Firebrand

  “Everything all right?” Estral asked her.

  “It will be if you give me one of those muffins.”

  Estral gazed askance at her, but dug into one of her saddlebags and produced a muffin for her. They rode on, Karigan nibbling at her muffin and thinking that yes, things were all right. As all right as they ever got for her.

  • • •

  That night, as they sat in camp, Karigan observed Estral writing in her journal, using the light of Enver’s muna’riel to see by. She wondered just what Estral found to write about. Enver, meanwhile, was wandering out in the woods as was his custom.

  For her part, Karigan engrossed herself in oiling her swords and longknife. Two swords still felt excessive to her when she was so used to just one, but she had to admit she liked having them both. By the time she was done and had sheathed them, she noticed that Estral had closed her journal and was staring into the fire. Enver emerged from the woods and into their campsite, his expression serene.

  “Little cousin,” he said, “would you like to try singing tonight?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Estral replied.

  Enver nodded in acceptance. The silver light of the muna’riel cast him into a being of ethereal beauty, not uncommon for Eletians, but he had always seemed more earthly to Karigan, of a simpler, more common nature. He’d been inquisitive about his surroundings in the castle, but out in the woods he was more in his element, quieter, mysterious. Who was this Eletian in whom they’d placed so much trust? They had time to find out, Karigan supposed.

  Remembering the box Captain Mapstone had given her, she asked, “Anyone want a Dragon Dropping?”

  Enver turned toward her, looking concerned. “Galadheon, those should be saved for dire need.”

  Estral, who had apparently never witnessed an Eletian in the presence of chocolate before, looked surprised.

  “Chocolate,” Karigan said, “may have some restorative effect on Eletians, but for the rest of us, it’s just dessert.”

  “Perhaps,” Enver replied, “but I still think it may be wise to save it until there is dire need.”

  Leave it to an Eletian, Karigan thought, to turn eating chocolate into so grave an affair.

  ELI CREEK STATION

  The next day brought much of the same, the gray-green woods, the quiet, until the clouds thickened and sent down, first, rain, then sharp sleet. The sleet scratched at Karigan’s hood, and she was thankful for the flaps of her new greatcoat that kept her legs dry. Clumps of wet snow dropped on them from boughs above. It made Coda and Bane uneasy, but Condor was resigned, his head hung low. Even Mist shook her mane as though disgruntled.

  When the sleet turned back to rain, a fog rose up from the ground, billowing among the tree trunks. Enver’s mare, Mist, so aptly named, faded into the vapor, Enver only slightly more visible. Even Estral, just ahead, grew indistinct behind the layers of gauzy veils of fog that fell between them.

  At what Karigan guessed to be midday, they huddled beneath the shielding boughs of a white pine to rest the horses and eat dried rations.

  “I knew there was a reason why I didn’t like travel,” Estral grumbled.

  She looked miserable with a runny nose and damp tendrils of hair sticking to her cheeks. Karigan didn’t imagine she looked much better. Enver, in contrast, was unperturbed and undisheveled.

  “When I find my father,” Estral continued, “I am returning to Selium and never leaving again.”

  Karigan wondered what Alton would think of that plan. She was about to ask when a chilling howl rose up somewhere nearby in the woods. It was answered by another from a different location. There was a third distinct howl from somewhere behind them.

  “Wolves?” Estral asked.

  “Groundmites,” Karigan replied. Immediately she unbuckled her swordbelt with the saber and longknife and thrust it into Estral’s hands.

  “What—?”

  “Put it on,” Karigan said. “You told me you were doing some arms training. You may need a sword.”

  Estral looked terrified. She’d probably never even seen a groundmite before. “What about you?”

  “I have my longsword and the bonewood.”

  “We must hasten,” Enver said, and Mist came right to him, though Bane stamped nervously.

  “Put it on,” Karigan ordered Estral, and went to Condor to tighten his girth and mount. She’d the longsword strapped to her saddle. The bonewood was harnessed across her back.

  Estral had difficulty mounting her skittish horse with a sword girded at her side, so Karigan sidled Condor along Coda so he wouldn’t swing away. When finally she was up, Enver led them out, with arrow nocked to bow string, guiding Mist with only cues from his legs.

  When the horses were once again warmed up, Enver increased their pace to a trot, hooves churning and splashing through slushy snow. Karigan pushed her hood off despite the sting of icy rain, so her hearing and the peripheral vision of her one good eye were not hampered. Periodically the yowling wailed through the woods, sometimes farther away, sometimes closer at hand, but always around them. They were being stalked.

  Karigan clenched her teeth as ice water runneled off her hair and down her neck. She rubbed her eye clear and darted glances into the woods. Sometimes she thought she saw movement, but it could have been just the fog undulating among the branches and trunks and underbrush.

  A cry came very close from her right side, and suddenly they were racing ahead in a full-on dash. Karigan and Condor were pelted by clods of snow from Coda’s hooves ahead. She shielded her face, peering around her hand to make sure Estral was all right. Enver and Mist were dragging poor Bane along, his burdens bouncing on his back. They could not keep up this pace for long. The Eletian path might be easier than others, but the weather had made it slick, and the horses labored to keep upright.

  It was not long before Enver pulled up and turned to speak to them. Karigan reined Condor alongside Coda. Estral’s cheeks were red and her eyes wide. Her knuckles were white from clenching Coda’s reins. Steam rose from all the horses.

  “We may have to make a stand,” Enver said.

  As if to punctuate his statement, more howls chorused through the woods, carried eerily to them by the damp air. Estral visibly trembled, the color draining from her face.

  “We need to choose the place,” Karigan replied.

  “It may be,” Enver said, glancing over his shoulder, “there is a place. Maybe even a refuge. It is made conspicuous by its desire not to be noticed.”

  “A place made what?”

  “We will try to reach it before we exhaust the horses,” he said. He unclipped Bane’s lead rope.

  “What are you doing?” Karigan demanded.

  “Mist will tell Bane what to do,” Enver said. “Our hands will be too busy to—”

  A projectile whizzed past Karigan’s face and smashed into a nearby tree, followed by a second that skimmed over her head. In a motion almost faster than she could follow, Enver answered with a pair of his own arrows. An inhuman scream pierced the woods.

  And then they were off again at a gallop. Poor Bane lagged with his short legs and heavy packs, but he followed. More arrows fell about them. One stuck in Karigan’s message satchel. They careened through the trees, and suddenly Coda’s feet flew out from beneath him, and he and Estral went down.

  Damnation. Karigan hauled Condor to a halt and threw herself off his back. Coda staggered to his feet, but Estral sat dazed in the snow shaking her head. Mist turned on her haunches, and Enver loosed arrows into the woods.

  Karigan knelt beside Estral. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m alive. Fell clear.”

  “Good. You need to—”

  Hulking figures rushed out of the fog. Karigan’s hand went to her hip before she remembered Estral had her saber and that her longsword was strapped to her saddle. She reached
Condor’s side and drew it just in time to block a blow from a rusty broadsword. Several groundmites circled them. They were almost human in shape, but were covered in patchy fur and possessed mobile, catlike ears. The groundmites looked emaciated beneath their rags and pelts. Hunger made them ferocious.

  Karigan dispatched the first, and Condor kicked a second in the gut. She heard Enver clashing with another. She fought to keep herself between the groundmites and Estral.

  One swung a stout branch at her. She ducked and slid her sword between its ribs. Another swiped at her with its claws and nothing else. She danced around it, slipping in the snow.

  “Karigan!” Estral cried.

  Karigan was grabbed around the chest from behind and lifted off her feet. She kicked out at a groundmite in front of her, and it stumbled backward. Fetid breath gusted wetly past her ear from the one that held her; then it screamed and dropped her. Karigan whirled to see Estral on her knees, longknife in her hand dripping blood. The groundmite hopped on one foot and mewled piteously. Karigan dispatched it with a quick thrust and spun in time to kill another.

  Then she stopped, glanced around, breathing hard. Enver severed the head off a groundmite and there was silence.

  “Quickly,” Enver said, “there are more out there. Mount up. We must ride fast before they gather their courage.”

  Karigan caught Coda’s reins. The horse was panicked and she had no idea why he hadn’t run off. He half-reared and pulled away until Mist whinnied sharply. He then stood still, trembling, and tolerated Estral to mount.

  By the time Karigan had her foot in the stirrup to swing up on Condor, more ululating howls and yips ripped through the woods. When she was in the saddle, they launched into another run, arrows flying after them. More groundmites leaped out of the woods at them, and Karigan and Enver cut them down. Condor trampled another. Poor Bane, once again lagging, kicked at one that grasped at him.

  Enver turned in his saddle, arrow nocked and aimed. For a moment, Karigan thought he meant to impale her, but his arrow sailed a whisker’s breadth past her shoulder and took out a groundmite that had appeared behind her.

  The nightmarish scramble continued, Karigan not knowing how much the damp on her face was from rain and sleet or sweat. Enver suddenly reined Mist sharply from the course they’d been on, onto tougher terrain. Karigan hacked at another groundmite that jumped in front of Condor.

  They drove through a thicket of close-growing spruce and fir, the horses plowing through the sharp-needled boughs until they emerged into a clearing. A tingling sensation flowed over Karigan, and she sat up in surprise. Enver pulled Mist to a halt.

  “We have made it,” he said.

  Poor Bane came crashing through the woods up beside them moments later, his sides heaving.

  The howling of the remaining groundmites still filled the woods.

  “Made it where?” Estral asked. “They are still all around us.”

  “They will not bother us,” Karigan said, smiling. She pointed across the clearing to where a dilapidated cabin stood with an adjoining paddock. Enver had found a Rider waystation.

  • • •

  When Estral dismounted, she fell to the ground and sat there looking dazed.

  “Estral!” Karigan swung off Condor and went to her friend. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  She was trembling hard, though, and her eyes shone with tears. It was the shock of battle, Karigan thought. Estral was pretty tough, but she’d never faced battling groundmites before and running for her life. Karigan helped her up and led her toward the cabin. The top step was clear of snow and dry beneath the overhanging roof.

  “Sit here and rest,” Karigan told her. “Enver and I will take care of the horses.”

  “So this is what you do,” Estral mused through chattering teeth. “Gallop through the woods being chased by groundmites . . .”

  “Er, sometimes.”

  “What is this place?”

  “Old Rider waystation, a decommissioned one. If I’m not mistaken, this is Eli Creek Station.”

  Rider waystations had been built along routes where there were no other accommodations, no villages or towns, in which Riders could overnight. As the numbers in the messenger service dwindled, and populations disappeared or were built up along different routes, several waystations were decommissioned, closed up, and no longer supplied, but the buildings remained.

  “How are we safe from the groundmites here?”

  “The station is warded.” Just as the buildings remained, so did the magical wards set long ago by her predecessors who had possessed the ability, as Merla now did. “They will not find us.”

  Estral appeared to sag in relief.

  “I’ve got to help with the horses,” Karigan said.

  “Wait.” Estral produced the longknife, pinching the hilt between two fingers as if she held a dead mouse by the tail. The tip was stained with blood. She handed it to Karigan. “I felt it . . . I felt it scrape bone when I stabbed that groundmite’s foot.”

  “You probably saved my life,” Karigan said quietly.

  “I—I don’t know. You do pretty well by yourself. I’ve never seen what you could do before.”

  “Don’t downplay what you did,” Karigan replied. “You got that ’mite to let me go.”

  Estral unbuckled the swordbelt and handed that to Karigan, as well. “I’ll leave the fighting to you. You leave the writing about it to me.”

  Karigan smiled and started to turn away.

  “Karigan,” Estral said.

  “Yes?”

  “Those groundmites, they were just hungry.”

  Karigan nodded, and went to help with the horses. Yes, the groundmites had attacked out of hunger. In a way, she could not blame them, but even if they were well-fed, she would not wish to stumble across a band of them, for they were more inclined to attack than let an innocent traveler go by. They may have once been peaceable creatures, but their natures had been perverted by Mornhavon the Black just like everything else he touched. No doubt the centuries of being hunted down by her people hadn’t endeared humans to them, either.

  She tried not to feel too sorry for them. Those of the band that had survived the clash would probably sleep content with full bellies. They would likely consume their dead comrades, whether they be friends or relations, a fate Karigan, Estral, and Enver had barely escaped.

  THE SONG OF HADWYR AND NARIVANINE

  By the time Karigan returned to the paddock to help Enver with the horses, she found he had already untacked them, and that Mist was nudging them around the clearing at a walk to cool them down after their arduous run. With no humans leading them, it was an unusual sight.

  “When they have been walked out,” Enver said, “I will check them for injuries. Bane has some claw marks on his rump, but I see no other obvious wounds.”

  Karigan followed the horses with her gaze. “We were lucky.”

  “It is not always luck, or even skill, that leads to good fortune,” he said.

  “Then what? The gods? Fate?”

  “There are many forces at work in the world.”

  Eletians, she thought in both exasperation and amusement. She’d enough “forces” in her world to contend with and didn’t need more.

  “Perhaps, Galadheon,” he said, “you can prepare the cabin. I will continue to look after the horses.”

  She found the door to the cabin wide open. With the wards in place, there was little reason to lock the doors of waystations. She climbed up the steps and found Estral just inside, staring into the gloom.

  “The place could use some work,” Estral muttered.

  Karigan peered over her shoulder into the musty, dark interior. Water dripped into a puddle on the floor from a hole in the roof. The rest looked coated in years of dust and cobwebs.

  “Le
t’s open the shutters and see if we can’t get some more light in here.”

  When they did so, it helped only a little, for the weather was gray and they were shaded by the woods, besides. The lanterns they’d brought, or Enver’s moonstone, would light the interior well, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to see it in too much detail.

  She began to poke around, first righting an overturned chair next to a small table, and then finding a few mouse nests in corners. Unfortunately, the waystation’s wards did not repel rodents. She backed away from an inhabited spider web and, with some trepidation, opened a cabinet. The scent of cedar wafted out. In an active station, it would have been stocked with spare uniform parts and bedding. It appeared to be empty.

  She discovered a mouse-nibbled broom leaning against the wall and used it to dislodge soot, and what might have been years of bird and squirrel nests, from the chimney. She turned away coughing and sneezing at the dust.

  Estral laughed at her.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “The brave Green Rider, knight of the realm, swordmaster and honorary Weapon, and now chimney sweep . . .”

  Karigan looked down at herself and realized she was coated in soot and ash. She tried to pat it off. “My job requires many skills, you know.” Anna, she thought, would find her woefully inadequate for hearth duty.

  Estral just laughed harder, and Karigan left her to it to continue her investigation of the cabin. She found kindling tucked in a niche beside the fireplace and piled it on the hearthstone. Then she retrieved her flint and steel from one of her bags and sparked a fire.

  Once Estral took up the broom and started to raise dust with it, Karigan retreated outdoors to find more wood. The horses, it appeared, had settled nicely into the paddock, and Enver was rubbing down Coda. The wood box beside the paddock contained a cache of split firewood, but it was old and would burn fast, so she decided to search the forest for more.

  She was careful not to stray beyond the wards, and found Eli Creek rushing along nearby, its banks brimming with rain and snowmelt, glassy water smoothing over rocks. As she looked for deadfall on top of the snow, she thought about the decommissioned waystations and how, like most other Riders, she had scrutinized old maps to see where they were located in the event she required safe haven. The abandoned stations might be away from the usual routes, but one never knew when they might come in handy, just as Eli Creek Station had this day for her and her companions.