Karavans (55 page)

Then his rumbling voice rose above the storm. “One horse. It will have to carry us both.”

Ilona saw the lone horse then, one of Jorda’s own draft horses. Janqeril had put two halters on the animal in case one wouldn’t hold, with accompanying lead ropes. The big bay was clearly frightened by the storm, ears pinned back, nostrils flaring, eyes rolling in their sockets so that the whites showed. The horse had been tied to Jorda’s wagon, and the karavan-master lost time trying to soothe the animal as he untied the lead ropes.

Ilona kept out of his way. She spent the time rebraiding her hair, stuffing it down the collar of her tunic. But the wind merely snatched it loose again, even as it yanked at her skirts.

Jorda used a wagon wheel as a mounting block. Bareback, with only halters and lead ropes fashioned into reins, he had reduced control of the draft horse. Clamping his legs around the horse’s deep barrel, he leaned down and reached out a thick arm. “Jump,” he shouted. “I’ll swing you on behind me.”

It was an awkward, ungainly mounting, but with Jorda’s help Ilona was able to scramble onto the broad bay rump. She put her arms around the karavan-master, locking hands into his belt. “Go!”

RHUAN FELT HIS MOUNT’S distress as they passed from grasslands into stands of trees and out again into the wide, wild land. The girl and boy were small, but the spotted horse nonetheless carried three in the midst of lightning and thunder and shuddering earth beneath his hooves. He galloped on, as Rhuan urged, but his strides flagged and his gait grew rough.

The outer fringe of a forest rose out of the dusty, reddish gloom, highlighted by streaky lightning. At the border between trees and grasslands, Rhuan eased the horse into a ragged trot, a stumbling walk, and at last reined him to a halt. The spotted head drooped. Sweat ran down his shoulders and flanks.

Rhuan twisted in the saddle so the boy might hear him. “I’m going to set you down,” he said. “Take my hand and slide off.” But when the boy’s hands remained locked into his tunic, Rhuan was forced to peel the fingers loose. “We’ll find cover in the forest—get down, boy. Take my hand. Then I’ll put your sister down.”

The boy, disentangled, clung tightly to Rhuan’s hand. Rhuan swung him over the horse’s right hip and leaned down to dangle the boy as close to the ground as he could.
He let go and turned his attention to the younger sister, her spine pressed against his ribs.

“All right,” he said evenly, keeping concern from his voice, “your turn, little one. I’ll set you down with your brother.” He encircled her chest with one arm and shifted her over. He steadied her with his free hand and carefully let her down, shifting his hold to grasp her arms as she slid groundwards. She dropped the final foot to the ground and sat down hard. Her face was dampened by tears, filmed with dust and grit. “Follow me.” Rhuan dismounted. “Hold hands, and follow behind the horse. We need to find you cover.” It would make more sense were they to walk before him where he could see them, but he felt they’d be safer if he put himself and the horse ahead of them as a shield going into an unknown forest.

Lightning streaked over their heads, shearing through trees. Even as the girl screamed in terror, thunder drowned her out.

“Follow me,” Rhuan repeated, and led the horse across the ragged line between rolling grasslands and thick, overgrown forest.

BETHID SHOUTED, “GO! Run! Run east!” She heard Mikal’s bellow, the thin wailing of crying children. It was next to impossible to see her own way in the storm, let alone mark where other people were. But even as she jogged along a footpath, dodging debris, more and more people gave up trying to save their tents, shouting for news, for a promise of safety. They had ignored all warnings and now realized their folly.

“Go east!” Bethid yelled at them indiscriminately. “Run!”

The dust in the air took on an eerie reddish tinge. A moment later crimson lightning streaked across her vision with thunder in its wake. A second, then a third bolt followed the first.

A shiver took her from head to toe. “Close,” she murmured. “Too close—”

Lightning sizzled just overhead. Bethid threw herself flat, hands clamped over her ears. Even then her head ached with the magnitude of accompanying thunder. The world around her was red now, dyed crimson by the lightning. Thin, bright streaks of that lightning came down like arrows, striking everywhere at ground level.

“Bethid—” It was Mikal, reaching to pull her up from the footpath. “We can’t stay any longer! We’ve done what we could—it’s up to the people now to make their own decisions.”

She was willing enough to leave, especially now that she was no longer alone. The ale-keep grabbed her hand with his own and they ran, ran and ran, passing tents in the process of being ripped and shredded, stakes uprooted, poles thrown down. What the Hecari had not burned now was lost to the storm.

East, Rhuan had said. But how far? When could they halt? When would they be safe from Alisanos?

Beside her, Mikal labored. She was markedly smaller than he, and much swifter. It was a simple matter for her to run on and on, but not for him. He was a large man, a sedentary man who was two decades, possibly more, older than she.

They carried no water. No food. Nothing but themselves.

“Keep on,” Bethid shouted. “Keep on, Mikal!” But inside her head she said something entirely different.
Mother of Moons, when is it safe to stop
?

With lightning all around them and thunder in their ears, as the earth beneath them trembled, they ran and ran and ran.

AT FIRST DAVYN blessed the rain. It would knock down the worst of the dust and debris and allow him to see again, to find his wife. Audrun had disappeared just as his children had, any cries for help were
swallowed by the fury of the wind. He shouted for Audrun time and time again; he searched, on hands and knees, the area immediately surrounding him, but he found nothing. His family was simply gone.

Davyn’s sense of direction had always been good. He considered backtracking to find Audrun, but realized that this storm, the pressure in his ears from unceasing thunder, played havoc with his ability. He knew which way the guide had gone with Ellica and Gillan in his wake; it was best now, he felt, to continue on in that direction, and pray Audrun did the same.

When the rain came, he rejoiced.

Until it turned hot.

Hot
rain? He had never heard of such a thing. Rain was simply rain, sometimes very cold, sometimes less so. But this rain, these drops striking him, was decidedly hot.

Davyn heaved himself to his feet. The wind had not died; in fact, it blew the rain sideways. Ducking his head did little to keep his face shielded from rain that blew horizontally. He was soaked in a matter of moments … and the rain only grew hotter.

Scarlet lightning danced upon the earth as Davyn began to run.

THE WIND BUFFETED Audrun unceasingly. It was almost impossible to walk. So she staggered, tangled hair trapped against her chest by tightly folded arms, head down, shoulders hunched, eyes slitted. Her torn skirts flapped and cracked, tugging her first one way and then another so that her strides were ragged. She considered removing the skirt so there was less for the wind to grab, but her smallclothes were of finer fabric and she feared she would give up a measure of protection, slight though it was. So she walked on, doing her best to hold a straight line in the direction the guide had indicated.

She had given up shouting for Davyn, Gillan, and Ellica. The roar of the wind was too fierce, the thunder too con-
stant. She flinched each time lightning shot over her head; flinched again as thunder boomed behind it.

When the ground shook beneath her, Audrun stumbled and fell, instinctively turning in midair to protect the unborn child. Her shoulder and hip took the brunt of the impact. She lay against the earth on her side, gasping for breath, pulling arms and legs close against her body so the child would be sheltered. Even with eyes closed, even with one hand spread over her eyes, she could see the flashes of crimson lightning.

Despite the stillness of her body, her thoughts ran on.
What if I stayed here? What if I waited out the storm here?
Could she? It had to stop at some point. What if she let it pass on while she lay huddled in the wind-flattened, tattered grass?

If it passed. If it stopped.

Was this Alisanos? Unceasing wind, lightning, and thunder? Shuddering earth?

Something struck her. And again. She believed it debris; she had been battered by all manner of twigs, leaves, branches, even small stones mixed in with grit and dirt.

But this was
wet
.

“Rain!” She levered herself up on one elbow, turning her face to the heavens. Indeed, rain.

Audrun laughed in relief. Rain would wash away the dust in the air. She would be able to see again, to find husband and guide and children.

Raindrops fell faster, harder, smacking against her face and scalp. Audrun sat up, hands outstretched to the heavens as she grinned widely, joyfully. She prayed to the gods she favored, thanking them for the blessing of their rain.

But the wind still raged, and the sharp, stinging impact of large drops blown hard against her body kept Audrun from realizing the truth of the rain for several long moments. When those drops began to burn, she was stunned. Hot rain?
Hot
rain?

And hotter yet.

Hot as fire.

This rain was not a blessing bestowed by gods.

Sheer instinct pushed Audrun to her feet. Rain continued to fall, a hard, hot, slanting rain, burning her skin. She gathered up damp, tattered skirts into fisted hands and ran as hard, as fast, as she could.

R
HUAN LED THE HORSE and thus the children into the shelter of the forest. The wide tree canopies offered some protection against the storm, though even the greater trees had limbs tossed by the wind. There was no path save for the one he broke, and it was a difficult passage even for him.

He came across a tumble of boulders, massive boulders the size of karavan wagons. He tied the reins to a tree branch and turned back to the children. He squatted and kept his voice calm. “What are your names? I do you dishonor, I know, to forget them, but I have.” His smile was crooked and felt forced. “I’m Rhuan. And I’m here to help you as best I may.”