Green Rider (17 page)

"It was a gift," Karigan said, a little defensively.

"And a worthy one. As is this." He held in his palm, a tiny white petal. With a clear ringing laugh, he tossed it into the air and it might have vanished, but to Karigan, it seemed to become a star. She couldn't hold on any longer, and as she slipped again into slumber, Somial said, "Your wounds were grave, the poison is still within you, but you shall be well soon. Do not fear the night or the creatures within. We shall watch over you, Karigan of Sacoridia, till you have regained the strength to continue your endeavor."

"Can you take my message to Sacor City?" she asked in a groggy whisper.

"Your path lies long and dark," came the quiet reply. He brushed damp hair from her forehead. "But you've the will and strength, and the
muna'riel
. Laurelyn's light can shatter the strength of the dark powers. Yours is not our mission, youngling. We seldom venture where humankind dwells."

"Youngling…" she protested.

"Though I am young among my folk at nigh on two hundred years, you are younger still." He kissed her forehead, a gesture that reminded her of her mother, and as she slipped into oblivion, she thought she heard him say, "May Laurelyn light your way."

Karigan drifted off and did not know how long she slept, and though the sleep was deep and healing, she was always aware of the rhythm of the music. The Eletians watched over her, and thus reassured, her sleep was peaceful.

When she did awaken, the clearing was awash in the glow of late morning sunshine. Experimentally she moved each limb. Her right leg was still sore, and when she inspected her ankle, it was bruised black. There were numerous purple marks on her legs where the hatchlings had stung her, but the swelling was gone and the marks were not very painful.

Her wrists were wrapped in a gauzy material where the creature's blood had burned her. In all, she felt as anyone else coming out of illness: weak but renewed, and grateful to be well.

There was no sign of Somial or any other Eletians in the area. They had tended her wounds well. She lay on her bedroll wrapped in her blanket, her head pillowed on the greatcoat, just as she had slept so many nights during her journey. Maybe Somial and the Eletians had been dreams, but her tended wounds proved otherwise.

Nearby, The Horse's tack and her packs lay on the ground, and beside them, the unsheathed saber which glared in the sun. Someone had cleaned it of black blood. She shivered as she remembered that night, and wondered how many nights had since passed.

A loud rattling of branches on the outskirts of the clearing made her heart leap. She took up the saber expecting another creature to attack her, but relaxed when The Horse emerged from the trees. She staggered to her feet and limped over to meet him halfway across the clearing. When she saw no evidence of his sting wound, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He nickered softly.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see you, you stubborn old horse."

Karigan lingered another day and night in the clearing trying to regain the old strength that still eluded her. There was no trace of the Eletians, though when she slept, she could still feel the rhythm of their silent song.

AMBUSHED

The world beyond the clearing was oppressive. Biters swarmed in clouds about Karigan and The Horse, stealing away any pleasure they might have found in the budding of wildflowers, and the trills of warblers recently arrived from the south. Deciduous trees, few and far between the spiky sun-stealing spruces, strained to open their leaves.

The weather alternated from cold damp to summerlike heat and heavy humidity. Karigan opted to wear the greatcoat often despite the heat as her only defense against the biters. The cuffs were all burned through and tattered from her confrontation with the creature of
Kanmorhan Vane
. Still, it offered a sense of security.

They cantered long on the road as much to outpace the biters as to make up ground. The Horse's gait was tireless, his tail whisking behind as they loped along. Whether it was relief from biters or a sense of spring that drove him, it was hard to say. For all their speed, they were no less cautious in covering their tracks, for she knew Immerez and his men still sought her and the message she carried.

If they were cautious on the road, they were equally cautious off. No longer did they blindly follow deer trails to find a campsite. Karigan chided herself over and over for ever having done so in the first place. Following deer trails at dusk was like walking into a predator's trap. Encountering the creature of
Kanmorhan Vane
at what was supper-time for most predators had been no mistake. Who was to say some bear or catamount, equally as dangerous, wasn't waiting at the end of some other deer trail for an easy meal?

Between Immerez and the creature, Karigan felt like prey in more ways than one.

After a week of swift travel, she began to find signs of human habitation. Though the road had in no way improved, it was grooved with wagon wheels and hoofprints, all recent. Every so often, travelers rode or walked down the road, and she and The Horse concealed themselves in the woods and watched those who passed by.

There were grim men with thick beards and broad shoulders dressed in buckskin, their horses or mules burdened with pelts. Merchants in bright garb sat on wagons laden with goods. Though they were not nearly as prosperous looking as the leading merchant clans of Sacoridia, they were heavily armed and guarded, their cargo masters casting stern expressions over the road.

At the sight of merchants, whether they were of a clan or not, Karigan felt pangs of homesickness. All merchants longed for spring after a winter of little or no travel and no haggling or dealing. Spring brought increased commerce and an opportunity to see old friends. Karigan had accompanied her father on many spring journeys which often included fairs. She would sit proudly with her father atop the foremost wagon of a long wagon train on its way from one town to the next. But she was not with her father. She was alone on a dangerous road and fairs were a distant dream.

Other armed travelers passed down the road, but she couldn't decide if they were brigands, mercenaries, or both. They were male and female, some jolly and lighthearted in conversation, others grim and stern like the merchants' guards, and yet others possessed a downright disreputable air. Their clothing was soiled and their bodies reeked, even off the road where she stood.

What conversation she picked up was more often foul than not. She didn't know whether to feel glad to see others on the road, or alarmed. Carrying the life-or-death message, given to her by a murdered Green Rider, made her suspicious of all who passed by.

The message. The all important message. What did it say? She was dying to take a look at its contents. She had already risked her life to carry it—didn't she have a right to read it even though F'ryan Coblebay had told her not to?

Karigan pulled The Horse to a halt, disregarding the cloud of biters that massed around her head. She unfastened the message satchel and drew out the envelope. "King Zachary" had been written on the front in quick, uneven strokes. She frowned.
This isn't for me
.

She turned it over and took a look at the wax seal. It remained uncracked and unblemished despite its hard journey. A bead of sweat glided down her forehead and pattered onto the envelope. She wiped it away carefully with her sleeve.

I could say it broke along the way…

Maybe she could slip the tip of the saber beneath it, then after she read the message, soften the wax and reseal the envelope. But that would distort the perfect imprint of the flying horse and it would be obvious she had tampered with it.

There's only one way
, she decided.

She held the wax seal between her thumbs ready to crack it, one eye closed and a grimace on her face as if she didn't want to see it happen. Then The Horse shifted beneath her and flicked his ears back and forth. Voices, barely audible, floated to her from behind. She sighed, actually relieved by the diversion, and dropped the intact message back into the satchel.

She guided The Horse into the woods and tied him up well out of range of the road. She crept back to the road and crouched behind a rock. Two people, a man and a woman, walked into view. They moved as smoothly as cats, their ease of movement belying powerful shoulders and sword arms, and legs rippling with muscles.

They were both dressed in the same plain leather jerkins. Gray cloaks, patched and travel-stained, hung from their shoulders. They wore no devices to identify militia or mercenary company.

Bandits or plainshields
, Karigan thought.
Poor bandits if that is what they are
.

Despite the drab and worn look of their gear, the patches had been carefully sewn and the leather was oiled. Long swords bumped against their hips as they walked.

Their poor state probably had little to do with their prowess as fighters. They did not waste movement with superfluous gestures even though they appeared to be in deep discussion… Deep, heated discussion.

"I tell you, Jendara," the man said, "I caught a whiff of a horse."

His partner looked at him askance. Ringlets of russet hair flowed down her back. "You're just hungry," she said. "You are imagining things."

"What about those droppings we saw back there?"

"Look, there've been several travelers up and down this road. Who's to say that last pile of horse manure belonged to the one we're looking for?"

The man's face was grim. It was coated by the beginnings of a spiky yellow beard, and the lines of tension could be seen clearly beneath it. "I'm tired of this walking. We should be with our lord."

The couple drew abreast of Karigan's hiding spot and walked by.

"I don't like it either," the one called Jendara said. "But we must do as we are told."

"Chasing ghosts and horses. It is not what we swore to do."

"The sooner we're done, the sooner we return to our true duty."

Then the two were gone. Karigan stood up and brushed pine needles from her trousers. Their conversation was enough to convince her she had no desire to encounter them on the road, especially with the reference to chasing ghosts and horses. She would stay here this night, and maybe the next, but she liked having them ahead of her less than behind.