It didn’t take long to pack their meager supplies and saddle the horses. Dathan welcomed Kevlin's decision to join Antigonus' party when Kevlin explained that by doing so he could best lead the mercenaries away. So eager was he to be away that he paid Kevlin’s wages without even trying to cheat him, then led his men south into the woods.
With Terach’s help, Kevlin fashioned a more durable stretcher. They hoisted it and headed into the forest, with the ladies leading the horses behind. Since the mercenaries blocked the direct route back to the highway, they forded the stream and headed northwest. By the time they reached the road, an hour later, Kevlin’s arms quivered under the strain of carrying Antigonus, and his injuries burned despite Ceren’s painkilling medicine.
They secured the stretcher between a couple horses. Terach mounted his own stallion and took the lead lines. Ceren’s horse had not been recovered, so she rode behind Kevlin. They moved at a fast walk to avoid jostling Antigonus.
When Haisyl mounted her horse, Ceren said, “You’re no longer part of this company, Haisyl. Find your own way.”
She paled. “But Antigonus said.”
“He said not to punish you for your treachery, but he didn’t say we had to trust you. Your mistress is in the woods not far from here. Go find her.”
They left her sitting her horse, staring after them as they moved north. She looked pathetic, but Kevlin didn’t fall for the act. The journey would be difficult enough without babysitting the annoying woman and worrying if she would turn on them again.
Kevlin decided to enjoy the rare peace as they rode. The morning was turning out better than he had expected. They had survived Dhanjal’s attack, which alone merited celebration. On top of that, he was free of Dathan, with money in his pouch and a pretty girl on his horse.
They moved together, her weight a steady pressure against his back, and her arms lightly holding his waist. She smelled nice, like springtime. She was too polite to mention how badly he stank. It was nice to have someone with good manners around for a change.
They rode north through the morning, pushing against a flood of travelers fleeing south from the expected conflict promised by the bloodset. None of the travelers felt inclined to stop and chat, so Kevlin gained little useful information.
The highway ran straight north, with only the occasional gentle curve. Part of an extensive highway system linking all the major cities of the Six Kingdoms, this section connected Diodor, the capital city of Hallvarr in the north, to Tamera, the imperial seat and capital of Tamarr in the south.
The sun shone bright in a cloudless blue sky, making it an unusually beautiful autumn day. Woods flanked the highway, a thick wall already brilliant with the reds, golds, and purples of leaves changing with the season. At noon, they stopped to rest the horses and eat a meager lunch while Ceren checked on Antigonus.
“How is he?” Terach asked as he inspected the horses’ hooves.
“Unchanged,” Ceren said.
Terach frowned. “Earlier, his face seemed to be glowing. I’d hoped he was healing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know. I could have checked on him.”
“I didn’t want to stop.”
They continued at the same steady walk, and Kevlin started to feel impatient with the pace. He tried passing the time talking with Ceren, and she spoke at length about Agoraeun. She’d lived there her whole life and loved the bustling metropolis.
Ceren possessed a quick mind and surpised him with the depth of her understanding of the complex economy driving the city. She refused to clarify exactly what she did in the intelligence service, but Kevlin didn’t mind. He enjoyed listening to her speak. When she wasn’t yelling or snorting, she had a lovely voice.
A couple hours after noon they reached Ingolf, a large town straddling the Nagendra River near its mouth on the Tamerlane Sea. A tributary of the mighty Ujutus River, the Nagendra was narrow but deep, and used for moving freight from southern Hallvarr all across the Six Kingdoms.
Stacks of timber lay in muddy lots on the south side of the river. Rough piles of iron and copper ore were piled in massive heaps nearby. They were extracted from the Straton Mountains to the east. Mountains of coal reared farther from town, while sturdy crates of produce were stacked on the north shore awaiting shipment.
The center of town lay on the north side of the river, which they crossed via a wide, arcing stone bridge. The few people on the streets hurried about their business with worried expressions.
The shrine of Serigala was a simple, single-story building set back from the road at the edge of the central market square. It looked serene, with a small, manicured lawn flanked by vegetable gardens. A white-painted picket fence ran along the road, with a wide gate that stood open.
The wooden roof was closed, which was a little unusual. The Pemburu Stalwarts, disciples of Serigala in her form as goddess of the harvest and moon, cared for most of her shrines, and were avid star gazers. They preferred to prop the roofs open whenever the weather permitted.
A woman wearing a wide straw hat and a smock of heavy, unbleached wool worked in the garden, harvesting late-season spice beans. She didn’t look up until they dismounted.
“Pardon, miss,” Terach called.
The woman smiled, her broad face tanned from long hours in the sun, and etched with lines of mirth and hard work. Her eyes shone merry and blue. She noticed the stretcher bearing Antigonus and her smile faded.
“Can I be of service?” she asked.
“We hope so. We have an injured man. Are you a stalwart?” Terach asked.
She laughed. “Oh goodness, no. I have some little skill, but no endowment from Serigala. I help tend to the shrine.”
“Are there any stalwarts here?”
“I’m afraid not. After the bloodset last night, things got pretty busy.”
“What do you mean?” Kevlin asked.
“Didn’t you see it?”
“Aye, but why would that force the stalwarts away?” Terach asked.
“They spent the whole night trying to calm the council and guild masters. People panicked, and those who haven’t fled have barricaded themselves in their homes. The stalwarts left this morning to visit the surrounding villages.”
Terach swore softly but sincerely, and the woman’s face blanched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Our friend will die without the aid of a stalwart. Will they return soon?”
“Not for several days, at least.”
He turned from her to survey the deserted marketplace. His lips moved, but he kept his curses silent.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Ceren's face lit up. “Wait. A ship. We can take a ship for Tamera!”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “The docks are empty. Every vessel that could float was sailed downriver to the sea at first light.”
Ceren stamped her foot in frustration.
“Where exactly did the stalwarts go?” Kevlin asked. “Maybe we could catch up with them.”
The woman shrugged. “I cannot say for sure. The villages are scattered throughout the countryside. They could be anywhere.”
Terach said, “We have to push north. How far to the next town with a stalwart?”
Glancing at the litter-bearing horses, the woman said, “Walking, it’ll take you two or three days.”
“Thank you,” Terach said, and they withdrew to discuss their next move. It didn’t take long, for there was really only one option. They had to press on.
Ceren said, “We need some supplies. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Be quick. Kevlin, go with her," Terach ordered.
Kevlin sighed. Riding with Ceren was nice, but she’d better not start thinking of him as her errand boy.
Many shops were closed, but Ceren proved an aggressive shopper. She had Kevlin pound on doors until reluctant merchants answered, then she haggled like a horse trader. In less than an hour, she acquired most of what they needed. She used Kevlin as her pack mule.
As she passed a low barn, she stopped and grinned. Her eyes fixed on a handsome open carriage parked inside. Behind the high driver’s seat, two plush benches faced each other, with a large compartment for baggage in the rear.
Using funds from one of Bajaran’s purses, they purchased the carriage, and within ten minutes were hitching a couple horses to it.
“Brilliant,” Terach said after they settled Antigonus on one of the plush benches. “We’ll cover a lot more ground this way.”
Ceren climbed aboard and settled on the other seat with her green healer’s case. Kevlin climbed up to the driver’s seat while Terach flanked the carriage on his stallion. The sun was halfway to the western horizon by the time they headed north out of town. The road ahead lay empty, so they pushed the horses into a rolling canter that ate up the miles.
Kevlin smiled as he drove, his hopes buoyed by their rapid progress. They’d find a stalwart for sure. Once restored to health, Antigonus could take care of Rhea, and Kevlin’s oath to see him safe would be fulfilled. Antigonus might even answer some of the questions he yearned to ask.
They paused a little before dusk to rest the horses and eat.
“We’ll push on into the night if it’s clear enough to see,” Terach said. “I want as much distance between us and Rhea and those mercenaries as possible.”
They made very good time for another hour, but as night fell, heavy clouds rolled in from the west, and thunder rumbled with the promise of a deluge.
“We have to find shelter,” Ceren called out. “We can’t expose Antigonus to that storm. It might kill him.”
Terach said, “If we find a good place, we’ll stop. If not, we’ll rig some blankets over him.”
A chill wind picked up and a few fat drops of rain splattered onto Kevlin’s face. A minute later, lightning flashed in the distacne. The pealing thunder seemed to unlock the heavens and the rains began in earnest.
Kevlin caught sight of a light visible ahead through the gathering darkness. Shouting to Terach to follow, he whipped the horses and raced for the promised shelter as the wind rose to a howl, and rain slashed his face in stinging sheets.
“We’ve got to get out of this,” Ceren shouted while trying to hold a spare blanket over Antigonus.
The lights belonged to a long, two-story inn built close to the highway. A sign above the door, rocking in the wind, showed a tree sheltering a bed. Kevlin had never felt happier to see an inn, and decided not to dwell on the lucky spin of the Wheel.
He drove around the near side of the building to a huge barn set perpendicular to the north end of the inn, with doors wide enough to drive the carriage inside. Two hostlers took the horses and called another man to help with their baggage.
One of the men then led the way through a covered walk to the back door of the inn. They entered a large common room flooded with cheery light and shimmering with warmth.
A massive fireplace filled most of the wall to their left. Dozens of candles burned in sconces along the walls, and the light reflected from polished wooden surfaces everywhere. The oak tables shone and the floor, made of closely fitted purplish-brown walnut planks, sparkled. At the far end of the room, near the front door, a gleaming cherry bar ran the full length of the wall.
A handful of other travelers sat scattered among the tables. Several were eating, and Kevlin savored the aroma of roasted pork. Most of the other customers stood talking near the fire, and paused to stare at the stretcher.
A heavyset, middle-aged woman in a starched white apron hurried over as they crossed the room. Her hair and eyes were a deep brown, and her ruddy face warm and friendly.
“Welcome to the Timbered Rest.” She frowned at the stretcher. “Is your friend ill?” It was early for the winter skin rot, but with the bloodset spooking everyone, it was clear she did not want to take any chances.
“He is injured.” Ceren clasped the woman’s arm and added, “You have such a beautiful inn. The woodwork is gorgeous.”
“Thank you, milady.” By the time they reached the bar, Ceren and the innkeeper were chatting like old friends. Two minutes later, after dipping again into Bajaran’s purse, the innkeeper led them from the common room and down a short hallway.
They stopped at a door paneled in gleaming cherry and carved with intricate patterns of vines and candle fruit. It opened into a comfortable study. Several books, a rare luxury, sat on a high shelf to their right. Padded chairs faced a cheery fire in a large hearth under a mahogany mantel. An oak table and chairs filled the rest of the room, with a candelabra glowing in the center. A large window was shuttered against the storm.
“Very nice,” Ceren observed, removing her sodden cloak and hanging it on a peg near the fire.
The innkeeper’s teenage son brought in a small trundle bed and placed it near the fire for Antigonus. The sentinel looked weak. He rolled his head from side to side and muttered to himself, but did not awaken.
Ceren checked his bandages while a serving girl set a full meal on the table. The roasted pork was cut into medallions and covered with delicious gravy. Other dishes included mashed potatoes dripping with butter, steamed carrots, spice beans, and mulled cider that quickly chased away the cold.
They ate ravenously, and the solid, hearty meal tasted delicious. Soldiers know to eat when they can, so Kevlin polished off three helpings, then waddled over to one of the plush chairs. He stretched his feet toward the fire and stared into the flames with half-closed eyes, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling stuffed, warm, and dry.
Ceren dropped into another chair with a contented smile, and cocked her head to listen to the drumming of the rain. “Better than sleeping on the road, don’t you think?” she asked Terach.
He had lingered at the table over a glass of wine, which he raised in a toast. “Absolutely.”
Antigonus groaned and opened his eyes. Ceren sprang up and brought him a cup of mulled cider. “Drink,” she ordered. He managed a few small sips before pushing it away.
“Where are we?” he whispered.
“An inn north of Ingolf. We're looking for a stalwart to heal you," Ceren explained.
He nodded and closed his eyes. For a minute it looked like he had fallen asleep, but he stirred and reopened them. “I have contacted Harafin.”
“Harafin? How?" Ceren asked.
“Mindlink. I was too weak to hold the connection long, but I think he understood I had been betrayed and need help.”
“When?” Terach asked.
“This morning.”
“Where is he?”
“Tamera.” He clenched his eyes against a fresh wave of pain. “Need to rest.”
“We’ll watch over you,” Ceren promised, wiping his brow with a cloth. His face began to glow with a soft, silvery light and his breathing deepened.
“That’s what he was doing earlier,” Terach said. “Is he healing?”
Ceren checked under the bandages, but the soft glow did not extend past his face.
“Harafin.” Terach slammed one fist into his open palm. “He’s in Tamera, and we’re going the wrong way.”
Kevlin decided not to point out that it was Terach’s choice to take the northern road.
“Do you think he’ll ride north to meet us?” Ceren asked.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Maybe we should head south tomorrow.”
“If Harafin doesn’t come, Antigonus will never make it to Tamera,” Kevlin said.
“It’s not worth the risk of running into Rhea or Dhanjal again,” Terach decided. “We stick to the original plan.”
The choice made sense, although it luffed Kevlin’s sails to think they were continuing away from their best help.
The thought of meeting Harafin was thrilling, and terrifying. Harafin of the ruling council in Tamera, was an even greater living legend than Antigonus. His exploits dated back over two hundred years to before the creation of the empire. He had been one of the mightiest defenders of the Six Kingdoms through all the wars against the Grakonians.
Hopefully Harafin rode fast. Once he caught up with them, they’d be safe.
Within a couple of minutes, the glow faded from Antigonus’ face and he settled into a deep sleep. They all headed to their rooms.
Ceren directed them to place Antigonus on a hastily-prepared bed in the parlor attached to her suite at the end of the upstairs hall. Terach urged her to let them help watch over Antigonus, but she shooed them out and ordered them to get some sleep.
Kevlin was impressed. Ceren was smart, resourceful, and willing to make hard decisions. He'd known few women who could claim all those qualities. Of course, one of them had turned out to be a lying murderer.
Kevlin and Terach shared a cramped little room near Ceren's suite, but Kevlin didn't mind. It was better than sleeping outside in the rain.
Both rooms looked out over the back courtyard. A maid who had been assigned to attend Ceren mentioned that one of the buildings outside was a bathhouse. Ceren grabbed a change of clothing and headed for the bath faster than a legionnaire rushing to dinner.
Kevlin didn't stink so bad that he couldn't sleep, so he dropped onto his bed. Terach drew the first watch and went to check on Antigonus. Kevlin fell asleep before the door even closed behind him.