Firemoon (25 page)

Jormundur was silent. He seemed to want to object, but lack the energy. Then she saw a certain surrender.

“And do you think you can pull it off?” he asked.

If I don’t we will lose
, Katja thought to herself. But she didn’t want to say it out loud. She might very well die on this mission.

“Yes.”

The captain took a deep breath, and seemed to be mustering his strength.

“Then so be it,” he said. “If there is a way to end this horror it must be attempted. And do you really think you will be better off going alone?”

“Do you have anyone who is specially trained for sneaking?”

“No.”

“Then I must conclude that two people would be twice as likely to be spotted.”

Jormundur chuckled, wearily and bitterly.

“Fine. What did you have in mind?”

“I was hoping that you would let a rope be lowered off the wall, on the north or south side, and that someone would be stationed to throw it back down to me when I return.”

“I think that would be too risky,” the man said and had another sip. “In this Peter fellow’s place I would have men in hiding near the city, keeping an eye on things.”

The captain thought things over.

“I can... have you moved north in a small boat. You can disembark by the knolls, where you won’t be seen.”

“And could a boat be hidden there until I get back?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Jormundur said, and stood up. “I will just have to pick a man with strong nerves.”

Katja nodded.

“Very well. We will play things that way.”

He held out his hand, and a pained flinch passed over his face. Katja shook it.

“Good luck,” he said with a serious face. “And do return.”

--------------------

The boatman was a grim-faced, weather-beaten fellow named Oddur. He seemed to be about fifty years old, and managed the oars with great skill. The little boat wasn’t designed for the open sea, but Oddur nevertheless managed to row some distance from the coast so they would be less likely to be spotted.

He was a quiet man and focused on his task, so Katja could do likewise in peace.

She had her knives and sword, along with a bow and a few arrows in a quiver. She didn’t know what to expect in the camp, but perhaps she would get a shot at Peter without exposing herself too much. She had borrowed a greyish-brown cloak that wasn’t splattered with blood, and that would hopefully aid in hiding.

Her muscles and joints were rather battered and weary after all the recent fighting, but she knew that wouldn’t impede her much once the battle fever hit. All of Serdra’s tough, merciless training had taught Katja much about herself.

Nostalgia hit her for a moment, before she re-focused herself on the present.

This was madness. Plain and simple. She was willingly striding into the lion’s maw. But the situation itself was pure madness, and she saw no sane way of solving it.

Am I prepared to die if need be?

She had asked herself that same question in the spring, but had not had to answer it. But what now? If she got a perfect opportunity to strike at Peter, provided that she leapt out of cover and chopped his head off around twenty bodyguards?

It would be noble. It would be a great affirmation
of my role.

As they got further away from the city wall and the security it offered, a tingle of fear took ever further hold in her heart. She didn’t know whether it was due to the danger ahead or fear of the question.

They had done their best to not draw attention to this excursion, but it was still broad daylight and no way to conceal the lowering of the chain that barred the harbour. Whether people would connect that to the stories of a girl who slew monsters with a glowing blade, she didn’t know.

I just hope no-one thinks I’m fleeing.

What if she died without killing Peter first? Then Pine City would be left with no good defence from sorcery.

“There,” Oddur said, and quickly glanced back to indicate what he meant.

The knolls Jormundur had mentioned awaited them, and it was time to cease unhelpful thoughts.

Katja closed her eyes and tried to find calm, to shut out fear and doubt. She tried to become a cold and honed weapon. This was the situation and this was how she had decided to tackle it. She had a job to do, and worry and wondering would only impede her.

She heard waves hit the shore and Oddur stand up. It was time.

She opened her eyes.

Oddur used an oar to push the boat up into the sand before leaping overboard. Katja followed him and they dragged the boat between two large knolls that provided good cover.

“Well,” the man said, and sat down up against a knoll. “You will be heading for the camp.”

“Yes,” Katja said and went over the straps that held her weapons. “And can I rely on you to be here when I return?”

“When am I to assume that you won’t?” Oddur replied curtly, scratching his chin.

“Hm...”

Katja looked in the direction of the camp and tried to estimate her travel time.

“There shouldn’t be any reason for me to take longer than until sunset,” she admitted. “I suppose by then you can head back in good conscience.”

“Very well,” Oddur said quickly by way of farewell, and lay back.

He wasn’t charming but Katja thought she detected a certain integrity in him. He would probably wait for her.

“Enjoy your rest,” she said and then walked a short distance for a bit of privacy among the knolls. She again made sure all her equipment was as it should be, and that nothing would snag on anything else or make a noise. She strung the bow and hung it onto her shoulder.

There was nothing to wait for, and she didn’t allow herself to hesitate and gather fear. She strode onward.

The knolls provided complex and rather effective cover close to the beach. A short distance north of them was a difficult area covered in thorny bushes. But if she made it through, she would arrive at a stream that had through the centuries dug itself deep into the ground, and along it she would almost make it all the way to the village. Jormundur had told her this, and she had no better plan.

In spite of keeping out of sight of the city or other landmarks, she wasn’t worried about getting lost. Peter’s aura would guide her. It strengthened as Katja wove past knolls and rocks and tall bushes, hunched and alert to every single sound. There were hiding place all over, behind every knoll and in every depression. Katja took the bow off her shoulder and walked with it in her left hand, so she could just drop it in case of an attack.

She was entirely on her own, just as she had been on her way to Pine City. There were no Shades, Redcloaks or soldiers to come to her aid. And unlike the journey here, now mortal danger was a certainty. She was equal parts proud and afraid. And that’s how her life would be if she survived all this.

Just me.

A ptarmigan flew out of the heather at great speed and Katja slashed at it before reason could tell her there was no danger.

At least my reflexes are definitely fine
, Katja thought as she sheathed the knife and tried to calm her heart and lungs.

She allowed herself to sigh as the knolls she passed gradually became little more than bumps that wouldn’t conceal her for much longer. She crawled to a bush on top of one of them and peeked through it. She saw the enormous field of thorns that awaited her, as well as the rather exposed area she would have to cross first.

She looked around for the spots most likely to contain hidden spies and did her best to plan an approach with those in mind. Then she got down off the knoll and began to crawl.

Katja put the hood up so that her light skin would hopefully be less visible amidst the dark foliage, and crawled slowly even though she wanted to run. People noticed movement. Still, the little rodent within her that just wanted to get into cover would not be silenced, and gnawed on her nerves with every meter that slid by.

The hood limited her field of vision, and she somewhat lost her sense of distance. Keeping the bow in her left hand made her progress slower and clumsier than it would have been, and she began to fear she had taken a turn without meaning to when she finally saw the rocky area that served as a threshold for the thorny horror. Katja resisted the impulse to speed across the final meters, and managed to get into relative cover with relative calm.

Below the rocks was a hollow that could have housed a small group dance, and then there was nothing but dirt and thorns.

The thicket was terrible. Katja had never seen anything like it. Bushes and small trees formed a thick wall of needles that was in many places taller than a person. She thanked her lucky stars that the Brotherhood’s sorcery didn’t give them power over plants, as she searched for an easy way into the awfulness. Finding none, she eventually pulled her hood as far forward as it would go, wrapped the cloak around her and squeezed in between two bushes one could at least see in between.

It wasn’t comfortable, but the cloak and leather clothing did a decent job of protecting her. After a few meters she found a relatively clear space where the trees let a bit of light in.

She stopped a moment and looked around carefully. Things seemed to get no easier ahead. The lower part of a long-dead tree stood in the shade of still-living relatives. The shape was somewhat reminiscent of a person, and Katja thought of an old tale of a shepherd who ventured into the spirit world in search of his lover’s soul. The man had to pass through a thorny hedge on its borders, which was also guarded by a mysterious woman.

“I never expected to meet you,” Katja said quietly, and patted the dead trunk as she passed it. It would make a fine marker on her way back.

There was rarely a proper route through the thorns. She usually had to settle for forcing herself in between two plants, which if nothing else was better than passing through a bush. She did her best to keep her eyes open for more markers, and after snapping a branch while pushing it out of the way she began sticking broken branches into the ground like stakes.

She couldn’t avoid getting cut, and was actually getting used to it when she heard the bubbling of a stream.

She was almost at the edge of this damnably pointy forest, and after crawling under several branches she arrived at the ditch. It was deeper than a man’s height, and by walking in a stoop she would be quite well hidden. Sliding down into it and away from the thorns was a great relief.

The final chapter
, Katja thought.

The possibility of enemies being nearby would soon become
fact
.

She was careful to step on either side of the stream so as not to cause splashing noises, and now walked with an arrow nocked. She might have to loose at a guard at a moment’s notice.

The ditch led in an indirect route towards the village, as Jormundur had said, and she began to hear horses and cattle. The corrupted aura had become intense, and Katja believed she felt a difference with each forward step.

Whatever Peter Savaren had done in the name of power, it was a terrible crime against the natural world. Demons were horrors and had no business in this reality, but they were by their nature alien. This was an integration, a mixture of man and the vileness of the underworld. An abomination.

Killing him will be a good deed
, Katja thought, and began to feel better about the earlier question.

The camp was surprisingly quiet. She took it as confirmation of her assumption that they rested during the day, but she still would have expected more life in a camp housing an entire army. Had the battles cost the northerners more dearly than they had realized? One could hope.

She slowed her pace as the animal noises grew louder, but eventually she had to stop. She was as close to the village as the ditch could bring her, and she would have to abandon the cover it provided.

No fear, Katja,
she said to herself, and looked up at the edge.
Fear is for yourself and this is about others.

Katja climbed the ditch and peeked up.

A mass of tents had been erected around the village. To the north of it she could glimpse the wagons and tents of the camp followers any army needed. Nowhere was there much movement to be seen, and little more to hear.

Still, the occasional cough and indistinct word did convince her that this wasn’t some kind of trap. She saw a few guards by the southern edge of the tent city, but they seemed lethargic, and no-one was looking her way. Best to seize the moment.

She crawled over the edge and began crawling towards the tents on all fours. She was halfway there when she heard footsteps approaching, and lay down in a slight depression. She stared with wide eyes as the sound grew nearer, but saw nothing. The individual exited the village, passed the tents and kept on going, in her general direction.

He’ll see me. This is no proper hiding place. He’ll see me.

She felt the air vibrate with Peter’s power and foulness. That might would be directed at her if she were discovered. She quickly made a decision and re-nocked the arrow. Then she rose up on one knee and time slowed down.