Ironcrown Moon (47 page)

Finally, the obscene snarl of probing tentacles withdrew from the saloon. She risked looking out through the window. The landscape spun like a demented carrousel, shore and water combined in a dizzying blur. On the tilted foredeck above her, Dala saw King Honigalus leap from the bow pulpit with his sons in his arms. A pack of Salka dived after him. Only three monsters still clung to the hulk of the barge, and as she watched they rolled easily into the water and were gone.

Working quickly, Dala unwound the long shawl from around the baby and used it to bind the small body tightly to her chest, making sure that the child’s head was above her shoulder. She studied the latch of the nearest casement. It was a simple thing, and when she turned it the window easily opened inward, letting water pour in. She waited, crooning “The Blossom Moon Song” to the baby. The water rose swiftly, and she climbed onto the chair seat, then onto the back, clutching at the drapes, keeping their heads in the air until the last possible moment.

Then she took a deep breath, ducked under, and pushed out through the open casement.

Almost immediately, a powerful current took hold of her. She could see nothing, for the waters of the eddy were not only murky with sediment but also streaked and splotched by bizarre areas of moving light. She kicked and pumped her arms to no effect: swimming was impossible. She would have to let the river take her where it would.

But it was taking her down, down, tumbling her head over heels. The light was dimming and her lungs burned and dearest God what must be happening to the poor baby?…

She struck something, felt a sharp pain in her upper leg, another as her elbow smashed into an unyielding surface. Rocks! The whirlpool was floored with rocks. Panic dug its claws into her pounding heart and she folded her arms protectively about Casya’s fragile head.

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Then her own skull was struck a glancing blow. White light flared in her brain. The hoarded air burst from her lungs, and she sucked in

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon water almost with a sense of relief.

I tried, she thought, drifting into quiet darkness, feeling the motionless tiny body still bound tightly to her. I tried.

==========

Softness beneath her aching head. More pain in legs and arms and a lingering rawness in her throat and chest. She was covered to the chin by a blanket.

“She’s awake,” a soft voice said. Two faces appeared, smiling down at her: a handsome little blonde woman with brilliant green eyes, and a very ordinary-looking man who sniffled a little and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Baby,” she managed to whisper. “Baby!” Her voice broke and she began to cough.

“Right here beside you,” the man said, “lying in a nest of dry grass and wrapped in her fine shawl, sleeping soundly.”

“Drink this,” said the green-eyed woman, lifting her head and holding a cup to her lips. She sipped a few drops of warm herb tea, sweetened with honey, then drank deeply and eagerly until the woman said, “Enough for now,” and let her lie down again.

“Little Casabarela is quite well,” the woman said, “sleeping off her ordeal as you were. I fed her a bit of mushy bread and cheese-curd.

But she’ll wake betimes and need milk, so we’ll have to move along and find a farmstead with a cow or goat. Parties from the castle will be searching the riverbank for survivors, too. And even though they won’t be able to see us, we don’t want to leave too many traces of our presence to arouse suspicion.”

They were in a dense grove of small trees. Riverwaters gleamed through the leaves and the pungent smell of marshland mingled with woodsmoke in the air. Two small horses grazed nearby. A campfire burned briskly in a ring of stones. Hung up to dry beside it on an improvised frame of sticks was a black robe and a set of raggedy trews, evidently the outer clothing of the man, who was clad only in a long undershirt. A second drying frame held pieces of female clothing: her own! She realized that she was naked beneath the blanket.

“You saved our lives,” she said to the man, overcome with amazement and gratitude. “You pulled us from the water even though it was alive with ravening monsters!”

He ducked his head modestly. “You drifted quite a way downstream from the rapids before the countercurrents brought you close to the bank and I was able to swim out and grab hold of you.

The monsters are still lurking in the waters near Boarsden Castle. I was never in any danger from them.”

“All the same, I owe you profound thanks—most especially for saving the dear child I had sworn to protect with my own life. May I

know your name, messire?”

“I’m Tesk, an itinerant wizard by profession, and this is my friend Cray, who is also adept in magic.”

“I’m Dalaryse Plover, called Dala. I am—I was—the chief nursemaid to the Royal Family of Didion.” She was suddenly stricken at the thought of them. “But you don’t know, do you?

Something terrible has happened to the king and queen, and the two little princes!”

“We know,” Cray said. “The barge was sunk by the Salka monsters, and all aboard save you and Princess Casabarela have died abominable deaths.”

“All?” Dala wailed.

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“Everyone. And I admit that I never expected to find that you had survived along with the baby.”

“You expected—” Dala felt her senses begin to reel. “You’re a magicker? You knew this terrible thing was going to happen and gave no warning?”

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

“Yes,” Cray admitted freely. “It was not my duty to issue warnings, nor would anyone have taken me seriously if I’d tried. I was sent here from a faraway place by another who is wiser than I, expressly to rescue Casabarela Mallburn.”

“If the others of the royal family have perished,” Dala said slowly, “then the poor orphaned babe is the Queen of Didion.”

“Someday she will be,” Cray said. “But not now. There are dire things happening in your country and in other parts of High Blenholme

Island. If it became known that little Casya were alive, scheming men would try to murder her.

The monsters did not attack the royal barge by chance. They were incited by sorcerers who intend for Prince Somarus to take up Didion’s crown.”

Dala’s eyes widened. “But how—”

“We’ll explain it to you later,” Cray said. “You have a right to know everything, since it seems obvious that you were fated to be saved along with your tiny mistress—although the Source neglected to mention the fact to me. And glad I am that you’re here, Dala! For I know much of magic but very little of child-rearing, and I admit my heart sank to my boots when the Source laid this strange charge upon me.

But, there—it’ll work out splendidly now, with you and dear Tesk to share the burden.”

The man nodded and smiled and went to the fire to feel the cloth of his robe. “Just about dry.

I’ll leave you ladies for a few minutes so

Dala can get dressed. Then we must be off. We’ve a long way to travel.” He took his garments and disappeared into the bushes.

“Where are we going?” Dala asked. “Can anyplace in Didion be safe from men so evil that they would kill an entire royal family, innocent children and all, in order to steal a throne?”

“No one will follow us into the Elderwold wilderness,” Cray said. “That’s where we’ll go.”

The nursemaid’s face crumpled with dismay. “But the terrible Green Men live there! Have Casya and I escaped one set of inhuman monsters, only to fall into the hands of others?”

“We’ll risk it,” Cray said rather tartly. “Sit up now, and I’ll help you get your clothes on.”

eighteen

As soon as the Salka began their attack, Beynor put his own escape plan into action.

He crouched low in the dismasted sailboat and sent his windsight underwater to find the Supreme Warrior. Ugusawnn was still harnessed to the boat; but he was well out from the riverbank, at least five ells away and slightly downstream, resting on the mud bottom. His great body was poised in a tense attitude that seemed to indicate he was in mental contact with his company of warriors, directing them in their initial sprint towards the unsuspecting people on the royal barge.

Beynor’s great Sword of State, which he had brought with him from the Dawntide Citadel, had a double edge keener than the sharpest razor. He removed it now from the oilskin bag where he’d kept it out of sight, buckled on the ornate scabbard, and drew the blade. Then he cut the boat’s stern-line, which had been tied to one of the trees.

He held his breath, his heart thudding in his breast. The Eminent monster was so absorbed in the events taking place out on the water that he had paid no attention to what Beynor was doing.

Moving cautiously, with the sword still in hand, he went to the bow and checked to make sure
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that the little craft had not drifted into an unfavorable position within the overhanging brush and small trees that screened it. All was well. The boat’s anchor was not out. Instead, a bowline tied to a branch kept its stem pointed upstream.

Beynor waited until the Salka warriors attacked the barge’s oarsmen, and death screams began to punctuate the wind. Then he leaned over the side and sliced through the mooring line and the leather harness traces attached to the gunwales, setting the sailboat free.

Sheathing the blade, he scrambled to the stern, heedless of the noise he made, seized the tiller, and exerted all of his magical strength to

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon propel the small boat out of its hiding place and into the open river. It was a simple trick, known to almost every talented child in Moss but rarely employed by mature sorcerers, and he counted on it now to save his life.

He gave a mighty shout on the wind: “Ugusawnn, take care! Press the attack! Fighting men are coming at us from the castle in boats and I

must intercept them. Stay here and don’t try to follow me. I’ll beat them back!”

What

?! The distracted Salka still didn’t realize that the traces had been cut.

What are you saying

?

With the centerboard up and the small craft drawing less than a foot of water, Beynor raced away upstream through the shallows along the northern shore, praying that Ugusawnn would fall for the ruse and remain with his warriors.

A bellow of rage split the air behind him.

Stop! Where are you going

?

“Do your job!” Beynor retorted on the wind, “Make certain that no human escapes the ambush alive—else you and your people will never regain this island home that was stolen from you!”

The humans on the barge will be slaughtered and eaten and so will you, when I catch you!

Scheming traitor! No one is coming at us

—

from the castle. You’re trying to escape

.

Beynor made the boat go faster, zigzagging and swerving among the rocks with no thought of the danger. He dared not pause to scry out possible pursuit, but no monstrous tentacled limb had yet laid hold of his boat, and he was already opposite Boarsden Castle, where the banners and decorations still hung out to welcome a king who would never arrive.

Stop! Come back!

“Sink the barge! Kill the people! Do what you came to do and I’ll carry out my own part of the bargain!”

The ground along the right bank was rising now, changing rapidly from fertile pasture and field into upthrust bedrock dotted by thin stands of pine. A few minutes later the boat turned right and charged along the base of the towering palisade that forced the Malle into its Big Bend. Across the broad elbow of water lay Boarsden Town, with its crowded jetties and docks and the ware-houses of the wool-merchants and northern timberlords. Clogging the shallowing river nearly to midstream were anchored rafts of logs sent down from the forests of interior Didion, waiting for the rains of autumn to raise the water and give them swift passage to the mills and shipyards of Holt Mallburn.

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Beynor steered for the opposite shore and the town, crossing the open channel and darting in among the rafts, agile as a minnow fleeing from a pike. The log platforms were anchored with multiple iron chains. Swimming underwater among them at speed would be a perilous business, even for a Salka. If Ugusawnn was still in pursuit, he would have to move more slowly, perhaps even put his head into the air to see which way the boat was going. But no tentacles took hold of the brash young sorcerer, nor did the Supreme Warrior bespeak him with fresh threats. Had the crafty monster swum on ahead? Was he waiting for his prey to arrive at the dock before putting a heartbreaking end to the escape attempt?

The windworld had become a howling chaos of dying minds that Beynor paid no more heed to, feeling no compassion or other emotion at the loss of so many lives, but only a sense of stark and necessary fulfillment. The first difficult step in his rebirth to glory had been taken.

If he could only evade Ugusawnn’s wrath for a few more minutes, the next step would follow quickly—and be so much easier.

His boat skimmed the water like a leaf blown before a gale, drawing the attention of river boatmen, who called out to him with indignant shouts. He ignored them, continuing on his wildly erratic course through larger vessels moored offshore, heading towards the public landing stage. The racing boat’s wake made the small craft tied up at the slips wallow and scrape their fenders. Sailors and dockside hangers-on cursed and yelled at him as he reined in his talent, then forced his boat to halt abruptly in a welter of foam just as it was about to crash into the quayside.

He’d arrived.