Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) (25 page)

Pandy, Peniff and General Barral rode at the column’s head. They were approaching the place where the Han’nah mountains touched the southern edge of the Nagath Valley. The fortification known as barakMaroc, situated at the range’s southernmost tip, was coming into view. Even at a quarter of a mile’s distance, it appeared to be under construction. Partially completed structures rose above the battlements, their jagged contours standing dark against the orange western sky. The general had explained how it had been brought into service prematurely in order to defend against forces from Borrst.

Phalanxes of ox- and horse-drawn wagons laden with cargo from the East trundled alongside Barral’s columns. Weaponsmiths and armorers had been working overtime to meet Lord Sitheh’s demands and this shipment brought but a fraction of his request. The nearby lands had been plundered by marauders and local craftsmen had been stretched beyond their capacities in the cases where raw materials had not already run out. Aside from arms, they were also bringing foodstuffs and dry goods, such as blankets and clothing, as well as pots, pans and dishes to supply the fortifications’ kitchens.

Every few minutes a cavalry detachment would gallop past, responding, Barral said, to reports of nearby raiding parties.

“They’ve become increasingly aggressive,” he explained, “stealing anything that’s not closely guarded. Early on, we were attempting to move homeowners and farmers into the barakMaroc and barakMall. Then, when the raiding parties began pillaging townships and villages, we began stationing squads of twenty to thirty foot soldiers and half as many mounted as protection. Eventually a successful defense of the citizenry required twice to three times the number Kael or En had sent. The count of those we were dispatching quickly blossomed from dozens into hundreds, diminishing the manpower in the garrisons and increasing our vulnerability.

“We decided to use their own strategy against them, so we’re now dispatching ‘hit-and-run’ units, as Obah calls them. Men in light armor on horseback. They can cut down one of Kael’s raiding parties in one location, then turn around and rally against another with hardly a change in pace. We’ve been able to maintain stables of additional ponies and teams of relief riders at various strategic locations, now that Kael’s army has been routed and this portion of Liad-Nur has been cleared.” Barral chuckled. “He has to wonder why they never seem to tire.

“This strategy has proven so successful, we’re considering a similar system for delivering larger, more lengthy messages than pigeons can carry. Imagine.” He laughed. “Teams of pony riders strung all across the land.”

At one point in the day, they peeled away from the part of the convoy destined for barakMall and a proportional detachment of troops accompanied them.

“Aren’t we going with them?” Peniff asked, sitting up in the saddle and staring after the departing caravan when it became obvious they were no longer heading west.

“I have important business to conduct in barakMaroc,” replied Barral. “We will continue on at first light.”

Activity within barakMaroc’s walls proved even more hectic than the bedlam outside. Soldiers were flagging certain wagons towards low-lying structures against one of the walls, while directing others toward a larger building at the courtyard’s center. As soon as one wagon unloaded, it was directed outside through a second set of gates. Torches mounted at various locations throughout the battlements were supplemented by handheld lamps so that the diminishing light had little effect.

Barral turned his horse toward a low stone building at the courtyard’s rear and Chossen and Vyten followed. When he reined it to a halt, a stable boy took hold of the bridle and Barral dismounted. The general issued instructions to an officer who had emerged from the chaos and two more youths ran up to handle Pandy and Peniff’s endaths. The officer looked toward the pair, dwelling on their faces a moment, then, turning to Barral, snapped to attention and saluted. When Barral turned away and strode toward the opposite side of the compound, the officer approached.

“Captain Xanthis at your service,” he said when he was standing in front of them. “I’ll show you to your accommodations.” He smiled, then glanced around, appearing puzzled. “Have you no luggage?” he asked.

“It’s still with our endaths,” said Pandy. “Is there somewhere we can wash and have something to eat?”

Xanthis directed his reply to Peniff, as if he had been the one who had asked.

“I will insure your things are delivered to your rooms before you’ve finished washing. Would you prefer to eat or wash first?”

“Thank you,” said Pandy, producing a tight smile with no attempt to disguise her irritation at the snub. “We will prefer to bathe before eating.”

The captain turned from Peniff, straightened, then, visibly suppressing an emotion Pandy chose not to identify, replied, “Yes, Ma’am. Please follow me.”

… … … … …

BarakMaroc’s commissary was filled with soldiers whose faces all bore an air of urgency. Instead of the joking and camaraderie one might expect from such a group at the end of a day, every face bore concern, each table was the center of an animated conference. Snatches of conversations carried rumors of the efforts Kael was making to regroup or rebuild, or else speculation on which warlord might be allying themselves with either him or—now that Lord Sitheh had dealt Kael a serious defeat—with their side of the conflict. In the midst of this uproar, in a tiny island of silence, two figures huddled together in a corner of the hall.

Peniff used a thick chunk of parm—a grainy, country-style bread—to mop the last of his stew from his bowl. Pandy waited for him to chew up the mouthful and swallow, studying the lines on his brow and the intense, faraway look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he picked up a napkin and dabbed at his mouth. When he failed to respond, she offered, “If you’re upset about the captain’s attitude… ”

Peniff looked up and, for the first time since they sat down to supper, appeared aware of her.

“I know him from somewhere, but I can’t place him.”

“Captain Xanthis?”

Peniff nodded.

“I feel as if I should recognize him.”

His mouth tightened and he appeared to be working out a problem.

“I just can’t remember from where.”

“You probably met him at barakMall on your last trip to Liad
-
Nur.”

Peniff shook his head.

“I’ve considered that possibility, but I don’t think so. I can’t shake the feeling that somehow the memory’s important.”

Pandy placed a hand on his and said, “You’re tired. Get a good night’s sleep. The answer will probably come to you by morning.”

He managed a smile and said, “I’m sure you’re right,” but looked as if he didn’t mean it.

A knock at his door roused Peniff from sleep. A glance through the window confirmed it still was dark out. He moved to the door and, holding it ajar, made out the silhouettes of two uniformed men in the hallway.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“General Barral wants you dressed and mounted. You’re to leave right away.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s the sixth hour. By the time you are on your… it’s an endath, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Peniff, stifling a yawn.

“ …Mahaz will have risen.”

“Will we have time to eat?” Peniff asked.

“I’m afraid not. The general wants to leave at once.”

“Has something happened?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Peniff nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and fought to clear his head. The soldier was knocking on Pandy’s door as Peniff lit his lamp. He had begun fumbling with the buttons on his trousers when he remembered they had been scheduled to depart after breakfast. Why the change, he wondered? Although this was only an hour or so earlier—not as if they were setting off in the middle of the night—the unexpected change in plans raised his suspicions, so he reached out and touched the soldier’s mind.

His thoughts revealed that armies flying Chadarr’s standards were beginning to amass all across barTimesh. Others bearing the colors of Borrst were now assembled at the north end of the Nagath Valley. And though the officers Barral had sent west to establish alliances had been successful, it was uncertain how soon the reinforcements they had mustered would be able to reach Liad-Nur. Adding to the threat, attack groups were striking the hit-and-run units down before they could arrive at their targeted destinations and there were unverified rumors that a spy, perhaps several, had managed to infiltrate either Lord Sitheh’s or General Barral’s command, leaking information about those units’ strategies. His thoughts also revealed that one day before, a short while after he, Pandy and Barral had left Bad Adur, several raiding parties from Borrst had gotten through Barral’s defenses and diverted a much-needed arms shipment to Garmak En.

He dressed and straightened his room, then stepped into the corridor where Pandy was waiting.

“I feel awful,” she said as she fastened the buttons of his vest. “Things are happening I feel I should have predicted. Maybe I’m not up to this,” she said.

Lamps had now been lit and Peniff could see she was on the verge of crying. Taking her hands into his, he bent so he could look at her directly.

“Don’t demand too much of yourself,” he said. “None of us are up to this.”

She shook her head she said, “If I’m not up to this, what am I doing here?” She started to sob, then caught herself. “I was so certain.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve touched your thoughts. I’ve glimpsed what you’ve seen and I still believe you can make a difference. Don’t beat yourself up if you’re not perfect.”

“I have to be,” she protested. “I have to be perfect. If I’m not… ”

“You’ve already made a difference,” he said, and told her about Colonels Kanagh and Hol.

As he tried to hold her gaze, he could see she was adrift in regrets and recriminations. When she eventually nodded and he could see her attention had returned, he kissed her on the forehead.

“We should go. Barral will be waiting,” he said.

Cold slapped them in the face when they stepped outside. A wind had arisen beneath cloudless skies and dawn’s customary green appeared gray as it filtered through the haze of constant fires. It surprised Peniff to see barakMaroc’s soldiers still in action, moving armaments to the battlements and stacking crates of arrows near each stairwell’s foot. Barral’s troops were streaming out the gates as he and Pandy strode toward the general, mounted and waiting beside their endaths.

“Good morning,” said Peniff, once he was in the saddle. He glanced at the activity and asked, “Is attack already imminent?”

“Not yet,” said Barral, regarding Pandy as she, too, climbed aboard. “But soon. Captain Xanthis will be joining us.”

Peniff looked where the general indicated and noticed the officer arriving on his horse. A chill ran through him. If the captain had fostered so much unease the night before, his presence unsettled Peniff even more this morning. Why was he accompanying them, Peniff wondered? The captain flashed a grin, almost as if he had read Peniff’s mind and he shivered when Xanthis nodded and touched his visor in mock salute.

“Is everyone ready?” asked Barral.

The three acknowledged that they were and Peniff glanced back at the captain, expecting to meet his stare again. This time, however, Xanthis’ eyes were on his superior.

“Good,” Barral said, reining his horse about. Then, in a voice sounding tired and strained, he said, “Let’s go.”

Peniff noted his drawn expression and wondered if he had slept.

They followed the last of the troops through the gate, staying close as Barral spurred his horse toward the column’s head. For the rest of the day they headed westward, for the most part in silence, the captain and the general riding abreast of each other, exchanging comments, while Peniff and Pandy trailed a few yards behind.

It was midday before they paused for their first meal, with Peniff and Pandy sitting separately while the officers conferred. Evening was falling when they stopped to erect their encampment.

“When do you think we will get there?” asked Pandy after supper.

Peniff almost didn’t hear. Something about the terrain kept returning his thoughts to the captain.

“I believe we will set up camp one last time, and arrive sometime the day after,” he replied absently as he raised his eyes from the place they were sitting and gazed toward the Han’nah.

The cry of a distant animal—a predator, he thought, announcing his kill—returned him to a time he had spent traversing that range. It was a few months ago and he recalled a battle in a cave with giant lizards, one in which Bedistai suffered serious injuries.

Bedistai and Darva had taken refuge within, he recalled, while Peniff had slept on the cliff face outside. He smiled as he remembered how he had been largely concerned about sliding down the slope until telepathic contact revealed numerous reptilian minds converging on the pair.

He had stayed apart after Bedistai and Darva had ordered him to keep his distance, he recalled, because he had frightened them. After having freed them from danHsar’s prison, he had thought it unjust that they would abandon him for doing his best—the only thing he could think of—to protect Darva.

Lacking food or water, the three of them had been working their way across those very peaks, avoiding En’s forces, when they had stumbled onto a broken down military supply wagon. What a find, they had thought, a veritable store, if only they could find a way to free up some of its provisions.

Two of En’s soldiers had been attempting to repair a damaged wheel—an impossible task without a workshop and a forge—and Peniff had concocted a strategy. Leaving Bedistai behind, he and Darva had approached, pretending to be victims of Lord Sitheh’s army to explain away the copious amounts of blood they were wearing after battling to escape. The soldiers accepted their tale and one had gone off to package supplies they could take with them, when the second one attempted to take advantage of their weaponless state and forced himself upon Darva.

Unarmed but unafraid, Peniff had interceded. Somehow, during the ensuing struggle, he had taken an unplanned course of action. Locked in the man’s embrace, he had peered into his eyes and probed the depths of his soul until he had located the soldier’s worst fears and unleashed them. It had devastated the soldier and brought him to his knees. Eventually, the shattered man had run off, fleeing into the Nagath Valley where he disappeared among the passing lines of troops.

Unnerved by what she had witnessed and suddenly afraid—for she and Bedistai had only known Peniff since the prison breakout—Darva had insisted he stay away. Devastated by their abrupt alienation, but reluctant to part company—since Peniff’s plan to liberate his family required Bedistai’s assistance—he had followed them, eventually regaining their confidence after helping them battle the lizards.

At the time, he had mused about what he had done to the soldier, believing he had never performed anything similar. It was not until he had encountered Sabed Orr’s chief advisor in the prison at danMis, that he recalled he had acted similarly while he was still at infant. That act had taken place at his naming ceremony. As a result, he had transformed the priest, who eventually became Orr’s advisor, into one who possessed the same sort of telepathic powers that he had.

The next time he had acted so was on the battlefield between barakMall and Hath Kael’s encampment. In yet another attempt to protect Darva, he had entered Harad’s mind and inflicted similar harm. At Darva’s request and out of pity for the wretch, they had left Harad alone on the battlefield where, like the priest, Peniff had unintentionally transformed Kael’s minion into yet another like himself.

Two unintentional transformations wrought from two unpremeditated acts.

Peniff sat bolt upright and stared at the Han’nah.

“Peniff!” cried Pandy. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Peniff shook his head. Things were wrong. Things were very wrong, indeed. After three such acts—not two—he was compelled to ask himself had he not similarly transformed the soldier?

He sorted through that previous assault, trying to recreate the details of that brief encounter. He could recall the scene of the supply wagon’s breakdown and his descent from the hillside afterward. He remembered the face of their would-be benefactor with clarity, despite their brief interaction. But the face of the man who had attempted to force himself onto Darva, the man whose soul he had pierced, remained indistinct. Could it be he? He had been one of En’s, clad in the uniform of the enemy. How could he… ?

The question remained unformed. Peniff didn’t need to complete it. He was certain of the answer. A spy had, indeed, inserted himself into Sitheh’s forces and his name was Captain Xanthis.

He turned towards the campfire where the officers were conferring and noticed the one beside Barral, nodding attentively to what the general was saying. Suddenly, as if Peniff had hailed him, Captain Xanthis lifted his head and returned Peniff’s gaze. He grinned. A voice thundered in Peniff’s head.

“The foreteller is a lovely little thing. Too bad she’s short-lived.”