Call of the Herald (23 page)

"Let's move on, then," Catrin said. "I'd like
to put as much ground between us and this marsh as possible. I
don't want to camp anywhere near here."

* * *

By the light of one of the precious few
candles that remained, Wendel Volker packed his gear. Elsa's sword
lay across the blanket-covered crates he'd been using as a bed. He
took no food, and in no way, other than burning the candle,
depleted the provisions that would be needed by all those who
remained in the cold caves. A twinge of guilt made Wendel pause and
reconsider; these people needed him, or at least so they thought.
An equally painful guilt hovered over him for abandoning Catrin,
and his duty as a father had finally won out over his duty to his
people. Those he had gathered in the cold caves were now as safe as
they were going to be; there was nothing more he could do to ensure
their well-being. In a moment of self-justification, he asserted
that by leaving, he would consume less of the rations; therefore,
he was doing everyone who remained a favor.

Like all others, that moment passed, and he
was left to deal with guilt over leaving Jensen behind. He and his
brother simply saw things differently. Jensen had as much anxiety
over Chase's fate as Wendel did over Catrin's, but he steadfastly
refused to go after them, and he had done everything within his
power to persuade Wendel to do the same. When he was honest with
himself, Wendel realized that Jensen was the only reason he had
stayed as long as he had. With a deep breath, he firmed his resolve
and shouldered his pack. The journey ahead would be difficult and
fraught with danger, but the hardest part was behind him; as he
stepped out of the chamber that had been his temporary home, the
journey was begun. He would find Catrin.

His candle was not overly bright, but he
shielded it as best he could while allowing enough light to guide
his way. To those who were immersed in darkness, even the dimmest
light can shine like a beacon, and Wendel had no desire to alert
anyone of his departure. Fortunately, most avoided the deepest
tunnels, where the air was the coldest and the feeling of the land
pressing down the greatest. Wendel had grown accustomed to the
feeling long ago, and he walked without fear, though not without
anxiety. He should have left a note for Jensen, something to
explain his motives and reasoning, but he could not turn back now,
and there was no time to waste. Jensen would wake soon, and another
day would be lost, and Catrin would be another day farther from
him. In the back of his mind, a voice warned that she was already
too far away, that he would never reach her in time. Ignoring that
voice, Wendel moved as quickly and quietly as he could.

Deep within the network of tunnels and caves,
the scent of fresh air drifted. Only in a few places did shafts
penetrate the rock and allow air and, in some cases, light into the
caves, but Wendel now stood below one of these shafts. He had never
found one of the shafts from above, mostly due to the fact that
this part of the cold caves lay directly below a series of steep
and formidable peaks. Not knowing what he would face when he
emerged gave him pause, and he took a moment to plan this critical
part of his escape.

First he tied a length of rope around his
waist and secured the other end to his pack. The knife on his belt
was all that he would carry, and all that he could use to defend
himself should the outlet of the shaft be guarded. Though he
thought it unlikely, Wendel made himself consider the possibility.
Chastising himself for allowing fear to stall him, he moved to the
crates of cheese that were stacked nearby, and he placed them on
top of one another beneath the air shaft, giving himself just
enough of a boost to gain his first handhold. Once inside the
shaft, the climbing would be easier since he could use both sides
of the shaft to support himself. The fear of getting stuck in a
section where the shaft was too narrow nearly made him abandon this
course, but his decision was made.

"Only cowards and thieves sneak away beneath
a shroud of darkness," came Jensen's voice from below. "I never
believed you to be either of those things, yet here we are."

Nearly howling in frustration, Wendel cursed
himself for whatever carelessness allowed Jensen to find him
here.

"I could see it in your eyes, and I could
hear it in your voice when we discussed the plans today. I knew
from the way you held yourself that you had no intention of being
here when those plans were put in place. You cannot hide things
from me--never could. Thought you would know that by now. So . . .
if you are determined to leave, at least come down here and face me
like a man."

With a final glance toward the sky--though he
saw little in the darkness--Wendel lowered himself back to the
crates, wondering if he would ever see Catrin, Chase, or Benjin
again. The thoughts were nearly as painful as seeing the
disappointment in his brother's eyes.

* * *

As the trees grew thicker, the group moved
slowly along a narrow game trail. The air vibrated with the
percussive cadence of hammer-locusts, and Catrin could feel their
call thrumming through her. A mass of downed trees suddenly loomed
before them, deteriorating beneath a bed of moss and lichen. Thorn
bushes around the rotting mass created a formidable barrier.

"These trees are crumbling, so you'd better
watch your footing," Benjin said. Catrin made the climb easily,
stepping lightly across the slick limbs. Just as she gained solid
ground, she saw the trunk beneath Osbourne's boot collapse, and his
leg was immersed in a writhing, humming, black mass. Playing
harmony to the hammer-locusts, a growing cloud of angry hornets
defended their nest.

Engulfed by the storm, Osbourne let out a cry
and ran past Catrin, who sprinted after him. Burning stings on her
neck and head spurred her to reckless speed, and she pumped her
legs as fast as they would go. Each new pain drove her forward;
unable to distinguish hornet stings from the bites of thorns, she
fled. Dark shapes darted around her, striking without mercy. Her
head throbbed in time with the pounding of her pulse, and her
vision deteriorated as her eyebrow swelled.

A loud splash was the only warning she
received before she hurtled through open air. Her brief flight
ended as she struck water, which was deep enough to break her fall.
She plunged under for an instant, but then her feet found bottom,
and she propelled herself back up.

When she broke the surface, coughing and
gasping, she was thankful no hornets awaited her. Her left eye was
nearly closed, and the swelling in her neck made it difficult to
turn her head. Osbourne was thrashing on the far shore in obvious
agony, his entire head swelling. A moment later, Benjin and the
others plunged into the water.

Catrin ran to Osbourne, who had gone still.
His eyes were mere slits trapped between exaggerated folds of puffy
flesh, and the flushed skin of his lips curled outward to contain
it. His skin deepened from mottled red to purple, and his body
occasionally twitched.

"Cut his shirt away from his throat," Benjin
barked, approaching with his herbal kit. "Pull his lips open and
depress his tongue." Catrin pried open Osbourne's slack jaws and
pressed his tongue down firmly with her fingers. Benjin pinched a
generous portion of Celia's root, which he blew into Osbourne's
open mouth; then he puffed the fine powder into Osbourne's lungs,
using his hands to seal the opening of their mouths. A fine cloud
of powder escaped when Benjin pressed on Osbourne's chest with his
hands, causing Osbourne to exhale. Then Benjin blew into Osbourne's
mouth again.

When Osbourne went into spasm and coughed,
Catrin let out her breath, only then realizing she had been holding
it. The boy was wracked with violent fits of coughing, which left
him gasping, and each new breath tickled his throat, causing him to
cough harder. Only wheezing and vomiting separated his fits, but he
was breathing.

Chase had stings on his neck and arms, but
the swelling was minor. Strom had been behind them and was
untouched by the angry mass of hornets that had pursued the others.
With Osbourne out of immediate danger, Benjin mixed a large batch
of sting remedy from several of his powders and some clean water.
When he looked up from his work, Catrin saw that his bottom lip had
been stung several times and was twice its normal size. She
realized then how painful it must have been for him to blow into
Osbourne's mouth, and she marveled at his strength.

Osbourne's breathing gradually eased, but his
eyes remained shut. Benjin told him to take shallow breaths until
the tickle left his throat and leaned him against a tree. In time,
the herbs took effect. His body relaxed, and though the swelling
was not gone, it no longer seemed to be getting worse.

Benjin prepared another mixture, which he
said would help with the swelling, but they would have to swallow
it. It was bitter and left a vile aftertaste. Osbourne drank the
mixture diluted with water, but he choked on it and suffered
another coughing fit.

Benjin's lip grew huge, but he kept working
despite his obvious discomfort. When he checked their packs, he
sighed. The others watched as he removed the smoked and salted
goods that had gotten wet, and the pile of food he discarded was
distressing to see after the work they had put into preparing it.
They sat for a while and watched Osbourne recover. He seemed to be
having less trouble breathing, but his eyes were still shut. Catrin
wanted to make for higher ground before they camped for the night,
and she was trying to decide what to do when Benjin drew her
aside.

"I don't think Osbourne should walk any
farther today. I should go ahead and scout out a suitable campsite
while the rest of you wait here. You all can rig a litter and
attend to Osbourne's needs while I'm gone. Agreed?" She nodded.
"Good." He got his bow and a quiver of arrows, set off at a rapid
pace, and was soon lost from sight.

Chase and Strom found saplings, while Catrin
unpacked her leather ground cloth and made a hole near each corner
and several more along each side. She took a length of rope and
unbraided it so she would have the six smaller lines she needed.
She then lashed the ground cloth to the saplings to form a litter
for Osbourne.

"Sorry I took so long," Benjin said when he
returned. "I found a decent campsite and a fairly clear path
there." After lifting Osbourne gently onto the litter, trying not
to aggravate any of his injuries, they set off at a steady pace.
Benjin and Catrin pushed bushes and saplings aside in narrow
places, allowing room for the stretcher Chase and Strom were
carrying.

The land finally began to slope upward, and
Benjin led them to the top of a hill shaded by an enormous tree.
Under the tree waited a pile of firewood, pears, and a brace of
rabbits, which explained why Benjin had been so long in
returning.

Catrin removed her ground cloth from the
makeshift litter while Strom lit a fire and Benjin dressed the
rabbits. They made soup for Osbourne because he was quite ill and
might not tolerate solid food. The campsite was a good choice: the
area shaded by the tree was soft and covered with spongy moss,
making it far more comfortable than rough ground.

Strom, the only one unscathed by the attack
of hornets, looked around the fire and shook his head. Benjin had a
very fat lip, Catrin's eye was swollen nearly shut, Chase had large
lumps on the back of his neck, and Osbourne was puffed up as if he
were filled with water.

"You're a sorry-looking group, I have to tell
ya," he said, grinning, but within moments he began to shift where
he sat. He grumbled as he stood and vigorously scratched the seat
of his pants, apparently wishing he'd been more careful selecting
leaves after relieving himself. Benjin shook his head and retrieved
his ever-diminishing supply of herbs. He made a suitable mixture,
poured it into Strom's hand, and gave him a water flask.

"You'll have to apply that yourself,
m'friend," he said, casting him a sidelong glance. "You're on your
own."

* * *

Master Jarvis hurried along the inner
corridors, his mouth and nose still covered with a scented kerchief
to mask the smell. No one was immune to the effects of the siege,
though he no longer even considered this a siege; it was more like
containment. The Zjhon were not trying to get in anymore, they just
didn't want anyone to get out. Master Jarvis could not decide which
was worse.

The thought of Catrin in the hands of the
Zjhon nearly made him sick; he'd taught her since she was a little
girl, and she'd always been one of his favored students. The only
thing that sickened him more was the thought of what Master Edling
was trying to achieve. Some would say that Jarvis was seeing things
that were not there, but he knew better; he'd known Edling for too
long. Master Grodin had been swayed into moving the refugees into
the audience halls based on the premise that the people would feel
more secure surrounded by their peers than if kept apart. It was a
ruse, and Jarvis knew it. Though some people had expressed feelings
of loneliness and a sense of being disconnected, he doubted any of
them would consider being crammed into the audience halls an
improvement. The fact that one of the special release bars used to
trigger the cave-in mechanism was missing only solidified the
reality in Master Jarvis's mind.

When he finally reached Master Grodin's
quarters, he was pleased to see the old man awake and alone. "May I
trouble you?"

"Who's there? Is that you, young Jarvis?"
Master Grodin asked. "There are some candied cherries in the dish
there. Help yourself. I know how you like them. Then run along and
be a good boy."