies for a belated breakfast and for Estora it was nearly a feast even though Karigan would not light a fire, fearing their foes would easily spy the smoke. Afterward, Estora washed her face in the icy spring. She shivered, but was exultant to wash away days of grime.

She finished feeling renewed, but weary, and found Fergal curled up in a bedroll, snoring softly. Another was spread out nearby.

“You may use my bedroll to rest,” Karigan said.

“What about you?”

“I’m going to keep watch. I’ll wake Fergal when I’m ready for a nap.”

Estora nodded and made herself as comfortable as she could among the rocks. She struggled to fall asleep for a time, but when finally the warmth of the cocooning blankets and her sense of safety lulled her to the edge of sleep, the last thing she saw was Karigan sitting in the cave entrance cross-legged with saber bare across her lap, the sun gilding the crown of her brown hair with gold.

Estora was dreaming of sailing on the bay in her father’s sloop on a warm summer’s eve, the lowering sun sparking off the crests of waves and absorbing the silhouettes of other vessels into the golden dazzle when the rocking motion of the sloop turned into someone shaking her awake.

“My lady,” Karigan said, “I have a plan.”

Estora sat up, groggy and disoriented, wondering what Karigan was doing on her father’s sloop, then saw the rock walls and remembered. She pushed her hair away from her face and found Fergal wrapped in his blankets and looking as sleepy as she felt. Karigan had not made him take his turn at watch after all. She sat on a rock before them, looking tired, but fully aware. Behind her, the cave entrance had darkened with the change in the sun’s slant. Afternoon. How late, Estora did not know.

“There are several men out in the woods,” Karigan said.

“You went out there?” Fergal asked in incredulity.

“I didn’t need to.”

“They’re that close by?”

Karigan nodded. “We cannot wait till cover of dark. They’ll find us before then. And in any case, I don’t…I don’t think I could make all of us fade out at once.”

“We’re trapped?” Estora asked, her voice sounding more shrill than she intended.

Karigan gazed at her with an expression that was oddly serene. “It won’t come to that.”

When she told them her plan, both Fergal and Estora begged her to consider otherwise, but she would not hear of it. Estora thought her mad, and told her so.