The Book of Deacon (25 page)

Caya returned, slamming the door.

"Wolloff, you are low on oats, barely enough
for Wind Runner. Myranda, to the map. You need to plot out a course
of action. This will be no normal chase. You need alternatives for
every step of the way," she decreed.

Myranda joined her by the table. They
proceeded to trace out the course. It would be more or less a
straight ride from forest to forest. There was a scattering of
towns that would have to be avoided. Caya spoke in an endless
string of orders and dictation. She was clearly a strong leader and
knew just how to get things done. It was difficult to believe that
minutes ago she was near death. Her devotion was admirable.

"What of the beast?" Caya said.

"Pardon?" Myranda replied.

"The dragon. We've yet to enter her into the
equations. The success of your escape depends upon a minimally
encumbered mount. The creature could add enough weight to give the
Elites a chance to close the gap when my horse begins to tire,"
Caya said.

"I have seen the beast run. She will keep up
on her own," Wolloff said.

"Fine. But I want to make this absolutely
clear. If she falls behind you
will
leave her. Sentiment is death on the
battlefield," she said.

Myranda assured her that she would, but in
her heart she knew she couldn't. She prayed that she would not have
to make that decision.

#

Within the hour the freshly anointed healer
was astride the horse and headed toward the Elite, Caya's voice
still in her ears. She was to turn east with all of the speed that
the steed could muster at the very instant she noticed even a hint
of the plume atop the helmet of an Elite. Until then there was
nothing to fill her time but a tense wait, and a few simple spells
to restore her horse for the run. When she'd whispered the final
spell, admiring the relative ease that new amulet provided, she
turned to her companion. Myn sat on the ground beside her, still
bearing the helmet in her teeth.

"Are you going to carry that with you for the
entire trip? We will have to move very quickly. I hope you can keep
up," she said, eager to break the silence.

As an answer, Myn's head shot up. She smelled
the air and stood, dancing about anxiously. Myranda saw nothing,
and heard only the tapping of icy rain on the needles of the trees.
She climbed down from the horse and put her ear to the cold ground.
Faintly, almost silently, she could hear--or, more accurately,
feel--the steady beat of dozens of hooves. Myn scampered up a tree
and trained her eyes on the south. Her keen sight must have caught
something between the trees. Something she hated. The dragon leapt
to the ground and streaked southward.

"Myn,
no!"
Myranda called out.

Her faithful friend skidded to a stop, and
looked to her pleadingly, her eyes fairly begging to be allowed to
do what her heart demanded of her, to get revenge on those that had
taken something dear from her. Myranda looked her in the eyes.

"Myn, we cannot. Not now. Follow," she
said.

Reluctantly the dragon returned to her side,
clamping her jaws onto the helmet as a replacement target. Myranda
watched the trees in the distance. Soon the sound of hooves was
booming in her ears. She wanted to run, but she had to be sure that
they followed her, and did not continue on to Wolloff's tower. A
minute more. A second more. A heartbeat more. Now!

One horse and rider came into view. It was a
woman, it seemed, though her height and grace, even in the
split-second that Myranda had seen her, betrayed her to be an elf.
Myranda spurred her horse to the east. Myn ran beside her. She
could match the speed of the horse with little effort, though
carrying the helmet and glancing back at her pursuers regularly
gave the dragon some difficulty.

The wind tore by them with twice the bite it
would have had if they were standing still, and the rain and snow
saturated them in minutes, but those were the least of her worries.
Myranda turned every few moments, remembering more of the words of
Caya.

If you have a chance to escape, you may not know
immediately. Those men are riding war horses, bred for strength.
Wind Runner is a messenger horse, bred for endurance. It will seem
that they are keeping pace with you, and they may well be, but the
sprint will wear down their horses quickly. The gap between you
should start to widen quickly and suddenly. If it doesn't, then you
are done for.

Every few strides, Myranda judged the
distance. Her heart pounded harder with each glance that didn't
show any headway. Finally, just when her own steed seemed at the
brink of collapse, the followers seemed to stop entirely. Their
horses broke stride and faltered. Even with Wind Runner slowing
considerably, the Elites were out of sight within minutes.

Some relief came to Myranda, but not much.
She knew that now the soldiers had seen her. They had followed her
trail this far on descriptions alone. If she did not take every
advantage she had at her disposal to keep her distance, they would
be upon her. And so she continued to spur on her horse. The animal
was exhausted and had not had a proper rest in days, but it had to
continue, or they would both be caught.

When Wind Runner had run for the better part
of three hours, it became clear that, despite her spells, the
creature needed to rest. There was no sense destroying the beast
now, or she would be stranded, and Myranda was little more than a
novice in the ways of magic. Her own strength would need to be
conserved as well. The Elites must have fallen an hour or more
behind by now; perhaps she could risk some rest. A small stream,
surrounded by the very most persistent of weeds, presented itself
as the logical place for the group to catch their breath. The horse
and dragon gulped at the water. She stood, stretching her legs and
trying to keep the rain and ice from her eyes. Myn managed to
snatch up a rabbit that foolishly wandered near while Wind Runner
ate the weeds most greedily. Myranda had no food of her own, but
the constant fear had left her without an appetite. She could not
take her eyes off of the western horizon.

Myn had just begun to gnaw upon her precious
toy again when Myranda's eyes locked onto something that she could
not identify. The sun had long ago set, making it difficult to make
out anything more than shapes. In the distance, far off, there was
what looked to be a faint, twinkling star . . . but it was on the
ground. For a moment she stood in awe of the bizarre sight. She
knew, though, that regardless of what it was that was growing
nearer to her with each passing instant, with her luck it could not
be anything but bad news. She looked to the horse, still weak from
the run. Her eyes turned back to the odd sight. It was white with a
dash of blue, a single point of light with a barely visible trail
behind it. She was reminded of the crystal that Wolloff used. The
same light would glimmer briefly in it when he would cast a
spell.

"We have to leave now," she said.

She climbed to the back of the steed, with
Myn wearily gathering up the helmet in her teeth. She gave the
beast a kick, but the mare would not budge. It could not go on. The
breaking point had been reached. Myranda turned an anxious eye to
the west again. The light was closer, there was no question, but
what was it? For once, fate conspired in her favor. A single,
powerful bolt of lightning jumped silently from cloud to cloud,
brilliantly illuminating the field for an instant. In the heartbeat
that the truth was visible, the answer was burned into her eyes.
The elf, the leader of the Elites, was riding toward her, a bare
crystal held over her head, summoning an unnatural speed that
pushed her horse forward at easily twice the rate that Myranda's
own could ever hope to muster.

Myranda froze in terror at the sight. There
was nothing she could do. Their leader would be upon her in no
time. A monumental crack of thunder shook her from her stupor and
frightened the horse into motion. Myn quickly bolted. Somehow
despite the long run, the young dragon was still able to match the
speed she'd managed before. Myranda clutched her pendant.

There was no choice now. The time for magic
had come. Enhancements such as the one the Elites must be using
were not included in her education, but spells of healing and
recovery could bring a strength and energy to her mount greater
than many days rest could provide.

She locked her mind into the purest state of
calm that circumstances would permit and began to speak her spells.
One to eliminate the weariness, another to ease the pain. After a
handful more, Wind Runner was running as fast as she ever had, but
Myranda was much the worse for wear. She nearly lacked the will to
remain on the steed's back. Slowly, she turned to see how close the
enemy had become. Not more than a hundred paces separated them now,
and the gap was closing with each stride. Myranda closed her eyes
and prayed. There was nothing more she could do. It was in the
hands of fate now. Or perhaps not.

Myn turned to face the elf. Her teeth still
clenched about the helm, she sprayed forth a stream of flame from
her nostrils. The enemy horse panicked, and at the unnatural speed,
could not maintain control. The pursuing horse and rider tumbled to
the ground. Myn dropped the chewed helm and locked her eyes on the
new prize. With one powerful bite, she clamped onto the elf's
helmet and tore it from her head. The horse, mad with fear,
galloped wildly away. Myranda called and the dragon hurried to
catch up, a fresh trophy in her teeth and a dazed and angry soldier
in her wake. The elf looked after the escaping pair, but was
helpless to follow. Safety, at least for the moment, was
theirs.

The night passed with Myranda slowly
regaining enough strength to recast her spells. In time, even Myn
could not keep up with the mystically-aided horse. She leapt onto
Wind Runner's back, but it did not slow the beast as Caya had
feared. To the contrary, the clutch of the dragon's claws urged the
horse forward faster than any spur could.

By first light, the forest that should have
been more than a day away was in sight. Such was the ability of a
tireless steed. Of course, the toll that was spared the mount was
taken on the rider. Myranda was barely awake, each stride
threatening to knock her from the beast's back. As she fought for
each moment of consciousness, she also wrestled with what she had
seen. That soldier, the elf woman. Sometime, somewhere, she had
seen her before. The image of her face burned in Myranda's mind.
Something from long ago.

The dappled shadows cast from the branches
passing overhead prompted Myranda to wrestle her eyes open again.
They had arrived. Wind shook the clinging remnants of the night's
rain from the trees. The horse, sensing that this was indeed their
destination, had slowed to a trot, then to a walk. Myranda stopped
the steed entirely. She didn't so much dismount the creature as
fall from it.

From the looks of things, they had made it
quite far into the woods before she had become aware of it. The
weary girl pulled herself to her feet. She had to move away from
the trail that they had made thus far, and, alas, abandon the
horse. As long as it seemed that she had remained on the steed, the
pursuers would follow the hoofprints. All that needed to be done
was to move a fair distance without leaving tracks.

This was no simple task, though. The rain had
muddied the ground. Tracks would be easy to find. She led the horse
to a stream, the bed of which was composed of smooth stones. As it
took a well-deserved drink, she stepped ankle-deep into the icy
water. Myn looked with curiosity. It took a bit of coaxing for the
dragon to join in the unpleasant but unfortunately necessary
activity. After more than enough time to thoroughly numb her feet
to the knees once again, she left the stream in an area too covered
with pine needles to permit tracks to be left behind. A thick, full
tree served as shelter as she collapsed on the driest patch of
ground she could find. Myn fell on top of her and almost instantly
dropped into a sleep of utter exhaustion.

#

Slowly, hazily, a dream came. It was like the
stark, bleak field that had haunted her in nights gone by, but
somehow different. She was lost, on her feet and wandering.
Somewhere nearby, a faint, almost imperceptible light loomed.
Stumbling and shuffling, she moved closer to this weak and quickly
fading glow. A deep sense of desperation grew in her heart as the
light slipped away from her. In this colorless field it seemed to
be the last bastion of light against the overpowering dark. She had
to find it, she had to touch it and know light once more before it
was gone forever. It was near. So near.

#

When her eyes opened, the memory of the dream
was gone, but the feelings she had felt lingered. There was
something within reach that she had to find before it slipped away.
She turned her eyes to some indistinct spot in the distance.
Something was calling to her. Myn was still asleep, as hers was a
more physical exhaustion. The girl sat and waited. Once again, a
days-old hunger was burning at her, but she could not bring herself
to wake her friend. The cold, wet day of rest had seized her
muscles and joints with a terrible stiffness. She stood and tried
to stretch it away.

It was night again and the woods were silent.
The ever-present cloud cover and impenetrable canopy made it
difficult to see more than a few paces in front of her, but she
managed to spot something that made her smile. There was a cluster
of arrowroot. It was very rare in this area. She pulled out her
knife, one of the few things she'd had the presence of mind to
bring with her, and dug them up. They wouldn't be enough to fill
her, but at least they would take the edge off of her hunger.