Call of the Herald (9 page)

"Yes, sir," she said as she climbed up. He
handed her the lines, and Catrin smacked Charger lightly on the
rump with them while making a clucking noise with her tongue.
Charger knew her business and moved out at a moderate pace. In the
mist, Catrin had to use landmarks to guide her around obstacles,
but she knew the path well and had little trouble steering Charger
along a clear path where she was not likely to trip.

When they reached the place where the
Harborton trail met the upland trail, she turned Charger slowly and
deliberately. The upland trail was narrow, and Catrin had never
driven a wagon on it before. Parts of the trail were treacherous,
and there were places she was hesitant to even ride Salty; driving
the wagon was much more challenging.

"Move a little to the right," her father
said. "There's an old tree stump on the bend, and you don't want to
hit it with the wheels."

Charger never faltered and, in truth, knew
the way better than any of them. There were times that she
corrected the path for Catrin before her father or Benjin could
even warn her of an upcoming obstacle. When they reached Viewline
Pass, her father asked her to stop. Catrin pulled back on the lines
until Charger stopped then maintained moderate tension on the lines
to keep her stopped. Charger was not accustomed to stopping here,
and she fidgeted constantly.

When she turned to her father, Catrin's gaze
passed over the view that gave the pass its name. Below her,
looking like an elaborate child's toy from the heights, was her
homeland. The fog continued to blanket the land, making it look
like an ocean of white with emerald islands, sailed by buildings
that floated like ships. The illusion was difficult to break, but
her father demanded her attention.

"When driving through the pass, you must be
extra careful. Rocks often fall here, and we have no way to know if
there is anything beneath this fog that could injure Charger. You
must hold the lines with confidence and authority here. Charger
fears the rocks and formations that will flank her through the
pass, and she often jumps sideways for reasons only she knows. Let
her know that you are in control, and she will follow you instead
of her fear. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can do this, li'l miss," Benjin added.
"You just have to know you can do it."

With a strange mixture of pride and
trepidation, Catrin urged Charger slowly forward. Small rocks
caught under the wagon wheels, but Charger showed her worth and
pulled the wagon over the obstacles. It made for a bumpy ride, but
there was little to be done about it. As Charger reached the place
where rocky peaks flanked her, her ears began to flip forward and
back, and when she turned her head, Catrin could see the whites
around her eyes.

"Make her follow you. Let her know you're in
control."

Her father's words bolstered her confidence,
and she held the lines firmly but without fear. Charger still
sidestepped and pranced, but Catrin maintained control. Soon they
were beyond the pass, and the way became easier again.

"You've done well," Benjin said, and Wendel
nodded his agreement. From the two of them, it was high praise and
Catrin beamed.

When they reached the cold caves, they found
it was among the few places not still mired in fog. The main
entrance was invisible until one reached the rock face where it
hid. Between two mighty slabs of stone stood a chasm just wide
enough for a horse--but nothing larger--to fit through. Benjin tied
Charger to a stake they had driven in the stone many years
before.

"Benjin and I will load the wagon," Wendel
said. "Most of what we're after today is heavy. Go back to our
personal stores and get what you would like to have for your
camping trip."

Catrin wasted no time. Without another
thought, she was bounding through caves, passing through the
network of corridors that were like old friends. There were some of
the deeper tunnels that Catrin had never really liked, but she had
most of the place memorized. When she reached the area her father
reserved for their storage, she sifted through and grabbed what she
thought the others would enjoy as well.

After loading her supplies in the wagon, she
did her best to help her father and Benjin. Despite the hard work
and the sweat that ran into her eyes, it was the most fun she'd had
in quite some time. Only the strange looks from those to whom they
made deliveries threatened to spoil her mood, but most of the
people they saw were friends of her father's and none treated her
with anything but kindness--albeit awkward kindness. For Catrin, it
was good enough. Only at the end of the day, as darkness began to
creep back over the land, did her fears return. The hairs on the
back of her neck stood as she passed by a thicket of trees bathed
in shadows; the feeling of being watched was almost overwhelming.
Catrin was barely able to resist the urge to push Charger for more
speed, but she knew the horse had put in a full day's work, and it
would be unfair to ask more of her. The ill feelings persisted, and
Catrin hoped that Benjin and her father did not sense her fear.

* * *

Miss Mariss heard all the gossip; she knew
where in her inn to be if she wanted to hear the conversation at a
specific table. Much of the inn had been designed around this
purpose, though most would never have guessed it. Simple things,
such as a knothole in the common room floor that continued through
a bored-out log all the way to the cellar, made her task a great
deal easier. Her exceptional hearing gave her the advantage of
being able to attend to the work of running her inn, all the while
collecting valuable information.

Whether Catrin was the Herald of Istra or not
remained to be proven in Miss Mariss's mind, but either way there
would be much work to do. Everyone in Harborton was tense and
afraid, and that alone had far-reaching effects. If it turned out
that incident in the clearing was simply a freak occurrence, she
would be just as happy, though she knew Catrin would never escape
the stigma. Still, that seemed far better than the alternative--far
better indeed.

* * *

Anticipation drove Catrin from her sleep
earlier than usual. She had been looking forward to this day, and
it was finally upon her. She dressed while reviewing her mental
list, making sure she had not overlooked some important detail. Her
tinderbox and extra clothes were already packed, and she added some
dried fruit, smoked beef, and salted fish to her backpack. A trip
to the cold cellar yielded a bottle of springwine and waxed cheese
she had brought back from the cold caves. Her bedroll wrapped in
her leather ground cloth and secured atop her backpack, she
wondered what it was she was forgetting; there had to be
something.

Her morning chores needed to be finished
before she left, and she had asked the boys to give her until
daylight. Still, she was not completely surprised when she heard
laughter that sounded like a couple of halfwits trying to be quiet
and failing. When she opened the door, she found Chase and Osbourne
side by side, grinning like fools, and her father walked up behind
her at the same moment.

"Good morning, boys. You're here early," he
said over her shoulder while she grinned back at the boys.

"G'morning, Mr. Volker," Osbourne
replied.

"Good morning, Uncle Wendel. Sorry we're
early, but we thought we could help get Catrin's chores done
faster, and then we could get an early start," Chase said, but then
he jumped as if someone had pinched him. "Oh, yeah, I almost
forgot," he twitched again and laughed, squirming. "We have a
surprise for you, Cat. Guess who is coming with us?" he asked as he
and Osbourne stepped aside with a dramatic flourish. Strom entered
the cottage smiling and bowing.

"I'd wager you weren't expecting to see me
here," he said. "G'mornin' to you, Mr. Volker."

"Good morning to you, Strom. It's good to see
you again. Now, you grinning scoundrels, get out there. Clean and
fill those water buckets. Catrin, you get the horses fed and take
care of your cats, and then you can go," Wendel said with a smile.
He seemed as excited about their big trip as they were.

The group of exuberant young people gave
Wendel a mock salute and, almost in unison, said, "Yes, sir."

They made quick work of the buckets and
feeding. Benjin wished them a safe trip and told the boys to behave
themselves or he would hunt them down like rabid dogs. He said it
with a smile, but the boys nodded seriously and said again in
unison, "Yes, sir." Benjin laughed, shook his head, and walked into
a stall with his pitchfork.

The excited campers waved good-bye as they
shouldered their packs and started their walk down the river trail.
The false dawn had not yet shown on the horizon, but the moon was
bright enough to light the way. They had little trouble getting to
the river; once there, they turned and climbed past the shoals and
falls. They had covered half the length of the lake by the time the
sun cleared the mountains.

They laughed and talked while they hiked,
having a generally good time of things, and Catrin began to feel
the distance between her and her troubles. A small clearing, shaded
by tall pines, seemed like a good place to rest, and they flopped
onto the bed of needles. Catrin dug in her pack for the dried fruit
and cheese, but it was Strom who got a whoop of delight from the
others when he produced four of Miss Mariss's sausage breads. Each
one was twice the size of his fist and wrapped in waxed paper.

Strom cleared his throat and said, in his
best imitation of Miss Mariss's voice, "Miss Mariss sends these
with her best wishes to some of her favorite patrons. She looks
forward to your next visit. Her words, not mine," he added, just to
make sure Catrin understood the message was intended for her. The
subtle message surprised Catrin, as did the support from Miss
Mariss, who had always been stern with her, but she decided she
would process that information later. Today she was on a grand
adventure, and she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the sausage
bread.

Her bottle of springwine was drained all too
quickly, and she realized she should have brought more.

"No fears. I came prepared for just such an
occasion," Strom said, seeing the concern flicker across Catrin's
face, and he produced a bottle of springwine and a bottle of
huckles juice from his pack.

"I knew we brought you along for some
reason," Chase said, patting him on the back. Strom elbowed him in
the ribs as he shouldered his pack.

"Sorry about that, m'friend. I didn't see you
there," he said, laughing and pushing his way past Chase and
Osbourne.

Catrin watched as the boys jostled and
roughhoused along the trail, meandering in the direction of their
intended campsite, but as the valley narrowed, they walked single
file. The sound of the rushing falls grew as they approached the
end of the lake, and when they reached the clearing, Catrin smiled
in recognition. There was the tree she had climbed so long ago in
hopes of catching a glimpse of the enchanted grove. She needn't
wonder any longer; now the grove was her destination.

* * *

In search of the natural stair Catrin's
father had mentioned, they approached the base of the falls, the
mist rolling over them in clouds. Sunlight danced in the moisture,
casting rainbows across the clearing, and they moved quickly,
hoping to avoid a thorough soaking.

"There it is," Chase said, and Catrin
followed his gaze. Rounded lumps, blanketed with moss and soaked
with accumulated moisture, formed the crude base of the stair. The
rest of the formation created an illusion, appearing flush with the
rock face until the spell broke, and Catrin could see the form
plainly. A narrow shelf angled up the rock face, its slope
irregular.

Heights had never been a problem for Catrin,
but the stair was daunting. There was no room for error; any slip
could send her over the sheer drop with nothing to break her fall.
As they climbed higher, the stair became dry and, in some places,
distinct and well formed. Catrin found them a wonder, as if fate
had carved a path for them, and she was thankful for the gift.

The mental image did not last long, though,
as they soon came on a crumbled section of stair, which was barely
passable. Perhaps fate did not wish to speed her trip after all,
Catrin thought, laughing at herself. They managed to negotiate the
treacherous section of the stair with a bit of help from each
other, but none of them looked forward to climbing back down. The
remainder of the climb proved to be fairly easy, and they reached
the top of the cliff unscathed.

Moving west, they searched for the trail
Catrin's father said they would find. Seeing no obvious breaks in
the tree line, they moved along it, peering through the branches.
Ahead of them, a buck emerged from the forest, his ears flicking
forward and back, as if he sensed them. With a snort, he bounded
back into the woods, disappearing from view but aiding them
nonetheless. As they neared the spot where he had been, a trail
materialized within the outer barrier of leaves.

Catrin led them into the forest, following
the narrow trail. The canopy of leaves blocked much of the
sunlight, and they moved within a shady world that was filled with
life. Deer moved almost silently through the woods, while smaller
animals ran through the leaves with wild abandon. Squirrels at play
sounded like a herd of beasts crashing through the undergrowth.
Colorful birds flitted from branch to branch, their varied warbles
filling the air.

Menacing spiders had built elaborate webs
that spanned open areas between trees. When Catrin walked into one
of the clinging webs, she thought she felt its occupant land in her
hair, and she gave the boys a good laugh while she tried to shed
the imagined spider. Afterward she armed herself with a long stick,
which she waved in front of her like a wand, clearing the webs as
she walked.