The Silver Serpent

  Chapter 10|Companions

  Shanis grimaced as she waved in futility at the swarm of bugs hovering just in front of her face. Bugs. Why not snakes? Or some more of those gray monsters? Anything but bugs. She spat a curse under her breath.

  “I know,” Oskar commiserated. His eyes firmly fixed on the trail ahead, he obviously misunderstood the reason for her oath. “I’m tired of walking too.” Shanis didn’t bother to correct him.

  It had been three days since the strange creatures attacked their camp. They waited through the night for another assault, but none came. The next morning they had determined to head east until they found a road, since they did not know exactly where they were. Oskar expressed his hope that the time spent on the river had brought them far enough south that they were beyond the bounds of Galdora and into Lothan. When they found a road they would make their way south to Karkwall, Lothan’s capitol. From there, well, Oskar said they would figure that out later.

  Shanis ran her fingers through her raven tresses, newly colored by a concoction of berries Khalyndryn had cooked up the previous night. The girl reasoned that, on the chance that they were not yet clear of the prince’s writ, Shanis should be as inconspicuous as possible.

  She protested at first, unaccustomed to admitting that Khalyndryn could be right about anything, but soon relented. She was not certain how black hair looked on her. She had tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in a stream when no one was looking, but couldn’t see much. Khalyndryn had assured her that it looked “positively lovely”, but hers was not an opinion Shanis valued.

  “Oskar, will you carry me on your shoulders?” Khalyndryn’s voice had taken on a whiny tone that was even more annoying than usual.

  Shanis whirled about to see Khalyndryn leaning against Oskar’s shoulder, making calf eyes at the stout boy.

  “Oskar, if you carry her one step, so help me, I’ll…” The threat in her voice was enough to squelch any words of protest from Khalyndryn, though the flaxen-haired girl glared at her with eyes afire. The two girls stared at one another for a long moment before Khalyndryn broke off her gaze with a “humph”, and fell back alongside Hierm, nose upturned. Nonplussed, Shanis turned back to Oskar. The lad shrugged, flashing a guilty smile.

  “Where is this road of yours?” Shanis knew that she need not be so short with her friend, but the days of walking, the bugs, and Khalyndryn’s incessant complaining had her nerves on edge. At least there had been no more sign of the strange beasts.

  “I truly think we’ll find one soon,” Oskar replied. “The forest has thinned out, so we’re obviously on our way out.”

  The boy was right. The first day had been slow going as they fought their way through dense underbrush and hungry, barbed creepers that seemed to reach up to ensnare them at every step. In truth, only three of them fought their way through while Khalyndryn waited for them to clear a path. Gradually, the way had grown easier. At first there was only the occasional shaft of sunlight peeking through the dense canopy of greenery to offer them hope. Eventually the dense cluster of trees and tangled roots gave way to larger, more widely-spaced hardwoods. A thick mulch of leaves replaced the snarls of briars and vines that had hindered their steps.

  Though their way had grown easier, Shanis’ tension remained firmly entrenched. The memory of the creatures still made her shiver. What were they? Such beasts existed only in campfire tales, stories told to frighten young children. Yet they were real, flesh and blood.

  She shook her head. Not so long ago, she had been a village girl who wanted to apprentice the sword. Now what could she call herself? An almost-tournament champion? A heroine who had saved her friend from the clutches of a foul suitor? A killer fleeing the wrath of her prince? A slayer of mysterious monsters of the night? She chuckled in spite of herself. She still felt like the same person. All around her, however, the world had suddenly become a complicated place.

  Loud cries and the ring of steel upon steel up ahead of them interrupted her thoughts. She exchanged a quick glance with Hierm. Drawing their swords, they moved forward as one, trotting toward the commotion. As they drew closer, Shanis could see movement, flashes of color, and the sunlight glinting on metal. They broke through the thin barrier of shrubbery and tree limbs, and the whirling colors coalesced into several men locked in combat.

  Two of the combatants could not properly be called men. They were young, not much older than Hierm or Oskar. They were dressed in plain woolen clothes, but of a fine cut, and they sat astride mounts that might have appeared nondescript to the untrained eye. Shanis noted immediately the deep, wide chests, well-sprung ribs, and strong, powerful hindquarters, well-muscled and nicely rounded. These were solid horses, well-equipped for traversing rough terrain. Each of the youths led a packhorse that was equally fine. These were not common travelers; nobility, or perhaps the sons of a merchant.

  The two were desperately fighting off a half-dozen rough-looking characters in filthy garments. Despite their inferior numbers, the young men were acquitting themselves well. Two of the ruffians were already down. The others struggled in vain to penetrate the young men’s defenses. One of their number cried out in pain and defiance as one of his potential victims, a lean youth with dark brown hair, penetrated his defenses with a deft thrust. The man staggered back momentarily, but returned to the attack. While he and another bandit pressed the attack, another of their partners slipped behind the defender, trying to liberate the packhorse. Their three comrades were attempting a similar ploy on the other lad.

  Shanis wasted no time. She dashed forward, with Hierm on her heels. The body of a fallen brigand lay in her path. Leaping over him, she noted absently the feathered shaft that emerged from his throat. Something in the recesses of her mind told her that she ought to cringe at the sight of the dead man and the coppery smell of blood that wafted through the air. Strangely, she felt nothing except the surge of adrenaline and the strong conviction that she must help these two boys. Teeth gritted, she hurled herself into the fray.

  The combatants did not hear the sound of their footfalls over the cacophony of hoofbeats and ringing of swords. Rushing in from behind, Shanis took the first bandit unaware, clouting him across the base of the skull with the pommel of her sword. He crumpled noiselessly to the ground. The youth astride the horse spared only a surprised glance at his unexpected reinforcements before furiously redoubling his efforts in a ferocious blur of steel.

  Shanis lashed out at the man closest to her, an ugly fellow in a greasy tunic and patched hose. She drove him across the clearing with short, crisp strokes. Her adversary gave way quickly, backpedaling awkwardly as he struggled to fend off her assault. Bleary eyes peeked out from an unkempt shock of black hair and overgrown beard. His surprise at facing a woman was quickly replaced by alarm as he found himself badly outmatched. With a shout and an awkward swing, he leapt back, hurling his blade at her. She fell hard to the ground, dodging the missile. She saw her opponent turn and run. Regaining her feet quickly, she spun about, looking for a new opponent.

  The attackers were in full retreat. The man she had struck down had come to, and was reeling down the roadway. The blond youth on the horse calmly nocked an arrow and drew a bead on the fleeing figure.

  “Allyn,” called the dark-haired rider. “Let him go. They won’t try us again.” The blond lad nodded his acquiescence, and returned the arrow to its quiver with a half-smile. The speaker turned to them and nodded.

  “It seems that our thanks are due you.” He glanced past Shanis for a moment as Oskar and Khalyndryn emerged from the forest. “My name is Larris. My companion is Allyn.” He paused, waiting for them to return the introductions.

  Shanis stared at Larris. He was tall, with wavy brown hair and eyes nearly as dark. They had never met before, of that she was certain, yet he seemed familiar somehow.

  Khalyndryn spoke up first. “I am Khalyndryn. My friends are Hierm, Oskar, and Shanis.”

  Shanis swallowed an oath. They had agre
ed to give false names should they meet anyone along the way. She glanced at Khalyndryn. The deep blush on her cheeks indicated that she had realized her error too late.

  “We are traveling south,” Hierm interrupted, launching into the story they had concocted. “Is this the road to Apelmond?”

  “It is,” Larris replied, “but you are still well north of there.” Shanis groaned. “A long way to go with no horses.”

  “Stolen,” Hierm lied smoothly, “from our campsite. I fear that I fell asleep on sentry duty.”

  “A shame,” Larris intoned. A slight furrowing of his brow indicated that he perhaps did not entirely believe their story. “As you can see, we have extra mounts, and we happen to be traveling in the same direction. Perhaps you would care to join us? The ladies, at least, can ride.”

  He seemed a friendly sort, but Shanis feared her party attaching themselves to any stranger. She was about to object, but in the moment she took trying to decide whether to do so on the grounds that she did not need to ride, or that she was no lady, Khalyndryn interjected.

  “That is very kind of you. We accept your generous offer.” Despite her soiled face and travel-stained dress, she managed to look every bit the lady as she curtsied deeply.

  Shanis wanted to kick her.

  “You are most welcome,” Allyn replied smoothly, if not with the warmth that his friend Larris exuded. “Give me a moment to move some of our gear to my horse, and my spare mount is yours.” He dismounted, and began rearranging their supplies. Larris did the same, and soon the group was on their way.

  As they rode, Larris explained that he was the son of a merchant from Archstone. He was headed to Karkwall, in Lothan, to make inquiries of the local merchants regarding trade. Allyn had come along for companionship and security.

  “We will pass through Apelmond along the way,” he said. “I confess I am comforted by your presence. There is strength in numbers, and the prince’s writ holds little weight this far from Galdora.”

  Prince’s writ! She tensed at the words. How dearly she hoped that the young man was correct.

  They walked their horses, maintaining a pace that Hierm and Oskar could keep afoot. Oskar looked up at her wistfully. Shanis flashed him her most innocent smile. She would let him suffer a while longer. She had forgotten how good it felt to ride. She thought of her own horse, and had to force down wistful memories of long rides in the countryside outside Galsbur. She hoped her father was treating her horse well. The two had never gotten along. Shine was as spirited as she.

  Larris proved to be the more talkative of their new companions. “You handle the blade very well,” he praised her. “Most impressive for a woman. No offense intended,” he added quickly.

  “None taken,” she lied again. Mendacity was coming quite easily to her. “You are not the first to notice I’m not a man.” That part was true.

  “How did you develop such skill?” Larris was looking straight ahead, but the sharp tone of the question indicated his attention was firmly fixed on her.

  Shanis did not wish to answer questions about herself. She tried to turn the conversation back toward Larris.

  “You are obviously no stranger to the sword yourself,” she complimented the young noble. “I’m not certain that the two of you needed our help.”

  “Oh, that we did indeed,” Larris chuckled, “That we did indeed. But I thank you for the compliment. Allyn is a fair bladesman himself, and an even better archer. Had I given him leave to loose his arrow on that last brigand, you would have seen for yourself.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” Shanis replied. This time she spoke the truth. Larris was nice enough, she supposed, but there was something about Allyn. The way he sat his horse, the unhurried way in which he went about everything he did, spoke volumes about his self-assuredness. The detached half-grin he had worn as he calmly lined up his sights on the fleeing man made him seem removed from his surroundings. He was above fear, above distraction He was a young man who knew what he was about. Shanis could believe him capable of almost anything.

  “How is it that you are friends, yet you give the orders?”

  “His father is my father’s man,” Larris replied, as if that explained everything. Her own father was Lord Hiram’s man, but you would never catch her taking orders from Hierm. She was about to tell Larris that very thing when he cut her short with another question.

  “You never told me why the four of you were headed to Apelmond.”

  “Oh, that,” Shanis replied. “Hierm’s father is a merchant as well.” Oskar had told them that the best lie contains as much truth as possible, so they had concocted what they hoped was a plausible story. “Oskar works for him, as does my father.” Here came the lie. “Hierm and Khalyndryn are betrothed. Her uncle in Apelmond is old and infirm. Hierm is going to take over his business.”

  “So you and Hierm are not…” Larris let the question hang unspoken between them.

  “No!” she replied, perhaps a bit too vehemently. “No, we are friends. Oskar and I came along mostly for the adventure. Neither of us has ever traveled anywhere before.”

  “You are his betrothed?” Allyn asked Khalyndryn. Both she and Hierm nodded. “Perhaps I can change your mind before we get to Apelmond,” he laughed, winking at Khalyndryn.

  Shanis scowled at the back of Khalyndryn’s head. The girl had gotten all the attention at home. Why should things be any different here? Didn’t men think about anything more than a pretty face? She gritted her teeth, determined not to say anything.

  “Only joking, of course,” Allyn said, glancing down to where Hierm and Oskar walked alongside the four riders.

  “It’s not a problem,” Hierm replied with a smile. The boy had been chafing at Khalyndryn’s unsolicited attentions. Likely, he would be grateful for her to fix her sights on someone else for a while.

  Strange, Shanis mused, Khalyndryn’s fawning over Hierm had not made her jealous. Annoyed, even amused in an unkind way, perhaps, but not envious in the least. Why should the girl’s behavior toward Allyn affect her so?

  “I’m sorry,” Larris interjected. “I saw the two of you together when you came to our aid, and I just assumed you were…together.” He shrugged.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “Many people think the same thing. We’ve been friends for a long time.” She thought for a moment. How did she feel about Hierm? She had always taken for granted that he would be there for her, but he was just Hierm. Was there any more than that?

  “If not you and Hierm, perhaps you and Oskar?” Larris’ broad smile indicated that the question was not sincere.

  Shanis laughed and shook her head.

  “I’m not such a bad catch,” Oskar objected, half-joking and half-defensive.

  “Of course you aren’t,” Hierm retorted. “My mother says you sweep a floor better than any woman she’s ever known.”

  Oskar gave Hierm a hard shove, and walked on in silence.

  “Anyone special back home?” Larris probed.

  “That’s none of your…”

  “No!” Oskar interrupted. “She’s quite available. That is, if you can get between her and her sword.”

  The burning sensation on her cheeks told Shanis that she was in the midst of one of her famous blushes. Everyone laughed.

  “I notice you don’t wear a sword,” Larris said to Oskar. “What is your weapon of choice?”

  “Books,” Oskar responded. Larris cocked his head and looked quizzically at the stout youth. “Books are my weapons of choice. Knowledge is power, or so I read somewhere.”

  “I enjoy books as well,” Larris agreed, “but they aren’t much use in a scrape.”

  “I generally leave the fighting to Hierm and Shanis, but I suppose I can thump someone with a stick as well as the next person.”

  “That walking stick you carry,” Allyn cut in, “do you know how to use it?”

  “What do you mean?” Oskar asked, drawing his stick close to his chest.

&n
bsp; “The staff can be a formidable weapon,” Allyn said. “I thought all you herders knew how to use one.”

  “We’re farmers,” Oskar corrected, “not herders.”

  “If you say so,” Allyn said in a voice that conveyed his complete lack of interest in the difference between the two. “I have some skill with the staff. I can teach you if you like.”

  “I’d like that.” Oskar’s face lit up. Doubtless this was, to his mind, another chapter in his adventure story.

  “Tonight then, when we make camp.” Allyn nodded and turned his attention back to the road ahead.

  They rode on in silence for a time. What little conversation that took place was between Allyn and Khalyndryn. Allyn bantered playfully with the blonde girl. Khalyndryn giggled, and made nonsense comments. Shanis noted that Khalyndryn was quite at home playing the fool. She only hoped that the girl was not fool enough to let slip anything she shouldn’t. Larris eventually spoke up.

  “What are your plans?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” She tried to keep the defensiveness from her voice.

  “Once we reach Apelmond, where to from there?” he said. “Hierm and Khalyndryn will marry. What of you and Oskar?”

  “Back home I suppose.” Shanis shrugged. She did not like being reminded that right now there was very little plan to her life.

  “Home,” he echoed. “Back to… where did you say you are from?”

  “Grenhamsville,” she said. Oskar had assured them that no one could possibly know the name of every village in Galdora, so they were safe in simply making up a name.

  “A woman of your talent going back to simple town life? Difficult to imagine. Is there some pressing business calling you back?”

  “Do you always ask so many questions?” She snapped irritably. What was it with the young man and his questions?

  “Not usually, but it’s a long way to Karkwall, and your sword might come in handy.” Allyn turned an appraising glance in Larris’ direction, but did not speak. “Oskar would be welcome as well.”

  “That would be interesting,” Oskar perked up. “I’ve read about Karkwall. I’d love to see it.”

  “Have you done a great deal of reading?” Larris asked, blessedly turning his attention from Shanis.

  “Hierm’s father has a small library.” Oskar said, not adding the fact that he read these books without the knowledge or permission of Lord Hiram.

  “Books are hard to come by, and expensive as well,” Larris said. “Quite generous of him to allow you to read them.”

  “Yes, Oskar,” Hierm chided, “so kind of him to let you read them.”

  “Yes,” Oskar mumbled, “he is an exceptional man.”

  “What is your favorite book?” If Larris noticed Oskar’s discomfort, he did not show it.

  “Patrin’s Conquests,” Oskar replied immediately.

  “Patrin’s Conquests? But we don’t have…” Larris appeared nonplussed. “I mean, I didn’t know that there were any copies in existence. At least, not in Galdora.”

  “I know of one. Lord Hiram,” Oskar paused for a moment, realizing that he had unwittingly let slip another bit of information. “Hierm’s father has a copy in fine condition.

  “Truly?” Larris gaze bored into Oskar with an intensity that alarmed Shanis. “I have only heard tell of the book. What sorts of stories are in it?”

  “It’s fascinating reading,” Oskar replied. Shanis rolled her eyes. She could tell from her friend’s tone of voice that Oskar might be talking for a long time. “Heroes, battles, sorcerers, fantastic creatures, lost cities…”

  “You don’t believe any of that foolishness, do you?” Allyn interrupted, an amused lilt to his voice.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Oskar retorted.

  “I fear that my friend is something of a cynic,” Larris said smoothly. “He doesn’t believe in anything beyond the tip of his arrow.” He gave Allyn an unreadable look.

  “I can appreciate that.” Shanis ran her fingertips across the hilt of her sword. Allyn turned toward her and nodded, his eyes gleaming above his roguish half-grin. Shanis smiled back. From the edge of her vision, she caught Hierm staring at her. Her cheeks warmed. Freeze her fair complexion! She was blushing entirely too much today.

  “Friend Oskar, we are surrounded by heathens,” Larris moaned in mock-anguish. “They fail to realize that all legends contain within them a kernel of truth, sometimes more.”

  “I have said the very same thing many times,” Oskar gushed. “Shanis, haven’t I said that very thing?”

  “What? I don’t remember anything of the sort,” she teased. “I thought it was Khalyndryn who always said that.” The blonde girl ignored her jibe. Oskar gaped for a moment before realizing she jested. He shook his head, and looked back at Larris. “Have you ever read the story of the Glyphs of Riza?”

  “I have indeed,” Larris nodded. “Imagine, an entire system of writing created just so that a prince might woo a young lady with love letters written in their very own language.”

  “That is so romantic,” Khalyndryn sighed, staring up at the pale sky, feathered with wisps of cloud..

  “Not really,” Oskar looked up at the blonde. “The love letters were a ruse. They were plotting together to assassinate her father.”

  “Oskar, you are horrid.” Khalyndryn spurred her horse forward. She bounced awkwardly, clinging to the pommel of her saddle as her mount trotted away.

  “Did it work?” Shanis asked, surprisingly curious about the story.

  “The king, the girl’s father, discovered their plot. Using her key to the code, he wrote a letter ostensibly from her, asking the prince to come right away.”

  “The letter led the prince into a system of caverns, where the king’s daughter was waiting.” Oskar picked up the narrative. “He sealed the entrance shut, entombing them for all eternity.”

  Shanis nodded approvingly. That was the sort of princess story that she could enjoy. Life did not come wrapped in a neat package: it was messy. Her life was certainly a mess.

  “You mentioned lost cities. Any lost cities in Patrin’s Conquests?” Larris leaned toward Oskar as he asked. Shanis thought she detected a bit of hopefulness in his voice.

  “Several,” the boy responded. “It’s quite a long book, actually.”

  “You’ll have to tell me of them,” Larris said.

  Oskar opened his mouth to reply, but Shanis had thought of a question of her own.

  “Larris, in your reading, have you ever come across stories of furry manlike beasts with the head and claws of wild cats?”

  The young man jerked his head around to stare at her. His eyes widened momentarily, but then his features smoothed.

  “Not that I recall. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Shanis did not entirely trust their new companion. He asked too many questions. Furthermore, she suspected that he knew more than he was letting on about the strange beasts. “Just something I’ve heard about.”

  “Grandmother’s fireside tales,” Allyn muttered. While he retained his calm exterior, his voice registered a note of concern.

  “As I said earlier, my friend lacks imagination,” Larris said. “I have read of many odd and frightful creatures, but none precisely like the ones you describe. Where did you hear tell of these particular beasts?”

  “It was just as he said.” Shanis nodded in Allyn’s direction. “One of my grandmother’s stories.”

  The blonde youth rewarded her with a wink and she bit her cheeks to keep from smiling one of those idiotic girlish smiles. Why did he have such an effect on her?

  “I have spent a great deal of time in the forests of Galdora and I can tell you that the next time I see such a creature will be the first.” Allyn patted Khalyndryn on the shoulder as he spoke. The girl had trembled at the mention of their mysterious assailants.

  “Fortunate that your work for Larris’ father allows you so much time for adventures,” Hierm noted with a touch of sarcasm in his v
oice.

  “Larris’ father is as generous an employer as your own father must be,” Allyn said.

  “How truly blessed we are,” Hierm sighed and glanced at Larris, “to have such wonderful fathers.”

  A shame, Shanis thought, that the irony was lost on their new comrades. What was Lord Hiram doing right now? Had he sent men in search of Hierm? What must all their families think? She tried not to imagine her father returning from his haul to find her gone. To hear what she had done to the soldier.

  “Allyn, I suppose every creature that walks this earth lives in the forests of Galdora?” Larris’ jibe did not faze Allyn. “Have you ever been to the Ice Reaches?”

  “What are the Ice Reaches?” Khalyndryn’s voice quavered.

  “The Ice Reaches lie somewhere among the highest peaks of the Walls of Stone.” He turned his gaze to the west as if he could see those fabled mountains from her. “Evil creatures are purported to make their home there.”

  “Purported,” Allyn emphasized, “not known.”

  “But as our friends are fond of saying,” Shanis said, “every story contains a bit of truth, does it not?” She did not like Allyn questioning the existence of the creatures they had encountered, and took pleasure in disagreeing with him. In fairness to the young man, she hadn’t actually told the story of their encounter. Nonetheless, it felt as if he were doubting her honesty.

  “What of the wolfen?” Oskar inquired, obviously pleased at having discovered a kindred spirit.

  “Ah, the wolfen.” Larris smiled. “Beasts who are half-man, half-wolf. Another creature Allyn has never seen. Yet they are mentioned in countless stories. So many, in fact, that one would be a fool,” he looked at Allyn and emphasized the word with raised voice, “not to consider the possibility that they are real.”

  “How improbable,” Allyn intoned, “that two relatively ordinary young men happen to be so well-read. How truly fortunate we are.”

  “Yes, truly,” Larris answered dryly.

  Something passed between the two men. Shanis noted a tension that was not there before. She looked from one to the other. Allyn’s partial smile was gone. He stared blankly in front of him. Larris, for his part, clutched his reins in a white-knuckled grip. They rode on in an uncomfortable silence.